Survival

by David Fletcher

  Here, Jane moved quickly to one of the screens and pointed out the exact location of Deception Island. Then Nick, the bird man, followed her lead and did the same on the other screen.

  ‘Now,’ Captain José continued, ‘we will be stopping at Deception Island, because on this island there are two empty research stations. One is Argentinian and one is Spanish. And I’ll come to what we will do there under agenda point 4.

  ‘OK. From there we will sail to the peninsula – now being pointed out by Jane and Nick – and we will make for a place called Cierva Cove. And here we will find Argentinian research station number two. Then we will sail down the channel, now being pointed out, and pay a visit to Argentinian research station number three in a place called Paradise Bay. And here we’ll review our situation. I mean, by then we’ll be almost sixty-five degrees south, and we’ll have to decide – or I’ll have to decide – whether to go further south or maybe stay right there. Paradise Bay is not only as beautiful as its name suggests, but it is also very sheltered and it will provide a very good anchorage for as long as we need.

  ‘So, that’s a brief run-through of our immediate itinerary. Does anyone have any questions?’

  Nobody did. Or if they did, they were not going to ask them now.

  ‘Fine,’ announced José, quite clearly very relieved. ‘So why don’t we move on to agenda point 2, which is On-board arrangements?’

  Here, he gathered his thoughts, and then continued.

  ‘Now, I think you’ll all accept that we’re now embarking on a new chapter of our cruise; one which is going to be very different from what we’ve been experiencing so far. Bluntly, we are no longer on an expedition, and instead we are seeking to keep ourselves alive. All of us. You, the paying passengers; my crew; the hotel staff; Jane’s team; our friends from South Georgia; and, of course, our new shipmates, Stuart and Gill. So, I’d just like to say that I’ve discussed this with my fellow officers, and with the hotel manager, and with Jane, and whilst there might very likely be a need for a little more forbearance all round, there will definitely be no need for an upheaval in people’s roles. And what I mean by that is that every member of my crew, and all the waiters, chefs, chambermaids and stewards, and all the members of Jane’s team, will be more than happy to continue in their roles if you, the passengers, continue in yours. Offering to help out in the galley or offering to take on waiting duties would, I assure you, be entirely counterproductive and would only serve to disrupt order on the ship. So, we – the crew, the hospitality staff and the expedition team – will continue to be… the crew, the hospitality staff and the expedition team. And you… well, I’d like to ask you to please continue to be the passengers. Albeit, as I say, with as much forbearance as you can manage.

  ‘Now, I’m not going to ask for questions just now, because I suspect they will be answered under points 3 and 4. And especially under point 3, which, as you see, is “Food”.

  ‘OK. Let’s talk about food. We do carry a lot of provisions on the Sea Sprite, and we hope to collect a good deal more from our visits to those research stations I’ve mentioned. But we have to make sure that those provisions last for as long as is reasonably possible. So, from lunchtime today, I’m afraid you will find that the buffet service is suspended, and all meals will instead be plated. And I’m sorry, but it will also be necessary to restrict lunch to one course, and dinner to just two. There will still be some choice, but much less than’s been offered before. I know this isn’t what you paid for, but I suspect that somewhere in the small print, survival might just take preference over gastronomy, and it certainly takes preference over unrestricted tippling. I hate to say this, but wine and all other alcoholic beverages will now have to be rationed. After all, I’m sure none of you would want to see us running out of booze. I hope you understand.’

  For the first time during this briefing, there was an audible hum in the room as many of the passengers absorbed the implications of this latest piece of unwelcome news. Quite clearly, for some, the absence of a gin and tonic or a whisky and soda as part of their daily routine would be a terrible cross to bear. And Alex, for one, felt suddenly very despondent.

  Fortunately, his despondency was short-lived, because José had now moved on to agenda point 4, which was ‘Volunteering’, and this immediately distracted him from the threatened absence of gin. For what the captain was discussing was the need to go about the pilfering of stores from the deserted research stations as quickly and as safely as possible, for which he would need some ‘auxiliaries’ to assist his front-line troops. He explained that certain members of his crew and the ex-military members of the expedition team would lead the assaults on all four of the identified stations, but that their job would be made that much easier if they had a number of able-bodied passengers as their helpers and assistants. And therefore, would all those in the room who believed that they could assist in this way identify themselves by registering at reception before lunch. Not all might be accepted, he warned, but, that said, he would still be grateful for as many passengers as possible stepping forward.

  Alex actually grinned. It would be like joining the Home Guard, he thought, only without the uniform and the drills. He would definitely be reporting to reception as soon as this briefing was at an end.

  That wouldn’t be long. The remaining agenda points dealt with communications (of which, for the time being, there would be none), interactions with other ships (which, in due course, would be ‘cautious and limited’), and medical facilities (which would be much as they were at the moment: a fully equipped surgery under the control of the ship’s rather lugubrious-looking Ukrainian doctor). Such facilities, explained the captain, would almost certainly prove sufficient for their needs. Nevertheless, he went on to say, in view of the circumstances, he had suggested to the doctor that he should invite all those who had previously worked in the medical profession in any capacity to identify themselves so that he might call upon their services if and when required. The good doctor, it appeared, had agreed, and he now looked forward to hearing from any willing parties who had these appropriate credentials ‘as soon as possible after the conclusion of this meeting – in his Magellan Deck surgery’.

