“I won’t argue with that,” said Crockett. “But that’s one of the joys of living on this river. You can be as honest as you like and not worry about the consequences.” He paused for an instant, then continued. “Though you make a good point about wakin’ up naked and hairless more often than not. Maybe a course of moderation is best.”
“Nothing to excess,” added Socrates.
“Amen to that,” said Bowie, and then addressed his attention to the River. The great voyage had begun.
The first few weeks passed swiftly. They made good time, stopping at several villages each day. Bronze Age civilizations dominated this section of the River, and the travelers found courteous welcomes from the numerous Chinese settlements encountered on their journey.
Whenever possible, Bowie and his men made use of the woodland grailstones for their meals. It cut down on their dependence on supplies and provided a meeting ground with the inhabitants of the region. For safety, they slept on the boat beneath dragonfish leather tents.
Socrates spent his time ashore debating philosophy with anyone willing to argue. That rarely proved to be a prob-
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lem. He usually attracted a crowd. One of the mainstays of the human condition anywhere on the River seemed to be a willingness to speculate on the meaning of life and the whys and wherefores of the great Resurrection.
Always he asked, “What is justice?” Nowhere did he find an answer that satisfied him.
Davy Crockett roamed through each new town looking for his nemesis, Santa Anna. Isaac accompanied the frontiersman, his sad eyes searching the throngs of people they met for a man only he could identify. Neither of them reported any success.
Bowie enforced only one rule: No passengers without good reason. He knew otherwise the boat would quickly fill with prostitutes and camp followers. The Texan made it quite clear to all involved that he had no objections to sex, but that it belonged on shore, not on their ship. Anyone who found the rules too restrictive could leave. No one did.
Actually, the Spartans thrived on tight discipline. Raised in a communistic state that placed duty above all else, the crew prided themselves in their mental as well as physical toughness. Lysander lost no opportunity in reminding his men of their heritage. “Remember,” he lectured them whenever someone complained about short rations or the nightly downpour. “We are not rabble. We are Spartans.”
As often as he was able, Bowie conferred with the town elders on what lay ahead on their journey. Oftentimes, the leaders of the community knew conditions five or ten villages farther on. While their voyage so far had been peaceful, Bowie knew that sooner or later they would encounter trouble. He wanted to be prepared for danger before it occurred.
Unfortunately, not everyone knew what loomed past
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the beach’s end. On the twentieth day of their voyage, they left a friendly Chinese village with no knowledge of what lay beyond the next bend in the River. Content in their own lives, the townspeople had never attempted to explore any farther than the natural boundaries of their village. Other expeditions that had passed through then-valley from locations up-River never returned.
Nervously, Bowie watched as the huge mountain walls narrowed as they came to the end of the Chinese enclave. Thorberg, aware of the uncertainty of their situation, kept the longboat at the center of the river. He hoped their position would give them a few extra seconds to prepare for any attack from either shore. The Norseman kept both hands tight on the rudder. The narrower the River became, the faster the current. Even without sails or oars, they were moving at better than fifteen knots.
“Keep alert,” Lysander warned his men, walking up and down the boat. “Remember. We are Spartans.”
They sped into the next valley, their boat riding high on the whitecapped waves. “Watch for rapids,” said Thorberg, wrestling with the steering paddle. “Shout if you see any rocks.”
Mountains crowded in on them from both sides. The cliflfs towered up so high that they seemed to meet many thousands of feet above their heads. Only a thin line of sunlight trickled down into the ravine, casting a twilight glow across the land.
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