The Cruise

by Anthony Hulse

  Chapter Thirteen

  Norman and Wendy Quinn reached the galley at about breakfast time.

  Simon Holt, still dressed in his white chefs outfit was slouched on his chair, swigging from a whisky bottle, his feet rested on the table. He smiled at the overweight pair and raised his bottle to them. “Good morning. Do come and join me,” he slurred. He had clearly been drinking heavily.

  “I thought we were allowed to only drink champagne?” quizzed Norman, his boater slanted across his head.

  Holt groaned. “We can drink anything we desire. Davenport is an old fool… Here, have this bottle of wine on the house.” He threw the bottle of claret to Norman, who only just managed to grasp it.

  “I don’t know. Mr Davenport...”

  “Davenport, Davenport, Davenport. That’s all I hear. He knows nothing. The food is edible and the drinks are drinkable. There is no poison.”

  “What about all those sick people?” asked Norman.

  “They brought it on themselves. Their illness had absolutely nothing to do with my galley.” Holt picked up a chicken leg and nibbled at it. “See, delicious. Help yourself.”

  Norman looked at his wife, who in turn licked her lips. She nodded and they approached the plate of chicken legs. Norman rolled one of the legs in his hand and sniffed at it. He took a bite and chewed. Wendy waited for a reaction, but there was none. She bit into the meat and savoured the fleshy bird. Before long, they had joined Holt at his table, and they ate their way through the chicken and sipped the claret.

  They never heard Davenport enter the galley. “What is this? You deliberately ignored my orders not to eat the food.”

  Wendy dropped the chicken leg and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “But, Mr Davenport, it’s perfectly edible. In fact, it’s delicious.”

  “That may be, Mrs Quinn, but the arsenic may take a little time to react. It depends on the dosage.”

  “That’s crap and you know it, Davenport. The food is perfectly edible,” growled Holt, as he swallowed a mouthful of whiskey.

  “And you, sir are drunk! What compelled me to hire you I do not know? Your former employers must have been blindfolded. You’re unprofessional and incompetent in your trade. ”

  Holt objected. “You hired me because I’m the finest chef in England. You just don’t appreciate good cooking.”

  Davenport smirked. “Fourteen people will disagree with you there, Holt. They’re now on their death beds.”

  “Don’t you accuse me, you bastard! Remember your own sins.”

  “What do you mean by that remark? I demand an answer?”

  Holt was not about to back down. “You demand shit, Davenport. You know what I’m talking about.”

  “By the way, Holt, it goes without saying, but you’re fired.”

  “No, I’m not. I resign!”

  Davenport turned towards the watching couple. “Mr and Mrs Quinn, you will kindly leave the galley and leave this drunken oaf to stew in his own juices.”

  They obeyed, left the galley and ignored the obscenities of the drunken chef.

  ******

  The Grand Stateroom was bustling, with the merry passengers waiting for Davenport’s expected speech. The liberal intake of champagne had numbed the seriousness of the situation. Ben had recovered from his trauma with Penelope and now waited eagerly for Davenport's words. Natasha was cold towards him. Penelope had intruded into their lives, a nightmare that would not go away. Ben had decided to erase Penelope from his memory. Never again would he mention her, he had promised Natasha, but the damage had been done. Natasha would always wonder if her husband was fantasising about Penelope whenever they made love.

  Davenport, looking as immaculate as ever addressed his audience. Standing below the magnificent chandeliers and flanked by marble pillars, he could have been an Emperor of ancient Rome. “Ladies and gentlemen. As most of you will no doubt be already aware, the fog has not lifted as we had predicted. The radio is out of action, and so we have decided to sail to Kusadasi in Turkey as originally intended. We gave much thought to our decision. We believe it to be the correct option. We could have waited for the fog to lift, but there is no sign of it abating. We should arrive in Turkey sometime tomorrow, given that we will encounter some clear weather. I understand you are all sick to the stomach with the champagne, so wine is added to the liquid refreshment. The wine has been cleared by some of the passengers, who shall remain nameless.”

