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  Alex and Debbie had undertaken a token amount of unpacking and had then readied themselves for dinner. And, as it was now 7.30 in the evening, it was time to confirm whether they had readied themselves sufficiently – by dressing themselves in fleeces, insulated jackets and hats. Because this first meal of their voyage was to be taken not in the elegant but cosy lower-deck restaurant, but in the ship’s exposed outside restaurant at its stern. There they would join all those other passengers who had decided that a view of the dramatic scenery to either side of the Beagle Channel was well worth the exposure to a temperature only a little above freezing.

  It was, inevitably, a good decision, not least because neither Alex nor Debbie had ever before sat down to a three-course meal that would be consumed with a ship’s wake to their rear and snow-capped mountains to their left and to their right. With the added benefits of a calm sea and an unavoidably light evening, it proved a wonderful overture to their Antarctic adventure. Even if the company of their table companions was not universally enchanting.

  The Sea Sprite operated a seating arrangement, in both its interior restaurant and in its exterior ‘lido’ restaurant, of shared tables – accommodating four, six or eight diners. This was supposedly designed to underline the intimacy of the expedition experience it offered. And it succeeded in this aim. Four years earlier, Alex and Debbie had sailed on the Sea Sprite’s virtually identical sister ship when it had made its way through the islands of Melanesia, and this ship had employed exactly the same system. One had to be careful though. As they had discovered very quickly on that expedition, an intimate relationship with every passenger – even if restricted solely to shared dining – was by no means a good idea. Certain of one’s fellow travellers could easily drain one of the will to live, on occasions even before the main course had arrived, and one therefore needed to choose carefully where one sat. This, of course, was not easy, especially at the commencement of the voyage when all of one’s dining companions would be complete unknowns and potentially very bad news. On that earlier voyage, Alex and Debbie had dealt with this hazard by carefully avoiding those of their shipmates who had already been found to be wanting, while at the same time cultivating a close relationship with a handful of the ship’s guests whose company they had found stimulating and rewarding. By then arranging to eat with this select group virtually every day, and especially in the evening, ‘good meals’ were maximised and ‘poor meals’ successfully minimised.

  When Alex and Debbie stepped onto the lido deck for their first on-board dinner, they had not forgotten this earlier experience, and fully expected that they would have to embark on a similar strategy – of identifying those whom they wished to avoid, those whom they wished to embrace, and, of course, quite a few more who would fall somewhere between these two extremes. In that it barely recognised how others would evaluate them, this was undoubtedly an arrogant sort of strategy. But it was a strategy that had worked before, and there was no reason to suspect that it wouldn’t work again. Indeed, after ten minutes at the table they had chosen, Alex had confirmed his belief in this strategy and he could see that Debbie had as well. Here, seated around them, were four fellow adventurers who were to be avoided and two who deserved to be… ensnared.

  The four to be avoided comprised a couple from Dartmouth who had pleasure-sailed all their long lives and who had clearly lost both their curiosity and their manners somewhere in the English Channel, and another couple from Dulwich who were simply more earnest than they were engaging. And neither couple could discuss much more than themselves, their offspring, and then more of themselves. Anything remotely interesting was, for them, of no interest at all, and they were really hard work. The two other diners, Derek and Elaine, were, by contrast, near perfect. They were engaging, stimulating, interested as well as interesting, and they didn’t even mention whether they were parents.

  Derek was about the same age as Alex, but in appearance terms a complete contrast. Where Alex was tall and slim with a narrow tax inspector’s face, Derek was quite short with a barrel chest, and his face was the face of a satisfied libertine, worn and lined but with the unmistakable glow of someone with no regrets. His wife, Elaine, was similarly short but she had the same trim body as Debbie, and a face that was made to smile and one that could never look entirely serious. Maybe it reflected her relationship with her husband, or the impact of some of his past disreputable behaviour. But however they looked, they proved themselves to be ideal table companions and, in Derek’s case, the sort of ideal table companion who would not win many plaudits from the world’s liberal-minded elite.

