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later – when you’re grown up.’
    Annabel pressed her head deeper into the pillow. ‘If I’m going to be a little Dutch girl, then I shall grow up into a Dutch woman. Shan’t I?’
    ‘Yes. I suppose you will.’
    ‘I would rather be like you.’
    ‘I shall be a Dutch woman, too.’
    ‘I don’t want you to be.’
    ‘Think of all the fun there’ll be,’ Mary said. ‘Skating along the canals in the winter – sailing on them in summer. And in the spring going out into the tulip fields. We’ll have a great time.’
    ‘Better than in Phoenix Park?’
    ‘Much better. And I shan’t be out working during the day. I’ll be with you all the time, except when you’re at school. Won’t you like that?’
    ‘Yes,’ Annabel said. ‘I’ll like that.’
    ‘Turn over now, and go to sleep. I’m just going downstairs to the place where we had supper. I’ll leave this little light on, and if you’re frightened or you want anything, you only have to press the little button beside it. Will you go to sleep now?’
    ‘Yes, Mamma.’
    Mouritzen welcomed her into the lounge, where the extension half of the dining-table had been closed up and the kitchen serving hatch had become a bar.
    ‘What will you have to drink?’ he asked her.
    ‘An orange juice, please.’
    ‘With a little gin? If you are going to Holland, you must learn to drink gin.’
    She smiled. ‘No thank you. Just orange.’
    Thorsen was behind the bar. Mouritzen called to him:
    ‘Jorgen! An orange juice and another Tuborg.’
    The lounge was roughly oval in shape, one end being lined with bench seats. The Simanyis were there, and so was the Chief Engineer, Bernard Møller. He was a raw-boned, red-haired man, generally taciturn but occasionally given to outbursts of articulation. Tonight he was sitting opposite Nadya, and expressing himself more in looks than words. Nadya, for her part, was in a withdrawn, apparently sullen mood. She paid little attention to Møller, none to Mouritzen and Mary.
    Captain Olsen came in about ten minutes later. Mr and Mrs Jones came with him; he held open the door for them to enter. The three of them sat together at one of the small tables. Jones asked:
    ‘What will you drink, Captain?’
    ‘Milk,’ said Olsen.
    ‘Milk?’
    ‘I always drink milk. Perhaps I will grow, hm?’
    Josef Simanyi called to him: ‘I do not think you have grown much since we last sailed with you, Captain.’
    Olsen shrugged. ‘Maybe I don’t want to.’ He stretched out his feet and showed that he was wearing slippers. ‘When I need shoes I go into the children’s part of the shop – good shoes and cheaper. I can get my clothes there, too. I save a lot of money since I am small.’
    Stefan Simanyi got to his feet, made some excuses and went out.
    ‘He is always sick,’ Josef said. ‘Even when all is calm, like this.’
    ‘Then he should travel by aeroplane,’ said Olsen.
    ‘Too expensive. And what of the bear?’
    ‘He could go by himself.’
    ‘No,’ Josef said. ‘We go together. We always go together. He would be more unhappy by himself than with being sick.’
    Jones said: ‘You’re very generous, Captain – recommending a rival form of transport.’
    ‘Eight passengers or none,’ Olsen said, ‘my pay is the same. I would travel by aeroplane myself, you know, if I were to travel. It is quicker, more efficient.’
    ‘Mr Jones, Mrs Jones,’ Josef said, ‘did you see the bear at her walks this morning?’
    Sheila said: ‘No. We missed it. We were sorry we did. We would have liked to take some photographs.’
    Josef nodded, smiling. ‘There is tomorrow morning.’
    ‘No,’ Olsen said. ‘Not tomorrow morning.’
    ‘Why not? Katerina must have air.’
    ‘She can wait till we berth in Dieppe. Not a stroke of work was done on the ship while she was out this morning. Tomorrow she stays in, till we dock.’
    ‘You are cruel, Captain,’ Nadya said. She seemed to wake suddenly out of her apathy. She laughed, showing her