Silence stretched for a long minute or three as the others thought about what she’d said. The Caribs, of course, were mostly confused and more than a little uneasy at seeing the violence break out between those who were supposed to be allies, with whom they were sharing this boat.

They probably couldn’t wait to reach Barbados, divest themselves of these strange people, and return to their simple and relatively peaceful lives.

Jie intently studied the men, not moving from Mei’s side in the slightest. Her eyes didn’t seem to blink, and the others undoubtedly found the stare unnerving. It said quite clearly that she did not trust them. Be warned.

When no one else seemed inclined to talk, Mei continued. She’d changed tact and now tried to turn their fight into a conversation. They hadn’t thrown her overboard yet. Maybe there was still a way that she could turn things around. “Why are you so angry at me?” she asked.

“Beyond the fact that you killed the marines sent for us and got us in a huge pile of trouble?” Lance asked in a snarky tone.

“Yes!” She half-tossed one hand in exasperation, the other still on Jie. “Everything was fine, and then I told you I hadn’t committed a crime to get here, and then you shut me out.”

“Maybe it’s because you think you’re better than us.”

She studied the resentment and defensiveness on his face and saw it in the others, too. “I’ve seen how the guards treat prisoners, and I can imagine you’ve experienced that,” she allowed. “They treat us as lesser beings. Think they can do whatever they want to us because we aren’t worth their respect. They proved that with their actions. I can imagine that friends and family who you thought cared about you might have turned their backs on you once you got arrested, and it looked like you were guilty enough to end up in prison.” She leaned forward slightly and gave them a challenging stare. “But did I do any of that to you? Have I ever treated you like you’re inferior? Did I speak down to you? Did I act snobbish? Belittle you? Did I try to make you feel bad about who you are?”

“You didn’t have to!” Lance slammed back, anger emerging once more like an open wound had been prodded with hot metal.

She kept her voice even, feeling more controlled this time around and not instinctively reacting to his emotions with her own. “Why? I haven’t done anything to wrong you. Am I really the bad guy here? Or is the real problem with how you see yourself?”

Juan looked up from the deck and met her gaze unflinchingly. “You don’t see yourself as a criminal, but you sure see us as criminals, don’t you?”

Her brows rose. “Did you do something that hurt other people? That was bad enough that society sought to punish you for it?”

“You’re in here, same as us. So you’re just as much a criminal as we are,” the Spaniard insisted.

She shook her head. “You’re twisting the issue.”

“I am not. You’re in here, so you’re a criminal too!”

“I wasn’t put here for doing anything immoral. I haven’t hurt anyone. How about you?”

Lance broke in, voice harsh. “Stop trying to evade the issue! Just admit you’re a criminal!”

She spoke calmly. “I’m not, though.”

Yet he acted like she’d condemned herself. “You see? You think you’re better than us.”

She sat back and composed her thoughts. “I think there’s more than one thing going on here. You seem to want to label me the same way that society has labelled you. And maybe that’s how you’ve labelled yourselves. But at the root of it, I don’t think it’s a matter of labels. It’s a matter of who we are and what we’ve done. Regardless of my being in prison right now, I have never made a habit of going around hurting people. I don’t steal; I don’t lie; I don’t murder. I treat people well, and I hope for the same in return. I make mistakes now and then, the same as anyone. But I’m pretty confident in who I am: a good person.”

“How can you even say that?” Lance scoffed. “How many people have you killed since coming here? Dozens?”

“I am not taking lives for my amusement or any sense of greed. The first life I took was in self-defence when a guard tried to rape me on the very first night I arrived, after a day of abuse and heat stroked half out of my mind. I ended the lives of those on the ship because they were willfully part of a system that is immoral and evil. It hurts others unjustly, and it was doing me unjust harm as well. Those marines that came after me? Also self-defence. If I take the lives of more people in the future, I do so only in self-defence and justice. And I have absolutely no desire to cause more pain than necessary. I do not want to be cruel.”

“Fine distinctions,” Lance mocked. “Self-serving, too.”

Juan snarled. “You almost murdered Putin back in camp, just walked up behind him and cut him down. How does that make you any different from any of us?”

“Again, that was justice. And self-preservation.”

“Was it? Or was it revenge? Isn’t killing immoral?” he accused.

