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Six has been on this ship for some time now. Six is not his name, but it is what the ship crew calls him. He did not belong to this ship.
A few days ago at night, he was in a pub in Southampton, drinking with those American college kids he just met, boasting about his trip around the world, and showing off his ticket to get on the cruise ship going to New York the next day. He heard the cruise probably would be one of the most significant and luxurious industrial creations of the 20th century, and it would be a perfect finale of his trip around the world, along with his friend, Harry.
When they were drunk, singing, and blocking the street, one of the new guys he just met started an argument with a passing sailor. More sailors came then, and it turned into a road fight. He got hit in the head. Before he went into a coma, the last thought he had was that Harry would say ‘I told you so’. Harry suggested to him that night that he should go to bed early for the next day’s trip, but he insisted on a walk because his mind was troubled with thoughts.
When he woke up by the mild slapping on his face, his head hurt. I’m on a ship now. But which one? He looked around, and believed he’s not on the one he was supposed to be on. The one who woke him up is a rough man: the hands he slapped him to wake are coarse; his face red with all the workings under the sun, and it had made him look older than his real age; strong build, maybe as tall as himself is, six feet possibly? It is the guy who slept in the upper bed of his.
“The noon call has been made, you should get up. Are you alright? Head still hurt?” He looked worried.
“I will get used to it. Who are you?” He had it worse in the past.
“I’m Five. And you will be Six. They call people by the bed they assigned to them. Yours is Six.” The cabin looks full, with every bed a person. Some like him, also waking up with a head bump.
“Everyone! On board! Now!” The roar came from above, on the deck.
“That’s our call,” Five said, “we should get up as soon as possible. You are new, they are going to ‘teach’ you the rules on the ship today.”
Everyone in the cabin rushed to the deck, with a few people, including Six, who looked bewildered and worried about their unknowing fate. The captain claimed them to be the crew of the ship now, and showed them the ship’s article with their forged signatures and fingerprints made during unconsciousness.
“We are going to the Orient. You may try to escape the ship when we reach the land. But then, we will report it to the law enforcers, and with this signature on here, it will be imprisonment waiting for you upon capture. It is better to stay on board and be a ‘free man’ right?” So I have been Shanghaied. I heard those British ships do so, never imagined to be on one. It felt kind of funny in some parts of Six heart. I didn’t want to go home with Harry anyway.
The captain called out the newcomers, giving them number names, and ordered them to clean the deck that day under the early summer sun of the English Channel, and soon the Celtic Sea. Their used names don’t matter, the captain said, they will be replaced easily as boarding masters are capable of bringing new crews all the time, and the jobs will always be assigned by numbers anyway, except for the first day newcomers. There should be some other people sleeping on bed Six too. What happened to him?
Six started to clean the deck with the few other new ship crew, all on their own. It was not a hard job, believed by Six before he remembered the noon sun on a ship with no shelters allowed. The sun stared at them then, he could feel the skin torching, and sweat dripping on the board he just cleaned, making his past 15 minutes work useless. Is this actually happening? I’m supposed to be on the cruise now, on my way back to New York, leaving all the unfinished business behind, no thanks to Harry. Maybe this is just a bad dream. I had this dream only because I just heard someone chatting about the recent shanghaiing events in the pub. Wake up now!
He closed his eyes hard, assuming when he opens up he will be in the little bedroom shared with Harry last night. The latter probably would be woken up by his moaning during the nightmare.
“Keep moving! No work, no food!” The ship mate shouted at him, and he came back: he is still on the sun blessing deck of this steamer boat, nothing changed, only now the ship mate’s angry face was staring at him. He didn’t want to have an empty stomach after last night’s hangover and the past few hours of work, especially because he's thirsty now with all the sweating. He hadn’t had any water since last night. Hope he doesn’t get dehydrated.
He got back to the cleaning again. It has passed noon, the cruise must have set sail, and Harry must be on it now. Hope he brought my luggage with him, I will thank him for that. There are many postcards and souvenirs collected, photos taken, and interview records written during his trip last two years. All valuable memories. Would be a huge loss if they are left behind. But it was Harry, he expected so much for me to come. He definitely would bring my stuff with him if I didn’t go back to the site, and was waiting for me to come aboard with him. And even if I don’t show up, he would help to bring my stuff on board, thinking maybe that I was already on the ship.