  It became clear very early on that Derek regarded being forthright (with the emphasis on ‘right’) as being rather more important than being circumspect or restrained. This was confirmed when, later on in the evening, the table conversation had landed on the topic of the less-than-laudable behaviour of neighbouring countries, probably because on one side of the channel through which the Sea Sprite was travelling was Argentina and on the other was Chile. And Argentina and Chile hadn’t always seen eye to eye, particularly regarding the ownership of some of the islands near the Beagle Channel. Like most other countries on Earth, they had found very little problem in identifying something about which they disagreed, and they had nearly resorted to war to settle – or sustain – their disagreement. Neighbouring countries that actually love their neighbours, it was decided at the table, are by no means the norm, and the more normal relationship lies somewhere between resentful tolerance and out-and-out hostility, with a simmering sense of superiority on either side to ensure that genuine rapprochement and mutual respect never really take hold. Derek did not argue with this conclusion, but he did have something to add.

  ‘May I just suggest,’ he started, ‘that whilst I agree wholeheartedly with what has been said about the behaviour of neighbouring states, there is some merit in considering how their behaviour is a product of their functionality. And what I’d like to propose is that the more dysfunctional the state, the more likely it is to act aggressively towards its neighbours. Switzerland, for example, is, in my opinion, very unlikely to pick a fight with any of its neighbours. Primarily because it clearly doesn’t need such a fight. Its economy and its culture are both ticking over very nicely, thank you very much, and its neighbours can be left to live in peace.

  ‘But then you look at a car crash of a place like Russia, and it’s a different matter altogether. Not content with annexing part of Georgia, it’s now annexed part of Ukraine, and as far as I know, it’s been messing with places like Estonia for years, and will no doubt continue to do so. And, of course, on top of all that, it isn’t satisfied with screwing up just its immediate neighbours, but it’s quite happy to reach out and bugger up places like Syria as well.

  ‘And why? Well, because it’s a rotten-to-the-core nation that needs to distract its peasants from its rotten nature. And to convince them that they have some sort of standing in the world, when they clearly haven’t. When all they can offer the world are various forms of malicious behaviour, quite often involving the use of rockets, artillery, malware, or sometimes even radioactive poisons. Hell, being effing malevolent and spiteful is now what defines Russia. And incidentally, that’s why it’s not just its immediate neighbours who should be concerned, but the whole bloody world.’

  One of the sailing pair tried to interrupt at this point, but Derek carried on.

  ‘There are, of course, lots of other examples of how dysfunctional nations make bad neighbours, and whilst it’s not quite in the same league as Russia, there’s one over there…’

  Here, he was pointing to the Argentinian side of the channel, and he continued his commentary as soon as he had lubricated his throat with another slug of wine.

  ‘You know, at the start of the twentieth century, Argentina was the sixth richest country in the world. All that meat and all the other resources it had. And then one day it decided to embark on a journey to become one of
the most economically dysfunctional countries in the world. And it succeeded. It has now had to deal with more financial crashes than its homemade Pope has had to deal with paedophile priests. And you know, it’s been able to do this without its people stringing up its leaders by its deciding to pick on one of its neighbours. Not Chile, but a rather smaller, more distant one – way off its coast – and one that it didn’t think would fight back.

  ‘Of course, it got that wrong. Or should I say it got Mrs Thatcher wrong? But, nevertheless, it still has the Falklands in its sights, and it still uses this focused aggression – in intent if not in action – to distract its hopeless citizens from their hopeless performance. And if you think I might be egging it a bit there, might I just remind you that when it attacked the Falklands it demonstrated without a shadow of doubt that it couldn’t organise even a piss-up, let alone a successful invasion. Because, like most others that pick a fight with their neighbours, Argentina is a country that is highly flawed and intrinsically inept. In other words, dysfunctional.’

  Alex nodded in agreement, but then immediately made an observation.

