Cruise the Storm

by David Chilcott

  "So that is it. We are stuck, with death staring us in the face. I tell you, I don't like it, Don. What are we going to do?"

  "Well the captain said he might arrange to relocate me and the missus if we wanted, to another deck further away."

  "So, when are you going?"

  Don looked at Mick. "We aren't. The missus doesn't want to."

  "Bloody hell. I wouldn't mind. I don't want to be killed, and the further away from the hijackers, the safer we would be."

  Don said, "That depends. If they moved you to deck 10, and the hijackers started to kill passengers, they might start at that deck and work downwards. You can never be sure. We're all at risk, as long as this lasts. " He thought for a few moments. "Perhaps we could start a riot, if we all started rioting, what would they be able to do?"

  "Shoot us," said Mick.

  "I don't think so. Well, they might shoot one or two of us, but I bet they don't have many bullets."

  "Enough to play at shooting targets. You saw them," said Mick.

  We ought to have a mass meeting of passengers. I could talk to them, get them stirred up."

  "Like you used to get us all walking out on strike, then we got no pay, and yet you were living on the fat. Being paid by us lot."

  Don had been the general secretary of the Brass and Associated Foundry Workers Union, BAFWU for short. But the numbers of people employed in the industry had been reducing for ages, especially in the seventies and eighties. Eventually, after many management meetings with the Federation of Engineering and Foundry Workers Union, Don's union had received a good pay-off to transfer their members to the larger organization and go into liquidation. Part of the payoff, and it was the secret part, was that Don got a hugely increased pension, and a lump sum payment.

  Don still worked, it got him out of the house and into the arms of his mistress. He was the personnel manager at a small pound shop company with shops all over the UK, and a boss who didn't want to get involved with the staff.

  Don said, "Well, we got you better wages, fifty percent increase in four years, I seem to recall."

  "Well, I've got to say you make a persuasive speech. Two things: where do you speak, you can't use your cabin, it's not big enough. And secondly, how are people going to find out you're holding a meeting?"

  "There is that. I know where we can meet. The theatre, I don't think it's used during the day. Unless they hold rehearsals, but we only need it for, say, an hour. Think how we got meetings over in that time, and still ate our sandwiches, back in the day, eh?" Don gave Mick a friendly slap on his back.

  Don knew that to speak of the old days would get Mick back into line. "Don't I remember it, eh, the bad old days? Shit working conditions, long hours, nowhere to go on a night except the pub, or the movies. Or to bed, because it was too cold to sit about in the house."

  "Aye, well, these days are certainly better. And on a huge liner in the sun."

  "Going nowhere, because of some poncers with guns."

  "Well, apply your mind, and tell me how you get me an audience into the theatre."

  "Push notes under the cabin doors, saying tell your friends."

  "How long would that take, do you think?"

  Mick thought about it. You could tell when he was thinking, because he went into a stupor. Eventually he said, "If we got the wives helping, about a day, say."

  "It would be nice to have the notes printed. We could ask, or could we?"

  "There's no-one to ask these days. Nobody is on reception, and we're not supposed to be on deck 5 anyway."

  "What if we ask the captain," said Don.

  "Well, he'd say 'no' straight away, wouldn't he? He doesn't want to rock the boat, sorry about that," he smiled, "he has his own agenda mapped out, and it doesn't include stirring up trouble with the passengers."

  "Shall we ask your wife first about writing notes?" said Don. "Which reminds me, I've got no paper. We should go to that shopping arcade on deck 9. Do you want to come?"

  The shops were basically gift shops. After all, who would want to buy anything else, when you got all your food and drink free, all your entertainment free, and a free library stacked with popular books. There were a couple of dress shops, for women who can't bear not to shop. And a gift shop that also had notepaper and envelopes. Don and Mick had decided they didn't need envelopes, just writing paper. The note pads were extremely expensive, Don reckoned, and he would need at least six of them, to give a reasonable amount of publicity.

