Murder on Board

by Mark Rice

  We exited the theatre and went out onto the outside promenade deck where the brown Amazon river was sweeping powerfully past the stationary ship. The skyline was hidden by mist but was periodically lit up by distant lightning that flashed across the sky but was never heard. Along the deck, beetles, giant moths and butterflies landed on the white ship walls. As we walked I could hear crickets rubbing their legs somewhere nearby. They must be on the ship.

  Day 38

  Thursday 9th February.

  Santarem, Amazon, Brazil.

  The day is much cooler than we've experienced for a while. It's cloudy and 26 degrees with a thirty per cent risk of showers.

  Santarem is five hundred and sixty miles from the open sea, has a population of 150,000 and like Manaus depends on the air and river for travelling as the roads are in a poor state. It's located at a point where the clear blue Tapajos River meets the Amazon River, both flowing in a parallel journey of colours before merging about a mile downstream.

  We rose late letting the excursions get away which also meant that the restaurants were quieter than normal. We found seats next to Larry, from the Entertainments team. He seemed to be eating his breakfast in a smart new suit and I watched Margaret’s eyes hone in on Larry’s yoke dripping from a boiled egg that came within inches of dribbling on his black jacket as it fell from his bread.

  "Why the suit Barry?" Margaret asked.

  He took his head out of the newspaper he was reading and answered "There is a fire drill happening in a few minutes and as I'm an officer I must attend it wearing my work clothes."

  “So in a real fire situation would you have to return to your cabin for a life jacket and don your finest suit before heading for the muster station? Margaret probed further.

  He smiled weakly and didn’t reply other than to stick his head back into his newspaper. Our conversation was at an end.

  “Did you know Richard Chad?” I asked. It was one of those stupid moments when I thought I was just asking myself a question but then heard myself actually asking it out loud. This time he jerked his head up and stared at me with a new interest. Even Margaret looked up.

  “Yes, I knew Richard. What about him?” Larry asked.

  “Oh, nothing Larry.”I started to backpedal and found myself stuttering to buy time while I thought my way out of this one. “I heard one of the stewards say that he’d gone missing on this cruise and wondered if there was an update.”

  Larry thought for a minute and then replied “No, I don’t think he’s been found yet. I’ve gotta say it’s all a bit strange. I had to take over some of his duties and I really thought he’d reappear but he never did.”

  I nodded my thanks and Larry settled back down to enjoy the rest of his breakfast. I couldn’t help noticing he’d dropped some of the yellow yoke on his breast pocket as it had journeyed to his mouth. Margaret had spotted it too but we left him in blissful ignorance.

  Glancing down from the top deck, we saw the independent passengers proceed on foot along the one hundred-yard pier and turn right past a cluster of gift stalls and out of the harbour complex. Beyond, a row of taxis sat in the morning sun awaiting occupants.

  We walked down the gangplank, with a bag carrying maps and water. We past a three-storey ship that was tied up and getting ready to depart. On the upper deck hung hundreds of hammocks with people already lying in them. Other women sat next to the hammocks chatting away to their occupants. They all smiled and waved at us. On the lower deck, three big storage areas were filled with bananas and bags of apples and other fruits.

  We shared a taxi into town with another couple and were dropped near an Information Centre located along the harbour front. We walked over to it and I found half a dozen guys hanging about with identification pouches slung from their necks.

  One of the older men stepped forward and spoke with us in English."We've run out of maps in English, so here are some in Portuguese!"

  I thanked him and took the map.

  "You want Wi-Fi?" he asked.

  "Yes, please." Margaret answered.

  He pointed to a younger man beside him. "Go with this guy, he’ll take you to the London Hotel and get you free Wi-Fi."

  We did as he suggested and the young man did all the talking at the hotel when we reached it. Wearing his Tourist Information identification, he took us up to the top floor, through glass doors and out onto a huge balcony which provided a breathtaking view of the large harbour. The heat was intense but the view was so good I stayed out there for a while. He handed Margaret the password for the Wi-Fi and excitedly, she rang home.

