Ed Gorman - Cast In Dark Waters

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.

Ragged and rocky and much smaller than Crimson had thought, it rose like a raging stone fist from the sea. She kept hearing splashes but could sight nothing in the dark waters: no sharks, dolphins, barracuda or manatee. They cast nets and came up with almost nothing. The Captain approached and said, "We're here. The skiff has some provisions but not enough for a lengthy stay."

"Don't worry, we'll set sail again by mid-morning tomorrow."

Hedrick's eyes nearly glowed with relief. "Good, I'd forgotten how little I liked this part of the ocean."

"My first time down this way."

"These waters cause fever, I'm inclined to believe. Nothing good's ever come from this place, so far as I know." Leaning in close, he touched her shoulder and parted her hair to speak directly in her ear. "Row to the far side and wait in the shallows. Whatever you've been asked to do, say you were unable to do it, take what coin you can, and let's be off."

"Captain, I'm only here to bring a message. I've failed in my missions before but I've never quit and run."

"You've never had an assignment like this one before, I'm sure."

She leaned back against the mast, the breeze clawing at her hair. "That's true," she admitted. "And I'd prefer never to have another."

"That's a hellish hunk of rock out there. Villaine was a damn fool to base himself upon it. The only way to reach the village is to go through the jungle to the west, up along the bluff. The area's all stone, they say, with a lengthy set of steps carved into the volcanic rock itself."

"Have you been on isle?"

"For sod's sake no, what reason would I have? Before Villaine there was nothing here but a skinny tribe of savages, bands of slave-traders, bloodshed and a mess of stewing rumors and hearsay. I've trouble enough in the civilized nations without this lot. He keeps two armed guards that are rotated every eight hours, I've been told. No doubt they're all bunglers. You can't keep a steady watch in this sort of heat. Most likely you'll find them sleeping."

"Somebody stopped Maycomb's agent."

"Ah," Hedrick said, "he's probably shacked with one of those primitive girls, the lucky bastard. They got ways to woo a man and make him feel like a king, wearing nothing but grass skirts."

Crimson nodded and made her way back to the bow. Welsh waited there, still pulling gnats and lice from his beard. He asked, "Are ye gonna send the Brit off on his own?"

"I told him I'd do so."

"That's not what he hired ye for though."

"Maybe not, but I gave him my conditions before we left Port of St. Christopher's. He agreed to them."

Welsh stared over the side, where the mermaids had supposedly been spotted. "You've your own course to follow."

"Don't we all."

"Ain't it the truth."

He looked at her closely but said nothing more. His hands seemed steady but hers felt weak and quivery. They faced into the wind and caught sea spray as the ship rocked and creaked. The anchor chain clapped against the hull. It might've been a fair evening any other time. Air rushed past and fluttered their clothing. The rains had churned the depths and dredged the rotting bottoms, and the stink of dead fish was heavy in the breeze.

She turned and went below deck, greeted some of the mates in passing, then stopped before the Maycombs' small cabin and knocked lightly. Elaine Maycomb answered and moved aside without a word, her fingers flapping against a blue kerchief that danced and snapped.

Her husband was cleaning his pistol with a rag soaked in oil. He rose and said, "Lady Crimson."

"Mr. Maycomb, the other day you asked if I'd ever been in love."

"Yes, and I apologize for my ill manners. I never should have broached such a subject. Forgive my impertinence."

She shook her head. "Not at all. You've obviously heard of the recent loss of my husband."

"I have, and I'm terribly sorry."

"Please explain to me what you were told. I fear that certain chatter may have sullied my standing."

Elaine Maycomb appeared as if she might exit the room. She released the kerchief and it swayed and spiraled as it dropped to the floor. Rats squeaked nearby. She placed her hand on the door latch but only to retrieve some object hanging from the handle. It was a chain with a dangling silver cross.

"When I learned that Daphna had fled with Villaine," Maycomb said, "I questioned a number of my colleagues both in the States and back in Britain for any information about him. We learned of his personal history, his criminal escapades, and of Benbow's renown."

"All of this must have been rather startling, to someone of your ilk."

"We were terrified for our daughter, as we mentioned, but I was prepared for what I must do. Our confidential agent mentioned your name in passing as someone that he, or perhaps we, might want to contact if he initially failed in his task. I suspect he was quite dismayed about going up against Villaine and his men. He knew a privateer such as yourself, who handles odd commissions and matters like this, would be much the wiser in these circumstances. That's proven to be the case. I should have listened and never sent him in alone."

"You're of the opinion that he's dead.”

“Yes."

"But what were you told of me specifically?"

Maycomb replaced his pistol oil and rags, then took out a whetstone in preparation to sharpen his sword. "That you had lost your husband less than a year ago." He didn't hold back in the least, and there was no embarrassment in him as he spoke. "That he was the victim of the Loogaroo, the Blutsauger, in these waters where demons and the ghosts of slaves still wander."

Crimson stepped across the small room to the porthole. There was another chain with a silver cross hanging there, protecting the opening from evil spirits trying to force their way inside. Perhaps Anu, mother of gods, was kept close to Maycomb's heart for a reason, whereas sweet baby Jesucould flit all about the place. The fading sunlight caught in the metal and gleamed red and running.

"And do you believe that?" she asked.

His voice dripped with the kind of sorrow that only men who've lost a great faith ever know. "Even in the hills and backwoods of Virginia I've seen strange things I'm not likely to repeat. As I mentioned, I spent a great portion of my childhood in Scotland, and heard tales of the Boabhan Sith. Two men in the village I grew up in were supposedly taken by the beast. I've no reason to believe these stories are lies. One of the men was my very own uncle."

Elaine Maycomb, perhaps serving her only role in this conversation, once again managed to force herself to say that which Crimson could not utter. " Daemonia Wampyros."

Crimson's fingers began to twitch so she grabbed tightly to the hilt of her cutlass. "To be honest with you both, I don't know what truly happened to my husband Tyree. His ship was sunk by a raiding vessel not far from Benbow and the scuttlebutt that's traveled back to me has apparently trafficked much further as well. The yarns play upon my dreams."

"Have you searched for him?"

"No," she said. "A sailor's life leads to the bottom of the ocean. That's the fate for all of us. If you hunt the dead they might pursue you in turn. Worlds tend to meet in places such as these. In the Caribbean we see even more oddities than you might in Virginia, Mr. Maycomb."

"Of that I have no doubt." He withdrew a leather pouch and opened it before her. "Here, I thought we should finish our transaction before landing in the morning." The diamonds he poured into her cupped palms seized the dusk and dropped into her hand like clotted blood.