Filipe brought the Zodiac close in toward the steel hull.  Three adventurers — dirty, disheveled and nearly naked — half-lay in the bottom of the craft.  My watch, the canvas bag, and my jockey shorts were all I had saved from the island.  Don and Dutch were in no better shape.

“Dutch,” I whispered forcefully, as we got closer to the opening.  “You’ve got to get suited up and back down here as fast as you can.  With some very heavy gloves, and maybe one of those loading hooks.”  He stared back at me with uncomprehending eyes.

“Huh?” he gasped.

“The anchor,” I whispered again, harshly, “the goddamned anchor is going to be pulled up anytime now.  That first link, the one you cut, has got to go back to the bottom, or we are screwed. Any investigation will strand us for possibly months in an Alaskan port.”

Dutch’s eyes got big.  One of the Filipino seamen at the opening in the hull grabbed a hull cleat, pulling us in.  Dutch leaped across the open water and hit the deck beside him, running.

“C’mon, Don, there’s nothing we can do.  Let’s get warmed up.”

I clambered aboard, onto the slippery metal deck.  I would have fallen except a great, strong hand grabbed my right arm and pulled me up.  I stared into the large reptilian eyes of Benito.  She stood unbent, like one of those Amazon women of mythology.

“The captain wants to see you right now.”  She didn’t let go of my arm, so I carefully pried her steely fingers loose, one by one.  I stepped back.

“I can’t present myself to the captain, even though he’s not the captain, until I get into proper uniform.  I’ll get suited up immediately.”

I tried not to loosen my bladder at the very idea.  My mind was far from caring about Borman.  I turned my head to look over at the island.  It was afire.  It looked like a giant alien’s head with its hair burning.  Great billowing smoke rose, but didn’t rise very high.  The wind was still blowing hard, headed due south.  The lee cove of the island would be nothing but a billowing pit of smoke and burning cinders. I relished the thought of the super-tough Russian Commandos who had to be attempting to deal with the mess, or maybe just trying to survive it.

“Humorous?  You find this humorous?” Benito growled.

I looked back at our cruise director.  Don muffled a laugh.  Both of us were suffering from the exhilaration generated by a close brush with death.

“You,” she pointed at Don with the index finger of her right hand when she spoke.  “You, Doctor Cook, you report to the captain, as well, and then to me.  Both of you.  We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”  She twisted her great solid body, then stomped from the gangway area.  Don and I could not contain ourselves.  We began to laugh openly.

“Doctor Cook!” I intoned.  A deckhand handed us each a blanket as we settled down.  I went back to the opening.  I waved to Filipe.  He approached.  Leaning out, I explained to him our problem with Dutch coming back for the Zodiac, and the trouble with the link.  We either had the assistance of the people who really operated the ship, or we were through anyway, I realized.  Filipe reacted approvingly.

“Well, Kirk, I think you have the whole of the Enterprise involved in whatever it is we’re doing,” Don chimed in from beneath his blanket.

“Make up your mind,” I replied, “is it Kirk or Indy?”  Don didn’t answer

I showered and dressed as fast as I could.  Under the reviving hot water, I realized that our encounter with Borman might just keep everyone’s attention diverted from the work that was going on during the anchor retrieval.  Don was not yet ready when I opened his cabin door, so I stepped in.  The Basque sat in her usual place, back against the hull.  She looked at me without smiling.  I gestured toward her, but got nothing back.

“So much for gratitude,” I told myself.  I sat on the bed.  If I had smoked, it would have been a good opportunity.  Don finally came out of the bathroom and dressed quickly. No words were exchanged.  When he was ready, we went into the corridor.  We made for the bridge.

“You tell her she was going to be able to stay?” I asked over his back.  He shrugged.

“Tell her what?  We don’t really know anything yet.  Can we accomplish your ‘business ‘?  Will we even survive?  Can you make good on your promise?  Will you?”

I thought he was never going to limit his list of rhetorical questions.  I made no response to any of them. There was, after all, none which might have satisfied.

