The Pirate Ship

 Captain Jane Shackleton, commanding the container ship Miranda, no longer needed her binoculars to track the phenomena approaching her ship. "Captain," Ensign Tom Waterman said, "We're picking up something big in that squall. On a direct intercept course at… 40 knots." 

It's big enough to hide a battleship, Shackleton thought.

She had read the reports and had thought them to be a fantasy, an excuse for poor seamanship, an attempt by the captains of those three lost ships to shift blame and save their careers. Pirates? A storm ship? It seemed crazy, and yet, she could not deny what she was seeing.

"Set course to 120, full speed ahead," Captain Shackleton ordered. The Miranda wouldn't be able to outrun whatever that was. Still, she felt it was her duty to try. Was it a squall? A fog bank? It seemed like a living thing, it's grey and black muscles flexing, it's malevolent thoughts manifesting as flashes of lightning. Whatever it was, it took just a few minutes before it had enveloped her ship.

The bridge's lighted gauges, weather tracking monitors, and various instruments monitoring the life signs of the Miranda went dark and the loud, dissonant humming background noise of the engines dissipated to silence.

"Captain!" Ensign Waterman exclaimed. "We've lost power."

"You have a keen sense of the obvious, Ensign Waterman," Captain Shackleton said as the emergency lights tripped on. "Get down to the engine room and see if you can help Mr. Ericson get us back on line."

"Aye, Captain," Ensign Waterman said, but when he opened the door to leave the bridge, his path was blocked by a man in black scuba gear. He pushed the ensign back onto the bridge. Two men, tricked out in identical gear, followed them onto the bridge.

"What the hell?" Ensign Waterman said, the fear obvious in his voice, his hands half raised in a defensive posture.

One of the three men stepped forward and spoke. "My apologies for the dramatic entrance, Captain Shackleton. But, as you may know, pirates have a certain reputation to live up to. We are taking the Miranda as our prize." He paused. "We really don't want to see anyone get hurt but I assure you my men are quite capable and will take whatever actions become necessary."

"You have me at a disadvantage. Captain?" Shackleton said, remembering what the captains of those doomed cargo ships had reported. 

He removed his dark facemask, revealing a man in his early fifties, with greying hair and neatly trimmed beard, a nose twice broken and eyes that glittered with mischief. He smiled. "You may call me Nemo."

"Like the lost fish in the movie?" Ensign Waterman asked with a sly grin.

"Not exactly a fan of the classics, I see," Nemo said.

"Finding Nemo is a classic," Ensign Waterman said.

"Our guest is referencing the captain from the Jules Verne novel, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea," Captain Shackleton said. 

"Thank you, Captain, but I'm afraid Ensign Waterman has ruined the moment," Nemo said. With what Shackleton thought was a cruel smile, Nemo said, "Ensign Waterman only pretends not to know who I am." He looked at his two men. "Mr. North. Enable the ship's comms so the Captain can inform her crew to make for the lifeboats." One of the two men moved to the controls and sat down to work while the second remained in the passageway, blocking the exit from the bridge.

"I believe the fictional Nemo thought he was doing good by destroying ships of war. So, why the Miranda?" Captain Shackleton said "We're transporting clothing, shoes, tractor parts, and the like. We're hardly a threat to world peace. Or are you an imperfect metaphor, Captain Nemo?"

"You are also transporting weapons, Captain Shackleton," Nemo said. 

"Weapons?" Shackleton said. "I'd never have anything to do with something like that."

"I believe you, Captain." Nemo said. "Not knowingly, of course. Unlike Ensign Dory, here."

"Tom?" Captain Shackleton said. "What's he talking about?"

Ensign Waterman stood silently for a moment. Rather than answer his captain's question, he said, "The owners of those other ships may have refused to meet your price, but our owners will happily pay a generous ransom for the Miranda and it's cargo, Captain Nemo. Just name your price."

"You shouldn't believe everything you read, Ensign Waterman. I'm not in this for the money," Nemo said. He turned to Captain Shackleton. "They're on your manifest as processed foods. Handguns, long rifles, RPGs, and a rather unreasonable amount of high explosives. Destined for some of the most evil, dangerous, thoughtlessly cruel, barely human people on this planet. A bloody future that no longer exists thanks to this… intervention."

