Chapter 22
Alf crouched in the surge of wind and waves flooding the deck. The bosun’s mate fastened a line to the hatch post and leaned into the bullying wind. Head down, Alf followed him, bracing, knees bent as a towering wave broke over the ship. He scrabbled for a foothold. As the wash subsided, he made a dash for the saloon doors. Shaking water from his eyes, he stumbled dripping into the saloon. He reached for the oak table. Edged crab-like around the perimeter. Stopped halfway, fumbled for the doorframe. Found a latch, raised his fist, hammered.
No response. He waited, nursed his knuckles. Thumped again. Still nothing. Why wasn’t it opening?
Wait. What was that? Alf’s eye caught a movement. The latch? Or the wind? Alf felt a jarring thud. Seawater swirled around his ankles. He ham
