Ben ignored the question. “I know what happened, Davenport. I read my great-grandfather’s diary.”
“Of course you did. I intended you to read it… Time is running out, so I sort of gave you a helping hand.”
“What do you mean, time is running out?”
Davenport puffed on his cigar and gazed at his guest. The ship owner looked younger than ever. “Do you know what day it is tomorrow, Duncan?”
“Should I?”
“Tomorrow is the 28th June… Time to abandon ship.”
Ben pondered. “You stated that the Empress of Medina was found on the 29th June.”
“That is correct, but the ship was abandoned on the 28th June.”
“What exactly happened in 1925?”
Davenport continued to observe the ghostly dancers. “You know what happened,” he said, as he applauded the dancing couple once more.
Ben was now impatient. “I don’t know all of what happened. Okay, I presume that Simon Holt really did poison the food, right?”
“That is correct. Wells really did murder him in their cell.”
“But, how and why did you get the majority of passengers and crew off the ship?”
Davenport scowled. “I’m disappointed, Duncan. How? You know how. After the death of Ingle, I assumed command and set off the fire alarm. I ordered the ship to be abandoned. Why? I always believed we would be rescued. I had a secret supply of food and drink, but not enough to go around all of the passengers. I’m a resourceful gentleman, Mr Duncan, but even I cannot perform such a biblical miracle.”
“So you sent those poor wretches to their deaths?”
“They had a fighting chance,” insisted Davenport, who raised his voice. “You see, each lifeboat was manned by experienced sailors, and they were given rations, no matter how meagre.”
“So what did become of them?” asked Ben.
Davenport shrugged his shoulders. “I know as much as you about that. The probability is that they drowned. Reports into the aftermath of the Empress Medina were false. It was reported that the waters were calm, but I know differently.”
“And the mysterious fog? When you recreated your adventure, how did you know there would be fog?”
“Ah, yes the fog. The fog was real enough, apart from when we visited Naples and Iraklion. You see, I had to ensure that the ship was not seen by anyone but you and your fellow passengers.”
Ben was inquisitive. “How did you do it, Davenport?”
“The fog? There are many things you do not understand, Duncan.”
“So, my great-grandfather plotted to kill you for food.”
“Yes, and then they continued their carnage, killing the other passengers one by one. Then Duncan realised his predicament. They had built a raft and had made plans to leave my ship. Eventually, the only survivors left on the ship were Duncan, Cooper, Cummings and myself. Your great-grandfather and his comrades had slaughtered the remaining passengers in order to conceal the carnage that had taken place. They were butchered and used for food, before the murderers made to sea on their raft.”
Ben was bewildered. “So what happened to their wives?”
“Two of them refused to eat human flesh and died, including the wife of your great-grandfather. The wife of Cooper was found murdered aboard the ship. She had unfortunately been raped. The wife of Cummings was never found. It is believed that she jumped overboard. Harper and his wife unfortunately hanged themselves.
“What happened to David Duncan and Cooper?” quizzed Ben.
“I’m not sure, dear boy. You see, they intended to slaughter me for food, but I evaded them and hid, shortly before they abandoned the ship. The Empress Medina is vast and there are many hiding places. I’m pretty sure that they did not reach England, unless of course they changed their identities.”
“What about you, Davenport? How did you come back?”
“We have never been away. The Empress Medina has sailed the Mediterranean Sea since 1925; the occupants unable to rest in peace until their deaths are avenged.”
Ben was unsatisfied. “But the ship was found abandoned in 1925. You said so yourself.”
“Indeed it was, and like I’ve already said, there are many hiding places aboard the Empress Medina. This ship is eternal, Duncan. We sail the ocean until justice is done.”
But why us, Davenport? Why not the generations before us. Why wait until now?”
“Everything had to be perfect, Duncan. Quinn’s grandmother died shortly after her marriage. Harper’s mother also died shortly after her marriage. Their husbands never remarried. This is the first opportunity we’ve had to exact our revenge. You see, the five of you have wives, just as your murderous ancestors who sailed on my ship had wives. Everything had to be the same.”
