The Voyage of the Golden Handshake (5 page)

Considering all the things that might have gone wrong, the boarding itself went reasonably well. There was a nervous moment when the Belle responsible for checking the names of passengers and handing them their plastic identification card, got hopelessly muddled due to the fact that she had left her reading glasses at home and was operating with a mixture of guesswork and assistance from Radley Duvet and Enzo Bigatoni, both of whom confused the situation considerably. Enzo, who for practice had attempted to memorise names from the London Telephone Directory before the passenger-list was known, now found that the telephone-list was all that he could remember! Radley simply did not have a clue and eventually it fell to Harry to take over the operation and relieve a senior Scout from luggage duties to deal out the cards.

When passengers had walked well over a mile from the tent to the ship, a further complication occurred as the deckhand assigned to operate the onboard check-in system found that none of the cards would work. Apparently Radley had left his new iPad on top of the box of plastic, with the result that they
had all been neutralised by the magnet in the computer. A fresh supply of cards would have to be ordered, and as that would take several hours, passengers boarded with no electronic identification. Names were scribbled on a writing pad by an Indian crew member whose command of English was limited. Throughout the voyage, therefore, some passengers were never properly identified.

Given that Mrs Alice Hardcastle had experienced such an upset on alighting from her carriage the Admiral, gallant to the last, secured a place for her and her husband on the little train that ran the length of the pier, and so the couple were able to ride in state to occupy their suite. This caused a slight disturbance among other passengers who were required to walk, and an occasional scuffle broke out as tired cruisers attempted to secure a seat on the crowded transport.

The arrival of Councillor Paddy Patterson and his life-partner, Bernie Bollinger, was treated with the respect that it certainly deserved. The Scouts and the Belles were lined up on the Promenade, and just inside the tent the senior staff members were assembled in their white dress uniforms. As Captain Sparda had not yet retrieved his trousers, he had to remain partially hidden behind a trestle table, but he was now well accustomed to this. Regrettably it meant that he could not be with the Admiral outside to be one of the first to welcome the distinguished visitors as the tennis shorts, whilst respectable, were not
entirely in keeping with such an event.

The Admiral, with Lady Felicity by his side, took up his position, and waited. Eventually, some twenty minutes after the expected time of arrival, an ancient motor vehicle pulled up and from out of the rear seat emerged the civic partnership, accompanied by a reverend gentleman whom they identified as Justin Longparish their chaplain. Councillor Paddy had donned his pinstriped suit and best purple shirt for the occasion, and alongside the cleric might well have been mis-identified as a Bishop. In fact, he was referred to as ‘My Lord,’ by the Captain, when the introductions were taking place, which flattered him considerably. Bernie wore a bright pink shirt and a canary yellow bow-tie along with a rowing blazer of kaleidoscopic hue. The two made a delightful couple and greatly impressed the Belles.

Once the tent party had been introduced, the Admiral led the newcomers towards the train, where they were introduced to the driver. As the engine-driver had been at school with Bernie and Paddy, and had a low regard for both, this meeting was rather abrupt. They were ushered by the Admiral into a minute compartment within which the Belles had thoughtfully placed several plump velvet cushions which, when sat on, elevated the party to a dangerous height. Had there been any bends on the line, the whole group would have been in grave danger of being tipped out. In this style they made their ceremonial way to the gangway.

There were very few people indeed who were privy to the fact that the
Golden Handshake
had previously been a cattle and horse transporter. Visitors had remarked on occasions that there seemed to be a slight odour of the equine kingdom, but this was brushed aside by Harry, who informed them that the ship had transported members of the Olympic Equestrian Team and that leather saddles, and other items of equipment carried by the competitors, tended to leave behind their own aroma.

Once safely up the gangway, the two guests were both seen to wrinkle their noses and glance at each other. The Admiral quickly moved them on into what had been the cattle-holding area and was now converted into a ballroom. A stage had been erected at one end and on it was a lectern and microphone. Hanging from the rather low ceiling was a banner which read:
Golden Handshake World Cruise - Welcome.

