Wake of the Bloody Angel (12 page)

He gave Clift a hearty kiss on each cheek, then froze when he saw Jane. “By the giant stingrays of Bola Bola, it’s Jane Argo!” he cried. He wrapped her in a hug and spun her around as if she weighed nothing. Jane laughed with delight and, when he put her down, kissed him on the mouth.

“Fernelli, I’m glad to see you saw the light and joined the right side,” she said.

“The light had nothing to do with it. I got tired of lice in my beard and no gold in my pocket. At my age, regular wages plus bonuses sounds mighty good.” To Clift, he added, “What are you doing in the
Randagore
’s part of the ocean? She’s only a day behind us. Did they redraw the patrol districts again?”

“We’re chartered,” Clift said.

Fernelli’s eyebrows rose. “A private charter? You got permission for that?”

“Of course not. It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Clift said with a grin. “We’re looking for Black Edward Tew’s old quartermaster.”

“Marteen?”

“Aye. He’s back on the account.”

“So I’ve heard.” He looked at Jane. “You back hopping waves as well?”

She shook her head and nodded at me. “I’m hired muscle. He’s the gold.”

Fernelli gave me a once-over. “And why would a land- bound gentleman such as yourself be wanting to find Wendell Marteen?”

“I just want to talk to him,” I said.

“About Black Edward’s lost treasure?”

“Just about Black Edward.”

“Right,” he said with a knowing wink. “Find the man, find the money. I never put no stock in the tales of his sinking, either. Always assumed he changed his name and retired, like old Captain Lowther. They hung him when he was eighty- five, did you know that? After forty years as a law-abiding citizen. All because of a few massacres when he was a young man. I guess Marteen didn’t want to sit around waiting for the hangman to catch up to him.”

“I’ll ask him when I see him,” I said noncommittally.

“Well, you should also ask him if he knows anything about these damned ghost ships, because no one else does.”

“Ghost ships?” Clift repeated.

Fernelli jerked his thumb at the ship he’d just left. “Found this one five days ago. Still under full sail, just like you saw her now. A few odds and ends gone, but most everything still there. Certainly all the cargo crates are still full. No sign of anyone aboard her, or where they might’ve gone. And you can save your lips the effort, we’ve looked into every possibility, and there’s nothing. It’s like they just vanished right off the ship in the middle of whatever they were doing.”

I looked at Jane. “Does that happen a lot?”

“No. I mean, sometimes, sure, but usually if you look hard enough, there’s an explanation.”

“You said ‘ships,’ ” I pointed out to Fernelli. “Plural.”

Fernelli scowled. “What’s that word mean?”

“More than one,” Jane said.

“Oh, aye, this is the fourth one I know of. The
Vile Howl
found one; the
Sea Dagger
found two. Might be more. They’re all locked up in Blefuscola, which is where we’re heading with this beauty. It’s not a prize if it ain’t officially tallied, now, is it?”

Clift noticed that the crew were all looking at us, hanging on Fernelli’s every word. Their growing apprehension at this talk of “ghost ships” was palpable. I recalled Rody Hawk’s comment about their superstitious nature and wondered if Hawk had gained such a fearsome reputation in part because he’d learned to exploit this gullibility. He lost a lot of his mystique with that realization.

“Gentlemen,” Clift said, “I think we should adjourn to my cabin and discuss this in private.” More loudly he added, “Because we wouldn’t any
gossip
to get started before we knew any of the
facts,
would we? That would make us a bunch of cowardly harbor hogs, and we sure ain’t that, are we, lads?”

The crew’s halfhearted murmurs of assent were not reassuring.

“Not sure I’d trust Fernelli’s word on this,” a new voice boomed.

Suhonen strode through the crew, which moved aside quickly. His bare chest gleamed with sweat, and he looked down on the little bald man with contempt. Suddenly we could hear the creaking of the yardarms above us.

Fernelli wasn’t intimidated. “Aye, if it ain’t the walking sword arm. Still wearing short pants, I see.”

“And you’re still blaming everyone else for your own misdeeds. Ghosts now, is it?”

“I’ve told the plain truth, you festering tar stain. And anything I did before was wiped clean by my pardon. Ain’t that right, Captain Clift?”

“That’s the law,” Clift agreed neutrally.

“And what about you, you overgrown canvas crab?” Fernelli stepped right up to Suhonen as if he might strike him. “You were the parson’s daughter, I assume? So sweet, bees looked for pollen in your arse?”

“What I did, I did looking right at them,” Suhonen said. “No man had to fear turning his back on me.”

Finally Clift stepped in. “Stand down, sailors. We have a common enemy out hiding in the wave troughs, not striding the decks beside us. Come on, Fernelli.” He gestured toward the hatch. Fernelli and Suhonen kept their gazes locked for a moment longer; then the smaller man walked past Clift and took the steps down into the darkness, his back straight and shoulders back. As we followed, Clift said, “They’re cousins. Sometimes it’s a small ocean.”

We followed Clift down the steps into the hold. As we did, Dorsal the cabin boy jumped aside to let us pass. I winked at him and he grinned shyly back at me, hands clasped behind him in a childish approximation of military at-ease. The others paid him no mind.

Below the deck, everyone was on their feet, and while they didn’t salute the way a naval crew would, there was a sense of respect in their casual nods toward Clift. With ex-pirates, I suppose you take what you get. We went through the crew space into the captain’s dayroom, where he closed the door. With his open cabin to port, there was a nice cross breeze through the portholes. RHIP was all a matter of what you compared it to.

In the cabin we sat on the benches on either side of the short table. Clift retrieved a jug and a handful of heavy wooden tankards, the kind that wouldn’t slide at the slightest swell or shatter if they hit the floor. He poured us each a large portion, then put the jug back in its padded cloth box.