  “What about food?” yelled a man who wore a monacle.

  “I was just coming to that. We believe that the meat was probably the infected foodstuff. The tinned food should be edible. The chefs are preparing a meal, and anybody wishing to partake, can make their way to the dining room at one' o'clock.”

  A chorus of approval echoed around the room.

  “How can you be sure it was the meat that was poisoned?” shouted another man.

  “I cannot. If it was indeed the meat that contained the arsenic, then the tinned food should be edible. Thank you for your patience. There is no reason why you cannot relax and enjoy the remainder of the cruise. Tomorrow, we will have a feast fit for a king. That I promise.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The hungry diners watched as the waiters served lunch. It was a meagre meal, compared to the superb feasts they had become accustomed to. Tinned sardines and sweet corn was followed by fruit salad. Everyone waited with apprehension for someone to take the first mouthful. Captain Perkins led by example, followed by Norman and Wendy Quinn. After they had swallowed without pain, the other diners ate warily and chewed slowly, as if it made any difference.

  The carnage that followed minutes later was horrendous. People clutched their throats and stomachs, and collapsed to the ground. Ben watched with horror, as one by one, they fell victim to the unforgiving arsenic.

  Norman and Wendy Quinn poured champagne down their throats frantically, in an attempt to wash away the poison. However, they appeared not to have been affected by the arsenic.

  Dr Waverley and his medics worked swiftly, and tried to ease the pain of the stricken ones. Captain Perkins was one of the victims. A pool of vomit lay by his lifeless head. One of the medics shook his head in resignation and turned to another patient.

  Ben calculated that there were at least twenty people struck down. Norman and Wendy Quinn hugged each other and thanked God that they were spared. Davenport helped comfort the victims, some of them who had no hope. The relentless sound of vomiting could be heard around the dining room. The stench of vomit and human waste was repulsive.

  Ben worried about his wife. “Nat, did you eat anything?”

  “No. I was still waiting to be served.”

  “Me too. Christ, that could just as easily have been us.”

  Ben checked on his other companions. Ross, Cheryl, Norman, and Wendy had all consumed some of the food, but so far were unaffected. He watched Davenport and First Officer Ingle dash to the galley and decided to follow. Joe and Ross caught him up. The sight that befell them as they entered the galley was one of confusion. Davenport had Holt pinned to the wall. The drunken chef seemed impervious to the assault and just laughed loudly.

  “Where are the tins that this food came from?” demanded Ingle.

  An elderly chef pointed to the bin.

  First Officer Ingle fished around for a tin and sniffed it. He checked the tin to ensure it had not been tampered with and noticed two small holes on the bottom. “Here! Mr Davenport.”

  Davenport examined the sardine tin, before he returned to confront Holt. “It was you, wasn’t it? You did this.”

  Simon Holt continued to giggle when Davenport’s face reddened.

  “Speak up, man. Was it you?”

  Holt steadied himself. “You don’t even recognise me, do you? You pompous old bastard, you don’t know who I am.”

  “I know you?”

  Holt’s eyes glazed over and his face assumed a more serious look. “Simon Bell. Now do you remember? Come on, Davenport, have I changed
that much?”

  “Bell… Simon Bell!”

  “That’s right. The last time you saw me was in a courtroom. You murdering bastard. You murdered my wife and child. You murdered them and you got off with it.”

  Davenport settled down on a stool. “It was an accident. We didn’t see them.”

  “You saw them all right. You rammed our yacht and murdered them. You were looking straight at us. You couldn’t stop, could you? You had a tight schedule to keep.”

  “That’s not true. I did not see the yacht.”

  Holt was adamant. “Even after realising what you had done, you couldn’t even stop. They may have survived, if only you had stopped.”

  “I was cleared of any criminal act by the court. Why could you not accept this?”

