Cruise the Storm

by David Chilcott

  "Hello there, Sir. I wonder if I could have a few words?"

  The man vaulted down from the stage, casually fit, even though in his mid-forties, Don estimated.

  "Hello, there. What can I do for you," fast staccato speech, a little camp. He was the entertainments director, acting this morning as choreographer. But Don wasn't to know that.

  Don rested his butt against the back of one of the seats. "Actually we were going to have a public meeting. It is due to start at ten, and won't take more than an hour, maybe less. The captain has approved it."

  The entertainments director did not want to upset the passengers, so he smiled at Don.

  "The captain has been a bit naughty. He should have asked me first. I'm the entertainments director. Okay, we'll wait until you've finished the meeting." He turned to the girls, still milling about the stage, and shouted: "Rehearsal is delayed an hour. You can go and do some limbering up. Back at, say, eleven fifteen." He made a shooing motion at them with his hands.

  Definitely gay, thought Don. "That is very kind of you. Before you go, you couldn't give us some information, like where do we operate the house lights, and we want the curtains closed."

  "Sure," said the entertainment director. "See up there in the wings, just to this side, there's a panel of switches, curtain closed, open, and house lights. Stage lights, too. Here, I'll get you set up. Are you going to be on the stage?" He looked at Don.

  "Yes, that's right, in front of the curtains, perhaps with a side table and a glass of water? I don't need a mike. I'm used to speaking without. But do you have a radio mike that will work down in the auditorium? Any questioners could use that."

  "No problem. " The man regained the stage as lithely as he had left it. Don followed, using the steps at the side of the stage. He followed the director through the wings, and was handed a small table. Next Don was shown the lighting panel, and was given a three minute run through.

  "You understand it now?" asked the director.

  "Yes, you've been very kind."

  The director vanished to some exit at the back of the stage. Don carried the small table and placed it where he would be standing. Then he went back, fiddled with the switchboard and the curtains closed satisfyingly. He worked the other switches as instructed. He emerged through the curtains, and was lit by a spot coming from the back of the auditorium. Mick applauded, laughing. Don took a bow, to keep him happy, and descended from the stage via the steps. He had the radio mike and handed it to Mick, and told him how to work it, just as the director had instructed Don. Mick drew Don's attention to the seats.

  "Look here, you can close off the rows here." He reached out, pulled a band out of the seat back, and clipped it to the seat back behind. "Nifty, isn't it? Just like they use in supermarkets to close the cashier lines. I've just left the first three rows open, and then I'll open the rest one by one. As needed."

  "Great, Mick. When we start, I'll be in the wings, out of sight, and you go up on stage. You say: can I introduce Don Walker! Hold your arm out, right arm, and I come on, when I'm in place you go back down in the auditorium. When someone holds their hand up in the auditorium after I ask for questions, you go over with the mike, let them hold it, but switch it on first. When they've asked their question take the mike back. Okay? People are coming in, act as usher Mick."

  An influx of men and women were coming into the theatre via the entrance at the back, and a lot of them were preparing to sit on the back rows, and Mick was busy telling them they had to fill the front rows, otherwise they wouldn't be able to hear Don Walker. The ploy worked, because Mick could adopt a very officious manner, having done so all his life. People were given the impression he might punch them if they didn't obey him.

  By ten o'clock, they had about a hundred passengers in the theatre, and still queuing at the door. Don saw Morton, the government man slip into a seat at the end of the row, and cursed under his breath. Anything he said was going straight back to the captain. And then he thought, bugger them all, he wouldn't change his speech just to please them.

  At quarter past ten, Don told Mick that they must get the meeting going, and climbed to the stage, and went into the wings. Mick looked out at the audience thinking there must be two hundred people in now. He shouted above the drone of voices.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr Don Walker!" He held is arm out. Don came bouncing on to stand by Mick.

  "Thank you all for coming this morning. You must be as concerned as I am, otherwise you wouldn't be here." He paused for a few moments, to get their attention.

