The Cruise

by Anthony Hulse

  The Cruise

  Anthony Hulse

  Copyright @ Anthony Hulse 2014

  ISBN: 978-1-291-81479-8

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the author, except for the quotations in a review.

  Prologue

  June 1st, 1925, Mediterranean Sea.

  The Empress Medina drifted on a sea of glass; a sea so calm and tranquil. The Greek sailors observed the magnificent passenger liner when their colleagues prepared to board. Little did they know that they were in attendance of one of the nautical mysteries of the twentieth century. Why the cruise ship was deserted is still one of the focal points discussed by historians today. The Greek seamen who boarded her were amazed at the sight that befell them that fine afternoon. All the lifeboats had been launched, and closer inspection of the galley revealed that no food or drink was present on board the Empress Medina.

  Many explanations were offered over the years that followed. It was suggested pirates had plundered her, but this theory was rapidly dismissed, as the luxurious liner remained unblemished and retained her magnificent and lavish furnishings. Numerous valuable paintings and artwork adorned the ship, but they were left intact. There may have been a fire prompted others, but no sign of a blaze was evident. The ship, under close scrutiny was found to be in tip-top condition. So what compelled five hundred and thirty passengers and crew to abandon a seaworthy luxury cruiser in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea? Perhaps there had been a storm, but that theory also was dismissed, as the weather had been fine for weeks.

  Eight lifeboats had put to sea and had disappeared into thin air. No wreckage was ever found, which added to the enigma. The official inquiry revealed that the Empress Medina left Naples at one- fifteen pm on 10th June 1925. On board were three hundred and eighty passengers and one hundred and fifty crew members.

  Captain Bill Perkins, an experienced officer was appointed the task of navigating the ship around the Mediterranean, along with a reliable and experienced crew. Among the passengers was the owner of the ship, James Davenport, a close friend of the captain. This was the third cruise of the great ship; a ship so lavish that only the rich and famous could afford to sail her. The Empress Medina was compared to the tragic liner, the Titanic. Not that she was anywhere near as vast, but at 500 feet and weighing 20,000 tons, she was a magnificent spectacle.

  James Davenport had a vision; to build a magnificent cruise liner for the sole purpose of luxury cruises. No expense was spared; the fittings and decorations suitable for a royal palace. One of the issues that arose from the inquiry was the question of the lifeboats. A lesson should have been learnt from the Titanic, which sunk thirteen years earlier, but this seemed to have gone unheeded. The Empress Medina carried only eight lifeboats; each one with the capacity to comfortably accommodate sixty people. Four hundred and eighty people would have filled the vessels, which prompted the poser; what happened to the other fifty people?

  The official report concluded that James Davenport was guilty of negligence. The ship was abandoned prematurely; probably because the captain believed they were sinking. Captain Bill Perkins came under attack for his actions and his name was disgraced. This did not answer the question of what happened to the passengers? To this day, it is a mystery such as the Marie Celeste. The truth in fact was so macabre and unbelievable that the scaremongers could not come up with a story as strange as what actually took place on that fateful voyage.

  Chapter One

  June 2001.

  Situations vacant. Labourers wanted. Apply within.

  Ben Duncan was not a happy man. Six years in the army and this is all they had to offer him. The Royal Signals had been his life; his pitiful life. Ben picked up the grubby card and passed it to the uncaring clerk, who waved her hands frantically in an effort to dry her red nail polish. All that Ben had to show for his existence was two thousand pounds in his bank account. It had been two months since he left Bosnia; two months of boring, tedious hell. How he regretted leaving his vocation; his introduction into this humdrum society a great disappointment..

  Natasha, his wife, had nagged and nagged him to leave the army.

  “Go and get a proper job,” she would say.

  Well, now here he was, one of life's statistics, searching for that non-existent stimulating vacancy.

  “Haven’t you got anything in telecommunications, luv?”

