With the help of a few of the refugees, Joe had put all the dishes away. Maybe a few remained in the drying rack when the announcement for all crew and passengers to report to the cargo bay. “Crap! Ah sure hope none of us s’in trouble,” Joe muttered to himself. He untied his apron, dropped it over the back of one of the galley chairs and headed down to the cargo bay.

He had been thinking about what he would prepare for dinner. He felt soups and sandwiches were the easiest. He had a few frozen turkeys but would need time to thaw them out before serving. Then there was mashed potatoes. He’d need help peeling those potatoes. [i]‘This could be tomorrow’s dinner, but not something for today,’[/i] he thought to himself. [i]‘Maybe I could make another pot of chili?’[/i] He made that some weeks ago, early on in their voyages.

He ran into the first officer on the way to the cargo bay, “Mister Yoo Ree, kin I git some hep in the galley? Ah’s thinkin of cookin turkey fer tomorrow’s meal. I need hep peelin potatoes. Ah could use hep from someone good with a knife. Gots anyone in mind?”

“And what’s this nonsense all about?”