Lucky took a seat in the back at the drink bar for the first “Welcome Aboard” show to savor the flavor the of the CD’s public persona. The CD was the department head in charge of everyone who was on board to offer the guests some form of enrichment activity. Lucky provided the religious services, so he was considered a “guest enricher”. He had actually worked with Joey several years before when they both had been on another RDC ship.
Everyone who worked in the guest’s activities department was moved around from one class of RDC ship to another in order to offer them a wide swath of experience. This resulted in Lucky bumping into staff people over and over with whom he had worked with on other ships.
An elbow nudge brought Lucky to attention. Led had slipped in behind him and was seated in the next chair. “Hey, figured you’d be here.”
“How was dinner, my friend?”
Lucky had made a decision that he liked the free lance style of dining in the buffet restaurant rather than the formal dining room. He rationalized that he had enough formality in his professional life and, anyway, cruising was half work-half vacation. The services offered a sufficiency of scheduled events. Dining was his personal time.
“Just like I cook at home,” he muttered with a snarl.
For Led, it was quite another matter all together. He liked the fine dining experience and, as he carefully explained to Lucky, I always spot a table with fine looking ladies and one open seat. Lucky was certain from his six year friendship with Led that a highly restricted number of things ran Led’s life: food, girls, sleep, food, girls, sleep, and girls. Not necessarily in that exact order. When necessary, a minor element followed in a far distant last place…work. Isn’t youth wonderful?
“Oh, Ramon noodles ala Cheez Wiz? Lucky quizzed.
“Always the comedian.” Not to be thwarted, Led continued his attempt to share his enthusiasm. “It was open seating for the first night, so I grabbed the first seat I saw. It gave me a great look out spot to scope out the area. I know I’ll meet my possible Mrs. Perfect,” he semi whispered.
“A possible ‘who’?” Lucky imitated his whisper back.
“You know. My quest for the leading lady in my life.” Led swung his arm out in grandiose style as he allowed the ambiance of the theater to affect his mannerism.
“Oh, why didn’t the old man think of that?” They both chuckled.
The Welcome Aboard show continued with a magician and concluded with a juggler. An abbreviated in length bit of light entertainment to get the show on the road, so to speak. Most everyone is tired from their travel day and the need to unpack. This also explains the rather sparse attendance at a first night show on a cruise.
“So, where you headed for the evening’s fling?” Lucky enjoyed forcing Led to plan since Led was a typical card carrying member of the “do-whatever” contemporary generation.
“Not sure,” he unsurprisingly responded. “I think there is a singles’ meet in one of the bars. Sounds like the right thing to do, hey?” Led had a certain twinkle in his eyes whenever the pursuit of his evening star was rising upon the horizon.
“Right. I’ll be heading for the room. I need to get my preps done for tomorrow. My morning service is scheduled for 8 am, so thanks for being quiet when you get back. Hint. Hint.” Positive reinforcement always does the trick, right?
Led liked to hang out until there was no one left to hang with, so that meant some really late night carousing. Led was astute enough to recognize why Lucky was on the ship. He got straight “A’s” when it came to being considerate in the disturbance factor department. If Lucky didn’t have the position he held in the guest enrichment program, he wouldn’t have the opportunity of hitching a ride alone. So, survival of continuing opportunities was his over-riding motivation.
Even more than that, Led was basically a good guy. Could be the number one reason why he had a hard time clicking with most of the women on a cruise. They weren’t usually looking for a wholesome guy. Anything but.
****
When Lucky got back to Cabin #4027, he immediately noticed the telephone’s voice message light blinking. “Wow,” he thought, “this is going to be a busy cruise if today’s telephone calls are any indication.” Earlier, before the Welcome Aboard show, Lucky had called the number which Jeanette, from Guest Relations had given him. He had let it ring several times until the voice message function kicked in. Then he left a message: ‘Hi, this is Father Harris. Sorry I missed you. I’ll be happy to be of service if you would kindly return the call. I’m in cabin #4027’.
