Cruise the Storm

by David Chilcott

  The man was now speaking angrily to the barman, and pointing to a table. He marched towards it, trailed by the woman. The barman mouthed at his retreating back. McBride could lip-read, and grinned. The barman looked at McBride, and smiled back.

  McBride left the bar, and made his way to deck 7, glancing at his paperwork to check the cabin number, and quickly found number 759, only two cabins along from the central staircase. He opened the door with the card key, and was immediately impressed: a queen-size bed, a sitting area, then big sliding glass doors, leading to a fair size patio, en suite facilities with a bath and separate shower cubicle. He walked to the veranda, sliding open the doors. The rain had just about stopped now, leaving a humid grey outlook. He stood with his hands on the rail looking down at the sheer drop to the water below. To either side were frosted glazed partitions, and he could see a dim shadow of a person on the next balcony. A couple of chairs and an aluminium coffee table furnished the patio. It was cold out here, and he turned back through the glass door, shutting it behind him. He had a quick wash, and set off to explore the rest of the ship before his date with the Entertainments Director.

  He studied the plan of the boat as he strode to the lift. He supposed he ought to start at the bottom and work upwards, so he pressed the down button. As the lift descended, he realised the bottom floor for passengers was deck 4. That made sense. The decks one through three would comprise crew quarters, kitchens, canteens, stores, and so on. Plus the engine rooms, he thought. Can't discount those.

  Deck 4, McBride found out by inspection comprised the main restaurant, and adjacent to that two small eateries – one with Chinese and far eastern cuisines, the other featuring Italian food. Presumably they were grouped together, to be serviced by a common kitchen. Forward of the restaurant was cabin accommodation. About a third of this deck was the theatre auditorium, but when McBride opened a door and looked inside, he was at the back of the theatre, and the seating was set in descending rows, so that the actual stage must have been on the next deck down, at the stern.

  The rest of deck 5 he had already seen, the reception, and the bar. Already he was bored with exploration and returned to his cabin for a coffee.

  Chapter 7

  At 5pm, McBride was travelling in the lift to deck 11, and his meeting with the entertainments officer. He heard the murmur of voices and the clink of glasses before he opened the door. It sounded like a party just getting going. There was a table just inside the room, with a young woman standing behind; on the table, badges.

  "Hi," she greeted McBride, "can I give you your badge?"

  Whilst she searched the table for his badge he glanced round the room. It was large, with one wall completely window, facing forward, the docks seen from high viewpoint. There was a fair scattering of people, nearly all with glasses in their hands, standing in groups of twos and fours, the alcohol loosening their tongues. Now a tall man in a suit, approaching, smiling, hand outstretched.

  "Welcome on board, you must be John McBride. I'm Nigel Riley, entertainments director. Get yourself a drink, and join me over there." He pointed to a group of upholstered chairs round a low table.

  McBride pinned the proffered badge to his shirt, grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter, and followed the entertainments director. Some of the chairs were already occupied

  "Folk," said Nigel, "this is John McBride our artist. Round the table from the left: Anne Smith, crafts, Ken Manners, sorry, Professor Ken Manners, he's lecturer on ancient Rome, Joy Swift, she's taking dance classes, and doubling up in the cabarets. Busy girl … we're still one or two people short, but they'll turn up soon, no doubt." He paused. McBride thought he probably paused for breath. He had a rattling fast staccato delivery. Maybe he was a resting actor, rather camp. McBride was not to know, but he was a choreographer, and the cabaret had been devised by him. McBride took a seat, and Nigel sat down next to him.

  "Anything you'd like to know? Your classes will be in the Craft Room, which is one deck down from here on deck 10 and you share with Anne. Well, you do mornings, and Anne has the space in the afternoon. There's a cupboard each for your equipment"

  "I arranged for some watercolour paper to be delivered, emailed you; and arranged for some paint samples from Winsor and Newton. Have they arrived do you know?"

