The shock of their abrupt landing abruptly fades as they ignore their fatigue and get to work breaking down the door. Rotted wood easily crumbles away, letting the seeping, inky blackness freely pour across the glimmering sand. Where stood the door now stands a gaping maw, quivering in anticipation. In a moment the Captain moves forward and beyond, frantically whispering, “Come on you grovel-mogels, get on it, into the deep and thick of it you fools, or we’ll never win the day.”

It is a whisper, but her movements are sure, a confident stride forward and then the Captain has disappeared into the ink and thick of it. She is gone and lost and they can only follow. One by one the tiny crew steels themselves for forward and one by one they step into that awful darkness. The 2 little girls go last, hand in hand and with beating hearts.