That something so large could float was a feat of engineering akin to devilry, and Arent felt immediately diminished in its presence. He stretched out a hand and dragged his fingertips along the coarse planks. There was a dull vibration in the wood. He tried to imagine what was on the other side: the warren of decks and staircases, the stray beams of sunlight piercing the gloom. A ship this size would require hundreds of souls to sail her and would carry that many passengers again. They were all in danger. Even chained, even beaten and maltreated, Sammy was the only one who could help them.
Arent conveyed this thought as eloquently as he was able. ‘Somebody’s trying to sink this boat, and I swim like a bag of rocks. Any chance you can pull your head out of your arse and do something about it?’
Sammy grinned at him. ‘You could lead an army over a cliff with that tongue,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Did your search of the leper’s body turn anything up?’
Arent withdrew a piece of hemp he’d hacked off a sack on the docks. Wrapped inside was the charm the leper had been holding when Arent killed him. It was too charred to make out any detail.
Sammy leant forward, eyeing it intently. ‘It was snapped in half,’ he said. ‘You can make out the jagged edges still.’
He pondered it a moment, then swivelled towards Guard Captain Drecht. His voice was filled with authority despite the chains. ‘Have you ever served upon an Indiaman?’
Drecht squinted at him, as if the question were a dark cave he didn’t want to enter.
‘I have,’ he answered, at last.
‘What’s the fastest way to sink one?’
Drecht raised a bushy blond eyebrow, then nodded towards Arent. ‘Get your mate to ram his fist through the hull.’
‘I’m serious, Guard Captain,’ said Sammy.
‘Why?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘Not a pleasant thing you’re going to, but I’ll not let you drag the governor general into hell with you.’
‘My future is in Arent’s hands, which means I’ll fear for it no longer,’ responded Sammy. ‘However, a threat’s been made against this ship. I’d like to ensure it comes to nothing.’
Drecht looked past Sammy to Arent. ‘Is that truly his intent, Lieutenant? On your honour.’
Arent nodded, causing Drecht to stare at the ships surrounding them. He frowned, adjusting the bandolier slung over his shoulder, the copper flasks rattling.
‘Put a spark to the gunpowder store,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘That’s how I’d do it.’
‘Who keeps watch on the gunpowder store?’
‘A constable behind a barred door,’ responded Drecht.
‘Arent, I need you to find out who has access to that room and any grievances our constable may hold,’ said Sammy.
Arent was encouraged to hear the eagerness in his friend’s voice. For the most part, they investigated thefts and murders, crimes long committed and easily understood. It was like arriving at the theatre after the performance had ended and being asked to work out the story using pieces of discarded script and the props left on stage. But here was a crime not yet undertaken; a chance to save lives rather than avenge them. Here, at last, was a case worthy of Sammy’s talents. Hopefully, it would be enough to distract him until Arent secured his freedom.
‘You’ll need to get permission from Captain Crauwels,’ interrupted Drecht, flicking a drop of seawater off his eyelash. ‘Only his good word will get you inside. Not that his good words are easy to come by.’
‘Then start there,’ Sammy told Arent. ‘Once you’ve spoken to the constable, see if you can identify the leper. I’m treating him as a victim.’
‘Victim?’ scoffed Drecht. ‘He was the one raining curses down on us.’
‘How? His tongue had been cut out. All he really did was give us something to stare at while another voice issued the threat. We have no idea whether the leper shared its malice or not, though I’m certain he didn’t climb those crates by himself or ignite his own robes. His hands didn’t move from his sides until he hurled himself off the crates, and we all saw his panic as the flames consumed him. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him, which makes his death a murder – and a heinous one at that.’ A small spider was scurrying along Sammy’s chains and he made a bridge of his hand, letting it crawl on to the bench. ‘That’s why Arent’s going to find the name of the leper, then talk to any friends he had and piece together his final weeks. From those fragments, perhaps we’ll understand how he came to be on those crates, whose voice we heard and why it harbours such hate for those aboard the
Arent shifted sheepishly. ‘I’m not certain I can do any of those things Sammy. Maybe we can find –’
‘Three years ago, you asked me to teach you my art and I made you my apprentice,’ said Sammy, irritated by his reticence. ‘I believe it’s time you acted as such.’
Old arguments rose up between them like noxious bubbles in a swamp.
‘We gave up on that,’ said Arent heatedly. ‘We already know I can’t do what you do.’