  “You bought that jury. You and your dirty blood money.”

  Davenport bowed his head. “In case it escaped your attention, I was not steering the ship.”

  “No, your friend Captain Perkins took that responsibility, but you saw us, Davenport. You looked into my eyes, and then looked away when we capsized.”

  Davenport left his stool and faced his accuser. “Why poison the food, Bell? All those innocent people you’ve murdered? Why?”

  “Because, I want you to suffer, as I suffered. No, you have no pity for mankind. You’ll not shed a tear for any of these people. You’ll be disgraced. You will lose your dignity and your shipyard will close down. Nobody will want to sail with you again. I’ll receive more publicity now than I did at the trial. My wife and child will be avenged.”

  “Wait a minute,” butted in First Officer Ingle. “Why isn’t everyone affected by the poison?”

  Holt grinned. “Because, only half of the food has been poisoned. Do you know how easy it is to obtain arsenic nowadays?”

  “Why did you not kill me, Bell?” asked Davenport.

  “Let’s just say that you were lucky. Obviously, you never ate the infected food. Besides, it turned out rather well, didn’t it?”

  “Listen, Bell,” ordered First Officer Ingle. “How can we tell which of the food is poisoned? There is no need for any more people to die.”

  “That’s just it, you can’t tell. I poisoned the food at random. You’ll find that all of the tins will have holes in them. I wasn’t going to make it easy for you.”

  “What about the drinks?” quizzed Ingle.

  “The alcohol is safe, but I wouldn’t drink the water if I were you.”

  “Take him away and lock him up,” demanded Davenport.

  Bell shook his fist at Davenport, and the spittle hung from his lips. “What is the name of my wife and child, Davenport?”

  “Take him away,” ordered the ship owner.

  “Laura and Peter, you scum! Peter was five-year-old,” sobbed the chef, as he was dragged away by two seamen.

  “Get him out of here now, and may you rot in hell, Simon Bell,” bellowed Davenport.

  “When did this happen, Davenport?” asked Ben, who had heard every word. He was still unsure whether this was all an act. The poisoned passengers certainly appeared to be in agony, but they could have been acting.

  “Two years ago. It was an accident, I tell you.”

  Ben pondered. “I don’t remember reading about it in the newspapers.”

  “1923, you imbecile. It happened in 1923.”

  Davenport tried to barge past Ben, but was obstructed.

  “What the fuck is going on, Davenport? You see, my head is in pieces at the moment. Are we still playing movie stars or what? My friends and I are sort of wondering if we are in any danger. Is the food really poisoned or is this make-believe?”

  Davenport sighed heavily. “Work it out for yourself, Ben. Help yourself to a sardine if that will make you feel better.” The ship owner left them to their thoughts. He had a heavy burden to carry.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Empress Medina had sailed all through the night. Her foghorn blasted every couple of minutes, which ensured that the passengers sleep was limited. There was no card school that night. Davenport decided it would not be appropriate, given the tragedy that had occurred. The mysterious fog appeared to travel with them. Some of the sailors were superstitious and believed the ship to be damned.

  First Officer Ingle had taken command of the ship after the demise of Captain Perkins. Confusion was rife on the bridge. Able Seaman Baxter had called for Ingle.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the compass, sir.”

  “What about the compass?”

  “Take a look, sir.”

  First Officer Ingle leaned over and appeared bewildered. The compass point spun sporadically. “What can possibly be causing this?”

  “We don’t know, sir. It started spinning and so we called for you.”

  Ingle peered into the fog. “Where exactly are we? Show me on the chart?”

  Able Seaman Baxter seemed bemused. “We aren’t sure, sir. We believe the compass has been malfunctioning for some time.”

  “What is this madness? No radio, no compass and this damn fog. You must have some idea where we are, Baxter.”

  “Somewhere between Cyprus and Turkey. If the compass has been reading correctly prior to the malfunction, then we should be two or three miles off the Turkish coast.”

