The Voyage of the Golden Handshake

by Terry Waite

  ‘G’day,’ said one in an Australian accent that would have terrified the average citizen of Sydney, let alone the UK.

  Lady Veronika remained impassive. Bruce, the one who greeted them, nodded in the direction of his companion.

  ‘That’s Kevin,’ he said. ‘Ever since he had to make a forced landing in the Main Street of Sydney, Kevin doesn’t say much. I think the police can be tough on that sort of thing there.’

  Harry swallowed hard and greeted the two aviators.

  ‘Like your clobber, mate,’ said Bruce, eyeing Sir Archie’s khaki uniform, ‘but you can’t wear that bloody beehive in the plane.’

  He handed the party leather flying helmets and a pair of goggles each.

  ‘I hope you’ve got your winter grundies on, it can get damn parky up there.’

  Harry wondered at this point if Lady Veronika knew something he did not, as she was pretty well covered for the flight, especially when she slipped the fur coat on.

  ‘Nice bit of rabbit,’ grinned Bruce. ‘Who got the pie?’

  Lady Veronika had yet to speak and the rhetorical question asked by Bruce was treated with the disdain it deserved.

  ‘OK,’ said Bruce, slapping Kevin on the back. ‘Time to say our prayers. We’re off.’

  Sir Archie left his precious headgear in a corner and the case with the vodka was stowed and secured in the spare seat in plane Number Two. The prizewinners were safely placed in the two seats in the Number One plane. It was slightly unnerving for Harry as the pilot in this ancient biplane sat behind him, so Harry was directly at the front.

  Kevin came to life when they were on board. ‘Strap yerself in, mate,’ he ordered, as Harry settled into a somewhat confined space. ‘Your job is to keep your mud pies peeled! Look out for jets. Get caught in their slipstream and we are goners. There’s no bang seat in this old kite, you know, so you would have to jump.’

  In flight Number One Lady Veronika occupied the very front seat with Sir Archie at her side and bringing up the rear, Bruce.

  When everyone was as comfortable as they could be, an elderly man, wearing tattered blue overalls, ambled over from nowhere in particular and removed the chocks from under the wheels of both planes. He gave a few swings of the propeller of plane Number One, which soon spluttered into life. He repeated the action for Number Two and then ambled away again as casually as he had arrived. Bruce and Kevin gave each other the thumbs-up sign and both flights bumped their way across the rough grass.

  Once aloft, Kevin maintained his lively attitude. Now, instead of increasing his verbal attributes, he showed what he could do as far as flying an aircraft was concerned. For a while he followed the lead aircraft. After several minutes, he shouted forward to Harry, ‘Is the juice safely secured?’

  Harry had personally supervised the loading of the vodka in the spare seat and assured Kevin that all was OK.

  ‘Righto,’ he responded, then: ‘Make sure you don’t fall out’, and with that he took the biplane into a most terrifying dive.

  Harry gripped the edge of the cockpit in terror as Kevin pulled out of the descent and began to climb vertically. By now Harry had lost all sense of direction and had closed both eyes tightly. Suddenly, he experienced more curious sensations as the biplane completed a backward arc and began yet another rapid descent. The little engine groaned and strained as Kevin levelled out and then began to roll the plane over in a circular motion until they were flying upside down. Harry thanked his stars that he had indeed secured his belts properly, otherwise he would certainly have descended at an even more rapid rate than his conveyance. Eventually they resumed their correct flying position.

  ‘Great little bus this,’ said Kevin with genuine enthusiasm. ‘No time for any more now, mate. Sorry about that.’

  It was a greatly relieved Harry Parkhurst who followed the next set of instructions that came from behind, which was to keep a lookout for flight Number One. Try as he might, Harry could see no sign of another plane. Kevin banked to the left and then to the right, but there was nothing to see except blue sky.

  ‘Too bad,’ he shouted. ‘Bruce is the one who knows where we are going. I don’t!’

