"So," said Alan Fielding to his nephew. "How are you liking it so far?"

"It's great," Harry Hoffman replied, putting down a newspaper and getting up from his seat in the small tea room. "I'm getting on great with the others. Even the Captain seems to like me."

Fielding gestured for him to sit again then took the other seat beside him. "He judges people on how well they do their job," he said. "Not on how well they get on with each other, but you're right. He says he's very impressed with you so far."

"That's good to know," said the young man uncertainly. He sounded as if he expected the comment to be followed up by some kind of criticism.

"Everyone knows what happened on the Glory wasn't your fault," Fielding assured him. "The Captain was drunk. Everyone knows he's got a drinking problem. He needed to blame someone for the accident and you were the one in the Control Room with him. If someone else had been there, he'd have gotten the blame. The Captain told me even the Company knows the truth, but it's a lot easier to sack a junior rating than a Captain."

"They still wouldn't have given me a job on another ship if you hadn't fought for me," said his nephew. "I'm very grateful."

"I promised your dad I'd look after you," said Fielding, giving his nephew a fond pat on the arm. "And I will. So long as you don't screw up royally, you've got a job here. You'll be able to provide for that young lady of yours, have a bunch of children together. Keep the family tradition going for another generation."

"Aren't you going to do that?" asked Hoffman. "You're going to marry one day, aren't you?"

"Having too much fun playing the field, son. But who knows? One of them might succeed in tying me down one day. Even if that happens, though, seems likely you'll be raising kids before I am. The family nautical tradition is in your hands, Harry."

"I won't let you down, Sir," said Hoffman with a broad grin.

"A promise you'll be happy to keep," said Fielding, smiling back, "and even if no children come along, trying is fun."

"It certainly is," the younger man agreed.

"Well I won't hold you up any longer. If you're late back from your ten minutes tea break because of me, I'll be the one looking for a new ship to serve on. Carry on, Sailor."

"Thank you, Sir."

Fielding nodded to him, and Hoffman left the room, heading back to his workstation in the Control Room.

☆☆☆

"Is it true you study dinosaurs," said the little boy sitting beside Conrad Bellamy at the dining table. He looked to be about eight years old and had a cartoonish picture of a tyrannosaur on his tee-shirt.

The boy's parents smiled apologetically. "He's been obsessed with dinosaurs since he was about two," said the mother, a piece of chicken speared on the end of her fork.

"Weren't we all," the father agreed.  His name was Abraham Dillinger the Third. Conrad and his wife had shared a glance when he told them that, but had said nothing. "Show me a kid who's not obsessed with dinosaurs and... Well, you won't find one."

"Me too," Conrad agreed. "As I got older, though, I found that I was much more interested in the Permian." He turned to talk to the boy, whose name was Eric. "That was before the age of the dinosaurs," he told him. "There were a few small dinosaurs around back then, but they didn't really come into their own until the Triassic, the age that followed it. The Permian had some fascinating creatures in it, though. The gorgonopsians, for example. They could reach eleven feet long and weighed over six hundred pounds."

The boy was losing interest though, and Agnes, Conrad's wife, reached over to pat the back of her husband's hand. "They just don't have the same attraction for a young boy," she said to the parents, who smiled with embarrassment. "How can they compare with a brachiosaurus or a tyrannosaurus rex?"

"Well, they should," said Conrad, a little put out. "The permian was when the reptiles took over from the amphibians and really colonised the land for the first time. The first mammal-like reptiles lived back then. Our ancestors. And dimetrodon. You know about dimetrodon, Eric?"

"That was a dinosaur," said the boy, perking up a little.

"Actually it wasn't," said Conrad, though. "It was a synapsid. You see, when reptiles evolved from amphibians, they split into two major groups. The synapsids, which include dimetrodon, went on to become mammals, while the other group, the sauropsids, went on to become dinosaurs and birds." The boy nodded, but Conrad could see him starting to glaze over again.

"I'm sorry," said the father, looking embarrassed. He ran a hand through his flat-topped hair, which made him look as if he'd been in the army. Maybe he had, Conrad thought. He certainly had the muscular, athletic build of an army man.

"Don't be," he said with an understanding smile. "It's only natural. When he's bigger he'll probably lose all interest in dinosaurs and become an architect or something."