  "Why should we take this hi-jack lying down? Why should we stand by doing nothing? Do you want to do something?"

  He had gradually increased his volume until he shouted out the words 'do you want to do something'. It had worked before for Don, and it worked for him now.

  "Yes, yes," roared the audience.

  "We need to take action, of course we all do. Get this hijack over." Again Don was shouting, and sweat was running down his face. The audience were hypnotized, every eye turned on him, not a shuffle or a cough. Don held the staring audience, and then

  "Beard them in their den!"

  "Yes, yes," shouted the audience.

  Don was ecstatic. It was all working again. He almost said do not settle for less than twenty five percent wage increase, but pulled himself together.

  "But this must be a march to deck 5! All of us! A silent protest march."

  "Yes" roared the audience, and some actually rose in their seats, as if to leave. Don waved them back down again.

  "March to deck 5, ignore the hijackers. They are not worth bothering with! They're scum!!" Again, the audience howled, their hackles raised, and they were chanting again, "Yes, yes, yes!"

  "When we get to deck 5, we will use the bar. Sit out on deck. It's ours!"

  And then Don stopped shouting, said quietly, "We paid our fares to use the ship, the whole ship. Effectively, we have chartered it." The audience leaned forward to catch his words. Without warning, Don shouted. "We will not obey these pirates!" He made the word pirates sound like a dirty word.

  He pointed at the audience: "Who is following me to deck 5?"

  The audience roared back, "We are!"

  A hand went up. Don pointed at the man, and Mick shuffled down the row, handed him the mike. "Er, what if they shoot us?"

  Don looked at the man for a moment. There was deathly silence and then Don shouted, "Shoot us? Shoot us? How can they shoot two hundred passengers? I shall be leading you. If they shoot anybody, it would be me. Do I look frightened?"

  "No," roared the audience. Don caught a glimpse of someone getting out of his seat, walking up the aisle. It was Morton, going to warn the captain.

  Don said, in a loud voice: "And no-one is going to stop us!" Aimed at the departing back of Mr Morton.

  "No-one will stop us," chanted the audience.

  Morton reached the exit at the back of the auditorium, turned to look back at Walker, but Don couldn't see him in the gloom, and the dazzle of the spot.

  "We are marching, NOW," said Don, and with more agility than he would have credited himself, leaped off the stage. The audience stood up, and started clapping, and cheering. Don thought he had got them a bit too worked up.

  He turned to see Mick now by his side, and so he beat his way through the crowd, making for the rear exit. There was a clattering of seats, and the audience walked up the aisle behind him. He led them along to the lobby, and up the stairs to level five. As they topped the stairs, a solid throng of people, Kevin, who was in the lobby gazed in amazement. He was just making his way to the bar from the reception area. He remembered Bourne was in his cabin, and turned tail, ran for the corridor to the cabins. When he reached the cabin, he turned and looked back. The lobby was a seething mass of people, now overflowing into the bar. And still more people surging out of the stairwell. Kevin thought it was a hideous dream. He hammered on Bourne's door.

  "Keith, quick. This is urgent!" He started to kick the
door, whilst still hammering with his fists. The door cautiously opened, revealing Bourne, hair tousled, still in pajamas.

  "Keith, look out here a moment. Christ, we've been invaded."

  Bourne pushed his head as far forward out of the door as he could. "My God," he breathed. "Are they fighting? Have they got guns?"

  "They're not doing anything. A lot of them are going into the bar. I think they've decided they ought to use this deck. I think it's a peaceful protest."

  "Kevin, while I dress, go along and get Audrey, and the three of us will have a meeting in my cabin." And he closed the door in Kevin's face.

  Don had led the crowd into the bar. He went up to the counter. There was no barman, but a bell stood on the top. Don grabbed it and rang it until the barman appeared.

  "You'd better get some staff up here, and waiters, too. We need drink, and we need food." The man scuttled away, returning almost immediately with some of his cronies. Normal service was resumed in short order.