Lucky picked up the phone. The robot operator spoke: “You have messages waiting for you. Please push #007 to retrieve them.” Grabbing a piece of paper and pen just in case, Lucky pressed #007 and heard a deep male voice. “Father, I’d like to meet with you tomorrow, sometime. Due to my schedule, it will need to be in the evening, let’s say, at 9 pm. We can meet by the Shrimp Lovers cafe, deck #4. Thank you for your consideration. Good night.”
As the message ended, the robot operator mentioned the time stamp: “Message left at 6:45 pm. End of messages.” He had only vacated his room for the Sapphire Theatre minutes before the call. Lucky’s mind raced. “No name. What does he want to meet about? This really, really does seem awfully strange.”
CHAPTER THREE
“OK: watch stander list is complete; my Second Mate will be the Officer in Charge overnight; my uniform is ready; make call to the Cruise Director about tomorrow’s Captain Call in the Theatre done. That should cover it for now, Jan.” Captain Norse Andersen, Master of the North Star, read off his check list to his Staff Captain, Jan Becker.
“How about the noon announcement for tomorrow? Is that typed out?” Captain Andersen was a stickler for detail. That’s how you make Captain and, more importantly, how you keep the position, doubly so with a successful company like RDC. And, it didn’t hurt to have had your grandfather once hold the position of Chairman of the Board of Royal Denmark cruise lines.
“Got you covered on all fronts, Captain,” Jan Becker replied.
Jan and Norse had worked for RDC more years than they could remember, but only a couple of those years together. Both were the type who would probably die at sea…happily. Norse was a bit senior in the company, thus validating his Master of the ship position, at least on the surface of things. A bit more the traditional picture of a Captain than Jan no doubt helped promote Andersen to being the Chief Meet and Greet person for the RNC’s North Star. He fit the guest cruisers’ image when it came to a picture with the Captain. Especially at the pricey $19.95 a pop. The photo department loved him.
Becker felt a mild sting over her perceived being stuck in the second string position. Possibly a glass ceiling situation. Who knew these days? Outwardly, all seemed to be at peace between them. The position was tolerable enough, the money was very good and there was that love of life at sea. Anyway, Becker had a penchant toward shyness when facing groups. This was compensated for by working harder at the ship handling and seafaring skills over the years. It paid off. “Hey,” she would rationalize, “what good did it do for Captain Smith that he was the Master of the Titanic?”
The bridge business consummated, the Master of the ship headed down to the Chief Engineer’s stateroom. Just a few cabins down from his own lavish suite, the CE had a slightly smaller, but more than adequate, set of rooms making up the suite of a senior officer. There was more than adequate room for family and special guests when needed. Since their length of duty on board could average four to six months at a time, many of the senior officers would routinely bring their spouse or other family members on board for holidays or unique sailing itineraries.
After a courtesy knock, the CE opened the door and invited the Captain in. Stydd had been sitting next to his desk. There was a glass half filled with JW red. Ice cubes snuggled together took up the other half. As he opened the door for the visitor, Hans respectfully motioned for the Captain to take one of the sofa chairs under a recently hung “Sun Flowers” by Va
n Gogh. A museum light subtly highlighted the painting so that the yellows appeared to drip like honey from the canvas. Though this was a copy, RDC had an extensive collection of art, both originals and limited editions, gracing every conceivable venue around the ship. The Captain, with his years of performing inspections, did his habitual cursory look around, but appeared to take slight notice.
More to his own motives, Captain Andersen did take note of the whiskey bottle on Hans’ desk. “Glad I caught you before I went to the Welcome aboard reception,” Andersen stated without any extended social ceremony. Working together gave them that professional permission to jump right to the point. Both were extremely busy people. “I didn’t want to prolong our earlier staff meeting, Hans, but I was wondering how that propeller refit was working out.”