  Once fed and watered we stepped out and into the streets containing the by now usual mix of shops and high pavements. We walked through the market located in a square in front of a beautiful blue and white cathedral but there were few vendors taking any interest in us and fewer still tourists. We set about walking back to the ship and passed many shops, restaurants and DIY stores on the land side of the road. On the harbour side hundreds of pretty double-decker boats were moored many with people living on them.

  We spotted Bill and Joan slightly ahead of us. They'd spotted a couple of large iguanas scurrying between the harbour rocks which rose above the water line. One big yellow iguana just stared right back at us and flicked his tongue menacingly.

  We reached a fish market jutting out into the harbour, and discovered that it was made of wood and stood on stilts. The market was now closed but an enterprising group of local men were earning good money, by taking a dollar off every tourist and in return tossing a piece of fish, attached to a string line, out into the water where pink and grey dolphins swam about twenty feet away. There were four dolphins feeding today and they generally got the fish after three casts of the string. I looked around the building while Margaret queued for dolphin feeding. Several cranes stood on the deserted tables that lined the covered market and at first, I thought they were statues, so still did they stand. I was quite startled when one of the birds suddenly moved and flew off.

  Back on board we ate in the buffet restaurant and sat by the pool. The clouds arrived and went. We took a swim in the pool and then changed to watch the ship sail away from Santarem, probably the friendliest people and the nicest town of the three we’d visited in the Amazon on this cruise.

  Dinner was attended by the full complement and the vibrations had also returned, particularly at my end of the table where Ali had laid an extra table cloth to try and dull the effects.

  At the Gaiety Theatre Gerard Benny, another ex-West End singer, delivered his selection of songs. It’s amazing just how blasé we have become with night after night of entertainment and formal dining. There is some shock awaiting us on our return when a toasted cheese is served up for tea with a comment of “that’s your lot. If you want anything else you’ll have to make it yourself.”

  This evening we chatted at length to Bill and Joan and I was amazed to hear their experiences of rude behaviour from some of the other passengers. Bill reckoned it was his East End accent that prompted the behaviour. “It's snobbery,” he said.

  “Maybe so but it’s still out of order. Point them out to me.” I insisted but he declined.

  “Forget it mate,” he said. “I already have.”

  At the other end of the ship Robin Essot and Brian Social are performing under the name of The International Piano Duo, an act where two pianists share one piano. They play seated on separate stools and seem to command control of separate ends of the keyboard, alternating their seats for different numbers. They played music by Brahms, Dvorak alongside poignant miniatures by Schubert and Faure.

  I had hoped their playing would include some humorous moments when they tried to play notes located well within the other's part of the keyboard but not so. When such moments arose they simply facilitated each other by swapping seats and the result was some fine music to savour.

  Day 39

  Friday 10th February.

  Leaving the Amazon River, Brazil.

  Today i
s the first of five days at sea as we sail to St Vincent on Cape Verdi. We were due to arrive on Wednesday for the briefest of stays, leaving that very same afternoon.

  We ate breakfast and, despite windy conditions, we got two games of tennis in until Margaret admitted she was exhausted and we stopped. She said she thought the anti-malaria tablets were affecting her.

  She went directly to the beginner’s bridge class while I showered and then joined her there. I anxiously awaited Mabel’s arrival but her absence made my morning. It looks like she had succumbed to the poison and I was able to relax as the connection between me and those deadly A4 sheets has now been severed forever. Brendan joined our table again to make up a foursome.

  As we finished with the class, I noticed again, the absence of the majority of the intermediate class. Brendan invited anyone who wanted, to stay on for the next class. He got a few takers. I left the small gathering setting up on two tables.

  As promised I arrived at the tennis court at 11:00 but there was no sign of Bill. Another four players are on the court so I walked away and joined Jennifer and Margaret in the Palace restaurant where we chatted over coffee.

