The Cruise

by Anthony Hulse

  Natasha seemed understandably overawed. The hotel was surely an establishment frequented by the wealthy. This was a thousand years away from the self-catering apartments she was used to.

  As the chauffeur opened the door for them, they noticed the four other couples embark from their limousines. Judging by the bewildered looks on their faces, they were obviously as curious as they were. A flock of porters emerged from the hotel and unloaded the cases. The five couples walked towards the main doors to be greeted by an elderly looking gentleman who sported a smart Gucci suit.

  “Welcome to the Hotel Vessuvio. My name is Luigi. I wish you an enjoyable stay with us. Will you walk this way please?”

  The five couples examined each other suspiciously and followed Luigi. The sight that befell them was magnificent. A huge waterfall dominated the hotel reception; the marble decor luxurious and obviously sculptured by the finest craftsmen. They approached the reception desk and ploughed through the plush white piled carpet. Heads of the revellers turned as they watched the newcomers signing the book.

  Luigi rubbed his hands together. “Here are your room keys. I’m sure you will want to freshen up first before meeting Mr Davenport. Your luggage has been dispatched to your rooms. If you could meet me here in say two hours, I will introduce you to Mr Davenport.”

  A porter led them to their rooms. Silence was maintained by each of the couples, each suspicious and curious by their apparent companions. Ben and Natasha were allotted room number 313. The porter let them in and waited. Natasha nudged Ben and he delved into his pocket for some loose change. The porter did not look too impressed when he left them.

  “How much did you give him, Ben?”

  “Fifty pence. I haven’t any Italian money in change.”

  “You bloody cheapskate. Fifty pence. What an embarrassment.”

  Ben shrugged. “If he receives fifty pence from every guest in this hotel he’ll be a millionaire in no time. Have you seen the size of this place?”

  Natasha proceeded to explore their luxurious room. “Over here, Ben! We have a bloody jacuzzi.”

  “Would you look at the size of that four-poster bed?” grinned Ben.

  “Pinch me. I think I’m still dreaming,” enthused Natasha.

  Ben settled on the soft bed. The emerald green silk sheets complimented the surroundings. “What I’d like to know is what the hell is going on… Did you see those other couples? They were as bemused as us.”

  “You’re always suspicious aren’t you, Ben Duncan? Can’t you accept there are some honest people out there?”

  “You’d be suspicious if you’d been through what I have. Trust nobody and suspect everybody.”

  “You’re not in the bloody army now. Leave it out will you.”

  Ben cheered up. “I’m going to use that jacuzzi. Let’s make the most of it.”

  “He said two hours didn’t he, Ben?” asked Natasha, with a twinkle in her eye and a grin on her face.

  Before long, the couple enjoyed a romp in the Jacuzzi. The occasion and the settings had made them feel rather amorous.

  Chapter Three

  Ben and Natasha admired the lavish paintings on the hotel walls when they descended the staircase, hand in hand. Natasha hated lifts, and besides, they were only on the third floor. Natasha reddened when she noticed the other couples sat close to the reception and hoped they were not waiting for them. Had they guessed what Ben and Natasha had been doing for the last two hours or so? They smiled at the other couples and joined them.

  Ben broke the eerie silence. “It seems as though we’ve all won a cruise around the Med. Am I correct?”

  The others nodded.

  “So where is this mysterious Mr Davenport?”

  “I’m standing immediately behind you, Mr Duncan. Don’t worry; everything will become a lot clearer later. Would you follow me please?”

  As they followed Davenport down a long corridor, Natasha whispered. “How did he know who you were?”

  “I was wondering that myself.”

  They entered a large chamber. It was comfortably furnished with large brown leather chairs and walnut coffee tables. A colourful neon-lit bar occupied the latter half of the chamber.

  “Can I offer you a drink before we begin?” asked Davenport.

