Wake of the Bloody Angel

Chapter Seventeen

Seaton gave us a heading based on the Vile Howl ’s logbook, and we followed it. I mean, I guess we did. We sighted no land, the sea looked the same, and I could never navigate by the stars the way sailors could. It appeared, by the sun, that we headed southwest. It certainly got no cooler.

Clift kept two men posted atop the foremast crosstrees at all times. No one was going to slip up on the Red Cow. I wondered if perhaps we were overlooking the obvious reason for our villain’s actions, whoever he was: maybe clearing the sea of traffic was the point. But again, we were brought back to the why. What good is a pirate without ships to attack? The more I thought about it, the more I was certain some crucial bit of information eluded us. As it stood, the puzzle made no sense at all.

When I discussed it with Jane, she was just as perplexed. “You clear things, usually, to make sure you have room for something else. Troops clear a road so an army can travel. But goddamn, the ocean’s already mostly empty.”

“So is it just someone showing off? ‘Look how powerful I am’?”

“Fuck, Eddie, I don’t know. But I tell you, I’m about ready to bury a blade in somebody, and if we don’t find some bad guys soon, I can’t promise it won’t be one of the good guys.”

I knew what she meant. Even the daily sword practice did little to help my impatience.

One night over dinner, Suhonen-who had been admitted to the captain’s table, his huge size making us all feel like kids sitting in the corner while the grown-ups ate in the main hall- demonstrated his innate knack for logical thinking, something he’d previously kept to himself. “The one constant thing they’ve taken is the ship’s medicine chest, right? Maybe someone’s sick.”

“Maybe, but they’ve taken an awful lot of medicine, more than enough for a ship’s crew,” Jane said.

“What if the sick people aren’t on the ship?” he said.

“That’s an idea,” I said. “How well settled is this part of the world?”

“Pretty much every place that can be occupied, is,” Jane said. “There are a lot of small uninhabited islands, but even those are well known and used to replenish supplies. Not a lot of surprises left in this part of the ocean.”

“Only takes one,” Suhonen pointed out.

And there was only one needle in the proverbial haystack, an analogy that grew more apt with each passing day. We thought we were in the right area, but that was as specific as we could get, and now it was a matter of persis tence and luck. Only one of those things was under our control.

Finally, just after sunrise, on a day as fine and clear as any, one of the lookouts yelled down, “Ship to port!”

Clift gave orders that Seaton repeated. Men scurried up the shrouds and rushed to the ropes on deck. Jane and I pushed our way through the crowd of unoccupied crew at the bow rail.

We waited for additional information. I’d never heard the Cow so silent during the day. Finally the lookout said, “No pennant, no sails. No sign of life!”

“Another one,” Greaves said. “Another ghost.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Clift snapped, “especially not where the crew can hear.”

“Aye, sir. My indiscretion.”

“Bring us alongside, Mr. Seaton. You know the drill.”

Sails were adjusted, ropes were pulled and tied, and the Red Cow turned to port, heading directly toward the oncoming vessel. Mr. Dancer’s gun crew readied themselves, and the rest of the men made sure they were armed with swords, axes, and cutlasses. A few of the men, too nervous to just stand around and watch, went through the exercises I’d been teaching; I only hoped they’d remember them in the thick of battle. Could that be what happened to all the other ships, even the Vile Howl — their crews panicked? But what could rattle a bunch of ex-pirates so badly? These were men who knew all the tricks of both sides.

As we closed in on this new vessel, we quickly saw it was not just “another one.” For one thing, this ship bore no name or other form of identification. Her hull was worn and faded, and all the deck fixings were stained with rust and corrosion. She was bigger than the Red Cow, with three masts to our two. Yet she sat perfectly upright, her empty masts swaying only slightly in the breeze that drove us.

“Where are her sails?” Jane asked softly.

“Is that important?”

“Yeah. I mean, she had to get out here somehow. Her sails aren’t furled, they’re gone. No rigging at all, just masts and spars. Somebody took down all the canvas deliberately.”

“Why?”

“So she’d stay put, I imagine. She must be anchored.” She shook her head. “What the hell is she?”

“Beats me,” Clift answered. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s just a generic ship. She hasn’t been fitted out for any particular purpose. She’s not a warship, nor a cargo vessel, nor designed to carry passengers.”

“Then what’s keeping her upright?” one of the sailors inquired. No one answered.

“She must be anchored,” Jane repeated.

