The mood on board continued to shift with two sea days before the last port and then three more sea
days to Portsmouth.
"I wish it was next Friday - we've had the fun now and there's nothing of interest at Ponta Delgado."
The stout party voiced a commonly expressed sentiment.
"We're only at Ponta Delgada for six hours, it's barely worth it."
The mood was low and the Future Cruise Office was doing good business selling new beginnings to people trying to hasten an ending.
---OOO---
On Sunday they came close to setting the ship's Captain adrift in a life-boat.
"Good Afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen this is your Captain speaking to you from the bridge with today's navigation and weather information." The daily broadcast began as every other and, people were confident, would end as usual with the captain imploring all to 'use hand rails and wash, wash, wash." It was the middle bit that brought out the Fletcher Christian in many. The Captain announced that because the weather had been so rough and was forecast to remain so for some days the ship had lost time and would no longer be stopping at Ponta Delgada.
Suddenly Ponta Delgada was the sole reason people had chosen the particular cruise. It became, in seconds, the most charming city on earth. The Captain, once universally admired as handsome, Norwegian navigator was now the villain of the piece. Some suggested that his accent was not actually Norwegian but German; that he had been going slowly to save fuel and money and those who had complained that the sea was too rough and the stabilisers too old now agreed that it was a mill-pond. Even the arcane other-world of the puzzlers was in despair. Ponta Delgada, with everyone else ashore was going to have been their last chance to cover every surface on the ship with puzzles.
---OOO---
Even the weather had chosen to sulk, a thickening mist reduced visibility to two miles (had there been anything to see) and reduced the sun to a pale, watery stain in the sky. Graham and Sally the twitchers gave up their vigil: everything having been reduced to water - either mist or sea.
Some of the deck walkers and baskers had packed their shorts and dug out the long trousers and stout shoes as if to underline the change in mood and weather. Strangely one couple had gone a step further and appeared on deck wearing moderately sized back-packs that were clearly full. They strode as if Snowdon bound in those oversized trainers that have now replaced the old dubbined leather walking boots. It was hard to imagine what they could have been carrying around the deck. Perhaps bars of Kendal Mint Cake, survival bags and water, the bags were large enough to carry small tents. Their energy and determined pace contrasted strongly with the lethargy that was draped over sun loungers and deck chairs. After half an hour they were gone, perhaps to their cabin where they could build a bivouac with the bedding and sing Boy Scout songs. Hope beyond hope that they had no intention of building a camp fire.
---OOO---
"Good evening, may I join you?"
"Of course, be my guest, let me buy you a drink?"
The exceptionally good port lecturer, David, sat opposite and ordered a glass of wine.
"Have you enjoyed the trip?"
"It's been interesting and we've seen some amazing things."
"They kept you busy in the Amazon but you seemed to quite enjoy talking to people about the insects."
"It's always good to have an opportunity to share an enthusiasm. How about you? This missed port rather undermines your last lecture."
"More than that I was supposed to disembark there and fly back to the UK for a meeting. My only hope now is to clobber some elderly lady so she has to be evacuated and then offer to accompany her."
"Doesn't sound like much of a plan to me."
"We're only at Ponta Delgada for six hours, it's barely worth it."
The mood was low and the Future Cruise Office was doing good business selling new beginnings to people trying to hasten an ending.
---OOO---
On Sunday they came close to setting the ship's Captain adrift in a life-boat.
"Good Afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen this is your Captain speaking to you from the bridge with today's navigation and weather information." The daily broadcast began as every other and, people were confident, would end as usual with the captain imploring all to 'use hand rails and wash, wash, wash." It was the middle bit that brought out the Fletcher Christian in many. The Captain announced that because the weather had been so rough and was forecast to remain so for some days the ship had lost time and would no longer be stopping at Ponta Delgada.
Suddenly Ponta Delgada was the sole reason people had chosen the particular cruise. It became, in seconds, the most charming city on earth. The Captain, once universally admired as handsome, Norwegian navigator was now the villain of the piece. Some suggested that his accent was not actually Norwegian but German; that he had been going slowly to save fuel and money and those who had complained that the sea was too rough and the stabilisers too old now agreed that it was a mill-pond. Even the arcane other-world of the puzzlers was in despair. Ponta Delgada, with everyone else ashore was going to have been their last chance to cover every surface on the ship with puzzles.
