Pedroza stared at Dr Hill. Then he slowly pulled up his sleeve. 'It will cure this?' There was a small red blotch, halfway up his arm. Dr Hill nodded. 'Then whoever owns the cure, owns the world.'
Pedroza smiled. He turned to Captain Smith. 'Even you, Captain, cannot refuse to do this if it will save the lives of your precious passengers.'
But the Captain was stubborn. 'My orders are to continue the—'
'Your orders are changed!' It was a new voice. Mr Stanford had appeared beside his daugter. He looked even weaker than Claire, but his eyes blazed with determination. 'We must find the source of this medicine, Captain, and save ourselves. We can worry about the rest later!'
Captain Smith nodded slowly. 'If you're absolutely certain, sir.' He turned to Pedroza. 'Very well. I will take her to port, Mr Pedroza, in the interests of my passengers and crew. But be warned. This ship will be mine again.'
Their eyes locked for fully ten seconds before Captain Smith brushed past him and strode back towards the bridge.
***
Claire said, 'You saved my life.'
'Nah.'
'You did. You really did.'
'I just happened to be passing by.'
'It was weird, because I was unconscious, but I was dreaming all these crazy things. I dreamed you came in and started talking about my big bum.'
'I wouldn't do that,' said Jimmy.
'I know you wouldn't,' said Claire, and she kissed him.
It was quite unexpected. Right on the lips. Jimmy didn't know where to look or what to say. His face became very red indeed.
'D-d-don't. . . .' he stammered. 'You're probably still infected, it might wear off in a few minutes . . . just. . . don't. . .'
She bent in to kiss him again. He ducked away. 'What are you scared of, Jimmy?' Claire asked, laughing.
'You,' said Jimmy.
32
Defiant Times
While the ship refuelled at Charlotte Amalie, Jimmy led Dr Hill and a team of his nurses back to Mamma Joss's cottage, picking Nick up from his bar on the way. With his help, and after investigating a barely legible handwritten recipe and the various bits and pieces left over in Mamma Joss's kitchen, they were able to identify the ingredients that had gone into her marvellous medicine. Nick was then able to lead them to the different plants and bushes and trees from which these ingredients originated. The resulting concoction wasn't exactly the same as Mamma Joss's, but it was as close as they could get it. It was then administered to the passengers and crew of the Titanic as it sat in the deserted dock. After that there was nothing to do but wait.
And wait.
And wait.
But then, gradually, it began to do its work. Those who had been on the point of death began to pull back; those who had most recently become infected, including Dr Hill himself and Pedroza, saw their blotches fade.
This made Pedroza deliriously happy. Not only was he cured, but he could see great things ahead for himself. Controlling the medicine meant riches and power and respect. There would be a new world order, and he would be in charge. It was therefore important to build up a huge stockpile of medicine. Pedroza kept teams of passengers and crew working up and down the mountain, gathering fresh ingredients. Dr Hill then transformed these into medicine, which was then stored in huge plastic containers in the freezers, ready to be called on when required.
***
After three days in port the passengers and crew were almost completely well again and the ship was refuelled and resupplied (after ransacking a number of supermarkets on the island).
Nick was invited to join the ship's company, but again refused. However, realizing that he'd made yet another valuable contribution to the future health of mankind, he naturally demanded payment. He flashed the IOU for $14 million that Benson had given him. First Officer Jeffers studied it intently, then wrote him a new one, this time for $30 million. Nick was more than happy. He also had some new customers for his bar. Just over a hundred passengers and thirty crew chose to remain on the island, preferring to take their chances there than on a cruise ship under Pedroza's command.
Jimmy and Claire did not have that choice. They were herded back on board and waved a sad farewell to Nick from Level Twelve. Pedroza and his fellow mutineers spent most of their time watching over Captain Smith and his officers on the bridge. Dissenting passengers and crew were no longer confined to the theatre, but were put to work performing the tasks that had previously been carried out by the mutineers. Jimmy and Claire, knowing better than to approach Pedroza directly, asked the mutineer they now knew as Dolphin Arm if they could restart production of the Times. He laughed at them, produced a pair of vacuum cleaners and told them to get busy.
