First day at sea: Exploration
“Nat, stop bloody chewin’ my ear!”
Nat always does that if he wakes up first, and he’s lying behind me. He thinks it’s funny. That’s why most nights I make sure I’m the big spoon, lying behind him. I wake him up by kissing the back of his neck. Nice and gently waking him up, not making him think some monstrous carnivore is about to devour him. Eejit!
“Wakey-wakey, baby boy” laughed Nat. “Time to rise and shine…”
“You’ll get a shiner in a minute, Nat.”
Laughing, we both tumbled out of bed and fought our way towards the bathroom, both determined to be the first to the shower. I won. Nat doesn’t stand a chance against me. I’m taller, by an inch, heavier by a couple of pounds, stronger, by a ton, faster by a mile, and way cuter looking. Just ask Noah, Shane, Will or Travis. They are straight and so not biased.
Twenty minutes later, both of us showered and shaved - there are ’his’ and ‘hers’ bowls and mirrors in the bathroom - we headed off towards the swimming pool at the Pavillion Lounge. Though it is only just after 6 am the pool is open and there are a few people in it already. Our steward, Crisanto, had warned us that we needed to be early if we wanted to swim properly. Leave it too late, say after nine, and the pool is full of amphibians: people who are trapped in the transition between water and land, dabbling in both and good at neither. We swam for about half an hour then dried off and split up. I wanted to go to the gym and Nat wanted to go the driving range. Again, the early bird catches the worm rather than having to queue. Or ‘stand in line’ if you’re Nat.
It was almost eight thirty when we met up, as planned, down in the Grill Lounge that serves as the ante room to both the Princess and Queen’s Grill dining rooms. As we’re effectively travelling as Queen’s Grill passengers, though staying in a Princess Suite, we can use either restaurant. From what I can see, the only difference seems to be the colour of the tablecloths and décor in each of the restaurants with the Queen’s Grill seeking to be that tiny bit more upmarket. We strolled into the Queen’s Grill, just because, and were quickly shown to a two-seat table by the window for breakfast. Apparently, this table, with its great views, can be our designated table for the rest of the voyage.
I ordered a bowl of porridge, followed by a Full English. Nat decided to have a blueberry muffin followed by Eggs Benedict. His Eggs Benedict not only looked good, Nat said it was good, and he’s a fussy bugger about food, so I might try that tomorrow. The coffee and tea, scalding hot, were both served in silver pots. Cunard do things properly.
“I left a note for Crisanto, Boots,” said Nat as he poured himself a second coffee. “I’ve asked him to book us seats for the Planetarium this afternoon, and also for the Egyptology lecture tomorrow morning. We should look through the lecture programme later and decide what lectures we want to attend for the whole cruise. Crisanto said they quickly get booked out.”
“Definitely, Natters, we can do that next when we go the library. Get our places booked.”
There’s a very impressive list of lectures on offer during the passage, all of them given by experts in their field. I’ve got my eye on a couple of lectures given by a naval historian, one about the Titanic and one about the sinking of the Hood and then the hunt for the Bismark. There’s also one about the design of the Queen Mary herself, and then a few about U Boats and the Battle of the Atlantic. There are a few that might interest Nat, mainly historical stuff about Egypt, Viking Voyages and Colonial America.
“We’ve an invitation to dinner tonight, Boots. That’s what the letter awaiting us was about. With this being the first day at sea, there’s a formal ‘Welcome Aboard’ dinner in the Queen’s Grill Restaurant. We can either just have our own table, the same one we had at breakfast by the window, or…”
“Port hole, Nat,”
“Yeah, window, baby boy,” laughed Nat, “Or we can join Mr and Mrs Hoffman for dinner at their table. They’re from Philadelphia, Boots. They’ve invited us to canapes at the Champagne Bar at seven thirty, then to dine with them.”
We’re going to dine with the Hoffmans. Nat’s not pressuring me or anything, but he wouldn’t have raised it if he didn’t want to do it. The Hoffmans must be pretty important people. That’s how Nat works. Networking. He’s got it in his genes.
“Not sure about that, Nattypus. I mean, Champagne Bar. That’s for Grown Ups, isn’t it? They might not let me in...”
Nat’s smiling as he finishes his coffee. “Deefer, you are more likely to be let in than me!”
“Not so, Baby Big Cheese. Anyway, I might have other plans for tonight. There was a hot guy in the gym, I’m sure he was giving me the eye. I might try and hunt him down…”
“Oh, yes?” smirked Nat. “Tall, dark, and handsome?”
“Not exactly, Nat. Shorter, blond and muscled. Like Travis and Shane combined. I’m sure he was following me round.”
Nat laughed. “Come on, Boots, let’s get up to the library and check that lecture programme, make sure we get our bookings in early.”
“Sure thing, Nat. And send word to the Hoffmans that we’ll be honoured to join them for dinner tonight.”
