by Terry Waite
Enzo got off to an unfortunate start as, although he knew the faces of those assembled, he could not put a name to them.
‘Good to see you, Mr Speed,’ he said to the chaplain, who looked up with a start.
‘I think you - ’ began the chaplain, but was cut short by Enzo who, quickly realising his mistake, decided that he would not address anyone directly.
‘I must explain,’ he said,’that you are here as both passengers and crew.’
Toby Troy looked puzzled. ‘What does that mean?’ he asked.
Before Enzo could answer, Sir Horace, a veteran of the lecturing world, jumped in.
‘It means,’ he said, ‘that if the passengers get free handouts you pay because you are crew. If the crew get special treatment you don’t because you are a passenger.’
Everyone looked at Enzo for his reply but there was none as he chose to ignore the explanation given. Rather he continued with his introduction.
‘Remember,’ he said, ‘that passengers come first. If there is not enough ice cream, then you must go without. We do not have the facilities to video record your lectures, but still photographs will be taken of you as you lecture and they will be available for the passengers to view in the library. From time to time local entertainers will be brought on board and will require the use of the stage for rehearsals. You may find your lecture time cut short on such occasions. You will be rated by the passengers, of course, and unless you get ten out of ten for two out of three lectures, you will not be back with Golden Oceans again. Ever. Any questions?’
The assembled company looked glum. It didn’t seem to be such a good holiday, after all, but they remained silent as they had no wish to upset anyone at this stage of the cruise.
‘Now, chaplain,’ said Enzo, waking the good man from his meditation. ‘What are your plans, as I have no information at all about you, since you are a late entrant.’
The chaplain blushed. ‘The Captain has kindly invited me to stay on board and be in attendance for spiritual duties. Each day I propose to teach the passengers who volunteer to come to my group to sing some little songs,’ he said innocently.
‘Such as?’ queried Enzo.
‘Well, “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam” is very nice. ‘I am sure they might enjoy singing that. I intend to form a Golden Glory Group and they will sing at the service on Sundays.’
Enzo nodded, while Toby Troy, the former Bible-puncher turned apostate, snorted. Sir Horace, a devout Anglican, expressed the hope that the 1662 Book of Common Prayer would be the one and only book used on a Sunday, and the Ludo Champions said that as Ludo would be played all day and every day, they would not have the time to attend any other activities. To be an expert Ludo player required hours of practice, and they dare not miss one single moment of one day.
Fred Batty said nothing as he was a nominal Roman Catholic, for whom there seemed to be no provision on board. It remained to Fennington Barley from Ulster to declare that he suspected the Captain and ‘certain other senior staff members’ were those who gave their allegiance to the Pope in Rome and that his motto would be ‘No Pope here’ - at which point Patrol Man Batty was heard to whisper under his breath, ‘Lucky Pope.’
Sensing possible conflict, Radley Duvet, who had remained quietly in the background, rose to his feet.
‘That’s about it,’ he said. ‘You will all be informed twenty minutes before you are due to perform, so always be ready. By the way, the Golden Chopsticks Restaurant is not open for the use of entertainers and lecturers unless you are invited by a guest. That restaurant is reserved for passengers occupying Balcony Suites and Grade One accommodation. Good night, ladies and gentlemen.’
The assembled party rose and made their way back to their cabins, duly instructed.
17
Another sea day dawned as the good ship Handshake ploughed her way to the next port of call, Seville. It was a big day for former AA Patrol Man Fred Batty as he was due to deliver the Destination lecture, the first of a series that would take him right around the world. He had never visited Spain before, let alone Seville, as his route back in England only covered Basingstoke and the surrounding area, but Fred was an enterprising chap, as all AA patrol men have to be. Before leaving home he had spent days in the local library consulting the internet and Wikipedia in particular. He was able to copy reams of information about the places the ship was due to visit and, with a little touching up, they were easily converted into what he considered to be an instructive and erudite lecture. He had also been able to assemble a set of slides, many of which he had picked up at a local boot sale. It took him hours of careful study to look at a slide of, say, Seville Cathedral and then check it against a picture of the Cathedral drawn from the internet. Eventually he thought he might have got things right, but also reasoned that if everything was not totally correct, no one would ever know.
Albert and Alice, also new to Spain, decided that they might attend Fred’s peroration but were a little put out when they discovered that it was scheduled for eight in the morning, a time when they would normally be having breakfast. It was arranged at this hour by Enzo so as not to interfere with his language classes, and also the Ludo champions, who were a formidable couple, had promised to create real difficulty if other events clashed with their session. This was difficult as their classes continued from nine each morning until late afternoon.
Fred had been up very early studying his notes and adding last-minute touches. Although he was a casual dresser when out of his AA uniform, he decided that he ought to display a touch of sophistication on the ship and so he had come equipped with a velveteen purple bow-tie and a maroon smoking jacket. The tie and the jacket nicely contrasted with each other and made him more visible to his audience at the rear of the auditorium.
