CHAPTER TWELVE
At the third class bar Moody slid off his bar stool with a pint in hand. He did a half-dance, half-shuffle type movement as he weaved in between the passengers. He kept slurring random remarks which received mainly drunken smiles and pints raised to him. He then began to sing, or at least he thought that was what he was doing. It sounded more like howling.
Ohhhhhhh!
The hamsterrr won't keep me dooooowwwwn!
Noooooo he wooooon't!
Down, that iiiiisss!
He got some confused stares as passengers asked each other what a hamster was. Ignoring them, he continued to sing along the same lines over and over, getting louder each time. He continued on like this, caught up in his own world when he was brought back to drunken reality by a familiar male voice.
"Jimmy!" Pitman called over to him from his spot on the table. He waved at his colleague before giggling hysterically.
Shuffling over to him, Moody put an arm around his shoulders and continued to sing over the laughter. This time the subject matter had changed with choice curse words thrown in for good measure.
Fuuuuuck Wiiiilde!
Fuuuuck Wilde and his mummy's dressessess!
Pitman stared at Moody before laughing again, something which encouraged the younger officer to join in with the hilarity - in fact, he began waving his arms in the air to the tune he sang earlier for his hamster song. Joining in, Pitman didn't realise that his timing was off before giving up and chuckling manically. "Jimmy … I … Uh …" He trailed, clearly having smoked too many 'herbal' cigarettes as he struggled to form coherent words. He gave up and fell into another laughing fit and passed his colleague a cigarette which was immediately declined.
"What happened to 'im?" Moody slurred when he pointed at Lowe, who was snoring loudly and still sprawled across the table.
"Died …?"
"He's not dead!" He scoffed, poking the Welshman's stomach repeatedly. "Dead people don't snore!"
Pitman merely laughed as he lit up again, "Shucks …"
Moody staggered away and hollered back to him, "I'm outta here!" He continued though the crowds as before but this time he was swirling his arms above his head as he sang. His moves caught the attention of a disgruntled Lightoller which prompted him to dance provocatively at him.
"Jim!" He gasped as he ran towards him, letting out a groan as he recoiled from the junior officer's breath. "Dear God, man! How many have you had?!"
"Not enough Lightsss," He slurred in response. He face then crumpled and he swung his arms around Lightoller's neck and hugged him tightly. "Herbie says Harry's dead!"
"What?!" Lightoller shrieked, successfully pulling Moody off him. "Where is he?!" His hand was snatched and the next thing he knew, he was being pulled through the crowds to a table at the back of the hall. It wasn't Pitman and Lowe like Moody had clearly thought it was, but a young couple with their son sleeping on the table. "Uh, Jim?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and slightly scared by Moody's reaction upon the discovery of the sleeping child.
Throwing his arms into the air, he fell to his knees and wailed, "Harrrrryyyy! Not my friend, Lord! You bastard!"
"James Paul Moody!" Lightoller cried out in shock as he tried to pull him up and silence him.
Not wanting to be brought to his feet, Moody raised an angry fist in the direction of the heavens and continued with his tirade. "If you took him because … Because of that fuuuucking Poooorkyyyyyyyy! Nnnnnghyaaahhhh!"
With a grunt, the senior officer pulled him to his feet and pointed at the sleeping child. "Jim, that isn't Harry!"
"No …?"
"That's a little boy who fell asleep!"
Moody prodded the young child and cried, "He's dead!"
"Jim you twat!" Lightoller barked, dragging him away from the little boy whose concerned parents woke him up just to make sure that he wasn't dead.
Moody looked around, utterly confused. He grabbed onto Lightoller's hand again and resumed his search, ignoring the grumbling coming from his superior.
Unaware of the hysteria, Wilde was sitting on the stairs having had enough. He internally debated whether or not to give up and leave Murdoch, hoping that he will appear of his own accord at some point. Using the railing to help him up, he groaned, "Sod it, I'm going to my bed …"
"Henry! Where yo goin' man?!"
Turning around, he spotted Boxhall standing by the bar and waving over at him. Walking over against his better judgement, he muttered, "Great, he's Big J now …"
"Dis party only gettin' started dawg!"
Wilde stared incredulously as his colleague was handed a pint and scowled, "Seriously? Getting drunk will magically solve our problems and make Will appear?"
"DRINK IT DOWN ASSHOLE!" Boxhall barked as he thrust the pint at Wilde, who panicked and made quick work of the drink.
"Happy?!"
"I'm not unhappy, man," Boxhall shrugged as they walked up to the bar proper.
"Are we having a drink this time?" The barman chuckled at Wilde as he got out two glasses in anticipation.
He reluctantly nodded as the two of them sat at the bar. He eyed Fabrizio suspiciously as he shuffled away carrying a tray of pints. "That's peculiar."
"Yo! Leave him alone!"
It wasn't long before the two of them were drunk too, leaving Lightoller as the only sober officer. He was apparently still getting dragged around by Moody as the two of them arrived at the bar.
"Heeey!" Wilde hollered, wrapping an arm around Lightoller and forcing him down onto a bar stool. He turned to the barman and ordered, "Get him a drink he needs to catch up!"
He only scowled as he rose from the stool and remarked, "I need to catch a certain William Murdoch, something that all of you seem to have forgotten!"
Boxhall merely shrugged as he comforted a sobbing Moody, "Ach, what happened to ye Jimmy?"
"J-Jock! Harry's dead!" He wailed, burying his face into his colleague's shoulder.
