Fatal Venture (7 page)

Further negotiations then took place through the principals’ respective solicitors. Stott’s position was that if an action for obtaining money, to wit the ship, under false pretences was brought, he would prosecute Malthus for stealing his idea. The position eventually was tacitly accepted as stalemate by Malthus, though Stott claimed to have won the match. Malthus replied to this that Stott might have won the first round, but that his turn would quickly come. Malthus, indeed, was very outspoken. Bristow was able to find no less than five distinct witnesses who had heard him swear that if he couldn’t get legal redress, he would take the law into his own hands. He would do Stott in, even if he choked him with his bare hands and swung for it.

So far as Morrison was concerned, things then began to move. Bristow appeared with a revised agreement which guaranteed him his 10 percent, of the net profits of the scheme, as well as his £500 a year all found. Further, Morrison was to resign as soon as possible from the Agency, his new salary starting on the date the old one ceased. His work would be general assistance with the transport side of the venture and he would carry on in a suite of offices which Stott had rented.

With intense eagerness, Morrison looked forward to this new phase of his life.

Morrison found the days during which he worked his notice as irksome as any he had ever experienced. Faced with a revolution in his life, the common round and the daily task assumed monstrous proportions of distaste. His mind, full of coming excitements and delights, refused to concentrate on mere mundane matters, such as the services between Harwich and Flushing or the amount of free luggage allowed on French railways. He longed to fling out of the office, shouting to the world that his term of servitude was over.

The news that the
Hellenic
had been sold, not for breaking up but for summer cruising, revived public interest in the great ship. The papers were full of stories of her career: how at one time in her second year of life she had held the Blue Riband of the Atlantic; how she had stood by a foundering Greek tanker in a blizzard, and by the exercise of superhuman skill and courage, together with a liberal use of oil, had rescued her entire crew; how she had carried through the gales of the dreaded Western Ocean kings and potentates, film stars and millionaires, not to mention hundreds of thousands of smaller fry, all without the loss of a single life. She had been a popular ship, holding an established place in the public regard, as had the old
Mauretania
before her. Sentimentalists rejoiced that her approaching dissolution was postponed and amateur strategists wrote letters to the papers advising that she be kept available for the transport of troops in time of war.

For the first three days after leaving the Agency, Morrison found little to do, but on the fourth there came a summons to a conference in the new offices.

He was early at the rendezvous. It was soon evident that the meeting was to be of importance. Stott was there, barking out questions and directions. Bristow, arranging papers, was obviously trying to hide both his annoyance and his excitement, and not entirely succeeding in either. Four other men were present, two middle-aged and two elderly. One of the elder was a short, stout fellow with a broad smile and a hearty manner. His eyes were small like a pig’s and twinkled with such shrewdness that Morrison felt he was a man to be watched. This was Meaker, Stott’s solicitor. The other older man was tall and well built, with good features, a firm mouth, and the air of one who expects to be first in whatever society he may find himself. Royal Navy Reserve, Morrison speculated, and soon he found he was correct. The man was Captain Gladstone, and he was going to take command of the
Hellenic
. Both younger men were pleasant-looking and seemed decent and quietly efficient. One was Gillow, Stott’s advertising manager, the other Whitaker, a private secretary, brought apparently to act as secretary to the meeting.

Morrison was briefly introduced as the man who was going to manage transport to and from the ship, and all having taken their places round the table, the proceedings opened.

Stott, Morrison quickly saw, was a good chairman. He wasted no time with preliminaries, but came plump to business with his first phrase. His remarks were delivered in a quiet but forceful tone and with greater courtesy than Morrison had somehow expected.

“We have met,” he began, “at the offset of an undertaking which we hope may be profitable to all of us, and our first business is to make sure that all of us are in sympathy with the policy to be adopted. This is obviously necessary for everyone who signs any hard and fast agreement to become associated with it. I need scarcely add the converse. Anyone who is not satisfied with our proposals should avoid service with us.” As Stott ended he looked gravely and questioningly at Captain Gladstone, Bristow and Morrison, as if he doubted their right to be there.