  "Expect so, have a look afterwards, they should be in your cupboard," said Nigel, "Now, I've got a form somewhere for you," he picked a folder off the table, fumbled through it, "ah, here you are, everything's on here. You take classes every morning at ten through one o'clock. Anne has the room two o'clock until five. Just make sure your lot clear up after themselves. It helps, you know." He handed the single sheet to McBride, then got up to circulate among the drinkers.

  McBride took a swig of wine from his glass. Anne turned to him.

  "This is exciting, don't you think? Shall we go and see what's in the Craft Room?" Her eyes sparkled through her spectacles.

  McBride tried to let her down lightly.

  "I need to mix with some more of our fellow entertainers yet, perhaps later. Or it could wait until morning."

  She was let down after all. She got up out of her chair huffily. "I'll see you then," she said and made her way to the door.

  McBride went to the drinks table, having found that he was now clutching an empty glass. When he turned round with another full glass, he found himself facing a bearded man in a blue suit. The man reached out his hand.

  "Hello, I'm Jonathon Busby, lecturer on ancient roman artefacts. You must be that artist chap. Seen some of your work somewhere – on television was it?"

  "Possibly," said McBride, "but unlikely." He looked over Busby's shoulder, not a difficult feat, since Busby was short, and saw a uniformed man, who could only be the captain bearing down on them.

  "John McBride? Welcome aboard. I'm pleased you agreed to share your painting lessons with us. I have a reason for saying that, because I'd like to enrol in your class. Surely I won't be banned?" He smiled pleasantly and McBride immediately liked him for his deprecating manner.

  "Of course, you're welcome. You're my first pupil! Ten sharp tomorrow morning in the Craft Room, I believe. I hope you won't be too busy driving the ship?"

  "It's a myth. Captains don't drive ships, they employ other people to do that. The only lengthy time I spend on the bridge is when we're entering or leaving port" He hesitated, his eyes sparkling with humour, "It gives the pilots confidence, you know."

  The captain drifted off to speak to others in the room and McBride found himself talking to the dance teacher. She would be about thirty-five, he thought, but in marvellous trim, not an ounce of surplus weight.

  "You must get an awful lot of exercise every day," he remarked. "Is it just classical, or modern dance?"

  She smiled. "In this cruise ship job, you've got to be able to do everything. Anything they can shave off the cost of entertainment without it showing to the punters is straight down to the bottom line. Another two or three years and I'll be past my best. I don't want to slide down the ladder, entertaining on smaller and tattier boats, so I'll leave the job, and set up a dance school. Just like others before me."

  "Presumably you don't get a lot of time off?"

  "No, if I'm not working, I'm practising. The advantage of this cruise business, is that you get to save all your pay, since the accommodation is paid for. It sounds as if this is your first job on the cruises."

  "You're right. My agent got me the job, without consulting me first."

  "Why? There are no agent's kickbacks, as far as I know."

  "Probably not, but this way he gets me to paint a few Mediterranean scenes that he can flog! And at least I get a nice cabin on deck 7."

  "Someone's pulled some strings, then. I'm down on the crew deck, sharing. But we do have a crew bar, and a nightclub."

  The ship's siren interrupted her words and she added, "We're leaving now" She pointed out of the window and McBride could see the dock scenery moving past the window as the ship eas
ed away from the wharf.

  Chapter 8

  McBride made his way down to his cabin to change for dinner. Before he did so, he went out onto his balcony and leant on the rail, watching the bustle of Southampton, as the cruise ship gently threaded its way past smaller boats, towards the sea. He imagined the captain, surely now on the bridge, binoculars to his eyes, feeling the full responsibility of his job.

  Once changed into a blazer and dark grey trousers, he made for the main restaurant. The maitre d' greeted him. McBride said, "McBride, I'm on table seven, I'm told."

  "Of course, Sir. In fact that is the table you are hosting," he said and led him to his table, where he was surprised to see six of the ten places already taken.

