"Joe Haldeman - Guardian" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haldeman Joe)

A Chinaman on the dock was selling fried fish and potatoes, so I sent Daniel
down to get us some, while we settled accounts by candlelight. They asked me to do the
addition and division, but I insisted we both do it, and compare results. After a couple of
puzzling discrepancies were sorted out—Doc forgot to include the $120 he paid for the
passage to Skagway—we came up with $1,833 divided three ways, with my giving the
Colemans an extra fifty dollars for passage and my share of the food and drink going
north. All told, we owed them $155, hardware being more expensive than clothing.
I gave Doc a five-dollar bill and six golden eagles. He gave three to his son and
both laughed, hefting and clinking them, thinking about gold to come. We sealed the deal
with whiskey, mine with a good portion of sugar-water and lime juice. Daniel arrived
with the fish and we had an amiable dinner party. Then the three of us repaired up the
hill, Doc and Daniel carrying sleeping bags, which elicited some drunken comments, that
I pretended not to hear, from a man sitting on the curb. Doc excused himself and fell back
to kick the man in both shins. I whispered thanks to him when he returned.
(I wasn't sure whether Daniel, with his back to us, was aware of either the insults
or the retribution. I had never given him instruction in sexual matters, and it's possible he
hadn't understood the man's innuendo.)
The landlady was reading in the parlor when we came in. She gave me a stern
look, but said nothing but "Seventy-five cents if you want breakfast." We declined,
saying we'd found a ship and would be leaving early.
I was a little nervous preparing for bed, lest Doc expect a repeat of the previous
night's intimacy, which of course I couldn't do with Daniel in the room. But both men
were asleep and snoring, exhausted, minutes after unrolling their sleeping bags. I suppose
I was both relieved and annoyed.
We did have a hearty breakfast downtown, johnnycakes with bacon and eggs,
which prompted Doc to go off in search of a couple of jugs of maple syrup. Daniel and I
went on to the ship, so that Chuck could go ashore and eat before our ten thirty departure.
Sitting on boxes, we played double solitaire and reminisced about Philadelphia and
Dodge. As if by mutual agreement, his father's name never came up.
Doc returned triumphant from his hunt with two gallon jugs of syrup and, from
the same place, several jars of various marmalades. He wouldn't take any payment for the
addition to our stores. "Finally able to feed my sweet tooth," he said.
At ten, the first mate came around with his passenger list, checking us off like the
items of cargo that we were. Then they got up a head of steam and cast off, five minutes
early, and headed out into Puget Sound.
We were blessed with fine weather, and the boat's sway was not bothersome, at
least to the human cargo. Some people had brought mules or horses, who weren't taking
well to it.
Doc didn't hide his contempt for their owners, who had paid at least half the
creatures' value for their passage. When they got to Skagway—if they survived—they
would be weak and useless for days. Better to pay more at Skagway and get an animal
that was proven and immediately useful.
 Taking horses was a mistake, anyhow, Chuck said, and his father agreed. They
cost less than mules, but it was a false economy,
given the harsh environment in the Yukon. They were relatively delicate and
stupid. In fact, two horses would die on the voyage, to be laboriously and
unceremoniously winched overboard, while the mules became accustomed to shipboard
life, placidly converting oats into a hygiene problem.
The scenery was beautiful along Puget Sound, fine woodland dominated by
Mount Rainier. I sat and drew while the men joined a penny-ante poker game. (I thought