The Devil and the Dark Water

21

The Eighth Lantern vanished a few hours before dawn.

Fearing an impending attack, Isaack Larme summoned Captain Crauwels, who ordered all hands to battle stations. Signals were passed across the fleet to make ready, while Johannes Wyck kicked the crew out of their hammocks, manhandling them up the stairs in whatever they were wearing.

As the anchors were raised and the sails lowered for manoeuvring, hemp was yanked out of the cannon barrels and the wedges pulled from beneath their wheels. The gunpowder store was flung open, sailors rolling dozens of kegs through the ship, then pouring their contents into the cannons and ramming them solid.

Useless among the commotion, the passengers on the orlop deck huddled together, waiting for that first volley of cannon fire. In the cabins, Sara clutched Lia’s shaking body, whispering courage. Creesjie hugged Marcus and Osbert, soothing her two young sons with songs.

The predikant and Isabel prayed together, while Arent watched from the quarterdeck. He wasn’t one to turn his back on the enemy, no matter what size it was.

Governor General Haan woke early, as was his custom, then worked at his desk, issuing instructions to Chamberlain Vos as normal. Only the slight tremble of his hand suggested something was amiss.

In the darkness, the Saardam bristled like a cat. For two hours, they braced themselves, fear becoming confusion, then boredom. Dawn broke, the night turning to ash, before crumbling away entirely.

Climbing the rigging, the lookout shaded his eyes and peered at every point on the compass.

‘She’s not out there,’ he called down to Crauwels and the first mate. ‘She’s disappeared, Captain.’