  Of course, the meeting couldn’t come to that conclusion until the captain had invited any contributions from the assembled company that might fall under ‘Any other business’, and this he did rather hesitantly, and obviously in the hope that there would be none at all. He wasn’t to be so lucky. That Welshman was as persistent as he was bolshie, and he immediately stood to his feet and posed the question: ‘Should we swap cabins after a week or so?’

  He then went on to explain why this should doubtless be done.

  ‘I mean, those on the Erikson Deck have only paid for their cabins up until the 12th December. So, if we’re at sea any longer, those of us on the lower decks should have a chance of an upgrade. You know, swap our cabins for ones with a balcony. It seems only fair…’

  Alex couldn’t work out what had occurred first: the obvious amused incredulity within the assembled company, or the look of bemusement on the captain’s face. But whichever it was, the answer to this question was not provided in words, but in the reaction of everyone else in the room – regardless of the location of their cabins. The captain remained silent, and the Welshman fell silent too. He might, thought Alex, now think twice before daring to ask another question at one of these meetings.

  Nevertheless, he had successfully discouraged anybody else from asking a question at this meeting, and within only minutes of it breaking up, Alex was registering his willingness to become an ‘auxiliary’. As was Debbie. She clearly wasn’t about to let him have all the fun…

  Roy volunteered as well. But Derek and Elaine did not. Past heart problems for Derek and slightly arthritic knees for Elaine saw both of them having to give up the opportunity to play as pirates, and, in any event, there were already too many volunteers. Dad’s Army wa
s oversubscribed well before lunch.

  It was now that time; time for the first pared-down, single-course meal (of pasta and chicken) – and this was being ‘relished’ by the Famous Five. It didn’t look terribly appealing, but at least the wine rationing hadn’t yet been sorted, and everybody’s glass was replenished without question. It was as the topped-up glasses were being assailed that Roy brought up the subject of ‘mutual protection’.

  The conversation so far had dwelt largely on all those issues discussed in the morning’s meeting, and especially the planned itinerary and the planned acquisition of other people’s property without their consent. Would the three volunteers at the table really be able to participate in a bit of breaking and entering? And what if the target research stations were not entirely deserted? What if there were some Argentinians or Spaniards still at their posts? What if some violent conduct was called for?

  Well, it was possibly that last question that caused Roy to bring up this new subject, and the first thing he did was explain why the subject might be worth considering at all.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s all very well to put a plan in place – just like the captain’s done – but I can’t be the only one to have thought that it will only work if… well, if order is maintained…’

  ‘You mean,’ interjected Derek, ‘if we’re not all at each other’s throats. If the jolly Welshman hasn’t stirred up a war between the decks, and the crew aren’t trying to throw us overboard.’

  ‘Yes, exactly,’ responded Roy without the slightest hint of humour in his voice. ‘And you see, I thought… well, there’s the five of us. And, well, we all get on pretty well…’

  ‘…and we should watch each other’s backs,’ finished Alex. ‘You want us to become the five musketeers.’

  Roy looked a little abashed. Maybe he didn’t know whether his suggestion was about to become the object of ridicule or scorn. But before he had an opportunity to decide, Debbie spoke up, and what she said was unequivocal.

  ‘I think it’s a bloody good idea. No point in not assuming the worst. And if I’ve got to trust my back to anybody, I think I’d be happy to trust it to you guys. And even to my husband…’

  ‘Me too,’ announced Elaine. ‘I think it’s a great idea. Although I hope we never need to put it into practice.’

  Derek and Alex then concurred, Derek with a wry smile on his face, and a warning that his doctor had long ago advised him not to engage in any form of pugilism. But he was still clearly serious, and everybody knew this. So, when all five of them had drained their second glass of Sauvignon blanc, they were all firmly signed up to Roy’s idea of mutual protection. Although, as Elaine had said, they all no doubt hoped that it would prove to be a novel sort of insurance policy against which they would never have to make a claim.

  After lunch, for those not preparing themselves for an outbreak of mayhem on the Sea Sprite, there was bingo on offer. As Jane explained in her tannoy announcement, this might be a first for the Sea Sprite. She could not recall this rather mindless pastime ever having been offered before (although she did not use the term ‘mindless pastime’). But, as she went on to say, neither could she recall there ever having been such a need for an ‘engaging pastime’ before. Nevertheless, it was a pastime Alex and Debbie could do without. Their afternoon would be spent reading and dozing. In fact, more dozing than reading. Traumatic developments could clearly prove very tiring.

  They were both feeling better when the time came to join the members of their gang for dinner, a dinner that would not be remembered for its culinary delights or its abundance of food. There was no starter, and when the main course arrived it looked no more appealing than their earlier lunch. It was an unspecified fish with boulangère potatoes. The potatoes were quite good, but the fish was completely tasteless. Alex suggested that it had not just the appearance of a congealed cloud, but also the flavour of a congealed cloud. The second course was only a little better, in that the apple and blackberry crumble did have a little colour. Even if only the minimum of both apples and blackberries.