“Yes, I finished the report for the engineer’s meeting in the morning. I have to admit, they did an exceptional job in the yard. I’m sure everyone will be pleased. The crew especially will miss that constant vibration in the lower decks due to that damnable imbalance. They should be able to get their sleep, now.” He smirked as he fingered his glass of scotch.
“Very pleased to hear that, Hans. I’ll just get along, then, and we’ll do it in a more organized fashion at the meeting in the morning. I’ll let you get back to your evening happy hour, should we say.” Andersen pointed to the whiskey bottle and laughed with his polished good humor.
As the Captain made his move to rise…
“Excuse me, Captain. I wanted to update you about my family whom I have invited along with us for the crossing.”
“Oh, yes, good for you to remind me. My apologies. That had slipped my mind. So many details to deal with during those hours right before getting underway for a transatlantic crossing. Don’t want to miss the latest iceberg report, you know.” He smiled as he noticed Hans’ face tighten up.
Chuckling, “just joking, Hans.” Then, with a more sober tone, “it’s your grandfather, isn’t it? I hope he has settled in well.”
“Correct, Captain. My grandfather accompanied by his nurse caretaker, Breath. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have found her only a week before we sailed. I desperately needed someone qualified since he was recently released from the hospital. He’s in such a weakened state physically. I also felt he needed a break from the bleak weather settling into our north sea lands.”
“Lord, yes, it can be depressing during those long dark winters. I think that’s why I decided to learn a trade that would help me get the hell out of there.” Another smile. Captain Anderson had his light and humorous side, even with his meticulous attention to detail. He recognized the need to appear understanding when dealing with his staff and crew. After all, he was a human being as well as the Master of the ship. He didn’t want any repeat of the “Mutiny on the Bounty” episode.
He looked back toward Hans’ bedroom suites. “Are they staying here in the cabin with you?”
“No, I felt it would be better for them to have adjoining cabins with a balcony. That gives her immediate access to him to accomplish her nursing requirements for his needs as well as maintaining their privacy. And, I’m sure Breath, being young and vivacious, would appreciate her freedom. She was just awarded her degree in nursing, with a specialty in geriatric care. Granddad will enjoy taking the evening meal with her in the dining room and then she can get him to bed at a decent hour for an octogenarian. You know, chickens and old people keep the same schedule.” Now Hans smiled. “She, on the other hand, will definitely want to howl the night away. She’s already mentioned that there is a pack of wolves aboard, and are all out of their cages.”
“Right, the young wolf will chase her as his prey until she catches him. An age old joke of Mother Nature. Well, Hans, I hope they both have a great cruise and I’ll try to remember that you have family to entertain along with your busy schedule. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything, if I can be of assistance.”
“Thank you, Captain, one never knows. I may need to. But, I’m sure it will all work out. Neither Granddad, nor Breath, have relied on me all that much up to this point. Granddad is very accustomed to my absence with the long times away at sea. I’ve been more married to RNC and those damn GTV engines for more years than I care to remember.” Hans’ face fell just enough for Anderson to notice.
The Captain patted him on the shoulder. “You care for us like your family, Hans. We all have come to appreciate your dedication. You are a true professional, in all ways. Now, I must get to that reception. The photo gallery department would skin me alive if I didn’t help produce hundreds of $19.95 photos.”
As Chief Engineer Hans Stydd closed his cabin door, he stepped directly and with purpose to his desk and replenished his glass of JW red He raised his glass in a toast, filled with his favorite bravado juice, Scotch whiskey, to his newly acquired Van Gogh.
****
Captain Norse Andersen had hewed his skills of observation over the years. He knew the strong points as well as the weaker ones of each of his senior staff. After all, they were his right and left hands during much of the cruise. He physically couldn’t be everywhere nor could he be awake twenty-four hours a day. Relying on them was paramount. He needed to shore up their confidence in their own areas of responsibility as well as engendering a loyalty to himself as Master of the ship. The bottom line, when it came to the operation of the ship, always totaled up to the Master, good or ill.
