2. A Traitor In Our Midst.
The captain and I had just finished taking a delightful breakfast and were discussing various subjects, when the cabin door was violently opened by one of the Hirsch brothers. Reed, I think it was, burst into the room. The captain and I stood up, wondering what could possibly cause him to inter the cabin without so much as a knock.
"Captain, Mr. 'awkins," he began, looking pale in spite of his heavy tan. "There's been...a murder."
I could not believe my ears. Surely this was some kind of macabre joke. I heard the captain asking what I myself was wondering,
"Murder? On the Athena? Who was killed and what man is responsible?"
"I can't believe it meself sir," Reed answered. "It was the cook, found 'im this mornin' lyin' face first in one of them water barrels. Stabbed twice in the chest too. Come an' see 'im yerselves."
We followed Reed to the galley where most of the crew was, all looking shocked that something like this could happen on this ship.
The captain and I made our way through the crowd. Lying near one of the water barrels like Reed had said, was the cook, Daniel Mackey. I was tempted to look away, for the sight of that man, face bloated and blue, blood soaked down his front; took me back to the murders I had witnessed as a lad.
The ship's doctor, a small, round man, stalked up to the captain. "Been dead a while sir, maybe killed around midnight by the looks of things. Drowned first and then stabbed, I should say."
The captain's eyes blazed as he stood up from examining the body. "Mr. Hawkins and Mr. Bows please accompany me to my cabin." He turned to address the men. "Get Mr. Mackey ready for burial; the rest of you get back to work."
The mate and I followed the captain back to his cabin, where he shut and locked the door. He turned to us with a grave expression on his face. "I prayed something like this wouldn't happen, but it would seem we now have a murder on board. The question is—who is it?"
"Have any of the men been fighting lately with the cook? Maybe a trivial quarrel that could lead to murder?" I asked, looking at the mate.
"No," Bows replied, the displeasure the event caused showing clearly on his face. "They have been pretty good tempered as far as crews go. Wouldn't began to wager as to who the killer might be or the reason to target the cook."
"I don't like it, a murderer aboard the Athena." The captain swallowed, and I assumed he was most likely thinking back to the murders of his wife and daughter. "Men, until that murderer is in irons, none of us on this ship is safe. We have a traitor in our midst, and I fear this was only the beginning of the trouble he will cause. We need to be on guard at all times, and above all else, keep the crew from speculating among themselves."
There was a knock on the door, and no more was said about the murder. Peter had come to inform us of the fact that they were ready to send Mr. Mackey to rest. We followed the captain out on deck, Peter falling in step beside me.
"Sir," he began, "I was thinking since we don't have a cook, perhaps I could take over?"
"You can cook?" I asked, just a little surprised.
"Yes...sir. I think it would be a help if I did, take over for the cook I mean. The other men wouldn't have to change jobs."
I managed a slight smile, in spite of the circumstances. "I suppose it would. I think Captain Williams will be agreeable to the idea."
We all stood reverently to the side as the captain read a few words from the Bible. Then Mr. Mackey, wrapped in sailcloth and weighed down with stones, was delivered into his watery grave.
I could not bear the thought that the murderer was among us in that moment, standing with the rest to send the man he had so callously murdered to his grave. It was a dreadful thought, and it left me watching and waiting as if something worse were to happen.
That night, I knew it was no use to even attempt sleep. I stayed awake, for only when I was awake did the nightmares cease to torment me.
In the next few days, we were no closer to finding the murderer, and the crew—as well as myself—were becoming uneasy. Somehow the men had found out where we were headed, and I feared a recurrence of my past adventure. I went to talk to the captain about it.
"The men somehow know we are headed for treasure," I said.
"I did not speak of it with them," he replied, the smoke of his pipe filling the cabin.
I wished I had worded my remark with more care. "I did not mean to imply you had spoke a word of that subject to any of the hands," I quickly amended. "But, we are the only souls who knew where we were headed and I cannot help but to find it strange. Moreover, the men seem uneasy."
"Think, Hawkins, think," he said slowly. "We are headed for a island with treasure; we have a murderer on board whom might very well be anyone's mate. I have to admit, even I am uneasy. The faster we get to that Island and get back to Bristol the better, in my thinking."
"Yes," I sighed, leaning my head into my hand. "I am starting to think I was a fool to ever contemplate going back to the island. Countless lives were lost, and for what? Gold, treasure, money; call it what you shall, but all it ever leads to is bloodshed." I paused and looked up. "In all truth, I could leave the silver there to rot on that abominable island. If more men are to be killed and lives ruined, I would rather live my whole life with these nightmares."