His hand on wiping slowed again, but he remembered to keep moving this time. He was thinking about his friend.
Yes, Harry, such a nice guy, the opposite of me. Quiet, honest, unassuming, and upright. So popular wherever he goes, so popular among the girls. They would tease him and he would blush. He doesn’t drink, smoke, swear or cast an evil eye upon the beautiful young ladies that crossed his path. Isn’t he a saint? Like it wasn’t his fault I was in that pub last night! I befriended him in that trimmers’ place because he looked clumsy and seemed to be a bullying target for those supervisors. But he’s smart and learns fast, and soon he’s using all the tricks I taught him to gain popularity among the folks, and the girls, forgetting what and why I taught him those. He laughed at me when I said that trimmers like us should unionize as well! Everyday that puppy face when looking at me shines with the pleasantries satisfied by the current situation grows more hateful. So I said ‘I will go on a trip tomorrow, giving myself a vacation, don’t know when I will come back. Take care of yourself’, hoping this will leave him behind, and start a new life. And the next day, he shows up at my door, well-packed, saying that he’s going too. ‘You helped me with all the people problems. I will not know how to react if you’re not around anymore, so I’m coming with you.’ Such a pain in the ass I cannot shake off. Then we went to California. People would always pick him first for work when he used his puppy eyes. They call him the ‘Lucky Harry’. I ought to find another job to work on, which probably will not be trimmerring but some jobs that pay less. And then Harry would tell his new employer that he may need a helping hand even though he doesn’t, and we could make a bundle sale. He accepts reduced payment, as long as we are hired together and paid the same amount. He offers me jobs now, and he thinks he’s doing me good!
And then, it was Australia. It was I that, when Harry the always more caring and cautious said ‘we should see if the lady was okay, and leave the robber to the police’, chased the robber down the street and got her purse back! And when I get back, what do I see? Two people loving at first sight! They hitted off right then, dating everyday. And they got engaged without surprise. Harry yapped about his engagement every now and then. That was the end of my endurance for him. So I said ‘I will continue on my trip to other continents. You now stay to take care of the wedding business’, and left. I knew he didn’t have the money to continue on the trip, and was glad for it. But it was Harry, always the preferred, always the luckier. The next letter he wrote to me, telling me that he won a sweepstake just a few days after I was gone, and he decided to continue on his trip around the world too. He will marry that girl when he finishes the trip. He wished to keep up to my steps, but I didn’t want to see him, so I always left before he arrived at my location and made it look like “sorry but you just missed the train”. He only caught up with me one time, in Durban, South Africa, yet then I made sure he would not see me before England.
Our families were both immigrants, so it would be definite that he would stay in England for more time to visit kins. I didn’t want to, but it happened that we met each other again at the ship tickets office in Southampton. He laughed at my shabby and worn outfit wearing the latest style. He bound me to my vows about going back home together. But I haven’t finished my trip. ‘Why go now?’ I asked myself , ‘You are running out like a cowardly quitter.” There’s still places to see, people to meet. The Russian revolutionary committee just invited me to Russia with financial assistance, and I want to go. I haven’t met Jack London, Dr. Sun Yat Sen, or Pancho Villa. Yet, my word is my bond. Harry just arrived in England then, and insisted we should buy that luxurious vessel’s third class cruise. ‘It’s the ship’s maiden voyage! The metal giant!’ He said, ‘Think how cool it is!’ He said we should reunite the day before the cruise set sail. I said yes. He talks about his trip, his luck on winning the sweepstake, the comfort rooms he had stayed in, and his fiancée. He wanted to hear my travel stories too. What can I say? I spent half of my time on the Pacific coast assisting the Chinese get back to China to overthrow the Manchu Dynasty? I met one leader of the Hindu sit down strike and interviewed him? The Russian political exiles secretly greeted me? To Harry it was all meaningless. Last night, he was talking about his Australian fiancée again. He said after getting back to America, he would bring his family to Australia, and get married there. He wishes me to be there in the wedding, to be part of his best men. He has blueprints of his future with that girl. It was bitter hearing his sweet dreams, when one cannot ignore the still existing tyranny and oppression. Harry is kind, caring, loving, a little high hating sometimes. He suits to have a family. Why does he come to me all the time, we are opposite like fire and ice! I couldn’t tell him the Russian’s invitation. It’s a secret. So I went to the pub, tried to drink myself out of the world, forgetting the existence of Harry and Russians. So it was all Harry’s fault that I’m here now on the shanghaiing ship.