  A little while later, I joined the tenor men for the choir rehearsal. David announced he had four new songs to distribute and promptly launched into them. Konchek, an elderly man who sat nearby in the tenor’s section on previous days, sat with us today and I welcomed him in. He stood behind my right shoulder and I didn’t hear a peep out of him. Eventually, I glanced over mid-song and his lips were moving but not much was coming out. Possibly praying I thought.

  After lunch we sat beside the pool at the stern of the ship and spoke with Jimmy, whom we hadn't seen anything of for quite a while. Apparently, Paula had further breathing issues and struggled to clear air out of her lungs. The ship’s doctor wanted her hospitalised in Manaus and she was only still onboard because Jimmy and Paula signed a disclaimer for Octavian Cruises against any death or insurance claim. While we chatted, Paula lay on a sun lounger nearby. Jimmy reckoned she wasn't up to chatting, so I left her alone.

  The Crossing of the Line Ceremony is held every time SS Azara crosses the equator and its an initiation rite for sailors who have never before crossed the equator. The Entertainments team had scheduled the ceremony for 14:00 at the Riviera pool.

  Laura, the Entertainments Manager joined King Neptune on chairs located on the stage behind the pool. Before them, two teams were to fight it out over five rounds for the right of SS Azara to cross over into the Northern hemisphere.

  King Neptune's team of Shellbacks were black dressed pirates and competed with white uniformed ships officers called Pollywogs, in a series of games held around the pool. The sailors who have already crossed the equator are called Shellbacks and the rigged contest ended in a points tie.

  Meanwhile during the contest, the weather turned nasty. Torrential rain began hammering down on the deck scattering passengers in all directions. We stayed until the end when the ship’s team captain defeated his opposite number by knocking him off the greasy pole straddling the pool and into the water. Both teams and the adjudicator then hopped in the nearby hot tub and were covered by buckets of colourful paint. The ship was now able to sail on to Southampton!

  We visited our cabin and shed the wet shoes and clothes. Together we headed upstairs to the Hawks Inn to play cards and read. Entering the lounge, I noticed a large number attending the Water Colours with Diane painting class, a daily occurrence while at sea.

  Similarly, on the other side of the lounge, ran the Craft Workshop with Janet Nichols. Both occur in the morning and are repeated in the afternoon.

  We played a hand of cards and discussed possible strategies but I noticed we had attracted filthy looks from a man reading a book nearby. We lowered our voices but Margaret was peeved.

  "It's not a library," she hissed before closing her eyes and going to sleep in the comfortable chair.

  It certainly sounded like a library with the rain beating down on the window outside and a silence that had covered the lounge like a blanket inside. It stayed wet and cloudy for the rest of the afternoon. About 17:00, the Inspiration music group arrived and carried out a sound check for their pre-dinner show and we trotted off to change our clothes.

  Tonight’s the food at dinner was delicious and we went cold turkey, without wine, for the first night in weeks. When the evening acts were discussed Rose and Roger thought they’d seen John Stevens previously and were not up for seeing him tonight. "Too many singers singing the same bloody songs," said Roger sourly.

  At the Gaiety Theatre John Stevens, a mature, gentlemen who was seventy-five, if he was a day, stepped on stage in a smart black suit and red handkerchief in his breast pocket. From the word go he showed why we should give him a chance to impress. He displayed his sharply honed voice and stage manner and was the consummate professional.

  The SS Azara Orchestra really swung with his version of Summertime. Hairs rose on the back of my neck. He really threw the kitchen sink at the audience and they responded with a standing ovation.

  We chatted briefly after the show as he stood by the CD stand. He told us he’d taken ill upon boarding the ship but you couldn’t see a trace of it tonight. John was the best performer so far. I was looking forward to his Sinatra Tribute show coming up in a few days time.

  We walked down to the Pacific Lounge where the Topstars were repeating their ABBA tribute show Thank You for the Music. They were exhausting to watch and the quick costume changes, clever choreography and great dancing made the show work.

