The Cruise

by Anthony Hulse

  “Are we talking of Penelope Craven the twenties debonair, or the actress who is playing her?”

  “You know my rules, Mr Duncan. Please drop the subject.”

  Ben raised his voice. “But surely, the pretence must conclude now. If those people are really dying, then you must abort your game.”

  “Game? This is not a game! As I have stated, Mr Duncan, you’ll bide by the conditions put to you previous to us setting sail.”

  “So you intend to carry on with this farce, even though we may have a murderer aboard ship?” Ben realised how ludicrous he must sound. If this is merely a sham, then Davenport must be overjoyed at his reaction.

  “Second Officer Bagley will return with the police and the culprit will be apprehended. This should not disrupt our venture.”

  “I hope you’re making the correct decision. You’re playing with people’s lives here.”

  “Mr Duncan, you and your associates have been well rewarded. See out your end of the bargain. That is all that I ask of you.”

  The tall, grey-haired ship owner left Ben alone with his thoughts; the thoughts that conveyed to him that Davenport was indeed insane.

  Chapter Eleven

  That evening, Davenport had called an emergency meeting in the Grand Stateroom. He climbed onto the stage and addressed his mass audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll convey to you what I’ve already told your companions on the lower deck. At midday, we launched a lifeboat with the sick and some of our crew… its destination Limassol. Before the fog came down, we ascertained that we were anchored about half a mile off Limassol. We have so far had no word from them. We have a slight malfunction with our radio and our engineers are working on it as we speak. I believe that when the fog lifts, the Cypriots will send supplies out to us. Until that time I ask you to be patient. It would be unwise to eat any food from our galleys until it has been given the all clear from the authorities. I can only apologise for the inconvenience, and I’m prepared to offer you all a week’s free cruise after the completion of this one. I hope that this offer will compensate for this inconvenience.”

  The audience burst into life and offered light applause.

  Davenport held up his hands and continued. “Although, I believe the contaminated food to be minimal, the bottled drinks, especially the champagne should warrant no such problems. To ease your doubt, I’ll sample a glass of champagne. If you please, Bates.”

  The butler passed a tray to Davenport, who selected one of the glasses. He drank without hesitation. “Thank God for small mercies.”

  The audience erupted into laughter.

  “Enjoy yourselves, friends. If we cannot eat, then at least we can drink. The ballroom will be open as usual and I want to see you all enjoying yourselves. Tomorrow, we’ll be restocked with the finest food and drinks. Until then, cheers.”

  Davenport was applauded off the stage. The alleged murderer was forgotten for now.

  ******

  It was business as usual in the ballroom. The bright, colourful women danced the Charleston, and their pearls and necklaces swayed in time to the music. Various subjects were being discussed by the other passengers, from George Gershwin to Douglas Fairbanks. Buster Keaton to Harold Lloyd. Jack Dempsey, the famed boxer featured high on the topical conversations of the opulent husbands, who watched their joyous wives dance without a care in the world.

  “Ben, this killer. Is he for real?” asked Norman Quinn.

  “Norman, to tell you the truth, I had a conversation with old Davenport earlier and I’m still not sure. That man is an enigma.”

  Joe took a swig from his champagne. “There is no poisoner, Norman. It’s like how shall we put it? One of those murder weekends. I bet there isn’t any poison either. It’s all part of Davenport’s game.”

  “So you’re saying the food is safe to eat?” queried Norman’s wife, Wendy.

  “Of course it is, just as this champers is okay to drink.”

  Wendy was not so sure. “Why then would he launch a lifeboat in this fog with the so called sick?”

  Joe attempted to offer an explanation. “He’s probably played out this fantasy hundreds of times. He’s the one who is sick, but if he wants me to drink his lovely champagne, then so be it.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Ben.

  “You suspect everyone and everything, Ben. The army taught you that,” stated Natasha.

  “Don’t you think it’s funny? Not one of these so-called actors or actresses has slipped up. Go on; ask any one of them a question.”