Six continued on his few thoughts about his friend, until dinner. His skin was red and itchy from the sunburn of the day's work. Five sat next to him before the dinner started.
“I don’t suggest you scratch your skin too much. It will get worse if you do that. Bear it a little till we get back to the cabin. I have meds for it.” Six worked as ships’ steward many times in the past to earn free trips, so he knew about how it would be to people working on decks. He thanked Five for his suggestion anyway.
“Will we do this again tomorrow?”
“Just the first day for newcomers. Usually it's rotated work. You will get used to it anyway as a sailor now.”
“How long have you been on the ship?”
“A little more than half a year. People have been trying to abandon the ship all the time, for both just running away or the gold in California. Some succeeded, so they are always replacing people. They don’t like to do that. Paying boarding masters is not cheap.”
“What happened to the previous Six?”
Five silenced for a few seconds. “He got the shortcut.”
“How?”
“He jumped off the ship just before we reached Southampton, trying to swim to the dock. Then he got shot by the crew, which was just a warning, they wanted to get him back. But the blood attracted sharks, which tore him apart.”
“Why did he do that?”
Five sighed, then said, “his family lives in Southampton, he told me. He has been on the ship for two years, taken in at Southampton too, and it was the first time in two years that the ship travelled back to Southampton.”
The bell rang, the Wednesday menu was: cheese, a half of an onion, a bowl of dried peas, biscuits, and a cup of lemonade. It was so much better than what Six had expected on a ship that uses abducted sailors.
“You look surprised.”
“I thought… Since we are replaceable, they will treat us pretty badly. The food doesn’t look that bad at all. ”
“‘Maybe it’s not that bad to work on this ship’, you’re thinking about it now, I can see it from your face. You have fallen into their trap.”
“What?”
“It is a registered merchant vessel, and this is the basic standard portion for sailors according to the English law. Too basic if you ask me. Making the newcomers work until hurt, then the standard food would look like a first class meal, thinking this ship is not that bad. It is the trick they use to manipulate you to work for them willingly. Like I said, they don’t want to pay boarding masters too often.” Six felt a little bit ashamed. How could he not recognize this when he considered himself as one to work on the freedom of the others?
“How do you know all these?”
“I was a unionizing worker.”
“So you get abducted too, like they wanted to get rid of the trouble?”
“No.”
Five stopped talking for a while after that. Eventually, he opened his mouth again.
“You probably would also want to check your remaining belongings when you get back to the cabin. They usually just take the passport, or other important identification documents, and money, so that you don’t have means to get away. They don’t take other things, so maybe you can still have something of your own left.”
He found the jacket he was wearing that night. The money was gone, so was the cruise ticket and some identification documents. He didn’t bring his passport to the pub, so it was not taken, but it doesn’t make any difference now. He is stuck on the ship. He also found his piccolo. It looked fine. He tried a few notes, made sure it was not broken.
“You play the instrument. What’s it called?” Five saw it.
“It’s a piccolo. I played clarinet in America, but I can’t put that in my pocket.”
“You can play it with the others. There are some that play harmonica here. The shipmasters won’t stop it as long as we keep it in the cabin. They can’t stop us. It’s ours only.”
He met with the merry little band of the cabin then. There are two that play harmonica, one with castanets, one has a whistle, and one whistles really well.
“N’ now we only needa fiddler to play ina pub!” The boy who whistles clapped when he knew a piccolo player was joining them. He was Fourteen, the same as his age, never actually drank. Irish lad, been on the ship for two months. He signed up in conscience because his older brother ran away from the high-interest debt, and he, as the underwriter which he didn’t know he was, had to come up with something to pay back the debt.
“Let’s see what he can do.” Said Eight, whose bed is next to his, some older in age, which can be seen from his greying hair and tangling beard. He was on the ship because the mine he used to work at and all the other mines in the state don’t hire him anymore, but ships are lacking sailors. His sons were the local miners unionizing leaders. He sings one of the harmonica.
The boy whistled a tune, then the castanets hit the rhythm. He had not said anything since Six boarded the ship. ‘An Italian’, Five told him, ‘don’t know English much ', was conned to the ship, believing that he could escape poverty when he got to America. Never allowed to leave the ship since then’.
