82
The charade at an end, Lia and Dorothea immediately set about untying the other passengers, while gently explaining what had happened. It was quite a story, and most took it in open-mouthed.
‘Where are my boys?’ asked Creesjie, straining to find them.
‘With Arent,’ explained Sara. ‘We didn’t want them to see this.’ She whistled into the dark, receiving one back. ‘They’re coming now.’
Creesjie sagged, looking suddenly exhausted. ‘Thank you, Sara.’
‘Don’t thank me. This isn’t over.’
‘And when will it be over?’
The light of the Eighth Lantern burst into life, then immediately exploded. Flaming pieces dropped into the ocean.
‘When that happens,’ said Sara.
Another lantern was lit to its portside, followed by a dozen more, illuminating the masts and decks, the beakhead and even the sailors on the waist. From being terrible, the Eighth Lantern was immediately transformed into something mundane. It was an Indiaman. Exactly like the Saardam. It had rigging and sails and had clearly been maltreated by the storm, much as they had.
‘It’s just a ship,’ said somebody behind her. They sounded disappointed.
‘It’s the Leeuwarden,’ came another voice. ‘I recognise the colours. She was part of the fleet that left Batavia. I thought we lost her in the storm.’
There was a murmur of agreement, then surprise. A second smaller boat was crossing the water, approaching the island.
‘The Leeuwarden was the Eighth Lantern from the start,’ said Arent, emerging from the darkness with Marcus and Osbert. The boys were jogging to keep up with his long strides. Seeing their mother, they immediately ran to her side, becoming confused when they found her tied to a piece of wreckage.
‘It’s just a game we’re playing,’ said Creesjie, trying to be reassuring. She cast an appealing glance at Sara, who nodded towards Arent.
The mercenary took a knife out of his boot and severed the ropes tying Creesjie’s hands, allowing her to hug her sons.
‘But we saw eight lanterns on the water,’ argued Lia. ‘How was that possible if there were only seven ships?’
‘The Eighth Lantern was just a lantern mounted on a specially rigged yawl,’ replied Arent, going to the water’s edge. ‘I saw a broken version of it in the jungle. Creesjie’s crew must have built a few on this island, before they got it right and transported it over to the Leeuwarden. When they needed the Eighth Lantern to terrify us, they rowed it out on to the water and set it alight. That’s how it appeared and disappeared so quickly. It was only ever coming and going from the Leeuwarden.’
Closer and closer came the boat, oars splashing. Somebody was holding a lantern at her bow. Arent watched it, a grim expression on his face.
Sara was staring at Creesjie with daggers in her eyes. ‘You put my daughter in danger!’ she hissed.
‘No,’ said Creesjie pleadingly. ‘No, that was never the intent. Do you think I’d have brought my own boys aboard if I thought to do the ship harm? Old Tom was all theatre, just a shadow playing on the walls. There was never supposed to be a mutiny, or a shipwreck. I planned it so carefully, Sara. Crauwels was paid to sail us here, then disembark everybody by claiming he needed to thoroughly search the ship for Emily de Haviland. I assumed everybody would be so afraid they’d agree willingly. This island isn’t dangerous. It doesn’t really resemble the Mark of Old Tom, that was just to convince any last doubters that the demon was real, and had killed Jan Haan. There are supplies here, and the Leeuwarden was going to stumble upon us in a day or so. It would have taken everybody back to Amsterdam, leaving Crauwels and a skeleton crew to unload the treasure, minus his payment. Once that was done, they were supposed to sail the Saardam back safely, delivering the cargo and appeasing the Gentlemen 17. The only people who were supposed to get hurt were Jan Haan and Sander Kers.’ Hatred seethed in every word. ‘I didn’t know Johannes Wyck would be aboard, and I didn’t expect Crauwels to betray me. He wanted the treasure and The Folly for himself, and he thought he could get them by inciting his crew to kill the nobles, including me. Believe me, Old Tom was for your husband’s benefit alone.’
‘What about Bosey? You bu—’ Sara’s fury was quashed by the sight of Marcus and Osbert, peering up at her wide-eyed. They were clinging to their mother, firelight playing on their innocent, frightened faces.
‘Me and your mama need to settle a few matters,’ she said, her heart aching. ‘Will you play with Dorothea for a little while?’
They glanced at their mother uncertainly, but Creesjie smiled at them. ‘Off you go, boys. I’ll be along to collect you soon.’
Dorothea took each boy by the hand, her expression betraying neither dismay nor confusion at the circumstances. She would have questions later, Sara knew, but for the moment Marcus and Osbert were her concern. They usually were.
A crowd of passengers had encircled them, forcing Dorothea to push through. They were curious for the minute, still numb from everything that had happened, but their rage wouldn’t keep in its kennel long, thought Sara. Not once they realised they had somebody to blame for their misery.
Sara glanced at Arent near the waterline, wishing he was closer. Though only a few steps away, she felt she might need him soon.
‘Why did you kill Bosey?’ asked Sara, watching as Creesjie got to her feet.
Seeing the faces around her, Creesjie lifted her chin haughtily, as if they were servants to be stared down. ‘I needed somebody to introduce our demon, so I asked Crauwels to recommend the worst man he could. He gave me Bosey. Believe me, murder was the least of his sins. I didn’t enjoy what I did to him, but he was drugged insensible. There was mercy in it.’
‘I looked into his eyes as he died,’ argued Sara, offended by her dismissive tone. ‘He was in agony. There was no mercy there.’
‘How did you do it?’ interrupted Lia, her eagerness betraying her fascination for the mechanics behind the crime. ‘Nobody went near him. How did you make him catch flame the way you did?’
‘The stack of crates he was standing on had been hollowed out, and a ladder built inside. A confederate of mine was inside. He was responsible for the voice you heard. When the time came, my confederate simply opened a small hatch and lit Bosey’s robes from the inside.’
The crowd muttered angrily. Many of them had been on the docks when Bosey caught fire and such suffering wasn’t easily forgotten.
‘Why did you hide Sander’s body?’ pressed Lia.
There was something terrible in her eagerness for answers, thought Sara. It was as if this was just another of Sammy Pipps’s cases, empty of consequence, existing only for her amusement.
‘Sander Kers was the last of his witchfinding order,’ said Creesjie, whose expression suggested she felt the same unease as Sara. ‘They tortured and butchered without care, and I thought the world best rid of them. By careful planning, I’d managed to slaughter the others, but I wanted to take Sander’s life personally. He taught Pieter every vile trick he knew, so I lured him to Batavia. I’d intended to kill him the same night as Jan Haan, but when he heard Reynier van Schooten’s confession, he went down to investigate the treasure in the cargo hold. By terrible coincidence, he overheard me talking with …’ She faltered, almost tripping over a name, ‘… an accomplice. I managed to get behind him and slit his throat, but it was clumsy. In the darkness, I couldn’t be certain I hadn’t left something incriminating behind, so we dragged the body into one of Bosey’s smuggling compartments until we knew what to do with it.’
From beyond the circle of spectators came a muffled howl of pain. Arent darted towards it, Sara’s eyes following him.