  Reluctantly, he pulled out his wallet. "It is how much? Surely you can give me a discount for quantity." But of course, it was a seller's market, and the next stationer's shop was at least two hundred miles away.

  When they got back to Don's cabin, they needed another drink to get over the shock of buying the most expensive paper in the western world. Whilst they sipped their gins, they composed the note.

  After many attempts, the final version read:

  Mass meeting to discuss the hi-jack, and decide how to end it now.

  Together, the passengers can act, and stop them spoiling our holiday.

  Come to the Theatre tomorrow at ten a.m. TELL YOUR FRIENDS.

  Speaker Don Walker

  They showed it to their respective wives who reluctantly agreed to make copies.

  After two hours, the two wives had made twenty-four copies.

  Both the men buckled down and brought the total to fifty copies. Then both Don and Mick, went round deck 6, pushing copies under every other cabin door. The theory being that many people would know their next door neighbours. Don felt that the next day might bring the theatre's biggest flop.

  They wrote a few more notes that evening before dinner, but the wives thought they had done enough, and the men were quite tired after their drinking session.

  They were on a table of eight in the restaurant, and got along quite well with each other. Don mentioned to the other four about the meeting, and they promised to be there. The wine flowed well, and by the end of the evening, just before they decided to attend the show, Don looked round, and couldn't see any hijackers. He stood up, and banged on the table with a spoon. "Ladies and gentlemen. This is just a short announcement. Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, there is meeting in the theatre when we will be discussing the hijack. It is essential that you attend. Thank you." He had a good voice range, and even without a microphone, everybody heard the message clearly.

  Immediately, people were talking to each other animatedly. Mick leaned across, and said, "Well done, Don, that beats sending notes out. I really think we've cracked it." And he took another swig of his wine.

  Over at the captain's table, Morton the MI5 man raised his eyebrows, and spoke in a quiet voice to the captain, so that the other guests at the table wouldn't hear. "Captain, this is bad news. We don't want the passengers taking matters into their own hands."

  "Quite. Perhaps you could pop across to the man's table, and invite him up to my cabin later on tonight."

  Morton got up, put his napkin on the table and excused himself to the captain's guests, and threaded his way through to Don's table. Already there were other people shaking Don by the hand, and his wife was beaming proudly. Don thought that made a difference from that afternoon when she was calling him a silly fool.

  Morton had to queue up in the short line waiting to speak to Don. The man himself was basking in his sudden fame, and in no hurry to fend off his fans.

  After a few minutes, Morton found himself shaking hands with Don.

  "I have a message from the captain. He would like to meet you in his cabin this evening. Would ten o'clock be suitable?" It was now nine fifteen.

  Don beamed. "Yes, of course," he said, glancing at his wife to make sure she had heard the prestigious invitation.

  Morton made his way back to the captain's table. Before taking his seat, he bent down to speak in the captain's ear. "Ten o'clock, he says he will come. I'll go and bring him up to you. I fear he has struck a note amongst your passengers, and is riding th
e crest of a wave. He may be difficult to handle."

  "We will see," said the captain, thoughtfully.

  When the captain rose, Morton left the table, too. He walked across to Don's table, which as still busy with well wishers eager to meet Don. Morton called across the bobbing heads. "Would you like to come with me, I'll show you the way to the captain's cabin." The crowd heard too, and parted to let Don out of his chair.

  "This won't take too long, will it?" said Don to Morton.

  "I shouldn't think so." And they went up in the lift to deck 10. Morton tapped on the captain's door, and went in first, stepping back inside to let Don in.

  The captain rose from his desk, and came across to them, holding out his hand, which Don shook firmly. "Hello, I'm Don Walker. I think you wanted to see me?"

  "That's right, Mr Walker. I thought we might have a chat. Come and sit down here. This is Michael Morton, who escorted you. Mr Morton works for the government. In a covert way." The captain smiled as he said this. And at the same time pointed to the chair he wanted Don to take. Morton sat next to him.