Ben was still curious. “What about the diary? Didn’t my great-grandfather take it with him?”
“Yes, he took it with him, probably to the bottom of the sea.”
“But, I read it in the library.”
“You read it, yes you did. David Duncan spent a lot of time in the library compiling the diary. You merely saw the diary where it once lay in 1925.”
“This is madness, Davenport. We had nothing to do with the tragic events that befell your ship in 1925.”
Davenport smiled, his cigar clamped between his immaculate teeth. “I tested you. You’ve behaved no differently from your ancestor.”
Ben returned the smile. “Hold on. We never murdered anyone. The body of Wendy we ate was already dead.”
“Do you think so? Wendy was still alive when you decided to consume her body.”
Perspiration now streamed down the face of Ben. “That’s impossible. I helped hold her down when Ross cut her up. She was definitely dead.”
The lively music continued and invited the ghosts of Joe and Sarah to continue their dancing. Their rhythm increased as they waltzed across the dance floor.
Davenport seemed content, and attempted to shock his guest with his answers. “You left Ross alone for a few minutes with Wendy, didn’t you? She woke up, Duncan. She woke up and Ross strangled her.”
“No! He would never do such a thing.”
“Ask him yourself. He strangled her so that you could eat her flesh… Not so different from your evil ancestors, eh?”
Ben was confused. “What about Joe? I take it he’s replicated his great-grandfather’s actions? If so, he was dead before we ate the flesh.”
Davenport grinned manically. “Unfortunately, Joe’s ancestor has been blighted by his association with his friends, and therefore he has been punished accordingly.
Ben was confused. “What happened to Natasha’s body, Davenport? What did you do with her?”
“Ask her yourself. She’s standing right behind you.”
Ben’s feeble body trembled, as he turned slowly around to face Natasha. She was pale, white as a sheet, and her red hair cascaded over her shoulders. A satanic grin was etched on her twisted face. She wore a long white gown, which flowed down to her bare feet.
“Dance with me, Ben,” she whispered.
Ben backed away slowly. “You’re not my wife.”
“Come on, Ben. Please dance with me please.”
Ben retreated towards the dance floor and ignored the ghosts of Joe and Sarah, who continued to waltz. They were now both transparent, which prompted Ben to believe that Sarah was also dead. Natasha advanced towards him. She was not walking, but hovering inches above the dance floor.
Davenport and Bates looked on as Ben continued his retreat.
Natasha whined. “Do you want me, Ben? Remember our fun in the sand dunes?”
Natasha pulled her gown over her head. She was naked. She hovering above the ground and beckoned to Ben.
Ben felt behind him for the door and quickly jerked it open. As he slammed it shut, Natasha’s grotesque face pressed against the windowpane, and her long, inhuman tongue darted in and out. Ben cried unashamedly, and watched her fall into Davenport’s arms. They were lo
cked together in an embrace and Davenport kissed her roughly. The ship owner picked her up and carried her naked body towards one of the tables, where he proceeded to make love to her.
Ben screamed loudly. “You’re not Natasha! My wife is dead.” He watched as she arched her back. Davenport briskly pumped her, and her legs entwined him.
A voice came from behind. “Ben, don’t look. That is not Natasha.”
He turned to see a familiar face. “Ross, you bastard. Wendy was still alive when we carried her to the galley, wasn’t she? You strangled her, didn’t you?”
Ross manoeuvred Ben away from the Ballroom door. “What’re you talking about, Ben? What is this bullshit? Wendy was dead.”
Ben stared into the bus driver’s eyes and knew he was lying.
Cheryl overheard the conversation. “Tell me this isn’t true, Ross.”
Ross relented, slumped to the ground and wept, his head in his hands. “We had to eat, didn't we? She would have died anyway.”
“Oh, my God. I-I don’t believe I’m hearing this,” stuttered Cheryl.
