Fatal Venture (8 page)

“You think day travel best, do you, sir? What about travelling by sleeper and saving two days?”

“I’m open to consider any properly worked out suggestions. This, again, would be ideal: and again perhaps impracticable. Suppose the ship is going south. Your tender leaves her some time in the morning and catches, for argument’s sake, a good train at Holyhead. It then hurries to Fishguard and meets the contingent which has left London in the morning. It puts them on board. It follows the ship and the next morning puts a party ashore to get the London train at Penzance, steams on to Plymouth and takes aboard those who have come from London that day. You see the idea?”

“I see it, sir. I think it’s splendid. But it would scarcely work for the Orkneys or the Hebrides.”

“I agree. But that’s where you come in. Your first job will be to make a scheme for the whole coast. You will first make a list of convenient ports with good rail connections, then you’d better go and see them all, so as to be sure that they’re suitable from the transshipment point of view. You follow me?”

“Yes, sir. Clearly.”

“You will get your expenses from Whitaker. Note that, Whitaker. Then make a provisional timetable for all ports at which the
Hellenic
might happen to call.”

“Am I limited to one tender?”

“No, you’re not limited to anything, though naturally I want to keep expenses down. But I want to run practically in all weathers. Therefore your tender must be a good size. There you’ll have to consult the captain. Don’t forget it may be too big for some of the smaller ports. Remember also that the
Hellenic
will come to the most convenient places to meet the tender, and can fill up time by making circuits.”

“Yes, sir, I think I’ve got all that clear. I’ll get on with it at once.”

“Then when that’s done you may consider stores. They’ll have to go out by the tender, and enough time will have to be allowed for transferring them to the ship.”

“What about coaling?”

“She uses oil fuel and you’ll have to arrange times for fuelling. The oil tanker and the tender might lie alongside at the same time, one forward and one aft. Or, if the weather permitted, at opposite sides. Something of that kind: think it out. You’ll have to discuss that also with the captain. Any other questions?”

“I don’t think so, sir.”

“Good. Then there’s the point Bristow raised, which may affect your arrangements. In order to avoid a gaming prosecution under the British law, we shall have to adopt certain precautions. Tell them, Meaker, will you?”

“Eh? Yes.” The solicitor woke up to life. “Formalities, you know.” He nodded, twinkling his little eyes. “Can’t risk being run in, eh? There are only three; all very simple. First, the ship must be foreign owned. Next, she must keep outside British territorial waters: means more than three miles from the coast. Third, if she should want to come into a British port, the gaming rooms must be sealed before she enters the three-mile limit, and kept sealed till she leaves it again. That clear, eh?”

Morrison nodded, but before he could speak Stott chimed in. “Naturally I don’t want the nuisance of sealing the rooms unnecessarily, so she must be kept as much as possible out of ports. That’s why you must use a tender and have stores and oil transferred at sea. Any questions about that?”

“No sir; it seems quite clear.”

Stott nodded. “Then we needn’t keep you, Morrison. Get ahead with your enquiries, and if you get up against any snags, let me know.”

Morrison would have liked to hear what was still to be discussed, but after so pointed a dismissal he dared not remain. He was disappointed at being left out of the inner counsels, but he felt he could later get any information he wanted from Bristow.

There now began one of the most delightful periods of his life. He was his own master, free from the routine of the office and able to plan without let or hindrance his comings and goings. His new job was at the same time his fascinating hobby. He enjoyed the planning and the travelling and the continual interviews with interesting people. In fact, he was as happy as the day was long.

The second applicant on Stott’s list, Captain Hardwick, had jumped at the chance of taking over the
Hellenic,
and had been duly appointed Master. Unlike Gladstone, he had no scruples about commanding a gambling ship. “I don’t do it myself,” he said; “can’t afford it. And my officers won’t do it, either. I’ll see to that. But the passengers can bankrupt themselves to their hearts’ content for all I care.”

