passageway, passing the mess, and descended a steep flight of stairs. The crew members they encountered seemed to take Adam’s presence for granted. Even so, it was a nerve-racking experience for Adam. He kept expecting someone to recognize him and sound the alarm.
When they reached the lowest level, they began to walk aft down a narrow corridor that was lined with pipes and smelled of diesel fuel. They passed rooms filled with machines, which Adam guessed were the generators. A number of men were working there, stripped to their waists, their bodies glistening with sweat. The noise was deafening.
They walked until they came to a large dark room filled with painted metal dumpsters on casters that stank from the garbage they contained. Jose went in and guided Adam to the far corner, where two men were sitting on the floor playing blackjack. As Jose approached, the larger fellow glanced up and then went back to his game.
“Hit me easylike,” he said to the smaller man as Jose squatted down.
In the wall behind the player was a wide opening through which Adam could see a portion of the bustling pier. A swath of radiant sunlight, which looked heavenly in the hellish surroundings, slanted into the room.
“Hallelujah,” he muttered as he moved over to the lower door, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the tropical sun. He felt so close to land—and freedom. Never mind that he still didn’t see how he’d get there. He glanced outside at the concrete pier again and his elation vanished. To his immediate right was a passenger gangway carefully guarded by a brace of white-jacketed stewards who were carefully screening anyone leaving the ship.
“Jose, there’s no way I can walk out there without being stopped,” said Adam, trying to control his voice.
Without looking up from the card game, Jose said, “Just wait.”
Adam stood there for a few minutes, wondering what to do.
“Jose,” he said, “is this how you’re getting me off the ship?” He nodded toward the gangway.
“Nope,” said Jose, “the best is yet to come.”
“What are you planning?” said Adam angrily.
Jose didn’t answer. Going back to the opening, Adam stared longingly at the green hills rising gently from the harbor.
They were dotted with small cottages. He was about to question Jose again when a line of yellow garbage trucks started down the pier, belching diesel smoke from vertical exhaust pipes. They came to a halt not far from the ship’s side, one behind the other. Then there was a fearful blast of an air horn.
The cardplayers cursed, threw down their cards, and went over to the nearest dumpster. With the big fellow pushing and the other two pulling, they rolled it down the ramp and up to the lead truck. While the men returned for another dumpster, the truck went to work. Large hydraulic arms came forward and grabbed the dumpster, lifting it high over the truck’s cab and dumping the contents in back. It was all done very neatly because the dumpster had a metal lid that did not open until the last moment. By the time the dumpster was slammed back onto the concrete, Jose and the others had the next one out on the quay. After a few more loads had been swallowed by the truck, Jose shouted to Adam, “OK, come over here.”
Adam followed him to the next dumpster in line.
“You’re going out with the trash,” said Jose. The three men began to laugh.
“You want me to get into that?” asked Adam with horror.
“You’ve no time to argue,” said Jose. “This is the last load for the first truck.”
“Is this the only way off the ship?” asked Adam.
“The only way,” said the huskier cardplayer. “I did it myself once. Not the fanciest way to ride around town, but it ain’t crowded.”
“Where will it take me?” asked Adam, considering what he should do if he went through with their plan.
“Right out to a landfill near the airport.”
“Jesus,” said Adam. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to send me out with the garbage.”
“This ain’t garbage,” said the cardplayer. “We dump that into the ocean. This is trash.”
The truck’s air horn impatiently sounded.
“You have to go,” said Jose. “You can’t hang around my cabin forever. Put your foot here.” He made a platform of his hands and, against his better judgment, Adam used it as a step. The big cardplayer lifted the dumpster’s lid, and with a swift movement Jose tossed Adam headfirst into the mess of boxes, paper, waxed containers, and other debris. And contrary to what the cardplayer had said, there was garbage, too. The lid banged down, and Adam was plunged into darkness.
He felt the dumpster roll down the ramp onto the pier. Then there was a violent jolt and Adam visualized his rise from the ground. The dumpster shook, tilted upside down, and with a flash of light Adam screamed and flew into the back of the truck. He ended up on his hands and knees, covered with trash.
Almost at once the truck began to roll. It was well away from the pier before Adam worked his head clear of the trash.
The junk cushioned his ride, and he was not disturbed by the bumpy road. But after a few minutes the tropical sun turned the truck’s metal shell into a broiling oven. Adam began to sweat, and by the time the truck got to the landfill he didn’t care what happened to him as long as he could get out.
He was dimly aware of a diesel whining beneath him as the back of the truck began to lift. A moment later he shot onto an enormous pile of trash. He got to his feet in time to see his truck lumber away.
No one had seen him leave the ship. He was safe. Looking about, he could see the tiny island airport two hundred yards to his right. To his left, the blue Caribbean stretched as far as he could see.
Dusting himself off as best he could, Adam started walking to the terminal.
The airport was a casual affair with an entrance crowded with colorfully painted taxis. As Adam started inside, he saw a group of tourists eyeing him nervously. It was clear that he could not casually buy a ticket unless he did something about his appearance. Ducking into a small store, he charged a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that cheerfully proclaimed:
“Come to St. Thomas.” In the crowded men’s room Adam found an empty stall and changed his shirt and pants. On the way out, he tossed Jose old clothes into the trash where they certainly belonged.
Looking about, Adam spotted the flight schedules, which were displayed on felt boards with white plastic letters.
There were two major carriers: American and Eastern. To his delight, Adam realized that he could easily make American’s nonstop flight to New York, which would leave at nine-twenty.
He got at the end of the line to buy his ticket.
The line crept forward at a snail’s pace, and Adam began to fear he would miss the plane.
“One-way ticket to New York,” he said when he finally reached the counter.
The girl glared at him as if she thought his casual dress, unshaved face, and lack of luggage a little odd, but all she said was, “How do you plan to pay?”
“Credit card,” said Adam as he pulled out his wallet, which had somehow snagged a piece of lemon peel. Embarrassed, Adam flicked it off and extracted his Visa card.
The girl looked at the card and requested some identification. Adam went back to his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license. The girl checked it, then showed it to the heavyset clerk at the next counter.
“The Visa card is for Schonberg, but the license reads Smyth,” the man said, coming over to Adam.
Beet red, Adam got out his real license plus his Arolen employment card that had his picture and handed them over. He tried to explain that a friend had entrusted him with his license.
“Would you step to the side, please?” the man said, taking Adam’s cards and disappearing through a door. Adam tried not to appear nervous as the girl continued to sell tickets to the rest of the people in line, eyeing Adam from time to time to make sure he was not about to leave.
It was nearly ten minutes before the clerk returned with an airline agent who told Adam he was Baldwin Jacob, the supervisor. He was holding Adam’s cards.
“We’ll issue you a ticket,” he said, “but the flight is full. You’ll have to go standby.”
Adam nodded. There was nothing else he could do. The clerk made out the ticket and pointedly asked Adam if he had any luggage.
“No,” said Adam. “I travel light when I’m on vacation.”
