Article: Kath McNulty
It is 3:30am, Franco’s watch should have ended an hour and a half ago. We have just finished hauling the drogue back in, heavy work. We deployed it during the hours of darkness, to slow Caramor down, hoping to drift at the same speed as the icebergs, they are all around us, invisible in the thick fog. He sits on the bench, hardly able to keep his eyes open, I’m not sure he even knows his name anymore.