---OOO---
Even the weather had chosen to sulk, a thickening mist reduced visibility to two miles (had there been anything to see) and reduced the sun to a pale, watery stain in the sky. Graham and Sally the twitchers gave up their vigil: everything having been reduced to water - either mist or sea.
Some of the deck walkers and baskers had packed their shorts and dug out the long trousers and stout shoes as if to underline the change in mood and weather. Strangely one couple had gone a step further and appeared on deck wearing moderately sized back-packs that were clearly full. They strode as if Snowdon bound in those oversized trainers that have now replaced the old dubbined leather walking boots. It was hard to imagine what they could have been carrying around the deck. Perhaps bars of Kendal Mint Cake, survival bags and water, the bags were large enough to carry small tents. Their energy and determined pace contrasted strongly with the lethargy that was draped over sun loungers and deck chairs. After half an hour they were gone, perhaps to their cabin where they could build a bivouac with the bedding and sing Boy Scout songs. Hope beyond hope that they had no intention of building a camp fire.
---OOO---
"Good evening, may I join you?"
"Of course, be my guest, let me buy you a drink?"
The exceptionally good port lecturer, David, sat opposite and ordered a glass of wine.
"Have you enjoyed the trip?"
"It's been interesting and we've seen some amazing things."
"They kept you busy in the Amazon but you seemed to quite enjoy talking to people about the insects."
"It's always good to have an opportunity to share an enthusiasm. How about you? This missed port rather undermines your last lecture."
"More than that I was supposed to disembark there and fly back to the UK for a meeting. My only hope now is to clobber some elderly lady so she has to be evacuated and then offer to accompany her."
"Doesn't sound like much of a plan to me."
"Excuse me did I hear you say that someone needs to be evacuated from the ship?"
"No, no I was joking."
"It's just that I overheard someone saying that they've got an elderly patient sedated in the sick bay. She's gone completely bonkers and the medics say she should be put ashore for her relations to arrange a flight home."
"Not sure which would be worse: a crazy woman on a ship or an aeroplane."
"It's academic now - she's stuck on board until Saturday, poor thing."
"And I'm not sure that my meeting is important enough for me to agree to chaperone someone in that condition."
"I suppose she's sedated so she doesn't do anything silly like take a swim in the ocean."
How strange it must have been to enjoy a cruise and end up sedated in the sick bay - maybe it's the way to go.
---OOO---
"Well, what do you make of the news?"
"The news?"
"Yes about us missing a port. It's outrageous," Margaret said with some vehemence.
"They shouldn't be allowed to do it."
"But if we're running late we might not dock until 11 at night and that wouldn't be much use to anyone."
"Then they should sail round and round until the morning and then dock."
"But the we'd be more than a day late back at Portsmouth. That would be a real problem for people with transport arrangements, the Norwegians for instance, they have to get flights to Oslo."
"Yes but that's just two of them and we're going to miss a port."
"The other problem, " James suggested, " is the people on the next cruise - they'd miss a day."
"Well that would be their problem."
"I like to keep my problems for myself, not pass them on," James ended the conversation sagely.
---OOO---
The man with the moustaches that had last been fashionable in Germany during the thirties and early forties strode across the library.
"Look, look at this."
He thrust out a hand with a sketchbook. In a tangle of black lines it was possible to discern a cartoon of sorts. Depicted was a figure, probably a woman, seated at a dining table. On the table in front of her a soup bowl and sticking out of the soup a small stick of some sort. The caption read "Waiter there's a fly in my soup."
He guffawed. "There bug man what do you think of that?"
"Damn funny eh? Bug, in the soup. Thought you'd like it."
"Yes, very good," the words came out through a smile that probably looked as genuine as a Rupert Murdoch apology.
"Knew you'd like it but you can't have it. I never sell any of my work."
There was no look of surprise at this fact as he strode off to press gang another admirer.
