“I wish to hell I’d stayed in the Merchant Marine.”
“It’s tough all over.”
“Yeah.”
“We better see what Evans wants. He’ll probably want to hose down the decks.”
“Yeah.”
As they turned to go, Bervick reached in his pocket and brought out a bundle which he tossed quickly overboard.
“What was that?” asked Martin curiously.
“Some old rags.”
“Oh.” They went below.
The bow of the ship cut more and more swiftly through the harbor and toward the nets. The gulls wheeled higher and higher in the sky, and on the crest of one wave floated a pink piece of cloth, decorated with the words To My Sweetheart ... and a map of Alaska.