The words and gesture caused Morrison some surprise as well as a slight feeling of misgiving. There surely could be no question either as to policy or the desire of all present to carry it out? Wasn’t that the very purpose for which they were assembled? He glanced at Bristow and saw the same doubt reflected in his expression.

“As you know,” went on Stott, “the idea of buying a big ship which would otherwise be broken up, and using her for cruising round the British Isles, is due entirely to Bristow, and with Morrison’s help he put his case very admirably before me. I thought there was something in it, though not as much as he suggested. I therefore agreed to think over the proposal and give a decision later. That decision, if favourable, would involve an agreement to bear the entire cost of the enterprise, and therefore to own it, as I should not be interested in anything less than control. I signed an agreement with Bristow as to his share in the profits, should the affair materialise, and the remuneration of the other four has been mutually agreed on – that is, provided they still wish to act.

“As I expected, the reports of the experts to whom I submitted the scheme were favourable, but not nearly so favourable as were Bristow’s figures. I considered the matter carefully, and had almost decided not to touch it, when a further idea occurred to me, and one which I thought would ensure its success. Here I intended to make new enquiries and get out fresh figures, but an unfortunate incident of which you are all aware forced my hand, and I had to buy before my investigations were complete. However, they have now been finished, and I may say that the result is wholly satisfactory. I am now convinced that, as modified, the venture is likely to prove highly profitable. I may also point out that the
Hellenic
is now my property and that I have a right to use her as I think fit. Further, I think we all know that no other ship of similar type is likely to be on the market for some years.”

Stott spoke rather grimly and both words and tone added to Morrison’s surprise and apprehension. However, before he could analyse his impressions, Stott resumed: “This new idea will involve certain departures from the original plans. Bristow intended the cruise for the man in the street: the man who could pay a moderate fare for perhaps a week, or two. I have changed that. The appeal will now be to the wealthy and they will pay through the nose for their cabins. The
Hellenic
was built to carry four thousand passengers, but I am restricting her to eighteen hundred, all first class, so that there may be ample room for everyone to be comfortable. Every cabin will now have a bathroom, and at least half will have private sitting rooms also. That is my first alteration. I may say also that I do not expect her ever to be quite full up.

“The second alteration is that instead of running for the six summer months, she will cruise during the entire year. This will practically double our profits. In winter she will give up calls to outlying islands or exposed portions of the coast and confine herself to the Irish Sea, the Channel and other sheltered areas. She may, moreover, anchor in these areas for long spells, still further lowering her running costs.”

Morrison was now listening with stupefaction. Had it not been for Stott’s quiet, businesslike manner, he would have supposed the man had gone off his head. His statement sounded completely mad. Would anyone who could afford to go round the world be bothered to steam round the British coast, even if he had a private bath and sitting room? The small people who might have done it would now be debarred by the cost. And would anyone who could stay at home cruise in the Irish Sea in winter? Maddest of all, would anyone who could get ashore remain on a ship
anchored
off the coast, in cold weather certainly, and perhaps in wind or rain or fog as well? It was inexplicable.

A glance at his companions showed that their thoughts were travelling in the same direction as his own, all except Whitaker’s, who simply looked amused. But Bristow and Gillow were obviously as puzzled as he was, and Gladstone’s lips had gone into a thin line which suggested that if he disapproved the explanation, he would make the fact clear beyond possibility of error. It was Gladstone who spoke first.

“I don’t think, sir,” he said politely but with firmness, “that you can stop there. I think you must tell us the reason of these changes.”

Stott nodded. “I am about to do so. It’s for that purpose that we are met. I propose, or rather I am arranging, that the
Hellenic
will be a floating casino: a gambling ship.”

All four of his hearers stared at him, but before any of them could speak, Stott continued.

“I have already entered into a provisional agreement with the Casino authorities at Monte Plage. The ship will be altered to provide the required gaming rooms, and the Casino will supply the necessary manager and croupiers, as well as giving general help. The gambling will be carried out with scrupulous care – in fact, as impeccably as at Monte Plage itself. It’s a sport that English people have long wanted to have at home, and now they’re going to get it.”

