The QE2 Is Missing

The job of the Staff Captain was to shoulder whatever of the Captain’s burdens that he could. He was an accredited Ship’s Master as well and commanded the QE2 when the Captain was on leave. While at sea he was very much concerned with staff matters and worked closely with the Hotel Manager whose four gold bands matched his own four stripes. Most of the day-to-day matters concerning the passengers they worked out between them. Only when the problem became too important was the Captain bothered. And he was very much bothered this time.

“See that this is entered into the log,” the Captain said, glaring at the envelope as though it contained a poisonous serpent. “I don’t like the front office interfering with the running of this ship.”

“I agree,” the Staff Captain said amicably. “But you must admit that the passengers are what pay to keep the old girl going — so some concessions must be made.” He took out a single sheet of paper and passed it over without glancing at it. Captain Rapiey read it quickly, his eyebrows drawing together in a scowl as he did so. In the end he snorted loudly and turned to look out at the ocean before he passed the paper back to the Staff Captain.

“Bloody lunacy,” he said. “Whatever can they be thinking of?”

“Making money,” Flint said, reading the orders. “This is a diplomatic affair of some kind, plenty of extra charges being paid for the extra service. Good headlines eventually and in the long run plenty of good publicity.” As soon as he had finished reading he looked out at the sea just as the Captain had done a few moments earlier.

“It’s a preposterous jumble of cloak-and-dagger nonsense,” the Captain said. “High ranking government officials with diplomatic passports… all possible aid… a seaplane now in the air and waiting for a prearranged signal to land in order to board these passengers! I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“All the better. The passengers will love it, they’ll take pictures and show their friends at home. You couldn’t have arranged a better diversion if you tried.”

“Nonsense. It’s a dangerous stunt, that’s all it is. And what if there is an accident? It’s not safe to put a plane down on that ocean out there. Unsafe.”

The Staff Captain smiled.

“Come on, Dave, you’re letting all the responsibility-to-the-passengers stuff go to your head. During the war you wouldn’t have thought twice about seeing a seaplane land on an ocean like that. Wind seven knots, long rollers, easy enough to put the thing down in the trough between them, visibility still over a mile at the worst. A piece of cake. What do you say?”

Captain Rapley thought for a long moment — then smiled. “Send the signal. Until they are aboard the ship they are not my responsibility. If some screwball pilot wants to wreck his craft landing near me it’s not my problem at all.”

“Spoken like a sporting man! Let’s bring them in and see what we’re getting in the surprise package.”

“But see that every bit of this goes into the log! Time of signal, time of arrival, weather conditions, everything. And be sure you describe the sea conditions exactly and be absolutely sure that Sparks makes a recording of everything said. Be this on their own heads. And stop all engines. By the time they arrive I want us dead in the water.”

He sat drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair until the Staff Captain returned.

“They’re on the way,” he said.

“All right. Lower the boarding ladder and the number one cruise launch. Better go with it yourself to see that the transfer goes off without a hitch.”

The matter was out of the Captain’s hands now; he was just as much a spectator as the excited passengers staring out of the windows or braving the rain for a better view from the decks. He watched with the rest of them as the big four-engined flying boat appeared out of the low-hanging clouds. It swept low over the ship — probably to check the wind direction from their flags — the engines roaring mightily, stains on the white skin showing clearly. Then it was past and banking into a wide turn. Dropping lower.