201-998-2666: Me too.
609-292-4087: You don’t know where he is?
201-998-2666: No
609-292-4087: You’ll find him:) Everyone turns up
201-998-2666: Thanks. I hope so.
609-292-4087: So r u really going to congo? That’s in africa????
201-998-2666: Yes. I’m kind of nervous. We’re taking a boat.
609-292-4087: Boat to africa! Like a movie:)
201-998-2666: I’ll miss you
609-292-4087: I was thinking about u
201-998-2666: Yeah?
609-292-4087: Did u know yr name is same forward-> RADAR back-> RADAR:)
201-998-2666: Yours is too! At least ANA is. Cristina kind of messes it up. .
201-998-2666: Just kidding.
609-292-4087: your funny!!!
201-998-2666: Oh. I can’t go. I can’t leave you!!!
609-292-4087: I’ll be here when you get back:)
201-998-2666: You promise? You’re like the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I feel like I’ve known u forever
609-292-4087: I know what u mean
609-292-4087: U there?
201-998-2666: Sorry, We’re here I think. I have to go. Ahh!
609-292-4087: Don’t worry be safe!!! I’ll miss you
201-998-2666: I’ll try to text u when I’m in the congo
609-292-4087: Okay that would be great:)
609-292-4087: Like my own reporter in the jungle:)
201-998-2666: It’s weird how close
201-998-2666: I feel to u now. Just the words between us
201-998-2666:???
609-292-4087: I know
609-292-4087: Nos vemos radar — ><-
201-998-2666: What’s this? — ><-?
609-292-4087: I just made it up:) same backward & forward
201-998-2666: Okay. I get it
609-292-4087: Maybe its being close w/o being close
201-998-2666: — ><- see you
609-292-4087: — ><- x
2
As dawn broke across the Newark quayside, Radar stood on the dock watching the great white shipping container slowly descend into the hull of the ship. The gantry crane jammed and the container jerked sideways, swaying back and forth against a velvet maroon sky. From inside the container they could hear crashing and splintering.
“Jebi se!” Otik yelled next to Radar. “They are fucking it! Tell them they are fucking it!”
But then the cable winch caught again and the box resumed its graceless plunge into the bowels of the boat.
The Aleph—the vessel to which they were about to entrust their passage across the Atlantic — had seen better days. Her hull was pockmarked by welding scars and archipelagoes of rust, and with every meager rise and trough of the sheltered bay, her joints creaked a painful symphony. In an oddly boastful tone for a man revealing his ship’s inadequacies, the captain had informed them that she was supposed to carry six thousand tons but in her current state could manage only five, and that even this sank her below her summer Plimsoll.
“But she will not sink?” Otik said nervously. “She floats, right?”
“It’s true, she’s unhappy with the world,” the captain said in lieu of an answer.
Dressed in the crisp whites of his command, Captain Alfonso Daneri was a barrel of a man. He had greeted each of them with both hands, as if he had known them for years. His beard looked like a giant sea urchin hauled up from the depths, and his eyebrows were two monstrous caterpillars that haunted his forehead, undulating with every consonant.
“Some boats are born this way,” said the captain. “Some boats learn their misery. She was put on the blocks for two years in Quanzhou, and now she trusts no one.” He was rubbing his hands together in slow, languid circles, as if savoring a piece of music that had only just finished.
“‘She trust no one,’” Otik repeated. “What does this mean? This is something you say and everybody says ‘Okay, yes,’ but actually no one knows what in fuck you are talking about.”
“The sea takes back everything she gives,” said Captain Daneri, clearly enjoying himself. He tapped the toe of his boot against one of the kidney-shaped bollards that secured his ship. “She signs no allegiance. She has no kin, keeps no kin, owes no favors.”
Radar noticed the captain swaying ever so slightly. He had the sudden urge to reach out and steady him.
Otik scoffed. “This is man who will take us to Africa? Oh, please. We make some more chance to swim there.”
Lars stepped in, placing a hand on Otik’s shoulder.
“Apologies, Captain. We’re all a little tired,” he said. “What he means to say is only that we’re transporting valuable cargo and want to make sure the ship’s seaworthy.”
Captain Daneri’s face grew suddenly serious.
“You see these boxes?” he said, gesturing at the rows and rows of multicolored containers stacked four high across the deck of the ship. “This is the new world. These boxes disrupt space and time. The world is now inside the box.”
“I don’t know about you,” Otik said to Lars. “But if I’m going to die, I choose to die maybe somewhere in the jungle, on land, not in middle of fucking ocean.”
“All right, calm down,” said Lars. “I happen to agree with the captain. One could make the argument that the world is inside the box.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ve never lost one,” said the captain. “There once was a group of pirates in Lagos who snuck aboard my ship. They went for one of the boxes sitting on the deck. They didn’t know what was inside; they just went for the nearest one with a crowbar. And do you know what they found? Horses. Thoroughbreds. We were bringing them down to a race in South Africa. Their trainer was upstairs asleep at the time. But can you imagine? The pirates open this box, they are like boys at Christmas, and what do they find? Horses.”
Fig. 5.1. “Parts of Shipping Container” and “How to Load a Ship”
From Peels, S. (1999), A Short History of Deliverance, pp. 69, 83
“You transport horses?” asked Radar.
“Oh, no. Not anymore.”
“So what happened?”
“It was very unfortunate. The horses got loose on the deck. One of the animals went overboard. Another broke its leg. A terrible shame. I had to shoot the beast in the head with a pistol. It looked at me, very calm. It knew what must be done.”
“And what about pirates?” said Otik.
“Oh, we caught them. I showed them the box and I said, ‘You will never touch another box again.’ And then I tied their feet together and I said, ‘Go find me that horse,’ and I pushed them off my ship.”
“You killed them,” said Otik.
“No, no, no,” laughed the captain. “I gave them the gift of the sea.” He made a fist with his hand and kissed it.
• • •
THEY WERE THE ONLY human cargo. Radar was not sure whether their presence on board was even legal or whether technically they were stowaways, but when it came time to depart, the captain made a flourish of inviting them to stand on the bridge wing while they pulled away from the docks. A scruffy local pilot, who looked and smelled as if he had only recently stopped drinking, came aboard to guide them out of the harbor. It was clear the captain was none too pleased with the man’s brazen intoxication, but he did not protest as the pilot parked himself on the bridge and started issuing instructions.