We stepped onto the bridge from the port side outer hatch.  Instead of being piped onto the bridge, or recognized in any way, we were totally ignored, like we weren’t even there.  Borman, in polished black boots, a starched white shirt with three distinct pleats down the back, and black riding trousers, stood looking out the starboard windows.  Work went on beneath, we knew.  I was relieved to see that we could not look directly downward to view that work from inside the bridge area.  Borman turned, as if executing an about-face on a parade deck.

“Well, well, well…” he sneered, his voice trailing away.

The air thickened.  Two other men on the bridge promptly exited the hatch through which we had come.  Borman walked over to stand before us.  I automatically stood at attention.

“There seems to be an island on fire over there?” he pointed behind him without looking.

I noted the huge clouds of smoke still pouring into the atmosphere.

“Why would that island be on fire?” he shrieked, backing both Don and me up a few steps.  “And why would there be a Russian helicopter flying all around?  And where is my Zodiac you took?”  His deep German accent was more pronounced when he was angry.

“We found the anchor,” Don replied, meekly.  I did not miss his use of the word “we.”

“Ya, ya, there is that,” Borman conceded, his voice dropping to a more conversational level.  “It is not my habit to leave my men in such circumstances.”

He looked away from us, as if examining the waters beyond the ship’s bow.  Botany Bay shot a quick feral smile towards me.

“We’ll be happy to share the story of our survival with you, Captain,” Don said, his voice light and silky.

“How hard it was.  How we had to…”

The captain raised one arm straight up at an angle, like in a Nazi salute.

“That is not important.  You men have my trust and confidence.  Of course, if the Russians make trouble, we will have to surrender you to them.”

I bowed my head.  The man was a real piece of work.

“Of course, my captain, of course…” Don cooed softly.  “We understand.”

He jerked on the back of my coat.  My expression was not agreeable.  I smiled at the captain instead, coldly.

“Ich verstehe,” I spouted, then saluted, using my old Marine Corps sharp hand-salute.

Borman returned the salute, involuntarily.  We backed out of the hatch we had come in, saying nothing further. The captain watched us go, as if watching two cockroaches creeping back under some kitchen appliance.

“I don’t think he likes you,” Don deadpanned.  I shook my head, but made no other effort to answer.  “But our cruise director likes you well enough.  I’m not going to her cabin.  You go and handle her.”

We sauntered to my quarters without further comment.  I followed him in. He moved over to my tightly made bunk, then reached down.

“Seems that Benito’s not the only one who likes you a bit.”  He held up a silver chain.

Attached to each end of the chain was a dolphin facing out.  I held out my hand.  He dropped the anklet into it.  I unconsciously pressed my other hand against my forehead.  I was holding Marlys’ anklet.  Or did it double as an amulet?

“Sorta got yourself caught between Scylla and Charybdis, huh?” Don asked.  I concurred, miserably.  “Charybdis awaits; Scylla will get around to you a bit later, I’m sure,” he said, having fun at my expense before holding open the cabin door for me.

We both stopped to listen to the sound of the anchor winch.  The room reverberated as the chain’s first link was cranked home.

“You better come up with something to say to the passengers.  Just because we’ve been gone doesn’t mean we don’t have to do our standup comedy routine this afternoon.” Don proceeded up to the Lido deck while I made my way to Benito’s cabin.

I rapped three times, sharply, on her door.

“Get in here,” came blaring through the wood.  I opened the door and stepped in.  She sat on her bunk, and did not rise.  “I’m about to nap, so this’ll be quick,” she made clear.

I swallowed.  She wore a negligee, and nothing more.  The morals of the ship were beginning to permeate through to my very being, and the effect of that did not feel good. I was no prude, by any standard, prior to setting foot on the ship, but the Lindy was more like a place Caligula would find comfortable than a fallen-away Catholic like me.

“Reporting as ordered, ma’am,” I said, gazing out the porthole, instead of at the nearly naked figure of the imposing woman.

“Where’s the Zodiac?” She asked, “That’s out of my budget, and my hide, not Borman’s, so if it’s not coming back, then how do you expect to handle the cost…and don’t bother telling me that the cost will be laid off against the ship or the expedition.  Those are distinctly separate entities, not to mention you egg-headed supposed lecturers.”

