Catspaugh slowly awoke to more noise and a flood of voices coming from the deck outside his cabin. Years on the rivers and these boats had tuned him to the sounds of the vessel underway. The Hansell was barely working he thought. What had happened? What had gone wrong? He couldn't make out what was being said and he was still too dazed and groggy to climb from his bunk. He heard the voice of mate and the tone told him all was not well. He tried to listen and identify the others, but it was still too much. Whatever the Doc had given him was still at work, but he knew he must overcome it. He thought of the whiskey and wondered if it was still there...probably not. Vague recollections came back about a fight, a fuse? What was that? He slowly sat up and methodically poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. Maybe it would help dillute the poisons in his blood and he'd be able to regain strength more quickly. He sat slumped over on the edge of the bed and tried to relax and muster his thoughts. Breathing slowly and deeply, he sat otherwise quite still. "One last run," he whispered softly to himself. "One last run."

Spaw