---OOO---
The door from the library out to the promenade deck had an overly strong closer. It slammed the door like a teenager in a temper. Three members of the crew arrived with a mastic gun of adhesive, a notice saying "Take care, strong spring" and some masking tape. After a brief conference, measurements were taken, the centre of both door and notice marked and adhesive applied to the notice. This was lined up on the broad wooden bar that separated the upper and lower glass panels and secured in place with the masking tape. The three stood up and marched out of the door. The door, of course, slammed, several dozers in the library sat up with a start and the warning notice fell to the floor. In a twist of fate that Harry Worth would have appreciated, one of the repair crew returned through to door to collect a forgotten tool bag, trod on the notice and nearly tripped as he discovered it stuck to the sole of his shoe. He peeled it off, picked up the tool bag and disappeared.
"No, no I was joking."
"It's just that I overheard someone saying that they've got an elderly patient sedated in the sick bay. She's gone completely bonkers and the medics say she should be put ashore for her relations to arrange a flight home."
"Not sure which would be worse: a crazy woman on a ship or an aeroplane."
"It's academic now - she's stuck on board until Saturday, poor thing."
"And I'm not sure that my meeting is important enough for me to agree to chaperone someone in that condition."
"I suppose she's sedated so she doesn't do anything silly like take a swim in the ocean."
How strange it must have been to enjoy a cruise and end up sedated in the sick bay - maybe it's the way to go.
---OOO---
"Well, what do you make of the news?"
"The news?"
"Yes about us missing a port. It's outrageous," Margaret said with some vehemence.
"They shouldn't be allowed to do it."
"But if we're running late we might not dock until 11 at night and that wouldn't be much use to anyone."
"Then they should sail round and round until the morning and then dock."
"But the we'd be more than a day late back at Portsmouth. That would be a real problem for people with transport arrangements, the Norwegians for instance, they have to get flights to Oslo."
"Yes but that's just two of them and we're going to miss a port."
"The other problem, " James suggested, " is the people on the next cruise - they'd miss a day."
"Well that would be their problem."
"I like to keep my problems for myself, not pass them on," James ended the conversation sagely.
---OOO---
The man with the moustaches that had last been fashionable in Germany during the thirties and early forties strode across the library.
"Look, look at this."
He thrust out a hand with a sketchbook. In a tangle of black lines it was possible to discern a cartoon of sorts. Depicted was a figure, probably a woman, seated at a dining table. On the table in front of her a soup bowl and sticking out of the soup a small stick of some sort. The caption read "Waiter there's a fly in my soup."
He guffawed. "There bug man what do you think of that?"
"Damn funny eh? Bug, in the soup. Thought you'd like it."
"Yes, very good," the words came out through a smile that probably looked as genuine as a Rupert Murdoch apology.
"Knew you'd like it but you can't have it. I never sell any of my work."
There was no look of surprise at this fact as he strode off to press gang another admirer.
---OOO---
The door from the library out to the promenade deck had an overly strong closer. It slammed the door like a teenager in a temper. Three members of the crew arrived with a mastic gun of adhesive, a notice saying "Take care, strong spring" and some masking tape. After a brief conference, measurements were taken, the centre of both door and notice marked and adhesive applied to the notice. This was lined up on the broad wooden bar that separated the upper and lower glass panels and secured in place with the masking tape. The three stood up and marched out of the door. The door, of course, slammed, several dozers in the library sat up with a start and the warning notice fell to the floor. In a twist of fate that Harry Worth would have appreciated, one of the repair crew returned through to door to collect a forgotten tool bag, trod on the notice and nearly tripped as he discovered it stuck to the sole of his shoe. He peeled it off, picked up the tool bag and disappeared.
Ten minutes later the original team returned with reinforcements in the form of a large gentleman, in
a boiler suit who carried an electric drill the size of a small artillery piece. The recalcitrant notice was
produced with two new holes, offered up to the door, the screw holes marked with a auger and the
large fellow took aim and the drill made two holes and a screeching sound like a cat with a trodden on
tail. The notice was fixed with two large brass screws and the squad disappeared out through the door
once more. The door slammed, the notice stayed put, a dozer awoke and called out "Don't slam the
door Tracey."
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