"Nemo," Captain Shackleton said. "I suppose it makes sense. Insane. Megalomaniac. Delusional at best. I suppose you call your ship the Nautilus, too."

"Ouch!" Nemo said, then smiled. "So are the visionaries among us always seen to be. I believe you're selling the fictional Nemo a bit short. I found him to be complex and tragic. As for myself, I thought Nautilus might be too on the nose, if you will, and decided to go with the Tempest. Poetic and evocative, don't you think?"

"Comms online," Mr. North said.

"Thank you, Mr. North," Nemo said.

"So," Captain Shackleton said. "What are my orders?"

"Abandon ship," Nemo said. "Contrary to your junior officer's misapprehension of my motives, we'll be sinking the Miranda. You have twenty minutes to get your crew onto the lifeboats and make way before we put two torpedoes amidships." 

"And if I refuse?" Captain Shackleton asked.

"You'll have a front row seat. Should be spectacular given the half ton of C4 in that container logged as baby food." Nemo turned to Ensign Waterman. "One has to appreciate the dark humor in that, I suppose."

"Then you will be our murderer," Shackleton said. She was well aware of the care that had been taken in the sinking of the first two ships to ensure the crew had made it to safety. 

"You mistake me for yourself, Captain Shackleton," Nemo said. "You're young and have yet to learn that not everyone thinks about things the same way that you do. I see you still think you're in position to negotiate. Unlike the brave Ensign Waterman, you have yet to raise your arms in surrender."

"I am the captain of this ship," Shackleton said defiantly.

Nemo smiled and nodded. "Captain Shackleton. I'd prefer it if you and your crew, well, most of your crew," he said, looking at Ensign Waterman, "escape to safety on the lifeboats but I promise you, I will sink the Miranda." He paused. "Sometimes being a good person is a disadvantage, Captain. Now is one of those times."

Shackleton took the handset. She pushed the button on the console to sound the general alarm. "Attention! Attention, all hands! This is Captain Shackleton. Abandon ship! This is not a drill. Abandon ship!"

"Thank you, Captain," Nemo said. He turned to the man guarding the passageway. "Mr. West, you may stand down." Mr. West stepped aside.

Nemo gestured toward the passageway door. "Captain Shackleton. Ensign Waterman. Godspeed."

Ensign Waterman, his hands still raised in surrender, said, "You won't get away with this, you know. You have no idea who you're screwing with."

"Bravely said, Ensign Waterman," Nemo said. "But I assure you, I know exactly who I'm screwing with. Please give my regards to Mr. Daeva when you see him. I hope, for your sake, that he won't be too disappointed in you. And you now have 19 minutes."

*****

The two large lifeboats, carrying the six officers and fourteen crew members of the Miranda, raced away to the west, away from the doomed ship. They were clear of the squall and the fog that enshrouded the Miranda. Captain Shackleton checked her watch. It had been nearly 30 minutes since they'd made for the boats. She thought maybe this Nemo character had lied about his intentions. She looked up to see he was only behind schedule as the explosion lit up the fog bank, which quickly dissipated, revealing the Miranda. It was already listing heavily to port, engulfed in flames. A second explosion from containers near the bow of the ship finished it. That must be the baby food, she thought. The Miranda was gone in less than a minute.

"Who are you?" Captain Shackleton asked Ensign Waterman. "I mean really."

Ensign Waterman shrugged. "Does it matter? We're as good as dead. I am, in any case. And your career is over."

"What are you talking about?" Captain Shackleton asked.

"You just sent $500 million to the bottom of the Atlantic without putting up a fight. Who's going to give you another ship?" Waterman said. Shackleton couldn't help but recall the contempt she'd felt for the first three ships' masters who'd fallen victim to this modern day Nemo. Ensign Waterman - or whoever he really was - was probably right. "Cheer up, Captain. At least you'll be alive."

*****

Jane Shackleton sat at a table in the Cafe Mediterraneo, sipping her after dinner coffee, scrolling through the article on her phone, reading about the dead man. Tom Waterman, identified in the article as the scion to a custom metals company in New Jersey, Waterman and Sons, had been a better fortune teller than a sailor, Shackleton thought. He was dead and she was looking for a new career.   

"I'm so glad to see you joined your crew, Captain Shackleton, rather than go down with the ship in some vain and archaic gesture of heroism." 

