THE STORY SO FAR
Beautiful actress Gay Gibson, 21, was enjoying life onboard the luxury liner whisking her from South Africa to England. But en-route, Gay vanished. And soon, a young deck steward was accused of her murder. But was James Camb guilty of nothing more than desire?
THE CASE
Staring across the water, Gay Gibson, 21, dreamt of her dazzling future.
It was 18 October, 1947, and Gay – born as Eileen in England – was finally returning home after spending years in Cape Town, South Africa, where she’d made her name as stage actress Gay Gibson. Now, she was determined to conquer London’s West End, to see her name in lights!
Perhaps Gay was running away from her past as well. For she’d told a friend she was pregnant. And rumours had it a sleazy club owner had paid for her ticket…
As the ocean liner Durban Castle set sail, she’d already gained one new fan onboard. Deck steward James Camb, 31, was transfixed. But then, that wasn’t a big surprise. Although he was married and had a toddler back in Glasgow, James was a handsome lothario. His black hair slicked back, he often boasted that he had an affair on every voyage – always with the most beautiful women on board…
‘You’re jealous of me,’ he’d tease his workmates.
And now, could Gay be his next conquest? Camb immediately started trying to chat up the starlet. Even a telling-off from his senior officer didn’t stop him! Gay looked so alluring in her elegant, black evening dress as she danced with the other guests after dinner. ‘I have half a mind to take a drink to her cabin after dinner,’ Camb murmured to his fellow stewards.
After the dance, at 1am, the night watchman saw Gay leaning against the ship’s railings, still in her dress, elegantly smoking a cigarette. ‘It’s too hot down below,’ she’d sighed, gazing at the waves. But the next morning, Gay didn’t arrive for breakfast – or lunch. Worried, the crew searched the ship, and her first-class cabin. She’d vanished! Had the starlet fallen into the ocean?
The captain, Arthur Patey, turned the liner around, and they desperately searched the shark-infested waves. Nothing. But now, a steward, Frederick Steer, went to the captain… Told him that, at 3am, two alarm lights had started flashing in his office. They indicated that someone in cabin 126 was repeatedly pushing the buttons to summon a steward and a stewardess.
It was Gay’s cabin… So Steer had gone straight there. But when the door opened a crack, it was Camb who’d peered outside. ‘It’s alright,’ he’d said and, satisfied that Gay’s summons had been answered, Steer had left. Perhaps he’d rolled his eyes, too, suspecting Camb was having another saucy fling. But, now, he was worried…
Captain Patey immediately summoned Camb. At first, he angrily denied being in Gay’s cabin. Then he cracked. Admitted that Gay had invited him to her cabin after the dance. So at 2am, he’d taken a drink to her cabin and she’d opened the door, wearing her nightgown and no underwear beneath. ‘I climbed onto the bed beside her,’ he said. Then, they’d made passionate love. But, suddenly, she’d gone into a seizure. He’d leapt up, horrified, seeing her eyes half-closed, froth foaming at her mouth.
‘I tried artificial respiration on her – while doing this, Steer knocked at the door. I panicked. I didn’t want to be found in such a compromising position,’ he recalled. So he’d sent Steer away and returned to Gay… ‘I could not find any sign of life,’ he recalled. It had petrified him. At best, he’d be fired for sleeping with a passenger. At worst, blamed for her death. What to do?
‘After a struggle, I managed to lift her to the porthole and push her through,’ he confessed.
Was it true? Had Camb’s saucy escapade become a terrible nightmare? Or had he actually forced himself upon the terrified actress, then murdered her to cover up his sick crime? For he couldn’t explain why Gay had been frantically pushing the alarm buttons in the cabin… And, now, the ship’s doctor found scratches on his neck and wrists.
Camb insisted he’d merely scratched himself, after suffering a heat rash. But Captain Patey cabled Scotland Yard. They had a possible murder case onboard.
Seal the cabin, disturb nothing, they replied.
When the liner docked at Southampton eight days on, police flooded on board. Forensics officers found Gay’s bedsheets were stained with urine, and traces of blood and saliva. Suspicious.
And Camb’s callous attitude shocked the police officers who grilled him. ‘It was a helluva splash when she hit the water,’ he said.
And so, James Camb was charged with murder. When he was tried at Winchester Crown Court in March 1948, newspapers worldwide covered the ‘Porthole Murder’ case. Camb still insisted Gay had died of a mid-romp seizure, and a medical expert agreed it was possible. Even Gay’s friends testified that she was sometimes prone to fainting fits.
As for why Camb had panicked and hurled her body overboard, then lied about what happened… ‘It was beastly conduct,’ Camb admitted. But not murder. Yet the prosecution claimed Camb had forced himself onto Gay, who’d desperately fought back, scratching his arms. Then, they believed, he’d strangled her.
For, despite the fact they’d still never found a body, a doctor confirmed that victims of strangulation often urinated in their final moments. The jury had to decide. Was Camb a cold-hearted killer? Or just a sleazy playboy who had panicked when disaster struck?
Go to page 2 to discover the jury’s verdict
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