Boxing Day Shanty

Sunday. Boxing Day. Finished the captain’s shanty at dawn and the first prisoners were in it by lunchtime. Nobody gave me a day off. Nobody ever gives me a day off.

It is a lovely shanty, if I say so myself, and nobody else will, because the captain thinks he built it. Timber walls, rope, rum barrels, a barred window looking out at the reef, and his treasure hidden somewhere he is very proud of.

Here is what I did not tell him. When I hung the last lantern I stood in the doorway and thought about the poor souls who would end up locked in here, sunburnt and cross, with his sails coming over the horizon. Then I went round the room one more time. Tidying. I am a very tidy man.

The first crew got out. The captain says it was beginner’s luck. The second crew got out. The captain says it was the wind. I said nothing and polished a cutlass so I would have something to do with my face.

Everyone thinks this scar means I am dangerous. It means I once lost an argument with a hammock. Some secrets a man takes to the bottom of the sea.