Our heroes were still lying there, getting their breath back (except Len, who had wisely installed himself and his melodeon in the safety of a chair, and even that kept moving about), when the air was filled with the ominous clinking of bottles sliding along the table six yards away.

"Quick lads, our beers are going over"

Just as the bottles went over the edge, the deck heaved again and the fates conspired to throw our heroes towards their beer. Earls and beer collided, the Earls emerging from the mêlée triumphantly clutching a bottle (skilful!) in each hand.

This was the cue for a break, so control was handed back to the D.J., to carry on with his disco. It was during this session that our heroes re-invaded the dance floor in search of a new tune for the N.W. Clog, and succeeded in fitting it to Elvis Presley's 'Way Down'.

Our heroes now took a much needed rest, and quenched their thirsts. They were rejoined by the friendly Yank, who said that the Captain had come down from the bridge to see what all the noise was about, and must have gone away happy because nobody had been clapped in irons or cast adrift in an open boat.

A joke swapping session began, by substituting 'Polish' for 'Irish' (it's all Polak jokes in the U.S.), the Yank and his two pals were soon in hysterics; in between he kept going into raptures over the ever changing expression on Maggie's face, and the fact that 'That bearded guy looks just like Henry VIII'.

The friendly D.J. then decided that as everyone was refusing to dance because of the moving floor, he was handing the rest of the evening over to our heroes.