The Devil and the Dark Water

69

Arent stared at Isabel and Isabel glared back.

‘Paprika?’ said Captain Crauwels, from behind her.

Sammy laughed weakly. It was the best he could do. For the two days Arent had slept, Sara had asked the musketeer Thyman to attend his exercises. While a surprisingly lively conversationalist, he hadn’t been keen on staying up with him all night, as Arent had been. As a result, he’d spent almost two full days in his cramped, dark cell, leaving him twisted and weak, pale as bones, with a wet, hacking cough. He was now investigating Wyck’s body, his fingers leaping from place to place like startled flies. ‘Imagine how I feel,’ said Sammy. ‘Four years ago, I tried to train him and got nowhere, yet the moment I disappear for a few weeks, he’s working wonders.’

‘The constable caught Isabel sneaking around the ship at night,’ said Arent, ignoring the jest. ‘I’ve smelled paprika on her these last few days, as I noticed it on Wyck when we were fighting. Paprika is only stored in a particular section of the cargo hold, a place neither of them would have reason to go unless they were meeting there.’

‘Is that true?’ demanded Crauwels.

‘I’d wager that’s his babe in your belly,’ said Arent, trying to meet her averted eyes. ‘Did you make a bargain with Old Tom to kill him for putting it there?’

‘Kill him?’ Her eyes flashed with fire. ‘He was my friend and it weren’t his babe, but he had pity for it.’

Crauwels snorted. ‘Pity?’

‘He knew me of old,’ said Isabel, turning her fierce glare on him. ‘He’d been sailing to Batavia since I was a little girl, begging on the docks. He’d give me coin for food, for a bed. He came back this time to find me with a babe on the way and no father to raise it. He said he was done with this life and would take care of us in the Provinces, if I’d risk it with him. I couldn’t afford a berth on the ship, so I said no, but then Sander told me he’d tracked Old Tom to this boat and we had to give chase. I thought God was smiling on me, at last.’

‘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.’