  “Okay,” interrupted Cindy Cooper. “I will ask.”

  She tapped a middle-aged man on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir. Could you please tell me who the prime minister is?”

  The man arched an eyebrow. “What a strange question, young lady. Dance with me and I’ll answer your question.”

  Cindy looked towards Danny and he nodded. The couple took to the dance floor. The band played, “Yes we have no bananas,” and serenaded the pair, who boisterously waved their hands in the air.

  “God, I’m starving,” moaned Norman, who greedily swigged his champagne.

  Ross spoke up. “It will do you good, Norman. You can make up for it tomorrow.”

  Ben’s eyes made contact with Wells, who whispered to two huge gorilla-like men. They were clearly his hoods.

  Penelope seemed to enjoy herself as she frolicked with Frank Pollock. Ben’s mind went back to the previous night. Had he made love to a ghost? She was there in the flesh, dancing with her lover. Did that mean he was insane, or had he been sleepwalking? Her recent attitude towards him would suggest she had not visited his bedroom, but it seemed so real.

  The music ceased and Cindy rejoined the group. “Stanley Baldwin,” she enthused. “According to that charming man, the prime minister is Stanley Baldwin.”

  The group looked to each other for confirmation, and it was left for Ross to confirm it was correct. “He’s right. He took over from Ramsey Macdonald.”

  “Ross, for a bus driver you sure know a lot,” said Ben, whose eyes still followed the antics of Wells.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” asked Belinda Wells. “Daniel is so boring. The cad will not dance with me.”

  She was obviously drunk, her alluring eyes fixed on Danny. “You have the same name as my husband, do you not? I’ve heard your friends call you.”

  “That’s all that I do hope I have in common with him, if you don’t mind me saying. He sucks.”

  “He sucks? Whatever do you mean?”

  Danny’s eyes were now focused on Belinda’s ample cleavage. “I mean, what’s a doll like you doing with someone like him?”

  She sipped her champagne seductively. “I know what you mean. He is a trifle older than I am, but he treats me okay.”

  Danny continued. “You weren’t exactly typecast now, were you?”

  She frowned and stared provocatively into Danny’s eyes. She was obviously smitten by the young musician.

  “Come on, Danny, let’s dance,” barged in Cindy, who offered Belinda a hostile stare.

  Wells spotted his flirting wife and headed towards them purposely, his gorillas in tow.

  “What are you doing over here, Belinda? Second class doesn’t become you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “I was making new friends,” she slurred.

  “Come on back to the cabin. You’re drunk.”

  “I don’t want to go back yet. It’s far too early.”

  Wells seized his wife by the wrists and proceeded to drag her away. Danny intervened, grabbed Wells by the arm and separated it from Belinda.

  “And what do you think you’re doing, kid?” snarled Wells, whose eyes glared wildly.

  The two henchmen moved towards Danny, but Wells stopped them. “This is my wife, and that is your wife, understand? I gave you the benefit of the doubt earlier. I put it down to juvenile exuberance. You’ll not be so lucky next time.”

  “I’m not afraid of you, four-eyes. Don’t thr
eaten me.”

  Wells stroked his chin. “I hear you’re a musician. What instrument do you play?”

  “The guitar… why?”

  “Because, kid, you’ll have to find employment elsewhere. It will be most difficult to play the guitar with no fingers.”

  Danny felt a lump in his throat. The two hoods smirked at him.

  Wells turned to his wife. “Now, get your butt in our cabin, and I don’t want to catch you socialising with this scum again.”

  “Oh, but it’s perfectly okay for you to play cards with this scum.”

  Wells lashed out viciously and caught her a glancing blow. The punch knocked her off her feet, and her pleated skirt rode up her slender, long legs.

  Danny lunged for Wells, but was firmly held back by Ben and Ross.

  Belinda sobbed, struggled to her feet and ran past Wells. Wells smiled, the gap evident between his front teeth. He took the champagne from Danny’s hands and drained the glass. He retreated slowly, shadowed by the two giants.