Both Wilde and Boxhall shared shocked looks and then looked to Lightoller for confirmation. He shook his head and told them, "He'll be passed out somewhere …"
"Then drink!" Wilde urged, handing him a pint which was passed onto to Moody and gone in ten seconds.
Giving each of the men a dirty look, Lightoller pompously announced, "I'll find him myself then! And when the captain asks, I'll tell him that you were all drunk or stoned!"
"Who's stoned?!" Boxhall demanded while looking incredibly impressed.
Lightoller groaned and walked away, but not without Moody who was desperate to cling to him. "Oh for crying out loud …"
Still refusing to hide in their corner of the hall, Murdoch was doing as he pleased, regardless of who saw him. "They can catch me all they want!" He slurred, slowly removing his clothing and throwing them around extravagantly in the manner of an erotic dancer.
Tommy looked highly amused, looking around to see nearby passengers laugh and pointing at him with several woman blushing. "Heh, just as well he didn't pretend to be a first class passenger! They would have handed him back to the captain by now!"
Fabrizio didn't appreciate his friend's humour because he was looking positively scandalised. He did his best to look away as a sock flew past his ear and yelped, "Tommy! What do we do?"
"Laugh!" He answered as a fully-nude Murdoch began downing the pints that Fabrizio had brought to him earlier.
The officer pounded a fist on the table in a furious manager and growled, "Laugh at me, you bastard?!"
"Oh shite," Tommy muttered to Fabrizio. "We've angered him!"
"Run!" He insisted, tugging at Tommy's sleeve. "Run!"
The two of them made a hasty exit as Murdoch threw pint glasses at them and shouted, "Cowards! Come back here!" Watching them flee, he grabbed a pint and chuckled. Looking around as he drank, he saw Pitman still sitting on the table with Lowe slowly coming around from his alcohol-induced coma. He strode over and stood proudly before them with everything hanging out, "Miss me?!"
"Hiiiii," Pitman breathed, swaying an arm in the air before holding it steady and looking up at it. He soon dropped it, giggling like a small girl. "That feels funny!"
"What … Happened?" Lowe groaned as he slowly sat up, clutching his head. He took one look at Murdoch and frowned, "I knew you were after me."
"Yesh!" Murdoch exclaimed as he finished his pint.
"Crazy bastard! Stay away from me!" Lowe cried, sliding off the table and running into the crowd where he bumped right into Lightoller and Moody.
"See? Harry's not dead!" Lightoller announced proudly, forcing Moody to look at him.
All Lowe heard were the words 'Harry' and 'dead' which was enough for him to run up the stairs screaming, "The captain lied to me! They are after me!"
Moody's face paled as he wept onto Lightoller's shoulder, "No, he's dead! That was his ghost! Oh no, I'm going to get haunted again!"
"And it's back to the bar with you, you moron!"
By this point, Boxhall and Wilde were waltzing with each other, cutting fine shapes in front of the bar. They appeared to be oblivious as their colleagues rejoined them at the bar and also the attention they were gathering.
"I give up with you lot," Lightoller sighed as he gratefully took a pint. "You are all animals, the whole lot of you! You hate my paintings, and when I need to count on you, you all act like utter idiots!"
Moody shook his head and sobbed into his pint, "No, Harry! Noooo!"
"What happened to him?" The barman asked curiously as he wiped down some glasses.
"Too many pints. He thinks one of our men has passed away when he saw him alive just moments ago," Lightoller answered with resignation as the barman nodded and went to serve some passengers. He looked around, and noticed a familiar nude man on the stage in the centre of the room shuffling alongside a chilled-out Pitman. Grabbing the others he triumphantly announced, "I found him! I found the bastard!"
Pitman slowly twirled around Murdoch who was still shuffling away, much to the entertainment and amusement of the passengers. Every so often Murdoch would look up and flip his middle finger at random passengers to cheers and applause.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" Pitman sang, inevitably collapsing onto the stage floor in a fit of laughter.
Murdoch took it upon himself to roll on the floor alongside him and shout for more alcohol to be brought his way. However, he was stunned to find Lightoller glaring down at him after picking up Pitman from the stage. "Shite!" He yelled, realising that he'd been caught by the one officer he wanted to avoid. He clumsily got to his feet and staggered backwards into Wilde.
"Keep that fat arse away from me!" He barked, pushing him towards Moody who leapt to the ground to avoid a collision.
"What are you men waiting for?!" Lightoller shrieked as Murdoch sniggered and leapt off the stage into a crowd of women before stumbling through the passengers. "Get him!"
Pitman simply stood and watched as Lightoller chased after the naked officer, who was gaining speed at a remarkable pace. Wilde and Boxhall drunkenly attempted to follow them, bumping into the passengers repeatedly before giving up at the stairs. Moody lay on the floor and watched as Pitman sparked up again, "Can I try that Herb?"
"William McMaster Murdoch get back here!" Lightoller bellowed as he chased him through the corridors of steerage. Many of the passengers shrieked and ran out the way of them equally stunned and disgusted by their behaviour. Determined to stop him, he pulled out several paintbrushes from his pocket and launched them.
Seeing a brush fly out in front of him, Murdoch hollered, "Your paintings are shite!"
"They are fabulous!"
"SHITE!"
Lightoller paled as he realised the direction they were headed in, "Oh good Lord no!"
Sure enough, Murdoch had found his way into the smoking room where the gentlemen had been enjoying their cigars and brandy. They were even more stunned to witness a senior officer leap on and capture a nude man.
Ismay rose to his feet in a fit of fury and barked over the dumbstruck silence, "Mister Lightoller! What in God's name is going on here?!"