For some moments there was silence and then the reactions of the little audience became vocal. In spite of his own participation, Morrison was interested in their variety.

Bristow’s face was glowing. “Magnificent!” he cried enthusiastically. “A stroke of genius! That’s the finishing touch that was needed to turn the thing into an absolute gold mine! Congratulations, Mr Stott!”

Stott seemed pleased. “Then you’re with me, Bristow?” he enquired, rather unnecessarily, Morrison thought.

“With you? Can you ask it?” His face changed suddenly. “But what about the law, sir? I’m afraid they’d stop us.”

“Meaker has got round that for us,” Stott answered. “We’ll come to it in turn.”

“Then I’m with you up to the hilt.”

“Good,” Stott returned. “And you, Gillow?”

“To the hilt also, sir,” the advertising manager protested, though with less enthusiasm.

“Good,” Stott repeated. “And what about you. Captain? Or,” he went on after a glance at Gladstone’s face, “perhaps you don’t care to express an opinion? It won’t affect your side of the affair, you know.”

The captain was frowning and his mouth had become an even narrower line. “It won’t affect the navigation, I agree. Mr Stott,” he answered in a low but rather sharp voice, “but I’ll take the liberty of answering your question all the same. To be candid, I don’t like your idea and I’ll have nothing to do with it. Further, I think you owe me an apology for assuming that I would captain your gambling hell, and I’ll wait to hear it before wishing you ‘Good morning’.”

Morrison held his breath, expecting an outburst. But Stott merely smiled sardonically. “You have it, captain,” he answered in a slightly mocking tone, with a wide gesture as if to make the apology inclusive. “You have it now. If you don’t like my idea, I can assure you the loss is mine.”

Gladstone got up. “Then the matter is satisfactorily closed between us. Good morning, Mr Stott. I’m – I’m” – he hesitated, then his good manners triumphed – “sorry that our association has ended in this way.” He bowed to the company and disappeared.

Stott smiled at the closed door. “A good man, but crotchety. We’re well rid of him. Ring up the second on the list, Whitaker. Captain Hardwick, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” The Secretary made a note.

Stott turned to Morrison. “Now, Morrison, we’ve had two opinions in this matter. What’s yours? Do you wish to stay or leave us?”

For a moment Morrison hesitated. He made no pretence to stricter morals than other people, yet he didn’t like the idea that he would be helping to carry on a gambling hell. What would he feel like, he thought, if he learnt that his livelihood had brought someone else to suicide?

Then he told himself that such ideas were morbid. If there were suicides, it would not be his fault. Besides, not only had he no other job, but nowhere else could he get another like this. He mustn’t be a sentimental fool.

The others had noticed his doubt, and now he hastened to assure Stott of his loyalty. He thought Stott’s expression slightly mocking as he nodded, while Bristow’s glare, which had been fixed on him in surprise and indignation, relaxed. Morrison saw he had had a narrow escape. A little more delay and he might have antagonised both men and perhaps permanently damaged his prospects.

“A nuisance about Gladstone,” Stott observed, passing from the subject. “We’ll be held up now till we can get Hardwick, unless,” he added with scorn, “his old maid’s conscience or his damned stuck-up pride prevents his – er –
acceptances
” – he stressed the word – “of the job. But you, Morrison, can begin work. You’ll have to check your results with the new captain, but, still, you can do a good deal yourself.”

“I’d be glad to get busy, sir.”

“Very well. I’ll take you first, and then you can get away. Your job will be to arrange transport between the passengers’ homes and the ship. I’ll tell you briefly what I have in mind, though it won’t work as I’m stating it. You’ll have to devise modifications to make it work. You follow?”

“I follow, sir.”

“Good. Then I want the ship during the summer – it’ll be the summer before we can put her on – to cruise to all the best bits of coast from the scenic or general interest points of view: and you’ll have to find out what those are. If possible, I’d like to include the Orkneys and Shetlands, the Hebrides and the west coast of Ireland.
But
, I want also a frequent connection to and from London, a daily connection, if possible. It would be ideal, for instance, if there was a good train leaving London about ten in the morning which would reach the ship that day, and a train back from the ship arriving in Town about six in the evening.”