Crimes by Moonlight

by Charlaine Harris

  “Please sit down,” I said to my new friend.

  She took several steps and then flounced into the chair across from me. Up close, I could see some of her father in the intelligent eyes, but her beauty would come from her mother.

  “Who are you? Why are you alone in here?” she asked.

  “May I call you Felicity?”

  A miniature jaw dropped open. “How did you know my name?”

  I gestured toward the deck outside. “Your father mentioned you.” How many other children named Felicity would there be on a cargo ship on its way to the Cape?

  “Oh.” She studied me for a moment like her mother would peruse a menu. “I suppose that would be all right.”

  Rather verbose for a little one. She eyed me with the inquisitiveness of a young cat. To her, I would appear similar to any other gentleman she would encounter: strong of face, whiskered, and dressed in a linen suit and brocade waistcoat. Not as many men would wear a ruby on his finger such as I wore, nor savor the aroma of a particularly obscure and fine tobacco that I’d stashed in my trunk. Very few men were as feared as I, which was a pity; I am misunderstood most of the time.

  “Would you like something to drink? Milk?”

  Felicity nodded assent, and then frowned. “I don’t see any milk.”

  “Look around. I’m sure you will,” I said.

  Her eyes traveled the rather small room, and when they returned to the table, a glass of milk sat before her. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

  “Help yourself,” I said.

  Felicity touched the glass with a fingertip and then drew it closer until she could sniff the contents. With a lingering look of doubt upon me, she drank. Half of the milk remained when she licked her lips and asked, “Where did you get this?” She looked under the table. When she sat up, the glass was full again.

  The girl blinked rapidly, and then her eyes darted from object to object in confusion. She asked, “How did you do that?”

  I smiled. “Do you always believe only what you can see? Or do you believe in things you cannot see?”

  Her eyebrows nearly touched as she thought. “Only what I can see is real,” she answered.

  I pointed to the glass. “Is the milk real?”

  “Of course it is, silly.” To prove it, she drank more milk, all the while keeping her eyes on me. My, my, such suspicion. When she replaced the glass on the table, it was once more full to the brim.

  For several moments she stared at the glass before daring to look at me. “How did you do that?”

  I shrugged and asked, “What is in that pouch?”

  She had placed a velvet pouch on the table when she joined me. At the mention of it, she didn’t hesitate to open the strings that closed it and dump the contents on the table between us.

  “These are my jacks. This is the ball you play jacks with,” Felicity said.

  She tossed the ball, which was about the size and color of an apricot, into the air, and caught it again. On the second toss, she deftly picked up several of the tiny metal stars scattered on the table. “Do you know how to play?” she asked and without waiting for a reply added, “Of course, you have to pick up all the stars and not lose the ball.”

  With that admonition, Felicity threw the ball into the air again. It hung, suspended between us, above her head. Her eyes grew as wide as her little face. Before she could cry, the ball descended again. Slowly.

  Her hand automatically reached for the metal stars. Felicity squeaked and stood up. The stars had become tiny frogs made of the finest crystal. Even in the muted daylight, they reflected light delightfully.

  “Oh, my!” the child exclaimed and gathered them into her hands. The ball bounced off the table and into my trunk.

  I ushered Felicity to the door. The pouch of crystal frogs was clutched in both of her hands. As I reached for the door handle, she asked, “May I come visit you again?”

  “Certainly. But only if the guard is asleep. This is our secret.” I placed a finger to my lips. By the time we reached Seville, I might even have a young apprentice to teach some less sinister magic tricks to.

  Felicity put a finger to her lips and then slipped out the door with a giggle.

  The ship’s bell had sounded the next hour when boots thundered on the wooden deck. Voices raised the alarm. Above the commotion, Captain Hume’s oaths could be heard outside my door: “Damnation! Wiggins is dead! Get that doctor out here.”

  “What for?” It sounded like a sailor located in the rigging above me. He apparently had an excellent view of my newly departed guard. “His throat has been cut open like a pig’s.”

  Sounds of more of the curious arriving, then the extreme annoyance of Dr. Perideaux when he saw the body.