  Nobody declined and the group lined up at the bar. Ben and Natasha sank into their soft leather chairs, content with their whiskies. Davenport stood at the front of the bar and resembled a schoolteacher waiting to begin a lesson. Davenport was a tall, stocky man. He wore a navy blue blazer with gold buttons, and his shirt collar was open. His white slacks and brown leather shoes completed his costume. His grey-slicked back hair was parted down the middle. It was difficult to put an age on him. His craggy features said sixty, but his boyish charm made him appear younger.

  “I apologise for the secrecy and the curiousness that you must be feeling at this time. My name is James Davenport and I run a fleet of luxury passenger liners. Before I go on, I’ll introduce you to each other.”

  Handshakes were exchanged as Davenport poured himself a large brandy.

  “Mr Davenport, how did you know who I was earlier?” quizzed Ben.

  “I watched you disembark from my limousine and was familiar with which driver I allotted you. Once I saw you, it is locked up there.” He pointed to his head. “It is registered in my memory. I never forget a face.”

  “The competition, Mr Davenport. What exactly was the competition?” probed Ben.

  Ben noticed a few heads nodding their assent.

  “Mr Duncan, there was no competition. Let me explain… You were specially picked from my selection committee for this cruise.”

  “Why us?” asked a bearded man in a cockney accent who was attired in a white shirt.

  “Because, Mr Cummings, you all met with my approval. You were whittled down from over fifty thousand individuals.”

  “But why us? How did we qualify for this cruise?” quizzed a large black man.

  “If you let me continue, Mr Harper, all will be revealed.”

  Davenport lit a large King Edward cigar and continued. “Seventy six years ago, a luxury cruise liner, the Empress Medina was found abandoned in the Mediterranean Sea, ten miles from Crete. There was no trace of the crew or passengers. Many theories were put forward as to what occurred, but none of them feasible. No food or drink was found on board. Did the passengers and crew take it with them? It would make sense if they were putting to sea in lifeboats… The owner of the ship was aboard for that cruise. His name was James Davenport. Yes, he was my grandfather. He was made the scapegoat for what happened. It was claimed there were not enough lifeboats for the crew and passengers, but if that were true, what happened to the people that were left behind? More importantly, why did almost five hundred passengers abandon a healthy, unblemished cruise liner…? Seventy-six years on and I’ve built a replica of the Empress Medina; a ship identical in every way to the original, down to the cutlery they were using.”

  “That must have cost you a packet.”

  “Money is of no consequence to me, Mr Duncan. It’s always been my ambition to clear my grandfather’s name. Alas, that does not seem possible, so I’ve decided to follow in his footsteps and follow the route he took before the tragedy occurred.”

  Cummings butted in. “Mr Davenport, I still don’t understand. What qualities do we have that prompted you to choose us?”

  “You’re all approximately the same age as my grandfather’s companions on that fateful voyage. None of you have criminal records, and so you fit my criteria.”

  Ben was curious. “Excuse me, Mr Davenport, but looking around here, I would have to say that we move in different circles to the friends your grandfather must have been acquainted with. I for one can honestly say that I’m working class. You stated it was a luxury cruise. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to afford such a trip.”

  “Mr Duncan, my grandfather was from a humble background. He started off in a shipbuilding yard before h
e built up his empire. He never forgot his roots and surrounded himself with his old friends. He never forgot them. His companions on the voyage were people he used to work with, along with their wives.”

  A blonde, handsome man interrupted. “Mr Davenport, in your letter you spoke of conditions. What are these conditions?”

  Davenport took a long draw on his cigar. “Ah yes, Mr Cooper, the conditions. I’ve issued each of you with a fine assortment of clothes, the best you could buy in 1925.”

  “It’s a wind-up right?”

  “No, it’s not a wind-up as you call it, Mr Cooper. On the cruise, you will at all times wear the clothes provided. Another of my conditions is that I have identities for you all. You can of course retain your real names, but I’ll change your background to assume the identities of my grandfather’s friends.”

  “Aren’t you going a bit far?” asked Cooper.

  “Not at all. If you wish to leave, then do by all means. This will be a trip of a lifetime, in which you will be lavishly rewarded and lauded over. You have until tomorrow morning to think it over.”

  “Are there any more conditions?” asked Harper.

