Passage - Lois McMaster Bujold [131]
The skinned flattie’s startled eye was drawn from Dag by this; he looked down at Hawthorn in bemusement and scratched his head. “Yeah, I could see that.”
“Too many tall tales,” Berry explained, cuffing Hawthorn on the ear. “Go help Fawn.” She turned to her crew. “I want at least one of you patroller boys topside with Bo.” Both volunteered, and climbed up. “And, Bo,” Berry called after them, “this time, if Remo tells you it’s a sand bar or snag, you mind him!”
His crew herded their skinned boat boss—or former boat boss—through the back hatch; Dag ducked in after, mentally locating his medicine kit. The crowded kitchen was warm and steamy, and there he found Fawn had prepared gallons of hot tea and a huge heap of potatoes fried with onions and bacon, drenched in salt butter. A basket of apples stood ready. Warmed, if not hot, water waited for washing up. Stacks of every blanket and towel the boat carried were heating in front of the hearth. The exhausted men fell on it all with moans of gratitude. The limited supply of spare dry clothes was shared around as best as might be, with blankets making up the rest.
Hot water, soap, and Dag’s kit waited by the hearth as well. It seemed he was expected to take on the injured, which he was willing enough to do. It was mostly cuts and scrapes, which he set Hod to washing with strong soap. Whit helped bandage, with a little instruction. The flattie leader was the worst off, and Dag set him on a stool before the fire and borrowed Fawn’s hands to help clean the odd injuries on his torso.
“What in the wide green world happened to you?” Fawn asked him as she started in with rags and soap. “Did that bear claw you?”
The fellow smiled back at her the way most sane fellows did, despite his winces from her scrubbing. “Not this time, missy.”
“Why didn’t you bring back the bear, too?” demanded Hawthorn of Whit, both pausing to watch this process.
“It wasn’t a cub, Hawthorn,” Whit said impatiently. “It would’ve sunk the skiff, if it didn’t try to eat us.”
Boss-or-Captain Chicory told Hawthorn kindly, “Bears can swim fine, if they’ve a mind. It’ll get itself off that island when it gets bored.” He whispered to Fawn, “I’ve got a boy about that size at home, and his little brother to keep him in trouble in case he runs out. Which he never has yet, I admit.” He raised his voice, “No, see, how it was—ow!”
“Sorry,” said Fawn, folding a cloth to pat new blood leaks from a scrubbed scab.
“Keep on, missy, I can tell you’re doing me good. How it was, was, we’d come up shorthanded just before we reached the Grace, because three of our fellows got scared at the size of the river and run off with our skiff. So we lashed the boats together, but now I think that wasn’t such a good idea, as the rig was mighty obstinate after that. We pretty much gave up and just went with the river, figuring we’d get a chance to sort out and maybe hire on a real pilot downstream a ways.”
“Had any of you been on the river before?” asked Berry, joining the circle.
“No, not down this far. Some of my hands had worked the upper Beargrass a time or two, but boats are a new start for me. My main line is hunting—bear and wild pig mostly, though my missus keeps her garden. I’m no hand at farming. Tried it once. If things are mainly going to die on a man anyway, hunting’s a more natural trade for him, I figure.” He took a long swallow of tea, warming to his tale.
“I was sitting down by the fire last night in the trailing boat, trying to get my feet thawed and wishing I was back hunting bears on hard land, where a man can at least pick his own direction, when I heard the fellows running and yelling over my head. Then we struck that towhead, thunk! I knew right off we were getting sucked under tail-end first, because the upstream side o’ the floor tilted down like a rooftop. I bolted for the hatch, which was in the middle of the roof, but the river was already a-pouring in like a regular cataract. The only other opening was this little window in the side, which we’d mainly used for dipping up water before we