Fiction | March 01, 1985

The full text of this story is not currently available online.

By the time the old captain was finished a third of us were dead or wounded, and the rest had been pushed so hard for so long that we were all nerves and suspicions, reduced to feeding our faces and hoping for one night’s uninterrupted sleep.

If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.