***
In any country in the world where there is a despotic ruler, you can also find a group willing to work against him (or her). They are sometimes known as freedom fighters or 'the resistance', and the same was true on the Titanic. Jimmy and Claire, needless to say, were the instigators of the resistance. Their campaign consisted of many minor acts of sabotage — the fusing of lights, the snipping of telephone lines, the addition of vomit-inducing minor poisons to the food served to the mutineers — and one major act. This was the continued production and distribution of the Titanic Times.
It was difficult and dangerous but hugely exhilarating. The first thing that had to be done was to secretly remove the computers and printers from Scoop's office and to redistribute them to different cabins around the ship. Thus the typing up of a story criticizing Pedroza's latest set of commands could take place from behind the safety of a shower curtain on Level Six; the story was then transferred to a computer hidden inside a mini bar on Level Nine, where, after being slotted into the page design, it might then be sent to the printer, which was set up in a neglected alcove close to Jonas Jones' engines, where the noise of the printer wouldn't be so noticeable. Once printed, the Times was distributed by a hundred different methods, but they always made sure that a copy somehow arrived with Pedroza.
He knew they were responsible.
They knew he knew they were responsible.
But he could never quite catch them at it.
He could, quite easily, have just had Jimmy and Claire tossed over the side. But at least until they reached Miami he had to rely on Captain Smith's sailing abilities to get them there, and doing something horrible to the daughter of the ship's owner would hardly encourage him to continue, so it wasn't yet an option. Instead he gave Dolphin Arm strict instructions to halt production of the paper, a task he undertook with relish. The printer was discovered and smashed. The paper store was hurled overboard. Anyone caught handing out copies of the Times was confined to their cabin. But still the newspaper continued to appear. Jimmy, Claire and their team built another printer out of spare parts; they tracked down alternative supplies of paper; when one method of distribution failed, they thought up another one.
The Times appeared for four days in a row without fail.
***
The fifth day began dark and overcast with a strong swell on the sea. The Titanic was so huge, and its stabilizing system so unique, that most storms could hardly be detected by passengers, but today there was a definite rolling sensation on board. Nearly everyone was feeling a little queasy. Both Jimmy and Claire had been wondering why it was taking so long to get to Miami. As they were no longer following the cruise itinerary, it should have taken no longer than two days. Yet they still didn't seem any closer. Every time they saw Pedroza — albeit from a distance — he looked grimmer and grimmer, and there was a definite shift in mood amongst the mutineers. Neither Captain Smith nor Jeffers emerged from the bridge, and when Jimmy and Claire tried to question Jonas Jones he chased them out of the engine room with a flurry of curses. Claire tried asking her dad what was going on, but he was taking less and less interest in the affairs of the ship. He had been a very rich man before the plague, but now his money was worthless. His fleet was gone — even the Titanic was no longer his. He s
pent his time in his cabin, mostly sleeping. Her mother, on the other hand, who had married a happy, rich man, had found herself stuck with an unhappy, poor one. She was now almost permanently drunk.
'We're newsmen,' said Jimmy. 'We have to find out what's going on.'
'Newspeople,' corrected Claire.
'Which means hearing it from the horse's mouth.'
'Captain Smith or Pedroza?'
'Pedroza is the horse's arse,' said Jimmy.
'You have a foul mouth, Jimmy Armstrong. But accurate in this case.'
'To the bridge then.'
They worked out a pretty lame story on the way there, but in the end didn't have to use it. Pedroza had retired seasick to his penthouse cabin and left a squad of grey-faced guards in charge of the bridge. Captain Smith and First Officer Jeffers were hunched over their computer screens, debating their course, when Jimmy and Claire hurried in, soaked by the torrential rain sweeping the decks.
Jeffers saw them approaching first and immediately snapped: 'Not now — we're busy! Out!'
Claire started to turn away, but Jimmy stood his ground. 'Captain — sir . . . you said it was important to record everything. We're still doing that.'