  Don, still standing at the bar, now with a lager in his hand, looked across the room. Nearly every seat was occupied, and excited people talked in loud voices.

  He was amazed. It had been too easy. He couldn't see Mick anywhere.

  Chapter 37

  Morton burst into the command centre. McBride was there, looking at the CCTV. Of the captain, there was no sign.

  "I have just come from the theatre. A passenger, Don Walker, gave a speech, well a rant, really about how the passengers should deal with the hijackers. The captain told him last night to temper his tone, because we have our own plans. But no, he didn't obey the captain. I've never seen anything like it. There were about two hundred passengers, and in a few words, he had them eating out of his hand. Then he told them that they were going to follow him to level five, so they got up and followed him. Just like that."

  McBride said, "Pied Piper effect. I've just been watching the CCTV. They just walked up one level and swamped the lobby and the bar. There was only one hijacker, and he ran for cover. As you say, amazing."

  "I've got to tell the captain. Where is he?"

  "I haven't a clue. Try his cabin, or the bridge."

  Morton ran to the door, and knocked on the captain's cabin door. He was rewarded with a gruff "Come in".

  The captain looked up from his desk, and Morton told him about the meeting, and that two hundred people were now on deck 5.

  "What are the hijackers doing about it?"

  "It has only just happened, Sir. But they've done nothing so far. You can view it on the CCTV in the command centre. Or I suppose I could go down and monitor the situation.

  The captain thought for a moment. "I can't do anything, whether they shoot or not. I haven't the weapons, and I haven't the people. If that Walker man had done as he was told, we wouldn't be in this situation. Let's go along to the CCTV screens, and watch them for a few minutes. It is obviously an unfolding situation, or as the news channels would say: breaking news."

  The pair went back to the command centre, where McBride was still watching the screens.

  "Anything new?" said Morton.

  "Unless you call hundreds of people having an early lunch in the bar news, no."

  "So where are the hijackers?" said the captain.

  McBride shrugged. "In their cabins, I suppose, unless they are on patrol. I know that there will be at least one of them on the bridge."

  "I suppose Walker might have had a point," said Morton, reluctant to say so. "What can they do about all these people on what they call 'their' deck? Shooting might start a riot, or certainly a panic, and then what?"

  "My bet is that they will stay out of the way, and by this afternoon the people will have become bored, and will drift off to other venues," said McBride.

  "And," said the captain, "there's a storm on the way by this evening, so everything may settle itself down. Nobody stays angry if they are trying to keep their food down as a number one priority. Let's carry on as though everything is normal." And he went out of the room and back to his cabin.

  In Bourne's cabin, Audrey and Kevin were sitting round the coffee table, while Bourne paced the floor, unable to keep still, ranting: "What are they doing on our deck? Who's behind this? Is it the captain trying to goad us into doing something rash?"

  Audrey said, "I was dining last night in the main restaurant. Suddenly this guy, Don Walker, I think, stands up, raps on the table for attention, and announces a meeting today about the hijackers. One of the dancers told me that they met in the theatre, and everybody followed this man out, and on to this level. She knew, because they delayed rehearsals, by having this meeting."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Bourne said.

  "I was on patrol when the dancer told me, and when I got back, you were still asleep." Bourne ignored the jibe.

  "Well, what are we going to do about it?"

  "Nothing, would be my advice," said Audrey. "Tomorrow's the deadline. And then we start shooting passengers. At least we don't have far to go. Just outside our cabin doors!"

  "I agree," said Kevin, in case they thought he had fallen asleep. "Do nothing, I mean. It will leave everyone wondering what we are thinking. Gives us an aura of mystery."

  "Bollocks," said Audrey.

  "Do nothing, then. But we must stay in our cabins until most of them leave. Audrey, phone round and cancel the shooting match this afternoon. Don't make a decision yet about dinner. If they've gone, we'll carry on as normal."