  McBride pulled up the chair he was shown to and looked round the table, smiling. "Good evening, everyone. I'm pleased to see so many of you here tonight. My worst fear was dining alone!"

  The chirpy woman on his left, obviously accompanied by the man beside her, both in their early sixties, he guessed, introduced herself in a New York accent. "I'm Birdie, and this is my husband, Ronson. We're keen water colour painters." Her eyes twinkled. "Keen, but not that good. But you might be able to do something about that! Which is why we picked this cruise."

  "I can tell you that the captain himself intends to join the class," said McBride

  Birdie's eyes grew round and said Wow!

  On the other side of McBride, there were two middle aged women, who were obviously friends travelling together.

  "Are you two joining my art classes?" he said, smiling at them.

  "Sure, we're complete beginners, though. I'm Margaret. And this is my friend Sally. We haven't brought any equipment with us. It said in the brochure that it's all provided?" Margaret looked anxiously at him.

  "Of course the cruise line provides everything for you. It's all waiting in a cupboard in the room we're using." McBride crossed his fingers under the table.

  "Hey, we're beginners, too, I'm glad we're not alone." The speaker was one of a pair of tiny women, perhaps late forties, who by their looks could only be sisters.

  "That's good," encouraged McBride, with a smile. "If you're beginners, you won't have picked up any bad habits. We'll soon make painters of you!"

  The talk turned to the weather, and there was an undertone of excitement, to be starting a new adventure, and of the painting to come over the next few days.

  Chapter 9

  A knock on the door, brought Bourne down from his daydreams, and he leaped from the bed.

  "Who is it?" he queried.

  "It's Audrey." Bourne reached over and opened the door. He was not particularly keen to see her tonight, but when she flounced in, he was surprised to see her looking very attractive in girlish clothes, and wearing make-up. With the daydream still fresh in his mind, and bolstering his spirits, he snatched at her and, and pulled her close to him.

  "Whoa, big boy," she gasped. He pushed her backwards towards the bed, and within seconds, he was thrusting, standing between her legs, her clothing dishevelled, pants roughly pushed aside; moments later, he was ejaculating, and seconds more, had turned aside, no longer interested in the girl.

  "If you're going to be miserable, I'm going," she said grumpily, sitting at his dressing table, trying to quickly tidy herself up, before traversing the corridor back to her room. But Bourne wasn't listening, pulling papers out of a drawer, and scattering them over the rumpled bed, and he hardly looked up as she left the cabin. He could hardly believe that after all this time planning the hijack, in a couple of days it would actually happen, in real time. That would be the test of his plan to be successful. The idea he had dreamt up consisted of him leaving the ship, and then checking that the ransom was in the bank. At that stage he passed a message to his fellow hijackers, and they released the passengers. If they didn't hear by a deadline time, then they shot the passengers. Either way, Bourne was safe. That was why he loved the plan.

  Chapter 10

  McBride awoke at seven o'clock with light flooding the cabin; he'd forgotten to draw the curtains. He sensed that the sun was shining before he opened his eyes to see the shadows dancing on the ceiling from the reflections off the ocean. He tried to work out where they might be. They had been steaming for – he looked at his watch, still on his wrist –thirteen hours, or more likely twelve hours, by the time the ship had got clear of the dock area. Say twenty knots, that would be, what, 280 miles south.

  He slipped on a pair of jeans and padded to the balcony. The view was magnificent. They were sailing a few kilometres off the French shore. Must be Normandy, or as he privately had called it since schooldays, the sticking out bit. From the direction of the sun, he could tell that the ship was heading south south west, so they hadn't arrived at the Bay of Biscay, but not far away, which tied in perfectly with his mileage calculations. For some reason this gave McBride a mental lift, to know that he could still plot where he was.

  That was army training.. Suddenly aware of passing time and that he had to give an art lesson this morning, he reluctantly turned away from the view and went to take a shower.

