Sitting on a mostly empty Deck 7, next to stacks of inventory that’s being moved or counted. Mostly “Emergency Rations” and “Emergency Water.” An old guy, a passenger, shuffles by, and chuckles at the boxes. I’m the only one around so he says to me, “Good old ‘At Sea Rations.’ God they tasted awful.”

Then he walks off, passing another stack of rations, patting it with his knuckles as goes, staring out at the ocean.