  It was gone two o'clock when Don arrived at his cabin. His wife was on the balcony, eating sweets from a big dish. It was such a big dish that the contents would probably last her the entire afternoon.

  She looked up when he came on to the balcony. "You're neglecting me, Don Walker," she said, but not angrily. Don's new climb to fame had tempered her feelings for him. "Where have you been?"

  "I thought you knew. I had a meeting and I spoke to everyone about the hijackers. Is it coming back to you? Then I led them to the hijackers deck, two hundred people, that was something. Then we ate lunch in the bar there. And now I'm back with you."

  "Can we go to the pool area? I'm getting bored."

  "Sure, are you ready now?"

  "Yes," she said, and heaved herself off the lounger.

  At the pool, people he didn't know hailed him, and came up to him, slapping him on the back. He smiled back at everyone, trying to be friendly, keeping them on his side. You never knew when you might need a favour, that was what his old dad said, he remembered. He hadn't thought about him for years. Ever since he pissed Don off by leaving home with a waitress from the local café.

  They grabbed a couple of poolside loungers and Don asked his wife what she wanted to drink. He went up to the bar, since it was only a few paces away. He got himself a beer, and a slimline tonic for his wife. Ironic, that. He was just turning away from the bar, when there was a tap on his shoulder. He swung round, a drink in either hand, and it was Morton, the secret service man. At least that was what Don thought he was. Hadn't the captain hinted at that?

  "Hello, can I have a word with you?" Morton was actually smiling. Last night, he hadn't smiled at all. A friendship beginning to bloom thought Don.

  "You can if you come over and meet the wife," said Don. That would put him off.

  But no, nothing put off Mr Morton. He shook hands politely with the wife, dragged another lounger over, and sat next to Don. "Can I buy you a drink," said Don. Morton shook his head.

  "I shan't keep you long. You disobeyed the captain, today. But I acknowledge you were very successful, and it didn't escalate the situation. That surprised me, and it surprised the captain. You forecast the situation correctly, congratulations."

  "That was nothing," said Don, "You don't spend years in a trade union without learning a thing or two about dealing with people."

  "I know your history. Last night, when you were talking with the captain, I left the room, to check up on your background. We had you under surveillance until you left the Brass and Foundry union.
That was the last time you appeared on our radar."

  "Only doing my job. You do surprise me."

  "If you cast your mind back, it was almost the collapse of civilization in the UK. Power blackouts, rubbish piling up in the streets, industry almost at a standstill."

  "Ah, sweetness in remembrance," said Don cheekily, winking at Morton.

  "I really wanted to say that not only did you impress me, you also impressed the captain. If there are to be any negotiations with the hijackers, will you come on to our negotiating team?"

  "I'd be delighted." Don was almost wagging his tail, if he had had one.

  "Mind you, I don't expect the situation to end that way. I forecast, and please don't tell anyone, that we will be in port in a couple of days, and the hijackers all locked up." He looked at Don, and added "or dead."

  Chapter 38

  The jarring thud that struck through the ship woke the captain instantly. While he puzzled at what had happened, the captain's phone rang. He automatically looked at his bedside clock. One o'clock. He picked up the phone

  "Yes?"

  "Bridge here Sir, sorry to wake you. We have the alarms going, bulkhead one, doors sealed."

  "I felt the ship lurch, that woke me. We've hit something? What do the engineers think? Has a ship hit us, surely not?" Questions were racing through his mind. "I'm coming straight to the bridge."

  He got up immediately, threw on a shirt and trousers, slipped his shoes on, no socks, no time. He dashed out of the door, ran up the corridor, the movement of the ship in the storm meant that he was falling against the walls when he didn't time his steps correctly.

  He lurched through the door to the bridge. The first officer was over on the port side, had the arc lights on over the bows, a pair of binoculars to his eyes. The second officer came in directly behind the captain.

  "What did we hit?" he said breathlessly. He had been running.

  "Don't know, there's something there. Can't make it out yet," said the first officer.