a midships house that looked like a chicken coop. Probably a snapper fisherman, I thought. Even in the semi-darkness out here at the end of the pier you could tell she was dirty and sloppily kept up. She reeked of fish, and apparently she hadn’t been scrubbed down since discharging her catch. I passed a cardboard carton of rotting garbage lying on deck. She showed no lights anywhere, and I couldn’t hear anyone aboard. I made the painter fast, and stepped lightly up onto her deck.
I was just forward of the midships house. Opposite me a plank led up onto the shadowy bulk of the pier. It was intensely silent. Somewhere beyond the railroad yards a siren wailed, and it made me shiver. I started aft, feeling my way cautiously along the starboard side. Just as I came into the darker shadows of the midships house I stepped on a body. The body stirred, scattering empty beer cans that rolled along the deck, muttered a drunken curse, and went back to sleep.
I ducked down in the shadows and crouched, absolutely motionless, until the beer cans stopped their clatter. No one called out. He must be the only one aboard, unless they were all passed out. He had the watch, I thought sardonically, tossing six or eight beer cans over the side so I wouldn’t start them rolling again. I waited another minute, stepped over him, and went on aft. The crew’s quarters should be back here.
There was a companion ladder going below. I stepped softly onto it and groped my way down. I reached the bottom, and stood perfectly still, listening for the sound of breathing. There was utter silence. It was as dark as the inside of a coal mine, and the air was stale and foul with the odor of dirty clothes and old damp wood. I flicked on the cigarette lighter and looked swiftly around. The place was deserted. It was a small and dirty fo’c’sle with bunks on each side and some steel lockers against the forward bulkhead. I looked around for a light of some kind. On the forward bulkhead near the lockers was a kerosene lamp mounted in gimbals. I stepped over and lighted it. It cast a very weak yellow glow across the room.
There were eight bunks, but only five of them held mattresses. The deck was littered with cigarette butts and two or three pairs of sea-boots kicked partly out of the way under the lower bunks. Oil-skins dangled from the after bulkhead. Over most of the bunks were pin-ups clipped from girlie magazines. Two of the uppers which didn’t have mattresses were loaded with seabags and beat-up old suitcases. There was a new plastic suitcase in one of the lower bunks.
I grabbed down one of the seabags, dumped its contents on the mattress of one of the bunks, and pawed through the stuff. It was all clothing. I repacked it and searched another, with the same negative results. Next I hauled down one of the old suitcases and opened it. It held more clothing, some shaving gear, a few old magazines, some contraceptives, and a deck of cards, but no letters or photographs or identification of any kind.
The next one was no more profitable, except that it did contain a savings account passbook made out to a Raoul Sanchez. In the third I found a packet of letters in a girl’s handwriting addressed to Karl Bjornsen. I sighed wearily and replaced them all on the upper bunk. There was nothing left now except the new plastic job, and I had a hunch it would be locked. It was.
I cast about for something with which to jimmy it open. I saw nothing that would do, but then remembered I still hadn’t searched the lockers. I went over and began pulling them open. They held more foul-weather gear—shoes, stacks of magazines and paperback books, and a couple of half-empty bottles of rum. But lying in the bottom of one of them was a large screwdriver and a marlinespike.
I grabbed up the marlinespike and attached the lock on the suitcase, inserting the point and prying upward. It was tough, but after a couple of minutes it gave up and flew open. I felt a little flutter of excitement as I looked in; this one seemed more promising. Right on top, wrapped in a silk scarf, was a German Luger. Beside it was a whole deck of filthy pictures, held together by a rubber band,