The Day They Found

Life On The Big Pond

The Golden Rivet

One of a series, by BILL DAME

Mechanics send their apprentices to the tool shed for left handed screwdrivers, aircraft maintenance men send their ap prentices for buckets of prop-wash and at sea we barnacle encrusted oldsters send our newcomers down into the bilges to see the golden rivet. But do we pull this on the passengers?

Only in emergencies!

Children love our big trans pacific ship. There’s a playroom and special programmes de signed just for them. With a stewardess supervisor to keep them out of the way of their elders, there’s usually no problem.

But every once in a while the little darlings tire of their minor status and in devious ways be come the exasperation of every one connected with keeping them entertained or busy. When this happens, no one can predict what the outcome will be.

Some time ago we had around 24 fidgety angels aged from five to 10, and after two weeks at sea they were tired of the play room, the cartoon movies, the swimming pool and the deck picnics. One day, almost as if answering a secret signal known only to them, they spread out over the ship in small groups and defied any authority to corral them again.

'Why don't you ...?'

Five of them appeared in the Gift Shop at the very busiest hour, 11 o’clock a.m. “How much is this? How much is that? Can I —may I look at the comics?

Don’t you like little kids, mister?”

“Sure I like little kids,” I replied. “And I think I know how you can have some fun.

Why don’t you go look for the golden rivet. You can’t miss it because it’s big and gold. It’s the very first rivet put into the ship.”

“Gee! Where do we look, mister?” Five little eager, freckled faces were suddenly interested in a common goal.

“It’s somewhere on the ship; you’ll have to find it. And I’ll give a chocolate bar to the first one who does. Now skedaddle!”

They practically stumbled over

each other to get out and dis appeared running down the passageway. And I continued busi ness with the adults in relative peace.

We closed at 11.30 and had lunch, after which I snuggled into my pillow for a brief siesta. In a few minutes I was half awakened by the telephone and sleepily answered. As I listened I awoke completely and a feeling of imminent disaster swept over me. I weakly said, “I’ll be there right away.”

On my way to the Purser’s Counter a few minutes later, six small-fry ran past me, each clutching a white sheet of paper.

At the same time I heard excited little voices drifting down the staircase from the deck above, followed by the sounds of run ning feet. At the Purser’s Counter I was greeted with an angry stare from the rapidly-typing duty purser. I waited and watched as he ripped his original and five copies from the machine and handed each of the anxiously wait ing six kiddies one of the papers.

“There’s your passes, now go find your golden rivet!” He smiled at them through clenched teeth as they scampered away in different directions.

When they were gone he turned to me, glared and hissed. “You’ve really started something, Buster!

They all converged on me at 11 o’clock asking where’s the golden rivet you told them about. I had to get rid of them someway, so I typed out one pass for the lot of them and sent them on their way. BUT . . ,! They cornered the captain as he left the dining room and complained that they each wanted a pass and he’s on their side!

“Do you know what I’ve been

doing for the past half-hour? Do you? I’ve been typing passes to see the golden rivet, and it doesn’t even exist! And what will their parents do? They’ll complain, that’s what. And you know what that means, so why don’t you start packing now!”

He turned away brusquely. 1 re turned to my room expecting a summons to the Bridge and a stern lecture.

For three days, groups of in t e n t children searched the passenger areas of the ship thoroughly. They looked behind doors, behind drapes and in closets. It was an exciting search and their spirit was contagious.

Word of their quest gradually reached the adults, who par ticipated by giving clues or sug gestions. It’s back aft. It’s up forward. It’s in the theatre. Maybe it’s been painted. There were as many directions as there were directors.

Found!

On the fourth day, a triumphant six-year-old lad, followed by about 10 of his generation, came breathlessly into the shop with a glistening gold rivet in his hand.

“I found it in a power flot. . .

I mean a flower pot! Upstairs near where the drummer sits. Can I . . . may I have my candy?”

I looked at the rivet and tried not to betray my astonishment as I handed the winner his prize and watched the little gang leave to divide and consume.

The poker-faced Chief Steward appeared from nowhere and dead panned, “I think I deserve a prize, too. I saw it first.” I handed him a chocolate.

A high ranking engineer leaned across the counter and asked out of the corner of his mouth. “How much is it worth to you not to have any more golden rivets found?” He opened a small box and I saw at least a dozen more golden rivets. There was gold paint on his fingers.

“Help yourself to a chocolate, BUDDY!” I said sternly, reach ing for the box.

He kept it. “These were ordered by the entertainment staff for future emergencies,” he replied, winking.

The pass-typing purser didn’t speak to me for a long time.