by Mark Rice
Once again tears of laughter were mopped up by thick white cotton table napkins and the men grinned broadly as they could clearly relate to aspects of my story more closely than they’d like to admit.
We exited the restaurant chatting happily and strode, as a group, to the theatre—a first on this cruise.
Colin "Fingers" Hatch took centre stage in the Gaiety Theatre His style was very reminiscent of the sadly now departed Les Dawson. Colin, pushing eighty years old, had over fifty years’ experience in show business and was a hard-working trouper who looked destined to die in his boots, doing what he enjoys the most—performing.
Being the fourth comic to work on this cruise, several of his gags had already been told but he got away with giving them his own “special” treatment. He told jokes while accompanying the story with appropriate music on the piano. When he played, his fingers flew across the keyboard. He also had a habit of laughing, helplessly giggling to himself, before telling the joke. As you know laughter is infectious and soon he had the room echoing to laughter.
Two husbands met in Tesco's and had lost their wives in the store.
One said to the other “Lets both look for both wives. What's yours like?"
The other guy said "Well she's 35, long blonde hair, blue eyes and legs to die for. What’s your wife look like?"
"Forget about mine. Let’s look for yours!"
He performed a remarkable trick, even more, remarkable given his advancing years, of playing the piano while standing on his head. Finally, he finished with a rousing version of Evita's Don't cry for Me Argentina accompanied by the SS Azara Orchestra.
Out of the theatre, we were swept along the corridor, trapped in a sea of people walking to the rear of the ship to attend the Keys Duo. They were a saxophone and piano pairing and this evening it was to be a performance of Movie Music and featured music by Roger Williams, Henry Mancini and Shostakovich, to name but a few. They were very good and the more accessible set of songs made for a better show.
We exited and headed for bed.
I lay wide awake, yet very still, as Margaret settled into a deep sleep for the night. She slept on her side facing away from me and breathing slowly and regularly. I hit the light button on my watch and a dull glow lit up from under the sheets.The time displayed was 23:30 exactly. We’d been in bed an hour.
Very slowly, and with minimum movement, I edged my body to the side of the bed and slid from under the blankets. I then gathered my clothes and shoes and carried them into the bathroom. There I could dress and straighten myself before creeping from the bathroom and out of the cabin.
I stood in a brightly lit long corridor of passenger cabins that seemed to extend for one hundred yards or more, in each direction. There were doors on each side of the corridor and periodically I passed openings led to lift and stair landings. Not a sound could be heard. Not a person to be seen. This was an adult-only cruise and most if not all of the pensioners were tucked away in bed.
I walked towards the stairs and dropped a level to Lawton’s. I walked past the bar and the ballroom which were both deserted save for a few staff tidying up. Lawton’s door clicked open and, once inside, I closed it behind me, slipping on a pair of disposable surgical gloves. The room was not in darkness but was softly lit.
I made my way to Brendan’s storage area, in a cabinet near the door. I ignored the new boxes of playing cards this time but removed his small portable typewriter and placed it on a table. I snapped a sheet of A4 into the machine and rolled the page up to the top where I commenced typing.
I extracted from my pocket a note that I had I’d cut out of the ship’s newsletter some weeks back. So for the next ten minutes, I transcribed the details from that note on to the blank A4 sheet which I headed Intermediate Class Bridge Test.
I spent a minute checking my handy work and accuracy of the typing before visiting the Library room next door. There I helped myself to paper before running off forty A4 copies on the HP LaserJet that sat next to the librarian’s desk. Once done, I slipped the bundle of now hot paper inside a plastic folder and returned to Lawton’s placing the typewriter back in its resting place. A quick glance up and down the corridor revealed it to be empty. The door clicked closed behind me and I retraced my steps back to our cabin carrying the folder.
Margaret hadn’t moved. I slipped into the bathroom, closed the door and switched on the sink light. There I made up my concoction using the chemicals supplied by the chemist on St. Vincent’s and what I had left of my own supplies. Using a damp sponge soaked in the liquid now in my bathroom sink I ran the sponge around all four sides of the bundle of A4 sheets, several times. I hurried on the drying process by applying the hairdryer. Then I had a quick glance into the darkened bedroom which revealed a still slumbering figure in the bed. Once dry the sheets were stored in the plastic folder and slipped in my bag. I shed the gloves after sanitising the bathroom and I threw what chemicals I had left into a paper bag. I’d get them overboard first thing tomorrow. It’s too risky to continue poisoning people and to store away the evidence.
Day 33
Saturday 4th February.
Cruising up the Amazon River, Brazil.
Just after midnight we reached the mouth of the Amazon River and crossed the Amazon bar at high tide with fourteen feet to spare. The rich blue sea was replaced in the hours leading up to the crossing by brown fresh water, filled with nutrients washed down from the mountains of Peru.
