Champ of the Forecastle
Format
ePub (for Digital Readers, including the Sony Reader, and PC/MAC) and Mobi (for Amazon Kindle)
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Excerpt
I DON'T HAVE to have a man tell me he craves war. I can tell it by the set of his jaw, the glare in his eyes. So, when Sven Larson raised his huge frame on his bunk and accused me of swiping his tobaccer, I knowed very well what his idee was. But I didn't want to fight Sven. Havin' licked the big cheese three or four times already, I seen no need in mauling him any more. So somewhat to the surprise of the rest of the crew, I said:
