thrust.
The next day not a single vessel plied upstream; on the next another bunch appeared, and the day after that only a trickle.
“The faint-hearts,” said Larghos the Bosun with large contempt.
I did not say: “Have you met a Shank yet, Larghos?” for that would have been insulting and cruel. But the thought persisted.
Other riverine craft sailed downstream and we generally kept a nice convoy distance between vessels for safety’s sake. Looking ahead as I came on deck for a breath of air, having been soundly thrashed by Nath the Bollard with one of his favorite Jikalla tricks, I saw a vessel ahead closer than I liked. I mentioned this to the helmsman, Chang-So, and he snarled out: “They’re luffing and hauling like a pack of famblys.”
Nath and Larghos joined me on deck and we watched the movements of the vessel ahead.
“Ah!” said Nath. “There’s the reason!”
A dark bundle flipped up from the deck, turned over in the air, and came down splash into the river.
Immediately the vessel picked up speed, spreading more canvas, and glided along to resume a safer distance. I craned overside to see what had been thrown overboard. A man was thrashing about in the water, going under and then rising in a spouting bubble. I threw off my tunic and dived in.
There was no need to knock him unconscious. I got a grip on him, said: “Hold still, dom,” and then as he instantly lay limply, swam back to
Garrus
. They’d swung the yard to back the course and there was no difficulty seizing the line and looping a bight around this young fellow. He went up streaming water, his red Lohvian hair plastered to his skull. I followed and shook myself like a dog. The radiance of the Suns would soon dry us off.
When he’d recovered, with a tot inside him, Nath the Bollard asked the obvious questions.
“Lahal, all,” the young lad said. He was young, at that, with a glint of fuzz on cheeks and chin. “My name is — Nath the Ready.”
Instantly I disbelieved that. There are very very many Naths on Kregen and the name is so often used when it does not belong to the giver of the name that it’s almost a totally useless pseudonym.
“Why’d they chuck you overboard?” demanded Larghos.
“They said I was unlucky.”
“Oho! Then perhaps we’d better return you to the river!”
The lad flinched back, and then I saw in his face and eyes a defiant flash of anger, as though he was sick of being pushed around.
“Hold hard,” I said. “Just why are you unlucky, dom?”
“Oh, I threw the slops against the wind—”
“Ha!” burst out Nath the Bollard. “A menace!”
“Chuck him over again,” counseled the helmsman, Chang-So.
I caught the lad’s eye and tried to give him an encouraging smile. What kind of expression I’d put on I wasn’t sure; he gave me a hard stare but there was no more flinching back.
Nath the Bollard decided to keep this Nath the Ready aboard. As he said: “When we reach Hinjanchung around the next but one bend we will put ashore. That lot ahead will be there, too. We can ask them then.”
For a moment I fancied the lad was going to speak out with the truth against certain discovery; he remained silent. I guessed he was hoping to slip ashore and make his escape. He wore a simple yellow tunic girt by a narrow belt from which hung an empty dagger scabbard and a scrip. His legs were bare. He wore a red breechclout which predisposed me in his favor.
As to his face, clearly it was as yet unformed by adult problems. There was a clarity in his skin, a breadth to his forehead most pleasing. Yet, at the same time there was a rebellious set to his jaw, a recklessness in his bearing. I fancied his history, short though it must necessarily be, would prove of interest.
In the event we went ashore in Hinjanchung. Nath the Bollard had Larghos the Bosun confine the lad to his locked cabin. When we’d found the crew of the vessel from which the lad had been thrown — in a sleazy tavern of dubious
The next day not a single vessel plied upstream; on the next another bunch appeared, and the day after that only a trickle.
“The faint-hearts,” said Larghos the Bosun with large contempt.
I did not say: “Have you met a Shank yet, Larghos?” for that would have been insulting and cruel. But the thought persisted.
Other riverine craft sailed downstream and we generally kept a nice convoy distance between vessels for safety’s sake. Looking ahead as I came on deck for a breath of air, having been soundly thrashed by Nath the Bollard with one of his favorite Jikalla tricks, I saw a vessel ahead closer than I liked. I mentioned this to the helmsman, Chang-So, and he snarled out: “They’re luffing and hauling like a pack of famblys.”
Nath and Larghos joined me on deck and we watched the movements of the vessel ahead.
“Ah!” said Nath. “There’s the reason!”
A dark bundle flipped up from the deck, turned over in the air, and came down splash into the river.
Immediately the vessel picked up speed, spreading more canvas, and glided along to resume a safer distance. I craned overside to see what had been thrown overboard. A man was thrashing about in the water, going under and then rising in a spouting bubble. I threw off my tunic and dived in.
There was no need to knock him unconscious. I got a grip on him, said: “Hold still, dom,” and then as he instantly lay limply, swam back to
Garrus
. They’d swung the yard to back the course and there was no difficulty seizing the line and looping a bight around this young fellow. He went up streaming water, his red Lohvian hair plastered to his skull. I followed and shook myself like a dog. The radiance of the Suns would soon dry us off.
When he’d recovered, with a tot inside him, Nath the Bollard asked the obvious questions.
“Lahal, all,” the young lad said. He was young, at that, with a glint of fuzz on cheeks and chin. “My name is — Nath the Ready.”
Instantly I disbelieved that. There are very very many Naths on Kregen and the name is so often used when it does not belong to the giver of the name that it’s almost a totally useless pseudonym.
“Why’d they chuck you overboard?” demanded Larghos.
“They said I was unlucky.”
“Oho! Then perhaps we’d better return you to the river!”
The lad flinched back, and then I saw in his face and eyes a defiant flash of anger, as though he was sick of being pushed around.
“Hold hard,” I said. “Just why are you unlucky, dom?”
“Oh, I threw the slops against the wind—”
“Ha!” burst out Nath the Bollard. “A menace!”
“Chuck him over again,” counseled the helmsman, Chang-So.
I caught the lad’s eye and tried to give him an encouraging smile. What kind of expression I’d put on I wasn’t sure; he gave me a hard stare but there was no more flinching back.
Nath the Bollard decided to keep this Nath the Ready aboard. As he said: “When we reach Hinjanchung around the next but one bend we will put ashore. That lot ahead will be there, too. We can ask them then.”
For a moment I fancied the lad was going to speak out with the truth against certain discovery; he remained silent. I guessed he was hoping to slip ashore and make his escape. He wore a simple yellow tunic girt by a narrow belt from which hung an empty dagger scabbard and a scrip. His legs were bare. He wore a red breechclout which predisposed me in his favor.
As to his face, clearly it was as yet unformed by adult problems. There was a clarity in his skin, a breadth to his forehead most pleasing. Yet, at the same time there was a rebellious set to his jaw, a recklessness in his bearing. I fancied his history, short though it must necessarily be, would prove of interest.
In the event we went ashore in Hinjanchung. Nath the Bollard had Larghos the Bosun confine the lad to his locked cabin. When we’d found the crew of the vessel from which the lad had been thrown — in a sleazy tavern of dubious
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