  “Stay away from him, Danny. He’s trouble,” insisted Ross.

  “And now do you think that is acting?” asked Ben.

  He received no answer, and opened another bottle of champagne.

  Chapter Twelve

  The card session had passed without incident; a favourable contrast to the evening before. Ben had lost twenty pounds or so and Ross about the same. Davenport and Pollock were the two victors that evening, although their winnings were trivial. Wells had lost again; his card playing skills having deserted him once more.

  Ben’s mind was not on the cards that evening. No, here he was again, stood on the upper deck, looking out to sea. Not that there was much to see of course as the fog was still present. He anticipated another visit from the mysterious beauty. He was not to be disappointed. He watched her approach. She was dressed all in white and her shoulders were covered with a shawl.

  “Good evening, Penelope.”

  “Oh, it’s you. Good evening.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “I wish to apologise to you. Some of the things I said to you, well, they were completely out of character. Will you please forgive me?”

  She smiled and her white perfect teeth gleamed, even in the dismal gloom. “Yes, I forgive you. Besides, I rather look forward to our early morning conversations.”

  “Not as much as I do, Penelope. If only you could understand what I’m going through.”

  “Try me, Ben. I’m a very good listener.”

  “You promise you’ll hear me out? No matter how sinister it may sound.”

  “Fire away.”

  Ben began. “It happened following our last two meetings. The first morning, as I slept, you came to me. We made love on the bed. My wife, Natasha lay beside us. When she woke up you disappeared. Again, early this morning, you were standing naked at my door. You beckoned me over and we made love again. Natasha, again was roused from her sleep and once more you vanished into thin air. I was standing in an embarrassing predicament, if you get my meaning. My wife believes I was dreaming or sleep walking.”

  Penelope giggled before she composed herself. “How extraordinary. Did you relate to your wife that I was the object of your desire?”

  “Of course not. Do you understand why I had to ask you those questions this morning?”

  “Yes, I suppose it makes sense… What do you think, Ben? Do you believe it was a dream?”

  Ben realised the temptress was teasing him. “If it was, may I continue to dream forever. It seemed so damned real. I could even smell the same perfume you’re now wearing.”

  “So, what is your conclusion? What do you think?”

  “It had crossed my mind that you were a ghost, but you’re standing here, as real as I am.”

  Penelope’s features assumed a sterner visage. “You must erase me from your mind, Ben. It can only result in sorrow.”

  “You don’t understand, Penelope. It’s not like a childhood crush. I really think I may be falling in love with you.”

  “You do not even know me. Banish these foolish thoughts from your mind. Your wife is twice the woman I am. Bestow your love on her; she deserves it more than me.”

  Ben was adamant. He moved closer to the beauty. “You’re in my thoughts at all times, Penelope. I do love my wife, but I just can’t explain it.”

  “You’ve had a bad dream. Treat it as such… Goodbye, Ben.”

  Ben’s eyes watered when he watched her walk towards the bow of the ship. Ben followed slowly, and squinted to make out her delicate frame through the mist. He stopped suddenly, and unbelievably watched her climb over the railing.

  “No! Penelope!” Ben dashed to the bow to hear a loud splash. He climbed over the railing, before he realised his fear of water. “Penelope!” He screamed over and over again. He ran for a life-ring and tossed it into the sea. The cursed fog inhibited his vision. He turned, ran along the deck and screamed for help. A handful of people heard his alarm and had congregated on the deck, some dressed in nightclothes.

  First Officer Ingle approached and calmed him.

  “Sh-she’s jumped overboard,” stuttered Ben.

  “Calm down, sir. Who has jumped overboard?”

  “Penelope. Penelope Craven.”

  First Officer Ingle blew hard on his whistle and a handful of sailors appeared out of the gloom. Ben indicated where she had jumped in and Ingle leaned over and shone his torch into the murky depths. It was futile. There was not a sign of her.

  Ben was distraught. “Why? Why did she do it? She seemed so happy. Why?”