The Captain's eyes flitted up, and for a moment they twinkled happily. 'Yes — so I hear. Very well, my young friends — this is the situation.' He waved them forward, then glanced up at the guards and lowered his voice. 'For the past few days we've been driven west by a hurricane that's been developing off the coast of the Dominican Republic. However, now there's a second one coming in from the Atlantic and we're caught right between them.'
'That, ahm, doesn't sound good,' said Jimmy.
'Can we outrun them?' Claire asked.
'That would be a distinct possibility,' said the Captain, 'if we weren't about to run out of fuel.'
'What?' said Claire. 'But we only just. . .'
'We're a big ship and we use a lot of fuel. That's why it was so important to stick to the itinerary — that way we could always rely on the supplies waiting for us on our islands. We had just enough fuel for a straight run to Miami, but any deviation was always going to cost us. I'm sorry to tell you that quite soon we'll be running pretty much on fumes alone.'
'But . . .' Jimmy began, 'if we've no . . . and we . . . and then the hurricanes . . .'
'We'll be smashed to pieces,' said Captain Smith.
33
The Olympic
Jimmy wrote another headline for the Times: WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE — AGAIN.
'I don't think that's funny,' said Claire.
Jimmy shrugged. 'What do you think, Ty?'
'Uggggghhhhhhshhhhiiiiiittt,' said Ty, who was throwing up in the bathroom. He had recovered from the Red Death, but now claimed he was dying of seasickness.
'I think he likes it,' said Jimmy. 'And he'll love this one . . .'
Claire looked at the screen.
VOMITING PASSENGERS CREATE NEW WORLD RECORD.
'Jimmy — have you gone mental on me?'
'I thought it was kind of interesting. Jonas Jones tells me that this heap of junk was designed to be environmentally friendly, so no waste gets pumped into the ocean. It's all kept right here. So if this is the biggest cruise ship in the world, and virtually everyone on board has been throwing up nonstop for the past few hours, then I'm certain that we must have broken some kind of world record for the greatest amount of vomit to be found in any one location. Wouldn't you say?'
'You are mental.' .
At that precise moment the lights went out. They were now in complete darkness but for the glow from the battery powered laptop they were using to write and design the Times.
'Have I died?' Ty called from the bathroom.
'Not yet,' said Jimmy. He looked at Claire's ghostly face in the light from the screen. 'They're trying to save power. They did warn us.'
Claire nodded grimly. 'The sea's getting rougher. You can feel it.'
***
They had moved back and forth between the bridge and this temporary newspaper office several times in the past few hours, gathering information as subtly as they could under the watching eyes of the guards. On their last visit Pedroza had recovered sufficiently from his seasickness to have a blazing row with Captain Smith, who wanted to have the passengers standing by to board the lifeboats. Pedroza maintained that no one was going to leave the Titanic until he said so. Captain Smith said they would have to use the lifeboats before all power was lost, because as soon as the engines failed the ship could easily overturn in the high seas. Pedroza finished the argument by holding a gun to the Captain's head and yelling, 'No lifeboats.'
The rain was still lashing the decks as they made their way back to the bridge. Much to their surprise they found it wasn't all doom and gloom, but the scene of sudden and intense activity. Half of Captain Smith's officers had their faces pressed to their computer screens, the others were standing at the front window with binoculars raised, scouring the waves. Pedroza stood with them, anxiously puffing on a cigar. Claire recognized the aroma. She was sure it was one of her dad's. She was just beginning to imagine that Pedroza must have done something awful to him, when she saw Mr Stanford standing just a few metres away, puffing his own cigar and scanning the waves. Last time she'd checked on him he'd been refusing to leave his bedroom, so this was a real surprise. She hurried up and tugged his arm.
'Daddy — what is it?'
'It's the Olympic, Claire!'
'Are you sure?'
'Radar confirms it! Just trying to raise her!' He lowered his glasses for the first time and looked along the line of officers and mutineers scanning the mountainous seas. 'A dozen cigars to the first man who spots her!'
Jimmy didn't know what they were talking about.