Ben reached for Ross and helped him to his feet. He then slammed his body against the wall, his hands around his throat. “How did you do it, Ross? Like this?” Ben squeezed tightly, as the dark man fought for breath. “Did she scream, Ross? Did she look into your eyes?”
“Leave him alone, Ben! You’ll fucking kill him,” screamed Cheryl, who pulled at Ben’s hair and forced him to release his grip.
Ross massaged his sore throat, his eyes glassy. “You’re mad.” “You could have killed me.”
Ben spat. “The only reason I didn’t, is because I may need you to help get me off this fucking ship. Davenport is intent on killing us all.”
“But why?” asked Cheryl.
Ben calmed down. “Our great-grandfathers did some terrible things to Davenport’s and his companions. They also intended to murder him. He wants revenge. It’s unfortunate for you, Cheryl that you married Ross; otherwise you would not be here.”
“What terrible things?” quizzed Ross.
“Cannibalism. They ate Davenport’s friends and intended to eat him too.”
Ross stared out of the porthole. “We can’t leave this ship in these conditions. The raft is too flimsy and will not hold up to the storm.”
Ben countered. “Storm or no storms, we have to abandon ship tomorrow or we’re dead anyway. Davenport will not allow us to remain onboard. Everything has to be as it was in 1925.”
The three of them departed to the Garden Lounge and the music from the Ballroom faded away, as Joe and Sarah continued their ghostly waltz.
Chapter Twenty Seven
The three hungry survivors savoured their supper, the stale flesh rinsed down with rainwater. Gone was the camaraderie that Ben once had with Ross. Ben realised he was not to be trusted after he had supposedly murdered Wendy Quinn. At present, because of their adequate food, Ross posed no danger to him, but aboard on the raft he would have to be extra vigilant.
Cheryl seemed a decent person, but who knows what atrocities a person can lower him or herself to when faced with the peril of starvation? She was also loyal to her husband. How Ben wished that Danny was here. The younger man he could trust, and his presence would no doubt deter Ross from considering another act of murder. Ben realised he would have to be vigilant at all times.
One thing that puzzled the northerner was the fact that only his and Danny’s ancestor had left on the raft, if indeed Davenport’s version was accurate. He recalled Davenport telling him that Ross Harper’s great-grandfather and his wife had hung themselves. Ben decided not to confide in Ross.
“I’m going to check on the raft,” said Ben.
He reached the deck and found the storm to be as violent as ever. The huge waves reached the extreme of the lower deck and threatened to swallow everything that was not tied down. Ben slowly and carefully made his way to the raft, and the roaring wind and cold spray conspired against him. He finally reached the raft, and was thankful to see it was still secured tightly.
Out of the side of his eye, he observed someone gripping the railing on the starboard side of the ship. He focused on the person and ignored the saltwater that stung his eyes. The mysterious figure turned to face him. Penelope’s long, dark hair fluttered violently in the strong wind and concealed her stunning features. Ben shuffled slowly towards her and tried hard to keep his balance, as the strong gust almost blew him off his feet.
“Hello, David,” said Penelope.
Ben felt sadness. “Penelope, I’m Ben. David died in 1925. You must accept this.”
Penelope ignored the request, her face cheerless. “Why will you not leave Rose, David? Carl is longing to meet his father… I thought you loved me?”
“Penelope, you died in 1925. You threw yourself into the sea. It’s now 2001 and you’re my great-grandmother. I realise how absurd this may sound, but it’s true.”
Penelope wept. “David, all I want is for us to be together. I can offer you so much more than Rose.”
Ben realised that is was pointless to carry on the conversation. She either could not hear him or chose not to. He retreated and watched the distraught socialite walk slowly towards the bow. He left the deck. He did not wish to witness the suicide of Penelope again. How he wished he could end her torment.
She was still playing on his tormented mind when he stopped outside the Garden Lounge. Something was wrong, he could sense it. He paced slowly towards the room.