  The conversation around the table was hardly memorable either. It consisted largely of a series of unanswered questions concerning their imminent journey south. Would the passenger/crew relationship be sustainable? Would the captain allow any zodiac excursions to relieve their being ‘trapped’ aboard the Sea Sprite for so long? And what about their raiding parties? Would the women really be allowed to join the boys?

  Nobody had definitive answers to any of these questions, but they did all have their views on the likely success of their seeking shelter in the Frigidaire south. And the exchange of these views provided a highlight to the table discussion. It would be what Alex would remember long after the rest of the discussion had drained from his mind. Debbie started it, and she did so with a confident statement.

  ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I have a really good feeling about the next few weeks. They might not be the easiest weeks we’ll ever spend, and we might have to deal with far worse than tasteless white fish, but I think it will work. We’ll get through this. And whatever we find when we get to the end of it – back in Ushuaia and beyond – we’ll be damned pleased that we did what we did. Yes, we’re going to come through this. All of us.’

  Roy then added his thoughts. Immediately and enthusiastically.

  ‘Debbie, you’re right. And I’d go even further. I mean, how often do you get a chance to do something like this: make off for a cold continent on a fabulous ship, with the promise of some real adventure? And not just stuff like breaking and entering, but… well, anything. I mean, like absolutely anything. It’s going to be an unscripted excursion like we’ve never experienced before. God, I can hardly wait to get started. I really can’t. And, Hell, when we break into those research stations, I might even be able to “liberate” a few flags…’

  This comment set off a ripple of chuckles around the table and drew an immediate response from Elaine.

  ‘Well, Roy, I’d prefer you liberated some toiletries and maybe some toilet paper first. You can never have enough of life’s little essentials. Especially if we’re not going to be anywhere near a shop for several weeks…’

  This caused a few more chuckles around the table, and then Elaine carried on.

  ‘Anyway, I have to say that I’m with Debbie and Roy. This is going to work. I’m not sure quite how, but we will all survive.’

  ‘And how about you, Derek?’ asked Debbie. ‘What do you think of our chances?’

  ‘Twenty per cent,’ responded Derek without a second’s hesitation.

  ‘Twenty per cent?!’ shrieked Debbie. ‘Why on Earth would you say that?’

  ‘Because,’ replied Derek calmly, ‘I’ve learnt over the years that twenty per cent is often a pretty sound prediction. Or at least it sounds pretty… sound. And after the event, nobody remembers what you said anyway. And that’s why, if you ask me what the probability is of the captain walking into this restaurant in the next fifteen minutes, I’ll tell you it’s twenty per cent…’

  ‘You’re insufferable,’ observed Elaine. ‘I’m sure we can expect something a little more sensible from Alex.’

  Alex sighed. It was clearly his turn, and he wasn’t sure what to say. Should he be realistic or optimistic or frighteningly honest? In the end, he plumped for the optimistic.

  ‘Why wouldn’t we get through all this?’ he opened. ‘After all, we’re on a roll. First, we managed to end up on a ship literally hundreds of miles from you-know-what. Then we ran into Stuart and Gill. And now, with their help, we’ve devised a plan to keep us all alive. And I’m pretty sure we’ll still be on a roll when we get back to Ushuaia. Why on Earth would we not be?

  ‘So, Derek, I reckon that if you could just find another eighty per cent to top up your twenty per cent, you would be dead on the mark. All of us on board this ship, not just the five of us around this table, are going to come out of
this on top. And you’d better believe me…’

  And as he signed off with this confident conclusion, he wished desperately that not only would they believe it, but that, at some point, he would as well.

  twenty-three

  It had been Stuart and Gill’s second night aboard the Sea Sprite and their second night of sharing a bed. Gill was Stuart’s mate, his drinking friend, the guy he watched films with. She wasn’t his girlfriend, and even on the Bluebird they had slept apart. But here on the Sea Sprite, there was only one spare cabin. And an assumption that, if the two of them had been on a yacht together, with the intention of spending an isolated future together, then they could certainly lie on a bed together.

  This was a difficult assumption to deny. And, in any event, it would have been churlish beyond belief to have even tried. After all, they had been plucked from the sea and saved from almost certain death. So, they had said nothing, and had merely accepted the arrangements offered without question. And those arrangements were, of course, far more luxurious than those they’d become used to back at Mount Pleasant. It was like being… well, on a luxury cruise.

  Furthermore, it had soon become apparent that they were the sort of arrangements that could lead to a development of their feelings for each other. It was early days yet, and their relationship was still strictly platonic, but it seemed to Stuart that they were already seeing each other in a different light. He knew for certain that Gill, although physically the same Gill he had known for months, was now a much more attractive Gill. Especially once out of most of her clothes. And he was now beginning to suspect that this growing attraction was mutual – and quite optimistic enough to believe that his suspicion was more than just a suspicion…