“Tux here?” O’Brien asked abruptly.
“Yes, boss,” Solly said, startled that O’Brien had brought the motorboat over himself.
“Where is he?”
Tux came out of the shadows, buttoning up his shirt. He had been asleep, but had wakened when he heard the motorboat and had scrambled, cursing, into his clothes.
“I want you,” O’Brien said curtly.
Tux led the way down the companion ladder, along the dimly lit passage to his cabin. He sat on his bunk, stifled a yawn and looked enquiringly at O’Brien.
“Did you fix Louie?” O’Brien asked.
“Sure,” Tux said, looking a little uneasy. “Whitey hit him a shade too hard.”
O’Brien stared at him, his eyes intent.
“What does that mean?”