The harmonica duet came in. One of them sounds hoarse, probably rusted by the sea wind, or the dirt of the mine. The other is light, with fewer notes. Five was playing it. The Derby Ram, Six recognized the tune, and he joined. Rest of the people clapping, hopping in and out of the song, filling in the absurd and obscene lyrics they remembered, or just made up, making everyone laugh. It was not a bad night at all.
The singing and music eased him. On the bed, his mind flew with thoughts again. They say they need a fiddler, and I probably know one. Ain’t that different playing fiddle and violin, right? Harry would love to meet them and join them. He’s just like that.
He’s not angry with him anymore. He thought of Harry playing violin. His violin is beautiful, they will love him to be here. Why was I so angry with him? He would never want any of these to happen to me. He’s just more … conserved. Turning himself away from the sadness. Who can blame another if they just want to live a normal life? I’ve always known that someday, I will live the hell that I created on my own. I’ve committed crimes. The crime of arrogance and pride, and I know this now. It’s karma. It’s the punishment I deserve, of thinking that I know more than others, that I’m capable of freeing others from oppression. So maybe, if I suffer here, if I truly experience being one of the oppressed, maybe, everything will be better. Maybe someday, I will find a way out?
“What are you humming?” Five asked.
“Vivaldi’s Concerto No.3 in G Major.” He didn’t realize he was humming with the pleasant thoughts of self redemption and getting out, “My friend practices it often. He plays beautiful violin. He would want to join us if he heard you needed a violinist, or fiddler.”
“If we ever get off the ship.” Five turned on his back. Soon Six heard snort from up above.
The short pleasantry left. There’s no way he can get off the ship legally now, even though he was illegally brought on. How could he forget that? He didn't see a way to get out. He may never get back to his home in New York again. He may never see his family again. He may never see Harry again, and never hear his violin again. The realization hit him, at night, in the middle of a cabin full of people who for all kinds of reasons, cannot get out of this ship. He felt it now.
The next few days the sadness continued. He thought a lot of things, much about what happened during the two-year trip, and Harry. He must have figured that I was not on board now. Will he be worried, or just mad at me for not acting my vows? Will he need my help if he happens to be in an awkward situation again? Will he want a clarinet playing beside him when he performs on the ship? I will not know now. I may never know. And I will not hear his violin again. In Southampton, he told me, he had an interview and audition with the American “March King”, John Philip Sousa, and though he didn’t have an opening in his band for violinist, he gave him a recommendation to continue the pursuit of a career in concert violin. Harry is such a talented musician. His violin is like the oriental silk, tender and smooth. He deserves it. But I can never hear his violin in a concert now.
He tried to remember the last time he heard Harry’s violin. It was a long time ago, in Durban, the last time they reunited before England. He said my clarinet was much better than in California. He ignored me saying ‘no’ and dragged me to a talent contest. We won that contest. He can read and interpret music like no one else, and the judges felt that. We won that contest for his violin only. Yet he gave up his part of the prize, saying that it was my clarinet that moved the judges’ hearts. I used that prize on my solo trip, a trip to avoid Harry and meeting my own purpose only.
One time he was playing the piccolo, some folk tunes, alone, and Five came to him.
“You play good piccolo.”
“Thanks. You play good harmonica too.”
“Eight taught me. Who taught you?”
“My friend.”
“The violinist?”
“Yes. He taught me music. Urged me, actually. He said he knows I can do this just like him. I chose to play the clarinet, then piccolo because I can’t bring a clarinet all the time.”
“Are you both musicians?”
“He’s also a trimmer. We are… were both trimmers.”
“What happened to him? Is he dead?”
“Avert! Don’t say that, he’s going to be a concert violinist when he gets back to New York. We were both supposed to get back to New York before I was brought onto this ship.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“No, I know. Don’t bother. I’m not going to see him again now. Let’s not talk about him anymore. Who were you before you were on this ship?”
“I was a factory worker, smelting iron.”
“You said you were a unionizing worker.”
“Yes.”
Six blew a tune he remembers with his heart, The Internationale.
“‘Freedom is merely privilege extended, unless enjoyed by one and all’, yes, I believed in that.”
“You don’t believe it now?”
“Depending on my current situation, yes.”
“You said you weren’t abducted to the ship.”
“I signed up for it.”