  The captain sat down last, his arms on the desk, leaning forward to speak. "I think you spoke to my number two earlier today? About the noise the hijackers were making? Did you accept his offer to move cabins?"

  Don looked sheepish. "No, my wife decided against moving."

  "Mr Walker, your idea of a mass meeting of passengers is worrying both Mr Morton and myself.

  "This shipping line has put in place certain arrangements in case of hijack. In fact, this is the first hijack to occur to any ship of the line. I can tell you, and I have attended more than one seminar on the subject, that the shipping line's primary concern is to keep the passengers from harm; secondly to negotiate with the hijackers, and thirdly to make sure that we end the stand-off without loss of life, if possible. For that reason, we engineered the hijack to start in daylight.

  "That was against Mr Morton's advice, incidentally, but in accordance with my management's rules.

  "I think at this stage, I should tell you that Mr Morton joined the ship at Vigo, purely to keep a watching brief on behalf of the British government. In other words they had been keeping watch on Bourne and his band of White Christian Leaguers for some time, certainly a matter of months. So you can see that, despite looking as though we are doing nothing, lots is going on behind the scenes. I would implore you not to make public anything that has been said in this room tonight. If you have any questions, I will try to answer them."

  Don was silent for a minute or two, assimilating what the captain had said.

  "Thank you for putting me in the picture. If the meeting tomorrow goes ahead, and I suppose we can't stop it without arousing a lot of suspicion, what would the result be? Would it really advance the hijack? I find that hard to believe, because you wouldn't pay them, now or in the future. It might frighten them to abandon their attempt – faced by what, three hundred angry passengers. They couldn't shoot more than a few of us before they were trampled underfoot. I think it would just bring a little more pressure to bear on the hijackers. So, if you are going to tell me not to hold the meeting, well I'm sorry, but it must go ahead."

  The captain looked as if he was upset. "As you say, it would look as if I have stopped the meeting if you don't go ahead. But you are in a position to engineer the outcome, and I would say, just on how confidently you made the announcement, that you have experience of public speaking. Therefore, you must be aware of how to do that."

  At this point Morton rose from his chair and silently left the room. He made for the command centre, only three doors down the corridor. It was empty, and Morton used his pass key. The computers were still running, and there was a glow cast by the CCTV screens. He switched on the overhead lights, and made for the computer. He knew how to bring up the Passenger Details, and scrolled down until he reached Walker, Donald. He pulled a sheet of paper towards him, and wrote down Walker's passport number.

  He went over to the GPS phone, and dialled his London Headquarters. He spoke to the duty officer, gave his name and password.

  "Can you give me a précis on Don Walker, Passport number 508334213."

  "Just hold on, about thirty seconds. This new software is quite good. Yes here we are. Taken off surveillance February 1989. That was when he left his position of general secretary, Brass and Associated union. He had a very left wing stance in those days. There is nothing since, because he isn't on the list. Is that good enough?"

  "Sure. Exactly what I wanted to know." And Morton returned to the captain's cabin.

  To Morton's surprise, Walker was still there, in fairly friendly discussion with the captain. They both looked up as Morton took his seat again.

  The captain said, "Mr Walker has been outlining some of his thoughts on the hijack. It's interesting hearing the view of the passenger. Apparently a minority don't seem to understand what is happening, but the majority, including Mr Walker are very indignant. Mostly about having their holiday ruined. I have just been telling him that there will be compensation paid by the line, and a further holiday free of charge. That has gone some way to making Mr Walker happier. We have also discussed the way the meeting tomorrow might be handled."

  The captain stood up to indicate that the meeting was over, and Don rose from his chair. "We must keep in touch, Captain," he said.

  "Indeed," said the captain, "and I am very glad that you are going to keep the meeting fairly muted. You have my permission to tell the audience about the compensation, and free holiday. Goodbye, now."