As he headed to the Captain’s Welcome Aboard reception, his thoughts reflected over two of his most essential officers: his staff captain and his chief engineer.
Jan Becker was his closest colleague, at least formally speaking. There was always the deference and respect required by naval tradition. On the more troubling side, there was an aloofness and detachment that troubled Norse. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Probably just position envy. He had made a concerted effort to work toward a more relaxed and familiar relationship. Matters between them only remained the same. He didn’t notice any improvement in her attitude.
Then there was his Chief Engineer. Hans was unequaled in his knowledge and experience. Norse appreciated his expertise since engineering was not one of his own chosen favorite involvements. On the dark side, Captain Andersen was well aware of Hans’ affection for the drink. Even with that bit of indiscretion, he was master of using even that as an opportunity stowed away for future advantage.
Norse Andersen was well versed in using the good, the bad and the ugly, when it came to his staff and crew. Having and holding power was in his blood.
CHAPTER FOUR
The chime sounded over the ship’s intercom system signaling the 6:30 pm dinner, the early seating. RDC stubbornly maintained the classic multi course formal dinner. The regimentation of the performance was the subject matter of another cruise line’s ridicule as a ploy to gain customers to it’s purported more modern approach to dining, “whenever”. However, for the loyalists, to the contrary, the slow and leisurely style suited most of those who repeatedly cruised aboard the RDC ships. They treasured the rich traditional ambiance of the dining room, dominated by its larger than Hollywood life sparkling crystal chandelier.
An early in the cruise topic of conversation centered on how it was physically possible to keep a chandelier of that magnificence so sparkling clean with all its thousands of glittering trinkets. The housewives secretly visualized their own small replicas back home with the cloudy glass and the dust overshadowing the glitter.
“Yes, Miss Olsen, I’m certain we can accommodate the wheelchair at table #477,” the maitre d’ responded in his practiced syrupy monotone. Sometimes a guest hadn’t already been assigned the prize table of their desires. So, one of the most perilous projects of the first day aboard was to procure a seating at the table you felt you just must have…and with people of the acceptable kind seated with you. It must be a proper table.
“It’s a table for six, right around the corner here from the entrance, if that suits you, Miss. That will make it conveni
ent to negotiate the gentleman’s wheelchair. There is only one other couple assigned there at this time: a Mr. & Mrs. Fitzgerald. Would that satisfy the lady?”
“Thank you. That should be just fine. Don’t you agree, Sam?” Breath leaned over and asked. At the same time, she encouraged a response with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. Sam nodded slightly.
The maitre d’ marked in Breath Olsen and Sam Stydd, cum wheelchair, with the grease pencil, on the computer screen sunk into his podium. With a very tired glance, he looked over Breath’s shoulder to the next in the long line.
All the while, standing behind the lady and the wheelchair, waiting impatiently to plead his “quest for any seat with possibilities” to the maitre d’, Led took in the entire wheelchair seating drama du jour. His focus wasn’t on the give and take of the maitre d’s diplomacy. Led’s eyes became transfixed by the heavenly vision just inches in front of him…a definite possible cruise fantasy leading lady come true.
As Breath struggled mightily with the wheelchair, Led down shifted his bravado into overdrive. “I can help with that, if it’s OK?”
Breath hesitated. Looking at Led, with a touch of blush, “Oh, gee, thanks, anyway. I think I can manage.” Led translated the “I think” as a hesitation on her part and took that single word of indecision to encourage his bold move.
“Hey, I’m an expert at driving anything with wheels.” His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm when it came to taking charge of anything with wheels.
“I can hardly turn down such chivalry in this day in age.” Lost in all the above young peoples’ drama, Sam finally got some attention and he was ceremoniously wheeled over to table #477.
Removing the stationary chair at one end of the table, Led settled Sam’s wheel chair into position, with a push in here and a pull back there.
Cruise to Mayhem Page 2