  ‘Some dysfunctional countries focus on their citizens rather than on their neighbours,’ he suggested. ‘Just think of Venezuela, for example. Sometimes it’s easier to attack your own people than somebody else’s.’

  This observation had the desired effect. It sparked a two-way discussion between Derek and Alex on the various behaviours of dysfunctional states, and this ultimately drew in Debbie and Elaine. But not the other four diners at the table. (They seemed far more interested in their food.) Of course, this was exactly what Alex had wanted: the beginning of Derek and Elaine’s ensnarement. And this was pretty well complete by the end of the meal. It was even them who suggested – quietly – to Alex and Debbie, that they should dine together again tomorrow. Possibly, they also suggested, with a new choice of other companions.

  It made for a great end to this first day at sea, and it filled Alex with a great sense of anticipation. What would Derek and Elaine’s views be on the age of so many of their travelling companions – and on the shape and the colour of them all?

  three

  The next morning was the start of a day ‘at sea’. The Sea Sprite would be crossing the Argentine Sea on its way to the Falklands, and the only scenery visible from the ship would be the ocean and the sky. This experience wouldn’t be a first for Alex and Debbie, as they had encountered this total absence of land for a whole day two or three times on their cruise through Melanesia. However, it was still a novel experience, and it made Alex consider what it must have been like for early maritime explorers, many of whom would often have had no idea of how many ‘at sea’ days they would have to endure, or indeed whether they would ever see land again. He could only conclude that they must have been very brave, very desperate or very stupid. Or a touch of all three. And they wouldn’t even have had the delights of a modern cruise ship to enjoy, or the promise of a series of presentations to distract them. Alex and Debbie had both. And before the first of those presentations (the mandatory one) got under way, they wanted to explore their new ship to ensure that they knew the locations of all its delights. And they did this immediately after breakfast.

  This meal had been consumed in the ship’s indoor restaurant situated at the rear of its lowest public deck, the ‘Magellan Deck’. This was a handsome room whose wood-and-brass decor echoed that of a private yacht, and indeed this same decor was to be found throughout the entire vessel. It was there in the corridor outside the restaurant that led to the doctor’s surgery and to a dozen or so passenger cabins, and it was all the way up the stairwell that took them to the deck above. This was named after another explorer and was known as the Columbus Deck. Here was the reception area of the Sea Sprite, and another corridor running towards the bow of the ship between twenty other cabins. This deck also housed the stern-situated principal lounge, the home of safety briefings, biosecurity briefings, the planned programme of presentations, and indeed any sort of ‘public’ gathering. It boasted a similar decor to that in the rest of the ship, but the presence of rather too many upright easy chairs set out in well-ordered ranks made one think that one was no longer on an elegant yacht but instead in a care home. Even its carpet and curtains looked as though they had been chosen to provide no unwanted excitement to its enfeebled patrons.

  It was all rather better on the deck above, this one named after a third explorer, in that it was known as the Marco Polo Deck. This housed twenty more cabins towards the bow, but at its stern there was a very inviting club-lounge-cum-bar that had not even a hint of care home about it. No, this had more the ambience of a country house, and this ambience was reinforced by the provision, at the back of the lounge, of a small library. This was accessed through two pairs of glass doors from the lounge and it was stocked with a healthy collection of both novels and reference books. Alex made a mental note to revisit it soon.

