All at Sea with Truffles Read online

  Back at the stateroom, Sheila let me out onto the balcony and then disappeared, saying she was going to browse round the shops on board again before returning in time for the afternoon canapé delivery. I hoped she wouldn’t return with another handbag! I just had time to fit in a nice little nap before she returned carrying a bag (not a handbag, a paper bag), which she opened to reveal a teddy bear attired in a cream vest bearing the ship’s name in gold. “Cute, isn’t he?” she said, sitting the bear down on a shelf next to a small bear called Curry Bear, who has been with her on every cruise she’d taken. He must have sailed thousands and thousands of miles all around the world. Sheila always says he is her good luck travelling bear and she’d certainly never go on a ship without him. Apparently, he came to her in quite an unexpected way. Some years ago she and her late partner, Peter, had parked their motor machine outside a very large well-known store that sold electrical stuff. When they came out, stuck behind those things on the front of the motor machine that push raindrops away was this little bear, who was wearing a sash over his chest with his name on it - like lady human beauty queens wear! Sheila fell in love with him right away and he’s been with her ever since. Aaah!

  How time flies when you’re enjoying yourself, as they say. It was nearly canapé time again for her and afternoon nap time for me. We sat out in the sun, blinking in its brightness. Sheila generally wears those round glass things that hang on her ears and cover the front of her eyes, and she now replaced these with some black ones. How can she see anything now? I wondered. Very soon the smiley food steward arrived with her treats and, sitting with the remainder of the bottle of bubbly at her side, she sighed again. “This is the life!” It seemed to be her favourite saying since she’d been on board! Mind you, I felt I could understand now why she did like ‘the life’ so much - it was a million miles away from our quiet rural life together nowadays in Cornwall. No wonder she tells friends that she can’t last more than six months of not being on board a ship before getting withdrawal symptoms! She knows that in my previous books I have made my catty observations on my own experiences of living in, and to a certain extent adapting to, a human environment. I was pleased that she had now thought to give me an insight into her ‘other’ life on a cruise ship. Now I understood it all much more and - I suppose - I should be more tolerant of her sticking me in the cat camp for the few weeks she is away each year. Over the years and at all other times she does faithfully cater to my every whim and need, I told myself, so she really does deserve her trips away. Oh dear, am I sounding a bit maudlin now? Sorry about droning on, but you get my drift, don’t you?

  We spent the next hour or so lapping up the sunshine and all was peaceful, with just the faint sound of music drifting over from some other part of the ship. I got up and wandered towards the edge to look at the C. Well, well, I thought, I can see something else right at the far-distant edge of the C! Green- topped grey/brownish hills were rising up out of it. I stood up, my paws resting on the glass wall, to see more. How exciting - it must be land! Hurray! Hurray!

  The evening was not a ‘formal night’, so Sheila didn’t take quite so long to get ready, though to my mind she still spent far too long fussing about her head fur. Perhaps she was hoping it would look as immaculate as mine always does - well, no chance dear! She had ordered in my dinner and I eagerly waited to see what would turn up. I wondered if it would exceed my expectations - and I have to say it did! It was a plate of delicious braised pork medallions. I never get the chance to eat much pork, because Sheila has always said that too much of it isn’t good for cats. Too much? I’ve never had much of it, let alone too much of it! She chopped it up and I was almost drooling as she was doing it (but not quite, because to drool is bad manners and I, of course, have purrfect manners!) I gobbled down the pork while she put the last finishing touches to her outfit and sprayed that sickly smelling stuff on her neck. She waved me goodbye and went out, so I sat and had a lick-over, still savouring the delicious taste of the pork. Then I nipped up onto my cushion on the sofa for a doze and to digest my dinner. Even though I was now pleasantly full, I still wondered if Eduardo would bring me a treat when he came in later - I reckoned I could just about squeeze it in!

  Eduardo arrived, so I got up and stretched before walking over to him and rubbing against his ankle. “‘Ello, Trufools,” he said, patting my head. “What ‘av I got for you, eh?” He reached into his pocket and produced a little parcel, which he unwrapped to reveal several little white rings that smelt fishy! What on earth …? I thought. “You’ll like these, Trufools,” he said, smiling as I looked up at him. “Squeeds!” Tentatively I took a bite and, yes, although they looked peculiar they were quite nice - not perhaps the best things I’ve ever eaten, but there again you don’t know anything unless you try it! I’d thought that I would be tasting some new things on this ship, so I was glad to have the chance to try these fish rings. But I wouldn’t be too disappointed if Eduardo didn’t bring them again! I burped and returned to the sofa. He carried on with his duties and transformed a towel into something I didn’t recognise in the least. “Sea lion,” he said, as he gave me a goodbye pat. Blimey, I thought, I hope there aren’t any lions out there swimming in the C! I wouldn’t like to meet one of them out there - another reason to make sure I never fell overboard!