  Harry groaned inwardly. The ship had been plagued with problems since the terrible launch from Southend and, on the whole, they had managed to keep the passengers happy. Now for him of all people to lose two important Balcony Suite passengers was too much.

  ‘I’m going to put down,’ bawled Kevin, and began to descend towards a stretch of deserted beach. He flew low to see if it was clear, then he banked, turned and within a few moments the little plane was taxiing to a halt. Both men climbed out and removed their helmets.

  ‘Hold on, mate,’ said Kevin. ‘I’m bursting. Must go and syphon the python.’ He went round to the other side of the plane and returned a few moments later. ‘Pity we’ve no tinnies,’ he said, ‘but what about cracking open the firewater?’

  ‘Look, Kevin,’ said Harry, anxious and somewhat angry, ‘the vodka is not ours - it belongs to the guests who I am supposed to be accompanying to an important meeting. Now you have lost them. What do you intend to do?’

  Kevin scratched his head and looked hurt.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ he said. ‘The radio in the plane packed up last week so that’s crook. I think Bruce wrote down some directions which are in my kit somewhere.’

  He rummaged in a compartment, whilst Harry marvelled at the casual incompetence of his pilot. Some people on the Handshake were bad enough, but this was frankly ridiculous. Eventually Kevin produced a crumpled piece of paper which looked as though it was last used to wrap sandwiches in.

  ‘Got it!’ he exclaimed with glee. ‘Right, mate, back on board and chocks away.’

  Once more Harry strapped himself in, adjusted his helmet and goggles, and they were off along the deserted beach as though they were competing for the land-speed record of Sri Lanka. Once aloft, Kevin kept quiet for about half an hour until he startled Harry by shouting, ‘There they are, mate! What a beaut!’

  Way down below Harry could see a grass strip with flight Number One positioned to the side of it.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as they landed, removed his helmet and goggles and went across to join the small group who had come to meet them. For a moment, Harry thought that there was going to be a stand-up fight. To put it politely, Bruce was very cross with Kevin and told him so. Kevin responded by returning a further string of insults, after which they both went off in search of a beer.

  Sir Archie, clearly missing his pith helmet, had knotted a large white handkerchief over the top of his perspiring head. He greeted Harry like a long-lost relative.

  ‘My dear boy,’ he uttered, ‘when we saw your plane doing those remarkable gyrations we really thought you had been shot down. Thank goodness you’re alive and well. We were most worried, let me tell you.’

  Harry explained that Kevin had got carried away and then lost the lead plane.

  ‘Well, it’s very good to see you,’ Sir Archie repeated. ‘Come on, let’s go and meet the others. My dear wife is having private talks with someone from the Tigers at the moment and so I was just having a refresher.’ He poured something from a hip flask and offered it to Harry, who refused.

  ‘By the way, have you got the vodka?’ Sir Archie said as he quaffed the drink himself.

  Harry confirmed that he had.

  ‘I’m not sure it will be appreciated, Harry, as most of the chappies are Muslims or Hindus. It was my wife’s idea to bring it. She thinks the whole world likes the stuff. Well, they say there are one or two Christians up here and they always enjoy a bit of a tipple, what?’

  A young man was dispatched to unload the bottles from the cockpit, and whatever religion he followed he seemed overjoyed with the booty.

  Harry surveyed the scene around him. A flat airstrip on which the two planes were the only aircraft, and a few wooden huts with several young men milling around doing nothing in particular. Not a sign of any arms. It all seemed
most placid.

  ‘I say,’ said Sir Archie, when half an hour had passed, ‘my dear wife is taking rather a long time, eh? We can’t afford to linger, Harry. It’s a long way back, you know.’

  Harry knew all too well and was as anxious as his charge.

  ‘These Tiger boys are dangerous fellows,’ the other man went on. ‘I know Veronika knows some of them, but I confess I’m worried. I thought she would be met by the folks she knew from the past, but not so. They took her off, as I thought, to see the chief.’

  Both Harry and Sir Archie were beginning to think the worst when there was a sound of crashing through the undergrowth some distance away and several elephants appeared walking in single file and linked trunk to tail.