I tried to make it look like I had some real concern about the small but stunningly expensive rubber and canvas craft.  Knowing the information she’d just provided went a long way to explain why the captain hadn’t seemed to care too much about his missing boat. It wasn’t his boat at all.

“It’s on the shore in the lee of the island.  We spent the night on that cold, miserable place.  Somebody forgot to mention that we were in Russian waters.  The Russians appeared to take a very serious interest in what they thought might be our interest in landing there and possibly claiming it for the U.S.A.”

I peered past where she sat and looked at what I could see out the porthole behind her, where the smoke was still visible, faintly rising up from the fire set among the pines on the island.  I turned to find her standing next to me.  I breathed in sharply.  We assessed one another.

“How hard will it be…to get the thing back?” she demanded, as I finally exhaled.

The power of her life force was something to behold.  I spoke quickly.

“Send Filipe off with a towline and a crewman.  I don’t think the Russians are going to care a fig about a Zodiac they now know belongs to a foreign expedition ship.  Their interest was in catching foreign nationals illegally occupying their country.”  I backed up, awkwardly, and headed for the cabin door.

“You want to share a glass of wine before you go?” she purred, her voice totally different.

I almost felt sorry for her.  But not sorry enough.

“Ah, no, gotta take care of some things at the infirmary,”

I dissembled, and then went out through the door, trying to make it appear that I was not running for my life. I did, in fact, go down to the infirmary to find the hatch unlocked and open. I walked in.  The doctor sat atop a stool next to the pedestal bed.

“Hey doc,” I offered, speaking loudly to his deafness, and then took the stool across from him.  He stared up at me from under his bushy eyebrows.

“You take my carvings?” he asked, without emotion.  I nodded.

“You take the morphine?” I nodded twice.

“Going to give them back?” I shook my head.  He sighed.

“What exactly do you want?”  I stared back at the aged and stooped man.

“I want you to stay out of trouble.  No more stealing from the natives, or anybody else.  When we step off this ship on U.S. soil, you can have some of the carvings back, maybe, if you can pry them out of Botany Bay’s hands.”

“The morphine is okay,” he replied, as if we were making some sort of equitable deal.

“I don’t care what you want it for.  I get it in Providenya.  No records there.  No DEA.”

 I reached over and shook his hand.  He gripped mine firmly.  Despite the man’s obvious handicaps and strange, damaged psychology, there was still something of substance to the old gentleman.

I made my way to Don’s cabin.  This time I knocked.  I was tired of naked people and bare asses.  Don hollered through the wood.

“Come in.”

I complied.  Inside, the Basque occupied her usual position. I perched on the end of her bunk.

“What, you’re not up at the bar, making a visit?” he needled.

“Afraid of that little darling thing?” he went on. I nodded, unwillingly, once.  “That was pretty quick with Mussolini.  What the hell happened in there?”

I rolled my eyes. Don took a different approach.

“She has an idea.” He pointed at the Basque.

I looked first at him, then her, then back at him.  I flexed my shoulders.

He proceeded.  “She hates the Germans.  She wants to start a sort of counter- movement.  Something to counteract the pervasive totalitarian attitude of those creeps.”

I studied him intently.

“I thought she didn’t talk,” I jabbed. But he laughed.

“She talks to me, alright…and she says she wants to start a club.  Calls it the Mickey Mouse Club.”

More laughter, then he leered at the Basque.  She produced a flag, about the size of a pillowcase.  It had two huge cross bones drawn in black paint against a white background. Overlaying the draconian symbols was a very colorful and distinctive image of Mickey Mouse.

She began to sing softly, “M…I…C…See you real soon…”

The Basque finished her rendition of the Mouseketeer song, while we waited, then went back to relaxing on her bunk like we weren’t even there.

Don plopped down on his bunk with a very pleased look on his face.   “Like we don’t have enough trouble?”

I asked him, shaking my head into the silence. “What the hell do you think Borman is going to do once he realizes that there’s some underground movement aboard, opposed to his Gestapo rule?”

Don grinned on, so I continued, “Mutiny is still mutiny out here, no matter whose waters we’re sailing.”