“Why?”
“It was not my choice. It was my only option. No factory hires a unionized worker, and I was the leader.” Six felt a little more respect for him. He met or almost met several leaders of protests or rebellions during his trip, and he pays respect to all those people. It’s not easy to initiate and gather people for a higher purpose when they are used to the current situation, even if it was in hell that they are living.
“What happened to the other workers? Didn’t they unionize as well? ”
“They also lost their jobs, whoever joined me. The factory hires Chinese and Japanese now. They are much cheaper, and they don’t unionize. Their families blame me for that, expelling my family out of the community. I said I would leave and not come back, so that my family can still have a place to sleep.”
He shouldn’t give up on that. The idea suddenly appeared. I wouldn’t give up on that. If there is oppression, those who label themselves as the internationalists, who know better than others that we have nothing if there are no rights, should stand up and unite people to fight against the world poisoned by exploitation. Six thought he had given up, and so did Five, when they boarded the ship. But they shouldn’t. It’s not the end yet. Harry thought himself free, but he wasn't, and Six had not put enough effort to let him see that. He hasn’t finished this world trip, and he will hear Harry’s violin in a concerto.
He blew his flute again, Bella Ciao this time. Five joined with his harmonica soon. More people gathered around them, and that Italian sang:
Ed ogni ora che qui passiamo (And every hour that pass here)
O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao
Ed ogni ora che qui passiamo (And every hour that we pass here)
Noi perdiam la gioventù. (We lose our youth)
Ma verrà un giorno che tutte quante (But the day will come when us all)
O bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao
Ma verrà un giorno che tutte quante (But the day will come when we all)
Lavoreremo in libertà (Will work in freedom)
Ma verrà un giorno che tutte quante (But the day will come when we all)
Lavoreremo in libertà (Will work in freedom)
Everyone applauded when the song ended, including two players and the singer. They applaud each other.
“Hai suonato bene il flauto (You play the flute well).” The Italian said to Six.
“Eh … I don’t know what you’re saying, but thanks.”
“You r willcom.” The Italian responded, in hard English.
I never realized I actually liked to play music. I could have stopped practicing after we separated in Australia, but I didn’t. I kept on practicing especially when thoughts trouble me. And we have won a contest together. Guess Harry was right at least on this. Deep inside, we’re alike as two sides of a coin. He felt he was flowing when he was playing the piccolo. It was not like at night that his mind flew with thoughts. His mind was flowing on the strands of music, like flowing on the water, freely. ‘The shipmasters can’t take our music’, he recalled the first night he was here, what Five said. For the music is free, and so will he. I need to be like Harry this time, be charismatic, make people listen to me … Or… maybe I can convince one of the better options?
The crew is returning to the cabin now. Six intentionally left behind, and he dragged Five to walk with him.
“We should organize a mutiny.” He said to Five, in a low voice.
“WHAT?”
“Shush! Keep it down, I don’t want to tell anyone yet.”
“Why–? How–? What–?”
“Shhh– Listen to me, you and others don’t like this ship right?”
“Yes but we need the job – “
“Yes I’m aware of that. But they don’t pay fairly right, not up to the law standard?”
Five nodded, “But – ”
“Fourteen needs to pay back the debt. He will not finish the interest with the current wages even when he works until die; Eight was driven out of the mine like you and has nowhere to go now; that Italian ran away from poverty just to get on another endless underpaid life. Are these what you wanted when you unionized the factory workers?”
“Of course no!”
“Then let’s have a mutiny. Most of the crew was brought to the ship not by choice, including you. And they are all underpaid. You were an organizer once, talk to them. ”
“What about the other crew, the captain, the mate? What about the guns?”
“This is just a merchant vessel, ain’t heavy-loaded. Have you counted how many guns they have? I counted two.”
Five thought a little, “I only remember two.”
“Two is good, better less than more. But we should see in the next few days to count, making sure.”
“What if we don’t succeed?”
“They won’t kill us all. You said they want sailors, not dead sailors. If they really want someone to execute or give to law enforcers, put me out.”
“Why?”
“I’ve met some great people in the last two years, another story. Now it’s my chance to be like one of them.” He’s excited with the idea. It’s like the Mutiny on the Bounty. I could really be like those people, Gandhi, Sun Yat Sen, and Lenin. And I can say ‘I told you so’ to Harry this time.
