“No,” I said with certainty. “He would not have done that.”
“Let’s have some optimism, gentlemen,” Jane said. “I think it’s just bad weather.”
Clift nodded. “And bad timing.”
I looked back, where the fog was so thick, it hid the ship’s stern. There was very little wind, and we bounced over wave crests instead of slicing through them. Men lined all the rails, watching as intently as Clift, as if they, too, bore responsibility for the ship’s safety. The faces I could make out were serious, even a little frightened, with none of the jocularity they displayed even in the middle of a fight. I wondered where in the haze I’d find Duncan Tew; knowing we closed in on his hated father must weigh on him at least as much as the weather.
Suddenly the lookout cried, “Voices ahead!”
Jane looked at me. “Voices?” she repeated.
I heard it, too. It sounded like the crowd in a castle’s great hall after the wine started to flow. There had to be at least a hundred people talking all at once to make that much noise. I tried to catch some of the words, but I didn’t recognize the language.
I heard swords, knives, and cutlasses being drawn all around me.
“A few people left behind, my ass,” Jane said. “The little dung beetle did send us into a trap.”
“Steady, lads,” Clift said. He had not moved or reacted. “Don’t cut off your shipmate’s head in your eagerness.”
“It sounds like quite a crowd,” Jane said.
“Well,” Greaves said casually, “we may not know what we’re about to face, but then again, neither do they. Shall I summon Mr. Dancer?”
“Not yet,” Clift said. “We know it’s a bunch of people-we don’t know if they mean us harm. Steady, lads,” he repeated.
“Bottom at twenty!” the sailor amidships suddenly called. I felt movement through the deck as the rest of the crew scrambled into action. Sails were drawn up to slow us, and everyone without an actual task crowded around us to watch for land, and for whoever waited to greet us.
“I lost my sword to that overgrown squid,” Jane said.
“I’ve lost two,” I said. “I gave you a new one.”
“A toothpick,” Jane snapped dismissively. “I need something big enough for a full-grown woman.”
“Try this,” Suhonen said from behind me. I jumped, as always. The big man handed Jane a huge sword that I would’ve needed two hands to swing. She handled it easily with one.
“Nice,” she said with genuine appreciation. “Where’s it from?”
“No idea. Claimed it off a guy last year. He didn’t need it anymore. The balance is good for such a big blade.”
“I’ll say. But what will you use?”
He gestured at his waist, where he carried two normal swords in scabbards, one on each hip.
“You’re okay with two?” Jane asked.
He nodded, then smiled and winked at her. “Actually, there’s three. But the third one might startle you.”
She laughed in delight and experimentally swung the new sword. A couple of sailors had to jump back out of the way.
“Fog’s breaking ahead!” the lookout called. “Land ho! Really ho!”
“Look!” someone beside me practically shrieked.
We followed his outstretched arm and pointing finger. Two huge shapes emerged from the fog, gathering details as they did so, dark gray in the haze. The blue sky behind the island made these twin mountains stand out plainly. By the time we could see the jungle greenery that covered the two mountains, the fog bank was entirely behind us. Directly ahead lay a wide, gently sloping peninsula with a white sand beach, just as Marteen described.
“Drop anchor!” Clift called, and we heard the heavy splash followed by the chain’s rattle as it played out. When it hit bottom, the ship lurched slightly as it stopped.
We saw no one. Yet the voices continued, louder than before.
“There’s your welcome party,” Clift said, and pointed at several huge offshore rocks. They were covered with nesting seabirds, all squawking loudly in an uncanny imitation of drunken human revelry. Without the fog to mask it, the scent of accumulated bird dung reached us as well.
“Smells like a couple of parties I’ve been to, all right,” Jane said with a laugh. “Not on deserted islands, though.”
“It’s not too deserted,” Suhonen said. “Someone lives here.”
Clustered along the beach was a complex shantytown of small huts. As the fog dissipated, we made out gardens, pens for animals, and what looked like a small well located beside a common walkway. The dwellings were made of rocks mortared together with mud; roofs were mats of vines over old pieces of sail canvas. Pieces of ships poked out of various structures, as if the builders had cannibalized whatever vessels brought them here.
A long dock stretched out past the low tide mark. Three small boats were tied there, bobbing in the waves.
“No cooking fires,” Jane said about the dead chimneys. “No animals in the pens. This place is deserted.”
“I don’t think we can tell that looking from the safety of the forecastle,” Clift said.
“No,” I agreed. I looked at Jane. “Is your leg up to it?”
She threw her crutch overboard, winked, and said, “Try and stop me.”
“I think I’m ready, too,” Suhonen said.
Skurnick appeared from behind him. “I told him he’s not strong enough yet. You’re not a barrel, son. We can’t just plug the holes and pour more blood into you. Your body needs time to make it.”
“I’ve got a lot left,” Suhonen said. “And I’m as strong as I need to be, like always.” Then, more softly, he added, “I need to win a fight, okay?”
Clift looked at Skurnick. “I could use him. But I won’t go against your recommendation. It’s your call.” When Suhonen started to protest, Clift silenced him with a glare.
Skurnick sighed. “What the hell. If he says he’s up to it, maybe he is. Might be the best medicine.”
Suhonen smiled. “Thanks, sawbones.”
“You can thank me by not needing my attention again,” Skurnick said dryly.
Clift said, “Get a boat ready. I’m going, so is Mr. LaCrosse, so are Captain Argo and Suhonen. I want two other volunteers.”
“Try to keep me away,” Duncan Tew said as he stepped forward. He clenched his sword tightly in his hand, and the blade reflected sunlight onto his grim face.
Clift shook his head and pushed the sword blade until it pointed safely down at the deck. “Sorry, Mr. Smith. You’ve done great work so far, but I need a more experienced sword arm.”
I said, “He’ll do. I’ll vouch for him.”
Clift’s eyebrows rose, not so much that I’d stood up for Duncan, but that I’d contradicted the captain on deck. That was a no-no in any organi zation. I quickly added, “With your permission, of course.”
“Glad to know I still have some authority,” Clift muttered. “All right, you’re in. One more. Who’ll it be?”
A squat fellow with a barrel chest and arms that hung almost to his knees said, “I’ll come along.”
Clift looked at the man dubiously. “You’re volunteering, Dietz?”
He nodded at Suhonen. “I’m the only man on the ship who can beat him at arm wrestling.”
“And that’s only when he’s drunk,” Clift said. “But all right, you’re in. Mr. Greaves, is our boat ready?”
“Aye,” the new quartermaster said.
Clift gestured grandly at the ladder hung over the side. “Gentlemen, lady-shall we get our feet dry?”
The beach was silent except for the distant birds and steady crash of waves against the sand. We tied up beside the other boats, none of which showed any sign of recent use. If Marteen was right, and most everyone in the village had been aboard the Bloody Angel, then we were safe enough. He’d said that the ones left behind would be the sick, old, and/or infirm, but I wasn’t prepared to concede that.
We stopped at the foot of the dock, looking at the buildings and the jungle beyond them. Here the whoosh of waves on the beach drowned out most of the birds’ cacophony. A few hovered overhead, hoping we’d drop something edible.
