Read Online Run Afoul by Joan Druett - Free Book Online Page B

Then, when he looked back at Forsythe, Wiki glimpsed an odd awkwardness in his expression.
    The lieutenant said in a lowered voice, “You can both berth with me until the fuss settles down.”
    Wiki stared at him, stunned. Involuntarily, he exclaimed, “What?”
    â€œGoddamnit!” Forsythe burst out, now openly embarrassed. “Don’t ask bloody questions, just come!”
    Still looking stealthily from side to side, he led the way aft, almost the whole length of the ship. Wiki followed first, and Festin, still clutching his tooth, trailed behind. No sooner were they inside Forsythe’s cabin than the Virginian hastily shut the door.
    Wiki looked around. The room was extremely cluttered, and did not smell very wonderful, either, but was more spacious than he had expected. A tier of lockers and drawers, some half open and spilling garments, was set against the side of the ship, its top lipped to hold a narrow mattress and serve as Forsythe’s bed. A sidelight above this berth cast grimy reflections of sun and water onto the opposite bulkhead, which was furnished with a sofa. There was a chart desk built between the head of the bunk and the settee, its surface marked with many rings from bottles and tumblers. Forsythe’s great rack of antlers was screwed to the wall above the desk, and his rifle hung from one of the horns.
    Forsythe was studying the room, too—with new eyes, it seemed, because he started to tidy up in a clumsy fashion, shoving drawers shut with a thump of a boot, and sweeping all the papers and books on the desk into one pile, which promptly fell apart with the next roll of the ship. It was the most bizarre demonstration of southern hospitality that Wiki had ever seen.
    â€œFestin can have the sofa,” Forsythe said. “And I’ll bullyrag that goddamned excuse for a ship’s purser into breaking out a hammock for you.”
    The cabin was certainly long enough to sling a hammock, about nine feet from the forward partition to the after bulkhead where the rack of antlers hung. Then Wiki forgot it, because the blows he had absorbed abruptly started to sting. He pulled up his left sleeve and gingerly inspected his upper arm, which was swollen even more than usual.
    Forsythe said with complete lack of sympathy, “Brown bastards like you don’t show bruises much, so no one will notice that you’ve been fighting, not if you have the brains not to point it out.” Then he looked at Festin, who was sitting on the sofa smiling at them both with his tooth in his hand and blood running down his chin, and observed on a much less optimistic note, “But he looks a right bloody mess—which is a goddamned pity, considerin’ he has to go back to work in the galley any minute.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Wiki agreed, keeping irony out of his voice.
    â€œBut someone once told me that if you shove a lost tooth back into the hole, it will grow back into place.”
    Wiki lifted his brows, thinking that he was learning a great deal in the medical line, this day. There were so many cuts and bruises starting out all over Festin’s face that it didn’t seem possible that putting back the tooth, even if successful, would be much of an improvement, though.
    However, Forsythe looked very animated. “I reckon we should try it,” he pronounced, and with no more ado he hunkered down, plucked the tooth out of Festin’s hold, spat on it to clean it, and then held the Acadian’s mouth wide open with one great hand while he wriggled the tooth back into his jaw with the other.
    Then it was done. Forsythe stood back, instructed Festin to open his mouth to expose his handiwork, and then frowned mightily. “It don’t look right,” he said.
    Wiki came over and peered. It certainly did look odd. He said, “You’ve got it in backward.”
    â€œWhat? You reckon? Goddamnit,” said Forsythe, after having another