She looked up from her phone. It was Nemo.

"May I join you?" he asked.

She put her phone down on the table. Noting Nemo's eyes, she flipped it over face down. "It isn't Captain Shackleton any more. Thanks to you. Call me Ms. Shackleton," she said. She made a dismissive gesture at the other chair at her table. "I'd rather you didn't."

He sat down. "So formal, Jane. Do you really mind if I call you Jane?"

"Yes. I do, actually," she said.

"Very well," he said. "Ms. Shackleton it is."

A waiter appeared and asked, "Will you be joining the lady for coffee, sir?"

"No," Shackleton said. "He was just leaving."

Nemo laughed. "Don't be silly, Jane." He consulted his watch. "I have a few minutes.  I'll have a chai tea, please."

"Very good, sir," the waiter said.

"And could you put that in a 'to go' cup? As my good friend just reminded me, I'm a bit pressed for time."

"Of course, not a problem," the waiter said and left.

"Aren't you afraid of being recognized?" Shackleton asked.

"I am often confused with George Clooney," Nemo said with a smile, "But I am never recognized."

"Clooney? Seriously?" Shackleton said.

Nemo shrugged. "It's aspirational." He paused. "It's the nose, isn't it? You really should see a picture of me from my twenties. I think you'd see the resemblance."

"What do you want?" Shackleton asked.

"Just the chai tea," Nemo said. "And you."

"Oh? You ruin my life and then you hit on me? You obviously have a very high opinion of yourself," Shackleton said. "You'll just have to be satisfied with the chai tea."

"Well, I suppose I do have a rather high opinion of myself, I can't deny that, and apparently you have a rather high opinion of yourself, as well, but you misapprehend me, Ms. Shackleton," Nemo said. He paused. "I'd say I was here to save your life but that sounds like something an insane, delusional megalomaniac would say, so instead I'll just say I'm offering you a job."

"Saving my life? The life you ruined?" Shackleton said bitterly.

"I saw your testimony," Nemo said. "You did an admirable job avoiding the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Even I believed that you believed you were only carrying clothing, shoes, tractor parts, and the baby food, of course. Still, you have to know that you're a loose end. People like John Daeva hate loose ends. I believe you had nothing to do with the weapons on the Miranda, making you very much the person who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time." He paused for effect and nodded at her phone. "I see you've read about Ensign Waterman's coincidental ending."

The story she had just read had characterized Tom Waterman's death as a "freak accident." Anything related to the modern day Nemo was all over the news and social media, so it was hard to miss the story of the man who survived pirates on the high seas only to die by elevator in the high rise condo where he lived in Miami. 

"So, you're saying I should avoid elevators?" Shackleton said.

"Elevators, banks, gas stations," Nemo said. He made a sweeping gesture with his right arm. "Restaurants. Everywhere, really. John Daeva is the richest, most powerful man on the planet. He's richer than Bezos, Gates, and Buffett combined. He owns Zuckerberg and controls his social media platforms. He has two senators in his checkbook."

"Just two?" Shackleton asked with a smile.

"It's all he needs," Nemo said. "The point is that he's more powerful than any head of state, as he operates without the constraints, however illusory, of legislative bodies, laws, or treaties. He traffics guns, drugs, and human beings. No one knows what he looks like or where he is and no one is beyond his reach."

"Does that include you?" Shackleton asked.

Nemo smiled. "I took a risk coming here today. I'd be lying if I said otherwise."

"I'm flattered," Shackleton said.

"You should be," Nemo said. He smiled. "I know you."

"You know me," Shackleton sneered, making no effort to hide her contempt.

"I know you started your career in rescue. I know you worked on hospital ships. Relief missions. Refugees. You were on your way to sainthood," Nemo said.

"I hardly think so," Shackleton said.

"What brought you to work on a cargo ship?" Nemo asked. 

Shackleton considered her answer. She shrugged. "It was a pragmatic decision. I was broke. Capitalism pays better than altruism."

"I'm disappointed that you would lie to me," Nemo said.

"Why should I tell you the truth?" Shackleton asked.

