image [https://i.imgur.com/15eGPa6_d.jpg?maxwidth=520&shape=thumb&fidelity=high]
nippers – A number of yarns marled together, used to secure rope for the capstan. Also, an affectionate term for young sailors.
DOBBS COULD NOT sleep until they reached the cay. He would neither abide nor believe Abner’s speech against the captain, and so allied himself with the Ladyman as soon as he entered his cabin and heard that he and LaCroix were forming a plan and gathering men loyal to him. “I will follow you, sir,” he told the Ladyman. “To whatever end, I swear.”
“There’s a lad,” the captain said. “I needed only to hear that to know that no man or god can crush the Hazard. We are invincible as long as we have you. We will talk more of what must be done once we are ashore.” And that was that.
Dobbs’s heart was soaring. Though, after he left, he realized he would feel much better if he knew exactly what the captain had planned to stop the mutiny. As it was, he had no notion of the Ladyman’s full machinations, and possessed only a belief that there was one. If the captain is going to circumvent a mutiny of dozens of men, he must have the steps all mapped out.
Dobbs had seen mutiny before, none of them successful, and only one of them had come to violence. He had been with Captain Laurier two years now, and though he had heard the rumours that the Ladyman marooned men he suspected of planning a mutiny, Dobbs believed that rumour was false. And even if Laurier had done it, Dobbs believed he would have only done it in extremis.
Dobbs allayed his own fears as he stood at the portside rail, watching the small cay come into view. The night ought to have been darker. It would have been less troubling if it were, but the two moons lingered in the sky, near the horizon, and it was soon obvious to Dobbs that the stars were spinning more slowly. He had heard the mutterings of some of the men that said the heavens were not moving as fast as they ought. Night was lasting longer, and that devilish pink moon made everything hauntingly visible.
The waves pounded hard against the shore of the small cay, which had little to recommend it: little vegetation, and savage, unfavourable shores. Dobbs gripped the railing. His chest felt tight, and his heart was pounding. Knowing he had entered into a conspiracy with only a fraction of the crew frightened him. Part of him felt traitorous, but the other part of him, the part that saw the black sky and had no answers for it and believed only in the Ladyman—a man that had always protected him—said this was the only way.
“Abner!” called Laurier from the quarterdeck. The waves slapped violently against the hull, making it so he had to shout. “Hold the anchor a’cockbill until I tell you to drop it!”
“Aye, Cap’n,” said the quartermaster, walking up behind Dobbs. “Capstan bars, lads! Dobbs, you little nipper, get you over here!”
Dobbs obeyed without comment. But it was strange, for hours ago, Abner had caught Dobbs alone and warned him they were indeed in the Hellmouth, and frantically quoted Scripture and suggested Captain Laurier may be the cause of their plight. “Can I count on you to support myself and the other men, Dobbs?” the quartermaster had asked. “Can I count on you, lad, when we do what we regrettably must do?” Dobbs had only nodded, and the old man had clapped him on the shoulder and said, “I knew we could count on you, nipper. I’ve often said that I’ve seen godliness in your eyes, above most others I’ve ever encountered.” He felt bad about lying to Abner, because the old man had always looked out for him. But then, Abner ought never to have let the thought enter into his mind to remove the Ladyman from the captaincy.
For that must be what he is planning. Captain Laurier believes it, and now so do I. Oh Abner, you should never have let it come to this.
Dobbs, Isaacson, Jenkins, and two of the new African crewmen went over to the capstan and began turning it. Jenkins was showing the Africans how to do it, while the tall one, Akil, seemed to understand first, and explained it to the others. Dobbs’s eye was on Isaacson, standing at the bar in front of him. The man had a pistol tucked in his waistline. That was not terribly unusual for some of the men. Ever since setting sail from Nassau years ago, Dobbs had learned that pirate crews often walked about with one or two pistols primed and ready.
But not at night. Not while on deck. It was already in the air. There were now two separate crews aboard Hazard, one that followed the captain, and another that believed Abner’s theory.