"We can only hope," said the mother. She'd given her name, but Conrad had forgotten it and was too embarrassed to ask. She gave a horrified start when she realised what she'd said. "Oh! I'm sorry..."

"It's okay," said Conrad patiently. He was beginning to feel as if he'd fallen into a time loop in which he'd be apologising for having a boring career for all eternity. "The fact is, he'll never be rich if he chooses a career in science. It's sad and wrong, but that's the world we live in, I'm afraid."

From further along the table came a great bellow of laughter, making both the Bellamys and the Dillingers look in that direction. "The Heartbreaker," said Agnes with a smile. "Looks like he's doing his best to live up to his name."

Conrad nodded. Nigel 'Heartbreaker' Hammond, the world class golfer, was one of the celebrities they had with them on the cruise. They hadn't recognised him at first without the bright red polo shirt that was his trademark look on the golf course. In the grey dinner suit he was currently wearing, he might have been any shorter-than-average middle aged man, but the laugh was unmistakable.

He was trying to impress a much taller red-headed woman sitting across the table from him, and if his reputation was to be believed, he was destined to find some success, at least until he grew bored with her and started flirting with someone else. She must have known his reputation, but she was laughing and smiling, clearly flirting back at him. Probably just trying to get some jewellery out of him before his interest drifted, Conrad thought. Maybe he'll give her a pearl necklace. He chastised himself for the uncharitable thought.

He realised that Abraham's wife was saying something to them, and snapped his attention back to the conversation. "If I may ask," she was saying, looking back and forth between Conrad and Agnes, "If it's such a poor paying career, how are you able to afford such an expensive cruise?"

"We've just retired from our teaching jobs at the University of Birmingham," said Agnes, taking her husband's hand again and giving it another squeeze. "We've got a little money put away. We thought we'd treat ourselves to a bit of posh living before we settled down to a life of gardening and daytime TV."

"Good for you," said Abraham with an emphatic nod. "Can't stay cooped up in a classroom all your life. Sophie and me go on a long holiday every year. A cruise, a safari. Something like that. We went to Africa last year. Namibia. You ever been there?"

Conrad and Agnes shook their heads. Eric piled food onto his fork and shovelled it into his mouth.

"Philip shot a lion," said the mother proudly.

Abraham sat up straight in his chair, looking proud. He looked as if he was expecting to be praised for his hunting prowess.

"How brave of you," said Conrad, though. He looked back down at his plate and sawed at a piece of meat.

"They're bred to be hunted by tourists," said the mother, suddenly defensive. "Tourist money helps pay to preserve the park.

"You could have just made a donation," said Agnes, also looking down at her plate.

"In some African tribes, it's a rite of manhood to go out and kill a lion single handed," said Abraham, looking at Conrad as if he was looking down the sights of a rifle.

"I believe they used a spear," the paleontologist replied. "You say you shot it. Back in the days of the wild west, guns were called equalisers. Even the smallest child could kill a hardened gunslinger if he had a gun in his hand. And the child didn't even need a busload of armed bodyguards to make sure nothing went wrong."

"Lions are no longer endangered," said Abraham, turning red with anger. People at other tables were turning to look at them, sensing that something had happened to poison the peaceful, friendly atmosphere.

"People shoot deer, pheasants," Abraham continued. "You Brits hunt foxes on horseback, so don't get all morally superior with me."

"Fox hunting is banned in the UK," said Conrad around a mouthful of beef. He no longer cared about offending him. "We decided it was a barbaric practice that had no place in a civilised country."

"Well I guess we're just barbaric colonials, then."

"I would never say such a thing."

An awkward silence fell in which the two couples tried to ignore each other as they ate their food. A moment later a stand-up comedian danced onto the stage and began telling jokes.

☆☆☆

"The prick!" swore Abraham Dillinger the Third as he and his wife swept furiously along the corridor away from the Mermaid's Feast restaurant. Eric, his son, had run off ahead and was studying a deck map of the ship, mounted on the wall.

"The self righteous, judgemental, toffee nosed prick!" Abraham added. "If we hadn't been in a public restaurant I'd have busted his face open."

"They were British," said Doris, whose face could have soured milk with a single glance. "They can't help but be judgemental. They think they're so much better than everyone else. More civilised."