  “Captain!” Dr. Perideaux bellowed.

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “This man is not sick. He has been murdered.” The doctor’s voice shook, and his words were measured. “You are responsible for every act upon this ship!”

  “I am aware of that,” Captain Hume replied with just as much control.

  “Did your prisoner do it?” Dr. Perideaux inquired.

  I noted a significant hesitation before the captain answered, “That would be impossible.”

  Someone tried the handle on my door. It remained locked.

  “How do you know your prisoner is in there?” Dr. Perideaux demanded.

  “Because I am sure he is,” Captain Hume said. “Here ... is the key to the door. As you can see, it was still in the guard’s pocket. However, I will humor you.”

  I yawned and waited.

  As the door opened, the dying sun streamed into my cabin, bringing warmth against the approaching evening. The captain filled the doorway. From over his shoulder, the doctor peered inside.

  I put down my book and stood. “Come in. I’m afraid I cannot offer you any refreshment but my company.”

  Dr. Perideaux’s curiosity won out. He pushed by Captain Hume and into the room. I had been correct. We were of the same height, well over six foot. Our builds were similar too; I could have traded waistcoats with him. Mine, however, would have been finer than the rather dated one the doctor wore.

  I bowed. “May I introduce myself? Jonas Celwyn, lately of Singapore and Madagascar.”

  Captain Hume kicked the door shut and advanced to stand between us. He removed his hat, revealing a glistening sheen on his balding dome. A bead of perspiration trickled onto his ear.

  “Doctor, this is not wise. As you can see, the prisoner is still here. He is in a locked room from which he could not have murdered the guard. Come along, please.”

  “What were you charged with, sir?” Dr. Perideaux ignored the tug on his sleeve as he addressed me.

  I shrugged. “If I were to list all of the nefarious crimes I’d been charged with, we would still be here long after the dinner bell.” A few minutes ago I’d caught the scent of roasting beef. Hopefully there would be a nice salad to go with the meal, and possibly a fine bottle of wine.

  “I repeat, what were you convicted of?” Dr. Perideaux’s tone sounded much colder than a Bavarian street in winter.

  Captain Hume gave up tugging on his sleeve and yanked open the cabin door. He gestured to one of his officers. “Johnson. Come in here. Escort Dr. Perideaux back to his cabin. Now.”

  The doctor didn’t budge. He stood so close I could see the flecks of gold in his irises. The stubborn line of his lips indicated the crew would have to carry him out before he’d accede to the captain’s order.

  “Get him out of here,” Captain Hume growled.

  Officer Johnson reached for Perideaux. The officer started to speak, but his words turned to a strangled gasp as his hand passed through the doctor’s forearm, not once, but twice.

  As Dr. Perideaux watched his sleeve in fascinated horror, I replied, “Something so ridiculous. Witchcraft.”

  A supremely talented and creative magician would have been a more accurate portrayal.

  MY assessment of the goo
d doctor had been correct. He was a persistent cuss. It couldn’t have been another hour before I became aware of the doctor in whispered conversation with my newest guard. I didn’t even have to lean against the door to hear them.

  “... have items you’d like to buy when we reach port,” Dr. Perideaux said.

  The guard grunted. “Course I do.”

  “Perhaps this would prove useful to you?”

  “Aye, it would. It sure would. For this much you can sniff around this bastard’s door for more than a moment.” The guard laughed. “I have to go to the head, and I’m sure I’ll be gone awhile.”

  In a moment I heard a slight scratching sound outside the door. From the porthole I could make out the lower half of the doctor as he crouched beside my door. It appeared he was examining the door hinges.

  BY the next morning, the day brought stronger wind and vigorous waves. The LeHanna climbed them easily, bottoming out, and climbing again. On the western horizon purplish, opalescent clouds seemed to be gathering in a thickening haze. Interesting; I hoped we were not sailing into a storm.

  We passed Tila dunmati a little after noon, and within the hour the fate of the ship changed. It began with a warning call from the crow’s nest. Another ship approached, sailing directly toward us.

