The door from the bunks led to steps up to the steerage refectory, where the long tables and benches were busy with families gossiping, arguing, gambling, playing chess, backgammon and drinking much like any village square, illuminated by large portholes on either side. The distance from the ice, the proximity of the kitchens and crush of people served to warm the area to bearable temperatures.
Rickenbacker and the others approached a large serving hatch into the kitchens as surreptitiously as possible, Hilt concealing his blade behind the bulk of Pinkerton. The hatch was secured with a barred shutter bolted closed with a padlock, so without a word, Hilt bent down and pulled the shim from his spurs. Within seconds he had popped the lock and Pinkerton slipped his fingers beneath the shutte