Cold wind lashed at his cheeks and his one eye. Dobbs once more looked at the night sky, wondering if this was all a dream. Was this truly night? He was not so sure, but he also did not believe Abner’s insane whispered claims that they had somehow entered a portal into Hell. And even if we had, the Ladyman would know a way out. Dobbs judged all men against the Ladyman, and all men fell woefully short of even his shadow.
Above him, Tomlinson and six others were reefing the sails. The anchor dropped, they were now at a relative standstill, though they bobbed too much in water that ought to be much calmer than this. They heard the soft scraping below them. An underwater sandbar was where they would stop. Once the tide was low enough, Hazard would drop low in the water and would lean away from the cay, putting her in a canted position and exposing her underbelly for repairs. Two hundred yards astern, Lively was doing the same.
But will the tide be low enough for careening? he thought. It was a question on every man’s mind, surely, and he had heard it spoken as frequently as the rumours Abner was spreading. The waters were mighty choppy. Much choppier than one would expect for these winds. The swells were too high for it. And it did not help that that wind was so cold, and growing colder by the minute, unless it was just his imagination. Hell isn’t cold. Hell is hot. So we cannot be where Abner says we are. It was a boy’s logic, simple and direct, and it was all he held on to.
“Okoa,” said the Ladyman, striding past the capstan. “Prepare two boats. We will go ashore in shifts, and make sure the island is safe. It’s small, but there could be natives there, one never knows. Better to be safe than all of us ambushed by Caribs. Abner, you will stay here while I’m gone. The ship is yours.”
Dobbs was astonished. Perhaps as astonished as Abner himself, though the quartermaster tried to hide it. Secrets did not stay secrets for long aboard ships, and surely the quartermaster already suspected his words had reached the captain’s ears. At the very least, the Ladyman ought to expect a vote soon to remove him as captain. The undercurrent was felt by everyone. And yet, the captain now trusted Abner to remain on the ship while he, Laurier, went to shore? “Aye, sir,” Abner said, and stroked his chin.
He’s wondering the same thing I am. Is it a ploy? It was always difficult to say with the Ladyman.
“Mr. Dobbs, you’re with me,” said Laurier. “Bring a musket. Should there be any small game, I know I can trust you to shoot it, even in the dark.”
“Aye aye, sir. Just let me fetch it.” This part of the plan Dobbs had known about, and as he went below, he passed through the galley, where Stephens, having finally succumbed to his wounds, lay dead on a table, his eyes closed, arms folded on his chest. Mr. Cedar was over in the corner, weeping, clutching his Bible. But Dobbs did not think he was crying over the dead sailor. Dobbs had already seen a few of the men crying, their initial hope that Vhingfrith’s theory was true was beginning to fade—Cedar knows we did not sleep a whole day away. And in that moment, Dobbs knew it, too. But who cares? Captain Laurier has never steered us wrong. If anyone can escape the Devil, it’s him. His beliefs shifted according to whatever it took to stay faithful to the Ladyman.
Still, it was terrifying to think that this was all some unnatural phenomenon. He summoned what was left of his courage and went to his bunk to grab his musket, as well as his bags of powder and shot, and ran to join the captain on the longboat. An hour before, when he was in the captain’s cabin, Laurier had told Dobbs he wanted him to come ashore with his musket, but he had not said why. Was it really just to shoot small game, as he now claimed?
The waters were almost as hazardous as they had been in the storm, they foamed and heaved like a leviathan was beneath the surface, though there were no clouds, no powerful winds. What winds there were were cold. Near frigid waters splashed over the gunnels, and Dobbs gasped in shock from it, and shivered as he and the boys rowed. Captain Laurier stood at the bow, gazing at the little island, his balance as steady as a statue’s. Dobbs ground his teeth as he worked his oars, his musket tucked tightly between his thighs. He looked to the west and saw two longboats labouring as they embarked from the Lively. The privateers were going to meet them on shore.