The room was nearly full of passengers, some of whom had managed to find a seat. Most stood around clutching yet another beaker of coloured liquid supplied by the ever-thoughtful Hotel Director. When the stage party entered, consisting of the Admiral and Lady Harrington, Paddy Patterson, Bernie Bollinger, Mr Harry Parkhurst, Captain Peché Sparda (now thankfully reunited with a new pair of trousers), Enzo Bigatoni and last, but certainly not least, Mr Radley Duvet, the whole room stood as though it was a school assembly.

As Cruise Director it was Enzo’s responsibility to host the
proceedings. He stepped carefully towards the lectern and it appeared as though he was speaking, although not a sound emanated from the equipment in the room.

‘Can’t hear!’ cried a voice from the floor. ‘Speak up!’ urged another.

Enzo tried the time-honoured technique of tapping the microphone with his forefinger, to no avail. A technician appeared in the wings and began a crouched run towards the centre of the stage. Why he crouched no one knew as he was not obscuring the vision of anyone, but again technicians always do a crouched run when having to take the stage in an emergency and he was simply following tradition. He produced a large screwdriver and there was a sharp retort when sparks flew from Enzo’s hand-mike, which he promptly dropped. Another crouching technician appeared from the opposite side carrying a megaphone which he thrust into the empty hands of Enzo and left the stage.

‘Welcome everybody,’ began the Cruise Director, bellowing down the ship’s hailer. ‘Welcome to the World Cruise of the
Golden Handshake.’

This was to be the cue for one of the technical staff to start a gramophone record of the Band of the Royal Marines playing the National Anthem. Unfortunately, everyone had forgotten that the said gramophone had been pressed into urgent service the previous evening at the reception - and no one had thought
to bring it to the ship. There was an awkward pause before the Admiral started to sing and everyone else joined in. At the end of the first verse several began to launch into the next stanza, but Enzo brought them to a ragged halt by holding one hand high in the air and waving it furiously.

‘Golden Cruisers,’ he intoned, ‘may I present to you the Commandant of the Fleet and the Owner of the Company, Rear Admiral Benbow Harrington, Retired, accompanied by his charming wife Lady Felicity Harrington.’

The Admiral stepped forward and was handed the hailer by Enzo. His speech, which detailed the history of the company and the excellent safety record of the ships, was long. The passengers, many of whom had travelled a great distance and had had to walk the length of the pier, in addition showed signs of flagging. Most of them had yet to be shown to their Suites, and many were worried about being reunited with their luggage. All they wanted was a cup of tea and a period of calm. Finally he concluded his opening words and introduced his honoured guest, Councillor Paddy Patterson, who, he said, would give the official speech inaugurating the World Cruise.

Councillor Paddy rose from his seat and, as he did so, received a whispered word of encouragement from his consort Bernie, he of the pink shirt and yellow dickie bow. He was just about to begin speaking when there was a slight commotion from the wings and a somewhat dishevelled clerical figure
appeared. As the Councillors’ chaplain had not been introduced, few people had the slightest idea who he was and what he was doing on the platform. It transpired that he had been taken on a tour of the ship and had been busy placing religious tracts in each cabin. He would have liked to have deposited Bibles but, as he was single-handed, he could not manage the weight and so contented himself with a document which invited the reader to become a Sunbeam for Jesus. Alas, the chaplain had strayed into the crew’s quarters and was apprehended whilst inserting a document in the bedside drawer of the chief greaser. Thinking that he was being robbed, the greaser set about the unfortunate cleric and locked him in the oil storage room where he languished until he was released when it was noticed by one of the Councillors’ party that he was missing.

Councillor Paddy gave him a long hard stare then turned his attention to the megaphone.

‘We are delighted to be here today. It is an honour for me to be invited to inaugurate this great world cruise. It is an honour for Southend and for my Council in the County. Er, it is an honour indeed … Um, an honour … Uh, indeed … Yes, it is … An honour.’

Consort Bernie glanced at his partner with a worried look on his face. This was not going as smoothly as it had this morning when they had rehearsed the speech in front of the bathroom mirror. Perhaps dear Paddy had mixed up the pages of his
notes as he did occasionally. Bernie half-stood and, adopting the standard crouching position, edged towards the lectern. He held out his hand for Paddy’s notes, grabbed hold of them and did a quick shuffle before returning them.