Morrison met him to discuss his report, and liked what he saw of him. In appearance, Hardwick was not unlike Gladstone: the same tall figure and strong face, and with the same air of personality and command. But this man was younger and more approachable. He had been, recently promoted captain of one of the smaller P & O ships, and as his prospects with his own company were good, Morrison wondered why he had applied for the
Hellenic.
However, he had done so, and Morrison was glad he had got her, believing he would prove a pleasant man to work with. His first job had been to take the
Hellenic
round to the Clyde, where her alterations were already in progress.

Bristow, Morrison found, was growing slightly aloof. He was putting in a vast amount of legal work, principally with Meaker. Usually he was too busy to see Morrison when the latter called, and when they did meet he would only discuss details of Morrison’s job. Morrison was disappointed at this want of confidence. However, he reminded himself that the venture was Bristow’s and Stott’s, and that he was lucky to be in it even on these terms.

To his own immense satisfaction, he had solved the problem of transport to and from the ship when she was too far from London to be reached by rail. Stott had vetoed a longer journey than six hours – five in the train and one on a tender, which ruled out everywhere outside England. Morrison had suggested flying boats. Flying boats, he pointed out, could reach in three or four hours the furthest point to which the
Hellenic
would ever penetrate. The morning outward plane could make the return journey in the afternoon. Moreover, such a service would be popular. It would be considered up to date and incidentally would be the best advertisement that could be devised.

Captain Hardwick had next added his quota. He believed that he could design a floating pier which could be lowered from the
Hellenic,
and to which the flying boat could come alongside. This would enable passengers to walk direct from plane to ship, without using a launch.

Only on the question of cost was the flying boat idea doubtful. “It couldn’t be done with Bristow’s original scheme,” Stott declared, “but I think it could with mine. We’ll get out figures and see.”

After a report from his experts, he approved the suggestion. Indeed, he went further, deciding that the boats should be used irrespective of the position of the ship. Every morning, Sundays included, one or more would start from the nearest possible point to London, visit the ship wherever she lay, leave in the afternoon and arrive back at the starting point before dinner time.

After these thrilling experiences there came to Morrison a period of monotony. He and all concerned settled down to work. Time began to slip by. Weeks drew out into months, while the launching of the scheme drew nearer. By January Morrison’s plans and timetables were complete, and arrangements had been made for the hire and staffing of the flying boats. The bogus French company had been formed and had “bought” the
Hellenic.
Details of her French registration and certificate had been fixed up. The alterations to the ship were well in hand and she would shortly be ready for service. A large number of the officers and crew had been engaged, and more were being selected daily. Then towards the middle of March the first advertisement appeared.

This took the form of a short news paragraph saying that an enterprising French company were proposing to provide the British public with a double attraction: a chance of luxurious cruising to the beauty spots of their own islands, and an up-to-date and well-run casino, where those who wished might indulge in harmless gaming.

The paragraph appeared in all the principal papers and was followed by a flood of letters to the editor from persons all over the country. (Each received from two to five guineas for allowing his or her name and address to be attached to Gillow’s effort.) Most of the letters were complimentary, congratulating the French firm on its determination to confer this double benefit on the British, and arguing that if we in this country had not groaned under the most grandmotherly legislation known to history, we would long since have had our own casinos. A few – enough to dispel the suspicion of inspiration – took a rabid view of the evils of gambling, and asked what the Churches were doing to allow such a blatant misuse of the sea.

In reply to these letters, several other people wrote from genuine conviction, with the nett result that by the time the correspondence ceased, interest in the venture was both general and keen. This was kept alive by judiciously worded advertisements until at last, a month before the time, Tuesday, May 24th, was named as the opening date.

It had been Stott’s intention to issue invitations to a thousand of the great of the land to visit the ship for lunch and a short cruise on the day before the opening. But so many of those tentatively approached indicated a regretful inability to be present that he abandoned the idea. From his subsequent moodiness, Morrison saw that he was hard hit, and thought that for the first time the possibility of failure had seriously entered the man’s mind.