  “Come on, sir, there is nothing you could’ve done. It’s pointless searching in this fog. I’ll escort you to your cabin. Get some sleep, sir. Don’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could have done.”

  ******

  The rapping on the door interrupted his befuddled stupor. He rubbed his eyes and clambered out of bed, careful not to disturb Natasha. She was dead to the world.

  Davenport faced Ben, his manner not welcoming. It was a face etched in anger. “Ben, may I have a word with you please?”

  “Of course, Mr Davenport. Can we step outside? I don’t wish to wake Nat.”

  Ben stepped into the corridor and closed the door carefully.

  Davenport snarled. “It’s about the episode this morning. What on earth were you playing at?”

  Ben held his head and stroked his stubble. The nightmare had returned to him. “Oh, my god. Yes, Penelope.”

  “What on earth did you aim to achieve by such a prank?”

  “Prank? I’m not sure I understand. What are you saying?”

  Davenport continued. “What I’m saying is that Penelope Craven is tucked up in bed. She did not take very kindly to being disturbed in the early hours of the morning, and to be quite frank, I can hardly blame her.”

  A bemused smile appeared on the face of Ben. “She’s safe? Impossible. I saw her jump over the side. I heard her as she hit the water.”

  “You saw nothing of the kind, Ben. Penelope admitted she talked to you this morning, but she’s as perplexed as the rest of us as to why you would invent such twaddle.”

  “I know what I saw and heard, Davenport. Penelope Craven is playing games with me. She’s been coming to my room in the early hours. We’ve been making love.”

  “No!” screamed Natasha. She had heard the talking and now stood behind Ben. Her hands covered her trembling lips.

  “Nat. It’s not what you think. Those two mornings you woke up, I was dreaming. That’s all. It was a dream.”

  “I heard you, Ben. I heard you.”

  “Nat, listen, maybe I’m going mad, I just don’t know anymore. I know it was impossible for me to have made love to her. You never saw her. Only I saw her.”

  Natasha wept. “But you intended to. You were going through the motions. You could have stopped at any time, you bastard.”

  “Nat, I’ve never been unfaithful to you, I swear. This girl; there’s something about her, like she has a hold on me. I know w
hat I saw. She’s not of this world, I’m sure of it.”

  Davenport intervened. “I think, Ben that you should rest. A couple of days in the sick bay may be a good option.”

  “No! I’m not sick, Davenport. It is you and your passengers that are sick. You’re taking this charade too far.”

  “I’m sorry you feel this way. Heed my words and get some rest. It will do you a world of good.”

  Davenport departed and Ben sat at the foot of the bed. “Nat, do you believe I’m going mad?”

  “I don’t know what to think. This cruise was not such a good idea after all. You need some rest, Ben. You must stay away from that woman. She is evil.”

  ******

  Captain Perkins and Davenport stood on the deck and stared into the fog. There had been no change in the weather. It was as dense as ever.

  “I’ve never in all my years at sea ever experienced anything like this. The fog should have lifted by now,” moaned Captain Perkins.

  “What do you propose that we do, Bill? The passengers are starting to grow hungry?”

  “I suggest we set sail. The radio will not work, but we can navigate our way towards Turkey, our next destination. Once we find some clear weather, we can make full speed.”

  “Can the radio be repaired, Bill?” asked Davenport.

  “To be quite honest, our engineers cannot find any fault with it. They’ve worked on it for hours, but to no avail.”

  “What are our options? We can wait here for the fog to lift, which could be minutes or hours. We could launch the lifeboats and head for Limassol. Or the third option, head for Turkey. My inclination is to stay with the ship. This fog must lift soon. We’ll give it until noon, and if we must set sail, then so be it.”

  Captain Perkins lit up his pipe. “The passengers are becoming restless, James. Couldn’t they eat the tinned goods?”

  “I’ll give it my full consideration if the worst comes to the worst. In the meantime, I have several cases of champagne left. Let them enjoy themselves. The champagne will help to lighten their burden.”