Patients and relatives bustled around, frazzled by an endless list of holiday obligations.

Buddy at age nine thought he was far too young for obligations, after all, everyone always said Christmas was for kids.

However, he kept this opinion wisely to himself, and, managing not to sulk, tagged after his parents who had come to Pink Sands to visit granddaddy -- a recent and none-too-enthusiastic arrival.

Buddy carried a tired looking poinsettia, thinking that he did not want to be here at all, not with all these old folks.

Coffin dodgers, his older sister Wendy called them. No way. He wanted to be home playing Nintendo.

Granddaddy was in his room watching a Dolly Parton Christmas special on television.

The rooms still looked like a hospital room with its metal bed and shining linoleum floor, no matter how much Buddy's mom tried to make it look homey by bringing over rugs and plants, and pictures for the wall.

There was nothing she could do about the smell, though, that special odour of disinfectant common to every hospital in the world.

Granddaddy didn't seem to mind, engrossed as he was in a full body shot of Dolly Parton singing white Christmas in an elf outfit.

Granddaddy adjusted his spectacles and pushed thick grey hair back from his face. At 85 he was still a large barrel-chested man.

His face the colour of ripe chestnuts, deeply lined from years of enduring the combined effects of sun and salt water.

"Now there's a woman,'' he said, pointing at the television screen.

"Reminds me a little bit of aunt Edie.

"That would be your great aunt, son,'' he added for Buddy's benefit.

"Aunt Edie, now she was something else. She was all woman, that one, and a hard worker. The way she kept on going when uncle George couldn't make two pennies out of fishing.'' Granddaddy sighed at the memory. The wall clock ticked loudly in the silence.

Even Dolly was finished singing.

Buddy looked at the clock, and then quickly away, so as not to seem rude. He wondered how soon would it be polite to leave.

"Uncle George never was much of a fisherman,'' granddaddy continued. "Though he did try his best. Whatever he did, bad luck latched on to him like a shark sucker to a fish, and nothing he did could shake it away.

"His nets ripped, his lines broke, and his pots got lost.

"Once all the fish vanished because something strange happened with the currents, and icy cold water from the North made its way to Bermuda.

"That was a bad year for a lot of people.

"In the summer the boat leaked and needed work. When the work was finally done, and the boat ready to go, the storms started.

"Come December, there wasn't much to eat, and as hard as Aunt Edie tried to make do, it looked like the leanest Christmas in years.'' Granddaddy's eyes seemed slightly out of focus, as if he was still living his past life of hard labour.

An anaemic looking old woman shuffled down the hallway, each cautious step supported by a walking stick.

Her blue housecoat was thin from many launderings, and attached to the lapel was a bright plastic Santa Claus.

Buddy puckered his mouth in disgust. He just knew that grandaddy was going to launch into one of those stories about how rough things were in the olden days, and how lucky people were now to live a life of luxury, if only they weren't too ungrateful to appreciate it.

Buddy squirmed in his seat, drawing imaginary pictures on the dustless, sterilised floor.

"Uncle George did have one special talent, though,'' granddaddy went on, "and I haven't seen anything quite like it before or since. Uncle George was completely incapable of getting lost.

"Anywhere he was on the water, it was like he was in his own yard. He was the only person I know who could sail right through the reefs at night, and there weren't too many markers or lights around in those days.

"Even in the open sea he always knew where he was. He could go down below to sleep and wake up the exact moment we got out to the Banks.

"Us boys tried to play tricks on him a few times by going much slower, figuring he probably timed the trip.

"He wasn't fooled, no way. When he got up and walked out of that cabin, sure enough, there we were, exactly in the right spot.

"So that's why, when those boys got lost out at sea on Christmas Eve, it was uncle George who went after them.'' "So what happened?'' asked Buddy, now mildly interested. A tale about rescue in the high seas certainly had the potential to be more entertaining than the Dolly Parton special he had been watching from the corner of his eye.

Granddaddy looked pleased, if a bit surprised, by the unexpected question.

He didn't miss a beat getting on with the story, though. "Now let me tell you one thing. Nowhere can you feel the kind of cold you can out at sea. Your whole body gets wet and you shake so badly that if you don't watch it your teeth will fall off.

"Soon you are too numb to even be cold anymore. Your fingers and toes don't work, and your whole nervous system slows down so that a lot of the signals just give up long before they reach your brain.

"All you can taste is salt water, and that taste will make you want to throw up. The worst thing is the wind though, and that night the wind sounded like an off key chorus of demons howling in agony.

"It is the kind of wind that will drive people clear out of their minds. I was maybe sixteen at the time, but I will never forget the way it was that night.

"Us in Uncle George's old fishing boat looking for those missing boys, and that boat plowing its way through the waves, pitching and falling.

"You can't do anything when it is rough like that, can't walk or move around.

All you can do is hold on, and maybe pray, if you are so inclined.

"That's what happened to those boys. They were caught completely unprepared when that storm hit, and their boat started flooding.

"They couldn't move, let alone make it back to shore. When they didn't show up everyone started getting real worried. By that time it was raining, a rain so heavy that it looked like someone had drawn curtains on the world.

"You couldn't see a thing. Uncle George was the only one who went out looking for them, and I went with uncle George.

"I can still to this day remember the way it was, the water nothing but white froth, and the rain hurting my face so badly I wanted to cry.

"I've never been so scared as I was then. I started praying, although I hardly knew how, and promised God all kinds of foolish things if he would only let me live.

"Uncle George just looked kind of grim and determined. I closed my eyes, and when I finally opened them, there were those boys, in the middle of all that angry boiling water, holding on to their sinking boat, just next thing to being drowned.

"How uncle George found them, I'll never know. But I tell you, he was some kind of a hero after people heard about what happened.

"But the thing I remember best is coming back to the island. The rain had slowed down, and out in the darkness I saw the lights from the houses at St.

David's.

"I imagined all those families inside, getting ready for their Christmas dinners, laughing and happy. And it made me feel all warm inside, thinking about that.'' Granddaddy let out another deep sigh.

"There never was a Christmas like that one again. And probably a good thing, too.'' Buddy's mom started getting up, reaching for a purse the size of a suitcase.

It was a signal that it was time to make a move. But Buddy wasn't ready to go quite yet.

"So what happened to Uncle George after he became a hero?'' Buddy demanded.

"Did his luck change?'' Granddaddy started smiling, and then cackled out loud. "well, you could say so. I've been told the good Lord does provide, and although Uncle George wasn't one to get long winded about virtue and eternal salvation, the Lord must have been listening anyway.

"Because when the prohibition in the States started, Uncle George became one of the best rum running skippers on the island.

"With his sense of direction there was no way a ship would ever get lost out at sea.

"He gave up fishing forever, and accumulated money without even half trying.

After that the family never saw another lean Christmas.'' SHORT STORY COMPETITION CPN