  I was awakened some time later, when Sheila returned from her evening dinner. “Hello, Truffles,” she said. “Well, that was another smashing meal and afterwards I went to a trivia quiz, which was fun. I met a nice couple there from Scotland called June and Bobby. We made up a team together with another couple called Val and Ken, and as they came from Essex and I’m from Cornwall, we called ourselves ‘The Triangles’. I blinked. How did she arrive at that? “Cornwall, Scotland and Essex make a sort of geographical triangle,” she explained. “Never mind, Truffles, I know you don’t know what geography is or what the hell I’m talking about anyway! We did okay - we didn’t win, but we were in the top five. I think we might go to some more trivia sessions when they come up. One question stumped everybody. I bet you’d know, if only you could speak. The question was: what creature in the world has the longest tail? People suggested lemur, crocodile, blue whale and all sorts.” What’s an ‘all sorts’? I wondered. “Anyway,” she continued, “the answer was a giraffe! Nobody could believe it, but the question master said it had definitely been verified!” She shook her head in disbelief. “Right, come on, we’ll pop into the casino and then have a night-time coffee again on the way back.”

  At the casino I resigned myself to a half-hour or so of the cac… caco… cacoph… bloody racket from all the hundreds of money- eating machines. I curled up underneath Sheila’s chair whilst she sat repeatedly pressing the buttons on her favourite machine, trying to persuade it to cough up! Eventually she gave a squeak of excitement that made me jump, and the machine made an even more horrendous noise! “Oooh, Truffles, I’m fifty dollars up! Great! I’ll stop now while I’m winning!” Sheila pulled out the little white slip of paper, with a big grin on her face. I wondered why, now that she was on a winning streak, she had stopped. If it were me in her paw covers, I would have carried on - but then I dare say I have more guts than she does!

  We wended our way back up to the coffee place upstairs, getting the usual comments en route from people, such as: “Did the cat bring you luck” or “Is that a cat I can see, or have I had too much to drink?” Sheila sat down at the only empty table and ordered her Amoretto coffee. I lay down underneath her chair and observed. While she was waiting for the coffee, one of the ship’s hossifers came up and asked if he could join her as the rest of the room was so full. “Of course!” she replied. He was rather handsome. I bet she’s quite pleased that all the other tables are taken, I thought! I listened as they made the usual polite conversation, and then they started exchanging nautical stories. Sheila had once lived in a coastal village in Cornwall where they did a lot of fishing. She told the hossifer about a rather eccentri
c man of the cloth, who would take services when a human’s spirit had gone up to the sky to live but they had asked that their body be - for some reason I could never understand - buried under the water. Personally, I couldn’t think of anything worse - I never want MY body to be put in any horrid water when I eventually go and join my old pussy pals in that big cat basket in the sky! I’ll settle for being buried in the ground in a biscuit tin! I’ve heard these stories before many times and the people she’s told them to have always found them quite amusing. Not that death is in the least a funny subject, but there again, there’s often a bit of humour to be found in anything, even the saddest things. I thought you might like to hear some of these stories, which are all true - so here we go!

  A person high up in the navy had passed on and it was decided that his body would be buried at sea in a designated area off the coast of Plymouth. The vicar was friendly with the skipper of a local fishing boat, and on several occasions in the past the boat had been used for such ceremonies. On the evening before the funeral the skipper of the fishing boat got the crew to give it a good clean and they rigged up an old door on which they intended to place the weighted-down body bag and then slide it down off the door and overboard at the appropriate moment. The next day dawned and the sad little group arrived on the boat - all the men in full naval uniform, complete with ceremonial swords, and all the ladies in their best hats. It was quite an upper-class turnout. The vicar proceeded with the service, and at the point where he said, “We commit his body to the sea,” two of the crew members were supposed to raise the door up at a slight angle so that the body slid off. Higher and higher they raised the door, but nothing happened - the body in its weighted bag refused to slide off. Eventually the door was literally vertical and they were shaking it, and still they couldn’t budge the body despite all their efforts. The door was lowered and they then realised what had happened. The night before, the skipper had decided to smarten up the door by giving it a coat of varnish. You’ve guessed it! It was still sticky and in the morning when the heavy body bag was placed onto it, well, it stuck fast! Oh dear, what a disaster! The poor widow was in floods of tears! Eventually they managed to prise the bag off and then the service went ahead. Afterwards the vicar told the two crew members that they had let him down badly, but really it was just an unfortunate accident and they’d had no way of knowing that the skipper had varnished the door after they’d left the boat the previous evening - neither had he realised that by the morning the varnish wouldn’t have dried!

  Another couple of disasters happened on cruise ships. Because cruise ships carry so very many people, they have to be prepared in case passengers become ill or even die, which does happen from time to time. A lady had cruised many times and, although she had died on land, she apparently had always said she would like to be buried at sea. So a little ceremony was arranged on a cruise ship for her relatives, and it had been planned for dawn, before most passengers had got up. The lady was small in stature and did not weigh very much. So the chief engineer of the ship said that they would have to weight the body bag down with some heavy bits of scrap iron from the engine room area. Accordingly, the bag was loaded with old heavy metal parts. The captain took the service, which went well, and the lady was released, as she had wished, over the side of the ship. Unfortunately, as the body bag fell downwards all the heavy stuff shot to the leading end, and so instead of landing on the sea in a horizontal position and then gradually falling to the seabed in a restful pose, the lady ended up going into the sea vertically, feet downwards, and planted herself in the seabed in that position! Afterwards, whenever the ship sailed over that particular part of the Red Sea, the captain always remembered the lady who would be standing forever upright on the seabed!