That did the trick.

‘We are living in days when equality is important,’ Paddy resumed. ‘Why, you tell me, why ought a ship be referred to as “she”?’ From the corner of his eye he could see the Admiral flinch. ‘It is nothing but discrimination and ought to be banned by law,’ he went on. ‘By law, I say.’

Here he thumped the lectern with such force that the Admiral not only flinched, he visibly jumped.

‘Why is a floating marine device referred to as a lifebuoy? Do you know? Is it not another example of sexism? Why are we instructed to shout “Man overboard” and not “Person overboard”? The country is riddled with sexism. Riddled, I tell you. Through and through.’

At this juncture the platform party were getting distinctly restless and passengers were beginning to drift out of the arena. The Admiral glanced at his watch and passed a written note to Enzo, who looked pained. He half-stood but the Councillor motioned him to sit down.

‘I have not yet finished,’ he said, peering round at the bemused gathering on the platform.

Just then, a crew member appeared at the doorway and
with sweeping theatrical gestures caught the Admiral’s eye and pointed at his watch. Still Councillor Paddy continued to expound his case. Another crew member appeared with a large blackboard on which he had scrawled
Tide rapidly going out. Grave danger of not sailing.

No sooner had this vital message been received by the Admiral than the ship gave a sudden lurch and Councillor Paddy was thrown violently into the auditorium, together with the supporting cast. Panic ensued. The dispenser of what passed for orange juice discharged its contents across the floor, drenching several passengers in the process. Captain Sparda extracted himself from under the mighty bulk of Bollinger and made haste for the bridge. Lady Harrington swooned and the Admiral, a gentleman to the last, dragged her to the nearest exit and deposited her on a couch before leaping towards the bridge after the Captain.

The ship was now leaning at an angle of some 25 degrees, and in the storeroom sacks of powdered milk had burst, creating a scene reminiscent of Scott of the Antarctic.

Eventually the problem was identified. The initial proceedings had gone way over time during which the tide had receded to such an extent that the keel of the
Handshake
was left resting on the seabed. Had it not been for secure mooring ropes, it would have capsized completely. The Admiral, Captain Sparda and several officers balanced themselves precariously on the bridge and attempted to make a plan of action. The Pier Master
had now appeared and was shouting incomprehensibly at the bridge from his position of safety at the end of the pier. It seemed as though he was advising that the
Golden Handshake
be evacuated immediately. Although lifeboat drill had not yet been conducted on board, crew members had rounded up as many passengers as possible and were instructing them how to don their lifebelts.

Albert and Alice Hardcastle were considerably shaken by the events of the last hour. They had not managed to get to their cabin but had found a seat in the assembly hall. Albert fell asleep and was dreaming of exotic beaches in sub-tropical climes when it seemed as though an earthquake struck. He awoke to a scene of pandemonium. Alice was clutching him with a grip of iron and all around him people were shouting and screaming.

Gradually they both slithered across the floor to an exit and found themselves on deck peering down at the sea.

‘By go,’ said Albert to no one in particular, ‘this is a rum do. Of that there’s no doubt.’

Alice remained speechless until she finally succumbed and, following the example of Lady Harrington, fell into a deep swoon.

The Pier Master was nothing if not efficient. He quickly rigged up a bosun’s chair and, one by one, the passengers were hoisted ashore ready to begin the long trek back to dry land.

To this day it remains unclear what happened to the two
worthy Councillors. Someone claimed to see them clambering over the side and stepping into a pedalo, from whence they proceeded to pedal furiously towards the nearest shore. Their chaplain seemed to have disappeared completely, and the mystery of his disappearance was not resolved until the ship was under way. Lady Harrington was winched ashore as soon as she recovered and immediately set out for Frinton, having had all her worst fears confirmed.

The good citizens of Southend-on-Sea rallied to the occasion and, with the ready help of the Belles, arrangements were made for passengers to spend the night in local homes. The very next day at high tide the
Golden Handshake
took leave of Southend to tumultuous cheers from many local residents. And so began the first leg of the World Cruise.