The Cruise
Page 14
“Damn you, Ingle, ask my companions. We can’t all be insane.”
Ingle ignored the request and continued with his search. “Would you please leave my bridge? We’ve more urgent matters to see to.”
“What year is this?” quizzed Ben.
“What a strange question. What year do you think it is?”
“2001.”
A smile adorned the craggy features of Ingle. “Able Seaman Baxter, please remove this gentleman from my bridge.”
Ben shrugged the sailor aside. “Enough is enough, Ingle. This has gone too far. Davenport is insane, don’t you see? Those people in there, they’re really dying.”
Ben was escorted off the bridge by two burly sailors. Either Ingle was still carrying out the pretence, or they really had stepped back in time.
******
The group sat on the deck and hoped to hear the welcome cry of ship ahoy! The cry never came. They sat in the shade and watched the minor scuffles on the upper deck. Some of the passengers even lowered buckets on long ropes into the sea.
Ben watched helplessly as they drank the seawater, and wrestled with each other for a mouthful. That they were killing themselves was irrelevant, as nobody seemed to care. It was now a case of every man for himself. The thirsty passengers vomited and brought the seawater back up, before they went back for another sip. The salty water made them thirsty and delirious.
Natasha tried to approach the group and had to be held back by Ben and Joe.
“No, Nat, it is seawater. It’ll make you ill.”
Ben gave the remainder of the rum to Natasha, who drank greedily.
“Well, that’s the last of it. Come on, Joe, we must find Davenport.”
“Davenport? I thought he went over the side.”
Ben confided in his friend. “I saw him this morning. He’s still aboard this ship and I’m sure he’ll have food and drink. He looked healthy when I saw him.”
The two weak and weary men began their search of the lower deck, whilst Ross and Danny explored the upper deck. Ben had told Cheryl and Sarah to keep Natasha from going near to the seawater.
Ben and Joe encountered similar distressing scenes on the lower deck. People sat on the deck and waited to die. Old couples huddled together and young people were in tears. The two men continued their search indoors; tried the doors and checked each room, but to no avail. Three hours had passed and they returned to the upper deck. Ben looked out to sea. Nothing. No ships and no land. How was this possible?
“It looks like you were mistaken. Davenport is definitely not aboard this ship.”
“Maybe I’m going insane, Ross. Did you search everywhere?”
“We checked every cabin and room.”
Their eyes were attracted to a tall figure in black, who approached them.
Bates, Davenport’s butler stood before them. He did not appear to be under-nourished. “Mr Davenport requests the presence of you and your wives in the Gemini Suite.”
******
The bemused group, after they notified the Quinns, followed the strange butler to the lavish room. They evidently were not the only ones to receive an invitation. Jeremy Grainger, Lady Braithwaite, Frank Pollock, and the luscious Penelope sat at one side of the table. Dr Waverley, Father Rattigan, and the evil Daniel Wells, along with his wife Belinda sat at the other side. Bates indicated for the group to sit. The lights were low. An eerie silence was present as each of the group studied one another.
The door opened and Davenport entered. A large cigar smouldered between his fingers. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve summoned you all to the Gemini Suite. All will be revealed shortly... I’m sure you’re all acquainted with each other by now, so I’ll skip the introductions.”
Wells led the questioning. “What’s this all about, Davenport? We’re starving, but you look as though you’ve just dined at the Ritz?”
“Be patient, Mr Wells. As I’ve already told you, all will be explained. What has happened here aboard my ship has been most unfortunate. I’ve watched from a distance the paltry squabbling and murderous intent. You people here however have behaved impeccably, so I’m going to reward you.”
“Impeccably? What about Wells?”
“Yes, Mr Cooper, it was rather unfortunate what Daniel has done to your fingers. He can be such a bully at times.”
“Bully? He’s a fucking psychopath.”
Language, language…Nevertheless, Mr Wells is an associate of mine, and I look after my close friends, which you group of people certainly are.”
“Get to the point, Davenport,” demanded Grainger. “Do you have food and drink or not?”
“Patience. You’ll be fed in time. We’ll wait until nightfall. Bates here will bring you nourishment.”
Ben was suspicious. “There’s something doesn’t ring true here, Davenport. You say we are your close friends, but we hardly know you.”
“Ah, Mr Duncan. Doubting Duncan. You work in my shipyard and I consider you to be a treasured friend.”
Ben rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. What was Davenport playing at?
“You’ll remain here. I’ll return at nightfall with the food and drink.”
Joe blocked his path and protested. “Wait a minute, Davenport! What about Ingle and his crew; not forgetting the other passengers on board. Surely you must feed them.”
“There is enough food to keep the people present in this room alive for perhaps another three or four days. Besides, Ingle turned his guns on my passengers.”
“This doesn’t seem right. It’s bloody immoral,” moaned Ben.
“Immoral? What is immoral? Is it immoral to shoot innocent people in cold blood? No, Mr Duncan, I’m giving you a chance to live… to survive. A lifeline; take it or leave it.”
With that, Davenport exited the room and left a perplexed collection of people to consider his offer.