The sight that greeted him caused him to fight for his breath. Ross and Cheryl hung from the beams, and thick ropes enveloped their swollen necks. Their purple tongues protruded from their mouths as they swayed gently with the rhythm of the ship. Ben surveyed their hideous and mutilated bodies. They were both naked, had been slit from throat to navel, and their vital organs were missing. The silence was only interrupted by the dripping of the blood onto the lounge floor.
Ben held his head as he edged backwards. He was now on his own. Davenport had warned him what would happen, but this was surely no suicide. Ben now experienced guilt. Why had he not warned Ross and Cheryl? Would his warning have made any difference?
Ben’s progress was halted when he backed into somebody. He screamed, turned around swiftly and delivered a powerful punch to the intruder’s head. The man fell to the floor and Ben towered over him, his breathing heavy.
“Shit, Ben, what was that for?”
“Danny. Where’ve you been? We searched high and low for you.”
“You wouldn’t believe it. I found this magnificent room while I was searching for Cindy. There’s food and drink in there. I mean, like real food.”
“I believe I’ve already visited the room.”
Danny could see that Ben was troubled. “Where are the others? Ross and Cheryl?”
“Take a look, Danny boy. Here is what’s remaining of...” He turned to face the Harpers. There was nothing. The place was spotless… no swinging bodies and no blood.
“Yes, Ben. What were you saying?” quizzed Danny.
Ben croaked. “You didn’t see them? You didn’t see them hanging there?”
“I didn’t see Jack shit. I walked into the room and you slugged me. All I saw were stars.”
Ben composed himself. Nothing aboard this damned ship surprised him anymore. “We’re the only ones left now, Danny; you have to accept this.”
“Sarah? You found her?”
“No.”
Danny nodded. “Cindy is not on board this ship, Ben. I realise that now.”
Ben exerted his authority. “First thing in the morning, we’re leaving.”
“That suits me fine. I’ll be glad to see the back of this ship.”
“Me too, Danny. Me too.”
******
The rest of the night was uneventful compared to what had gone on before. Ben had his usual dream of Natasha interrupted by the appearance of Penelope. Ben sniffed the air; the unmistakeable aroma of cigar smoke present. Davenport had been here as we slept
, thought Ben, but why? He looked out of the porthole and was delighted to see that the storm had blown over. Today was make or break. Ben’s fear of water was diluted by his desperation to leave the ill-fated liner.
Ben shook Danny, and he was relieved when he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Here, Danny, drink this,” said Ben, who handed over a small cup of water.
The room that Danny had mentioned had again disappeared, just as it had when Ben had visited it. Their hopes of acquiring the aforementioned food that Danny had savoured were dashed.
They each ate a small sliver of meat before they prepared for their voyage into the unknown.
They went on deck and were taken aback by the heat of the sun. It was a magnificent, clear morning, not a cloud in the sky, and quite a contrast from the day before. They untied the raft and loaded what supplies they needed onto the vessel, including the remaining meat and four bottles of rainwater, along with three bottles of champagne. They had estimated that the food would last four or five days if they ate sparingly. Their belief was that land would be reached before then. Ben placed the distress flares beneath the tarpaulin.
They utilised the winch used for the launching of the lifeboats to gently lower the rafts into the calm blue sea. The two men dashed down to the lower deck, and before they climbed down the rope ladder, they stopped to have one more look at the luxurious liner, where they were to have had the cruise of a lifetime. They descended the ladder and lowered themselves onto the raft.
They released the shackles and with their man made oars, pushed themselves away from the Empress Medina. They rowed slowly away, and the magnificent liner towered above them like a skyscraper. As they rowed further and further from the ship, they both looked back.
They sat bewildered and watched passengers strolling about on the deck, with their colourful parasols, their bright-feathered headbands and Panama hats. Ben looked towards the bridge to see Davenport and Captain Perkins looking out to sea. A loud groan came from the ship; a horrible sound, as if the ship was dying.
“What the fuck was that?” asked Danny.
The Cruise Page 18