The impact on sleeping passengers was the end of the vibrations, the strong rock and roll movement of the ship and the start of more gentle motions.
We awoke and made our way to the buffet restaurant walking across the open deck and experiencing for the first time the increased humidity of the Amazon. There wasn’t much to see except brown water for miles and some distant green land.
I slipped my paper bag over the railing when Margaret wasn’t looking and felt relieved to see it disappear under the waves in seconds.
After breakfast in the air-conditioned restaurant, we stepped back outside and managed a game of tennis. Margaret recorded her first Amazonian insect bite during the game and within minutes displayed a swollen lump on her throat just below her chin.
“Time to slap on the DEET Insect Repellent!” I said and she agreed.
The bridge class was interrupted by the captain’s announcement that we would be crossing the equator soon and we did so minutes later. I believe there was a monument marking the point on the shoreline, but I didn’t see it.
In the distance I spotted a small town but we were too far away to see much. But that didn't stop droves of passengers thronging to the sides of the ship and snapping away with the cameras.
The bridge class was another good lesson for me because I bid incorrectly, as responder and lost the game for me and my partner. During the game Mabel, my new partner, managed to irritate Jennifer with her shushing noises and Margaret threatened not to attend tomorrow, preferring a church service instead. Mabel is becoming a pain in the ass but I have plans for her.
With class wrapping up and the intermediate class invading the room I reached down into my bag and retrieved the folder and its paper contents. Picking my moment, when Margaret and Jennifer had left the table and before Mabel’s husband had sat down, I handed the folder over to Mabel who was sorting out her own bag for the next session.
“Mabel,” I said, “Brendan asked if you can hand these out?” It was perfect timing. She was distracted with extracting notes for the next class and storing away the ones from the last class. She had worked herself into a bit of tizz and my interjection just added to her confused state.
She took the easy option I had hoped for. “Yes, certainly, I will Luke. Leave it to me.”
I unclipped the folder’s clasp and left the documents peaking out, ready for her old fingers to hold and distribute. “Don’t forget now.” I reminded her, with a smile before vanishing into the milling crowd.
We stopped for coffee before following up a
notice in the Skyline newsletter that announced that a clothes sale would be held today.
Arriving on deck 6, I spotted a veritable feeding frenzy ensuing, as a crowd of women shoppers were milling about four rails of sales clothes.
I lost Margaret at one stage and had to climb the swirling staircase a few steps to get a downward view of the bedlam and to spot her again. Hangers were strewn on the floor and women rubbed shoulders squeezing past one another with articles of clothing in their hands or allowing them to slip off hangers and fall to the floor. Margaret did her best but returned empty-handed.
At choir practice Aoife and Tony distributed the lyrics for a vinyl record I bought back in 1968. It’s called America by Simon and Garfunkel and it's actually one of their lesser-known songs but I’ve loved it from the moment I first heard it, all those years ago. The choir masters didn't cover it today as we were focused on the intricate harmonies Aoife is crafting into the Can't Help Falling in Love number.
Afterwards, Margaret informed me that she’s feeling excluded in the new choir. “I hate the way that women group together—they make me feel like an outsider.”
“Oh, no, that’s not good. Why don’t you sit with Arthur’s wife, Jean?” I ventured.
“ No - I don’t really know her Luke. Anyway, I’m just saying I might not attend after today”and she turned on her heels and left the room.
With the choir practice over I changed clothes for the gym and pushing lunch back to later in the afternoon, I ran 5 kilometres. I felt good and changed again for the pool where I swam with Margaret.
The Brazilian immigration and customs teams now on board cleared the ship for onward travel and we set off to cover a further eight hundred miles upstream to the city of Manaus. The pilots who will guide us there have now also boarded.
The ship started to move forward at about 16:00 and the captain came over the PA to say that we are clearing the Amazon River bottom by a mere six feet and are moving through the shallow water at 4 miles per hour. Our propellers are rotating so close to the bottom that we are churning up mud and plants from the river bed.
We ate with a full table tonight. Even Roger attended, although he was still bunged up with a cold. Plenty of vibrations at our table caused plates, saucers, cups and cutlery to rattle and bounce about. The other tables in the restaurant didn’t seem to suffer as badly as we did. Speculation has it that we were running aground and that the stabilisers were being used to release the ship.
“Did anyone see those people on stretchers near reception this afternoon?” asked Rose innocently.
“No” gasped Jill. “But I did see three people looking very poorly and being taken from the restaurant.”
“Now that you mention it, there was a crowd of passengers hanging around the reception area just before we came up for the meal tonight. What do you think is happening?” asked Frank. “Maybe it’s the Novo virus striking again?”
The conversation went around the table, but no progress was made. It was all just wild speculation.
I kept my own counsel, although my mind was running riot acting out various scenarios, constantly flipping from one to another. These passengers may well be the first of many who will become ill over the coming hours, thanks to my evil act.
