‘Gaston, darling.’
Ophelia slipped her arm through mine as we left the saloon after dinner the following evening.
‘Who’s that ghastly fat woman with the purple hair sitting opposite you?’
‘Mrs Sybil van Barn? A decent enough soul, though rather heavy on the husbands.’
‘Terribly vulgar, don’t you think, the way she hobnobs with the waiters?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I replied sportingly. ‘Americans are always pretty pally with their servitors, and
vice versa
. Even in the plushiest New York restaurants the chap comes up with a deep bow and asks, “
Que voulez-vous
, bud?”’
Ophelia pouted.
‘I mean, if Basil really wants to go round the world being a waiter, he ought to learn to keep his position as one.’
‘First of all he ought to learn to serve boiled potatoes, if you ask me.’
‘Darling,’ said Ophelia, ‘would you like to buy me a liqueur in the Veranda Bar?’
‘Who, me? I say! Would I, indeed! My dear old girl, come along.’
‘How terribly sweet of you.’ Ophelia put her little hand into mine. ‘Darling, I’m
so
glad you’re aboard.’
I’d previously decided to let things drift between us until at least the scars she’d made had healed on my left biceps. I was still in love with her, of course. You couldn’t help it. After all, it had taken her only ten minutes to get someone like Captain Spratt rolling with his paws in the air at her feet. This seemed a terrific chance to reopen the attack, particularly as we’d now got into the tropical moonlight belt.
Ophelia sat with a
crème de menthe
in a
chaise longue
, chatting away as brightly as in the old days. And I must say I felt pretty pleased with myself, particularly with all those envious glances from the chaps as they passed.
‘I’m sorry I was so beastly to you the other night,’ she apologised. ‘The stupid way Basil behaved quite made me lose my head. You know how it is.’
‘Let’s just forget the whole little episode, shall we?’
I patted her hand.
‘After all, darling, you were terribly kind to me all those weeks I was quite alone in London.’
‘And I hope,’ I told her, patting a bit harder, ‘I can be even kinder when we get back.’
‘Darling, you’re so sweet,’ said Ophelia.
I felt that as far as bliss was concerned, this was just the job.
‘If you’re not too tired after being photographed hanging from the rails all day,’ I ventured, deciding to strike while the iron was fair sizzling. ‘Perhaps you’d like a go at the Gala Dance?’
‘But darling, I’d adore to! I haven’t danced with you all the trip, have I? It’ll be quite like old times.’
I couldn’t remember a more rapturous evening, particularly as I knew there wouldn’t be one of those sinister chaps sidling up with the bill at the end of it. Meanwhile, the tropical moonlight at least had come out as advertised, and I could hardly wait for an appropriate moment to suggest we combed the streamers out of our hair and went for a little stroll round the deck.
‘How divine!’ breathed Ophelia, as we paused in a nook between the starboard fan house and a ventilator.
I swallowed a bit. What with the soft swish of the water, and the stars, and the little breeze flicking through her hair, chaps get a bit overcome.
‘Care for a chat?’ I murmured, edging further into the nook.
She stroked my lapels. ‘Gaston – you’re such a dear.’
‘Ophelia, my darling.’ I tickled her left ear. ‘This is the very moment I’ve been living for since I came aboard.’
‘You came aboard for
me
, darling,’ she remembered softly.
‘For you, my sweet.’ I shifted the tickling to her mastoid bone. ‘For you alone have I adopted the perilous existence–’
‘Kiss me, darling.’
I hastened to oblige. But at that moment a voice from the other side of the ventilator said, ‘Gee, Basil, you sure have made my trip.’
‘And you, my dear Sybil, have certainly made my year.’
Ophelia snapped her teeth shut so fiercely she pretty well took off the end of my nose.
‘Basil dear!’ There was a sigh behind the ventilator. ‘You’re a wonderful man. It’s a crying shame you having to go around just being a steward like this.’
‘It’s only a temporary part – I mean a temporary post. Better things are in store.’
‘There sure will be, dear, if I have anything to do with it. Kiss me again.’
‘Of all the dirty little worms!’ hissed Ophelia. ‘My own fiancé, too!’
‘I’m afraid the chap’s a bit of a cad,’ I muttered.