******
Ben, no matter how much he tried, could not fail to make eye contact with Penelope. She still looked stunning, even under these extreme circumstances.
“How much longer must we wait?” groaned Wells.
“Mr Davenport was adamant that we wait here until nightfall,” said Father Rattigan.
The loud blaring of a siren startled the group.
“What the hell is that?” asked Cheryl.
“That, madam is the fire alarm,” interrupted Grainger, his red beard now a tangled mess.
“A fire! We have to get out of here,” gasped Norman.
“It’s locked! The bloody doors locked,” screamed Pollock, who wrestled with the door handle.
“Let me see,” insisted Dr Waverley. “He’s right. We’re locked in. Davenport will come for us… he has to”
Ben sighed. “I wouldn’t put your mortgage on it.”
The group gazed through the portholes to see the chaotic scenes on the deck. Through the diminishing light, they could make out the frantic passengers lowering the lifeboats, assisted by the crewmen. The passengers moved slowly, and some never even attempted to board the lifeboats; others man-hauled in by the crew. Ben could see Jackson screaming orders to lower the lifeboats. People squabbled and fought to get into the boats, some thrown into the sea.
“We must break these windows,” yelled Ross. He picked up a heavy stool and slammed it against the porthole, but it had no effect. They were reinforced. He tried again.
“Forget it, Ross. Save your strength. You won’t break that glass,” insisted Ben.
Lady Braithwaite uttered. “They must know we’re here. They won’t leave without us, surely.”
Wells pounded the door and tried to make himself heard above the din of the fire alarm. “It’s no good. These doors are solid. Dynamite wouldn’t shift them.”
The desperate group watched as the ship was abandoned. They were alone on a burning ship. They sat and awaited their destiny. Wendy whimpered, her head cradled on her husband’s lap. They watched the lifeboats, until they were dots o
n the horizon.
The rattling of keys could be heard outside the door.
“He’s come back. Davenport has returned,” was the cry from Pollock.
The door opened and the sombre looking Bates greeted them. He pointed towards the corridor and the curious band exited the room. Outside was a crate of champagne. Wells ripped open the packaging and fumbled for a bottle.
“Wait, Wells!” shouted Ben. “We should drink it sparingly. We don’t know how long it’ll have to last.”
The welcome champagne was distributed amongst them. The joyous group savoured the refreshing liquid, and laughed like they had never laughed before. Never had a drink tasted so good. Ben counted the bottles after he opened one for his frail wife. There were twenty-four bottles, and there were eighteen of them, excluding Davenport and Bates.
“Where is Davenport, and how bad is the fire?”
“I will answer that, Mr Duncan.” Davenport appeared at the doorway. “There is no fire. I had to find a way to remove the other passengers from the ship, and so I invented the fire.”
Ben responded. “Hang on, Davenport; Ingle is no fool. He would not abandon ship on your say so; not without seeing the fire for himself.”
“Mr Ingle is, how can I put it? He was not there to make the decision.”
Ben pointed his finger at the ship owner. “You killed him, didn’t you, Davenport?”
“Not me. My faithful manservant. Besides, they never took much persuading to abandon ship once Ingle was disposed of. I sort of assumed command.”
“You murdering bastard!”
“Mr Duncan, please see it my way. Ingle himself was guilty of killing those poor passengers. Bates simply carried out an execution, which I’m sure would have happened anyway once we landed ashore.”
“Why, Davenport? Why go to all of this trouble?” asked Ross.
“To survive, Mr Harper. To survive.”
Ben pondered deeply. “Something’s not right here. They would have died of starvation anyway, and you had all of this champagne, and food too probably. You would have survived with or without them on board. Also, didn’t you say you were dying? No, Davenport, this doesn’t add up.”
“Mr Duncan, always the sceptic. When I said to survive, I was referring to your survival. You see, my wish was to sail this final voyage with my closest friends. You have fulfilled your part of the bargain, and now I’m rewarding you.”
Joe slammed his hand down on the table. “But we aren’t your fucking friends, Davenport. We hardly know you.”
Davenport frowned. “Mr Cummings, remember the conditions. They still apply. I absolutely forbid such crude language.”
Joe scratched his head. “Conditions? In case you’ve missed something here, we’re dying. We’re in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, no food, and very little drink. We’re a floating graveyard.”
“Did I say there was no food? I’ll return in one hour with food. Be patient, my friends.”
Davenport left with Bates in tow.
“This is strange. Fucking weird, man,” said Joe.
******
Ben followed the mysterious master and servant, careful to keep a respectable distance behind them. He did not trust Davenport; after all, why did he not just lead them to the food. The pair went past the Garden Lounge and the dining room. They passed the Grand Stateroom and the Ballroom, before they turned into an alcove.
Ben halted and listened. A door was opened. He heard the hinges squeak as he stretched his neck around the corner. The door slammed shut and Ben placed his ear against the door. Funny, he thought. He had not noticed this room before, especially during their previous search. Ben decided to face Davenport and see what luxuries he really had stashed away.
He opened the door slowly and entered the room. The first thing he noticed was how cold it was. His breath was visible. It was if he was in a cold storage room, but this definitely was not a cold storage room.
