‘Nothing wrong there, so why meet in secret?’ wondered Sammy.
‘To be boatswain everybody has to be afraid of you, that’s what he told me,’ she said. ‘If anybody knew he cared for something, they’d hurt it to hurt him.’
Crauwels murmured his agreement. ‘Boatswain has to keep hold of the crew. When he can’t do it any more he turns up dead. Wyck was a damn good one, but that meant he was a damn bad person.’
‘We weren’t going to talk until Amsterdam, but he sent me a message that he wanted to meet on the forecastle, only I got caught by the dwarf going there,’ she said, her voice still simmering with resentment. ‘He sent word to meet in the cargo hold instead. He told me he’d spotted somebody on deck, somebody pretending to be somebody else. He said he recognised them from the great house he used to work in.’
‘Who was it?’ asked Arent.
‘He wouldn’t tell me, he said it wasn’t safe, but they were going to pay dearly to keep the secret, and then we’d have the life he promised.’ She stared at his body, bitterly. ‘Instead, it ends like this.’
‘Which house did he serve?’
‘He didn’t tell me.’
‘It must have been the de Havilands,’ announced Sara, coming down the staircase. ‘Dalvhain is an anagram of Haviland. One of the people Old Tom possessed in the Provinces thirty years ago was Emily de Haviland. She’s been onboard this whole time. Lia spotted it, and so did my husband. He went up there to confront her before …’
Her voice softened and she looked up at Arent sympathetically.
‘He’s dead, Arent.’
She took his hand, as Sammy came over. ‘I’m sorry, my friend.’
Arent swallowed, then sat himself on a crate.
‘I know my uncle was …’ His voice was choked. ‘He did …’
‘He loved you,’ said Sara gently. ‘Despite everything else, there was that.’
As Sara consoled Arent, Sammy reached out a hand to still a swaying lantern overhead. ‘Let’s put this together,’ he said. ‘Wyck recognised Emily de Haviland on deck, presumably while she was boarding. He’d served the family back in the Provinces and knew she was once accused of possession, and investigated by Pieter Fletcher.
Wyck tried to blackmail her, but she sent her pet leper –’
‘My dead carpenter,’ interrupted Crauwels belligerently.
‘To kill him,’ said Sammy.
‘But why would Emily de Haviland care so much about protecting a name she knew we’d uncover?’ wondered Sara. ‘She came aboard using an anagram. She wanted to be found eventually.’
‘Maybe it mattered when we uncovered it,’ suggested Arent, without any great conviction.
‘None of this matters,’ shouted Crauwels, shaking his head. ‘Old Tom promised three unholy miracles before he slaughtered anybody who hadn’t agreed to one of his bargains. Well, we’re out of miracles. Way I see it, the only way to stop him now is to find this Emily de Haviland, bind her hands and feet and throw her overboard.’
‘Drown the witch,’ said Sara wryly. ‘How novel.’
70
A grim-faced company had gathered in the great cabin under a swaying lantern, shadows leaping across the walls. The book they’d found in Viscountess Dalvhain’s cabin was centred on the table, and everybody was keeping their distance. They’d all seen what was inside and all of them would rather they hadn’t.
With the governor general dead, the chief merchant was absolute master of the vessel, though he didn’t seem pleased about it. He was ashen-faced, pacing back and forth in front of the windows, while rubbing his hands through his thinning hair. There wasn’t any wine left for him to drink, though his fingers obviously itched for it.
Even those jewelled rings had lost their lustre, thought Arent.
‘Dozens dead, and the governor general among them,’ said Reynier van Schooten. ‘We have to put a stop to this before it consumes the ship.’ He turned on Arent, pointing an accusing finger. ‘Didn’t your uncle put you in charge of finding this devil when its mark first appeared on the sail? How did you miss the fact that Viscountess Dalvhain was actually Emily de Haviland?’
‘Aye, because the rest of you were probably burning with suspicion,’ snorted Sammy sarcastically, his feet on the table.
Despite everything that was happening, he’d taken the time to wash in saltwater and change his clothes for the spare set Arent had brought. He was bathed, powdered and perfumed, which meant for the first time in weeks, he was almost his own self, though there was no disguising the frailness of his body, or the slight tremor in his voice.
‘Besides, we don’t know the two are the same,’ he continued. ‘We only know that somebody came aboard using an anagram of Haviland’s name. It could be Emily de Haviland playing games, or it could be somebody else trying to fool us. Assume nothing, Chief Merchant.’ He chortled and rubbed his hands together. ‘This really is a wonderful case. If it had been brought to me in Amsterdam, I’d be jumping up and down in glee.’
‘Who in the seven hells let you out?’ snapped Van Schooten, irritated by his flippant demeanour.
‘I did,’ said Arent, his arms folded across his massive chest. ‘My uncle is dead and with him the only reason to keep Sammy imprisoned. Now that the three unholy miracles have passed, we need him out here investigating, not rotting in some dank cell.’
The room murmured its agreement, forcing Van Schooten to concede defeat, but only grudgingly.
‘So where is the passenger who was in that cabin now?’ he demanded.
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Sammy. ‘Did anybody ever meet her?’
‘Once,’ said Crauwels, roused from his thoughts for the first time since they’d come up from the orlop deck. The captain was standing at the head of the table, his palms flat on its surface. ‘Long grey dress and long grey hair. Resembled Vos in a strange sort of way. Had that odd, blank way of looking at you. She sat in the gloom and barked at me to leave her alone.’
‘What about the cabin boys? Did one of them tend her room?’ asked Sammy.
‘They were forbidden from entering,’ replied Van Schooten, ruefully.
‘Then who emptied her chamberpots?’
‘They were left outside her door each night,’ said Creesjie, wrinkling her nose, as if she could still smell them.
‘If she was so eager to stay hidden, why would she take the risk of booking a cabin?’ wondered Sara.
‘When did we start letting women into these meetings?’ demanded Van Schooten, freshly outraged as he realised Sara, Lia and Creesjie had taken chairs at the opposite end of the table from Crauwels. ‘This isn’t women’s business.’
‘Will it be women’s business when Old Tom sinks the ship?’ shot back Creesjie.
‘It doesn’t matter who’s here, or not,’ said Crauwels in a flat voice. ‘It matters what we do next. How do we save the Saardam? So far Old Tom’s been able to come and go as it pleases, slaughtering at will. I’ve heard the stories about you, Pipps. I need you to help me ferret out Emily de Haviland from wherever she’s hiding.’
‘She won’t be found, Captain,’ scoffed Sammy. ‘Emily, Old Tom or whoever is behind all of this, has planned everything meticulously.’ He waved his hand to the night sky beyond the windows. ‘There’s a ship out there that’s presumably under her control. She’s got a leper doing her bidding, who we haven’t been able to find. She stole The Folly without anybody realising, slaughtered our animals while we were standing twenty paces away and has now managed to murder the most powerful man onboard, without needing to enter his cabin. She disappeared because it was time for her to disappear. Do you think we’re going to find her hiding in the crow’s nest?’