Chapter 15: The passenger

The day had started as any other for the crew of the Crimson Lady. The captain had staggered out of the cheap place he had spent the night at, slurring a promise of coming back next time to a young woman who didn't seem impressed at all. The first mate had woken up with the pigs without any exact memories of what had happened during the night. The other members of the crew shared a terrible headache. Their general wealth had gotten down, too, except for Julian Smith, who, as always, had cheated his way into winning every game.

Nothing out of the usual, in other words.

Julian Smith walked down the streets and arrived at the ship, sporting a striking black eye. Because they could never prove that he had cheated didn't mean they never suspected him of doing so. It didn't matter, because Smith still had the money.

The young man grinned. If he hadn't been in Tortuga, he would have been throwing and catching his gains in amusement, yet he knew better. Here, it would be asking for trouble.

He caught sight of the Crimson Lady, and frowned.

The captain was on deck, speaking with a young man he had never seen before. A handful of coins changed hands, and the captain gestured to the general direction of somewhere-on-the-ship,-just-out-of-my-way. The stranger nodded, took his leave, but did not get down the ship.

Julian made sure the captain wasn't seeing him, because he didn't feel like doing chores yet today. He joined a crewmate, and whispered.

"Who's that?"

"The captain just accepted a passenger."

"He did?"

"He did."

"What happened to the no-strangers-aboard-my-smuggling-Lady policy? I thought he didn't want anyone to see what we are transporting?"

"Apparently the price that guy paid choked the captain's protests in his throat."

Julian turned around and looked at the stranger, now sitting against a barrel with no worries in the world. The man looked young, perhaps younger than Julian himself, but he certainly was charming. While he presented like a working man, the details didn't fit. His clothes weren't ostentatious, but even someone who knew nothing about that could tell they were of quality. He had a great blade by his side, the kind that cost a lot. And most importantly, he wasn't filthy.

Hard to come buy someone clean when in Tortuga, because cleanliness didn't last around here. Especially not in the main town.

"Or the captain is hoping that one of us will murder the guy in his sleep, and that, as a perfectly respectable employee, they will share what's to gain. Wasn't he looking to upgrade from his old boring cutlass to something a little bit fancier?"

The crewmate glanced at the stranger's sword, then back at Julian. He shrugged.

"Or that."

"Yeah, 'thought so too."

There was a moment of silence, which the crewmate spent staring at the retreating back of their captain, while Julian struggled with the stranger's face. He had the feeling he had already met the man, just when he had started doing business in smuggling. But it had been six years ago, and the man had surely been a teenager back then, so it didn't make any sense.

Julian would have remembered a teenager who looked like that.

A door slammed behind the captain's back. The other sailor snorted.

"Honestly, where do you think Crowder got the idea anyone here was a model employee?"

Two drunk sailors chose that very moment to make a rumbustious come back to the Crimson Lady. These two never stopped drinking each time they got a foot on land. Julian could see were his crewmate's doubts came from.

Not that there was much of a doubt at this point.

"The reason why Captain Crowder is counting on our honesty, Miles, is the same as always. Who does not share gets their throats sliced."

"Wasn't it 'he who does not share shall present his throat bare'?"

"Right, that."

Both sailors nodded sagely, and decided, as always, to play it safe. Randolf Crowder wasn't someone they wanted to cross on his own ship, and he was the one paying them, which gave them two reasons not to do anything stupid. After all, it wasn't like they could hide the facts if anything happened to the passenger while aboard, and pretend that no, he must have stabbed himself in the chest and jumbed in the sea all on his own. If the passenger unfortunately lost his life during the journey, Crowder would make sure that the loot was fairly distribuited.

Meaning, the better half for the captain, and the others could fight over what was left.

Ah, the charming life of a smuggler in the Caribbean!

The first three days of the journey went well. No one had yet tried to murder the passenger in his sleep, though. Or, if they had tried, they hadn't succeeded because every morning he'd walk up on deck and go to the same barrel as the days before, where he'd spend the day thinking, or turning a wedding ring hanging around his neck between his fingers. But it was unlikely that the man would stay quiet if someone had already tried to kill him, so Julian thought no one had made the move yet.

He could see Crowder becoming agitated, too. Perhaps if they waited a bit more, the captain would do the dirty job himself. His eyes sure weren't leaving the passenger's sword for long...

Then again, if the captain had to go and do the job himself, there was no guarantee that the crew would get anything from the loot. The captain's rules, evidently, didn't apply to the captain.