Claire turned suddenly and gave him a hug. 'It's fantastic!'
' What is?'
'It's the Olympic! Our sister ship!'
'Our what?'
'Jimmy! Our sister. She was built in Belfast last year! She's slightly smaller — but who cares? Daddy thought the whole fleet was lost — but she's out there . . . and if she has enough fuel we can transfer some and get out of the way of the hurricanes!'
'There she is!' First Officer Jeffers yelled suddenly. 'All lit up like a Christmas tree!' He pointed, and half a dozen sets of binoculars shifted.
'It's her, by God!' cried Mr Stanford. 'We're not finished yet! Look at her, Claire, isn't she beautiful!' He handed Claire his glasses.
It took her just a moment to focus in, and then she let out a little yelp of excitement. 'Look, Jimmy, look!' She passed them on.
Jimmy had to admit the Olympic was a fantastic sight to behold, storming through the waves like . . . he was already thinking of how to write the story . . . like an avenging angel.
'Any contact, Mr Benson?' Captain Smith asked.
'No, sir, not yet, sir!' shouted the young radio operator.
'What course is she making, Mr Jeffers?'
Jeffers quickly returned to his computer screen and studied it intently. 'She's . . . erratic, Captain.'
'She must see us by now! Try raising her again!'
But there was still no response from the Olympic. They tried several different methods of contacting her, but without success. As the two ships drew closer Captain Smith and his crew grew more and more anxious.
'What's wrong?' Pedroza demanded. 'Why are they not responding?'
'Maybe they're sick,' said Jeffers.
Captain Smith nodded grimly.
Pedroza looked from one to the other. 'You are planning something. You've sent secret messages.'
'No,' the Captain responded simply.
Pedroza jabbed the gun at him. 'Then we board her, take her fuel.'
'Impossible,' said Jeffers. 'Not in these conditions.'
Pedroza exploded: 'We have no fuel! We will die here! We must!'
Jeffers shook his head. 'If the Olympic is drifting out of control and we try and get any closer she could smash into us and then we'll both
go down. We must keep trying to contact her, and keep our distance for now. That way we have a slim chance of pulling through. Captain?'
Captain Smith continued to examine the brightly-lit ship through his binoculars. Then he slowly lowered them. 'We need the fuel. We'll have to rig up a bosun's chair—'
'Sir, with all due respect — that's madness! Whoever you send, in these conditions, across that distance, it's a death sentence.'
'Mr Jeffers, I understand your concern. But we're already facing a death sentence. Better to go down fighting, don't you think?'
Jeffers glared at him. Yet within a few moments his anger had faded. 'In that case, sir, I'd like to volunteer to go across.'
'I was counting on it,' said Captain Smith.
***
Jimmy gripped the guard rail outside. The rain pounded, the wind howled and the waves, as high as apartment blocks, threatened at any moment to throw the Olympic against the Titanic. Claire, beside him, had to yell to be heard. 'They shoot a rope from . . . here . . . to there and try to make it secure on the other side, then there's like a swing chair he sits in and a pulley system and he slides across . . .'
Jimmy stared at the waves. His hands were numb from just a few moments' exposure to the wind and rain. He yelled back: 'You would have to be . . . really . . . really . . . really mental to try that!'
It is a sad fact that once you say something out loud, it has a habit of coming back and biting you.
Claire and Jimmy were still debating the foolishness of any sane being attempting to take a bosun's chair ride between two giant ships in a hurricane, when First Officer Jeffers somewhat sheepishly called them back to the bridge. He handed them each a cup of coffee and a towel to dry their hair. Then he led them across to Captain Smith, who was back behind his desk. Pedroza, his pistol jammed into his trouser belt, sat on the edge of it, grinning as they approached.
'Claire . . .' Captain Smith began gravely, clasping his hands and leaning forward, 'sometimes compromise is the—'
'Enough!' Pedroza exploded suddenly. He jabbed an angry finger at Jimmy, then moved it to Claire. 'I know you two are responsible for that little rag of a newspaper. You think you're very smart, don't you?'
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