After dinner, we walked to the Gaiety Theatre for the second show from the 4 Voices, and though they did sing solidly enough at least three of their songs had been covered by other acts in the previous thirty-odd days. Before the act had even finished, I was horrified to watch tens of passengers get up and walk out. While the boys bowed and accepted the applause, streams of people had turned their backs to the stage and were hurrying out the exits. Appalling behaviour!
We visited the upper decks hoping to get a view of the Amazon at night but the top deck was off limits. We settled for a couple of gin and tonics in the Crow’s Nest listening to a pianist playing and singing Billy Joel and Eric Clapton numbers while lightning bolts flashed across the sky above the rainforests which bordered the great river on both sides.
It struck me as strange, that we were seated in this little slice of England, enjoying a nice 18 degrees, in a carpeted room with an elegant white piano, enjoying waiter service, paying drink bills in sterling, dressed in our elegant best, while outside the thick glass window it's 30 degrees with high humidity, wild weather and storms gathering in the distance. We were floating past one of the last great untamed parts of the world. The huge rain forests are only yards away, containing dangerous and wonderful creatures and insects. Maybe less than five hundred yards away indigenous natives slept in wooden huts, dressed in furs and hunted daily to find food just to survive. They probably survived for a month on less money than I have just paid for two drinks.
You can view it as obscene that such differences in qualities of life exist in the first place or you can take the view that a shipload of tourists provides a vital income stream for the people of the Amazon and that our visit will do more good than harm. Tourists cannot, by law, buy products made from any endangered species or indeed anything that has ever lived. We were to exit the ship in three towns in the Amazon and had booked on controlled excursions for a limited number of hours. We could, if we so desired, go ashore to wander on our own but most tourists will simply visit shops close to the harbour. All bags are scanned and checked on return to the ship so the chances of passengers encouraging animal killing for the tourist trade is negligible.
We also had to surrender our passports before entering Brazilian waters several days ago. I’m confident that our imprint on the Amazon will be small and temporary.
However, given the danger in this tropical, steamy, hot environment I think the two thousand geriatric passengers are either incredibly brave or foolhardy to undertake this journey at their age and in their physical state. Margaret and I are viewed as relative youngsters on this floating old folk’s home. Even the staff appear to treat us differently. The waiters fuss around the older folk, carrying their trays for them, finding them seats, bringing drinks to their table. If tackling the buffet provides too much of a challenge for them then the Amazon rain forests will be a bridge too far.
I'm sure several will come to the same conclusion and will view the Amazon and its forests from the safety of the ship. And why not? Sure at their age, they can do whatever the hell they like for they may not have many more tomorrows to enjoy.
Day 34
Sunday 5th February.
Travelling up the Amazon River, Brazil.
It's another day on the ship as we continue our journey upstream to Manaus. The impact of the Amazon environment on the ship and its passengers has been minimal so far.
This morning, the breakfast buffet was the usual fayre except for the yellow and red striped fly that landed on the cereal counter.
Startled, I duly killed it with a swipe of a small packet of Special K breakfast cereal. You can't be too careful. Later, I was haunted by the thought that I might have just killed the last of a rare species. Talking of killing I’m feeling a bit anxious about my deadly actions yesterday. Have I overstepped the mark? Only time will tell but what’s done is done and there is no going back.
There was just time for another game or two of tennis while bizarrely, sailing up the Amazon River.
Then Margaret went to the religious service, led by the deputy captain, an Irish officer, while I attended the bridge class.
Today Brendan worked through the homework given two days ago. Jennifer went a bit quiet as she hurried to do it now.
Mabel’s seat was empty.
I suddenly felt a pang of guilt, but it passed as she really was a most irritating person. In the middle of playing a hand of cards, she’d start whispering loudly to herself as she carried out the computations and calculations in her head. I knew it was unfair handing her the poisoned sheets to distribute, but she had been placed on our table for a reason and I’d like to think this was it.
I sat there squinting at the homework sheet as I’d forgotten to bring along
my reading glasses and couldn’t see what was written on the page. In truth, I was too nervous to bother with the homework. I was focused on the outcome of yesterday’s deadly actions and waited to find out what degree of success I’d had.
I watched the time tick by on the library clock and waited for the hands to settle on 10:50. When they did I looked up at the doorway and found no one standing there. 10:53 and one person had arrived and stood waiting. 10:55 and there were three. They stood awkwardly talking quietly to each other. The noisy buzz of the previous morning was entirely absent. 10:58 and still there was just the three of them standing there, shuffling their feet. 11:00 and Brendan, suddenly aware that there was no pressing need to finish, let our class run on until 11:03. He was clearly surprised and double checked his watch a few times against the library clock. Both timekeepers agreed.
Where were the Intermediate Bridge Class?
He approached the three people clustered at the doorway and, as we left, he was promising to make up a foursome and play a few hands with them.