‘You just wait till I get my hands–’
‘Here, wait a second – !’
I grabbed her dress. Knowing Ophelia, if she started a scene on deck they’d have to send for the Bos’n with his fire hoses before she finished it.
‘I’m going to tear that skunk limb from–’
‘But creating in public!’ I whispered urgently. ‘It’s frightfully undignified.’
‘I couldn’t care less how damn undignified–’
‘I mean, undignified in front of – of
her
.’
The point struck home. Ophelia stood breathing heavily. Before she could change her mind, I seized her hand and led her briskly down the deck.
‘Surely, it’s far better,’ I murmured stroking it soothingly, as we hurried past the lifeboats. ‘Simply to summon Basil to your cabin and give him it good and proper in the ear tomorrow morning?’
Ophelia bit her lip.
‘I’ve half a mind to push him over the rail here and now, and laugh while the sharks eat him.’
‘Strong feelings,’ I agreed, as we stopped in the stern, ‘are perfectly understandable in the circumstances.’
‘With that overweight adventuress who’s already murdered two husbands–’
‘If I may be of any help in your distress,’ I reminded her, ‘you can rely on me.’
‘Dear Gaston!’ She threw her arms round my neck. ‘You’re so upright and honest.’
‘Come, now–’
‘Yes! So honourable in your dealings with women.’
‘One has one’s code, naturally.’
‘It’s so wonderful to have someone in the whole world to trust and to admire!’
‘But it is you, Ophelia, who bring out the best in me,’ I explained, very civilly. ‘And now if you’d like to continue our stroll, there’s always the other side of the ship.’
‘I’m far too upset,’ she announced. ‘It’s all given me a beastly headache, and I must go to bed. Good night.’
She disappeared.
I must say, I felt a bit narked with that idiot Basil, ruining my evening again. But, I told myself as I went down to my own cabin, now there was always tomorrow. If Basil didn’t disappear over the side to the sharks, he’d certainly disappear just as completely from Ophelia’s life. To be replaced, I reflected as I put my feet on the sofa and poured myself a gin, by that upright, honest, reliable, honourable chap, Gaston Grimsdyke.
‘Poor old Basil,’ I murmured. I felt quite sorry for the fellow.
I had another gin, and pictured our next meeting. We’d both be jolly dignified and pat each other on the back, and everything would end very pleasantly with a solemn handshake and condolences and congratulations all round. I was therefore a bit surprised when he burst through my door a few minutes later like one of those South Atlantic hurricanes Captain Spratt was so fond of describing over dinner.
‘You swine!’ He stood opening and closing his fists. ‘You toad!’
‘Ah, Basil, there you are! No hard feelings, I hope?’
‘You stinking little sawbones! I’ve just been talking to Ophelia.’
I was a bit surprised at this, because, of course, she had a headache.
‘And I fear she handed you your cards?’ I observed sympathetically. ‘Rotten for you, I admit. But at least you’ve awarded yourself a very nice consolation prize.’ I gave a wink. ‘As far as Ophelia’s concerned, it’s just another case of best man win, and all that, eh?’
I extended my hand.
Basil spat on it.
‘Here, I say! This isn’t quite the way to behave just because you’ve been unlucky in love.’
‘You poisonous little pill pedlar!’
‘I mean,’ I went on with a little laugh, ‘you may henceforward be frightfully lucky at cards.’
Basil advanced into the cabin.
‘Will you stop that drivelling before I break your filthy neck?’
‘Now, just a minute–’ I started to feel annoyed with the idiot. ‘You’ve no business to carry on like this simply because Ophelia has turned you into the snow. Why, if everybody created like you, the ruddy country would be like a gladiator’s benefit night. Besides, now you’ve got your van Barn to keep you warm. Dash it!’ I became rather indignant. ‘You can’t have your crumpet and eat it too. I might tell you, Basil, I am becoming a little weary of continually hearing about Ophelia and you–’
‘Oh, damn Ophelia and me! It’s Ophelia and
you
I’m concerned about.’
‘I admit she’s shown a slight preference–’
‘It might interest you to know, you unholy sewer rat, that Ophelia has told me everything. Everything! Starting before Christmas.’