  “We have what you see,” said the clerk, who fed another stick of gum into her mouth.

  “Don’t you think I’m a bit over qualified for a labourer?”

  “That’s not my problem. Take it or leave it.”

  Ben tossed the card to the ground and stormed out of the building, his pride unfulfilled. Two hours later, and five pints of best bitter had been consumed. Natasha would give him hell, but so what. The alcohol would compensate for the earache.

  An elderly, red-nosed man sat opposite Ben. “They shouldn’t be allowed in the country those Kosovans. Enoch bloody Powell wouldn’t have tolerated it.”

  “What the fuck do you know?” snarled Ben. “Do you realise what those poor bastards had to put up with?”

  The old man swallowed a liberal mouthful of his beer. “Scroungers, that’s all they are. Bloody scroungers.”

  Ben retaliated. “I saw what they went through. Whole generations massacred. Parents having to watch whilst their children had their heads smashed in with rifle butts.”

  “I didn’t fight a bloody war to let more bloody foreigners in the country,” grunted the old man.

  “No, you’re right, you didn’t fight a war, but I did.” Ben drained his beer and left the Miners Inn. He would rather listen to his wife than that old, racist codger. Even through all of their hard times and quarrels, he still loved Natasha. Her incessant nagging he could tolerate; after all, she too must be feeling the pressure of their dwindling finances.

  Ben made his way home and removed his tee shirt on the way. It was going to be another hot one. At thirty-five years of age, Ben was still psychically fit, due to his army life. He ran his fingers through the stubble of his head as he contemplated his next move. The Territorial Army was a possibility, but it was only part time. Now he had left the army, they would have more time together. Natasha had hinted to him about the prospects of having a baby at last. What future would there be for a baby coming into this world? What would they do for money? Ben had only known the army. It was not great money, but with his promotion to lance corporal, the added income was appreciated. Even so, Natasha insisted he must leave the army in order to salvage their marriage.

  Inwardly, Ben believed Natasha did not trust him. Being overseas all of that time, she had her doubts about his infidelity. His rugged looks and dark eyes attracted many women admirers. Ben had stayed faithful to her, even though he had been propositioned more than once. Yes, he still loved his wife.

  At the age of thirty-two, Natasha was an attractive woman. Ben could not believe his eyes when he returned home and realised just what he had missed. Natasha had been regularly visiting the gym, and her shapely, toned body was the result of hours of strenuous exercise. She had lost her excess weight; not that she was ever fat. She was a perfect example of women that ripen with age. The thought did occur to him that his wife’s appearance was prompted by infidelity, but he quickly dismissed that notion. He trusted her whole-heartedly.

  He looked into the distance to see the chimneys bellow their yellow smoke into the atmosphere. Even th
e steelworks had no vacancies, a job he could have walked into a couple of years ago. Middlesbrough would soon be a desolate ghost town he reckoned. What a forlorn future for all of those young lads.

  He approached his house and Natasha was waiting for him. She was lounged in the garden, a glass of wine in her hand.

  “Ben, Ben, come here, you ravenous hunk.”

  “Are you drunk, Nat?”

  “Read this. Go on, read it. You won’t believe it.”

  She kissed him on the lips.

  He accepted the letter and read it aloud.

  “Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Duncan. I am pleased to announce that with reference to you entering our prize draw, you have successfully won a trip for two on the elegant and luxurious cruise liner, The Empress Medina on 10th June. The duration of the cruise will be three weeks, taking in the ports of Iraklion, Limassol, Kusadasi, Port Said, Piraeus and finally Genoa. In addition to the cruise, you have won one thousand pounds spending money. To claim your prize please contact our office at the above number. We will be delighted to hear from you. Your prize money and flight tickets to our embarkation point in Naples will be allocated to you just as soon as we receive your call. Bon voyage.”

  Natasha kissed her husband on the cheek. “You see, Ben; our luck has changed at last.”

  “When did you enter this competition, Nat?”

