The Voyage of the Golden Handshake (36 page)

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.

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 hymnbooks 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 of 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.’

There was loud cheering at this announcement.

‘Also, they assure me that they will be back for the second leg of this voyage when as many of us as possible will join together to visit the other half of the world. Now dear friends, I ask you to raise your glasses and drink to the health and prosperity of Justin and Angela, Fennington and Dora.’

Glasses were raised and their health was drunk.

‘There will be no further speeches from me tonight,’ said the Captain. ‘May I wish you all a peaceful rest and all the best
until we meet again.’

‘Ee, what a lovely evening,’ sighed Alice when the couple had returned to their Balcony Suite. ‘We ought to make an effort to go to the weddings, Albert, and we really should try to come back.’

‘Aye,’ said Albert, as he removed his black boots, which were hurting him. He tied his pyjama trouser cord into a large bow and climbed into bed.

‘I think we must,’ he yawned, as he switched out the bedside light. ‘As long as we can afford it, mind. I think we must.’

THE END

Special thanks are due to: Jenny Coles who braved several storms and did all the donkey work on the script, Joan Deitch who was an excellent copy editor and my publisher Humfrey Hunter who was always encouraging and helped me avoid many a shipwreck.

Terry Waite CBE

Suffolk, 2015

Non-fiction

Taken on Trust

Footfalls in Memory

Travels with a Primate