I could tell that I was making no headway. I got up to leave, then addressed both of them.

“Count me out of this little operation.” I made for the door, but Don’s voice stopped me.

“You’re the head Mouseketeer; you can’t be counted out, and besides, you wanted help in Russia. Now you’ve got help. Our help.” Don motioned to the beautiful young Sphinx against the bulkhead.

I left without further comment, closing the cabin door quietly behind me. I contemplated just how big my force of ‘helpers’ would be by the time we hit Provideniya, Russia, if we ever hit Provideniya

Marlys remained on my mind. I tried to think of things to do that would keep me from the bar, where I knew she would be serving, probably wearing the terribly full body wrap she had had on before. Her attire aroused me.

I headed for Dutch’s cabin. His door gaped open, even though he was in his shower. Typically, the frosty glass door did not hide all that much, and his room was half filled with steam. A German officer, in a distinctive white shirt and black trousers, suddenly filled the open doorway. I stood up, automatically, to greet him. He entered, taking his flat little barracks cap from his head. He held it under one arm, just as I had done when I was a Marine.

“Could you give the assistant cruise director a message when he comes out?” he asked, in German.

I just stared at him without moving.

“Verstehen Sie, bitte?” he then asked softly.

He looked at me knowingly, somewhat bemused.  He was asking if I understood him, although his expression seemed to indicate he already knew I did.

I recalled that I had used the phrase over the radio. I had given something of my language capability away under pressure. I was very surprised to have the words knowingly brought to my attention, however.

Wer bist du?” I responded, in German, asking him who he was.

“I’m the Third Mate, Günter,” he answered.

He extended his free right hand, and I shook it. Dry and crisp. Just enough pressure, not too much, very properly German.

“Would you please tell Herr Dutch that we will be making a short stop at The Aguiak. There will be time for a shore party to the top of the mountain if he should choose to take such a hike.”

With that, the Third Mate reached into one of his back pockets and pulled out a small folded piece of canvas. “Please see that he gets this. He will understand.”

I took the canvas and was left looking at it, as he executed an abrupt about-face, placed his cap firmly atop his head, then marched into, and up, the corridor.

The canvas turned out to be a small bag with a rope threaded through one end. It was a neat little pouch, a bit bigger than those people used to carry in the old days. The people who rolled their own cigarettes. But there was nothing in the pouch. I didn’t know what ‘The Aguiak’ was, or what the pouch was for, but the whole thing seemed decidedly odd.

Dutch came out of the shower.

I grabbed his towel from the foot of the bunk and threw it at him. He closed the door, and then dried off. I held out the pouch. He stared at it, and then back up into my eyes.

“What did he tell you?” he asked.

I knew immediately that he was guilty of something, but nothing I could think of. I wanted to ask him what an Aguiak was but refrained.

“Everything,” I answered as I leaned down, grabbed and tossed the pouch to him. “Better bring back a scalp or two in that, or there might be trouble.”

Dutch finished drying off. He put the pouch into his bureau drawer. While I sat looking at him, he dressed, not looking back at me.

“Did you monitor the anchor situation?” I asked into the silence.
Dressed, he placed himself on top of the bunk across from me.

“Yeah, Filipe was great. No Germans came down. The Filipinos handled all of it. They understand that you must have had a very good reason for cutting the chain.”

My breath left me. I stared at the man in shock.

“What…me…I…?” croaked out of me. My eyes were wide in shock.

Dutch threw out his hands.

Well, I couldn’t tell ‘em it was me! What’d you want me to say? Besides, we’re in this together.” He stopped talking.

I couldn’t believe my ears. The ‘Disco’ was steaming along, making the infamous ‘Ship of Fools’ book published in the thirties seem like a vessel of high intellect and solid judgment.

“Don’t worry,” he said, trying to calm my obviously agitated state, “Filipe told them that you’re a warrior. You’re to be honored! They all agreed.” He bubbled with enthusiasm, like the large idiot-child with a Ph.D.  he appeared to be.

 “Oh, terrific,” I breathed out in exasperation, struggling to get my head wrapped around the new, potentially disastrous revelation.