And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
"I don't understand," buzzed the ship. "What do you mean?"
"What happens if we don't do what you want?" repeated Jane, saying each word slowly. "What if we say no?"
"But you will not. Because if you do, you will suffer the consequences."
"What consequences?" pressed Jane. "Or is that just an empty threat?"
"You will do as I say," said the ship smoothly, "or I will kill you."
The devil suddenly stood up, realisation spreading across his face, and went around the table to be next to Jane. He smiled. "Go on then. Do it." He looked down at her, and winked. "Try and kill me."
"Fine," said the voice, not changing its tone at all. "I am the ship: I control the crew."
The double doors swung open, revealing the massed ranks of the crew, in all their varied uniforms and sailing kits. They were also showing great variety in the weapons that they were pointing at the three in the room. For a historian of naval weaponry, it would have been fascinating.
"I am your captain!" growled the Dutchman, pushing the table aside. "Drop your weapons!"
They raised their weapons a little more threateningly. Jane looked into the faces of the crew members that she recognised – the Belgian, the Englishman, the fisherman – and realised that their eyes were all unblinking and glassy. None of them were in control of their movements; they could not be reasoned with.
There was a rattle as antique (and not so antique) guns were cocked. Some of the older sailors waved cutlasses, knives, and, in one case, a rolling pin.
Jane took a deep, frightened breath. Which reminded her of something. Glancing back at the captain and the devil, she jerked her head towards the crew in the doorway.
"Come on," she said.
The pair of them looked at her in confusion. "What –" started the devil, but Jane had already broken into a run.
She sped towards the wall of sailors, heavily armed, ready to fire, and she hoped and hoped that her little piece of intuition was going to prove correct –
The crew fired.
Jane simply ran through them, the ghostly weapons posing no more of a hindrance to her than the ghostly bodies of the crew (though she couldn't help feeling that she'd got a nasty bruise from that rolling pin…). She turned back around to see the crew still staring into the cabin, apparently mystified as to where she'd gone.
With a sudden 'pop', the devil burst through the back of one of them; then the captain through another.
"Oh…" hummed the ship. "My mistake."
There was a lurch as the ship stopped moving and dropped down. The light flashed upwards, and the blackness followed it. A moment later, it was replaced by the regular darkness of night, and they were bucking up and down on the turbulent sea.
As the ship rocked from side to side, objects detached themselves from the side of the deck: barrels, spars of wood, and even cannons. These rolled around across the deck, cutting towards the three of them.
Jane shrieked as a large chunk of wood came flying her way – the captain tackled her to the ground, and it sailed harmlessly over the top of them. The pair of them scrambled up and out of the way of the iron cannon lumbering towards them. Jumping to the side, they watched as it went past them and hit the other side of the ship with a solid crunch, splintering the wood.
A little distance away, the devil was performing similar acrobatic dodges of loose material. A rope coiled around his ankle, and he was hoisted up towards the mast. Thinking quickly, Jane lunged forwards, grabbing a shattered sliver of metal that had been wrenched from the fixtures of the deck by the weight of the cannon, and slashed across the rope. Lucifer fell, but only a short distance this time, and with very little theological consequence. He picked himself up, rubbing his head, and nodded briefly in Jane's direction. Then the ship rocked back the other way, and everything came crashing back from the opposite side.
Jane looked desperately across at the Dutchman. "Is there anywhere that we can go where there isn't –" She ducked out of the way of a swinging hook "– a risk of being killed? Is there an empty part of the ship?"
He thought for a moment. "At the bow," he said, running down the deck. Jane and the devil followed him, bracing themselves against the movement of the ship, which was now tipping forwards. There was a rumble behind them. Jane glanced behind to see the mass of material sliding towards them.
With a little gasp, she pushed herself to run a little faster. She reached the steps at the end of the deck and ran up them onto the forecastle. She was about halfway up when the captain and the devil leaned down and pulled her off the steps and onto the platform. She looked back to see the heavy objects of the ship smashing into the steps, reducing them to powder.
Breathing heavily, Jane pulled herself to her feet. They were right at the front of the ship.
"Couldn't we just jump?" she said. "We're on the water."
The Dutchman shrugged. "Go on, then. Try it."
Jane frowned at him. With a little screwing up of courage she stepped onto the edge. She thought for a moment and conjured up and air bubble. She looked over at the churning grey water. "Uh, actually –"
The ship hit a particularly large swell, and Jane toppled over the edge. A moment later she crashed onto the deck. She stood up, confused. "Um… I'm not quite sure what happened there. Everything went blurry."
