We got out into the customary blanket-snap of wind off the Bay and made for a tubular aluminium gangway that led onto the vessel near the stern. It was uncomfortably open ground, and I crossed it with an eye constantly sweeping the railed and craned lines of the ship's deck and bridge tower. Nothing stirred. I squeezed my left arm lightly against my side to check the Fibregrip holster hadn't slipped down, as the cheaper varieties often did after a couple of days' wear. With the Nemex I was tolerably sure I could air out anyone shooting at us from the rail.