  “Now that you ask, yes there is. Once on board, only old currency from the nineteen-twenties will be used. I’ll change your Sterling before we board. For other currencies, when we stop at foreign ports you will see me, and me only. You’re not to approach the crew with such trivial matter. And one more thing; no modern gadgets. For example, mobile phones and cameras will not be allowed on board under any circumstances. You can leave them in the safe here at the hotel until you arrive back.”

  “How many people will be on board, Mr Davenport?” asked a black woman, who was obviously the wife of Harper.

  “Five hundred and thirty, Cheryl. I want everything to be exactly the same as it was then. I realise that some of you have children, but no children were present on the original voyage; you see, my grandfather wanted an adult cruise only. Not that he didn’t like children. He thought it would be more relaxing without their presence.”

  “So what exactly is our role in all of this?” quizzed a short, red-faced fat man in his thirties.

  “Ah, Mr Quinn. Your role will to be my companions. I’ll assume the role of my grandfather and you’ll enjoy yourself… Another thing; the crew are my regulars, and they’ll also assume the identities of the original crew. The other passengers are also under strict orders to act out the roles of the passengers who sailed the Empress Medina those many years ago.”

  “Aren’t you taking this a bit far, Mr Davenport? I mean, all of this trouble for what?”

  “For what, Mr Duncan? For a dying man who has always dreamt of the day when I could sail the great liner. Yes, I’m slowly dying. Two years at the most the doctors give me.”

  Cummings spoke up. “How did you manage to persuade the passengers to play along? After all, there are over three hundred of them.”

  “They are actors. I hired them for a substantial amount of money. Just two-bit actors mind you. I visited hundreds of acting agencies to make my eventual selection.”

  Ben spoke up. “Well, this is the strangest holiday I’ve ever taken, but I’m game if Natasha agrees.”

  Natasha smiled. “Mr Davenport; I’d love to cruise on your ship.”

  “Thank you. I’ll give you until the morning to decide. Anyone who chooses not to participate will be reimbursed with ample expenses for their fare home. We board the Empress Medina at one-fifteen exactly. The night is yours to do as you please. See some of the marvellous sights of Naples, or if you prefer, remain in this splendid hotel. Everything you eat or drink is to be placed on my bill… Before I go, I’ll give you your identities. It is important that you learn your role.” He handed out the envelopes to the men only. “Enjoy yourselves. Goodbye.”

  Davenport stubbed out his cigar and left the five couples to ponder amongst themselves.

  “Well, that is one strange fish,” said Harper in a West Indian accent.

  “Free drinks did he say?” asked Cummings, who made his way to the bar to freshen his vodka.

  Quinn turned to Ben. “What do you think of him, Duncan?”

  “I think he’s cuckoo, but if he wants to pay for our holiday, then he’s welcome.”

  “You’ve soon changed your tune,” said Natasha.

  “It’s just the clothes I’m not happy with. We all have to dress up like Charlie bloody Chaplin.”

  “I think it’s so romantic,” butted in the wife of Cooper, a pretty blonde girl.

  Ben rubbed his hands together. “Right, what’s it to be? A trip around Naples or a free piss-up?”

  The decision was unanimous.

  ******

  “Tell me, Joe, what do you do for a living?” Ben slurred his words as he checked his wristwatch. It was just after ten-thirty and they were drinking at the expense of their mysterious host. Old Davenport would have have some bill in the morning.

  Ben and Natasha had bonded with Joe Cummings and his wife, Sarah. Natasha and Sarah were deep into conversation. They had found a subject that they both loved, TV soaps. Sarah looked like a throwback from the flower- power days of the sixties, with her braided hair and her John Lennon spectacles. Joe drank whiskey as if it was water. He was seemingly a down to earth type.

  “What do I do for a living?” echoed Joe, who lit a cigarette. “I work on an oil rig. How about you?”

  “I’m one of life's statistics at the moment. I left the army in April and now I’m drawing the dole.”

  “That’s bad shit, man,” said Joe, as he stroked his straggly beard, “I might be able to do something for you.”

