Gambell Spit

Don and I ran through the corridor to the port side of the ship, where Marlys’ cabin was located. The sound of a guitar, and singing grew louder as we neared our destination. Marlys’ cabin was adjacent to the stairway that connected the bilge deck to the Lido. We soon came upon the source of the music. Strewn about the top of the staircase was a number of Germans, with instruments. They were singing away, while Borman pawed at the outside of Marlys’ closed door. I had not realized that there were so many Germans aboard, but it came to me now that there had to be. They ran all engineering, communications, and finances on the ship.

With Don behind me, I eased around the group, all of whom ignored our presence, and stepped close to First Mate Borman. I grimaced. The smell of alcohol emanating from him was overpowering. Dutch had been accurate in his assessment of the Mate’s condition. Borman manipulated some hand tool, with which he was attempting to pry open the lock.

“Come out, come out,” he repeated softly, in German.