The Unlucky Queen

She was meant to bring new pride to a nautical nation, to restore some measure of the glory that was Britain's when her Queens ruled the seas. Sleek and speedy, the Queen Elizabeth 2 was designed as a floating luxury hotel, modern and comfortable enough to attract free-spending American tourists for the transatlantic run in the warm seasons and Caribbean cruises in the winter. At least, that was the dream of the Cunard Steam-Ship Co. when it ordered the $71 million, 66,000-ton liner in 1964. Last week, as she limped into Southampton after her shakedown voyage to the Canary Islands, the Queen, her company and its dream were all badly shaken.

Standing in the glow of the psychedelic lights of the ship's theater, the Cunard chairman, Sir Basil Smallpeice, announced that the ship was in such sad shape that the company would refuse delivery until everything was straightened out by the builders, Glasgow's Upper Clyde Shipbuilders. With that, Cunard scrubbed two scheduled cruises this month and one in February; the cancellations cost the company at least $2,160,000. When the ship will finally be able to go into service remained uncertain.

Decent Middle Class. Like many new cars, many new ships have bugs, and it takes time to get rid of them. Ultimately, the Queen Elizabeth 2 may become one of the best liners afloat. Still, the Queen's problems seemed most unusual. First, there was technical trouble. British engineers developed steam-turbine engines 72 years ago, but the steam turbines on the Queen went awry. The casings did not allow enough room for normal heat expansion of the 10-ft. rotor blades, and the engines were thrown out of balance. As a result, speeds had to be cut from a normal 28 1/2 knots to 14 knots. Sometimes they dropped as low as one knot.

Beyond that, much of the interior was unfinished. Hallways were cluttered with unpacked cartons; in some staterooms, naked bulbs dangled from wires, handles and racks fell off in passengers' hands, and plumbing and soundproofing were erratic. Though some of the finished public rooms were beautifully furnished in suede and velvet, many rooms showed misguided efforts to cater to an unhappy estimate of American tastes. Decor ran from motel modern to floating Howard Johnson's. One Cunard official tried to explain the limp bill of fare: "What we are trying for is decent middle-class food. We are not pretending to be the equal of big, first-class London or New York restaurants." By contrast, ships of the French Line, the Italian Line and others have some of the world's finest cuisine.

Last of Her Kind. Who was to blame? Back along the Clyde, everyone accused everyone else. Trade-union officials faulted managers of Cunard and of the shipyards for disorganized work schedules, and made much of what they called a premature delivery date--although the ship is already eight months behind the original delivery schedule. The builders furloughed hundreds of workmen last November, only to rehire them in last-minute attempts to meet deadlines. Partly because workers were angered by the layoffs, there were many acts of vandalism--carpets were badly soiled and wood flooring was gouged. Hundreds of workmen were put aboard the ship for the shakedown run to put matters right, but they managed to miss few tea breaks, beer breaks or whisky breaks. Then there was the matter of pilferage. One electrician was charged with stealing a startling list of articles: 30 yards of carpeting, two chests of drawers, five curtains, 180 ft. of glass fiber, five lampshades and a toilet seat.

Last week, in a pub across from the shipyard, a worker said: "The QE 2 will be the last of her kind to be built at Upper Clyde. It's maybe just as well." It would be misleading to hold up the new Queen as a reflection of all that ails Britain's economy. But it exposed anew the casual management and slapdash workmanship that has become all too common in a nation anxious to regain the grandeur of the past.

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