Briggs had fallen into a sullen silence, probably irked at how easily he had been overcome by my employer. In spite of what he’d called out, he appeared incurious of his surroundings, or of his sodden clothing, but then, he was likely nursing a concussion. The boy soon returned with bowls of rice flavored with egg but with neither spoons nor chopsticks to eat them with. Barker dug his fingers into the bowl and shoved a handful into his mouth. Briggs sniffed the bowl suspiciously, decided the contents wouldn’t kill him, and began to do likewise. I followed suit. When we were done, Barker patted his pockets, then remembered his pipe lying on the floor in our offices with its stem broken. He frowned and sniffed, mentally tightening his belt. “Lad,” he said. “Leave James and me to talk. There are berths down below. Get some sleep. You’ll need it.” I wanted to hear what plan the Guv had concocted, but at the same time, I was cold and exhausted.