  Don walked over to the door and let himself out. Morton spoke.

  "I was just checking with London about our Mr Walker. He used to be the general secretary of a trade union, so I bet his speeches are pretty fiery. God, another rabble rouser."

  "I'm amazed how quickly you people can get information about anyone. I bet you've run a background on me, as well."

  "That is something I wouldn't do. I can't speak for my boss, though." He laughed.

  Don went along to the theatre to look for his wife and the rest of the crowd. The show was well into its stride, lots of girls dancing. In the light from the stage, he scanned the audience. He spotted them almost immediately, because they mostly sat in one place, the same every night. They had saved him a seat, and he struggled down the row, treading on peoples' feet until he sank into it.

  Mick leaned over. "Did it go well?"

  "Yes, but I'll tell you later."

  The show ran for another hour and Don enjoyed the sing song, and the comedian. He glanced round the auditorium and guessed there were maybe a hundred and fifty people in a theatre that could seat four hundred. The management had filled the seats from the stage backwards, which was the right way to do it, Don acknowledged. The rear, unlit, was hidden, until you left at the end of the performance. Don mentally noted that they must keep his audience from the rear seats. That meant they needed ushers. Mick could do that, and later carry a radio mike for any speakers in the audience.

  Later, after the show, Don and Grace went back to Mick's cabin for a nightcap.

  When they were seated, Mick said, "Come on tell us, Don, how did it go with the captain tonight?"

  "Well, he's got a very nice cabin, big desk. But you would expect that, being a boss. He's got the boss manner of speaking to you, all very chummy, but something icy behind the manner. It took me back, I can tell you."

  "Well, you could handle that, plenty of practice, even though it was a while ago."

  "Yes, it never leaves you, how to handle them. He was concerned about involving the passengers. I pointed out that the hijackers could be nervous about a silent protest march on them, and would be unlikely to kill. The captain tried to persuade me to make the meeting low-key, and not to stir up trouble. I didn't comment on that. He did say that we would all get compensation, and a free holiday. He suggested I announce that at the meeting."

  "That sounds good," said Mick.

  "As I told him, and he agreed, it is too late to
cancel the meeting, because it would look as though he had banned it. Oh, and there is a government agent on the ship, but don't tell anyone, I wasn't supposed to reveal that.

  "So, tomorrow morning we need to be up early. I want to be in the theatre at least quarter of an hour before the meeting. We need to make sure everybody is crammed into the first few rows, because we won't fill the theatre. There aren't enough passengers for that. I was looking tonight, and I guess there were only about one hundred and fifty people there. I bet that surprises you, because it gave the impression of a full house. The trick is to leave the back rows empty, and no house lights in that part. You learn something new every day." He leaned back, contentedly. Don was in his element, organizing and speaking, manipulating people. This is what had been missing in his life for the past twenty odd years.

  Chapter 36

  Don slept like a baby.

  He was up at seven, out on the balcony. It was another nice morning, but just a hint of cloud, away on the horizon. He realized he could see the container ship, if he leaned over the rail and looked over towards his left. There was no sign of life in the other ship. Since they weren't steaming anywhere, Don imagined that they were probably asleep in their bunks. They ought to be watching over the Helena, looking for signs of trouble. But, even with binoculars, they wouldn't see him, and he was going to cause trouble. Oh, yes.

  Later Don knocked on Mick's door and they both went off to the theatre. It was only half past nine, but they were both eager. When they got there, the house lights were on, and that created a barn-like effect, not cosy at all. As they surveyed the room there was movement down at the stage which was at the other end from where they had entered, and some girls in woollen stockings entered from the wings, talking among themselves. One girl was eating a packet of crisps. Following a few paces behind was a man who looked to be dressed in a jogging suit. Don and Mick walked steadily down the centre aisle, until they were within talking distance. Nobody on the stage had apparently seen them coming, so they looked surprised when Don spoke.