She frowned. “Certain actions can be right in some situations and wrong in others. It’s about motive and context.”

“Oh my gosh,” Lance huffed, rolling his eyes. “Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound? Who says you’re qualified to judge someone like that?”

“I’m not perfect,” she readily admitted, “but I’m pretty confident that I can tell right from wrong, good from evil, in most cases.” She pointed at Putin. “I don’t think there’s much question regarding someone guilty of mass murder and rape and torture, all for the thrill. Unless you think otherwise?” she challenged him.

He didn’t answer.

“I was sent here,” she told them, “because bad people were trying to stop me from putting an end to their corruption and greed. I know my situation, and I know that whatever label a corrupt legal system forced on me for their own ends, I am not, at heart, a criminal. I’m not someone who goes around habitually doing bad things for personal gain. I see myself as a good person, and I believe that my values and the actions I’ve taken over the years, and even within here, back that up.”

None seemed willing to argue the point.

“Now, I admit,” she continued, “before coming here, I assumed that all people in prison are bad people. Most of us probably feel that way. Honestly, I still think most people in here probably are bad people. But I’m willing to be open-minded and admit that being in here doesn’t always equate to someone being a bad person, or at least all bad. I’m proof enough of that. So I should be willing to consider the same for others. Including all of you.”

“And what if we’ve done something horrible?” Armand asked, speaking up quietly, a faint touch of hesitation in his words. “What if we have hurt others? That makes us bad people to you then, doesn’t it?”

“Well, I guess there’s room to think about it. Maybe every case is a little different.”

“How so?”

“We have a legal system with judges for a reason. Every case is unique and judged on its own. So we should do the same with each other, shouldn’t we? It might be easier to make blanket rules and say that anyone who has done X is a bad person. But we need context to make judgement calls. We are all complicated beings. One facet of our existence alone does not necessarily define the entirety of us.”

“So one bad action or having one unpopular opinion doesn’t necessarily define a person entirely. Nor who they could be in the future.” Armand said this as a statement but spoke with a little hope in his tone. “We should step back and look at someone as a whole instead of judging the entirety of them for only one action, one mistake, or one belief that we disagree with.”

“Do you think people can change?” Cheeto asked. “That they can be redeemed? Become a good person? Even if they’ve done a bunch of bad stuff before?”

“Isn’t that the whole point behind rehabilitation?” Mei pointed out.

Lance was sour. “Most people who go to prison end up back in it.”

She shrugged, not disagreeing. “Probably an indication that most people who end up in prison do it because they’re the type who habitually do hurtful things—they are bad people. Most legal systems probably put away more genuinely bad people than good. But it’s also a fact that some criminals are people that society failed to raise properly in the first place. Or maybe they were pushed to a breaking point and made a decision they normally wouldn’t.”

Juan was skeptical, but there was a hesitancy in his manner as well. “Many would argue that a violent or evil misdeed is proof of one’s true nature and that they cannot be changed.”

She smiled at him. “I hope they can change. Isn’t that something we can choose for ourselves? The human brain is exceptionally adaptive, isn’t it? We’re amazing learning machines. Certain decisions are harder than others, and some things about ourselves or about life are harder to overcome than others. And not everyone has the same tools or the same environment in which to do their best. I get it; life can be harder for some of us. So change will take more work for some people than others.” She paused to think, then went on. “I think some people are born irredeemably selfish; their brains are wired that way. But most of us are mixed, aren’t we? Capable of being a better person if we keep working at it? If we don’t give up on ourselves or on others?”

Cheeto chuckled. “I don’t think Putin wants to be anything other than what he is. Gangsta for life, yo.”

She smiled at him too, glad to see that someone’s humour had returned. “I agree. But how about you?” She turned her gaze on all of them. “How do you all see yourselves? Are you good people or bad people?” They had complained that she looked down on them. But she suspected the true heart of the issue was that her presence and self-image made them feel bad about the person they saw reflected in the mirror, someone they didn’t necessarily like.

Seemingly thoughtful, a sullenness came over Juan. “I don’t deserve to be a good person anymore.”

“She focused her attention on him. “Did you do something you believe is wrong?”

“Maybe.” He wouldn’t look at her or anyone.

“And so you think that decision forever defines you?”