  However, there was a little more of the ship to check out first, and before that mandatory presentation commenced. So, he and Debbie climbed up to the next deck, which was the Erikson Deck and the deck that was home to their own (starboard) cabin. Theirs was one of eight cabins on this deck, and it was situated at the far end of the corridor that led to the bridge – and that was closed off just beyond their cabin by a door in the corridor itself. Beyond this were the chief engineer’s and the captain’s cabins, a radio room, and then the bridge. Happily, this was not an out-of-bounds area, and if the corridor door was displaying a green indicator, one was allowed to pass through it and join the crew on the bridge. Only when there was a red indicator showing – to signify that the captain and his men were engaged in something tricky, like docking the vessel or negotiating a path through icebergs – was one not allowed to observe their operations. Instead, one might then want to take oneself to the rear of this deck, and there relish the view from the ship’s outdoor lido restaurant – or alternatively one could climb to the top deck of the ship, the Explorer Deck. Here one could make one’s way to a small observation terrace above the bridge, but what one could not do was examine the ship’s ten zodiacs. These were stored in a restricted area at the rear of this deck, ready to be craned down to the sea whenever required, and they were entirely out of bounds in this situation. One would only be allowed in them when one was about to commence an excursion, and when, of course, one had been enlightened on all matters pertaining to biosecurity requirements in this part of the world. Yes, it was mandatory lesson time, and after a quick pit-stop at their cabin, Alex and Debbie made their way to the care-home lounge in readiness to receive their essential instructions.

  Jane, the cruise director, was in charge of proceedings, and she started by emphasising the need for constant vigilance; for the need to be aware that, as a visitor to these southern realms, one was a ‘real and present’ hazard; and that the fauna and flora to be found here had not evolved to withstand an onslaught by unwanted alien invaders. What this meant in practice was that one had to take particular care with whatever one was wearing, and ensure that it carried no undesirable soil, seeds or other potential threats to the legitimate plant or animal residents of the places to be visited. Alex could well understand the importance of this approach, but he was yet to become fully aware of what it would entail in practice. Especially when the Sea Sprite delivered him to South Georgia.

  Having got her basic message across, Jane then spent some time explaining that the assembled company was on its way not to a benign set of islands in the South Pacific, but to a very inhospitable part of the world with notoriously unpredictable weather. What this meant was that, on every shore visit, the passenger-carrying zodiacs would be preceded by one or two zodiacs carrying just emergency survival kit, kit that would enable the pupils in the room to survive for twenty-four hours should the weather prevent their return to the ship for this length of time. Oh, and this kit had been employed on numerous occasions in the past.

  This was
a salutary message, and Alex took it to heart. Just as he did the warning that fur seals could often be really dangerous, and that a bite from an elephant seal was to be avoided at all costs. Apparently, they don’t have just teeth in their mouths, but also a thriving colony of bacteria known to be harmful to humans. Not quite a case of rabies, Jane said, but something you’d probably not wish on your worst enemy. And, in all likelihood, the medication you’d require would mean that you couldn’t imbibe any of the ship’s all-inclusive wine. And Alex found that prospect more than a little disagreeable.

  What he also found disagreeable was the fact that included in the ‘how to behave towards wildlife’ guidance, there was now, as well as ‘Don’t get within X feet of an animal or bird’, ‘Don’t block their path’ and ‘Don’t alarm them’, a call to ‘Don’t ever feed them’. This, it appeared, had been added to the list of ‘don’ts’ ever since ships visiting this region had brought with them hordes of Chinese. Alex found this depressing but not surprising, and wondered whether the authorities had been obliged to consider extending this new exhortation to include the request ‘Don’t ever eat them’ as well. God help the wildlife here, thought Alex, if there’s a whole tidal wave of China’s terrible-tourists about to overwhelm it.

  Anyway, it was now time to conclude his exercise in offensive but justifiable racial profiling, as Jane’s lecture had been completed and it was time instead to collect one’s ship-issued boots and one’s ship-issued windbreakers. Because, although Alex and Debbie had kitted themselves out with a whole wardrobe of thermal underwear, insulated trousers, waterproof trousers, inner gloves, outer gloves, inner socks, outer socks, neck warmers, beanie hats, heavy-duty fleeces and down jackets, they still needed a windbreaker to protect them from… the wind, and some sturdy waterproof boots that would enable them to make landings in the surf and even traverse the odd shallow river. Encouragingly, for both of them, the boots and the windbreakers seemed to fit well, although Alex did wonder whether, as well as a life jacket and a dangling pair of binoculars, he could really cope with five layers of clothing on his upper body. He normally wore only one…