  First Officer Ingle made his decision. “Stop all engines. Do you understand? We cannot sail blind. It’s far too dangerous.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Our hands are tied, gentlemen. We now have no choice but to wait for the fog to lift.”

  ******

  “Excuse me. Have you a light?”

  The voice came from the entrance to the Old English Inn. Danny was passing on his way to the deck for some fresh air. He peered into the dim room to see Belinda Wells, a glass of red wine in her hand. He sat beside her and lit her cigarette. She blew the smoke out and swallowed another mouthful of her wine.

  “Hey, isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?” asked Danny.

  Belinda turned her head, and her eyes were seemingly heavy. “I drink to forget. Anyway, what time is it?”

  “Seven-fifteen. Haven’t you been to bed?”

  “Of course I’ve been to bed. I sneaked down here just as soon as he fell asleep.”

  She took another deep draw on her cigarette and Danny noticed her bruised eye.

  “Did he do that?”

  “Oh, this. It’s nothing. You want to see him when he’s really angry.”

  “Why don’t you leave him?”

  Belinda refilled her glass. “He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you as well if he catches you chatting me up.”

  “I’m not chatting you up. It was you who…”

  The teasing woman cocked her head back and laughed. “I’m pulling your leg, Danny boy.”

  Danny ensured they were alone before he put his next question to Belinda. “Listen, level with me. What’s going on here?”

  She savoured her wine and licked her lips provocatively. “I can’t leave him. Don’t you understand?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. What’s going on here… aboard this ship?”

  Belinda shrugged. “All I know is it’s all fucked up.”

  “Who are you?”

  The intoxicated woman inhaled pensively on her cigarette. “Belinda Wells. You know who…”

  “No! I mean who are you really? Not your character name?”

  She looked at him curiously. “Danny boy. Danny, go away before he finds you here.”

  “Davenport cannot watch everyone. Don’t you understand? This has gone too far. If this is all part of the charade, then he has one wicked sense of humour.”

  Belinda frowned. “Danny, are you talking in riddles or am I more drunk than I think I am?”

  “Still loyal to Davenport, even when pissed,” moaned Danny. “He must be paying you well.”

  Belinda stared curiously at Danny. “Whatever.”

  Danny hesitated before he put his next proposal to the pretty girl. “Wh
en this is all over, can I give you a call?”

  She placed her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Danny, you’re a married man. You‘ve been married a few months and …”

  “How did you know that? I never told you how long we’ve been married…Anyway, Cindy and me have what you might call an open marriage.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I mean, we both fuck around with each other’s approval.”

  Belinda blushed “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m serious, Belinda.”

  Belinda pushed her admirer. “Get out of here, Danny. Go before it’s too late.”

  “As long as you let me ring you up after this cruise is over.”

  Belinda looked around nervously. “Okay, we have a deal. You must go now.”

  Danny ignored her request. “Where do you live?”

  “London. And you?”

  “London. Where in London?”

  “Chelsea. How about you. Where do you live?”

  “Ealing.”

  Belinda raised her wine glass. “My husband has a club in Chelsea. The Jinx Club. Do you know it?”

  “I've never heard of it.”

  “Louise Armstrong once played there. Have you heard of him? He’s a new musician, but he’s going to be big one day.”

  Danny laughed and took a drink from her glass. “Don’t you ever stop playing games?”

  “You’re a strange one, Danny. Now go before it is too late.”

  He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. As he turned around, he was hit flush in the jaw by one of her husband’s bodyguards. Danny opened his eyes and the large, bald headed man pulled him to his feet.

  “Shut the door, Leo,” demanded Wells, who cleaned his spectacles.

  His other man mountain slammed the door and was now stood with his back to it.

  Wells grimaced. “You’ll not listen, will you? You just will not listen… Leo, Greg, hold him.”

  The two giants held Danny by the arms.