That's why, on the fourth day at dawn, the crew, minus Crowder, came together.

They wanted to be sure they'd get something out of this, if anything.

It all went in quiet whispers, in the dim light of the new day.

"I say, two of us go and pay a visit to the gentleman down there, this evening. One keeps his hands on the guy's mouth, and the other terminates we look around for anything that could be of value, we gets it up here, and when the captain'll wake up tomorrow, he'll be happy to see the loot waiting for him."

"Of course, we'd get rid of the body beforehand. The captain doesn't like rotting bodies on his ship."

"Obviously, Grant; no one likes the smell of rotting cadavers."

"Who's volunteering?"

Silence.

Not that murdering someone in their sleep was much of a problem for any of them. They were common criminals: if it got them money, they did it, no matter how horrible an act it was that was needed. They had killed before, sometimes in battle, sometimes in cold blood.

But because they were ready to do about anything for a little money, didn't mean they were brave for all that. And none of them knew the passenger's fighting abilities. If he woke up and fought back, they didn't want to be the ones in danger. Because even if they were numerous enough to stop the man, no matter his skills, it could still happen that one or two sailors wouldn't see the next day.

None of them wanted it to be their case.

After a time, someone grunted in exasperation.

"Alright, if you're going to be that way... Smith and Fingers will be the ones to go."

The volunteered tried to protest, but it was to no avail. Julian strongly suspected that was revenge for the cheating at cards, on his part. For Fingers, it was most likely because the guy had once again stolen someone else's meal, and possibly what was left of their money after Tortuga, too.

Julian let his gaze wander on his would-be partner-in-crime. He now knew that he'd be the one doing the slicing, tonight, while Fingers would do the holding down. Joy.

The other sailors slowly left the group to do their thing, or even what they were supposed to do in the first place, Julian wasn't sure. It happened, from time to time, that the crew would actually work. If not, they would all be down in the water feeding fishes for who knew how long already...

The sun was almost up when he, Miles and two other sailors found themselves isolated on the deck, speaking of this and that. Once again, the older of the group started the story of Davy Jones. It didn't seem to matter that he had already told it a few hundreds of times, apparently, because the old man never missed an opportunity.

"... And when you don't see him on the Flying Dutchman, kid, then you should start to fear, because Davy Jones never lets anyone go. If his ship is here, then you are as good as dead. And if he isn't on his ship, it's because he is standing next to you already!"

"Davy Jones moves without being seen, Davy Jones moves without being heard, yeah, yeah, you said it already, old coot. Like, yesterday at lunch. Don't you ever get tired of this story?"

"It's not about moving, Miles! It's about being somewhere, and the next moment being somewhere else, just like that! That's the reason no one..."

"... ever escapes Davy Jones."

The four sailors jumped at the unknown voice who had just finished the old man's sentence.

Just behind them, coming from the place he had been sleeping, the passenger was standing. None of them had seen him come. None of them had heard him move.

Julian hid his swallowing, and smiled tightly to the stranger.

"Can we help you with something?"

The man looked at them for a moment, before looking away and at the sky. He seemed to be thinking. About what, Julian couldn't fathom.

"No, thank you. But listen to your elder, he knows what he's talking about.

And with these enigmatic words, the stranger walked away. The older sailor stared at his retreating figure for a time, looking uneasy, still spooked by the surprise apparition of the man, too.

Julian was just as surprised, but it didn't seem so strange, in fact, when considering that the man had paid to go to Cuba, to go up river of all places. Whoever wanted to see the witch Tia Dalma had to be shady, no matter their outside looks. Charming or not, this man was either dangerous, or had dangerous ambitions.

Or perhaps he was just foolish and curious.

Still, Julian wasn't eager to go in the stranger's room and slice his throat, when he had no idea if the passenger was expecting someone to do just that, or not. Anyone boarding on a smuggling ship had to have thought about the possibility, unless they were fools. For all he knew, Fingers and him could get killed this evening.

But, they had been volunteered. If he didn't go, he'd have to face the rest of the crew, and Julian didn't want that to happen.

So, when the night came, when the passenger left the deck to go to sleep, Julian and Fingers waited patiently for two good hours. They didn't want to rush in and find him awake. It was always easier to kill a sleeping man than to have to subdue him first. It was safer, too.

The other crewmates were watching the two carefully when they got up to do the job. Julian could feel the gazes on his back, and he wouldn't bet they were all in his favor. He knew at least three people who wouldn't be heart-broken if he got a deadly wound while getting rid of their passenger.

