5,387 soldiers, under Lord Mountcashel.

"5,387 soldiers, under Lord Mountcashel, went to France as part of the Wild Geese and later formed the nucleus of the Irish brigade."

The gathered crowd stood and applauded. The swaying of the seas underneath made it difficult for the few hundred in attendance, to stand and clap.

Percy Griffiths was the toast of the ship tonight.

The chief historian of the Irish Battlement Society, nodded in recognition with the rooms' eyes on him. Sitting proudly with chest puffed out, he pulled a comb from the inside pocket of his blue blazer. 

The gold buttons on his jacket reflected brightly off the crystal chandelier hanging overhead. Live piano music played from the foyer beneath.

Percy sleeked his salt and pepper hair back under his pink shirt collar and adjusted his cravat. A final brush of his neatly trimmed moustache reassured him. He was starving after delivering his impassioned speech.

The inviting smells of rosemary and cooked meats wafted from the kitchen. As his reward to himself for addressing the Historical Societies, he wanted to order off the set menu. He had asked at reception for steak this morning - they didn't say no.

Percy fancied a peppered Angus steak, cooked rare. His mouth salivated with anticipation.

Their top table was served first. A plate of chicken and potatoes in a bacon and cream sauce was placed in front of Percy.

"What the hell is this? I wanted a steak!" shouted Percy at the waitress.

"My apologies sir! Did you ask for something different off the set menu?"

"I certainly did. Angus steak, cooked rare. Get with it quickly girl!"

"I'll check with the chef sir."

The waitress scurried back to the kitchen and delivered Percy's request. She came back with her head down, informing Percy that he would have to eat the chicken dish.

"Get me the chef!" ordered Percy of the waitress.

A petite woman in pristine whites, came storming out of the kitchen's double doors. She made a beeline for the Percy's table.

"I am the Head Chef Caroline. Are you the gentleman who wants to order off the set menu tonight?"

"I was told I could order what I wanted, when I wanted. I'm on a cruise ship and I'm sitting at the top table tonight. I'm with IBS."

"I understand that you can order what you want sir, but tonight we are serving over one thousand people in two sittings, in five hours. We have to stick to our set menu tonight as we can't cater to each individual's personal requirements. No matter who you're with or whatever medical condition you suffer from."

"I am ordering the steak. I am Percy Griffiths, head of IBS. I don't suffer from IBS you idiot! I can order what I want when I want!"

"Well I'm sorry for the misunderstanding about your acronym sir, but we can't accommodate you tonight - and I have final say on the matter."

"How much will it take little girl? Here's one hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred - there's five hundred! Will that be enough for me to get what I want?" Percy peeled off several green bills from his pocket.

Caroline picked up the money and placed it in an empty glass in the centre of the table.

"I'm going to take your money sir. Do you want to know why?"

"To subsidise your paltry wages onboard?" sniggered Percy.

"I'm donating it to the first charity when we get to the next port. I'm taking the money as payment, not for the steak, which I'll happily cook for you - but for all the birthday presents you never bought me as a child. You were always too busy to even visit me or even send a card, Godfather."

"Your name is Caroline? As in daughter of Maureen and Michael?"

"Yes Uncle. It's me, your niece, Caroline. You're eating the chicken. And you're still an arrogant ass."

Within seconds, Percy was hyperventilating with embarrassment.

The waitress who bore the brunt of his acid tongue, passed Percy a brown paper bag and advised him to breathe slowly.