He frowned. “Of course. How could I not be?”

She spread her hands. “I suppose it depends on the action. If you cold-bloodedly killed a rival to get them out of your way, then yes, you’re probably evil. Even if it’s the only immoral thing you’d ever done in your life and you normally acted like a good person, you willfully and with forethought put yourself before everyone else. You were consciously willing to do the worst possible things to get what you wanted for yourself. And you’d probably do it again. But what if you weren’t being cold-blooded about it?”

His jaw worked. “So motivation matters?”

“That’s a good question. Is there a difference between accidentally killing someone out of negligence and killing in an explosion of anger?”

“Is there?” He appeared reluctantly confused.

“You’ll get fifty years for premeditated murder and ten years for causing a death out of negligence. So we, as a society, seem to recognize that not every situation is the same and that some results are a little more forgivable than others. Some people need to be removed from society forever, but some people might be capable of making up for their mistakes and doing better in the future.”

“How do you know who someone really is, though?” He was schooling his face not to show emotion, but it leaked out of his body language. The man was heavily conflicted and emotional about his past. Yet some part of him still dared hope that he wasn’t the monster he’d tried to convince himself he was. And Mei’s words were teasing that hope out of him. The mix of desire and resentment on his face made Mei wonder which side of him would win out.

She spoke kindly. “That’s the question, isn’t it? We never really know who anyone is until after the fact. Even someone acting nobly for many years can unexpectedly take a moral stumble and do something horrible one day. Maybe they finally gave into greed during a moment of weakness or duress, or maybe they acted out of emotional instability, I don’t know. But humans are not perfect. I think we all understand that. And even good people screw up sometimes, right?”

Armand, looking alive and engaged with the philosophical nature of the discussion, added to it. “We, as a society, decide that some crimes are more serious than others, and we’re willing to let offenders re-enter society most of the time to get another chance at life and at how they treat other people. The justice system gives people second chances.”

Mei dared to hope that she might get more of their backgrounds from them, something they’d been silent on so far. She turned her tone innocent. “None of you are here for life, are you?”

“I am,” Cheeto answered, surprising her.

“Really?” But he was only a child!

“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Is this a gang thing?” she gently probed.

He shrugged again.

She’d investigated gangs before and had an inkling. “Did someone convince you to take the blame for someone else?”

He looked away.

“Oh hell,” Lance muttered, understanding.

Juan rounded on his little amigo, looking exasperated. “Cheeto, why would you do that?”

The attention and insight put the Mexican back on the defensive. He crossed his arms and drew inwards. “I got reasons! Ok? Back off.” He suddenly sat up, raising a finger warningly. “And you ain’t sayin’ nothin’. You can’t! All right? I gots people I gotta protect!”

Armand raised his hands to wave Cheeto down. “Relax. No one is telling anyone anything.”

“So right they ain’t.” He glared at them all and half turned away.

Sensing it was time to leave him to his own, Mei diverted the topic to the others. “What about the rest of you? Anyone else in here for life?”

They all shook their heads.

“So I guess the system saw at least some potential in you for change. A second chance. So, how do you see yourselves? Are you a good person capable of making up for the past and doing better? Or a bad person forever?” she asked Juan.

He remained sullen and defensive. “I don’t know.”

Armand gave the man a sympathetic glance. “Maybe that’s a hard question for most of us to answer.”

“Maybe,” he agreed.

“If you’re this conflicted about it,” Mei pointed out, “that’s probably a good sign. I doubt people like Putin lose any sleep wondering about their own morality. I don’t think he ever hesitates to do whatever he wants, even if it’s cutting throats.”

He raised his eyes and spoke softly. “So being conflicted about it means I might still be a good person?”

“I think it means that the potential is there for you to still become one. If, in the future, you can make up for the past and do your best to not put yourself before others.”

“What defines a good person?” Armand asked the group.

When no one else answered, Mei did. “I think being a good person means being willing to make everyone else equally as important as ourselves, sometimes even making them more important than ourselves. Being willing to sacrifice for others.”

“And evil is the opposite,” Armand deduced. “It is putting oneself ahead of others so that while we gain, they lose.”

“Yes.”

Juan’s face screwed up with indecision, still torn inside. “But if we messed up and hurt people, don’t we need to be punished? It sounds like you’re saying that we can just change who we are and go on living happy lives and not care about the past.” He was starting to get riled up again.

