Robert Asprin - A Phule and His Money

"Assumin' we don't capsize from the first shot, I reckon I'll do jes' that," said Hansen. "You folks better be careful with them big of guns-these here flatboats flip right over, you start to skip around on deck. A warnin' to the wise."

"We hear you," said Armstrong. "Everyone make sure you have a steady position if you need to fire. Closing on target."

The legionnaires spread out around the little boat, trying to distribute their weight equally. Most crouched down, or lay prone on the deck, to reduce the target they offered any hostile observer-and not incidentally, to lower their centers of gravity. The pilot, taking Gnat's advice, flattened himself under the tiller. And so, as the boat pulled around a bend in the waterway, Armstrong was the only one standing upright.

That was when the trouble started.

Despite their guide's claimed familiarity with the waterways, the boat rounded the bend and plowed directly into a submerged mud bank. Armstrong, standing upright near the prow, was thrown straight over the mud bank into water deep enough for him to go completely under.

Most of the others went overboard, too, landing in the shallow water that hid the bank-perhaps a half meter below the surface. That was enough to break their falls, although Tusk-anini landed hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Even the few who managed to remain on deck got a good shaking up. By sheer luck, none of them accidentally fired their weapons. Considering the firepower they were carrying, that kept the accident from turning into a disaster. Even the stun ray, if it had hit someone in deep water, could have been lethal.

Armstrong's head appeared above the water, and he looked around in all directions before swimming back toward the bank, where the legionnaires were beginning to find their feet. "What happened?" he said, as he reached wading depth.

"Hit a bar," said Hansen, who had rushed to the prow and was looking over the side to see what damage his boat had sustained. He glowered at Armstrong and said, "You'd 'a let me stand up, I'd 'a seen the bastard. Damn near kilt my boat."

"Killed your boat? You damn near killed my squad!" bellowed Armstrong. He pulled himself upright-no easy feat in the slippery mud-and said, "OK, everybody, back on board."

"Not so fast," said Hansen, raising a hand. "We done sprung a leak here. I don't know if she can carry the weight."

"Well, we can't stay out here in the middle of the water," said Armstrong. "Can you at least get us to shore?" He pointed toward the trading post, about a kilometer away. A small group of locals had come to the bank to gawk at the boat and the floundering legionnaires.

"She's shippin' water pretty fast," said Hansen. "I take you all, she's like to sink 'fore we get there. I could maybe take a couple of you, and send the boys on shore back for the rest. They got a couple canoes along there. Or you could all hang on to the gunwale to lower the weight. You'd get wet, but you'd get to shore a bit faster."

No sooner had he said this than there was a series of three loud splashes along the bank nearest the boat.

"What was that?" said Super-Gnat, one of the few still on deck. She swivelled her head around to look, but there was nothing to be seen but a series of expanding rings on the surface of the bayou.

"Nutria," said Hansen, ominously. "They're thick around here. Maybe you better all grab the gunwale, after all. Don't want to mess with nutria."

"Hurry it up," said Armstrong. "Put your weapons in the boat, so they don't get any wetter."

"Hey, I don't know if she can take that extra weight," said Hansen. "I can only carry the guns if all of you hop off in the water."

"I'm not getting in the water with nutria," said Super-Gnat. "I don't weigh very much, anyhow."

Hansen nodded. "OK, little lady, why don't you stay on board and keep an eye out for the nutria, and the rest can put the guns on deck and just hang on. I'll get you there, all right." Luckily for him, Gnat was too preoccupied with the nutria to react to being called a little lady.

Do-Wop and Moustache took the weapons from the legionnaires in the water and piled them on the foredeck before grudgingly jumping over the side. Then Hansen gunned the engine-gently, so as not to open the leak any wider-and the boat limped over to the shore, where the crowd of onlookers had grown to half a dozen. There was no further sign of nutria.

At last the bayou grew shallow enough for the hangers-on to touch bottom, and they simply let go and began wading ashore alongside the boat.

Hansen pointed forward and said to Super-Gnat, "Grab that line and throw it to the boys on shore so's they can tie us up."

Super-Gnat put down her shotgun and turned to pick up the rope. When she turned around again, Hansen was pointing it toward her. "Now, young lady, don't get no ideas. I'm the only one with a gun now. I'd hate to use it on somebody so pretty."

You tricked us!" she said. "I bet you ran into that bar on purpose."

"No, ma'am, that was a mistake. But I ain't got as far in life as I have not takin' advantage of mistakes. Now, put them hands up, if you don't mind." The other spectators had begun swarming, on board and picking up the rest of the abandoned weapons.

Armstrong stopped and stared at him. "You're turning us over to the rebels!" he said, accusingly.

"Not exactly, mister," said Hansen. "I am a rebel. And I'm takin' you all to Le Duc Taep, so's he can decide what's what. You'll get your guns back the minute he says so. Till then, we ain't takin' no chances."

At that very moment, a large rodentlike creature came waddling down the bank from the woods to the water, about ten yards away from the group. "What the hell is that thing?" said Do-Wop.

"Aww, that's a nutria," said a bystander, who was now cradling a Zenobian stun ray. "Good eatin'. Don't mind him, they wouldn't harm a fly."

Super-Gnat turned accusingly to Hansen. "You lied about the nutria!"

Hansen grinned self-consciously. "Yeah, that, too," he said.

The dripping hostages were handcuffed, then marched along a narrow trail to the rebel base. Their captors kept them moving, but did not force the pace, and it was not much more than half an hour before the tents of Le Duc Taep's encampment came into view.

A guard hailed them as they came into view. "Who you got here, Hansen?"

"Bunch of soldiers came lookin' for the camp," said Hansen. "Don't know what their business is, but I ain't lettin' 'em come walkin' up with guns. Might somebody get hurt."

"You're going to get hurt if I ever get my hands on you," said Super-Gnat, glaring at Hansen.

"Them uniforms look like the ones that captain wears, the one Taep's been talking with all week," said the guard. "If they're his folks, he might not like 'em being cuffed."

"Well, if they're somebody's friends, they shouldn't come around wavin' artillery at people," said Hansen. "Taep can decide-that's his job, right? Come along, folks." And he waved them toward the command tent.

A young woman wearing a red bandanna over her thick, dark hair stood up at their approach. She was carrying an old hunting rifle. "Hello, Hansen," she said. "Taep's in a business meeting. You'll have to wait."

"In a business meeting?" said Hansen. "What the hell, Pilar, that ain't the way things used to be around here. Is Taep puttin' on airs in his old age?"

"He's getting smart in his old age," said a new voice. The newcomer wore the rebel uniform. The man who walked out of the tent right behind him wore Legion black.

"Taep!" said Hansen. "I didn't mean no offense."

"Captain!" said Armstrong, almost in the same breath. "Tell this man to-set us free."

"Do you know these people?" Taep raised an eyebrow and turned to Phule.

"I certainly do," said Phule. "Assuming they haven't done anything more serious than trying to find me, I hope you will set them free."