by Terry Waite
Felix came on wearing a tailcoat which was far too long for him and a battered top hat, and immediately began: ‘Hello-hello-hello. A funny thing happened as I was coming here tonight. I passed two fish in a tank. One said to the other “Do you know how to drive this?’’
There was a loud groan from the audience.
Felix continued: ‘When we were in Australia the other day, I heard that boomerangs were coming back! Ah - I see that’s gone right over your head,’ said Felix, as only a handful of the audience got the joke and laughed.
‘Let’s try another one. What does a clock do when it’s hungry? Come on,’ he said to the audience, ‘keep up!’
No one answered.
‘Let me tell you,’ he said. ‘It goes back four seconds.’
There was another good-natured groan.
‘Why are there no skeletons here tonight?’ he asked next.
‘We don’t know,’ replied one of the crew boldly.
‘Because they’ve no body to go with.’ Felix grinned at his own joke. Now warming to his act, he said, ‘I say, I say, I say. I saw a Frenchman the other day. I asked him his name. “Phileepe Flop” he replied.’
The audience were left with no time to groan for Felix continued apace with joke after joke after joke, until Enzo walked across the stage bearing a large placard on which was scrawled in large letters INTERVAL. The musicians struck a loud chord and Enzo dropped the notice and applauded, to be echoed by loud clapping from the audience. Felix, realising by now that his time was up, grinned, took a bow and left the stage.
Before anyone could leave, Enzo addressed the audience, saying, ‘Please don’t get up, ladies and gentlemen. There is no interval. My intervention was simply to persuade Felix to come to a halt, otherwise we would never get to the other items on tonight’s glittering programme.’
To cries of, ‘Shame!’ from one quarter and, ‘Well done!’ from another, Enzo introduced the next act, which was Norma and Graham Trotter the Ludo instructors. Norma entered wearing a one-piece bathing costume which she had liberally sprinkled with golden glitter and Graham was in top hat and tails. The audience cheered when they appeared and Graham, quite forgetting that his top hat was full of coloured handkerchiefs, which he was going to produce mysteriously at the right moment, removed his hat to give a low bow. Yards of coloured material flowed everywhere, much to the consternation of Graham and, as Norma did her best to collect it up, he tried without success to stuff it back into the hat. Realising that he was getting nowhere, he tossed the hat to one side and took another bow. The audience, thinking this was all part of the act, applauded and Norma, thinking quickly, produced a deadly-looking sword from the side of the stage. Graham then successfully did a sword-swallowing act. Observant members of the audience could clearly see that the blade retracted into the handle, but those at the back of the room were very impressed. Graham and Norma performed several more illusions then left the stage to cries of, ‘More!’ and, ‘Stick to the day job!’ from someone at the back of the room.
‘Well,’ said Enzo when he returned to the stage. ‘Our show is nearly over.’
Several people shouted, ‘Never,’ but Enzo ignored them.
‘Sadly,’ he continued, ‘we now come to the last act. Two of our distinguished lecturers, Mr Fred Batty and Sir Horace Beanstalk, have spent many hours composing a eulogy which they will now recite. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for … Sir Horace and Mr Fred!’
The pair entered together and the room fell silent. They began to recite in unison:
‘Enzo, our great Cruise Director,
Decided to go for a tour.
He spotted an island out yonder
And said, ‘I’ve not been there before’.
He assembled a small group of travellers,
And into a boat they did get,
They rowed and they rowed, seemed for ever,
By gum it was hot, they did sweat.
They took off their shoes and their stockings,
And waded the last twenty feet.
Sir Archie was wearing his helmet
But he even felt the great heat
The island it seemed quite deserted,
There wasn’t a person in sight
When, suddenly out from the bushes,
They all got a terrible fright.
A monster appeared breathing brimstone
And flicking its tongue in the air,
Enzo said, ‘Run for your lives, lads
The dragon has come from its lair!’
Exhausted, they reached a small clearing
And there was a man with a stick.
He said, ‘I can see you’re not natives,’
As he gave the old dragon a kick.
The dragon ran off in the bushes
And two more great monsters appeared,
The stick man and all his companions
Said, ‘These monsters don’t make us afeared.
But they kill and eat wandering travellers
And chew them until they’re no more,’
With that, dear Alice Hardcastle
Collapsed in a heap on the floor.
The stick man was not very kindly
And demanded a large wad of dough,
Enzo paid up very quickly
As he was most anxious to go.
Then back to the beach went the party,
The stick man was leading the way,
But the boat that they needed to get home
Was floating right out in the bay.
So little canoes were then ordered,
And Enzo paid out some more cash,
And, paddled by several more stick men,
To the Handshake they all made a dash.
And so this sad tale is now over,
The party has all left the shore.
The moral of this little story
Is “Take Care When You Want To Explore”!’
As they uttered the final sentence the musicians played a chord and the poets took a bow. The roof nearly lifted to the roars of applause. Enzo appeared on stage and was quickly surrounded by all the artistes. He motioned members of the senior staff to join them all on stage.
