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
“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
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