“No. I’m not saying that,” she assured him. “But even if you did something terrible, should you just stop living? Hole yourself up in a place like this and be miserable forever? Who does that help?”

“No one,” Lance muttered.

Armand laid a hand on Juan’s shoulder. “A good person makes up for their mistakes. This is one of the defining ways one proves their character, yes? If we did bad, we should spend our time doing extra good to make up for it, especially to those we hurt. If we unbalanced the scales with evil, we must overload them with good in return.”

“Ideally,” Mei expanded, “we should probably try to unbalance the scales with good so that, over time, it outweighs whatever bad we do. Not that I’m saying we can excuse bad deeds with good ones. We can’t. Giving to charity doesn’t make up for premeditated murder. But consciously doing good things all the time means that, when we do make a mistake or slip up, at least we’ve earned the chance to earn forgiveness. Then it’s a matter of actually going about making restitution.”

“This is as I have said before, no?” Armand rested his gaze on the other male prisoners. “Redemption. I do not want to waste what time I have left in bondage, doing nothing while I am abused for the amusement of others. I did wrong, yes. But I believe I have learned my lesson, and now I want the chance to prove it. I cannot do that in a colony because the guards will not allow it. They have failed in their duties. Mei is correct: we have a chance at leading different lives, even in this world. So I want to take it.” He made a grasping motion with his hand. “I want my future to start today. Now.” He pounded his fist into his palm and looked at the other prisoners. “To waste any more time in chains, in self-pity or fear, would just be even more selfish, would it not? Would it not compound my previous crimes? If we have the chance to take a better path in life, if we truly want to make up for the past and do better for those we care about, then I say we must seize this opportunity.”

A big hand rubbing his face again, Juan sighed. “I just don’t know if I can believe that I am worthy of another chance.”

“Or that I could be a better person even if I had one,” Lance admitted, almost whispering.

Once more, silence swept over the boat, marred only by the wind and the catamaran’s twin hulls in the water.

She felt sympathetic. “I don’t know what you all have done in the past. And I don’t know who any of you are. But I will make you this promise. If we stay together and aren’t in solitary confinement this time tomorrow.” She met each of their eyes in turn. “From now and into the future, I will judge you not by what you have done but by what you do going forward and how you make up for the past. If you make mistakes, I will give you the chance to make up for them.”

Lance frowned, disbelieving. “Why would you do that?”

She spoke honestly and from the heart. “Because I promise to believe in you for as long as you give me reason to.”

Cheeto’s confusion was just as deep. “Why?”

“Because I hope others will have the same faith in me when I mess up. This is life; we’re all in it together. I promise you, starting today, I will never judge you only for your darkness. I will never identify you solely by your bad actions or by what got you sent here. I will consider the good in you. If you have done wrong, I will forgive you—if you earn it. I will respect you, even if you fail—as long as you are trying your best.”

Heads raised and spines straightened.

“I can’t promise it’ll be easy for me or that I’ll be able to get past things right away. I can’t promise that I won’t get upset or that I won’t think poorly of what you’ve done. But if you can also show me that there’s a bigger part of you that’s worth believing in and that you’re fighting for that part of who you are, then I won’t give up on you. I’ll give you every chance to be the better person you strive to be. And I hope you’ll do the same for me. Because I’m not perfect either.”

Lance looked at Armand. “You really think you can change?”

Armand looked into the past with his gaze. “I do not think I was originally a bad person, but I acted like one. I have done many bad things in my life. I walked a dark path.”

“Why?” Lance asked.

Armand shrugged. “Because it was easy? Profitable? Because people around me were doing the same? I do not know for sure. But one day, I realized the life I was living was not who I really was; it did not reflect who I wanted to be. I felt guilty. I did not like looking in the mirror and judging myself for my actions. Now, I believe that I can be better and do better.” He bowed his head at Mei. “I would like to be worthy of the faith or others.”

She bowed her head back and smiled, pleased.

Lance’s resentment mingled with a dash of shame. “I always thought that I was a good person. But…”

“What changed?” Juan asked, looking very curious.

“Someone… Someone made it so I couldn’t turn a blind eye to certain things anymore.”

“The interview,” Mei stated.