‘Er, yes,’ I said. In the excitement, I’d rather forgotten the train of events.
‘She told me the lot. The absolute lot!’ Basil stood over me, breathing on my face like a blowlamp. ‘All the time I was sweating my heart in that ghastly pantomime in Blackport – cavorting before audiences composed entirely of deaf mutes, living in digs that would be a disgrace to a refugee camp, eating all that beastly tripe and queuing in the rain for those horrible trams – while I was suffering to earn a little money to set up a home for my future wife, you – you emasculated Jack the Ripper – were taking advantage of my absence in a manner unspeakably loathsome between bitter enemies, not to mention old trusted friends–’
‘I – I just thought she might be a little lonely,’ I explained.
‘Har!’
I edged towards the door of the hospital.
‘And anyway, it was all perfectly innocent–’
‘Innocent? Great God! You lured that sweet girl into your Mayfair flat at night and proceeded to rip her clothes off–’
‘Now look here!’ This was too much. ‘I never did anything of the kind.’
‘I demand – Have you or have you not seen Ophelia naked?’
‘Of course I have! But that was purely–’
‘Thank you. That is all I want to know.’
‘Dash it! It’s perfectly easily explained–’
‘Cur,’ hissed Basil.
‘Basil, my dear chap, I’m sure we can sit down and talk the whole matter over–’
‘Let me get at you.’
‘Here, hold on!’ I grabbed the hospital door handle. ‘After all, we are gentlemen.’
‘One of us is. The other, by God! Is shortly going to be unrecognisable as anything.’
‘And one of us,’ I snapped, now really narked. ‘Doesn’t break open the lock of our gas meter and swipe all our Gas Board’s hard earned shillings. Or leave our digs by the drainpipe without paying our week’s rent. Not to mention that our landlady’s daughter–’
‘You dreg! You pustule!’
I slipped quickly inside the hospital. But Basil, with an agility I suppose coming from all those trap-doors, managed to stick his foot in the jamb. I bolted towards the far door. He followed. Noticing the amputation set which had interested Ophelia, he made a grab for the muscle scalpel.
‘“Turn, hell-hound, turn!”’ cried Basil. ‘“Thou bloodier villain than terms can give thee out!”’
There didn’t seem much point in arguing with him any longer, so I disappeared down the deck.
Naturally, one dislikes being conspicuous in public. But this is jolly difficult to avoid when you’re being chased by a chap with a six-inch knife in his hand yelling bloody murder. The passengers finishing off the Gala Dance in the Veranda Bar understandably looked startled at this interruption of normal shipboard routine, but instead of trying to save my life by catching Basil with a deck-croquet mallet they all removed themselves from the theatre of operations as quickly as possible. I ran on. The only thought that occurred to me was its being six times round the deck to the mile, and wondering whether Basil or I were best over the distance.
‘“Then yield thee, coward!” Basil shouted behind me. “Yield”.’
I turned a corner, and ran into Captain Spratt and the Bos’n.
‘What the devil – ! Hell’s teeth! It’s that steward again.’
I stopped. Basil stopped. He stood for a moment looking rather foolish.
‘Drop that knife at once!’ thundered Captain Spratt. ‘Unless you want me personally to beat the daylights out of you. Doctor!’
‘Sir?’
‘Became violent, eh?’
‘Yes, sir,’ I panted. ‘In the hospital. Had to run for my life.’
‘Just like the woman at Teneriffe. Bos’n – clap that man in irons.’
‘Here, I say!’ Basil suddenly seemed to realise his part had got out of hand. ‘You can’t simply put me away in some sort of padded cell–’
‘I can certainly assure you your cell won’t be padded.’ The Captain quickly took a pinch of snuff. ‘Brandishing an offensive weapon is mutiny, and mutiny on the high seas is punishable by imprisonment for life. On our return to London you will be handed over to the police and – after, of course, the usual trial – locked up in one of Her Majesty’s prisons for a considerable period of time. You may think yourself lucky Beauchamp. In earlier days I could have hanged you at sunrise tomorrow from the yardarm. Take him away.’