  “Me, I thought you entered it.”

  “I haven’t heard of Pandora Promotions. You must’ve entered it.”

  “I’m sure I never, Ben. Maybe you forgot you entered it?”

  “As I’ve already said, I never entered any competition.”

  “Well, we’ve won anyway, darling.”

  Ben pondered. “Don’t hold your breath. It’s probably a mistake, knowing my luck. Maybe it‘s one of those scams. We call the number and then they ask us for money.”

  Natasha scowled at her husband. “Don’t say that. I’ve always dreamt of going on a cruise and now we have that opportunity.”

  “We can only ring them and see can’t we? Any mention of us paying a fee though and I’m hanging up.”

  Ben tapped in the numbers and Natasha leant expectantly on his shoulder.

  “Hello, I’m ringing about the cruise you claim we’ve won.”

  “What is the name please?” The voice was male.

  “Duncan, Ben Duncan.”

  “One moment please.”

  Ben shrugged his shoulders as Natasha jumped up and down like an excited child.

  “Mr Duncan, there is a number at the top of your letter. Could you give me that number please?”

  “Yes, it’s P35585j60.”

  “Congratulations, Mr Duncan, we’ll send you your money and tickets along with the conditions immediately.”

  “Conditions? What’s the snag?”

  “No snag, sir. There are certain rules you must abide by whilst sailing with us; and oh, there is a strict dress code.”

  Ben persisted. “Could you tell me who exactly won this holiday? Was it my wife or did I win it?”

  “It is irrelevant, sir. Have an enjoyable cruise. I look forward to meeting you both.”

  Ben turned to his wife. “It seems we’re going on a cruise.”

  Chapter Two

  Ben perused his morning newspaper and enjoyed his breakfast in the sun-bathed garden. Natasha had done wonders with the garden. Numerous rose bushes and various shrubs adorned the edges of the green, luscious lawn. She settled the pot of coffee on the table and grinned at Ben, who swatted away a bee.

  “What’ve you got planned for today, luv? How about a trip to the coast?”

  “We have to tighten the purse strings, Nat if we want to go on that cruise.”

  Natasha sighed. “They’re giving us a grand spending money. Come on; let’s make the most of the weather.”

  “And what’ll we do for clothes on this cruise? Remember, he said there was a dress code. I don’t think they’ll be too happy if I turned up in jeans and a tee shirt, do you?”

  “You worry too much.” She leaned over and kissed him.

  Ben continued to swat away at the bee. “Have you seen the clobber they wear on those cruises? It’ll cost us a small fortune.”

  Natasha refused to see the negatives. “We have our savings. We’ll worry about the cost when we get home. Let’s just make this the best holiday we’ve ever had.”

  “I don’t know, Nat; you know how I hate water. Besides, that money was for our future and the security of our child, when the day comes.”

  “Don’t be such a bloody scrooge. I’m sure you’ll find a job soon.”

  She returned indoors and left Ben to finish his newspaper. A lawnmower started up. Ben rose from his chair and stretched to see Glenda, his next-door neighbour. She wore a tiny bikini that strained to contain her ample breasts. She loved to tease Ben, ignorant to Natasha’s complaints. Glenda continued to mow his garden, oblivious to a now very hot spectator.

  “You’ll go blind, darling,” said Natasha, who browsed through a collection of mail.

  Ben turned to face his wife. “I thought she was your best friend. You must tell her what she’s doing to my blood pressure.”

  “You know Glenda. She’s such a flirt, but she’s harmless.”

  “Isn’t it about time she married?” quizzed Ben.

  “This is it!” screamed Natasha. “The letter about the cruise. Here, you open it.”

  Ben sipped his coffee and looked into his wife's eyes. Her red hair cascaded over her shoulders, her perfect teeth gleamed and her blue eyes sparkled. Yes, she certainly had mellowed with age. One of the reasons he was attracted to her was her cute little button nose. How he loved that nose.