  “What? On an oil rig? I don’t think so. I hate water. That‘s why I never joined the navy.”

  Joe sniggered. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, Ben, but this ship we are going on, it has to cross the water.”

  “I know that, but these ships nowadays, they’re unsinkable, right?”

  “These days they may be, but the Empress Medina is built with exactly the same specifications as the original.”

  “Shit, you’re a cheerful soul, aren’t you?”

  The Jamaican couple, Ross and Cheryl Harper chatted away merrily to Norman Quinn and his equally obese wife, Wendy. The attractive couple, Danny Cooper and his blonde wife, Cindy smooched, ignorant of the leering audience.

  “If she put her tongue any further down his throat it’ll come out of his arse,” joked Joe.

  “She looks a bit of a goer though, doesn’t she?” slurred Ben.

  The two drooled over their drinks, much to the amusement of their wives.

  “Have you tried out the jacuzzi yet, Sarah?” asked Natasha.

  “No, have you?” Her eyes lit up. “You haven’t. I wondered why you two were late down.”

  Natasha sipped her whiskey. “I think I’m going to enjoy this cruise.”

  “Where’re you from, Nat? You sound like a Geordie.”

  “Teesside. And you?”

  Sarah belched. “Can’t you tell? I’m a cockney and proud of it,” she said, as she lit a cigarette.”

  Natasha motioned towards the amorous couple. “Would you look at those two? They’re ready to go the whole way.”

  Danny Cooper’s hands mauled his wife’s breasts.

  Norman Quinn wiped his brow. He crossed his legs and tried to conceal his erection.

  Luigi approached the amorous couple and cleared his throat. They never registered his presence and carried on with their antics.

  “Excuse me please. If you don’t mind, could you please continue in your room? I am not a prude, you must understand, but I’ve received numerous complaints.”

  The couple struggled to their feet, still locked in embrace. They moved on without saying a word.

  “Lucky bastard,” whispered Joe.

  “What was that, darling?” asked Sarah, who stubbed out her cigarette.

  “I said, mucky bastard, luv.”

  “I thought you did. Don’t you think you’ve had
enough to drink?”

  “Shit, the night is young.”

  “What is your new identity, Joe?”

  “Identity? What identity?”

  “Exactly,” moaned Sarah. “You’re pissed.”

  Ben checked his wristwatch. “Sarah’s right, we should call it a night. We’ll bankrupt old Davenport at this rate.”

  The couples said their goodnights and staggered towards the lift. Ben and Natasha decided to take the staircase. They collapsed on their luxury four-poster bed and were asleep within minutes.

  Chapter Four

  Davenport was in the restaurant to greet his guests the next morning. Everyone was present, apart from the young lovebirds, Danny and Cindy Cooper.

  “I hope you thoroughly enjoyed your evening. I heard that some enjoyed it more than others,” said the host, with a wry grin on his face.

  “Young love,” muttered Norman Quinn, his plate piled high with an English breakfast.

  “How would you know?” exclaimed his wife, Wendy, whose plate was also overloaded.

  Davenport continued. “After breakfast, I’ll issue you each with an envelope. It will contain five hundred pounds in old currency. I’ve decided to reward you amply for your participation on the voyage… One other thing.” He looked towards Joe Cummings. “There will be strictly no obscene language on board my ship. Such language is more fitting for a ramshackle merchant schooner… After your breakfast, you’ll please return to your rooms and select your outfit for boarding the ship. Your own personal clothes can be left here and you can collect them after the cruise. Meet me here at eleven 'o'clock prompt.”

  Danny and Cindy joined them and Davenport repeated the instructions.

  “I trust that there will not be a recurrence of such lurid behaviour on my ship. Remember, you must act as ladies and gentlemen. You’ll be mixing with people in high society and I expect that you will act accordingly.”

  “I thought you said they were only actors, Mr Davenport?” asked Ross Harper.

  “They are, but like I said, I want this voyage to be as realistic as possible. They will play out their role and I trust that you will play out yours. Mr Cooper, what is your occupation?”