The Devil and the Dark Water полностью

‘Governor General Haan’s sailed aboard the Saardam a couple of times before,’ he said, puffing on his pipe. ‘Crauwels has a flatterer’s tongue and managed to put himself the right side of him, which aint a feat most manage. That’s why he chose this ship to sail home on.’

Drecht ducked through the door into the great cabin, leaving Arent to stare at it in dismay.

The doorway was half his size.

‘Should I fetch a saw?’ asked Drecht, as Arent contorted his huge frame through the gap.

After the dim helm, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dazzling glare of the great cabin. It was aptly named, for it was the largest room on the Saardam outside of the cargo hold. The whitewashed walls were bowed and the ceiling beamed, four lattice windows revealing the other six ships in the fleet spread out behind them, sails billowing.

A huge table took up most of the room, its surface covered in scrolls, ledgers and manifests. A navigational chart had been unrolled over the top, the four corners pinned down by an astrolabe, a compass, a dagger and a quadrant.

Crauwels was using the chart to plot a course. His jacket was folded neatly over the back of a nearby chair, revealing a crisp cotton shirt, clean enough to suggest it was new from the tailor that day. As with the rest of his attire, it was expensive.

Arent couldn’t make sense of it. Sailing was dirty work. Ships were kept afloat by tar and rust and grime. Clothing was sweated through, then stained, then torn. Most officers wore their clothes to rags, replacing them grudgingly. After all, why waste coin on finery, when it wouldn’t survive the voyage? Only nobles were so frivolous, but no noble would ever lower themselves to this profession. Or any profession, come to think of it.

The dwarf Arent had seen on deck, directing the passengers to their berths, was now standing on a chair, his hands pressed flat on the table, either side of a ledger which described the state of the ship’s stores. His downturned mouth and furrowed brow suggested it made for ill reading. He tapped the captain’s arm, drawing his attention to the source of his displeasure.

‘The dwarf is our first mate, Isaack Larme,’ whispered Drecht, following Arent’s stare. ‘It’s his job to manage the crew, which means he’s got a vile temper, so stay away if you can.’

Crauwels glanced up from the ledger as they entered, then immediately turned his attention to the chief merchant, Reynier van Schooten, who was slumped in a chair with his feet on another, drinking from a jug of wine. His jewelled hand lay across his round belly, which resembled a rock that had rolled into a ravine.

‘Tell me how I’m feeding three hundred souls when we left port with provisions for one hundred fifty,’ demanded Crauwels.

‘The Leeuwarden has taken on extra supplies,’ said Van Schooten lazily, his voice already slurred with drink. ‘Once we consume ours, we’ll have space to bring them aboard.’

‘What happens if we lose sight of the Leeuwarden?’ asked the first mate in a thick Germanic accent that immediately put Arent in mind of cold winters and deep forests.

‘We call out very loudly?’ suggested Van Schooten.

‘Now’s not the –’

‘We’ll ration and resupply at the Cape,’ interrupted Van Schooten, scratching his long nose.

‘Half rations?’ asked Crauwels, dragging another ledger in front of him that listed the victuals in their hold.

‘Quarter,’ said Van Schooten, earning a dark look from the captain.

‘Why did we put to sea without sufficient rations for the voyage?’ asked the first mate angrily.

‘Because we needed space for the governor general’s cargo,’ responded Van Schooten.

‘That box the musketeers carried aboard?’ replied Larme, confused. ‘Vos ordered us to make room in the gunpowder store.’

‘That box wasn’t his only cargo,’ replied Crauwels irritably. ‘There was something much bigger, as well. Van Schooten organised for it to be brought aboard in the dead of night and he won’t tell me what it is.’

Van Schooten took a long, fortifying gulp of his wine. ‘Ask the governor general if you’re curious, see where it gets you.’

The two men glared at each other, their dislike warming the air.

Jacobi Drecht coughed uncomfortably, gesturing to Arent when the captain raised his eyes.

‘Captain Crauwels, I’d like to introduce –’

‘I know him well enough, I’ve heard the stories,’ interrupted Crauwels, immediately returning his attention to Isaack Larme. ‘Tell me about the cabins? Where am I sleeping now the governor general’s in my quarters?’

‘Port quarter,’ said the first mate. ‘Cabin two.’

‘I hate that cabin, it’s beneath the animal pens on the poop deck. Every time anybody goes near it, the sows squeal for an hour to be let out. Put me starboard bow.’

‘I’ve already claimed it,’ said the chief merchant, shaking his empty jug of wine disappointedly, then peering inside.

‘Aye, because it’s a favourite of mine and you know it,’ growled Crauwels, the cords in his thick neck flaring. ‘You’re a petty bastard, Reynier.’