“This water’s far too deep for anchorage,” Seaton said.

“Then why the hell isn’t she moving?” Jane said.

“Belay that order to come alongside, Mr. Seaton,” Clift said. “Keep us at a distance.”

“Aye, sir,” Seaton said, then shouted to the crew. We slowed and turned to starboard, then back to port until we were parallel to the strange ship but with fifty yards of water between us.

“You ever hunt geese, Mr. LaCrosse?” Suhonen said, so quietly only I heard.

“When I was a kid,” I said.

“Then you’ll know what this ship reminds me of.” He paused. “A decoy.”

His insight sent cold chills through me. But if he was right, where were the hunters? The sea was empty in all directions; where could they have put their blind? Unless, of course, they waited out of sight in the ghost ship’s belly.

“We’re putting off the inevitable,” Jane said. “We have to go over there.”

“Someone on the Vile may have thought the same thing,” Clift said.

“You don’t know that this ship has anything to do with the Vile, ” Jane said.

“No, I don’t. But I do know we found it by backtracking the Vile, and that’s a big honking coincidence. I’m not in a hurry to lose my crew the way those other vessels did.”

“Then Jane and I will go,” I said. “We’re not part of the crew.”

“Why are you so eager?” Clift asked.

“Because he hates mysteries,” Jane said with a grin.

“Shut up,” I said, annoyed.

She grinned wider. “Am I right?”

“You’ll take one of the boats,” Clift said. “I don’t want to get the ship any closer.”

“Are you scared?” Jane teased.

“I’m properly cautious.” To me, he asked, “Do you want Suhonen?”

I looked up at the big man. He nodded.

“And a couple more,” Clift said. He scanned the men on deck and said, “Kaven and Veasley, you’re volunteering.”

Veasely said, “Do I have to, Cap’n? I had my stars read, and they say I shouldn’t take on any special work assignments right now while Mercury is aspected by Uranus.”

“My foot’s going to impact your anus if you keep whining,” Clift said. “Yes, you have to go.”

Kaven, with a long braid that I knew included a strip of thorny vine to prevent enemies from grabbing it during battle, hmph ed and said, “We get a hazard bonus?”

“You’ll need a hazard bonus if you talk back again,” Clift snapped. “What’s wrong with you people-when did you start trying to get out of fights? If we were still on the other side of the line, I’d send you swimming home.”

“Not afraid of a fight with any living man,” Veasely said.

Duncan Tew suddenly appeared before Clift. “Can I go along, too?” he said, his voice shaking. He added, “Sir.”

“Who are you again?” Clift said.

“He’s been taking my swordplay class,” I said before Duncan blurted out his last name. “He’s pretty good. If he wants to go, it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah,” Clift said skeptically. “Well, one more can’t matter either way, so sure, go ahead. No hazard bonus, understand?”

Duncan saluted. “Yes, sir.”

I watched the other ship as Seaton got the wherry ready to go. Part of me wished for a bigger boat and more men, but surely two experienced sword jockeys and three tough ex- pirates could both avoid whatever traps awaited and watch out for one nervous amateur. If not.. well, then I hoped we’d at least have time to know what was killing us before it finished.

Kaven and Veasely rowed, Suhonen steered, and Duncan sat between Jane and me in the bow. The sea was a little rough, and we rode up and down a lot more than I expected, but we quickly approached the strange ship.

Kaven turned his head to look behind us, and Veasely said, “Watch that braid, will you?”

“Sorry,” Kaven said. “Sometimes I forget.”

“You’ve got a damn saw blade tangled in your hair, and you forget?”

“It’s not a saw blade; it’s viper thorn.”

Veasely shook his head. “What ever. Why don’t you just cut your hair, then you won’t have to worry about it?”

“I promised my mother,” Kaven said darkly. It was apparently enough explanation, because Veasely turned to me and said, “So you’re a sword jockey, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said.

With his hands wrapped around the oar, I saw he had a letter tattooed on each knuckle. Together they spelled CANT SWIM. “My brother ran afoul of one of you. He was dillydallying with all the captains’ wives in town while their husbands were at sea. Sword jockey followed him around and gave one captain the list of all the times he’d buried his harpoon into Mrs. Captain, if you take my meaning. He decided it was time to sign aboard another boat. Posthaste.” He grinned, revealing several missing teeth. “With a bachelor captain. But before he left port, he made sure that sword jockey wouldn’t be bothering any more honest sailors.”