“I’m in. You’ll not be alone when they ask for someone responsible. I will come with you.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got no place to go. So if I don’t succeed in this rebellion, or you say ‘mutiny’, I would be dead anyway. At least in prison I have prison food.”
Five convinced others into the plan in the next few days. They made sure there were only two guns on the ship, and figured out the guard rotating schedule. To a ship that most of its crew is unwillingly boarded, it was surprisingly unguarded, with only one person with a gun at night, patrolling. Perhaps people only tried to escape the ship, not actually attack it.
On the night of the mutiny, the guy with the whistle kept on blowing it loud. The guard came down to stop him, yawning. Five and Six struck him from the back. The rest blocked his mouth with clothes. They tied him up and took his gun. Next they went to the cabin of the ship’s mate. He has keys to all cabins. The mate was silenced before he could wake up. Two people stayed to guard him. They then went to the captain. He has the other gun. They controlled the sound of their movements all the time. The only unexpected thing was the noise. The door of the captain’s cabin. A loud noise. Everyone held their breath.
Another cabin near was cursing. Someone there woke up. The captain didn’t. They found his gun, and keys to his drawers. He woke up when they blocked his mouth. He reached for his gun. It was not there. He got tied up, too.
The rebellion was a success. The rest of the crew chose wisely not to resist when they saw all the two guns were on the opposite hands. The next day, they sent those ex-shipmasters and those who still stand by their side, on a lifeboat, with portions of ten days, enough to let them row to land, if in the right direction. Before they let them go, they took all their identification documents back, and the shipmasters’ documents, and the ship’s articles. They burned the latter two, so when those ex-masters landed, they could not have enough evidence to prosecute.
“What now?” Eight asked, looking at the farthing lifeboat, numbed.
“I dunno.” Fourteen answered, “Maybe weall have a new captain.”
Five and Six are in the pilothouse now. Five is on the wheel.
“You should be the new captain.” Five said, “You started it. You didn’t give up. And you were right.”
“No. You will be the new captain. You know the labors and the laws, and you want to treat them fairly. Ianto and Gwilym, and the rest would be glad to have you as the new captain.” Ianto and Gwilym are Fourteen and Eight’s names.
“What will you do then?”
“I still have places to go, trips to finish, and a person to see.”
“Your fiancée?” An intrigued tone.
“No. A friend.” I have a story to tell Harry now, about how when united we are undefeatable, and it’s a good one. “I figure that I never knew your name.”
“Isaac. My name is Isaac.” Five said.
Someone knocked on the pilothouse.
“Come in.” It was Ianto.
“The boiler is ready.” The boy looked at them, not sure how to call those two people who organized the rebellion now.
“Well, Ianto, do you want to meet your new captain?” Six smiled at the boy.
“Yes!” The boy nodded.
Isaac took the broadcast speaker of the boat, “Comrades, on Captain’s command, full speed ahead!”
“Aye! Captain!” Ianto answered, and ran out back to his work position.
Six left the ship in Port Said, Egypt. Paganini, the Italian, will stay with the ship until he decides where to go. The crew bid him farewell.
He went to the pier office, trying to find some way to get back to New York. He has no penny in his pocket now. The radio in the office is broadcasting a list of some events’ victims. Unlucky day for them. Hope they rest in peace. The man in the office is confirming his identification. He didn’t bring his passport, so it was a temporary document signed by the new captain.
“Howard Irwin.” He heard the man reading his name.
“Yes?”
“You can go to Pier 4, they are hiring ship stewards at the moment.” The man handed back his documents.
“Thank you. And you have a good day!” Howard took back his stuff, and walked towards the exit. He’s smiling. I can’t wait to get back to New York, to tell Harry the story. I will be his best man at the wedding, and call his full name - ‘Henry’ - that’s his full name. I also want to hear his violin in the concert. We can play again, together, at –
One name in the radio stopped him. It’s his name.
“... Irwin, Howard…”
It would be just another guy with the same name, a coincidence. He returned to that man.
“Sir, what is the radio’s list about?”
“You don’t know? It’s all over the news.”
“I’ve been away for some time. What is it about?”
“Geez, where have you been? It’s the Titanics. It hit an iceberg and sank two days ago in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean. It is the victim list they are casting.”
“... Sutehall, Henry Jr…” The radio kept on announcing another name.