The red-faced man said: “Yes, sir — but we’re expecting quite a crowd tonight — and one of the boats is out of commission...”
Kells said: “That’s all right — one boat can handle the crowd. This is important.” He grinned at Rose: “Isn’t it, Jakie?”
Rose smiled with his mouth: his eyes were very cold and far-away.
The red-faced man said: “All right, Mister Kells.” He spun the crank, and when the engine was running he put the big aluminum cover over it, cast off the lines and went to the wheel.
Kells and Rose went across the wharf and down onto the float and aboard the Joanna launch. A helper cast off the lines and the launch stood out through the narrows, down the bay.
Darkness came over the water swiftly.
They rounded the breakwater, headed toward a distant twinkling light. One of the dealers talked in a low voice to the man at the wheel; two of the waiters chattered to each other in Italian. The others were silent.
In the thirty-five or forty minutes that it took to clime up to the Joanna, the wind freshened and the launch slid up and down over the long smooth swells. The lights of the Joanna came out of the darkness through thin ribbons of fog.
Kells walked up the gangway a step behind and a little to the left of Rose. Several seamen and hangers-on stood at the rail, stared at them. They crossed the cabaret that had been built across the upper deck, went down a wide red-carpeted stairway to the principal gambling room. It ran the width and nearly the length of the ship. Dozens of green-covered tables lined the sides: Blackjack, chuck-a-luck, faro, roulette, craps. Two dealers were removing the canvas covers from one of the big roulette tables.
They turned at the bottom of the stairs and went aft to a white ath-warship bulkhead. There were three doors in the bulkhead; the middle one was ajar. They went in.