  “Well, are you going to open it or not?”

  He wrestled the letter out of the envelope. “It’s true, babe, we’ve definitely won. Here are the tickets and a cheque for one thousand pounds.”

  Natasha threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth.

  “Excuse me, do you mind leaving that for the bedroom,” joked Glenda.

  Natasha leaned on the fence. “They’ve arrived, Glenda. The tickets for the cruise. They’ve even give us airline tickets to Naples.”

  “You lucky sods. Which competition did you enter?”

  “That's just it, Glenda, we didn’t.”

  Ben delved back into the envelope. “Here are the conditions. We’re to be picked up at Capodichino International Airport in Naples and taken to the Hotel Vessuvio, where a Mr Davenport will meet us. He’ll then brief us on the cruise. Christ! Are we going on a cruise or on a secret mission? Brief us, shit.”

  “Aren’t you excited? A hotel in Naples?” enthused Natasha.

  “We’re to stay overnight,” continued Ben. “This is unbelievable. Listen to this. Your clothing for the cruise will be provided on our arrival in Naples.”

  Natasha clapped her hands together. “That’s even better, darling. We don’t have to splash out for clothes.”

  “It sounds kinky to me,” added Glenda.

  Ben scratched his head. “What type of a cruise is this? They provide us with clothes.”

  “Oh, Ben, it’ll be marvellous,” grinned Natasha.

  “Do you think so? This is weird.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a fuddy-duddy.”

  Ben continued to read the letter. “There are no details of the boat or the voyage.”

  “It’s a ship, Ben, not a boat. A ship.”

  “I’m not sure about this. It sounds like a wind-up to me.”

  “What have we to lose? We can always come back home. Come on, Ben, don’t spoil it.”

  “Ok, we’ll meet this Mr Davenport and find out what this is all about.”

  ******

  Ben felt uncomfortable in his tie, as he pushed the baggage trolley through Capodichino International Airport. Natasha had insisted that he wore his suit and tie, much to the annoyance of her husband. They were suspicious, concerning the proposed supply of clothes, and had made a la
rge hole in their bank account to purchase new outfits. Natasha insisted on the shopping spree; after all, they could keep the receipts and return the clothes if they were not needed. Natasha looked more like a movie star with her new hair-do and expensive cream trouser suit.

  Ben loosened his tie and removed his jacket, the intense heat stifling. A short man who wore a black suit and chauffeurs cap held up a sign with their name on it.

  “My god, Ben, a chauffeur. They’ve sent us a bloody chauffeur.”

  Ben noticed there were four other chauffeurs with signs, close to the exit to the terminal. He wondered if they were connected.

  “I’m Mr Duncan and this is my wife.”

  The chauffeur nodded and walked towards the exit without saying a word. They followed him and pushed their luggage trolley into the blinding sunshine.

  Ben hesitated. “A bloody limousine. He’s driving a bloody limousine.”

  Natasha giggled and linked Ben, which made pushing the trolley difficult. As they approached the black limousine, the chauffeur opened the large boot and proceeded to load the luggage. Ben noticed the same procedure being applied to four other limousines. He nudged his wife and indicated to her the strange occurrence. Four other couples looked as bemused as they did, as the loading was under way. The chauffeur, still silent, opened the rear door for them and nodded. They pulled out of the airport and Ben looked towards the mini bar and pointed. The chauffeur peered through his mirror and nodded.

  “What’s it to be, Nat? Champagne?” smiled Ben.

  “Champagne will be fine, Jeeves,” she laughed.

  “I’m starting to enjoy this holiday. Who’d have thought me, Lance Corporal Duncan, flying first class to Naples and sipping champers in a limo?”

  “I can’t wait to tell the girls,” giggled Natasha.

  They had emptied the bottle of champagne before they had arrived at the Hotel Vessuvio.

  Ben gazed impressively at the impressive structure. “Would you look at that? What a size?”