"Hawkins, I cannot believe I am hearing this from you." The captain pulled the pipe from his mouth. "You, who came to me wanting to be free from the past. You were the one who made me realize I could do something useful with my life instead of allowing the ghosts of the past haunt me. I know I am free, and I think it about time you stopped thinking on the past and let go. Whether or not this cruise will rid you of your nightmares is completely up to you."
I thought on what the captain had said. Was this really all up to me? Did I hold the power of freeing myself from these dreams? I thought not. It had become so terrible; I feared to sleep, knowing I would awake in a cold sweat, a voice of the past ringing in my head. I spent the nights on deck in the cool air, thinking of the days when I was a carefree lad helping his parents run an Inn.
It was on one such night, another dreadful event occurred. I was attending my now nightly ritual of spending the evening out on deck; only for a very odd reason I felt in need of some companionship other than myself. The watch was always there, and the man usually quite glad of a little diversion to the long hours he was to be looking out over the clam sea. I made my way over to Tip, the young man having the watch that particular night. He was sitting straight back against a barrel, and I thought it very strange he did not turn as I came up behind him. I soon found the reason, for as I reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, he slid sideways, a butcher knife protruding from his chest. He was undoubtedly dead and by the way the blood still poured from the wound, I could tell it had not been long.
My heart pounding in my chest, I turned abruptly, only to see something else which would afterwards trouble me greatly. Sneaking back to the galley, half in the shadows was Peter!
Not taking time to think about what I had just witnessed, I dashed back to the captain's quarters, almost smashing his door to pieces with the way I banged it with my fist. He was up and unlocking the door in the next moment, the loaded pistol he had come to carrying, in his right hand.
"Hawkins," he said in surprise. "What the dickens are you doing man?
"It's Tip, he's been murdered!"
"What?" The captain didn't wait for me to explain further, he was already halfway across the deck. He knelt down beside Tip's body. "Get the doctor, we'll see if he can shed some further light on this."
I did as I was asked, waking the doctor, and I might add, by the noise the doctor made getting ready, the whole crew. Very soon all hands were on deck, each vehemently denying he had any part in the murder of his comrade. I for one did not know what to think. I went back to seeing Peter sneaking into the galley as if trying not to be spotted.
The butcher knife was from the galley.
I turned to Peter who was standing back with the rest. "That is a kitchen knife," I observed. "Did you happen to hear someone sneaking into the galley to take it?"
If Peter was in fact guilty, it did not show on his face. "That was missing before I took the job as cook," he replied at once. "Mr. Mackey was complaining he couldn't remember where he had placed it."
I stared at the boy, thinking it had to be the truth. After all, he was only just a boy—maybe seventeen at the most—and I couldn't bring myself to think he could be the murderer. But, if he wasn't, then who was?
We had another burial that morning, the same treatment being bestowed upon Tip as was given to the cook. Needless to say, the crew were talking among themselves, and I feared they would speak up about turning back to Bristol and getting ashore before any more of them were killed. I did not count, however, on the tactfulness of my captain and friend.
"Men, I know that you are all talking," he said in a friendly manner. "If any of you have a complaint or worry, don't hesitate to come to me about it."
There was a slight pause, then a shuffle of feet, before Tucker came into view. He took off his hat and held it tightly in his hands.
"Well cap'n, since ye said it thet way I'll tell ye. The lot o' us been talkin'," he admitted, twirling his hat nervously. "We ain't no cowards mind ye, but we don't feel comfortable bein' at sea wit a murderer aboard."
"I understand Tucker and I don't fault you," the captain said. "Now I'm not accusing anyone without proof, but I am going to point out the obvious. The murderer could very well be anyone on this ship." He paused, looking intently into the crowd of men. "Rest assured, this man whoever he is, will be caught and put paid for his crimes."
I was relieved the captain talked to the men before it became an open mutiny, for I greatly feared a uprising. This cruise was already reminding me of my last; two men having already been lost. This time was worse however, for though we (the captain, the mate and I) kept up an investigation, we simply could not fathom who could be behind it all.
As If we did not already have enough bad fortune, more was bestowed upon us, as you shall soon see. It was only the following morning, when the mate knocked at the captain's door. We both feared another message of bad news; I sincerely hoping there wasn't another murder.
The mate sauntered in, and I noticed with a bit of concern how comfortable he had become in the captain's presence. He did not salute as he made his report. "There's not a breeze of wind out there," he said, leading casually against the wall.