Nothing was right about any of this. Where were the harsh winds and clouds that ought to be accompanying waves such as these? I want you to get mad, and snarl, like a mad dog, his mother used to say. Whenever you find yourself overmatched or scared, snarl like a mad dog, and growl, and fight!
Dobbs growled. The others glanced at him, but kept rowing.
As they approached shore, it became obvious that the tide was going too far inland. The cay was mostly sandy, with about a hundred square yards of greenery at its center. But the tide was reaching well into the thickets of grass and acara bushes. There was a single Mayaguana tree, its branches fanning out wickedly with the fading light of the two moons behind them.
Dobbs looked at the sky. The stars are moving too slowly. If this is truly night, and the sun is merely yet to rise, then something else has happened. Night is lasting too long.
A splinter of doubt embedded itself in his mind. Just how wrong about everything was the Ladyman…?
They made it to shore and hauled the longboat up and every man’s teeth were now chattering as they clutched themselves and huddled close to share warmth. Someone built a fast fire, and they kept throwing on twigs and branches to keep it going. They even lit the Mayaguana tree to generate as much heat as possible. Dobbs imagined that, seen from afar, their tiny little cay shone like a beacon.
Captains Laurier and Vhingfrith watched the fire awhile, then walked away and huddled together, along with a few of their lead officers. Dobbs found a place near the growing bonfire and made sure all his equipment was dry, lest he load his musket with a damp charge. Satisfied, he loaded and primed it and walked over to join Jenkins, who stood near the bonfire rubbing his hands together. Every man’s breath came out like dragon’s smoke. It was growing unbelievably cold.
What is happening? thought Dobbs. His young mind was reeling, and yet, unbeknownst to him, being young meant he was more capable of accepting great upheaval than the other men, so set in their ways. Some part of him had started recognizing this aspect of his personality. Youth can adapt, while those with too much life experience tend to cling to what’s familiar, and have a more difficult time when new phenomena contradict those experiences.
Someone walked by him and tossed him a dry blanket, and Dobbs held it close to him. Jenkins was talking to him, gesturing to the waves that reached higher and higher up the shore, emphasizing the word unnatural again and again.
Jenkins was his friend, so Dobbs indulged him for a time, but eventually he had to start walking. Walking kept him warm inside his blanket.
But he never walked too close to the tide. He did not trust it. It was in such a loud tumult, the foaming waters roaring to a degree one had almost to shout to be heard. The men kept having to pull the longboats farther inland, to ensure the tide did not carry them back out. The tide, like black fingers, kept reaching out to him. There was a dark invitation in each thrust of the waves, and an awakening in his soul warned him it was only going to get worse. It’s so unnatural. So very, very unnatural.
Snarl at it like a mad dog.
“Dobbs!” someone cried. He spun and saw Tomlinson waving to him. “Captain’s askin’ for you!”
Dobbs was off. He ran up alongside the Ladyman, who was dressed in men’s clothes; a black long coat and grey jerkin, with boots and petticoat-breeches. His face was still painted like a lady’s, though. Somehow that gave Dobbs reassurance, seeing the Ladyman was not so concerned about their predicament that he forgot his vanity.
“Dobbs,” the captain said. “There you are. Stay near me, I may have need of you soon.”
“Aye, sir.” Though, Dobbs could not imagine what the captain could possibly have need of him for. Not out here, not in this situation. And the tiny island clearly had no game to speak of, so it seemed bringing the musket had been for nothing.
“—and so we can almost be sure that we will not be able to careen,” Vhingfrith was saying. Other officers were leaning in with faces lined with concern, blowing into their hands to keep them warm. A dozen of the Hazard’s crew were present, all with unblinking, fretful eyes, and they couldn’t take those eyes off the half-Negro. “Two moons will have this effect, perhaps permanently, perhaps not. The seas will be tormented for as long as there are two moons in the sky—”
“I thought yeh said it was an illusion!” shouted Walker. The former Londoner had a look that told Dobbs he probably now wished he had never joined the Royal Navy, never fell in with pirates, never left England.