The room was dimly lit. An old gas lamp stood on the lush polished table. Portraits that resembled Davenport adorned the pink walls. Ben froze. A piano could be heard playing. He screwed up his eyes and looked towards the Grand piano that was close to the fireplace. Ben could hear the music, but nobody was at the piano. He felt a lump in his throat when he advanced towards the strange music. It stopped as suddenly as it had started. He felt the goose bumps on his body. His condition had nothing to do with the cold.
This cannot be happening, he thought. There was no doubt that Davenport had entered this room. He had disappeared into thin air. Ben remembered Penelope. Was the ship haunted? Ben felt his heartbeat accelerate. His attention was drawn towards the red velvet drapes, which covered the porthole. He was certain he could hear noises. Hesitantly, he pulled the drapes aside, peered through the porthole and fought for breath. The sight that befell him was not of this world. Even though it was evening, the sun shone brightly. Passengers in all their gaiety paraded up and down the deck. The colourful parasols twirled as they ambled in the sunshine. Ben held his head. Was he going insane?
His eyes rested on the unmistakable beauty who strolled towards the bow. Penelope, clad in a green dress now walked intently and brushed people aside, until she reached her destination. She climbed over the railings and Ben felt his eyes fill up with tears.
“No, Penelope, no,” he whimpered. “Can’t anyone see her? Somebody help her.”
Penelope jumped and Ben clutched at the drapes. He fell to his knees. “This is not real. I am not insane.”
He clambered to his feet to see darkness. The people on the deck were no more. He thought about the arsenic. There must be a connection to these hallucinations. What about Davenport? He had followed him to this room, and there was no way that he could have left without being seen.
Ben decided to return to the others. He felt it best to keep to himself what he had witnessed. The room was real enough though. He searched the room before he left. There was no food or drink to be found. As Ben closed the door, he was certain he could hear laughter coming from inside. He hurried on his way.
Chapter Twenty Two
The following morning, the group had made their way to the deck. As they had feared, all of the lifeboats had been launched. Davenport thought it was best to have a couple of men on the bridge at all times. Dr Waverley and Father Rattigan had volunteered the first watch. It was a fine, clear day, and if a ship was spotted, it was decided to discharge the distress flares.
Moral was now at an all time low. Davenport had not returned with food as he had promised. It was decided that the remaining men split into four groups of two and search the ship for their host. Time was not on their side. They could not survive much longer without food. The women seemed to suffer more than the men, especially Natasha and Wendy. This was now their ninth full day since they had eaten a proper meal. They were at a desperate stage. They had to find Davenport or his food supply. The champagne had refreshed them, but it would not last for much longer.
Ben walked ahead of Joe, for he needed to check out the strange room again.
“Whoa, Ben, slow down.”
“I have to show you something, Joe; if not for my sanity.”
They turned into the alcove and Ben gasped. He faced a wall.
“No! This cannot be happening. There was a room here last night.” He tapped the wall, but it was solid.
Joe confronted his companion. “There’s never been a room here. If there was, we would’ve remembered it.”
Ben disagreed. “That was my initial thought, Joe, but there was a fucking room here last night, I tell you. I followed Davenport and his sidekick here. There was a room with a large piano.”
“Come on, we’ll look elsewhere,” suggested Joe.
Ben seized his companion by the arm. “Listen, I know how this must sound, but you have to believe me. I think Davenport and Penelope are ghosts. I saw her jump overboard again last night, only it wasn’t night at all.”
Joe gazed at his friend in a strange manner.
“Forget it, Ben. If we don’t find food soon, then Davenport won’t matter.”
******
The group congregated on the deck, after their search proved fruitless. They sat in the shade, each one now forlorn and awaiting the inevitable death. Ben placed a caring arm around his sad wife. She was dying before his eyes and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it.
Ben studied the group. “Where are Ross and Danny?”
“They’re on the lower deck, trying to catch fish,” croaked a fragile Cindy.
Ben looked towards Wells, who was sat with his arm around Belinda. The gangster stared back at him, and grinned like a Cheshire cat. Pollock was also grinning, a wild stare, as if he was insane.
Ben ignored the leers. “Come on, Joe. It’s time to relieve the doctor and Father Rattigan.”
The two weak and weary men climbed the steps to the bridge. There was no sign of the two men. “Dr Waverley! Father Rattigan!” yelled Ben.
There was no answer. They had a quick scan of the horizon, before they returned to the lower deck.
“Has anyone seen Dr Waverley or Father Rattigan?”
“No,” answered Norman. “They’re on the bridge.”
“Apparently not. They must have passed here.”
“No, Ben. We would have seen them.”
Ben licked his dry lips. “Shit. This is getting weird. Where are the others?”
“They went to help Ross and Danny.”
Ben and Joe made their way to the lower deck and joined the two hopeful fishermen.
“Any luck, Ross?”
“No not a thing. I think we’re wasting our time.”
“Where’s Wells and company?”
“On the upper deck,” responded Ross.
Ben stroked his gaunt face. “Ghosts. We’re on a fucking ghost ship!”