A girl with the top half of her dress torn off, fell on my neck and screamed in my face. Her breath, loaded with whisky fumes, nearly blistered my skin. I tried to shove her off, but her arms threatened to strangle me. Paula pulled her away, and boxed her ears hard. The girl went staggering into the crowd, screaming like a train whistle.
We reached the deck-rail. Spread out all over the sea and coming in all directions was an armada of small boats. The sea was alive with them.
“Hey! Vic!!”
Kerman’s voice rose above the uproar, and we saw him standing on the deck-rail, not far from us, clinging to the awning and kicking the crazy crowd away from him whenever they threatened to tear him from his hold.
“Come on, Vic!”
I pushed Paula ahead of me. We reached him after a struggle, and after Paula nearly had her dress ripped off her back.
Kerman was grinning excitedly.
“Did you have to set fire to the ship?” he bawled. “Talk about panic! What’s got into these punks? They’ll be off weeks before the tub goes down.”
“Where’s your boat?” I panted, and shoved an elderly roué out of my way as he struggled to climb over the rail. “Take it easy, pop,” I told him. “It’s too wet to swim. All the boats in the world are coming.”
“Right here,” Kerman said, pointing below him. He swung Paula up on to the rail while I struggled to keep the customers from following her. He guided her feet on to a rope ladder hanging down the ship’s side, and she descended like a veteran sailor.