“Well, I’m telling you now that it was a fabrication,” Vhingfrith said evenly. “A little lie, told to keep lesser men from falling apart.” He waited for that to sink in with everyone present.
Dobbs looked to see if there would be a mutiny here and now. Assembled from the Hazard were Tomlinson, Walker, Jenkins, Anne Bonny, Owens, Jaime, Okoa, Reginald, and four other men he barely knew. One of them was a mute Irishman that Dobbs knew was lethal with a pistol. To him, they all seemed upstanding, but he had been wrong before. For example, he once believed Isaacson’s groping was innocent play, until he very nearly fell victim to the man’s perversions.
Everyone was waiting for Vhingfrith to continue. Though he must be cold, the Devil’s Son showed no signs of suffering the wind. His composure was as impeccable, Dobbs thought, as Laurier’s. The Ladyman appeared stolid and stern as he gazed severely upon his men, his very demeanor commanding them to keep their courage. Perhaps that was also what kept some of them from tearing Devil Ben apart. That, and the person standing behind him. Behind Laurier, almost as if she was hiding, was Anne Bonny, who studied a pistol in her hand like it was every bit the oddity the sun’s disappearance was. But Dobbs knew both her presence and position were no accident.
“The truth is,” said Vhingfrith, “I sold that story to the men I thought weakest of mind, and those of you here, now, are those Captain Laurier and myself felt had the most wits about them. The clearest thinkers from both Lively and Hazard.”
“What’re yeh sayin’?” asked Jaime. “That there’s nae more sun?”
“One thing at a time, Jaime,” said Bonny. They all looked at her. She never looked away from the pistol in her hand, like a clinician encountering a new disease, meaning to understand it.
Laurier nodded for Vhingfrith to continue.
Dobbs glanced back at the huge tree, engulfed in flames. And now men were opening casks of rum and either drinking it or throwing it into the fire. He looked at the tide; it encroached farther up the shore, almost reaching the longboats again.
“No doubt you have all recognized the slowness of the heavens,” Vhingfrith went on, pointing to the stars. “If the moons are in fact real, and not a shared delusion, then it explains the slow turn of the Earth.”
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“What?” Jenkins blurted. They all looked at him briefly.
Vhingfrith sighed. “I could give you the source of my reasoning, and the wiser men’s knowledge that I am drawing from—suffice it to say the speed of the Earth’s rotation, according to minds much greater than my own, is partially dictated by our moon. Or has been, for untold ages. But now that there are two moons, they may create a kind of friction against the attractive forces that govern the heavens.” Lively’s captain looked at each of their confused faces. “The good news is, this may indicate we still do have a sun—it may only be on the other side of the world. The Earth is merely taking longer than usual to get back around to seeing it, because this new moon is slowing us all down.”
“No lie this time?” asked Tomlinson. “Is this the very truth?”
Vhingfrith’s face indicated he was summoning all his patience. “I apologize for my previous deception, sir. But if we want to survive, we have only one imperative now: trust in this circle here. The men standing here. And one lady,” he tossed over his shoulder at Anne, who never acknowledged him. “We alone can keep our small world afloat.”
Once more, Dobbs looked at their group of conspirators; Tomlinson, Walker and Jenkins, all gifted seamen; Bonny, a fighter; Owens, the navigator; Jaime and Okoa, very decent linemen and fine fighters; Reginald, the cook; the other four men were good carpenters, he seemed to recall. Just enough to run a sloop, perhaps. On Vhingfrith’s side, though, there were even less men, and the half-Negro’s brig was larger than Hazard.
Laurier seemed to read Dobbs’s mind. “There are a few more shipboard that are loyal to me. Mr. LaCroix, for instance, gave me most of your names,” he said to his people. “And LaCroix is currently aboard the Hazard to ensure our quartermaster does not sail off and leave us. We also have our helmsman, Mr. Kepler, on our side, and a smattering of others. All in all, I’d say we have a bit more than half that will follow us. Captain Vhingfrith here has conducted the same ploy on his ship.”
