[ CW ] `` ... flip to page 43 of a dictionary and take the first word and run with it . ''

`` Be careful!'' the **affreighter** growled, not provoked by any action in particular, at the now startled, haggard laborers who were carting his boxes from the deck into the bow. He stomped back-and-forth along the queued men waiting to hand off their burdens to the others stacking below. The ship's sway -- no matter how irregular it became -- never broke his stride. The captain appeared out of the ship's depths, having to push, not without difficulty, his way around the bodies clogging the doorway. 
 
 `` Is this the last of it, Mr. Phillips?'' 
 
 `` Yes. Only a few left.'' 
 
 `` I really do wish you'd tell me what I'm hauling across the goddamn sea.'' 
 
 `` Captain.'' Mr. Phillips raised his brow and inflated his chest. `` You did not have these reservations a month ago when we met on this very dock and I counted bills into your hand.'' 
 
 `` I expected to be held in the dark only about the end purpose of this cargo and to whom I was delivering it. You wo n't even tell me it's base composition. I could be hauling around a pile of Uranium for all I know.'' 
 
 `` Calm yourself Captain. We would have already felt the onset of radiation poisoning if that were so.'' 
 
 `` Dammit -- at least tell me if it's dangerous.'' 
 
 `` I assure you no harm will come to you, your men, or your ship if you follow my instructions precisely....And one of those instructions is to stop asking questions about the cargo.'' 
 
 `` At least answer me this: is Mr. Phillips your real name?'' 
 
 `` Of course it is.'' 
 
 `` I do n't believe you. Why would you be so concerned about keeping this cargo a mystery but so unconcerned about attaching your identity to it? The emails and postage exchanged between us all bare this name.'' 
 
 `` Because you will not deviate from my instructions in the least. And therefore, there will be no ill consequences of my attachment to this operation.'' Mr. Phillips turned and started towards the dock. `` Safe sailing, Captain.'' 
 
 Once Mr. Phillips disappeared into the early morning mist and his silhouette could be seen moving under the dock lights several hundred yards away, the captain said to the nearest deck hand, `` Get me a crowbar,'' and the hand returned with one within the minute. Descending the stairs into the bow, the captain muttered to himself, `` If I've learned one thing in my years at sea, it's not to leave port without inspecting every inch of my ship.'' The captain approached the first row of stacked boxes and ordered two men to lift one to the ground, which they did. One fierce swing lodged the crowbar under the box's sealing planks. Then, with a grunt and a pull, the Captain splintered the plank free of its binding nails. 
 
 The interior of the box was dark except for a shade of green revealed by a narrow shaft of light coming through a nearby porthole. The captain pulled out a flashlight from his jacket pocket and ignited it. The box's contents were thrown into color: bright yellows and greens and some specs of brown. One of the on-looking hands reached in without hesitation. `` Bananas?'' he said bewilderedly more towards the fruit in his hand than the others in the room. `` What the fuck?'' said the captain. The captain ordered another box be brought before him. It was and revealed the same contents. Another was unstacked only to again contain bananas. 
 
 Just as the wood of this last box cracked open, a deck-hand came rushing down the stairs. `` Captain! Mr. Phillips is on deck!'' The captain bounded up the stairs and was forced to squint in the light of the now risen sun. 
 
 Mr. Phillips stood with his feet spread and his hands in his pockets. `` Captain. Those bananas are for Carter.'' 