He raised his tankard. “To justice on the high seas,” he said, the official motto of the Anti-Freebootery Guild. We touched our drinks together and repeated the phrase. Clift said, “All right, Fernelli, tell me more about these abandoned ships.”

“I only know firsthand about the one over there,” he said. “We found her adrift off Swedborg Reef, near the great trench where the ocean is fathomless.”

“Who is she?” Jane asked.

“The
Mellow Wine,
a cargo ship out of Langlade.”

“What’s her cargo?” I asked.

Fernelli looked at Clift, who nodded that it was okay to answer me. Fernelli said, “Bolts of cloth, mostly. Some personal items being shipped. Nothing easily sold.”

“You said some things were missing,” I said.

Fernelli looked at me with unmasked suspicion. “I’m sorry, but I’m still not clear on exactly who you are. Are you a captain?”

“The name’s Eddie LaCrosse,” I said. “I’m a private sword on a case.”

Fernelli looked at me as if I’d suddenly grown feathers. Apparently even ex-pirates looked down on sword jockeys. “What the devil could Wendell Marteen know that anyone could want?”

I smiled. “I’ll ask him when I see him.”

“You don’t seriously think he knows anything about Black Edward’s treasure, do you?” Fernelli looked at Jane. “And this guy’s with you?”

“No, I’m with him. You can talk to him just like you would me, Fernelli. But be more honest.” She winked at me. “He can tell when you’re lying. Eventually.”

Fernelli didn’t seem to like that idea too well, but he accepted it. “All right. The only thing for certain that was missing was the ship’s medicine chest. For all we know, the crew took it with them when they left. And if this had been a lone fluke, we’d have simply taken ourselves as lucky to have the clean salvage. But as I said, there’s been three others that we know of.”

“All missing the same thing?” Jane asked.

“Don’t know.”

“And there’s no sign of who did it?” I said.

“Oh, there’s a sign. A double
X
carved into the door of the captain’s cabin. But no one knows what it means.”

“When you say ‘no one,’ ” I said, “exactly who do you mean?”

He looked at me now with undisguised contempt. “I mean, me and everyone I know.”

Clift and Jane exchanged a look. Clift said, “I suppose we’ll keep an eye out ourselves, then. See if we can’t get as lucky as you.”

“Not sure if it’s lucky or not. Damn well creepy, that’s for sure. Be more’n happy to get this wreck back to port and my boots back onto an honest ship with no shadows, that I tell you.”

AS
we watched Fernelli row back to the
Mellow Wine,
I said, “What happens if we do run across one of those ghost ships?” “We do the same thing the
Randagore
did,” Clift said. “I’ll assign some men to sail her to port and claim the salvage prize. Although I’d hope that, with two trained investigators aboard, we might get closer to the bottom of things.”

“Only if you pay us,” Jane said. “Right, Eddie?” “Twenty-five gold pieces a day,” I agreed. “Plus expenses.” “Each,” Jane added.

Clift laughed. I looked at the
Mellow Wine
bobbing ungracefully in the waves and was secretly glad her mystery wasn’t mine to solve. The one I had was complex enough.

And of course, even a blind man could’ve seen where this was leading.

chapter TEN

When
I came on deck the next morning, the sky was cloudless, and the sunlight reflected off every ripple. The heat was already intense, and the ship’s distinctive odors felt renewed and strengthened. Even the breeze that filled the sails seemed muggy and rancid. As my eyes adjusted to the glare, I saw Quartermaster Seaton before me.

“Good morning, Captain,” he said with a jaunty salute.

“I’m not a captain,” I said in what had become our usual morning exchange.

“Any man who pays the bills is a captain,” Seaton replied with his standard half smile.

“Any ships pass our way?”

“A small galleon from Boscobel. Two Ilyrian warships going in for repairs.”

“Repairs? Is Ilyria at war again?”

“Didn’t stop to chat, so I don’t know. But it’s been six months, which is about all the peace they can stand.”

“No pirates or ghost ships?”

“Alas, no. But starting today, we’ll be following prime shipping routes. We could see action at any moment.” He gestured around him. “That’s why we’re putting on our best civilian frock.”

I’d wondered how such an obvious vessel could possibly catch an experienced pirate unawares. Now I saw: wooden boxes were strapped to the deck in a pile ten feet high, just as seen on the
Mellow Wine.
Since they were empty, though, they did little to slow us down and could be quickly cast overboard. Instead of the banner of the Anti-Freebootery Guild, we flew the flag of Klarbrunn, and beneath it the banner of the International Cargo Federation. Most significant, the deck ballistae were gone from their sockets, arranged in a neat row on the wooden deck. The ones below remained in place, though, and I knew the gunnery crew could have the deck crossbows remounted and ready to fire in minutes. I used disguises myself on occasion, and could appreciate the scale and effectiveness of this one.

Sweat trickled down my spine and forehead; I’d probably melted off ten pounds on this trip already. I excused myself, walked to the starboard bow rail, and looked down at the bow waves. The spray, at least, was cool on my face. Big fish leaped gracefully out of the ship’s path, only to circle back and repeat the move.

A man hung over the side, strapped in a harness, removing the brass letters that spelled the ship’s name. He saw me, smiled, and waved.

On one of my first days at sea, I’d asked Seaton the origin of the ship’s strange name. Far too loudly, he said, “Ah, so you be wanting to know why she’s called the
Red Cow.
She’s not always borne that moniker, though.”

He waited. So did every man on deck, grinning in anticipation. At last I played along. “What was she called before?”

“The
Impatient Cow.
Come on, lad, ask me why.”

“Why was she called the
Impatie—
?”

“Moo!”
bellowed every sailor from the open hatchways to the foremast crosstrees.

I sighed and shook my head. I was on a ship crewed by twelve-year-olds.