"No wind you say?" the captain asked. He appeared rather distracted.
"Not a breeze," the mate replied. I noticed he did not use the word 'sir'.
"Can you do nothing to keep us moving?" I inquired. I knew the answer, but I wanted to see just how the mate would react to the question coming from me.
The mate turned to me with his disapproving frown. "We are becalmed. I could send the hands out to pull us along at one or two knots, but I think that should be a last resort. I say we wait for the wind to decide when she wants to blow again."
As he was speaking, I happened to glance at the captain. He was going through the drawers of his desk almost frantically.
"Have you misplaced something sir?" I asked.
"You didn't happen to take the map did you Hawkins?" he answered my question with one of his own.
"No sir, I have not touched it since the beginning of the journey," I answered, puzzled. "I know the directions to the Island by heart, only reason I needed it was for finding the silver."
"Well then, I hate to say this," the captain said. "But the map has been stolen!"
Stolen! I went through the drawer myself just to make sure of his claim, but he was not mistaken. Neither of us had touched the map. It must be stolen.
The captain stood and marched out the door. Mr. Bows and I followed him as he made his way to the crew's quarters. Most of the men were lounging around, playing cards, or catching up on some sleep. When they saw their captain they immediately stood.
"I don't suppose any of you men have seen a map?" the captain asked.
'No sir' was audible from every man. I knew though every one of them might seem innocent, there was one that was the murderer and, I assumed, also the thief.
Captain Williams nodded. "Well men, I will still require a search of your belongings." He turned to the mate. "Carry on Bows."
The captain's search led to nothing, for the map was never found. I felt quite vexed. The very fact we could not find it suggested one of two things. Either the thief had hid it somewhere on the ship, or he had destroyed it. The second of which I was hoping very much not to be true. Perhaps once I set foot on the island things would clear, but for now my memory of the exact location of where we had left the silver was foggy.
"You will never get my treasure,
your death at sea awaits.
Just like many others who,
so foolishly tempted fate."
I awoke to a dark cabin, those strange words echoing through my brain. This time it had been Flint who had come back from past the grave to torment me. I had never set eyes on the famous pirate captain, but what my mind conjured up was enough to make me glad I never had. The man in my dream was nothing more than a rotting skeleton walking to and fro across the sea. He had smiled wickedly as he pointed out all the men whom he had murdered or whom had been murdered by others who sought after his treasure. They all floated face up in the sea, their bodies swelled and bloated beyond recognition.
I should never have attempted sleep. After the map hadn't been found in the crew's belongings, the captain, the mate, and I searched the whole Athena. With no results. I had been overcome with fatigue from the lack of sleep and I closed my eyes for a little rest. Unfortunately I was never awakened. I sighed, getting ready to go out on deck.
The sun had gone down, and there was not a soul on deck save the watch. I could barely make out anything as I strolled toward the galley. I grew nearer, and was surprised to find a light burning inside. I silently continued on down the stairs. I wondered about the light. Was Peter possibly be awake at this hour?
I made so far as the last step before I halted. I saw something, that for a moment quite robbed me of my movement.
Peter was there, standing to the side near a washbasin. He was giving himself a sort of wash, I supposed, though for a moment I was very much confused. Peter was a boy, so why in the name of heaven did he have a petite waist, and...
The stairs creaked, and I nearly jumped at the sound. I had no more time to think, for Peter turned, gasping at the sight of me. He reached for a cloth, placing it across his chest.
In that moment, I grasped what a minute before I had been too confused to understand. Peter was in fact a woman. I rolled that over in my mind for a second to make certain I fully understood. It did explain quite a bit.
"You're a woman?" I asked quietly. It was not as if I required any more proof, but I did feel as if I needed to hear it out loud.
"Yes I am," Peter said after a moment of silence.
I walked toward her, and as I did, I saw something that greatly added to the suspicions that were already rising within me. Lying atop the counter was the map.
I fear my honor left me then, for I caught up her wrist and pulled her roughly toward me.
"You had better start explaining," I said harshly. "Starting with your real name and why you were dressed as a boy."
She winced, and I immediately let go of her wrist, shame filling me. Whether she was a thief, murderer, or just a liar, she was also a woman. I was taught to treat them with respect and gentleness. Two things I had just now failed to do.
"Forgive me," I said.
She was staring at me, her expression guarded. "It was foolish to think I could keep this a secret forever," she finally said. "My real name is Panya Silver."