"Have you told yourself the truth?" Nemo asked. Shackleton did not answer. "Life is hard. It's bloody and filthy and it all ends in death. And yet we fight the good fight. But sometimes you need to step back. To take care of yourself. There's no sin in that, Jane." He paused. "I know you're alone. No family. Father and mother dead, killed in a car accident - one you survived - when you were just three years old. When your grandparents died five years later you wound up in foster care. You haven't had a relationship that lasted more than three months," Nemo said.

"The life of a sailor," Shackleton said with a smile that lacked conviction.

Nemo sighed. "I understand how it feels to lose your family," Nemo said. 

Shackleton studied the man for a moment. He seemed sincere. Or was he merely charming? Wasn't that a trait of sociopaths? "You lost your family. So, what then? I'm supposed to be the daughter you never had?" Did he wince almost imperceptibly just then? Shackleton wondered if she had touched a nerve.

Nemo recovered; his smile bright again. "A man in my position is always looking to add talented people to his team. Obviously, I've done my research on you - think of it as an employment background check - and I was impressed by you in our first encounter. Unlike the first three captains, all of whom practically pissed themselves when we took their ships, you never flinched."

"I did give up the ship," she said.

"You made the right call. You saved your crew. More importantly, to me, you saved yourself. I believe you're ready to rejoin the fight. I believe the job I'm offering you is the job you've been looking for your entire life. A job where you can make a difference, a job where you can make the world a better place or at the very least, give you a platform to rage against the dying of the light, if you'll allow me the poetic license." He paused. "Six figure starting salary. Employer matching 401(k). Full benefits day one, including dental and vision, zero co-pays." He smiled. "What do you say?"

Jane Shackleton hesitated. It was all too surreal. Nemo spun a compelling yarn but should she trust him? And what of this Bond-level supervillain, John Daeva? His shadowy existence was all too convenient. Was he real or was he just the personification of Nemo's paranoid delusion? Delusion? The storm ship - the Tempest - had been real enough. Was Nemo really just a mysterious, heavily armed pacifist trying to save the world one torpedo at a time? Nemo. No man. Who was he? Was it some childhood trauma that had triggered his violent altruism? Was she conflating him with Batman now? The realization forced a smile. She knew there was evil as well as good in this world but it was never so black and white as it appeared to be in Nemo's.

A quick series of dull popping noises derailed her train of thought.

Nemo stood. "I really thought we'd have a little more time but it appears Mr. Daeva's men have arrived earlier than expected. Quite rude, really." He extended his hand. "We'll be leaving through the kitchen. I have a car waiting."

"I haven't said yes," Shackleton said.

The sound of gunfire was closer, louder, sharper now.

"I won't leave you here to die," Nemo said. "If your answer to my generous offer of employment is no, then I'll drop you wherever you'd like. But you can't stay here."

Shackleton stood but did not take his hand. "All right. Let's go."

As they turned to leave, their waiter came through the door to the kitchen into the dining room. Nemo took the chai tea from his hand as they headed into the kitchen. "Thank you."

*****

They made their escape with little difficulty, driving through the night to a small airport north of Portsmouth, where a helicopter was waiting for them. They flew out over the open ocean for twenty minutes, stopped and hovered.

"Are we meeting someone?" Shackleton shouted into her mic.

Nemo nodded and pointed to the sea, thirty feet below them. 

Shackleton watched as lights describing a large, bifurcated rectangle that looked as big as a football field appeared below the surface. The lights grew brighter as the platform rose and broke the surface, until it was a good ten feet above the rolling swell. The platform opened in the middle, the two large panels parting to reveal a landing pad for the helicopter. 

"I'm glad you said yes," Nemo shouted. He reached out and tapped the pilot's shoulder and they began their descent. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Nemo's base of operations - The Bubble - was anything but humble. A high tech dormitory for the Tempest's crew, machinery and fabrication shops with 3D printers, labs, a restaurant, a movie theater, a gym with racquetball courts, and an underwater docking station for the Tempest. The technology behind his sub and the storm generator were closely guarded but their mere existence - not to mention The Bubble itself - spoke to Nemo's genius. It was hard for Shackleton not to be impressed.

