Cast In Dark Waters

"Piracy is a near noble calling compared to tenure in the British Navy." Crimson should've held her tongue and not interrupted the man as he related his story, but the subject caused her grief whenever it was brought up. "That war cost the Empire a lot of good men, however you look at it. Between those that've died and those who've run off, I'd hope old Queen Anne is vigilant enough to stay her hand from other foolish skirmishes."

"It's my hope too."

"Pardon my outburst. Continue."

Maycomb crossed his knife and, fork in his empty plate and glanced over at the other men in the hall smoking after-dinner cigars and pipes. He licked his lips for the taste of it, and Crimson was surprised he didn't have a tobacco pouch. Someone must've stolen it aboard the Hopewell. The smoke drifted and twined across the crystal chandelier, and she thought of her nightmare again, the vapored breath breaking against Tyree's chin.

Keeping his voice firm but hushed, Maycomb said, "We did not know of the affair until after he and Daphna set sail for the Yucatan. I admit that my somewhat stolid ways, as well as the great distance between us, allowed for such an impressionable girl to fall for so worldly a figure. I should have kept closer watch on her. I've really only myself to blame."

"No more reproach falls to you than to myself, Trevor," Elaine Maycomb said, and placed her hand atop of his.

"How did you learn of all this?" Crimson asked.

"We hired a Fleet Street investigative agent named Widdins to set upon the case. Villaine wasn't so difficult to trace, though he and Daphna had been rather discreet, considering. Still, a girl has need of sharing her excitement, and she confided in various friends of hers at school. Widdins fell to tracking them and kept in contact with us via other agents. He mentioned that Villaine and Daphna might have taken refuge on the island of Benbow."

Crimson drew breath between her teeth. She tried not to react but her fingers spasmed against her glass and sent a harsh note ringing all across the room. Welsh had to be her father-in times of pressure, her hands often shook. She looked up from beneath the heavy curls of her hair. She tongued the spot where she'd bitten through her lip last night.

"Little more than two hundred miles south of us," she said.

"Have you been there?"

"No, but I know of it. Almost everyone in the Bahamas does. Did your agent land on Benbow?"

"He was supposed to do so, but we never heard word again. We don't know if he was killed by Villaine or other pirates, fell to disease or, in truth, what may have happened. Now that we've come so far and come this close to our daughter we refuse to abandon our obligation."

"She's just a child caught up in these worldly ventures," Lady Maycomb said. "Please aid us if you can. I must see my Daphna again, if only to hold her one last time and say goodbye."

Crimson rested her hands in her lap and shook her head. "This isn't my sort of affair."

"Pardon?"

"She's of age. If she wishes to be with Villaine then that's their decision. I see no reason for you to interfere or for me to intercede."

Maycomb finished his wine and ordered another bottle. His wife stared glassily at him but he ignored her and continued drinking. "I understand your reservations, and under normal circumstances I wouldn't dare ask you or anyone to aid me in this matter. However, we've received other disturbing news from friends and colleagues in these waters.”

“About Villaine?"

"That and…other concerns."

Crimson said, "Name them."

"You know of Benbow's notoriety."

"Yes," she said, "as I said, everyone does in these waters. They say it's a cursed island. Particularly among the slaves and South Americans you'll find such prevailing stories. Benbow has a malevolent reputation. The myths go back hundreds of years, I'd guess, but saw a new resurgence a decade or so ago. A ship full of Africans coming in from Ghana was burned there by a trader angry with his competitors. Some sixty captives were burned alive and a few, supposedly, didn't die. They were taken to the depths by the devil. In hurricane season they're stirred to the surface where they set about and feast on men."

Maycomb had obviously heard the tale. He may have been a proper Brit but she realized he had a superstitious streak beneath his lordly exterior. "And what do you think? Is it only a grand legend?"

"Not so grand. I'd say Villaine might have chosen a better place to put in. Quite possibly he settled there to take advantage of its unfavorable repute. It would help keep strangers away. Whether government officials or other buccaneers who might attempt to sack him."

"In the West Indies, there are those who believe in beasts known as the Loogaroo."

Crimson willed her fingers to stop trembling and poured herself another glass of wine. She tried not to swig it and hoped to appear calm. She had perfected a stony countenance long ago, but now she could feel the facade about to crack and slip. "Go on."