Albert and Alice were waiting outside the breakfast area at seven thirty and as soon as the doors opened they went in and rushed through their meal. They arrived at the auditorium at a few minutes to eight o’clock, and to their surprise there were only three other people present, one of whom was Sir Horace Beanstalk. He was the one lecturer on board who had considerable experience of cruise lines, and often attended other lectures mainly to see if they got more people to attend than he did. An eminent botanist, he was reputed to have the largest collection of coloured slides of any other living person.
Fred Batty hovered nervously at the entrance, waiting to be fitted with a lapel mike. The technician emerged seemingly from nowhere and placed the device in the inside pocket of Fred’s jacket and the miniature mike on his lapel. By now another couple had arrived and Fred stepped towards the lectern. He then waited for Enzo to arrive to introduce him and was still waiting when he heard the technician shout out, ‘OK, mate. Start now.’
Fred straightened his notes and looked out at the gathering. He was somewhat disappointed at the turnout, but thought things might get better as the cruise got into its stride.
‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘May I welcome you to the first of many lectures about the places we are going to visit. When this series is over you will be very well informed, believe you me. Today our next port is called Seville.’
After this cursory introduction, he then turned to his notes, copied verbatim from the Internet and which he proceeded to intone.
‘Seville is the capital and largest city of the autonomous community of Andalusia and the province of Seville, Spain. It is situated on the plain of the River Guadalquivir. The inhabitants of the city are known as sevillanos (feminine form: sevillanas) or hispalenses, after the Roman name of the city, Hispalis.’
Fred Batty stumbled along and had quite forgotten how difficult some of the words were to pronounce. In his cabin the previous night he seemed to have managed well, but this morning it was an effort. He came to the end of the first page and looked up at his audience. Sir Horace who was sitting directly in front of him, appeared to be sleeping, but the two or three others whom he could make out in the gloom were still co
nscious.
‘Now for my first slide,’ he said, uttering the pre-agreed cue to the technical officer stationed in a booth at the back of the room.
He waited and nothing happened.
‘Now is the time for the first slide,’ he repeated in a louder voice.
Still nothing happened.
‘My slide!’ he shouted. ‘Can you please show my slide of Seville Cathedral?’
The shouting awoke Sir Horace, who had been dreaming that he was lecturing on the flora and fauna of the Isle of Man. He stumbled to his feet and turning towards the booth, shouted, ‘Not Seville, you fool. The Isle of Man. Flora.’
The technician, who had also lost consciousness with the world for a moment, heard the request from Sir Horace and was puzzled. The only flora he knew was ‘Interflora’ who sent flowers around the world. He shouted back, ‘If you want Interflora you can get hold of them via the internet after the lecture. I can’t do anything now.’
Fred, still on stage and increasingly confused, repeated his request for his first slide. The technical officer, who had now found some holiday pictures taken when one of the passengers had visited Kew Gardens, inserted one into the Magic Lantern and the audience were treated to an elderly lady in a mackintosh standing by the side of a bed of tulips.
In desperation Fred turned to his notes in an attempt to resume his commentary. To his utter horror, when he turned the page he revealed the dinner menu for that night which was always left in the cabin the previous evening. Somehow he had picked this up and left his notes behind. Quick-thinking and as resourceful as ever, he decided to cut his losses. ‘Well, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘that’s all for this morning. Before I leave, let me read to you what your choices at dinner will be this evening.’
He slowly read through the menu and then with a small bow left the platform.
‘Funny do,’ said Albert as he and Alice left the room. ‘I shan’t miss me breakfast for that again.’
The day in Seville was uneventful. Albert had gleaned nothing from the lecture and both he and Alice spent the day looking in shop windows for the only thing they knew about Seville, which was marmalade.
‘Not a jar to be seen anywhere,’ grumbled a disappointed Alice. ‘I so wanted to take a pot of the real stuff back to Cousin Pam in Cleethorpes, but I can’t even find Golden Shred, let alone Seville.’
On their return to the ship, at long last the electronic card system was working and they were able to check in without difficulty. It appeared that now, the teething problems of the Golden Handshake were over and everyone could relax and look forward to visiting that home from home, Gibraltar.
18
After the start of the cruise, which no one could pretend had been a total success, the past few days at sea had given Harry Parkhurst some respite. As always, he had been thinking ahead and now he was occupied with attempting to engage some local entertainers to come on board for a short period and provide an evening show or two. The ship, having been a former cattle-boat, presented a challenge in that the main place where entertainment could be held was the former holding-pen for cows and horses. However, it had been tastefully adapted and provided a sizeable space within which to stage a show.
Harry had seen many performances at sea. Hits from the Shows constantly did the rounds, but it took a largish group of young singers and dancers to perform it and frankly, it was a bit tired no matter how many changes of costume the leading lady managed in an evening. Fortunately, it was not too difficult to secure the services of a multi-talented musician who would play anything from a tin whistle to a tuba, and a pianist who could thump out popular classics, and no doubt at some time during the voyage such individuals would find a place on the programme. However, Harry wanted the first show on the ship to be really unusual, and unlike the sort of thing one would normally see on a World Cruise. He spent a lot of time talking to an associate in Gibraltar and learned that there was a totally unique act that would be available for boarding once the ship arrived in Eilat. Keeping this information to himself, Harry booked the show there and then without informing the other members of staff. It was to be a surprise for everyone.