‘What a wonderful evening, ladies and gentlemen!’ he shouted. ‘Now let’s all join hands around the room and sing together “Auld Lang Syne”.’
The musicians struck up and the assembled gathering shattered the evening calm of the majestic Pacific with that fine old Scottish Tune.
It truly was an evening to remember.
45
Sunday morning dawned and the chaplain was putting the last-minute touches to his sermon. He had made several attempts to preach, and on each occasion had been thwarted by some unexpected happening. Now, out in the cloudless Pacific, all seemed set for Captain Sparda to conduct the service, as was the custom on a Sunday sea day, and for the chaplain to preach. Angela had given invaluable assistance in many ways, not least in making sure that his notes were correctly typed. This was a new experience for him, as previously he had scribbled points on any old piece of scrap paper and, once in the pulpit, had considerable difficulty in deciphering what he had previously written. The Golden Glory Choir had practised and were in fine form. In fact, all seemed set for a very pleasant morning, followed by a traditional Sunday lunch that Harry was so expert in preparing.
‘A very good show last night,’ said Captain Sparda as he encountered the chaplain on his way to the service. ‘You really are a dab hand on the drums, chaplain.’
Justin blushed and mumbled that it was quite easy and all one needed was a sense of rhythm.
‘You’re far too modest,’ Sparda told him. ‘Well, you have a chance to shine in a different direction this morning. I do like a good sermon, you know. Don’t hold back, chaplain. You give it all you’ve got.’
The chaplain said that he would do his best and they entered the room which was now prepared for morning worship. Angela was stationed at the doorway with a pile of hymnbo
oks and a service sheet to hand to attenders. She greeted Justin and said that he looked very well in his new clerical robes. Justin blushed yet again. He wished he could do something about this affliction but it had been with him since he was a child and he imagined it would continue throughout life.
Gradually the room began to fill with passengers. The chaplain went behind a screen to join the Captain and several senior officers who were to take part in the service. One of the twins was playing gently on the piano and the Choir members were assembled ready to process in. Exactly on the dot of eleven the Choir received the instruction to process and they were followed by the Captain’s party.
‘Good morning, everyone,’ Captain Sparda began, ‘and welcome to our Sunday-morning service. As you will know, it is the custom on this ship for the Captain to conduct morning worship and you will find the Order of Service on your printed sheets. The chaplain will deliver the sermon but, before we begin, the Golden Glory Choir will sing a short anthem.’
Philippa Parkinson stepped forward to conduct and the singers delivered a very creditable rendering of ‘Sheep May Safely Graze’. Felix de Barkley, never one to miss a joke, turned to his neighbour and whispered, ‘You can tell the conductor is from New Zealand, can’t you?’
‘Shush, Felix,’ said his wife. ‘Do please be quiet for once in your life.’
The Captain began to read the opening sentences followed by Radley Duvet who read the first lesson. Then there was a hymn and another lesson, read by Angela. The Captain then stepped forward and announced the hymn preceding the sermon.
The chaplain made sure he had his notes, and as the congregation and choir sang the final verse, he stepped over to the lectern. He was just about to announce his text when he was interrupted by a sudden lurch of the ship which sent both the lectern and himself flying. An alarm bell immediately began to ring and Sparda, together with his officers, made a hasty retreat.
‘Please keep calm, everyone,’ said Radley, who had picked himself up from the floor of the platform. ‘If you could proceed in an orderly way to your cabins, collect your lifebelt and then gather at your respective stations, that would be the best thing to do.’
The room emptied rapidly. Angela went across to the chaplain who was retrieving his scattered notes from the floor.
‘Come on,’ she urged. ‘This might be serious.’
On deck, small groups of passengers had assembled and the crew were busy checking them off from the passenger-list. No one could quite understand what had happened. There was a cloudless blue sky. The sea was as calm as the proverbial millpond and there was no sign of other shipping, or rocks for that matter. Observant passengers noted, however, that the ship, rather than proceeding on a straight course was, in fact, moving round in a large circle.
‘Oh lord,’ groaned Fred Batty. ‘I know what it is. It’s the steering gear broken once again.’
Fred, the former AA man, accustomed to making accurate assessments of mechanical failures, was exactly right. The gear had failed - and several hours later, Angus Aberdeen had to concede that there was now nothing further that he could do. The ship had to be towed into the nearest dry dock and the essential repairs carried out.
Later that day, when the engines had been stopped and the Golden Handshake lay waiting for a rescue vessel to appear, Admiral Harrington and Captain Sparda called all passengers to a special meeting. There was a general air of gloom. After the initial problems experienced by the ship, everyone had believed they were set fair for a smooth passage home. True, some had known that the mechanics were in a frail state, but it was believed that they would last out. Alas, that was not to be.
It was the Admiral who first addressed the gathering.