“Which is?” asked Reginald, stepping forward eagerly. His huge belly nearly bumped the captain’s. “What is this ploy, exactly? What’s it for?”
“We needed a place to convene so that we could all decide what we are going to do, away from the eyes and ears of those who are just now beginning to conspire against us,” said Vhingfrith, pointing at Hazard and Lively, both bobbing in the turbulent water. “So, we brought you all here to discuss this matter.”
“Why didn’t we send them ashore?” said Jenkins, “and leave ourselves shipboard?”
“Because,” Vhingfrith explained, “that would have seemed too obvious to those already paranoid beyond all good sense. They would have suspected they were being marooned, especially after…” He trailed off. To Dobbs, it seemed Vhingfrith did not want to speak to the rumour that Captain Laurier, standing right beside him, had marooned almost his entire crew three years ago. “We all have to decide now, so that when we return to our vessels, we work uniformly to overtake them. We lock what prisoners we must in the holds and in the bilges, and if they resist…well, you know what to do.”
“Kill our own men?” Walker hissed.
“Only those as cannot be trusted and refuse to submit themselves to chains,” said the Ladyman. “We will promise them release once we reach Royal.”
“What about the rest of the men?” Dobbs said, pointing to the twenty or so fellows warming themselves by the burning tree. Its flame was already starting to wane, and beyond it, the two moons were finally vanishing below the horizon. “Do we just leave them stranded here?”
“They will be given a chance to submit, just like all the others. We will let them know that as long as they submit completely, without any violence, their shares will still be intact and the treasures we’ve plundered together shall still be divided evenly, just as we all swore.”
Dobbs cast about at Vhingfrith’s allies. He realized the bald first mate, Jacobson, was not among them, nor any of the other major officers. So he asked the obvious. “How will you take control of the Lively with so few?” Dobbs was young but not stupid. Being a brig, Lively would have at least sixty men aboard her. Far too many to overpower with just a dozen or so men on Vhingfrith’s side. “That is, begging your pardon, sir, but it all seems much too delicate.”
Vhingfrith answered, “I have seventeen more aboard the Lively that I know I can trust. I have not approached them all with this plan, for I did not want word to slip out, but my helmsman is one of them, and he assures me those others are on my side.” He added, “If only because I am the one most gifted at navigating these waters, they will choose to follow me. They do not love me, but they also do not believe we are somehow condemned by God. They will trust me to get us to Port Royal. Right this minute, that is all I need.”
“Then ’ow do we do this?” asked Jaime. “ ’Ow exactly does this play out?”
Laurier and Vhingfrith exchanged quick glances. “Those of my crew here,” Captain Laurier said, “will go aboard Hazard with me, and we will make our intentions known. We make our pronouncement, and see if Abner and his followers obey. If they do, all the better. If they do not, then I’ll invoke the Eighth Tenet, to try and avoid too much bloodshed.”
“The Eighth?” said Reginald.
Everyone stood silent and listened to the wind. The Eighth Tenet was only invoked to settle a score between two pirates who could not suffer the other to live. A duel that could only end in death. And once it was done, no vengeance could be lawfully taken by the dead pirate’s friends.
Dobbs looked gravely over at Jenkins, who only shivered and shook his head like he did not like any of this. But Dobbs knew he would go along, if only because his loyalty to the Ladyman nearly matched Dobbs’s own.
“Abner will not fight you,” said Tomlinson. “He can’t. He’s almost a cripple.”
“No, he won’t fight me,” said Laurier.
“Then he’ll elect someone to stand fer him,” said Walker.
“Most likely.”
“Who d’yeh think he’ll ask?” said Jaime.
