Cast In Dark Waters

Some pirates were so wealthy they were able to custom-build their galleons and run a crew of two hundred men. However, most favored the smaller Chinese style of vessel, which resembled a large junk-three masts with four-sided sails of bamboo matting and spacious quarters for the Captain and his family-with room for ten or twelve cannons.

The San Muy Malo was a variation on this basic model, with regular sails and a huge hold for extra cargo. Crimson liked the ship-it only took a crew of twenty and was easy to handle. It had recently been dry-docked and the keel scraped of barnacles and tarred against sea worms. She knew several of the men already and was in good standing with them. Captain Hedrick proved to be a course little snippet of a man but his reputation was of fairness and that's all she asked for. The price of rental was as steep as she expected but she didn't bother to haggle. It wasn't her coin. Let Maycomb argue if he wanted.

He didn't. He and his wife arrived on time at the docks and unlike most of the rich wayfarers, they carried little excess baggage. Crimson and Welsh watched them board and each became tangled in private thoughts for a time.

"You're in a dark mood this morning, lass," he said.

"Just hoping they find what they expect.”

“But you think not?"

"I think there's regret and heartache in store."

"He may be a bit toplofty but he's no fop," Welsh said. "His back isn't bowed. Carries 'imself well and so does she, for that matter. Neither makes a complaint. That's rare where their breed is concerned."

"You sound as if you respect them."

"In a fashion, I suppose I do." Welsh shrugged and scratched at his beard, found something alive and squirming within and flicked it out. "At least they've brass and money for this crusade, however foolhardy it may turn out in the end. Kin often get to meddlin' about where they ought not to. A long way to come for a daughter of age, I'm thinkin'."

"If only we all had parents so obligated and devoted."

He surprised her by letting out a guffaw that shook him down to his boots. After all these years he was still trying to cover his embarrassment about not caring for her mother at the end. It ate at him, she realized, and she hadn't helped matters. She should let it rest, if she was able. Welsh gave a stupid grin and said, "There's a storm lookin' for us."

"There always is."

"Let's do what we can so it'll not be findin' us."

"Too late, I fear," she said.

It took him back. "Now why ye be sayin' that?"

"I dreamed of Tyree again last night."

He became genuinely irritated at that and brought his fists up as if to strike her. His one eye burned with frustration. "Not that nonsense again, girl! It's time to be done with it. You've gone months without any proper sleep. He was a good man but he's forty fathoms dead now. You've listened too much to slaves' chatter. The rest of that twaddle is all in your 'ead."

"Maybe so."

"Come on now, let's board and get this trip over with. I've an Irish lass in St. Christopher's who'll be missing my company till I return."

"How much does she cost?"

"A tidy sum and worth every bauble I drape at her feet."

They boarded with their gear and kept mostly to themselves for the first day. On the second they chose to dine with the Maycombs and drink a bit with Hedrick and his crew. The rum helped keep Crimson's dreams at bay. Afterwards, she and Welsh remained together in the bow, watching the horizon and seeking the ghosts waiting up ahead. He could sharpen his sword for hours on end and found some sort of solace in it. They had nothing but calm seas and clear afternoons, brilliant moonlight at night, and a demon wind filling their sails.

On the third day, a storm rose from out of the south and struck the San Muy Malo with vicious swells. The black burgeoning clouds became threaded with silver and lustrous bone. Lightning ripped the skies and left glowering afterimages behind. Hedrick and his men had their hands full keeping her steady and bucking the savage winds. Rain thrashed and the heavens turned a muddled scarlet as coiling shadows glided across the waters. Twice men cried out that they'd seen mermaids off the starboard bow. A harpooner stood ready.

Welsh kept rubbing at his eye patch as if the thunder were getting inside his head. The riggers kept busy with the tangling sails and Crimson and Welsh helped out on deck working the lines. Elaine Maycomb was sick for most of the day, but her husband stayed up top asking if there was anything he could do to be of assistance. There wasn't, but Welsh had been right, Maycomb was no fop.

The harpooner threw twice but came up with nothing. You could hear his curses above the storm throughout the entire ship. Maycomb kept an early watch and Welsh relieved him. The gale continued through the night but ended abruptly on the afternoon of the fifth day. Benbow Island came into sight and Hedrick and his crew set adrift a mile and a half offshore.