I was only half joking with Nat. About the guy in the gym. I’m sure he was following me around. Whenever I changed equipment, so did he. Followed me from the free weights to the rowing machine, from the treadmill to the resistance trainer. We didn’t speak. I mean, you don’t, do you? Not to complete strangers, in the gym. Just nodded. Smiled as our paths crossed. He was in the showers afterwards too. Not the next one to me, but the one after that. Smiled at me as he towelled himself down, but didn’t say anything. He looked a little older than me and Nat, but not by much. Maybe early twenties? Shorter than us. A soft rounded face, not the square jawed, finely chiselled features of Shane. More muscled though, like Travis. A guy who’s obviously spent time in the gym, but not overly done it like lots of bodybuilders who do it just to preen.
“Boots?”
“Sorry, Nat. Right with you. Just let me drain my cup and we can go. Library next?”
* * *
The library on the Queen Mary is impressive. The largest at sea with over nine thousand books. A bookshop too. Situated right up at the front of the ship on Deck Eight, it has amazing views out over the bows and ocean ahead. Up by the windows are some seats and small tables, ideal for some serious reading. Nat and I bagged a table and set down to reviewing the lecture schedule. Almost before our arses had touched the seats a steward appeared and asked if we wanted a drink, then returned within minutes with a silver tray, silver teapot and some fine bone china cups. Nat’s having a cup of tea whether he asked for it or not. No ice…
“You’ll love this one, Nat. ‘Treasures of Sutton Hoo’ Right up your street.”
“Sutton what?
“Sutton Hoo, Nat. Write it down on your list. Get us places booked.”
“What is Sutton Who?”
“Sutton Hoo, Nat. It’s a place. In Suffolk. I remember gran mentioning it. You’ll love it. It’s like Tutankhamun and the Vikings combined. They did a dig there. Found a ship burial, way before the Viking time, and with gold treasures as good as anything from Egypt.”
“Vikings set fire to ships and sent their heroes out to sea, Boots. There’d be nothing left…”
“Sutton Hoo is Saxon, Nat. Says so here. They buried a King on a ship under a mound with all his treasure. Gold helmet. Sword. Everything. You’ll love it.”
“Okay, Boots, I’ll add it to the list. Now, about this one for you. ‘HMS Hood: What if…?”
“Definitely, Nat.”
“And how about ‘Neanderthals: Monsters, evolutionary dead end, or arthritis?’ That sound intriguing…”
“Add it to the list, Nat.”
* * *
By eleven we had gone through the lecture programme, lecture by lecture, and decided on what we wanted to attend. The lectures are held in ‘Illuminations’, which is the Planetarium. It doubles as a lecture theatre when they aren’t doing the Universe thing. No, don’t even think it. I’m no girly swot: these lectures are actually really interesting. Cunard get world leading experts on their passages to do them. I’m an ‘Arts and Humanities’ scholar now, remember. Mum will be proud of me. Nat too.
“Let’s take a stroll, Boots. Churchill’s is just a few minutes away from here. Let’s go look.”
Churchill’s is the smoking area on QM2. Special air filtration and vents so it doesn’t set off the fire alarms. Fire is the worst thing that can happen at sea. Apart from icebergs, maybe. Or Krakens. Now, let’s make one thing clear: neither me nor Natty smoke. Not even cigars, though I do like the smell of cigar smoke. My dad doesn’t smoke, but he does occasionally have a cigar on special occasions like Christmas, or at the annual Shoot Dinner. The smell of cigars reminds me of dad and special occasions.
Churchill’s is a great bar. Loads of pictures and other memorabilia about Churchill. It’s pretty exclusive too, one of the quieter areas on the ship. As me and Nat wandered around, looking at the photos and reading the information boards, a steward popped into being and before I knew it Nat was ordering two whisky and sodas.
‘An aperitif before lunch, Boots.”
Looks like Nat has forgotten he’s the responsible adult and I’m the kid.
I could get used to this, though. We sat down at a table and started to read the ‘menu’ of cigars available and how each one was made: the type of tobacco leaf used, where it came from, how it was matured, rolled, stored and finally, how it tasted. I’m not going to start smoking, it’s bad for you, but the story of how they are made is fascinating. I might have a look later at the prices and buy a small box of something nice for my dad. He’s worth it.
* * *
We had lunch in the Britannia Restaurant. Just a light lunch, we don’t want to get fat. The Britannia Restaurant is the main dining area on the Queen Mary 2, where we should have been eating each day if Nat’s parents hadn’t upgraded us to ‘Grill’ class. It’s an amazing, two storey, Art Deco styled restaurant. The ‘greeter’ smiled as he swiped our cards as we entered, looked at us oddly but didn’t press the point that we were entitled to be dining in the more upmarket ‘Grill’ restaurants. We want to try all the facilities on the ship and from the pictures, the Britannia Restaurant looks amazing. Big, crowded and noisy, yes, but still pretty impressive. I had just a small portion of grilled salmon with a salad, Nat had a Club sandwich, and we both skipped dessert.