‘But it’s all a frightful mistake!’ The Bos’n caught Basil in a full Nelson. ‘Just ask the doctor here – he’s one of my oldest friends–’
‘Mad as a hatter,’ nodded the Captain.
‘But Gaston, dear chappie! I am, aren’t I?’
‘Raving, I suppose, Doctor?’
‘Sad case, sir.’
‘Gaston! Grim! Ever since those days in the dear old digs–’
‘Never seen him before he came on board, of course,’ I added.
‘Gaston! I appeal to you–’
‘Carry on, Bos’n,’ said the Captain.
I was a cad again, of course. But I didn’t care. At last I’d been cured of the cataracts which had smitten my eyes since Christmas.
Simply to get a bit of her own back on Basil, Ophelia had deliberately tipped out the story of our love-life and jolly near lost me my skin. It suddenly struck me what a shocking little vixen the woman was. I wondered why on earth I hadn’t tumbled to it long before that frightful chase round the deck, when she’d rapidly changed in status from the light of my life to my
bête blonde
.
You can understand she found a pretty reserved welcome the next morning when she had the temerity to tap on the door of my cabin.
‘Darling, you
do
look pale and wan,’ she greeted me. ‘Perhaps you’re not very well?’
‘Not through lack of exercise, I assure you,’ I returned crisply.
‘You mean last night, darling? I’m so sorry about it. Dreadfully. I’d no idea Basil would get so excited.’
‘Excited? Damn it! There was nearly murder on the high seas.’
Ophelia gave a sigh. ‘I can’t understand why he was so annoyed. After all, Basil and I are nothing to each other any longer, are we?’
I snorted. ‘At least the chap’s securely shut up between the chain lockers and the paint store, and won’t be able to go round murdering anyone else till we’re safely home in London.’
‘Poor Basil!’ murmured Ophelia.
‘He’s only got what he jolly well deserved.’
‘Poor dear Basil!’
‘Poor dear Basil, indeed! What about poor dear me?’ I demanded. ‘You might have come up this morning and found me in slices.’
‘But it’s so terrible! Thinking of Basil rotting in jail.’
‘Personally, the idea keeps me in fits.’
Ophelia gave a little quiver, and started to weep like a cloudburst at Old Trafford.
Of course, you need a heart like a kerbstone to remain unmoved by a woman’s tears, particularly Ophelia’s. After a minute or two I began to shuffle a bit, and said uneasily:
‘I expect he’s quite comfy, really. He gets regular grub and plenty of fags. And after sharing a cabin with twelve other stewards, it must be rather nice to be on your own for a change.’
‘I just can’t bear to think of him!’ I offered a handkerchief. ‘Dear Basil! Do you suppose there are rats in his cell? He was always so frightened of mice.’
I passed the duty-free cigarette tin, but she was weeping so much she quite ruined half of them.
‘And Sybil’s terribly upset, too,’ Ophelia went on, blowing her nose.
‘Sybil? You mean Sybil van Barn?’
‘She’s really a very sweet person, once you get to know her. We had a long cry together this morning.’
I was about to make some nasty remark about bitch eat bitch, but all this weeping was making me so rattled I felt it time to turn off the supply at the mains.
‘Now look here, Ophelia,’ I said, civilly enough. ‘We mustn’t worry too much about Basil. If I simply explain to the Captain the perfect truth that he’s really a psychiatric case, the chap will suffer nothing worse than being paid off at Rio and going home in another ship as a DBS.’
‘A DB what?’
‘A Distressed British Seaman.’
‘Not Basil! No, never!’
‘But dash it, Ophelia!’ The blasted chap had anyway been a distressed British actor long enough not to notice the difference. ‘This routine happens quite often–’
Ophelia dried her eyes. ‘I’m going up to talk to the Captain.’
‘I shouldn’t think that will do much good,’ I told her. ‘Not by the look on his face when he and Basil last met.’
‘Well, we’ll see.’ She produced a compact to dab her nose. ‘Poor, poor Basil!’
‘Poor Basil!’ I muttered, as she left. I gave a convenient cushion a kick. Not only was the woman a first-class harpy, but, what was worse, she was absolutely ruddy impossible as well.