  The general excitement aboard the LeHanna increased with the terse orders shouted from the bridge, bringing the ship to. The lad in the crow’s nest called down, “Dutch flag, sir. Fully armed.”

  Most provocative information; I wondered what they wanted with the LeHanna?

  Nearly a half hour later, our ship slowed until she floated in the waves in an exaggerated rocking motion. If this kept up, I surely would be seasick.

  The other ship adjusted their course. They no longer rode the wind but drifted off our leeward side about five hundred feet away, edging closer with each swell of the waves.

  Our crew grew silent. It seemed like our ship held its breath, waiting. At last, Captain Hume barked an order. But it was only to the crew to man their positions and await his orders. From my porthole, I could see him standing midships, near the railing. He said something to First Officer Greer at his side. Officer Greer saluted and in seconds had marched to my cabin and accosted my guard.

  “Open the door,” Greer ordered him.

  The guard held the door open with one hand and trained his pistol on me with the other. After the murderous incident with my last warder, the procedure for guarding me had changed. Now, they brandished a pistol, not a musket.

  Greer entered my cabin and glanced around before saying, “Gather your things, Celwyn. You’re leaving.”

  “Where am I going?” I asked.

  “No questions. Either pack your things, or you’ll leave without them.”

  WHEN I emerged on deck, two more guards gripped my arms, and another lugged my trunk. As I walked, I reveled in the sun and drank the fresh air like a newborn calf.

  During the time it took to pack my belongings, a boat had been launched from the other ship. It contained six crewmen and a man who was obviously their captain. He sat at the rear of the boat, examining the LeHanna with an air of ownership. Between the bulkheads and in the rigging of the other ship, dozens of muskets were trained on the deck of our ship. Why hadn’t the crew of our ship reacted? The crew numbered less than thirty, and they were lined up at attention, not at battle stations.

  With his officers flanking him, Captain Hume stood in front of the bridge, arms folded, feet apart. His officers maintained a stern stance, but their eyes bounced everywhere. The tension in Hume’s officers increased as the other crewmen left the rowboat and scampered up the rope ladder. They attained the deck and walked toward Captain Hume, ignoring the rest of the LeHanna’s crew. I strode over to the bridge and joined them.

  “No restraints? I no longer frighten you?” I held up my naked wrists to Captain Hume.

  He didn’t quite look at me, but said, “Be quiet, you ruffian. If necessary, Greer will knock you out to insure your silence.”

  I had a good idea of what Captain Hume was up to. And an even better idea of what he deserved.

  As the crewmen swaggered toward us, I studied their captain. Perhaps forty years of age, with strict bearing and well-tended whiskers, he was a barrel of a man. Solid muscles and apelike arms swung at his sides. He shoved one of the LeHanna crewmen out of his way, and the rest parted without chancing contact with him.

  Up close, the most innocent blue eyes swept over Captain Hume and his officers. Taking his time assessing the ship, the man noted each doorway, the bulkheads, the shining brass fixtures, and other evidence of care in the ship’s maintenance. He’d assume the ship had a good larder, and even more profitable machinery stored below. Finally, he addressed us in a baritone with the faintest of Dutch accents.

  “I am Captain Falkenburg of the Sibylline.”

  A simple statement, but out of the corner of my eye, I spied Captain Hume wetting his lips. A bead of sweat trickled from under his hat and ran down his collar. If it hadn’t occurred to the rest of the crew, it should have: this appeared to be a pirate ship flying under the innocence of a legitimate flag.

  Captain Falkenburg turned on his counterpart. “What are you carrying?”

  Sweat began pouring down Captain Hume’s pudgy cheeks. Beyond him, the deck of the Sibylline swarmed with dozens of pirates who had not been visible before. They watched the LeHanna silently, evidence of strict discipline. Captain Hume flicked a quick glance at them and then addressed the pirate captain.

  “Spices and sugarcane. Nothing more.”

  “Nothing, Hume?” The pirate smiled broadly, and I could see he’d been opening wine bottles with his teeth. More of interest: I wondered who else noted that we’d had a chance encounter with a buccaneer who happened to know Captain Hume’s name.