  As soon as he was dressed, he decided he ought to go up to the craft room, and have a look in the cupboards, to make sure that he had the materials for his class. He reckoned that the key might be obtainable from the reception area, where he was sure that there would be a suite of offices serving the ship's passenger administration. Using the staircase for exercise, he arrived in the lobby, and looked at the signs above counter. He saw, at one end Entertainment and Tours, but the desk was unmanned. A man came over from reception.

  "Can I help you Sir? This desk doesn't open until 09:30."

  "Yes, I'm looking for a key to the Art Cupboard in the Craft Room. John McBride is the name. I was hoping to check the contents before my class starts."

  "I think I can help you Sir, if the key is on its hook back here," he reached down behind the counter, stooping to look for the labelled hook. "You're in luck, Sir. Can you please give me a signature?" He pulled out a clip board, and the key was in McBride's hand.

  "Can you tell me if I can get breakfast on deck 10?"

  "Of course, in the Grill Room, until 11.00am."

  McBride, got even more exercise using the stairs up to deck 10, and he was breathing heavily by the time he had run the six levels.

  The craft room itself was open. It was an airy room with windows along one complete wall, and tables spaced out across the area. There was a composition 'easy wipe' floor, and several pin boards on the walls. In one corner there were two floor-to-ceiling cupboards. McBride went over, and put the key in the one that was labelled art equipment. There were several open shelves and half a dozen drawers. He spotted the art paper straight away in a cellophane pack labelled with the Bockingford logo, and a sticker identifying the paper as 200lb. Watercolour paper size imperial -- NOT. So far, so good. He spotted a parcel from Winsor and Newton and hefted it to a nearby table. He pulled the advice note out of its envelope glued to the front. Yes, this was okay, too. Thirty complimentary boxes containing tubes of artists watercolours.

  Back at the cupboard McBride found ten drawing boards, stacked on the bottom shelf. There were water containers, and palettes, too, all needing a good wash. He scanned the room. Yes there were a row of stainless steel sinks along one wall. One of the drawers revealed watercolour brushes, of varying quality, and state. Presumably some could be salvaged.

  He put the parcel of paints back in the cupboard, and locked it; now for some breakfast. It was still only half past eight.

  At the door to The Grill, McBride picked up a copy of The Helena, and chose a small table. He glanced at the ship's tabloid. The headline read: Steaming past Normandy! There was a weather forecast (good) and details of what to do in Vigo, when the Spanish port was entered, which apparently would be during the early hours of tomorrow morning.

  McBride drank a strong black coffee and ate a brioche. He remembered he had left his easel in his cabin and stood up to go, leav
ing the newspaper on the table.

  Reckoning he had had enough exercise for the morning, he descended in the lift to deck 7. He collected his easel, and came back the same way.

  When he got back to the craft room the captain was there already.

  He greeted him with a smile, and opened the art cupboard. "Ten minutes until we kick off, so if you would just help me lay out some equipment, that will help." Nothing like bossing the captain around.

  Within minutes, they had set up ten tables with water containers, drawing boards, paints, and a sheet of watercolour paper in each place.

  Whilst they were finishing this task, there was a timid knock on the door, and the two sisters Margaret and Sally entered. McBride waved across at them.

  "Come on in, Margaret and Sally!" Almost immediately the married couple followed them, accompanied by the two women friends, and soon the room was filled with excited chattering.

  McBride set up his easel and clipped a sheet of watercolour paper to the board. He adjusted the angle, so that it was easily visible to the pupils.

  "Since we're all at different levels of learning, today I've got to assess you all." He turned to the sisters, "I know you are complete beginners, because you told me last night, and that is fine.

  "What I want to do now is draw a simple imaginary scene in pencil, and then show you how to make a painting. So, if you clip your paper to your boards, just copy my drawing. Don't press too hard with your pencil, or after you finish the painting, the lines will stand out too prominently."

  McBride quickly drew a small cottage part of the way up a hill, with other hills, and a fairly low horizon. He blocked in a group of trees around the cottage, and a path leading up to a gate. He put in a couple of rows of hedges.