He looked up, surprised and confused. “So you know who I am?”

She laughed lightly. “No. I know your name and have heard something of your life. But that doesn’t mean I know who you are. Besides, we’re talking about who you think you are.”

“Well, you know what happened, right? Seems pretty clear that I’m kind of a bad person.” He hung his head.

Mei was aware, in general terms, of his past and the events leading to his trial. He’d been rich enough and important enough for news media to take note even in Asia. She hadn’t recognized him at first back on the island but had put his face to the name later on, keeping it to herself because he hadn’t volunteered the info on his own. “You put profits first. For you and your shareholders?”

“Yes.”

“If you got a second chance, would you do the same again?”

He hesitated, then admitted, “I don’t know.”

“What would you do with all the money you still have?” She knew he probably still had billions stashed away somewhere—everyone with that kind of money employed accountants who utilized tax-havens.

He shook his head. “I don’t know that either.”

Her brows rose. “Then you still have something to think about and decisions to make.”

Lance sighed. “Yeah.”

Armand placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Do you think you’ll be able to do that working on a farm under someone’s whip? Or pretending to sell stuff in a fake store?”

He shrugged. Then he laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “I just don’t know.”

Mei turned her head. “Juan? You seem to think you’re a bad person. Why?”

There was a long pause, but the man finally let go of something inside himself. “I hurt someone. Two people.”

“Someone you cared about?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was angry. Hurt.”

“Would you do it again?”

He balled up both hands and stared at his fists as if they were covered in blood. “I might.”

“Do you really believe that,” she teased lightly, “or do you just hate yourself too much right now to think clearly?”

He cracked a smile. “Both.”

“What would you…” she floundered for how to proceed. “Could you make up for what you did? Or are they…?”

“They’re alive. They probably never want to see me again. I don’t know if there’s anything I could do to make up for what I’ve done.”

“But you want to?”

He answered instantly. “Yes.”

“Are they people who deserve restitution?” Armand asked. “Or are they guilty of doing bad things too?”

The big man hesitated. “I’m not sure. I can’t be a judge. Not a…rational one.” He shook his head. “Not in this case.”

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” Lance asked.

“Never.”

“And you don’t want to do it again?” Mei pressed.

His head rose sharply with a frown. “Of course not!”

“Then it sounds like you made a mistake,” Armand reasoned. “But if you learned to control your pain and temper a bit more…?”

Juan looked away.

Mei wouldn’t let him escape just yet. “Let’s say that there’s nothing you can do to make up for the past with those you hurt and who hurt you. Can you find some other way of giving back? Find someone else who is worthy?”

“Like join a monastery?” he mocked. “Give my life to orphans and the needy?”

“Maybe it’s a cliché, but so what?” Armand challenged. “Or find someone else. We share this world with everyone else in it. There are good causes, good people. Find a way to give to someone else, to make a positive difference.”

“Fight for a better world?” Juan looked at Mei. “Like you?”

She laughed. “I was fighting for basic democracy. You already come from a democratic country. But surely there are other things to fight for? The world is not yet perfect, right?”

“Si. I…” One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Somethings to think about.”

“What about you, Cheeto?” Lance asked.

“Nah, we can just skip me, huh?” He waved the others away, happy to listen but not wanting to participate.

“Why’s that?” Armand asked.

“Cuz I’m never leaving this place,” he stated in no uncertain terms. “Doesn’t matter who I am or what I do.”

“Sounds like you’re giving up,” Mei gently accused.

“Por supuesto! Can’t fight for a future you never had.”

Her lips twisted as she held back a smile. “A thug life was all you ever had coming?”

He snorted but saw the humour. “If you knew where I came from, honey…”

“I think we’ve all seen enough American TV to guess, huh?” She glanced at Lance, the American in the group, and got chuckles all around. Even Lance laughed. She looked teasingly at Cheeto. “Well, that gangsta life was the other world. Today, you live in a new one. Kind of makes for a fresh start, doesn’t it?”

His head slowly nodded. “Mmm. Yeah. Maybe.”

“If this is your new home, how do you want to spend your life?”

He grinned, animated again. “On the beach! Bottle of rum in my hand and a beautiful lady in my lap. Enjoying the sunshine.”

