The Saint Nicolas story that all the children enjoyed can be found here.

 

 

From: "Misschien wel echt gebeurd. 43 sprookjes en verhalen van Annie M.G.Schmidt" published by
Querido.
‘Here we are again,' said Saint Nicolas.
‘You can say that again,' said Pete.
'On the steamboat to visit the children. Like every year. How many times have we done this now,
Saint Nicolas?'
‘This is the 574th time,' said the Saint.
'Ugh,' said Pete.
' "Ugh" what?' said Saint Nicolas in a shocked voice. 'Why "ugh"?'
'I am so over this,' said Pete.
‘But you love children, don’t you? And the children love us?'
'No, they don’t,' said Pete. ‘They only love our presents; it’s only ever about the presents. Nothing
else. And to top it all off, they’ve predicted a thunderstorm. Ugh.'
'Listen Pete, you really shouldn’t say that,' said Saint Nicolas angrily.
'If you say "ugh" one more time, I’m firing you. The children do love us. They’re crazy about us...'


Woosh... before Saint Nicolas could say any more a gust of wind nearly took his mitre... the storm
was rising... the air went pitch black... the waves grew taller and taller...
‘There you have it...' cried Pete. 'We’re sinking!'
‘Nonsense,' yelled Saint Nicolas, ‘the past 573 times everything went well with this ship, so why
would we be s...'
All of a sudden Saint Nicolas got a big gulp of salty water in his mouth and before he knew it he was
hanging onto his mitre and staff with his one hand and the rail with his other. The storm was
growing stronger... and fiercer and wilder and more horrible! Mountainous, towering waves... the
steamboat seemed like a plastic toy boat on Albert Park Lake.
'I’m so scared...' cried Pete.
‘Nonsense!' shouted Sain Nicolas again. And then suddenly, there was an enormous bang. The ship
had hit a cliff.
'Help... help...' Pete cried.
'Help, the boat is sinking!'
'What did you say just then, Pete?' Saint Nicolas asked as he was trying to swim with his mitre on his
head and his staff in his hand.
'I said: the boat is sinking...' groaned Pete, who was swimming next to him.
'O,' said the Saint. 'Well, you were right. The boat did sink.'
'O, I’m so wet,' said Pete. 'O, I’m so wet and cold and sad. O, I feel so sorry for myself!'
'Why don’t you think of those poor children in Melbourne,' said Saint Nicolas.
'If Saint Nicolas drowns they will never get sweets and toys any more on 6 December. There I go,
Pete. I’m too old to be lying in Port Philip Bay. Goodbye, Pete.'
'No,' Pete shouted in desperation, ‘don’t sink, Saint Nicolas. Look there! There’s a big piece of wood!
Maybe we can climb on top of it.'


Aaah, for now they were safe. The good Saint had lost his staff. He was still wearing his beautiful
mitre, but it was leaking with water and it looked more like a pudding than a mitre.
'All my presents are wrecked...' sighed Saint Nicolas.
'And the marzipan and the chocolate letters and the speculoos biscuits, all gone, all wrecked. What
will become of us? How long will we be floating here?'
'I see land!' Pete cried. ‘Look there, land! And there’s already a little boat under way to come and
rescue us. This must be the coast of Australia. An Australian boat!'
Saved... Finally saved! Dripping and shivering Saint Nicolas and Pete were standing in a sweet
fisherman’s living room in an Australian coastal town.
'We are Saint Nicolas and Pete,' said Saint Nicolas in his best English. But the fisherman’s wife didn’t
understand the Saint’s accent too well. All she said was: 'Poor blokes...' (She said it with an
Australian accent of course).


'Why don’t you take those wet clothes off and drink some of this warm
milk. I will give you one of my husband’s suits. His Sunday best. And for
the boy I’ll get some of my son’s clothes.'
'We can’t thank you enough,' said Saint Nicolas.
'How can we repay you? All of our money is on the bottom of the sea.'
'She’s alright,' said the good woman. 'You can stay here for the night, if
you want.'
'That is very kind of you, but we have no time.' said the Saint. 'We are in
a terrible hurry. How will we ever get to Melbourne in time? Oh dear
goodness, we will never be on time. All those children are there waiting
for us and we shall be late. Besides, we don’t even have money to travel.’
‘My husband will take you to Melbourne,' said the dear lady.
Saint Nicolas and Pete were sitting in the back of the fisherman’s Ute and held on tight, because the
dear man was driving like a maniac. He drove through all the red lights and didn’t stop once. He
screeched through the bends and raced along the roads and roared through the towns. But
according to the Saint he still wasn’t driving fast enough.
‘As long as we get there on time... as long as we’re there on 6 December...' he sighed.
‘Faster please, faster.'
And after driving all day and all night they made it to Melbourne.
‘To Melbourne?' the fisherman asked.
‘Yes, to Melbourne,' Saint Nicolas said.
'I’ll drop you off here,' said the fisherman. ‘In the middle of Melbourne. And I will go back; my wife is
waiting for me. See you later.' And off he was.