Laurier sighed. “Let’s not worry about that until the time comes. Right now, you have your orders. Go retrieve the rest of the men and tell whichever ones you trust what is about to happen. Those who are against it are to be marooned here, so they may not warn the others aboard the ships—we have the guns, so they cannot stop us. Then we push the longboats back out,” he said, looking at the waves, still reaching higher up the shore, “and both our crews sail back to our respective ships. A shot will be fired from the crow’s nest and a lantern lit at the stern to signal that it is done.”
They all nodded and said their ayes and then moved away to obey. When everyone was gone, Dobbs lingered by the two captains. He was shivering. His breath now came out in larger white clouds as he asked, “Captain, a moment?”
“What is it, Dobbs?” said Laurier, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Sir, I only wanted to know…why did you have me come along, and why did you have me bring my musket? I do not believe it was to hunt game.”
“Very astute, young nipper.” Captain Laurier waved to Anne, and told her, “Light the lanterns.”
She nodded and walked away.
“Come with me, Dobbs.”
The captain led him to the far eastern side of the cay, well away from all the flames and men getting drunk on rum. They walked through the night, through tall grass that whispered conspiratorially all around them. The night grew even colder, more ominous. He wondered where the Ladyman was taking him. At last, the captain said, “Right about here should do.”
“Excuse me, sir, what will do?”
“Tell me, Dobbs,” Laurier said. “How far do you make the Hazard’s quarterdeck from here?”
Dobbs blinked. “Sir?”
“Let me be plain. Can you shoot a man on deck from here?”
____
Spare a lament for Abner Bartholomew Crane. It is not the fault of any man the century in which he is born, nor the times he faces, nor the rearing that his mother and father, for better or worse, provided him. Before he was killed, Abner was doing what he always did: he was seeing to the crewmen under his care. He was a pirate, true, and had been for well over a decade since forsaking England’s shores. Or rather, he would have said, after England forsook him. But during his days of piratical activities, there was scarce a man but what found his company pleasing, even medicinal. We might even say his actions towards his men at the end, his love for their care and safety, is commendable above all.
Abner did not know what was waiting for him when he saw Captain Laurier set out for the small cay on his longboat. Had he the Ladyman’s knack for intrigue, he might have guessed it. But Abner bore the Ladyman no ill will, not truly. Indeed, even after he had spoken to Laurier and Vhingfrith with such acerbity in the cabin, and condemned them as sexual deviants and devils, he felt great sorrow for treating the captain so.
He is like all of us, Abner mused, as he limped around the quarterdeck, gazing at the stars. The cold wind made him shiver, and he clutched his long coat close. The captain is only made of flesh, as am I, as are all these precious souls. We stray. We sin. Will his sins weigh the scales down any more than my own?
Abner left Kepler alone at the quarterdeck and limped down the stairs to check on the men. He didn’t know it, but it would be his last patrol. Some men were working to remove frayed pieces of rope and mix them with tar to make oakum. He patted them on their shoulders, asked if they needed anything. He went belowdecks to check on Mr. Cedar, and to his horror found the man had opened his own veins with a knife. Abner discovered this by lanternlight, and under normal circumstances would have cried for help, but the surgeon sat slumped against a wall, beside young Stephens, also dead, and he looked so calm.
The deep-red pool that spread around Cedar’s chair ran in all directions—the heavy leaning of the deck had sent the puddle every which way. Cedar’s eyes were open, and Abner set his lantern down and took the time to close them. He said a prayer, asking God to receive Cedar’s soul as he received all His children. “Judge not his weakness, I pray, O Lord,” he said. “For we are all stuck in a quagmire like no other. He failed Your test, but please, I beg, judge him softly. He saved more men than he ever killed, I know that much. But only You know his heart, O Lord.”
Abner wept. The tears were not just for Cedar, but for all of Hazard’s crew. Once more he begged God to take his soul, to accept it in return for the safe passage of the rest of the men. “I know I have been wicked, O Lord,” he said, pacing and wringing his hands. “This is not the life You would have had for me, nor I for myself, if I had been honest and true to Your Word.”
He laid a hand on Cedar’s head, knowing the surgeon had taken the route Abner himself would have taken, were he not afraid of eternal damnation.