"You can't leave…" said the voice of the ship. "And you won't be able to stay up there forever."
Jane looked around desperately. "What do we do now?"
The devil pondered the question. "This ship is, for want of a better phrase, alive."
The captain nodded.
"I am alive," hissed the ship.
"Good," said the devil. "For if things can be alive, then they can be dead."
"But you cannot kill me. What can you use?"
"Fire?" suggested Jane.
The devil snapped his fingers, and a ball of fire appeared in his hands. He threw it onto the main deck, which began to burn. The ship rocked, sending sea-water spraying over the side, dousing the flames.
"Was that it?" said the ship, with more than a hint of a snigger.
The devil waved his hand irritably, sending fire spreading across the deck again and again, the ship ducked into the water, soaking them, and extinguishing the flames.
"Hmph…"snorted the devil. "We need something more permanent."
The captain looked thoughtful. Absent-mindedly, he took a pipe from his pocket, and lit it with a tinderbox. He stared at the little silver box for a while.
"I know…" he said, distantly, at last. He said nothing more as he walked across to a hatch at the front and opened it. Inside there were a series of ladders leading deep into the ship.
"You can't just hide, you know," hummed the ship.
The Dutchman smiled faintly, and then went down into the ship. A little puzzled, Jane and the devil went to follow him, but he slammed the hatch down in front of them.
"Don't follow me!" he said in a muffled voice. "Just – brace yourselves."
Jane ran forwards. "What? What are you doing?" Already, though, she could hear his footsteps fading on the ladder. She hauled at the ring on the hatch, but it wouldn't open.
"Oh, no," said the ship smugly. "He may have a plan to save his skin, but you are stuck up here. And you won't be able to cling onto this little, slippery wooden platform. Go on, come back down to the main deck…"
Jane frowned at the devil. "What's his plan?" she hissed.
The devil looked sad for a moment, and nodded towards the cannons on the deck. "I' guessing that it has something to do with those."
Jane wrinkled her nose. "I don't –"
Deep in the bowels of the ship, Henrik felt his way along to the stores. There were no lights down here. It was far too much of a risk.
His hand brushed the rim of a barrel. Here. At his left and right he could feel more of the same. He found the stopper with his fingers, and took it out, feeling a little puff of the powder trickling over his skin. This was it.
"I should have done this years ago…" he murmured. He glanced at the dark robed figure next to him. He could see it as clear as in daylight, as if it was somehow darker than the lightless space he was in now. It nodded.
He hesitated, very briefly, and then, with a decisive gesture, brought his lit pipe down hard over the opening.
Everything went white.
"Jane!"
Jane woke with a start at the sound of both her parents' voices at once. Her eyes opened wide to see both of them at her bedside. She looked around. This looked like some kind of hospital.
"We were so worried about you!" cried her mum, who was extremely pale and red-eyed. "We thought we'd lost you! They couldn't find you on any of the rescue ship." She sobbed slightly.
"But then they told us that there'd just been a mistaken count – and here you are!" said her dad, relief etched across his face. "Did you get on the other boat?"
Confused, Jane stared blearily at him. "Uh, yeah, I guess so…"
What had happened? Had she just been concussed or something? Had none of it been real? Was it all a dream? The Dutchman, the devil, the ship… All made-up.
That felt like a cheat. Maybe this was a dream. But no, no dream would have bedside curtains that revolting.
"Are you awake now, Jane?" said a doctor cheerily, in full surgical gear, for some reason, face mask and all, walking in through the door. Despite all this, there was something familiar about him. "I see you've been reunited with your parents." He turned to them, turning his back on Jane. She noticed a wisp of bright red hair poking out from the green fabric cap. "I'm all set to discharge her. You were all very lucky to survive that disaster."
Her parents nodded furiously. "It's a miracle!" said her mum fervently.
The man's black eyes glinted, and then he nodded slowly. "Perhaps it was... And now you're all ready to go!" He signed a form at the end of the bed with a flourish and passed it to them.
Was it her, or was the paper smoking slightly?
"Thank you, doctor," said Ross, offering him his hand. He winced slightly as the doctor shook it, like the man had had sharper fingernails than he'd expected.
"I'll see you all – around –" said the doctor. His dark eyes bored into Jane's. He winked, and then strode out of the room. "Or not…"
And there ends episode six. Back to Whitechapel next, I think.