Chasing the Nightbird by Krista Russell

Author:Krista Russell [Russell, Krista]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Holiday House
Published: 2011-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Twists

Delph dove at Lucky as he made his way down South Water Street.

“Stop fooling,” Lucky yelled up at him. “I’ve work to do.”

But the gull did not let up. She flitted up and down, darting and pecking at Lucky’s cap. Finally, he settled on a ship chandlery sign, and let out a long line of cries.

Lucky gazed up at the bird. “Have you lost your senses?”

Delph shifted from one foot to the other. Lucky shook his head and, catching his own reflection in the shop window, turned to look.

His breath caught.

There, in the middle of a display of sextants, chronometers, and compasses, sat Pa’s rigger’s knife.

He gazed at it in disbelief.

It was Pa’s knife, all right. He could see the finely etched rendering of the Nightbird, her bowsprit riding far above the surf.

That dirty dog Fortuna. He’d gone and sold the contents of Lucky’s duffle.

He stepped into the shop.

“Where’d the rigger’s knife in the window come from?” he asked the bespectacled shopkeeper.

“Just came in today,” he said.

“Was it a tall dark fella who sold it?”

“That’s the one.” The man glanced up from his ledger. “Would you like to purchase it?”

“Purchase? It’s mine!”

“Not unless you can pay. And I don’t offer credit, young man.”

“I’ll be back,” Lucky said and left the shop. A cold fury rose from his gut like Arctic dark. He’d find that no-account, thieving bootlicker and make him pay.

His fury gave him speed. In no time he was at the tavern where the mulespinners usually stopped on their way home from the mill. Sure enough, Fortuna was inside, his tiny teeth showing as he laughed at something Antone said.

Lucky pushed past the others to stand before him.

“You sold my things,” he practically spat. “You had no right!”

Fortuna appeared bored.

“I’m your guardian,” he said. “I’ve every right.”

Lucky glared at him.

“You see what I was telling you?” Fortuna said to Antone. “Hey, half-pint,” he said, grabbing Lucky by the collar. “The boys and I were just talking about the sorry behavior of the youths of this city. And your name came up.”

Lucky eyed him warily. He’d been drinking, that was sure. He could smell it on his breath and hear it in his words, which had gone all fuzzy at the edges.

He should have waited for his anger to cool before confronting Fortuna. Lucky’s gut tensed. He didn’t have anything against drinking, as a matter of course. Whaleman’s commandment #7 was “drink as much as you can hold.” The problem was, as he knew well enough from life with Pa, the Valeras couldn’t hold much. Not without getting dangerous.

“I’ve got chores to do for Mrs. Cabral,” Lucky said and tried to shake free of Fortuna’s grip.

“They’ll keep, this won’t. Let’s discuss this outside.” Fortuna leered toward his friends for encouragement as he pushed Lucky out the tavern door.

“Gaspar, here, says he should’ve whupped you for the sass you gave him at the mill. Said you could use taking down a few pegs and he’d like to be the one to do the deed.

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