PROLOGUE
THE CAPTAIN’S DILEMMA
Captain Hargreaves stood on the deck reflecting on the stationary yacht, his life on it and the future. He gazed out over the water to the shore of this part of the Dominican Republic where all appeared idyllic and seemed beautifully serene. A tainted paradise, however. The Dominican Republic had more than its fair share of problems, having a border as it did with a desperately poor Haiti.
He wished the yacht and all who were on it were calm, happy and relaxed, either as passengers or crew, but it was a seething mass of discontent with a modern form of mutiny threatening all aboard. He felt stressed, worn out and in danger of losing control of – well, everything.
An experienced merchant seaman, he had opted for the private sector after realising the difference not only in salary but his own personal advancement in his career. He had gone further, faster and had thus far enjoyed his position as captain of this, his third command. Of medium height, slim and athletic he was capable, charming and fitted in with crew and passengers alike. Both a man’s man and a woman’s man he was popular with everyone. His family accepted his inevitable absences but luxuriated in the perks of accompanying him on occasions. In his early fifties he was content – except for this looming disaster. That’s all he could call it.
The current owner had lost all interest in the boat. Two yachts actually, the second one being laid up waiting for refurbishment – or probably not now. His financial problems were pressing and he wanted to get ‘shot of them’. His words. Cold hard business. No room for sentiment, the comfort of the passengers, the future of the crew, reputation of the yacht and its previous good standing within the holiday trade. That had gone out of the window little by little months ago. In spite of the company membership in various travel organisations to help beleaguered passengers, Captain Hargreaves wasn’t convinced it would help in all the prevailing circumstances – even if memberships were fully paid up. The yacht’s office back in the UK had ceased all communication. The running of the company was not his responsibility but the boat, passengers and crew were and he had little idea where to start without backup. He felt very alone.
Dissatisfaction permeated the atmosphere, making it hard to please anyone, keep morale from sinking to its lowest ebb and getting the crew to do much at all. A lack of pay, including his own, had set the Captain an almost impossible task. Intermittent pay had kept a modicum of goodwill going. Now he really felt mutiny was looming and he had no idea how to cope with it. How would he repatriate the passengers if he couldn’t establish a link to the necessary associations? Ask them to pay for themselves and sort it out later? With whom? If the crew mutinied it would be up to them to get themselves away, unless they stayed to sort out wages owing with possible new owners. How did modern mutiny on a westernised boat work? This was no pirate ship. Till fairly recently, it had been a joy to work aboard this super yacht with a genuine feel of happiness in all quarters. What a difference a day, a month, and more could make!
The one glimmer of hope was that the owner had told him there might be a buyer sooner than expected. A Mr Madden, who had heard of this yacht coming up for sale through a boating partner in Spain, was considering the overall situation. Mr Madden, who was in the travel business but as yet without experience of boats of this size, had expressed a serious interest as a first foray into cruising holidays. Expansion was his middle name. He and his representatives were due out in a few days to see for themselves what was going on and if the yacht was all they wanted in a vessel of this kind. Captain Hargreaves had thoroughly investigated Mr Madden and his holiday group ‘Madden’s Magic Carpet Tours’. It had expanded from European coach tours to a Spanish multipurpose resort and now possibly this.
Captain Hargreaves had had a serious pep talk with the thirty plus crew about new ownership and the impending visit. This had been generally well received. Things had eased slightly, with a resumption of near normal service to the one hundred passengers – service that was less grumpy and less resentful. Trips ashore had alleviated ‘cabin fever’ but due to lack of money for much fuel they had had to be limited. Most of the money had to go on fresh produce purchased from the shore trips.
As the yacht had not moved for five days due to engine trouble, fuel had been saved but the downside was that a desperately needed part for the engine had not arrived, even though the biggest docks in the country were not far away. ‘Oh, for an Amazon delivery!’ thought the Captain. The budget that had been given to him was running low. Wages were supposed to be paid direct into bank accounts from the owner’s company. This, of course, had not been happening recently.
The biggest fear – yes fear – of Captain Hargreaves was the feeling that he had - in the absence of regular money, some of the crew had taken to illicit activity. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but furtiveness had sprung up both onshore and on the yacht.
Everyone was affected. Those who were not actually involved, suspected something was going on, didn’t know what to do about it and were wondering what should be done – either report anything they found or, alternatively, muscle in on any illicit activities.
It could only be smuggling, but what? As they were going nowhere, what was the point? But, of course, Haiti was up-country, rife with smuggling and crime gangs. It had a long, unguarded border for the most part. Captain Hargreaves thought about the various implications of this. There was the itinerary of the yacht and what each port may offer smugglers. Or, if the crew just upped and left, the possibility that they could take whatever ‘it’ was with them.
The only vaguely amusing incident had been when an American ‘entrepreneur’ had chartered part of the boat on behalf of a foreign company which wanted to thank its workers for exceptional service in the face of impossible circumstances. Overestimating her fluency in Spanish, she had got totally mixed up between the words ‘labourer’ and ‘labrador’, and had booked cabins with outside access for the dogs and false grass for ‘comfort breaks’ which now lay around taking up space with no dogs to enjoy the area. The owner had washed his hands of this mistake, leaving someone else – anyone – to deal with it. When rumour got out that loads of dogs would be aboard, the scheme backfired anyway as other potential customers had cancelled, imagining they would be surrounded by dogs and dog poo. This was supposed to be an ‘adults-only’ ship with not a child – or dog – in sight.
Captain Hargreaves knew some of the current passengers were also swingers. It hadn’t taken long to realise how much nocturnal cabin swapping was going on.! This had proved another headache. As far he was concerned, what consenting adults did in their spare time was their business, unless it upset anyone else. In this case it had, and some of the other passengers had begun to consider raising a moral crusade.
The Captain took a deep breath, held it and then blew it out, his shoulders immediately drooping. He should get back to work to face seriously dissatisfied passengers. What an almighty mess!
