The Devil and the Dark Water

61

Still guarding the door to the passenger cabins, Drecht stared at the Eighth Lantern off the starboard quarter of the ship, desperation growing within him. He’d lost battles before. He’d been overwhelmed and forced to retreat, but never had he so singularly failed to comprehend the scale of his enemy, its intent or the terms of surrender.

How was he supposed to protect the governor general from something that could appear and vanish at will, speak without a voice, slaughter at distance and pluck things out of locked rooms without leaving a trace?

Isaack Larme came clattering up the stairs and through the red door into the passenger cabins, emerging with Captain Crauwels a few minutes later. The captain had obviously been asleep, for he was just dressed in his breeches. It was the first time Drecht could remember him being dishevelled.

The two of them went to the taffrail a few paces away.

‘Even we don’t know where we are,’ cursed Crauwels, staring at it. ‘How did it find us?’

‘Governor General wanted us to train cannon on it if it appeared again,’ replied Isaack Larme.

‘It’s too far away, and it has the wind gauge,’ said Crauwels irritably, glancing at the flag flying above them. ‘Even if they didn’t, our sails are still in tatters. We can’t manoeuvre, which means we can’t fight. Not even sure what we’d be fighting.’

‘What are your orders, Captain?’

‘All hands on deck and armed,’ he said. ‘Until then, we watch.’

Governor General Jan Haan appeared from the passenger cabins after two hours, and silently returned to his own cabin. Guard Captain Drecht took his usual position outside, lit his pipe and waited. After a few minutes, weeping sounded through the door.

62

They weren’t boarded that night, or the next, although the Eighth Lantern appeared again. Both times, it disappeared before dawn.

Over the next two days, the sails were repaired and the Saardam made seaworthy. In a bid to sight land and take a bearing, Crauwels ordered they sail in arcs, covering the widest area possible.

Where there should have been fresh hope, there was only new fear.

From the second they’d left Batavia, they’d been damned and damned and damned again, and now everybody was waiting to see what catastrophe would come next. The governor general had locked himself in his cabin, refusing to come out. Arent was laid low with fever. Vos was dead. The predikant was dead. The leper stalked the cargo hold freely, and the ship was only barely afloat. Each night, Old Tom whispered to the sailors of unholy miracles. Two had been performed and one remained. Anybody who had not bargained with him when it was revealed would be slaughtered by his other followers. That was his promise.

For most, the temptation was overwhelming. Safe passage for somebody else’s blood was too fine a deal to pass up, certainly better than they’d ever received from the Company.

Every morning, there were more charms hanging from the rigging. They tinkled in the wind, discarded. They served no purpose any more. The crew had already shaken hands with the devil they were meant to keep at bay.