"They'd all be speaking German if we hadn't saved their asses in two world wars." Abraham lowered his voice as they passed an elderly couple going in the other direction, but his face was still red with anger. "They forget that. We shed our blood on the beaches of Normandy for them, and that's the respect they give us. This is the last time we ever sail on a British ship."

"It's a big ship," said his wife. "And we've only got a few days until we get to Rio. Chances are we won't see them again." She turned to call back to their son, whom they'd just passed. "Come on, Eric." The boy left the deck plan and ran past them along the corridor.

"They should hope not. I don't know how I managed to sit through the rest of that meal. If I see them on deck, though, they're going overboard, and I don't care who's there to see me do it."

They passed through a set of doors and emerged onto the Promenade of deck seven. The salt smell of the sea washed over them, and the hot sun warmed their hands and faces. "Forget about them now," said Doris. "Let's just enjoy the rest of the cruise. Where shall we go next?"

"A couple of hours in the gym might sort me out," said Abraham, turning right and heading towards the prow of the ship. "I'll pound a punching bag and pretend it's that prick's face." Beside him, some of the people sitting in chairs and recliners looked up at him as he passed.

"So soon after eating?" asked his wife.

"If I don't let off steam soon, I'm going to explode. God, but I'd like to have had that prick as one of my trainees in Fort Jackson. I'd have made his life hell."

"Remember your heart, dear. "Remember why you retired. Eric, don't go too far. Stay where we can see you." The boy reluctantly came back to join his parents.

Abraham nodded and took a bottle of pills from an inside pocket. He swallowed one, and tucked the bottle away again. Gradually the angry red of his face faded.

"Better?" asked Doris.

Abraham nodded. "You're right," he said. "I'm not going to let that prick spoil what's left of our vacation. We paid too much for it."

As they walked, they passed people going in the opposite direction, heading for the doors back inside, and as they approached the front of the ship, they saw why. There was a large, dark cloud sitting on the horizon ahead of them, flickering with lightning. The ship appeared to be heading straight for it. A couple of the ship's officers were on the forward sun deck, leaning on the polished, wooden railing. They were looking at the storm with concerned frowns on their faces. One of them, the Captain, was holding a phone in his hand. "What does the weather radar say?" he asked.

"It shows nothing," Abraham heard the phone say as he drew near. "Nothing but clear skies as far as it can see."

"There's a bloody great thundercloud right in front of us," the Captain said. "Big, black and angry. It's not showing up on the radar?"

"Not a thing, Sir. How far ahead is it?"

"Close. Probably no chance of avoiding it now. On the plus side, it looks small. We should be through it quite fast."

"Steady as she goes, then, Sir?"

"Yes. Maintain course and speed. I'll be down to check in in a moment."

"Everything all right, Captain?" asked Abraham.

The Captain turned, noticing him for the first time. "Yes, everything's fine," he said. "Just a little bad weather ahead. Might be best to go inside for a while."

"How can that not show up on a weather radar?"

The Captain turned to look at the other officer, a younger man with a moustache, but he just looked baffled. "Beats me," he said. "A glitch in the system, probably. I'll get the maintenance men to take a look at it."

"ls it my imagination," said Doris, staring at the cloud, "or is it green?"

"The light plays funny tricks on your eyes sometimes," said the younger officer. Doris nodded doubtfully.

"Bloody nuisance," said the Captain. "It would have been easy to avoid it if we'd seen it earlier. Still, it looks small. We'll probably be through it in half an hour." As if offended at being disrespected, the storm chose that moment to light up with a massive flash of lightning, deep inside it. The crack of thunder came just a second later.

"We'd better be getting inside," said the Captain. "I don't fancy getting wet."

"As you say, Sir," the other officer replied.

The Captain nodded politely to Abraham and his family as they left, threading their way between empty chairs and sun beds. Then they entered a crew-only hatch and disappeared inside, closing it behind them.

Abraham felt the first drops of rain hitting his face as the clouds closed in around the ship. Another bolt of lightning lit the sky, closer and brighter than the first. This time, the clap of thunder was almost instantaneous.

"We going inside, dad?" asked Eric, wrapping his arms around his body, covered only by a thin tee-shirt, as the heat of the South Atlantic was replaced by a blast of cold air.

"Yes," his father replied, turning his back on the approaching storm. "Let's go."

He headed towards the deck's passenger exit, his wife and son obediently following behind.