On the bridge, Captain Sparda was well pleased with the performance of his command. He was now in complete charge. The Admiral had made it clear from the start that he would take a back seat, and since sailing from Bilbao he had hardly put in an appearance. He took his meals in his little cabin and was only seen at night, when he came out for some fresh air. No one knew that he was attempting to evade the doctor until he could think of some way of dealing with what might be a very embarrassing situation. Captain Sparda was, by now, utterly fed up with hosting his own table and was now given to asking the Staff Captain to sit in for him while he, the Captain, remained on the bridge.
Enzo Bigatoni was disappointed with the attendance at his language classes. Unfortunately, word had got round the ship that his language ability was zero due to his less than creditable performance in Calais. At the last class, only three passengers had turned up, two of whom came from China and apart from a very few words of English, spoke only in Mandarin. The phrasebook they carried everywhere was infinitely better than the one used by Enzo for instruction, much to his annoyance. They made no progress with him whatsoever. The third pupil was Lady Veronika Willoughby, who hailed from deepest Siberia and who was far from communicative at the best of times. She took an instant dislike to Enzo, but this was hardly surprising as she took an instant dislike to most people. She insisted on bringing into the class a large glass of yak’s milk at which she sipped constantly as Enzo was attempting to get one word through to the Chinese. Lady Veronika had brought her own supply of yak’s milk with her on board; it was kept frozen and she hoped to be able to top it up on shore from time to time during the voyage.
Enzo was at a loss to know how to increase numbers at his class and spent many a long hour worrying about this.
Due to the turbulent weather experienced during the first days of the cruise, the Hotel Manager, Radley Duvet, had not been under too much pressure from passengers regarding food, as few had been eating. He had received several angry visits from Mike Tucker, the Head Chef, who complained at the lack of variety in the store. Beans there were aplenty, and Mike, who formerly ran a café in the Old Kent Road, knew a thing or two about beans. On this cruise he had served them on toast, curried them, made them into a chilli, filled out a shepherds pie, introduced them into wraps - but his stock never seemed to diminish. The Head Chef insisted that in Gibraltar he would have to go ashore and put the stores in some sort of order, as the fool who had stocked the ship in Southend had no idea what he was doing. Radley took great exception to this slur on his reputation, and the problem was only resolved when Mike produced a large cleaver and chased him out of the galley.
Down in the bowels of the ship, where the Medical Department was located, the doctor lay low. He had managed to stuff one bottle of brandy into his pocket before he was hauled aboard in Bilbao, but to his everlasting regret he had left two further bottles behind in the pony and trap in his haste to catch the ship. Now the bottle he had brought with him was dangerously low and he was informed that all drinks on the ship had to be brought on by passengers as the ship had a very limited stock of alcohol. He was waiting anxiously for the first patient to arrive when there might be a chance of accepting a bottle in return for a reduction on their medical bill. Meanwhile he took small nips of the beverage to keep his spirits up.
Little did the doctor know, that in the small sickbay was a member of the senior staff, the chaplain - added at the last moment by the Captain. The latter was given to making decisions without consulting his shipmates. Consequently there was no cabin allocated to the Padre. Following his accident in the heads he had languished in the sickbay under the care of a medical attendant, believing that he would be put ashore at the first available opportunity. He had then been taken on by the Captain but remained cabin-less in the sickbay, where he was discovered when the do
ctor made his first appearance.
‘Hello, Johnny,’ said the doctor cheerfully when he stumbled across the chaplain making up his tiny cot in preparation for the night. ‘Sit down, put your tongue out and say ah.’ The chaplain did as he was told.
‘Ummm,’ murmured the doctor. ‘Ummm … ‘ He turned to the attendant.
‘Tubular Pie-aka,’ he said. ‘Never seen such a clear case. Only water for forty-eight hours and after that lemon juice for forty-eight hours.’
The chaplain tried to say something but was cut short.
‘Dangerous to speak, Johnny old boy. You’ll ruin your vocals if you do. Total silence for forty-eight hours, after which four words per hour for another forty-eight hours. By the way, before you do go silent, you don’t happen to have any brandy, do you?’
The chaplain shook his head.
‘Well, too bad,’ said the ever hopeful doctor, regretting that his first patient had proved to be so disappointing. ‘Next time perhaps. Off to bed now.’ And with that he left the cubicle and returned to his office, leaving the dismayed chaplain under the ever-watchful eye of the attendant.
Back on the bridge everything appeared shipshape. Rounding the Rock of Gibraltar had been slightly turbulent, but the Golden Handshake had behaved beautifully and Captain Sparda was delighted with her performance.