I turned to Suhonen. “We don’t get a lot of respect.”

“Most of us don’t deserve it,” Jane added.

“A man gets respect, not his job,” Suhonen said.

“You’re a lot smarter than you let on, aren’t you?” Jane said.

He shrugged. “Not every job requires a smart man. But a smart man can do almost every job.”

We were close to the other ship now. The hull’s wood was aged and sun-bleached. A row of four portholes ran from bow to stern, and when we got closer, I realized they were much larger than the ones on the Red Cow, big enough for a man to easily crawl through. That seemed a dangerous invitation to sinking in rough weather. Above us, the rail looked weathered but intact.

“Ahoy!” Jane called. “Anyone aboard? What ship are you? What master? This is Captain Argo with the Red Cow! Do you need assistance?”

There was no answer.

“She’s riding low in the water,” Veasley observed. “Must have a full belly of cargo.”

We found no ropes or ladders, so Suhonen and Kaven tossed up grapples and hooked the rail. I hadn’t climbed a rope in a long time, and those same muscles still sore from swinging onto the Vile Howl protested again. But I made it, much more gracefully than Duncan, who may never have climbed a rope before in his life. Suhonen had to haul him up the last couple of feet.

We paused to get our bearings. The deck was empty. Totally. Of everything. There were no ropes, no lines, no nets, nothing, just bare wood stained with neglect. The only sound came from the creak of the empty masts above us, and the water slapping against the hull. It didn’t even smell like a ship: no odors of people, food, or cargo.

“No flies,” Jane observed. “So probably no dead bodies or rotted provisions.”

“How many people would it take to crew a ship like this?” I asked.

“Six, bare minimum,” she said. She went up to the wheel and spun it. It turned easily, and kept going when she released it. “The wheel’s not attached to the rudder.”

I asked, “So how is this thing staying still?”

“Seaton was right, I can’t imagine an anchor chain long enough to reach the bottom here,” she said. “Even if it did, it would be so long, the ship would still swing around like a kite on a line.”

“Aye, you’d need more than one,” Kaven said. “One fore, one aft, to really hold her this still.”

“I’m getting a little creeped out,” Suhonen observed. His tone was as steady as if he’d been ordering a drink in a tavern.

Jane walked to the starboard rail and looked over it. “She’s riding low. Really low. She must be loaded with something heavy, like Weasely said.”

“That’s Veasely, ma’am,” he corrected politely.

“Whatever. That would explain a little of why she doesn’t move.”

I walked onto the forecastle and looked back toward the quarterdeck. “You know what this reminds me of?” I said to no one in particular.

“A decoy?” Suhonen said. He wasn’t about to let someone else take credit for his idea.

I shook my head. “A set for a play. Like the one you guys put together. I mean, it looks like a ship, but nothing really functions.”

“It floats,” Kaven pointed out. He held a short-chained mace in his hand, the kind of weapon you had to wield expertly if you didn’t want to smash in your own skull.

We checked the captain’s cabin, but it was an empty room. No bunks, no tables, nothing. No double X on the door. Cobwebs sparkled with dried salt in the corners, and the dust on the floor showed only our footprints. Had the Vile Howl ’s crew not made it this far, or did the dust at sea simply settle faster than on land?

“Let’s check below,” Jane said. “I’m curious to see what cargo she’s carrying.”

“Should we split up?” Duncan asked. His voice was higher than normal, and he was sweating buckets that had nothing to do with the heat. “I mean, should somebody stay up here in case Captain Clift tries to signal us?”

“No,” I said. “We stay together. If this is a trap, we’re walking right into it.”

Suhonen put a big hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Just stay with me, do what I say, and you’ll be all right. I pissed myself on my first boarding, too, and that was a normal one.”

Kaven and Veasely lifted off the hatch cover. It was not fastened; it was just a big piece of wood covering the square hole in the deck.

Jane lay flat and peered over the edge. Instead of the pitchblack opening I expected, I saw light inside, probably from those huge portholes. “Well, that’s weird,” she said as she got to her feet. “I think you’re right, Eddie. But if it’s a play, where are the actors?”

“Us?” I suggested dolefully.

“Then who the fuck is the audience?”

Jane led the way down the ladder into the hold. I wondered what sort of cargo, one that needed no tending at all, could be weighing down the ship. Treasure? Rocks?

Corpses?