Page 44 of The Sea Witch
“So, you’ve heard nothing.”
“I have my haunts, and the sort of people who frequent them don’t trade in that kind of information.”
“What about Louis Dupont, Edward Best, or Diego Sanchez? Know anything about them? What they might have been doing five years ago?”
“I don’t want to know what they do a quarter of an hour ago,” she answered, folding her arms across her chest. “Men like them bring nothing but strife.”
“I see.”
“Apologies I couldn’t be of more help,” Jane said with surprising kindness. “Forty-five people crew theSea Witch. Someone’s got to be useful to you.” She nodded toward the bowl and mug. “Josephine made hasty pudding. We’re always happy on hasty pudding days.”
With that, Jane left the cabin. The unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock followed.
He sat at the table and ate. The porridge was flavorful and well-cooked, made with ground maize cooked in milk, and studded with dried fruit and a swirl of honey. Moments later, his spoon scraped the bottom of his now empty bowl. It was a far cry from most of the rations in the Royal Navy. As awarrant officer, his food was slightly better than what the rest of the crew ate, but that still didn’t make it particularly palatable.
Soon after he finished his meal, there came a knock at the door. Why even bother knocking when he was, for all intents, a prisoner? Yet he wouldn’t begrudge them the courtesy.
“May I come in, sir? Cap’n bid me come and talk with ye.”
“You may.”
The door was unlocked, and a woman with curly brown hair and a cautious smile poked her head in. “Now a good time, sir? I can come back if you’re, em, occupied.”
“Your company is welcome.” He stood. “I only have a few questions to ask you. Who do I have the honor of addressing?”
She flushed pink but didn’t look away. “I’ll do my best to answer ’em. Oh, I’m Cora.”
“Cora, have you heard anything relating to the murder of Captain Daniel Priestley of the Royal Navy...”
And so it went for the duration of the morning. One after another, the crew of theSea Witchcame to speak with him. Some were shy, like Cora, others were suspicious, or contemptuous. The quartermaster looked ready to disembowel him with barely a lift of her eyebrow. Fewer of the crew were actually friendly, but they all answered with honesty. At least, theyseemedto be speaking the truth.
Each of theSea Witch’s crew members met his gaze. None of them fidgeted or touched their mouths or repeated his words back to him or offered too many details.
By the time the last of the company left the cabin, three hours had passed.
“Thank you for your time,” he said to the final crew member, a Frenchwoman named Thérèse with tattoos on her hands and encircling her wrists. The sides of her head were close-cropped, leaving her amber hair longer on top and the back. Everyone aboard theSea Witchseemed inclinedto adapt their appearance to whatever pleased them, rather than adhere to prevailing beauty customs.
“De rien,” she answered with a shrug. “And now I am to take you above deck, to see Madame Capitaine.”
Ben straightened, tugging on his waistcoat and smoothing his hair. The chain between his manacles bumped against his nose.
He stopped when he caught Thérèse smirking at him.
“Come with me,” she said, “and try nothing or I will make use of this.” She plucked a trio of metal nails from her pocket, then spun her fingers through the air. The nails transformed into a glowing spiked sphere that hovered above her palm. “It attaches to the skin like a burr but it hurts much more than a burr. Much, much more.”
“Your warning has been taken into consideration.”
He hurried toward the door. Hetriedto hurry, but even after climbing the mainmast in his chains, he hadn’t mastered the art of walking whilst manacled, and the shackles made him exceptionally slow and clumsy. Thérèse rolled her eyes at him, but said nothing as she pushed him along the passageway, the enchanted burr at her fingertips ready to be deployed.
As he wended his way through the ship, Alys’s presence was an invisible sun. She burned through all the decks and bulkheads that lay between them, heating him from a distance. Even if Thérèse wasn’t there to guide him, he’d know where to find the captain. His feet automatically went up the companionway steps that led above deck.
Dazzled, disoriented, he shielded his eyes against the glare of the actual sun in the sky. The smell of seawater filled his nostrils. Yet he heard nothing except the creaking of the sheets and canvas sails, and waves lapping against the ship. No voices, no commands.
Everyone was silent.
Slowly, his vision came back to him. Dozens of female facesstared at him. He had met all of them, spoken to each, and some still looked at him with distrust and curiosity.
A collection of animals, including several cats, various birds, rodents, lizards, two dogs, and a small pig all curled together, napping in the sun. So many different beasts cohabitated peacefully together. Witches’ familiars.
