Cast In Dark Waters

Lady Maycomb let out a mournful cry, more like a bird than a woman. "Oh please, dear, don't say that. We've traveled so far to meet with you and gone through such travails. Those abominable men and that detestable boat. And our situation is grave. This concerns our-" She would have continued but her husband hushed her with a gesture.

"I'll listen to what you have to say," Crimson told them, "and if I think I can help and it's worth my while, I'll tell you how much it will cost you. I don't haggle and I won't argue my points. That's the fashion in which I do business. You either agree or find yourselves someone else."

"Excellent," Maycomb said. "Then let us repair to a hotel and have some dinner and libation. That damnable ship has worn us to the very bone. I need whiskey. A cask of it."

~* ~

There were three opulent hotels in Port of St. Christopher's, and they were more refined and secure than one would expect in a cove of pirates. The reason, Crimson knew, was that most major countries had dispatched sub rosa agents to work with the privateers. There was loot each nation wanted stolen and it fell to these representatives to procure vessel and buccaneers, and to give them a list of exactly what was to be stolen from any particular ship. It fell to port officials to keep these delegates, operatives, and other important subjects safe lest they create a political tinderbox. Sometimes one could find sanctuary in the most unlikely of places.

The principal hotels had an air of European luxury and were designed to handle a dozen different languages and tastes, from the Slavic to the Mediterranean. Crimson took the Maycombs to the most lavish and expensive one, L'Hotel D'Avignon, in hopes of seeing just how freely the couple parted with their money. Maycomb was already known by the managers, who always kept an ear out for the names of the wealthy who might be traveling this quarter of the world.

They sat in an elegantly appointed room filled with exquisitely appareled travelers. The pirates kept away from places such as these; few had the gumption to cross boundaries that might bring down the wrath of more than one nation at a time. Assassins stalked these halls and kept watch on the envoys of enemy republics. She listened to four languages she recognized and two she'd never heard before.

Instead of whiskey they ordered wine and several dishes of small game and puddings, then sat in a dining area so extravagant that Crimson actually found herself growing a tad embarrassed. It was something she hadn't felt since she was a child, and its unfamiliarity made her almost heady. She sipped the Superior Claret and waited for them to begin their story.

Elaine Maycomb, wrapped in her gaudy pink scarf and with eyes puffy from exhaustion, tried hard to remain composed. There was a stoic tilt to her chin but she was having difficulty maintaining it, on the verge of going into a swoon. Maycomb, with a skull full of vipers, took no notice of his wife's fatigue. He'd already had enough wine to flatten three men but wasn't affected. She knew the type of troubles it took to keep a man sober after so much liquor. He hadn't even begun slurring his words yet, which proved he had great command over himself, at least in this. They'd been on ship for days with a ruffian crew, and Crimson wondered why Lady Maycomb didn't retire to a comfortable bed and let her husband carry on in these matters alone.

Crimson set down her glass and pushed her plate away. "It's not often easy for those who seek to engage my services to relate their histories and predicaments," she said. "But that's the only way we can do business. I won't go leaping into deep waters without knowing why or what might lie in wait for me. And if you lie about these circumstances and I find out about it-and I will-you'll be sorry you ever ventured off your tobacco farm."

"You've quite austere conditions, considering you're a pirate," Maycomb said with a haughty tone.

"You're right, but that's my way."

"So I've been told."

Elaine Maycomb sensed the possible conflict here and interjected. "It's about our daughter. She's only nineteen and unversed with the world and its complexities. Her name is Daphna."

"What about her?"

"She-well, she, you see-"

"Yes?"

A silence overtook the table and lengthened until Crimson nearly slid the silverware onto the floor just to hear the clatter. Maycomb steeled himself and said, "She attended finishing school outside of London. Late last autumn she met a man named Villaine."

"I've heard of him. A privateer who sails mostly along the merchant lanes outside of Cuba."

"That is so, as we understand it. Apparently he often returns to Westminster where he keeps up some of the veneer of his previous society life. Like so many of these freebooters, he once held a position of office among the Queen's Navy before he turned his energies to marauding."