FlOoD--Part Six

(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear

SiX

As the banging aroused consciousness in the quintet of unlikely sailors, each was relieved by the awareness of the object dearest to their hearts. Smith's brick was lying on his chest, as was Peterson's bible. Jones' right hand was curled around the barrel of his gun and Brown's urn was lodged firmly between his thighs.

   Bang! Bong! Clink! Thunk!

   Jones and Murphy raised their heads to observe from whence the strange cacophony of metallic sounds was proceeding. As their mutual gaze rose past the seat above their chests and Smith's prone body reclining upon it, a small anvil resting in the back of the boat came into view and a gentleman to whom they had not been introduced was sitting astride it and belaboring it with an instrument resembling a cross between a child's rattle and a pair of gardening shears. It seemed to have more than two opposite ends and must have been composed of many various textures because, whenever he touched it to the anvil, it produced a different sound.

   After their first glimpse of Johnson, Jones and Murphy lowered themselves back onto the floor of the boat. Smith and Brown had simply to roll their heads, no lifting necessary, though in different directions, to get their views of the musician and his instrument, after which they too resumed a more comfortable position. Unfortunately Peterson, who, because of the tilt of the boat, was experiencing a rather extreme rush of blood to his head, was, as the closest auditor, also receiving the fullest impact of sound and vibration from the musical performance.