Author: Rebecca Klassen

I sway with the patch of lettuce I’m tending on the top deck. They’re free to grow without hungry bunnies, and we’ve got nets for catching the gulls, delicious when grilled. Felix is tending the potatoes when The Captain’s voice rings out, announcing that the votes are in. We all stand and look out at the endless sea, as does everyone else aboard because it’s always too awkward to look at one another during the announcement. Afterall, everyone wrote a name and handed it in.
Felix’s sister Marta has whispered to us for months that it’s barbaric, cruel, wasteful, and that we must all write our own name down, that The Captain can’t throw us all overboard. Each night I’ve heard the boards creak as she’s canvassed, tiptoed the dark and rocking passageways, advertised uprising, receiving sleepy nods. It’s a shame she can’t see why The Captain does it though, why it actually works. I suspect she was sleeping with Crispin who went last year. She’s always been attracted to drama and bad boys.
Before the result, The Captain tells us a joke, as is customary.
‘Why don’t skeletons go deep-sea diving?’ He pauses, the boat lurches, and I keep my eyes on the horizon. ‘They don’t have the guts,’ he bellows.
Felix snorts through his nose, and my shoulders shake. Then we flash a look at each other that makes us stop, unable to join in with the others. The Captain’s laughter eventually dies down.
‘Well, Marta, your time with us is up.’
We hear her screaming below, heels pounding the boards, cussing. The Captain reiterates that a ship lighter in spirit travels more easily. Felix wipes his face as we hear Marta hit the waves and her calls for him stop. We don’t know what they get weighed down with: we’ve never looked.
Everyone resumes their work except Felix, who I can see is about to lose it, gasping for air. I go over to him, put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Hey, mate, I’ve got a joke for you.’