Deep

Having done some maintenance, Littlewood gathered the passengers in the cabin and informed them of their current status.

‘We’re not far off, but Dolores is sagging.  I’ve noticed it since she was put in the air.  We need to lose some weight.  It’s dragging her under.  I don’t know what the problem is exactly, but I know for sure the hull’s breaking under the pressure.  She’s riding low.  We need to get rid of the excess.’

‘So which one of us will it be?’ asked Masterson.

‘Pardon?’

‘Which of us overboard?’

‘I’m quite happy to throw ya over, but that’s not what I mean.  We have a ton of stuff down in that cubby.  We need to send some of it packing.’

‘Like what exactly?’ asked Geissel. 

‘The books.  Even with Walter gone – sorry, Katrine – those books are weighing the ship down atrociously.  We need to get rid of some of them.  You’ve a bloody library down there.’

Geissel turned to the Captain, aghast.  ‘And why not throw your books?  That nonsense with the whales. ‘

‘Excuse me: that is Dr. O’Rahilly you are talking about.  A well-respected professor at the University of Ramsgate.’

‘But we are nearly there.  A few miles off.  Why now?’

‘We might not get there.  And if we do, how do you expect us to leave?  Think about me.  I’ve to go the whole way back to Ireland after all of this.  Neverbloodymind me.  Think about Dolores.’

There wasn’t much argument after that.

Father Geissel sulked his way down to the cubby.  And started gathering up as many hardbacks as he could carry.  Most of it was poetry.  Tears.

He stomped back up to deck.

Shot a look of martyrdom at Captain Littlewood.

And he flung hard William Blake

                                                Into the sea.

Then                                                   speareandWilliamWord           

                                                 Shake                                        sworth

                                    William                                                               and

              Tennyson

                                                                                                                     Yeats    and

                                                                                                                                               Dr

                                                                                                William

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Carlos

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Williams

Until all that poetry was in the deep. 

But he kept Keats.