  ‘Good Lord!’ cried Sir Archie. ‘Is that Veronika up on high?’

  Harry looked at the lead elephant and, sure enough, there was a figure in a long skirt and cloche hat balanced precariously on its back. A little man with a stick guided the procession in their direction, and when the familiar features of Lady Veronika became visible, he could see that the customary scowl was exceptionally severe.

  The elephants stopped and the chief mahout gave a command, at which Lady Veronika was gently lowered to the ground. With her usual composure she walked across to Sir Archie and indicated that she wished to speak to him in private. Harry discreetly withdrew but, even some distance away, he could hear her voice booming out in what he assumed was Russian. It did not seem like a happy reunion at all. After ten minutes or so the couple returned. Sir Archie, somewhat red in the face and sweating even more beneath his knotted handkerchief, indicated to Harry that they had better leave now. Harry summoned the pilots, both of whom were fast asleep, and with the briefest of farewells they were airborne again.

  It was some time before Harry understood what had occurred on that strange visit to the secret camp of the Tamil Tigers. Somehow, somewhere, instructions had got scrambled. When Harry’s contact had heard that two cruise passengers wanted to visit the Tigers, he thought there was a mistake as there are no tigers in the country, only a very rare species of Black Leopard. Thinking that the visitors were animal lovers, he arranged for them to visit an elephant training camp instead, and that is where they finished up and why Lady Veronika was so annoyed. Not only had she handed over a precious sable fur coat, but also a whole crate of the finest vodka, to a character who might well have been portrayed by Kipling in one of his jungle tales.

  38

  ‘It is not certain how many islands there are in Indonesia.’

  The Admiral was holding forth to a small group of passengers gathered in the lounge of the Golden Handshake.

  ‘Some say seventeen thousand, others over eighteen. Whatever, there are a lot,’ he said, as he sipped his pink gin.

  ‘Easy to confuse them,’ said one of the party.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ replied Sir Benbow confidently. ‘With modern navigation, such as this ship possesses, seamen have little difficulty. I remember when I was in command during my days in the Service of Her Majesty, God bless her, we sailed through these waters without the slightest of problems.’

  The group sat back in their seats, glad to be on board a vessel where there was such a wealth of professional ability on hand.

  Up on deck, it was sweltering. The primitive air conditioning just about made life tolerable below decks, but even though the ship was at sea where there was a slight breeze, the heat and humidity were considerable. Radley Duvet, the Hotel Manager, decided the time had come to reveal to the passengers a feature that had been kept hidden from them since they departed from Southend. It was now the time to inform them that on deck, bathing facilities would be available immediately.

  He imagined, quite correctly, that this news would come as a surprise to all as there was not the slightest sign of a swimming pool on deck. There was, however, an area on the main deck that had remained covered over since the start of the cruise. Very few, if any, of the passengers, knew that the Handshake had formerly been a cattle transporter. A remarkable job of conversion had been accomplished and there were virtually no artefacts left on board to give a hint of former days. True, early on in the cruise, there had been the slight aroma of horses - but that passed quickly and virtually everyone on board now believed that the ship was built especially for cruising. The covered area on the deck, however, gave a clue to former days as it was, in fact, a long cattle trough.

  It was certainly not possible for anyone, no matter how slightly built, to swim in the trough, but it was ideal for passengers to sit and dangle their feet in the water and thus get some cooling relief from the raging temperature surrounding them. Along the back of the trough some rather colourful chairs had been placed so that twelve passengers at a time could occupy a seat and enjoy bathing their feet in the water. It was reasoned by those who thought of this innovation that, as most passengers were of mature years, they would not wish to swim but would prefer to paddle as they did with their grandchildren on a visit to the seaside.

  Radley, who was very proud of the pool, requested the Admiral to open it, but, anxious for more of the senior staff to share something of the glory, the Admiral suggested that both Radley and Enzo declare the pool open and that the chaplain be invited to bless it. He further suggested that as the Chief Engineer would be responsible for the pool, he also ought to be with the party and so Angus Aberdeen was once again hauled up from the depths.