  On another cruise ship a similar dawn ceremony was arranged. This particular ship had an antique brass gun turret that had been adapted to ‘launch’ bodies over the side. About half an hour or so before the ceremony, the captain came by to ensure that all was in order. It was. However, one of the crew members (who had been giving the brass a final polish), perhaps in awe of the captain watching him, inadvertently pressed the launching lever and - whoosh! - over the side the body bag went, right down to the bottom of the sea! There was no way that the bag could be retrieved, so everyone had to think quickly! In the end, when the relatives arrived for the service, all looked in perfect order. The ceremony went well and the relatives happily watched their loved one going to the final resting place he had requested only it wasn’t their loved one that they were watching. They were bidding farewell to a body bag full of potatoes! Still, the man did end up in more or less the right place - just a few miles behind!

  One last true story! This time it took place on a submarine. A retired submariner had died and had requested that his ashes were scattered at sea from the submarine on which he had served. The day arrived and the submarine sailed on the surface of the water to the area where the ashes were to be scattered. When it arrived at the spot, the vicar, carrying the urn and followed by the relatives, began to walk along the top of the deck to the bow, where he intended to carry out the service. As he was making his way there, he thought he’d better just check that the ashes inside the urn were okay and that he would be able to get the lid off smoothly at the appropriate time. He unscrewed the lid just as he was walking right by the submarine’s air intake valves, and immediately all the ash was sucked out of the urn and disappeared into the valves! Some wag said, “Well, he’d always wanted to work in the engine room!”

  The storytelling and their conversation ended, Sheila and the hossifer bade each other goodnight and he asked her if she was going to the Senior Hossifers’ Cocktail Party the following week. She said she had already received an invitation so she would be there. What were these cocktail things everyone seemed to like so much? If they were made out of the rear ends of chickens, I would rather fancy one myself!

  We went back to the stateroom and carried out our bedtime routines. “We’ll have a walk into Gibraltar tomorrow morning, Truffles,” said Sheila. We slept.

  Going ashore

  We awoke bright and early and it was another beautiful day. I went out onto the balcony for my morning ablutions and then went to look through the glass wall. I was faced with a sight I had certainly never seen before! We were parked by the side of a dock similar to Southampton’s, where many people bustled about and there were long gangways going down from the ship to the ground. Beyond that was a very big building, with many others dotted around the area. I could see another big cruise ship parked further down the dock - but not as gi… gig… gigan… big as our ship, I was pleased to note! And it was not nearly so smart. As readers of my diaries will know, I like to feel I am superior in everything I do, and being on the biggest and best ship in sight definitely made me feel superior! Further down the dock I could see lots of other smaller ships, but they weren’t like our beautiful floating town; they were full of great big boxes and heavy-looking stuff and seemed very dirty, whilst our ship was gleaming white. I could see some of our crew members holding long sticks with what looked like bunches of twigs on the top and dipping them into cans of white stuff (milk perhaps?) and then wiping this white stuff over bits of the side of the ship where maybe there had been some mark. There was no doubt that this ship was pristine (yes, another posh word I have in my vocabulary!) inside and out at all times. Talking of the word ‘posh’, with the service and attention to detail all round, the passengers were made to feel like real celebrities on this ship. Mind you, I am a real celebrity!Beyond the docks I could see a road leading to many more buildings, and behind them there were rows of houses like you live in back home. I wondered if the people here looked after cats, too! Further on I could see in the distance the green tops of trees and hills, and towering over everything in sight was a huge rock. It all looked very exciting and I couldn’t wait to explore. Other than our back garden, the road outside our house and the various neighbours’ gardens, I
have to admit that I have never had the opportunity to look around anywhere else. So this was going to be the experience of a lifetime and I was jolly well going to make the most of it!

  I turned to go back inside, and as I reached the patio door I nearly had kittens! Suddenly a shadow blotted out the sun. An extremely large bird, much bigger than me and mostly black with a bit of white on its tummy and an evil-looking beak - definitely by far the biggest and ugliest bird I’ve ever seen close up - landed on the rail on top of the outer glass wall! I gulped, but my natural reactions kicked in and I took a hefty sideways swipe at it. Sadly, I missed and slithered to a halt at the foot of the wall in a heap! Oh, the shame of it! The bird flapped off, giving me a mocking glance over its shoulder, and joined another one that was perched on a roof opposite. I looked over at them, growling under my breath. How dare they make a fool of me! I’ve seen the odd seagull before when they’ve come into our garden, scavenging for the food that Sheila puts out for the little birds. (Well, she likes them to keep their strength up so they can get away from me and the cats next door!) These two, though, were not just ordinary-sized seagulls. They were seriously big and pretty menacing. I’d never seen birds quite like them before - oh, perhaps they were the mysterious birds with the cock tails? My legs were a bit wobbly, but I pulled myself together and casually wandered into the stateroom. It would never do for Sheila to see me discomposed by a bird!