Shackleton's quarters were best described as a luxury condo. It was, in fact, the nicest place she had ever known and a far cry from the damp, basement apartment where she had most recently lived. She didn't make friends, she was no good at making friends, but she grew to feel comfortable with the men and women who lived and worked in The Bubble and crewed the Tempest. She even came to be familiar with a few of them; regular conversations on the exercise bikes in the gym with a younger woman named Oceana of all things, a technician who architected and managed Nemo's private network. She shared a regular lunch table with Annette, Hazelton, and Mr. North, all members of Nemo's elite assault unit. It seemed that everyone in The Bubble had a first or a last name but not both. Everyone knew her simply as Shackleton. 

Except for Nemo, of course.

*****

Shackleton entered Nemo's cabin. "You wanted to see me?"

Nemo was sitting at a small desk covered with charts. He smiled and stood to greet her. "Yes. Thanks. Take a seat," Nemo said, gesturing at the only other chair in his quarters.

"How are you doing, Jane?" Nemo asked.

"Good," Shackleton said, taking the measure of her captain. She was a little surprised by the rush of emotion. She had come to admire the man and yes, he had become something of a father figure to her; the man she was not sure she would ever truly know had become the father she had never known.

"How long has it been?" Nemo asked.

"You know the answer to that question as well as I do," Shackleton said. It had been three years and three months. Over the course of that time she had become adept at Jeet Kune Do and a marksman with the Beretta Px4 she carried as a sidearm. Nemo himself never carried a weapon but made sure his crew could defend themselves if the situation demanded it. She had initially resisted having a gun, not wanting to fall back into the darkening gyre of cynicism that had captured her heart prior to her encounter with Nemo. She couldn't quite reconcile how her expertise with a gun had consoled her but she also could not deny how being strapped made her feel. She no longer felt powerless. 

Together, they had completed 12 missions and along the way, she had become Nemo's most trusted lieutenant.

Nemo nodded. "We've done a lot of good work," he said. Indeed, Nemo and his mysterious storm ship hadn't just sunk ships and deprived John Daeva's criminal enterprise of the cogs and sprockets of his death machinery, the investigations into the sinking of those 12 ships had inevitably uncovered the connection to Daeva himself. Information that Nemo had leaked to the press had also helped in that regard. Legal actions by the world governments had crippled Daeva's appalling operations in human trafficking while Nemo had sent billions of dollars worth of guns and drugs to the bottom of the ocean.

"Thank you, Captain," Shackleton said.

"I have something for you," Nemo said. He retrieved a disk from his center desk drawer and handed it to Shackleton.

"What's this?" Shackleton asked.

Nemo paused. "I've been thinking of retirement," he said.

"Retirement," Shackleton said. She considered the disk in her hand. "This isn't some kind of Dread Pirate Robert scenario, is it?" Nemo only smiled in response. "I'll be the new Nemo while you retire to a life of happily ever after with Princess Buttercup?"

"I'm familiar with the story," Nemo said.

"I mean, how would that even work? You know, given the obvious differences between us."

"Nemo," Nemo said. "No man. It seems to write itself."

"I don't know," Shackleton said. She put the disk on Nemo's desk. "I don't know if I'm up to it. Besides, Daeva's empire is crumbling. You've won."

"Our final victory may be at our fingertips but we've yet to grasp it. Besides, when Daeva falls, another will rise to take his place," Nemo said. "It's the circle of -"

"The circle of life?" Shackleton smiled.

"Death," Nemo said. "There will always be more work for us - for you - to do." He leaned back in his chair. "Take the disk. Hold onto it. You'll know when to look at it."

Shackleton hesitated. 

"Please," Nemo said. 

Shackleton took the disk and stood. "Anything else, Captain?" she asked.

"I've uploaded the information on our next target. Take a look. We'll intercept tomorrow morning," Nemo said. 

"Lucky 13," Shackleton said.

Nemo nodded. "Luck has nothing to do with it," he said. Shackleton saw his face change. A sadness dampened his features and he seemed suddenly older. "That's all, Lieutenant."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Shackleton said and left with the disk in hand.

*****

They disabled and boarded the freighter Patna just as they had a dozen times before. Nemo, Shackleton, Mr. North and Mr. West took the bridge without resistance from the ship's captain and two officers on duty. The Patna's men carried sidearms but raised their hands and acquiesced to Nemo's commands to stand down and step away from the ship's controls. Shackleton recognized the Patna's captain immediately.

"Brother Jules," the captain said as Nemo removed his facemask. "It's so very good to see you again."