  In Tiffany’s Bar later that night we saw Jimmy, Paula and Betty seated in the plush lounge and joined them.

  “Jimmy told you what happened to me in Manaus when they tried to get me off the cruise?” Paula said when we had taken our seats. We nodded.

  “The ships doctor tried everything for me after I took bad. I was kept three days in intensive care but they still couldn’t get to the bottom of my problem. I’d been fine for the first few weeks of the cruise and then I had to have the oxygen tank for a week but I got over that didn’t I Jimmy?” She fell back into her seat, exhausted from the effort put into talking. She gestured him to continue.

  “You did love” he said. He turned to us and spoke “She was as bright as a button up until the week before we entered the Amazon river. It all kicked off again with Paula struggling for breath, having heart palpitations and then really vivid scary dreams at night. The ships medics were very good and managed to stabilise her condition but the ship’s doctor and the other senior officers were putting pressure on us to disembark in Manaus. It was touch and go but we managed to sign the forms and get to stay on the ship. Then two days ago I realised that her bad turn coincided with her starting to take the anti-malaria tablets. So we stopped taking those and she’s getting better in leaps and bounds.”

  Paula leaned forward again. "I'm on enough tablets as it is," she said firmly. Margaret patted her knee and Paula held Margaret’s hand tightly.

  "I can't die so far away from my kids and grandchildren.” Tears welled in her eyes. “And I'm not having Jimmy with his heart issues landed with me and our bags thousands of miles from home in a third world country. The humidity would kill me anyway."

  The conversation was interrupted by the piano player who called over to Jimmy to sing a song and Paula urged him to stand up and do so. “Sing for me” she whispered to him.

  After a moderate show of resistance he rose to his feet and sang If I Were a Rich Man.

  "He's got a lovely singing voice," Paula said, and he did.

  Jimmy, a slight bespectacled man, fuelled by a gin and tonic or two sang in an easy, steady voice and we all joined in the chorus.

  The three of them headed for bed shortly afterwards, Jimmy wheeling Paula to their cabin and Betty following with her mobility frame.

  Margaret and I ordered another drink, played some cards and thanked our lucky stars we were not living life in their shoes.

  Day 40

/>   Saturday 11th February.

  Refuelling in the Para river en route to open sea.

  We were now on the Para River, a tributary of the Amazon River and heading for Bolem to refuel. This would take four to six hours. The information channel informed us that there was a high chance of rain. Temperature wise, it was 27-29 degrees on the river today.

  Breakfast was followed by tennis and then into the beginner’s bridge class. I knew, looking at Brendan’s wife, Shirley, that something was wrong. She told us Brendan was ill and she was standing in for him. I could see she’d been crying and that there was more to it than she was saying. Her eyes were red and her hands trembled. Normally she sat behind Brendan and read a book or prepared hands of cards for distributing. I’d never seen her take a class.

  “We will, from now on, just play games,” she announced. Our first game was in its infancy when I summoned Shirley over. I needed her help. She basically took over my hand and guided me to victory. She was counting the cards, calculating who had what, was prepared to lose a few tricks and generally she controlled the game. I was too nervous with her beside me to actually engage the brain, even for a moment.

  When it was all over I turned to Shirley. “What’s up with Brendan? I hope he’s not too ill?”

  She seemed relieved to be able to talk to someone about it and out it came. “He’s not really ill. He was interviewed by a ship’s officer last night, about the spate of deaths and illnesses that have decimated his class.”

  I was shocked and sat glued to my seat trying not to show my horror.

  “Why did they come to him?” Margaret probed innocently.

  “Well Brendan had gone to the ship’s captain two days’ ago when he found that a very poor turn-out of his bridge class attendees had coincided with the food poisoning outbreak. Brendan actually said to the captain there may be some link between the absentee card players and the illnesses but his suggestion was dismissed at the time.”