Voyage to Far N'Jurd
Public Domain
Chapter VII
John, the second mate, awoke early the morning of the Festival.
“Helen, honey,” he said. “Wake up.”
She murmured sleepily.
“Come on, now, wake up.”
She rolled over to her side of the bed.
“All right,” he said. He reached out, fumbled for and found his cigarettes.
“You know what I’m going to do to the captain?” he asked. He lit a cigarette and lying on his back blew smoke rings at the ceiling.
“Yes,” his wife said, “you told me.”
“First, I’m going to take that saber I got on Queglat and scrape open his scrofula. Then, when he’s bleeding nicely, all I have to do is pour a bottle of alcohol on him. Don’t you think that will be nice?”
“Yes, dear.”
“You know, I’m kinda sorry I went to all the trouble sharpening that saber. After all, it might be more painful if the saber was dull.”
“Yes, dear.”
“But then, on the other hand...”
“Dear, will you hand me a cigarette?”
“Sure.”
He shook out a cigarette, lit it off his and handed it to her.
“So what do you think?”
“It doesn’t matter, dear,” she said.
“Oh, but it does matter,” John insisted. “I think it’s very important.” He snubbed out his cigarette. “It’s all the little details that one should take into account. Can’t be too careful about something like that.”
He rolled over on his back again. “I’m hungry,” he said.
“I really thought they should have served breakfast,” Helen said.
“Well, it wouldn’t be right to leave all those dirty dishes for the second crew.”
“I mean just sandwiches.”
“Yes,” he said, “they could have made up some sandwiches. I think, though, I’d settle for a cup of tea.”
“I could brew you some on the hot plate.”
“It’s too much bother,” John said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“No. If you’ll get up and put the water on.”
“All right,” he said.
He threw his legs over the side, fumbled with his feet for the house slippers, padded to the hot plate, put the water on, and came back to bed.
“We’ve still got an hour before the bell,” he said.
“Are you going to shave?”
“I don’t think so; not today,” he said.
“By the way, honey; what’s in that can over there?”
“Fuel oil,” she said.
“What’s it for?”
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