Straight from lunch, we headed to ‘Illuminations’ – which is the planetarium – the only one at sea. We were a quarter of an hour early, which allowed us to get good seats right in the centre of the auditorium, so the entire universe will effectively revolve around us. I suspect Nat thinks it already does revolve around him.
“Wow!”
That’s the best description I can think of for the show. It opened with a short introduction and lecture from a speaker from the Royal Astronomical Society, who outlined the show we were going to see – a tour around the cosmos. Hidden projectors suddenly burst into life, projecting images of the planets in our own solar system, then panning deeper out into space, showing various nebulae, star systems, the Milky Way, the deep Galactic Trenches. I can almost believe I saw the Millenium Falcon scuttling along between the asteroids. I have to tell Will all about this, he’ll love to hear about it. Did you know the expansion of the Universe is accelerating? That means that sometime, we won’t be able to look up and see another star in the skies. Just total blackness. They will all be too far away. Of course, we’d need to live to be a gazillion years old to see that but still, it makes you think, doesn’t it? In the great scheme of things, we don’t count for much.
The show was over all too soon. An aeon of stellar history compressed to under an hour.
“Come on, Boots,” said Nat, “It’s nearly three o’clock, time for us to go and have a walk around the decks maybe, call in at the Grill Lounge and talk to the concierge, make sure we get our booking in for lectures, then head back to the cabin, send an email or two to Will and our folks, then get changed for dinner.”
We didn’t walk round the decks. Three laps of Deck 7, the deck which has an external walkway all around the ship, constitutes one mile and so, after changing into T shirts and shorts, we jogged. We would have run, seen how many miles we could cover, burn off some calories, but with the weather being so good the deck was choc-a-bloc with gongoozlers and that limited our speed. Maybe tomorrow we can get up early again and do some serious laps of the deck before going swimming. Today though, we had to keep it slow and avoid crashing into people.
“Boots?”
“Sorry Nat, I was miles away.”
“I noticed.”
“It’s just I thought I saw someone I vaguely knew. Jogging the other way. Counter-clockwise. Can’t be though.”
“It could be, Craig. You’re good at spotting stuff. Like back in Fort Ligonier and Gettysburg when you picked out Fionna Carpenter.”
* * *
We strolled into the Champagne Bar exactly as the clock struck seven. I know I am biased, but Nathan looks so hot in his dinner jacket, or ‘tuxedo’ as he calls it. Black, white and copper red. I’m in my dinner jacket, both of us wearing our JLC Duo-face watches and green silk cummerbunds. That just serves to highlight Nat’s red hair and amber eyes even more. Everyone turned and looked at us.
Nat confidently led the way over to a group of people gathered in the centre of the bar, all revolving around a man and woman like planets orbiting a star. The guy looked like Colonel Sanders, trim white beard and a cream tuxedo jacket worn over black trousers. His wife, it has to be his wife, is wearing a stunning red dress. Mandy would love it. Maybe I need to start calling Nat “Moses”. The planets parted as we approached, allowing Nat and me to walk right up to Colonel Sanders. Mr and Mrs Hoffman, I presume.
Nat’s taking control.
“Mr Hoffman, Mrs Hoffman, may I introduce Master Craig Wright, son of Brigadier Mark Wright, late of Her Majesty’s Royal Marines. My partner. Craig, Mr and Mrs Hoffman. George and Mary.”
No, don’t go jumping to conclusions! My dad’s not clocked out! Shuffled off his mortal coil. Snuffed it. For once, Nat’s actually got protocol right. Now my dad has been promoted to staff rank, i.e. Brigadier General, he’s technically not a field officer in the marines. So, he’s ‘late’ of the Royal Marines. Not dead. And that ‘my partner’ bit. Suitably ambiguous. People can read into it what they will. Maybe just Nat’s business partner. Or maybe more. The fact I’ve just reached out and am holding Nat’s hand might be a bit of a clue to all but the densest.
“Gentlemen, so pleased you could accept our invitation tonight,” said Mr Hoffman. “May I introduce you to Mary, my wife.”
“So pleased to meet you, Nathan and Craig. Do give our best wishes to your father, the Governor, Nathan. George speaks so highly of him. And your father is a marine General Craig? So dashing, I’m sure. Surely, he must know the Queen.”
I smirked at Nat, let go of his hand. Reached out, took Mary Hoffman’s hand, gently raised and kissed it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”
Nat’s glaring at me, but trying hard not laugh.
“Why, so charming, George, don’t you think? And they say young people these days have no manners.”
A red uniformed Cunard steward appeared out of nowhere bearing a silver tray of champagne flutes, offered them to me and Nat.
“May we have blueberry juice?”
The steward smiled. Nodded, offered the tray to the planets circling Mr and Mrs Hoffman, then retreated. He’ll be back in a minute or so with a couple of glasses of blueberry juice.
Nat approves.