With Ophelia and Basil out of my life, there was nothing to occupy the vacant space except Sir Lancelot’s memoirs. As we were getting on for Rio de Janeiro and the ventilating system kept breaking down the ship was pretty cosy, but I sat with a towel round my waist ploughing through stacks of after-dinner speeches the old boy had made years ago, which I hoped sounded better when you were leaning back after six courses with a cigar and brandy.
But as the day went by I couldn’t help growing sorry for old Basil, sweating it out down below next to the paint. I supposed he wasn’t a bad cove at heart. His only snag was the occupational disease of forever acting. During our little run round the deck, of course, he wasn’t really Basil Beauchamp chasing Gaston Grimsdyke with an operating knife. He was Macduff after Macbeth all over Dunsinane. So a couple of mornings before we were due to arrive I pushed Sir Lancelot’s life aside, slipped into my white uniform, and stepped on deck with the idea of bribing one of his guards to send him in a nice cold bottle of beer.
I turned the corner of the fan-house and tripped over the chap himself, stretched on a steamer chair dressed in purple bathing-trunks and holding a large gin and tonic.
‘Basil!’ I exclaimed. ‘But my dear old lad! You’ve escaped.’
He returned the greeting with a long blank stare.
‘But damn it!’ I demanded. ‘What on earth are you doing, lounging about in the sun with the first-class passengers?’
‘I happen to
be
a first-class passenger, thank you,’ he replied coldly.
I wondered for a moment if all his nasty experiences had really unhinged him.
Basil took a puff of the cigar he happened to be smoking. ‘Do I gather from your epaulettes you are the ship’s doctor?’
‘Of course I’m the ship’s doctor, you idiot. You know jolly well–’
‘Then kindly remember your position as a member of the crew.’
‘Now look here.’ I glanced round. ‘A lark’s a lark, but I wish you’d chuck playing the travelling milord and explain it. Besides, if old Shuttleworth comes and catches you–’
‘I don’t understand, Doctor.’ Basil looked me up and down. ‘Indeed, I don’t even recall seeing you before today.’
‘Basil, you fool! Why, even in the old digs–’
‘Mr Beauchamp, if you please. Nip across to the bar and fetch me another gin and tonic, will you?’
‘You get your own ruddy gin and tonics.’
Basil sighed. ‘Dear me, the insubordination of the crew. I really must write to the Company about it.’
‘Why the hell,’ I demanded, ‘aren’t you this very moment picking oakum in the bilges?’
Basil slowly finished his drink. ‘I have a very good friend on board – a Miss Ophelia O’Brien. Perhaps you know her? She acquainted Captain Spratt with certain facts concerning my presence in the ship, and prevailed on the dear old gentleman to effect my release. After a few formalities before our consul in Rio, I shall be released from my contract with the shipping company. There being no option clause, I am then free to return to my native land.’
‘Yes, sweating it out as a DBS among the coffee beans in a beastly tramp.’
‘Another good friend on board – a Mrs van Barn,’ Basil went on calmly, ‘has prevailed on the Captain to accept my first-class fare for the rest of the voyage. She is also most kindly defraying my expenses to London. We shall be travelling together, via New York. I shall be staying at the Waldorf. By the way, Doctor – I may be needing some extensive medical treatment on board for my nerves. I shall probably summon you to my cabin at odd intervals during the afternoon, so don’t bother to lie down for your customary nap, will you?’
We arrived at Rio de Janeiro.
Ophelia flew home to London. I didn’t bother to say good-bye to her. Basil flew with Mrs van Barn to New York, and I didn’t expect him to bother to say good-bye to me, anyway. I was left leaning on the rail, thinking about life.
‘Doctor!’
I turned as Captain Spratt appeared.
‘Sir?’
‘Doctor, I have a matter of some seriousness to raise with you,’ he began. ‘Mr Shuttleworth has reported that on one occasion during the voyage you were seen in the Veranda Bar not only drinking
crème de menthe
, but actually holding the hand of a young lady passenger, who shall go nameless. You know perfectly well my views on that sort of thing. You are absolutely without excuse. I have no alternative whatever but to suspend your shore leave in Rio de Janeiro, and forbid you from drinking at all or appearing on the passenger decks for the remainder of the voyage. Good afternoon.’