Team spirit was something awesome, or so he had heard.

Fingers went in first. When Julian joined him, he was already working on the locked door. In less than thirty seconds, it creaked open. The two winced, but it wasn't surprising. The Crimson Lady wasn't exactly a silent ship.

If they were lucky, the man'd think this was just the ship creaking as it always did. If they were really lucky, he wouldn't even wake up.

As it was, they found the man sleeping soundly.

And well, two minutes later, he wasn't sleeping anymore. He was a bit too dead for that.

It took Fingers a moment to get the light lit. As soon as they could see a bit better, Julian whistled at the sight of the man's sword. If Crowder hadn't already claimed it as his, he'd have fought for it without even thinking twice about it... They checked what the man had on him, to be sure not to miss anything of worth; they put the wedding ring aside.

Fingers and Julian shared a look, looked back at the cadaver in the bed, whose blood has sluggishly colored his shirt crimson, and resigned themselves. They had to get the body out, before it started to stink, and there was no better moment to do that than right now.

The two men lifted the body and started to make their way out of the room, up the stairs, to the nearest rail. It wasn't exactly easy, as the passenger was more muscular than they had thought at first glance, but it wasn't exactly difficult either.

The body tumbled over the rail, and Fingers sighed. They heard a splash only seconds latter. Julian looked over the rail; the waters were troubled. Figure.

"Do you think Davy Jones is already waiting for you, passenger?"

The water gave him to answer. Not that he had expected one.

Fingers stretched, yawned, and looked down too. Now they could see no reminder of their crime anymore. It was better that way, by all means. If the man had been a fool, going to see the witch, then he was better off dead that way, than another. If he had been a dangerous person, that was one less on Earth.

"What are you muttering, Smith?"

"Nothing, Fingers. Come on, let's call the others. We have a room to loot before dawn."

The crewmates who weren't sleeping at the time soon joined the two in the room of the deceased. There, they found a few coins, the sword, some spare clothes, the wedding ring, and a dagger. They had perhaps expected a bit more riches, but some of them were real optimists, and it was still better than nothing. Besides, it made sense for the stranger not to have taken too much with him, in case something just like this happened.

Crowder would be satisfied, they thought. He'd most likely take the sword and the money, leaving them to decide who would get the spare clothes, the ring and the dagger.

Julian already knew what he wanted.

They brought all that on deck, and two guys remained next to it to keep an eye out. Julian went to clean his hands from the blood, and after that he went to sleep.

Miles woke him up the next day when Crowder left his cabin. The captain strolled to the loot, glared at everyone while asking if no one had had the genius idea of keeping some of it for themselves, threatened them of bodily harm if so, and seeing that no one was looking away, reached for the sword.

"Ah, I was looking for my things, captain. I see your crew found them. Much appreciated, thanks. I have truthfully no idea how I lost them all during the night..."

Julian froze as he recognized the voice.

So did most of the crew, even if they hadn't heard the man talk many times. If they hadn't recognized the voice, it didn't mean they didn't know who it belonged to. After all, they knew the voices of all their crewmates, so if there was one they couldn't pinpoint...

It'd be the passenger's.

The man joined Crowder next to his stuff, and reached down to get them. Then he turned around, a fake smile on his handsome face, and thanked the captain again. Which allowed Julian to get a good look at the dead man walking.

The stranger was still in the same clothes as when he and Fingers had dumped him in the sea. In fact, his clothes looked more on the dried side than on the dry side. As if he had fallen in the water not too long ago. As if he had been thrown over board during the night, had climbed up back onto the ship, and had waited for it all to dry.

For a moment, Julian wondered if he had dreamt the events of last night.

Because the dead man seemed a bit too alive to his taste.

But the loot was right here, between Crowder and the passenger. And, more importantly, the man's shirt was still red with blood. A red diluted into something a bit more pink than red, true, because of all the water down in the sea, but bloody nonetheless. And if Julian hadn't cut the man's throat, which he was certain of having done, where would the blood have come from?

Everyone stared at the man for a time without saying a word. He ignored them, took his things back, and disappeared to his room. There was a fleating moment of disbelief after he left.

Then Crowder, who had gone pale like the moon, simply headed for his cabin.

The older man in the crew looked at Julian, Miles, and the other sailor who had been present the day before, when the passenger had appeared out of nowhere. His eyes were positively terrified. And Julian didn't really know what to think of it all, but he certainly wasn't going to try that again.

Because if a man could walk up from a watery grave, Julian Smith would not be the one to cross him a second time.