The Voyage of the Golden Handshake by Terry Waite

cuffs on the unfortunate Cruise Director and led him towards the van, where he pushed him inside and slammed the door.
    Returning to the crocodile once more, he challenged Radley, who explained the situation to him as best he could. The English-speaking policeman defended his actions by saying that the English were acting in a most suspicious manner and there wasto be no more of it. He concluded by saying that if they wanted their vin they had better make haste as ‘Vin Bon Marché’ closed in twenty minutes’ time. And so the crocodile resumed its journey, albeit in a different and less suspicious formation and at a much faster pace, leaving Enzo to work his own way out of trouble.
    The group of intrepid travellers arrived at ‘Vin Bon Marché’ just as the staff were preparing to leave for home. The staff were not in the best of moods, given that the majority of their fellow workers in the vicinity were on strike and able to enjoy an extra holiday. Throughout the day they had had to endure the taunts of some strikers who castigated them for not coming out in sympathy, but had they done so, ‘Vin Bon Marché’ would have sacked them all on the spot. So, they remained at their posts disgruntled and unhappy. When they observed a large group of strange-looking individuals approaching the store, they imagined that they were about to be attacked by angry strikers and so immediately closed and bolted the doors. This incensed the passengers, who pointed at their watches and made threatening gestures. One or two of the more aggressive banged on the door demanding to be let in.
    By now it was two minutes to closing time and there was no hope whatsoever of being able to buy supplies. More passengers showed their wrath by marching to the rear of the store and peering through the windows where they tried to catch the attentionof the frightened assistants. Radley did his single-handed best to try and restore order, but he met with little success. Although it was now past closing time, those inside the building were too terrified to leave, and one of the passengers looking through a window noted a Vin Bon Marché employee speaking on the telephone. As the passenger turned around, to his alarm he further noted the two police motorcyclists approaching at a rapid pace, their sirens blazing. Enzo, who had obviously been released from custody, was seen sprinting furiously back towards the safety of the ship.
    At the sight of the gendarmes the group scattered. Gone was the orderly crocodile. In fact, gone was any semblance of order. It was every passenger for himself.
    The gendarmes sounded their sirens and blew their whistles. On board, Captain Sparda, thinking he was being acknowledged by the authorities, gave three merry toots on the ship’s whistle. This further terrified the passengers, who imagined that this was the sign that the ship was about to depart and so ran even faster towards the gangplank. The old tradition of ‘women and children first’ never crossed the mind of any of the party. The elderly stumbled along; the infirm wheezed and groaned, and the minority who had reasonable health were the first to enjoy the sanctuary of the Golden Handshake. The last person to stagger up the gangway was Albert. On stepping aboard he turned around to see the quay swarming with French cops and militarytypes toting automatic weapons.
    ‘Funny country, France,’ he said to himself as he plodded to his cabin without a bottle of Brown Ale to his name. ‘Very bloomin’ funny.’
     
    Back in the safety of his cabin, Enzo reflected on the events of the afternoon. By any stretch of the imagination, it could not have been described as a success. How was he to know that there was a strike in port here? The French police had behaved dreadfully, and because of their rough tactics with the handcuffs, his wrists hurt terribly. He poured himself a very small tot of Pussers Naval Rum and rested for a few moments. Now he had to face Lifeboat Drill