Rain was falling harder now, running down pulleys and collecting in puddles, seeping through the apron. The sky was soot, cracks of golden sunlight riddling the clouds.
Something made Guard Captain Drecht tense, the sword pressing harder against Arent’s chest.
‘Do it,’ urged Sander Kers under his breath. ‘Do it now.’
8
Holding his dagger to Eggert’s neck, a sword pressed to his chest, Arent had to admit that boarding hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped.
‘Easy,’ he said, gripping the squirming musketeer a little tighter.
He eyed Jacobi Drecht, perfectly steady on the other side of his sabre.
‘I’ve no quarrel with you,’ said Arent. ‘But Sammy Pipps is a great man and I’ll not have him treated ill by piss-stains like this.’ He nodded to Thyman, who was staggering to his feet in a daze. ‘I want the word to go out that Sammy isn’t sport for bored soldiers. From this point on, anybody who lays hands on him won’t live long enough to regret it.’
Arent’s words betrayed none of his uncertainty.
There wasn’t a fouler individual alive than a musketeer in the United East India Company. The job paid poorly and so attracted only the blackest hearts, those content to pursue a reckless course far from home because home was where the hangman was. Once away, their only concerns were amusement and survival, and woe betide anybody who came between them.
The only way to command such men was through fear. Drecht would have to know which offences to turn a blind eye to and which insults required blood. If Drecht didn’t kill him, if he didn’t defend the honour these men didn’t have, they’d call it weakness. For the next eight months, he’d be fighting to get back even a pinch of the authority he’d boarded with.
Arent tightened his grip around the dagger, a drop of Eggert’s blood rolling down the edge. ‘Put the sword down, Drecht,’ he demanded.
‘Release my man first.’
They stared at each other, the howling wind whipping rain at their faces.
‘Your mate cheated you at dice,’ declared Sammy, breaking the tension.
Everybody looked at him, having entirely forgotten he was there. He was talking to Eggert, the musketeer being held by Arent.
‘What?’ demanded Eggert, the movement of his jaw forcing Arent to lower the dagger lest he accidentally put a spare hole in his mouth.
‘Earlier, while you were freeing me from the net, you were scowling at him,’ said Sammy, grimacing with effort as he got to his feet. ‘He annoyed you recently. You kept casting glances towards his coin purse and frowning. I heard it rattling under his jacket as we walked. Yours didn’t, because yours is empty. You’ve been wondering if he cheated you. He did.’
‘He can’t have,’ sniffed Eggert. ‘They were my dice.’
‘He suggested you use them?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then you took a few rolls, but your luck soured after he won his first pot. Isn’t that so?’
The musketeer picked at the scabs on his bald head in agitation. He was so taken with Sammy’s accusations he hadn’t noticed Arent had released him.
‘How can you know?’ he demanded suspiciously. ‘Did he say something?’
‘He had another set of dice in his hand,’ explained Sammy. ‘He switched them when he scooped up your dice with his winnings. At the end of the game, he handed yours back.’
The crowd watching them murmured their surprise at this insight. More than one hushed voice accused him of devilry. It was always the same way.
Sammy ignored them and nodded at Thyman, who was leaning weak-kneed against a wall. ‘Open his coin purse, they’ll be in there,’ he said. ‘Roll them five times and you’ll win five times. They’re weighted in his favour.’
Seeing Eggert’s anger growing, Drecht sheathed his sword and put himself between the two musketeers.
‘Thyman, that way,’ he ordered, gesturing towards the mainmast. ‘Eggert, down there.’ He pointed at the stairs on to the orlop deck. ‘Keep away from each other today, or you’ll have me to answer to.’ His gaze suggested very clearly they wouldn’t enjoy that. ‘And you lot can see yourselves away, as well. I’m sure you’ve something else to be doing.’
Grumbling, the crowd broke apart and wandered off.
Drecht made sure Eggert and Thyman were truly done with each other, then turned his attention to Sammy.
‘How did you do that?’ He was filled with that curious mixture of awe and alarm that Sammy’s gifts often provoked.
‘I judged the character of the men and the relative heft of their coin purses,’ said Sammy, as Arent dusted him off. ‘I knew one was angry at the other, and money seemed a simple motive, so I led his anger where it wanted to go.’
The implications of the statement moved across Jacobi Drecht’s face with impressive speed.
‘You guessed?’ he exclaimed disbelievingly.
‘I know the game,’ said Sammy, spreading his hands as far as the chains would allow. ‘I used it myself in my youth. It requires quick fingers, lots of practice and somebody stupid enough not to realise they’re being cheated. I saw all of those qualities before me.’
Drecht barked with laughter and shook his head, marvelling at the audacity of it.