"Long time, brother John" Nemo said. "I really thought I'd see you again much, much sooner than this."

"John Daeva is your brother," Shackleton said. It was more of a realization than a surprise.

"My twin brother," Nemo said.

"Didn't he tell you?" Daeva asked. "I'm hurt, Jules. Truly, deeply hurt."

"Lieutenant Shackleton," Nemo said, "It's my distinct displeasure to introduce you to my brother, John Daeva."

"You said your family was dead," Shackleton said.

"I said I had lost my family," Nemo said. "But he is dead to me."

"As you are to me," Daeva said. "Or soon will be." He spoke directly to Shackleton. "My brother is obsessed. He really should've taken on the identity of Ahab, rather than Nemo. Much like Ahab's white whale, he seems to blame me for all the evil in the world."

"Not all of it," Nemo said.

"But I can only sell those things that other people are willing to buy. There's no good or bad in the marketplace. It's just business," Daeva said. "Tell me what Jules is paying you and I'll double it. Hell, I'll just add a zero to the end of it. Business, despite the nuisance Jules has become, is quite good."

"Tell me, John," Nemo said. "Is it a trap if you know it's a trap?"

Shackleton, Mr. North and Mr. West had their weapons out a split second after Daeva and his men made their move. The sound of the bullets being fired exploded in the small space, the muzzles flashing like strobe lights, freezing snapshots of death. 

It was over quickly.

Mr. North and Mr. West moved to check Daeva's and his men's bodies. It took a moment before Shackleton saw that Nemo had fallen. She knelt to check for a pulse but knew as soon as she looked at him that he was dead. It had been a while but she had seen the unmistakable look of death before. She was overwhelmed by emotion, crushed by the implacable force of tragedy, by the sudden shock of once again feeling alone. She fought back her tears but lost, forced to wipe them away with the back of her hand. She stood and walked over to where Mr. North and Mr. West stood over Daeva and his men.

She had put two rounds in Daeva's chest, she was sure of it, but there was no blood. She knelt down and pulled open his shirt. Body armor. She stood. Daeva groaned. His eyes blinked open. He saw Shackleton, her gun trained on his face. "Wait!" he said. "You don't have to do this!"

"I'm afraid I do," Shackleton said. She pulled the trigger and blew off the top of John Daeva's head. 

"Let's go," she said to Mr. North and Mr. West.

"What about the crew?" Mr. North asked.

"They're all Daeva's men," Shackleton said. "Take Nemo's body back to the ship."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Mr. North said.

Ten minutes later, Shackleton gave the order to fire the torpedoes, sending the Patna and it's crew to the bottom of the ocean.

*****

She slid the disk into the drive and the video began to play, with Nemo's face in close up.

"Not to be too cliche but I suppose I have to start by saying, if you're watching this, then I am dead. You'll forgive my ego if I call that the bad news. I am going to miss me. The good news then? If you're watching this, you are alive...

"I never lied to you, Jane, but I didn't exactly tell you the truth, either. By now you know my real name is Jules Daeva and that I'm the twin brother of John Daeva, the man we have fought together for these past three years to bring to justice. I suppose I simply couldn't admit it; admit that I was the brother of one of if not the most evil man this world has ever known. So, I adopted the identity of Nemo. Of no man... 

"From the moment I took on the name, and the imperfect metaphor as you put it the first time we met, I knew that it would have to end like this. I knew John would set a trap for me, eventually. As much as I hated him, I knew I couldn't kill my own brother. You always hated it when I said that I knew you but I knew that you would be able to do what I could not...

"I just realized. Perhaps the metaphor isn't as imperfect as you thought, given that death is a mysterious island, a place where my story as well as the fictional Nemo's had to end. Now John, like myself, will be forever in the past tense. It's a trade I would happily make a thousand times over... 

"John is dead but evil is not. Not to sound terribly melodramatic, but the battle between good and evil goes on forever. Or for as long as good stands. I'm sorry I had to ask you to take on this burden but I know your heart and I could not have found anyone better to fight this good fight, not if I'd had a hundred years. I know I'm asking a lot. I hope you will say yes. Again. And I hope you will forgive me someday. Godspeed, Captain Nemo."

The video ended. Shackleton ejected the disk, returned it to its case, and placed it in the top desk drawer of the captain's desk; the top desk drawer of her desk.