And it is for that reason I must lead these men out.
Spare a lament for Abner Bartholomew Crane. He was not an evil man. Bad at times, of course, but never evil, never relishing in wickedness. Every act he committed was done so because of a weakness he acknowledged in himself, and wanted desperately to rebuke and exculpate. Down through the years, he found a place for himself on many ships, always seeing to the men and their needs, sensing that somewhere in all this business he would find a way to bring them salvation, and therefore achieve it for himself.
He tried.
When he returned to the quarterdeck, he informed Kepler, “Cedar is dead. He opened his own veins.”
Kepler looked away from the wheel. At all times a helmsman’s eyes and hands should be on the wheel, lest a rogue wind or sudden squall materialize that could endanger the ship. A helmsman could only step away when he was relieved of duty. But now Kepler gazed at Abner, and a question passed unspoken between them. Are we going to see more suicides?
I think yes, Abner mused.
They were in the Hellmouth, he had no doubt about that now. And there was only one way out. The Ladyman, bless him, would have to be hobbled in chains and thrown in the water. The Devil’s Son, too, would have to go. They can both go together, so they’re not afraid. Abner nodded. He dreaded the look on Captain Laurier’s face when he went under. Abner nearly wept again, nearly wept for Cedar all over again and the rest of the crew and the Ladyman and even the goddamned Frenchman.
He saw movement, and looked around to see Akil and the other Africans coming up from belowdecks. They all seemed to look at him a moment, as if wanting to ask a question. He wondered if they could be converted to his cause. He had heard that Negros on plantations were accustomed to the Christian faith. Perhaps, he thought, this is a test for all of us. Abner smiled. Yes, this could be his true test. Why, even the Negros could be baptized, and brought over to the Lord’s Army when this nightmare was over.
Spare a lament for Abner Bartholomew Crane, who, despite having committed murder, still held on to a sliver of his youthful innocence, an innocence that told him God’s work could still be done here. His upbringing led him here, his superstitions reinforced by others with equally cruel upbringings and equally unlucky lives. The Scripture was where he derived sustenance, and where he found true anchor. The decision he made to turn on the Ladyman was made not out of hate, but out of love for all the men, and all he wanted was for them to be safe, and for his own soul to find redemption through their redeeming.
Abner was about to go and begin talking to the men he knew he could trust, to prepare them for what must be done when Captain Laurier returned, when he noticed more lights appear on the cay. The tiny island’s tree was already lit up, but that fire was dying down, and now two small dots of light appeared on the eastern side.
A hand touched his shoulder. Kepler said, “Abner, do you mind looking over the rail there? I fear we’ve heeled too much and may be about to scrape. And check for barnacles, would you?”
Abner looked at him. Perhaps he registered the deceit in the helmsman’s eyes. The sadness. If he did, he mistook it for fear of the Hellmouth. “Of course, Mr. Kepler,” he said, and limped over to the portside rail and looked down into the black water.
The two moons lit the waters unnaturally. Abner tried to see the seafloor. He spotted nothing unusual. Then he looked back to the fires lit on the small island, and he thought he saw dancing. Touching his crucifix, he smiled, suddenly warmed by the feeling of fellowship. All at once, he realized what a fool he had been, for Captain Laurier might be a sinner, but look at the way he brought all the men together. Just look at all of them there on the island, dancing, laughing.
Something hissed and bit at the side of his neck. A second later, he heard what sounded like the distant crack of a rifle. Abner reached up and touched his neck, thinking, Odd for mosquitoes to have reached this far from the island—
Something hot poured down his clothing. His hand came away from his neck covered in blood. He felt along his neck again, and found the hole that had sliced his jugular. The bullet had grazed him.
