Free The Voyage of the Golden Handshake by Terry Waite Page B

suite, had been delayed, frequent announcements were made by the Cruise Director, which meant that Albert found himself in a constant state of motion between the Information Post and his cabin. Shortly before four in the afternoon, he was summoned yet again to be told that the ship would dock soon after five and would depart about seven that evening. All wanting to go ashore to sample the delights of the town, or to collect their drinks for the cruise, were told to assemble in the main ballroom. The drinks party would not have a courtesy coach as there was a strike at the port, but the Hotel Director had made special arrangements and there was no need for anyone to worry.
    Albert left Alice sleeping and arrived in the ballroom promptly at four. The drinks party was by far the largest group; the majority of them were clutching small pieces of paper and mouthing the French words they had learned that very morning. Radley, still very tired, addressed them. He said that they would proceed ashore in crocodile fashion with himself at the head and the Cruise Director bringing up the rear. Earlier, this assignment had almost caused a fight between these two senior men as Enzo wanted to take the lead. Radley, quite rightly, resisted this suggestion with the argument that it was his show and he would lead it.
    When it appeared that the party was complete, Radleyinstructed his charges to hold onto the waist of the person in front of them and not to let go. They proceeded to the security desk where the crew member on duty threw up his hands in despair at the sight of so many passengers about to leave at once, so he simply waved them all on. They moved uneasily down the gangplank and stepped onto French soil, continuing to hold tightly on to each other. As ‘Vin Bon Marché’ was only, according to Radley, a short walk away, they proceeded at a gentle pace. On they proceeded along the dock front and into what seemed to be a waste area, still keeping crocodile formation.
    They had just reached a collection of pre-fabricated buildings when there suddenly appeared two gendarmes on huge motorcycles. The impressive-looking policemen pulled up in front of Radley and brought the whole procession to a halt. Speaking rapidly in French, they fired several questions at him and he, not having attended the morning class so ably conducted by Enzo, was mystified. A message was passed down the crocodile and Enzo was summoned. He arrived, somewhat bad-tempered, saying that he ought to have led the procession all along as one never knew what might happen on foreign soil.
    The senior officer addressed him in rapid French. Enzo did not reply but produced a small notebook from his pocket which he consulted. The other policeman now addressed him, in what seemed to be a more angry manner. Enzo frantically turned the pages of his little book but continued to remain silent. Finally,the senior policeman produced a radio and within moments several other police motor cyclists appeared, together with three police vans.
    A man in plainclothes jumped out of one of the vans and questioned Radley. ‘What is the meaning of this demonstration?’ He had very passable English, even if he was angry. ‘Today there is a strike, and demonstrations are forbidden. Yes. You understand? Forbidden.’ He wagged his finger at both Enzo and Radley, who recoiled in shock, then turned to Enzo and hissed, ‘You are in France, old man. Why do you not speak French? Why do you come with English rabble to strike?’
    Enzo remained speechless. Although he would never admit it, his command of French only extended to a few pages of the ‘Vin Bon Marché’ guide to buying wine. After that, he was as much at sea as any of the others. Also, to be called an ‘old man’ greatly insulted his dignity. He turned on his heel and prepared to walk away, but the policeman was having none of it.
    ‘So,’ he said, ‘we will see what you English are made of,’ and with that he snapped a pair of