‘I can’t begin to tell you what a disappointment today has been,’ he said. ‘In the past we have been able to manage the problems we encountered, but I am afraid today we have to admit defeat. We are now awaiting a sea-going tug that will take us back to the nearest dry dock where repairs will be made. I can’t tell you how long that will take, but it is likely to be two or three weeks at the earliest, possibly much longer than that. I would like to assure you that we have made every effort to repair this problem ourselves, but that proved to be impossible. I am so very sorry. Let me now ask Mr Duvet to address you.’
Radley Duvet had been working furiously during the day to make arrangements for the passengers and, considering that it was a Sunday and they were some miles off the coast, he had done remarkably well. He too expressed his considerable disappointment and then went on to say that the Admiral had been in touch with an old Service colleague who ran a charter airline. An aircraft would be flying out to New Zealand the following day and would transport all passengers who wished to fly back to their home destination - quite free of charge, of course. Everyone would receive a refund to cover the second half of the cruise which they now could not take, and once the Golden Handshake was fully repaired they would be offered another cruise with a substantial discount on the cost.
‘I do think we have done everything we can at the moment,’
concluded Radley, ‘but I must apologise once more. This is a great disappointment to us all.’
It was now the Captain’s turn to speak and he said that he would be very brief. He repeated apologies and said that it was a situation quite beyond their control. For a Captain to have to see his ship let down passengers, in the way the Golden Handshake had done, was a bitter blow but he could assure them all that once she was repaired, he would certainly be back in command and would look forward to welcoming old friends back to join him for the remainder of this cruise.
‘But,’ he said, ‘it is not all bad news this afternoon. Good friendships have been made during the voyage and they will last for many a year. Tonight we shall be having a very special dinner despite the fact that at that time, more likely than not, we will be being towed into harbour. At that dinner I have been invited to make a very special announcement - one that will bring pleasure to many of you, I am sure. So, until then, I must return to the bridge.’
‘Well, Alice,’ said Albert, as those present began to disperse to their Suites and cabins, ‘this is a rum do and no doubt.’
‘Aye, it is, luv. I’d like to come back, wouldn’t you?’
‘I think I might,’ her husband replied. ‘Despite some happenings, it’s been an adventure. I wonder if the chaplain will return, and if he will ever preach a sermon?’
‘We shall have to see,’ said Alice. ‘We shall just have to wait and see.’
There was general agreement amongst the passengers that the Admiral and his Line had behaved very well towards them, and the vast majority said that, if they had the time, they would certainly return to complete the World Cruise at a later date. And so everyone now prepared themselves for the evening and for the surprise announcement.
Despite the acute disappointment felt by the whole ship, passengers were making the best of things. Such were the relationships between crew and passengers that there was no unpleasantness, simply disappointment. There was much excitement in the late afternoon when a tug drew alongside and the stricken Golden Handshake was taken in tow. When they were under way, everyone went to their Suites or cabins to dress for dinner. It had been announced that the final evening would be a dress occasion and that photographs would be taken. There would be no charge to passengers, should they wish to keep pictures of themselves with their partners, or with the Captain and other staff.
At the entrance to the dining room, a long queue formed whilst the Admiral, the Captain and Enzo posed with passengers for the camera. Mike Tucker was determined to pull out all stops for the Gala Dinner and this he did. Champagne was freely available on each table, as was wine. As the meal was drawing to a close, Captain Sparda stood and requested silence for a moment. The room fell quiet.
‘After so long together at sea,’ he began, ‘I feel that now I may address you as friends, even though you are indeed all Ladies and Gentlemen. Today has been one o
f the saddest days of my life at sea, and I think I can say that for all the Ship’s Company. To have to curtail the voyage when we are only halfway through, and to see my lovely ship being towed into dock, breaks my heart. My sadness has only been made bearable by the fact that tomorrow we shall not be saying “Goodbye”. Rather we will be saying “Au Revoir”. I am sure that we shall meet soon to complete the voyage.’
At this point there was loud applause and shouts of, ‘Certainly!’ and ‘We shall be back!’
Sparda smiled.
‘I said this afternoon that I have a surprise for you, and so I shall not keep you waiting any longer. It is a real pleasure for me to announce to you that the good ship Golden Handshake has been a ship that will live forever in the memory of at least four people on board. I am sure that it will remain so for all of you, but for the following four people especially.
‘Mr Fennington Barley has delighted many of our single guests with his faultless dancing. He has also demonstrated his skill as a clog-dancer when he partnered Mrs Dora Guttenburg in what was a wonderful display at the evening entertainment. Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the engagement of Fennington and Dora.’
Immediately the assembled began to clap loudly and the Captain motioned the couple to come forward and join him.
‘That is not all,’ he continued, beaming. ‘There is one person on this ship who joined by accident and that mistake proved to be most fortunate for him and for many who have got to know him. I am also delighted to announce the engagement of our chaplain, the Reverend Justin Longparish, to our Social Hostess Miss Angela Fairweather.’
There was more thunderous applause and once again the Captain motioned the chaplain and Angela to join him and the other engaged couple.
‘As this ship is registered in the UK,’ the Captain went on, ‘I cannot marry the happy couples. However, they tell me that they intend to be married on the same day at the same church - and that we all will be invited to attend.’