While he struggled to understand, other things transpired that he never saw. Akil, who had been primed by Okoa to act as a contingency in case Dobbs’s shot missed, had come up to the quarterdeck when the two lanterns were lit on the island—that was the signal the Ladyman prearranged. Kepler had permitted the African access to the trapdoor just behind the wheel, which led down into the galley. Abner never knew whose hands it was that grabbed him and threw him overboard. He felt the cold wind rushing past his face, and let out a small whimper, and when he plopped into the cold, heaving waters, he sank fast.
Akil vanished, unseen as a wraith, back down the ladder. Kepler closed the trapdoor and waited a moment to make sure no one had seen. Perhaps a few had heard the crack of the musket coming from the island, but it was so distant as to be negligible. After a moment, he took the bucket of water beside his wheel and used it to wash the former quartermaster’s blood over the side of the deck.
A few more minutes went by before he shouted the alarm, “Man overboard!”
Men came rushing to the stern when they found out it was Abner who had tossed himself overboard after mumbling something to Kepler about how he had offended God. LaCroix suddenly appeared, and claimed he had seen it all, too, had seen Abner weeping after he saw Cedar’s suicide, and had gone up to the quarterdeck looking despondent before throwing himself over. In LaCroix’s back pocket, there was the knife he had used to slit Cedar’s wrists, wiped clean, and safely tucked.
In mere moments, what men had been ready to toss Captain John Laurier overboard and follow Abner Crane suddenly had the wind taken from their sails. There was confusion, shouting. If anyone suspected the conspiracy, they didn’t say. One man leapt weeping into the water, saying he was desirous to be with Abner, to steer back on God’s path. Three others followed him. LaCroix and Kepler let them go. They merely needed to keep the confusion going a while longer, until the remaining crew were only too glad to welcome back Captain Laurier.
____
Dobbs lowered the musket, and looked over at Captain Laurier. “It’s done, sir.”
“You’re certain?”
“I saw him fall into the water.”
“I’ll trust your eye. You know, you are a singular young man, Dobbs,” he said, ruffling his moppy hair. But perhaps he noticed Dobbs’s mood. He was still knelt there, his rifle locked against his left shoulder. Laurier reached down slowly and took it. “I know it’s hard. I know you admired him, and I know that he respected you.”
Dobbs shrugged. “It had to be done, sir. Like you said. It was him or us.”
“Of course, you’re right. But that doesn’t mean it won’t…ah, what matter? Let’s not dwell on it. Let’s get in the boats and get gone from here. Benjamin!” he called. Vhingfrith was not far away, he and his people were getting their own boats ready to return to the Lively. Some of the men on the island that had heard the musket fire were shouting now, asking if Dobbs had bagged him some kind of game. Laurier’s subtle plan had worked, no one on the island suspected, and as far as Dobbs could tell, no one aboard Hazard saw a thing who wasn’t supposed to.
The Devil’s Son came walking over, and Laurier said, “It’s done.”
“Good. Well, then, once you are back aboard your ship, you know what to do.”
“Yes.” Laurier hesitated. “I can’t press you to let me come with you to the Lively?”
“I can handle my own crew, Captain,” said Vhingfrith. “I imagine it will be put to a vote, and Jacobson will be leading it, but I believe I can sway enough votes my way. Just hope that your story of Mr. Crane’s demise holds you to Port Royal.”
“It will.”
“Then I’ll see you there.” He glanced down at Dobbs. “Excellent shooting, young nipper.”
“Thank you, sir.”
"A dark deed that needed doing."
"Yes, sir."
"Nothing to do about it now, no need to cry over it."
"No, sir."
Once they were back in the boat, Dobbs rowed in a kind of malaise. A melancholy overtook him, and he was glad to be at the back of the rowers, so that he could hide his tears.
Halfway to the ship, the wind kicked up more fiercely. He glanced over the gunnels, and wondered what Abner had seen when he fell into those black waters. He wondered if the seafloor had changed as much as the sky. He remembered something from his distant school years, something his teacher had said about a man named Hermes something-or-other saying, “As above, so below, as within, as without, as the universe, so the soul.”
He looked at the queer sky. As above, so below. The voice in his head sounded like Abner.