Crimes by Moonlight

If Townsend hadn’t been watching his companion closely, he wouldn’t have seen the delicate shudder that traveled down the man. Perideaux said, “Felicity, oh, Felicity,” and he grabbed hold of the railing.

At first Townsend could perceive nothing except the inky night and the roiling waves. Then he saw the outline of a ship. Within seconds, the vessel seemed to glow and solidify. Three masts pointed to the sky, and brass rails glimmered underneath canvases that billowed, tickled by the wind. Shadows walked the deck. She floated nearly a league in the distance, without lights, without substance.

A gurgling sound came from Perideaux’s throat, and he whispered, “The Dutchman.”

Townsend heard him, but couldn’t stop watching the phantom ship that appeared to fade away until the moonlight pierced through her, and then she became distinct once again.

FROM a porthole I watched as Madagascar slipped away into the distance. Already, a hot sun reflected off the sea, obscuring the city with so much brightness that the smoke-shrouded shacks and fishing boats blended to gray, leaving just a suggestion of civilization behind the foam-capped waves.

My cabin was on the leeward deck, only a few paces from the captain’s quarters and those of the passengers. Through the portholes blew a fragrant breeze, bringing the suggestion of frying sausages and the calls of the sailors as they worked high above in the rigging and swung from spar to spar. The LeHa

I’d determined that my cabin door would not open. Presumably because it was locked. However, I had no trouble hearing footsteps on the wooden deck approach and stop just outside.

Through the porthole, I could see most of my guard in profile. The newcomer confronting him was a tall man, nearly my height, scholarly and pale.

“We’re pleased to have you aboard, Dr. Perideaux,” said the guard.

The trick to observing someone without staring and causing them to turn and stare back is to look a bit off to the side. In this instance, I watched the sky just beyond Dr. Perideaux’s large ears. There was no mistaking the steel in his voice.

“Are you? Is that why you feel it necessary to brandish a musket around my family?”

The guard replied, “I’m sorry you feel that way, sir. But I have my orders.”

“What orders? What do you have to guard? I just sent Felicity back to the cabin for her safety.”

“I’m sure your daughter will find something to do there,” the guard said.

Dr. Perideaux pointed at the cabin door. “I demand to know what is in there.”

“No one is to enter this cabin. And no one will.”

With a clatter of boots, Captain Hume arrived wearing a wide smile and insincere eyes. Perhaps Dr. Perideaux noted the captain’s eyes, for his tone did not change.

“Captain, what is in there?”

Although a short man, the captain did not shrink from the doctor’s aggressive stance, nor did he raise his voice.

“Please calm yourself. I’m sure you do not want to upset your wife.” The ship’s bell rang thirteen times for the hour, drowning out his next words. “… simple matter. We have charge of a prisoner. He is to be dropped off at Victoria Island tomorrow.”

“Why is he up here with the passengers?” Dr. Perideaux demanded.

“Why is he not kept below with the crew?”

I enjoyed Captain Hume’s slight hesitation. How would he put it? Would he tell the truth or prevaricate?

“Doctor, I have specific orders that the prisoner is not to have contact with a living soul. He has to be separated from the crew.”

The doctor stared at the captain. “Why?”

“I ca

Dr. Perideaux rubbed his chin and frowned. “No, she is not. The baby is due shortly.”

“All the more reason for you to join her. Perhaps with a cup of tea?”

A rain shower visited the ship with the lightest touch. The LeHa

The last few days had marked the end of summer in Madagascar, and I’d grown tired of the food and lack of good lager. On balance, the muggy nights were warm with scents made more pungent with the heat and promise of whatever I could find in the bohemian quarters. When we reached Seville, it would be autumn, and the bougainvilleas would still bloom in veils of brilliant color. I had no intention of being dumped on Victoria Island like a rancid bag of potatoes.

The penal colony on Victoria Island offered little besides hard labor and the most notorious criminals for company. The sharks that circled the island did so knowing that there would always be another convict swimming toward the sun, tiring… and then succumbing. I shuddered delicately and resumed my reading.

THE dulcet sound of snoring filtered through my cabin door. I arose and moved to the porthole to watch my guard as he slept. The full sun, a satisfied belly, and the repetitive motion of the waves had lulled him to sleep against the wall of the cabin. Or it could have been something else? Perhaps dropped into his plate of stew?

A young girl approached from the stern. She wore her red curls tied in a ribbon that matched her dress of robin’s egg blue. She was probably eight years of age, but checked over her shoulder with the furtive-ness of a well-seasoned Singapore pickpocket. If I interpreted her smile correctly, she seemed content with what she saw.

As she passed by, I said, “Hello, poppet.”

I

“Up here, my dear.” I unlocked the door. It would be a simple matter to lock it again if the guard awoke and became curious.

She stood under the porthole and squinted. “I can’t see you. Who are you?”

Such a sweet little lamb. Where was her na

“My name is Celwyn. Would you like to come inside?”

The child hesitated but a moment before stepping over the legs of the sleeping guard.

By the time she’d opened the door, I’d moved to the far corner of the stateroom and sat behind the petite drop table common to all sea cabins. It had been a while since I’d been around a tiny person, but she would most likely be less intimidated if I was closer to her level. The child poked her head inside the door, noting my traveling trunk with its mysterious contents visible to a curious eye and finally myself. I must have passed a childlike test, for she came inside, leaving the door ajar. Perhaps she felt more afraid of her parents finding her than she was of me.

If you wonder why I did not venture forth from my unlocked cabin, it wasn’t time yet to do so. Crafting a perfect situation from raw elements is so much more entertaining than being tossed about by random acts of fate. Or shot at by pistols.

“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.