The King's Speech - Mark Logue [66]
‘I backed into the wall, and bowed, they got opposite me, and then stopped – and I was afraid my heart was going to do the same,’ Logue recorded in his diary, in the rather breathless tone he reserved for his encounters with royal women. ‘The Queen approached me slowly – and as she put her hand out said, “I know you – you came to Sandringham. Of course, you are Logue, I am very glad to see you again.”’
Later, when he told the King how impressed he had been that his mother had recognized him, the King replied, ‘Yes she is very wonderful.’
The King and Queen were due to leave on 5 May 1939, taking the Canadian Pacific liner RMS Empress of Australia on what would be a twelve-day voyage across the north Atlantic. The afternoon before, Logue was summoned to the Palace. He gave Tommy Lascelles, who was to accompany them, advice on how to help the King get ready to broadcast. One of the important tips was that, contrary to the impression given by all the photographs of him sitting in front of the microphone, he actually preferred to stand. On this occasion (just as had been the case with the Australian trip) there was no question of Logue being included in the Royal party – nor did he want to be. ‘My wonderful patient goes on wonderfully well, and should have a marvellous time in Canada,’ he wrote to his brother-in-law Rupert. ‘Don’t think there is any need for me to go.’
Then, a few minutes later, the message came down: ‘Mr Logue wanted’, and he was shown into the King’s presence. As Logue recalled, he was too tired to stand up and go through his speeches, but he was smiling and seemed quite happy. They were working together on the text of a Quebec speech when a hidden door in the wall opened and in came the Queen, looking striking in brown, accompanied by the two princesses.
Elizabeth and Margaret begged that, as it was their last night with their parents, they should be allowed to stay up and go to the swimming pool. The Queen added her voice and, after many pleas of ‘do, Daddy it’s our last night’, the King gave in, provided they were finished by 6.30.
He then turned to Logue and said, ‘Tell them the time you dived on the shark.’ So Logue told the story of how when he was a boy of five or so living in Brighton, on the coast of South Australia, he and the other children used to jump out of bed first thing in the morning and run to the jetty, shedding their pyjamas as they went, in the race to be first into the water.
On this particular morning, the young Logue was first and he dived off the end of the little jetty with a joyous shout – into the sparkling, crystal clear water. ‘As I turned over in the air, there below me in about ten feet of water, fast asleep, was a small shark,’ he went on. ‘I couldn’t go back, and I struck the water with a frightful slap and then struck out for the landing stage, expecting every instant to lose a leg. The unfortunate shark, probably more scared than I was, I have no doubt was by this time, five miles down the Gulf.’ As Logue told the story, the princesses, their eyes open wide and their hands clasped, gazed at him enthralled.
Once the two girls had gone off to the pool, Logue shook hands with the Queen and wished her a good trip and safe return. ‘Well, I hope we don’t work too hard anyhow,’ she replied. ‘We are looking forward to coming home already.’
Alone with the King again, Logue had him go through the speeches one more time. ‘The King did them splendidly,’ he noted in his diary. ‘If he does not get too tired I am certain he will do wonderfully well. As I was going, I wished him all sorts of good luck and he thanked me and said, many thanks Logue, for all your trouble, I am very lucky to have a man who understands voices and speeches so well.’
The journey to Canada was not without its dramas: the ice field had come much further south than usual during the winter and there was thick fog, and the ship only narrowly avoided an iceberg. As someone on board pointed out to the unfortunate captain, it had been near