  Several of the LeHanna’s officers shot swift and speculative looks at their captain. He didn’t return them but swallowed several times without speaking.

  Captain Falkenburg laughed, and the sound seemed to chill the crew of the LeHanna. Wide-eyed, every one of them stared at their captain. With Hume’s next words, some jaws dropped, too.

  “Our agreement is still good. I have what you want,” Captain Hume blurted. He looked at me, nearly in the eye, and added, “I also have another token of good faith. A prize of sorts.”

  “Eh?” The pirate captain picked his teeth with the sharp point of a blade, spat, and then regarded Captain Hume with his brows up.

  Undeterred, Captain Hume explained, “Mr. Celwyn here is the cousin of the British ambassador to Portugal. Surely, you can ransom him. He was to have stopped off for a short time on Victoria to assess conditions there. They won’t miss him for several extra days. Perhaps weeks.”

  I turned on the bastard. He wouldn’t look at me. Ah. Plainly dear Captain Hume was letting me know that I could have my freedom if I went with the Sibylline or be dumped on the penal colony on schedule—if the LeHanna survived this meeting.

  Captain Falkenburg didn’t seem impressed. His glance rested on the cabins below the bridge. “This can’t be all you have, Hume.”

  Most anxious to please, Captain Hume nearly curtseyed like a matron in front of a queen. He assured the pirate, “Oh, no! You will receive what I promised you. One moment, please.”

  He turned to his first officer. I caught parts of his whispered instructions, enough to know that the crew of the LeHanna would trade Dr. Perideaux’s family in exchange for their lives. Apparently, the doctor had something the pirates wanted.

  First Officer Greer wasted no time gathering a contingent of crewmen and marching over to Dr. Perideaux’s cabin. It was then that I decided to allow myself to be transported aboard the other ship; I must protect my new apprentice, after all.

  MORE than an hour later, the doctor, his family, and I were removed to the Sibylline. I did my best to reassure Felicity and carried her aboard the pirate ship while the doctor helped his wife. In a billowing pale blue dress, Mrs. Perideaux a
ppeared angelic and as fragile as a porcelain figurine. She maintained a white-knuckled grip on her husband’s shoulders as he steadied her on deck.

  We huddled together and watched as the pirates used ropes to bring our trunks up to the deck. With hungry eyes divided between the woman and the trunks before them, the pirates hovered close by. Their stench competed with the foulness of the ship. Mrs. Perideaux clung to her husband, and the child buried herself in her mother’s skirts and whimpered.

  I squatted beside her and tapped Felicity on the shoulder.

  “Poppet, we must be brave. And quiet.”

  One tearstained blue eye chanced looking at me, and then she buried her face in her mother’s skirts again.

  I said, “Remember the crystal frogs?” Without turning around, Felicity nodded. I placed a hand on her shoulder, and her whimpers subsided. “Just wait,” I added softly before standing once more.

  AS the last of our trunks were brought aboard the pirate ship, the LeHanna made sail, looking to gain yards swiftly in the growing wind. We watched her for a moment before Captain Falkenburg turned his attention to his captives.

  Standing at Captain Falkenburg’s elbow, and surveying the rest of the pirates with distain, stood a scarecrow of a man as pale and cold as death. When I saw his eyes, I inserted myself between his line of vision and the family.

  “Well,” Captain Falkenburg said as he circled the trunks at his feet. As the wind whipped around us, seeming to grow stronger by the moment, the pirates straddled the yardarms and unfurled sails. The boom swung to the left, creaking with the weight of the masts.

  The scarecrow murmured something in Falkenburg’s ear. The captain smiled with approval. “Excellent, Borodin. Blast her.” Borodin crossed to the pirates by the cannons, gave orders, and in a moment returned to join our party.

  Captain Falkenburg’s expression caused the doctor to step back. “Tell me. Where is it, Doctor? Save time, save your family, and just tell me.”

  Dr. Perideaux grew paler, and the stubborn set of his jaw weakened, but he didn’t speak.