There they were, in Melbourne, at
Federation Square, out front of Flinders
Street Station. Amongst the sea gulls.
Amongst the people. Saint Nicolas looked
around and did what he always does
when he arrives in town: he nodded and
waved and smiled. A lot of people walked
passed. But they didn’t even look at the
Saint and Pete. Nobody looked up.
Nobody recognised them. Absolutely no
one.
'I am Saint Nicolas,' the good Saint said to
a passer-by.
The man stood still for a minute, sniffed and said: ‘Dear man, you reek of fish.' Then he walked on.
Unfortunately it was true, they did smell of fish. And nobody, no one, not a single person recognised
them. Discouraged they sat down on the stairs out front of the station.
'Here we are then,' said the Saint.
'You can say that again,' said Pete.
'No presents. No money. The people don’t recognise us. Didn’t I say so? The children only love you
because of the presents.'
At that moment a little girl holding the hand of her grandmother walked passed.
'Sainniclas...' the child called.
'That’s not Saint Nicolas,' the grandmother said. 'That’s just an old man.'
‘Sainniclas...' the child said stubbornly and she tried to let go of her grandmother’s hand.
And then another child called: 'Saint Nicolas.' A little boy started to sing: 'Look, there’s the
steamboat on its way from Spain.'
Soon hundreds of children were standing around the stairs at Flinders Street Station, all singing and
screaming with excitement.
Their fathers and mothers were saying grumpily: 'Come on, Lucy, let’s go Alex, that’s not Saint
Nicolas, you can see that. That’s a man smelling of fish.' But the children broke away from their
parents and went to say hello anyway. Saint Nicolas gave all the kids a hand and listened to their
songs.
'Where is your staff, Saint Nicolas? And where is your mitre? Where is the bag with presents?' the
children asked. Saint Nicolas told them about the shipwreck.
'How horrible!' the kids said. 'Poor Saint Nicolas. Poor Pete. The steamboat has sunk and now they
are here without clothes and without food.'
A few of the bigger kids said to each other: 'You know what. Saint Nicolas has given us presents so
many times, what if we reversed things for a change. We will give him something.’
They ran home and came back with a lot of gifts. There were sandwiches and sausages and apples
and chips and bottles of milk. One after another the children went home to get something. Aside
from food they brought real presents. They gave their most beautiful toys, their trains and their
stuffed animals. Their dolls and their computer games, their toy cars and their board games. The
adults stared at them from a distance and shook their heads.
'What a crazy situation,' they said. 'Such an ordinary man smelling of fish...'
Two more children appeared with a very, very large present.
'What could be in there?' Saint Nicolas asked curiously. He enjoyed all the presents immensely, he
could not get enough of it. Carefully he unwrapped the large gift.
And what was in there? A Saint Nicolas costume and a Pete outfit.
'We rented it for you,' the children said.
'With money from our piggy bank. The costumes will have to be returned, but you can keep them a
couple of days.' Saint Nicolas got tears in his eyes; that’s how happy he was. And Pete was dancing
with joy. They got changed in the men’s room and when they reappeared all the kids started
cheering and they sang ‘See the moon shining through the trees.’
This was Saint Nicolas, as they remembered him. This was a happy Pete, as he came every year.
Now the adults too saw that it was really them. No one was in doubt any more. Even though Saint
Nicolas and Pete still smelled of fish... it no longer bothered any one.
He was formally received, the Saint. Everyone cheered at him, even the grownups en he went to all
the houses with Pete as if nothing had ever happened. And he even had presents to hand out! Of
course, he could hand out all those gifts that he had got from the children. Every child got a present.
En no kid got their own toy, Pete made sure of that. Like that, they travelled through all of Australia.
Saint Nicolas returned to Spain by airplane and he got to fly for free with KLM because he was a Very
Important Person.
And when he was back in Spain he sent back the Saint Nicolas and Pete costumes by registered mail
with a note: This was the best 6 December in 574 years. Thank you!

* * * THE END * * *