The room was bucketing about. His first thought was Earthquake! Then the noise came again as the two cans from last night’s supper rattled across the floor, and he remembered he was on Quern. She was rocking wildly. He ran out on deck and saw a big oil tanker belting eastward, trailing the ridged wake that was tossing them about. Sally came out too, still almost asleep, staggering and bumping into things. She blinked at the tanker and put her thumb in her mouth. It was just after eight, supposing he’d set the clock right the night before. He started the engine and went to look for some breakfast. Supper out of cans can be fine, but not breakfast. They ate ham and spaghetti. They saw a few more ships on the way over, and about midmorning the first of the big jets whined above them. Sally put her thumb in her mouth again and said nothing. Geoffrey realized that the previous afternoon they hadn’t seen a single proper ship or airplane in all their twenty-mile circle of visibility. It was about four, and raining, when they chugged up the listless waters of Morlaix estuary and made fast to the quay, with a cupful of petrol left in the tank.