She grinned back. “Ok.” Then she turned serious. “Are you going to find that on Barbados? In prison?”

He sobered. “No.”

“Then you have a choice. Accept the life other people will give you or fight for the life you want.”

He tilted his head and looked at her as if he was the one now explaining things to a child. “Look, you may think you know me or where I come from. But you don’t know, you know?”

“What’s that have to do with anything? Is your past somehow holding you back? Is there something about it that says you aren’t capable of a different life?”

A frown creased his brow, and a hand ran over his scalp. “I’ve been listening, and I only get about half what you’re sayin’. Ain’t no one ever had faith in me. I’m not smart. And I done plenty of bad things. This is my life. It’s who I am.”

“I don’t believe that,” she insisted. “And I don’t think you entirely do either. If you don’t believe in yourself, then maybe it would be best to start looking for reasons to.” She smiled at him. “And if you can’t find reasons in the past, then make new reasons going forward.”

He looked awkward and shifted in his seat. “You—“

Her smile brightened until it was all over her face. “I’ll believe in you, Cheeto.”

The young man blushed. “Come on…” he tried to scoff.

“I’ll believe in you!” she called out, making the others laugh at how embarrassed Cheeto was becoming. “I’ll help you. As long as you try. You don’t have to be smart or be perfect for someone to have faith in you. You just have to do your best and not give up.”

His eyes watered a bit, which he visibly tried to fight, along with his reddening face. He turned away and waved her off. “Listen to her. Mama mia over here.”

They all laughed. The mood had lifted again, and she felt closer to all of them, even a little protective now that she understood them a bit better. And she was glad to see that no one but Putin was staring daggers at her anymore.

Lance gave one final shot to his argument. From his tone of voice, it had become just that, an argument now, not a fight. “You can’t fight the system, Mei. It’s too big. Too strong. One person can’t make a difference.”

“It doesn’t have to be one person. There are five of us here. That’s a pretty good start.”

He shook his head, lips twisted in a half-smile. “If you’re looking for heroes, you’ve come to the wrong place. This is where they house all the failed villains.”

“Well, if you failed at being a villain,” she teased, “maybe that means you’d do better at being a hero, doesn’t it?”

“And what makes a hero?” Juan asked.

“Well,” she thought about it, “no matter where they came from, who they were or how tough they had it, they all have a defining moment, don’t they? A moment when they chose.”

“Chose what?” he asked.

It was Armand who answered. “To do the right thing, no matter what.”

Lance threw his head back and sighed loudly. Then he stood up and walked over to Putin. He stared at the true criminal. “So, what are we going to do with him?”

Hope bloomed in Mei’s heart. “You’re not planning on handing him over then, along with yourselves?”

“No,” he decided. “I don’t feel like sharing a cell with him.”

Mei almost jumped for joy. They’d done it! They weren’t giving up anymore. They were going to try for the ship. Unless the others… She quickly looked around.

Juan hummed in agreement. “I suppose I don’t want to go back yet either.”

“We’re probably close enough to Barbados that he’ll just respawn there,” Lance reasoned. “Caribs think we’ll make landfall tonight, right?”

“Yes,” Mei confirmed, tingling with excitement.

“He won’t respawn until tomorrow morning. And we’ll be gone by then, won’t we?”

“I sure hope so.”

“Then let’s get rid of him.” Good humour returning, Lance gave Putin a somewhat confident smile. “He’s a mobster, right? They have a thing about sleeping with the fishes, don’t they?”

“We need a plank,” Cheeto gleefully suggested. “Then we could make him walk it.”

They laughed.

Cheeto grabbed the key to the chains keeping Putin locked to the mast and freed him while leaving his arms and legs bound with wrought iron. As a team, they dragged him to the edge of the deck.

Putin’s eyes, large and filled with hate, stared right at Mei. He managed to squirm free of the gag. “I get you. No matter where you go, I kill you. Promise.”

She felt a flutter of fear and viciously suppressed it and found a bit more courage instead. “You go ahead and try. I’ll kill you first.”

They heaved him into the sea, and the weight of the chains swiftly pulled him down.

He glared up at them until the darkness swallowed him up.

Mei turned a broad smile on the others. “So. Sounds like we need to start making a plan for stealing that sloop.”

They all smiled back.

Yo ho, yo ho…