However, this doubt was speedily relieved by the avalanche of bookings which now began to pour in. It was soon evident that not only would the ship be full up on her first night, but that many applications would have to be refused. Stott again became jubilant and everywhere optimism reigned.

As each booking was registered, it became Morrison’s duty to arrange the journey from the passenger’s home to the ship. On this first occasion, when a greater number would be embarked than on any subsequent occasion, it was decided that the ship herself should berth at Southampton. Morrison had arranged with the Southern Railway to run three Pullman specials from Waterloo in the forenoon, the ship being timed to sail just after tea.

But if this day, May 24th, was to be the red-letter day of the scheme as a whole, Morrison’s came some fortnight earlier. He had been told on that day to close his temporary office in London and, with his staff of two, to move to his permanent establishment on the ship. To heighten the illusion of the French company, the
Hellenic
had been worked down from the Clyde and was now lying at Havre. Morrison, who had never been on a really big ship, was looking forward with intense eagerness to the experience.

Excitement prevented him from sleeping on the Southampton boat and he was on deck long before they drew in between the moles at Havre. There she was at anchor in the Avant-Port! She looked absolutely huge, dwarfing all the other shipping! And what grace she showed! What elegance! What lovely lines! His heart swelled, as if she were his own private possession. He noticed also that her name had been altered. She was now the
Hellénique
. A happy touch, that! There was ocular demonstration of the reality of her new nationality. Whimsically, he wondered how it would square with the sea superstition. Did the mere alteration from the English to the French form of the word constitute a technical change of name? He noted it as a point for use on board, should he ever run out of conversation.

As they passed across the harbour, he was joined by his clerk, Anderson, and secretary, Miss Pym, both apparently as excited as he was himself. At the wharf a launch, smart as a man-of-war’s, was waiting, and soon the three travellers were bobbing across the harbour over the tiny waves raised by a fresh breeze. The sun was bright and the dancing foam of the little white caps shone dazzlingly, a brilliance that Morrison took as a good omen for the venture.

The size of the ship overwhelmed him. He knew that a 47,000–ton liner must be big, but he had had no conception of how enormous a vessel of this tonnage really was. From her landing ladder she seemed really to tower above him like the proverbial cliff. Surely it must be all of a 100 feet up to that projection, a little forward of overhead, which he recognised as the starboard cab of the navigating bridge?

A minute more and he had climbed the ladder and passed in through her side port. At last a dream had been realised and he was on board.

The side port opened into a fair-sized vestibule, attractively decorated as if to offer a welcome to arriving guests. An alert-looking steward was hovering in the background. Morrison hailed him.

“I’m Mr Morrison, your transport officer,” he explained, “and these are my assistants. Miss Pym and Mr Anderson. Can you show us to our quarters?”

“Certainly, sir. Come this way.”

They went up three decks in a lift, and, after walking along some 100 yards of spacious alleyway, came to an alcove in which was a door labelled “Transport Officer.” It led into a small but well-furnished office divided into two parts by a counter. It was a replica on a tiny scale of the Boscombe Agency’s headquarters, and Morrison felt that when he had filled his racks with shore excursion leaflets and hung some beauty spot pictures on the walls, he would feel completely at home. Somehow he had not expected the telephone, but when he remembered that he was now about to live in the equivalent of a small town, it did not seem so out of place.

A door led from the office to his private cabin. With this latter he was enchanted. Though it was perhaps 50 feet from daylight – indeed he imagined it must be pretty near the centre of the ship – it was well lit and ventilated. It was much roomier than he had anticipated and was furnished as a bed-sitting room, with a couple of armchairs, an electric fire, a folding wash-basin and plenty of shelves. Here also was a telephone, and he presently learned that every cabin had one.