  It was determined that, after the official opening, the pool would then be available for the first three hours to Balcony Suite passengers, the following three hours to Grade One cabins, and on the following day to the remainder of the passengers. Thereafter, it was first come first served. Radley had prepared a little notice which said that it would not be possible to reserve seats once the pool was fully operative and no towels were to be left on seats to reserve them. Once a passenger had left a seat, then it would become vacant and available for use by another. During stormy weather the pool would be closed, of course.

  On a sweltering morning, when the ship was somewhere en route to Indonesia, a small procession made its way to the upper deck. Radley and Enzo walked side by side, dressed for the occasion in their immaculate tropical whites. They were followed by the Admiral in similar dress except that he dazzled many of the onlookers by an extensive range of medals, which one wit (guess who) said made him look like a mobile Christmas Tree. The chaplain brought up the rear, soberly attired in a white cassock which Angela had had made for him by the ship’s tailor.

  The famous eagle lectern had been brought into use once again; it stood on a small dais along with several chairs placed there for the processional party. To the side of the stage stood a group of Balcony Suite passengers in bare feet, ready once the pool was officially opened, to take their seats by the trough.

  Albert and Alice were first in line. Albert’s trousers were rolled up to his knees and he wore a collarless shirt, together with his flat cap, to give him protection from the sun. Alice wore what she called her ‘Summer Outfit,’ which was yet another flowered dress - this time made up from a pattern in Floral Life. Before coming out on deck she had sent Albert off to see what Mrs Potts was wearing, as she would have been mortified had they dressed alike yet again. As Mr and Mrs Potts were no longer Balcony Suite passengers they were not amongst the elite but they were in attendance all the same. Alice was calmed when Albert reported that Mrs P was wearing a trouser suit which made her look a bit on the fat side.

  Sir Archie was lined up but, alas, without his lady wife. She had said that there was no paddling in Siberia and she had no intention of paddling now. Sir Archie had paddled all his life in the freezing waters off the Norfolk coast and was delighted to resume his childhood pastime.

  There was some confusion regarding the New Zealand twins. They had lined themselves up with the Balcony Suite elite when they were Grade One passengers. No one on the staff liked to challenge them on this matter and so they were allowed to stay in their position. It matt
ered little anyway as several other Balcony Suite types had elected not to paddle but preferred to watch the opening ceremony from the safety of the deck. Philippa and Petra had dressed for the occasion. They appeared in identical red striped bathing costumes with trouser legs tied just above the ankles with tape and similarly tied just above the wrists. Their outfits were crowned with floral bathing caps that left Alice looking as though her flowers had suffered severe drought.

  ‘This is the outfit we always wear when we bathe in the Tukituki,’ they said when meeting the Cruise Director on their way to the deck.

  He blinked and remarked that they looked charming and were most suitably dressed for a very important event.

  Giovanni and Marco, the musicians, had had their visit to the ship extended by popular request and today were busy playing a selection of popular melodies as the crowd waited expectantly for the Admiral to arrive.

  At eleven precisely a crew member gave three rings on the ship’s brass bell and the small procession entered the deck to applause from the expectant passengers. Giovanni could not play Handel’s ‘Water Music’ on his accordion, no matter how hard he tried, so it was left to Marko to perform a very passable solo to accompany the processional party. They climbed onto the platform and Enzo went to the lectern to welcome people and introduce Admiral Benbow Harrington RN (Retired), shipping magnate and proud owner of the Golden Oceans Shipping Line.

  The Admiral stepped forward and surveyed the crowd before him. He took a red spotted handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. It really was very warm indeed. He was just about to open his mouth when the huge figure of Angus Aberdeen appeared. Although his whites were slightly soiled (a forgivable sin for an engineer), nevertheless he cut an impressive figure. He made his way to the platform and mumbled an apology which he thought was uttered in a whisper but the mike caught every word.