Having decided this, Adam at last went to sleep.
The rain continued, unrelenting, late that afternoon when Resolved Forbes stuck his head down and shouted an awakener.
Adam put on the coat he had bought in Kingston. It was not a stunningly fine one, not of the sort he would soon be wearing, but it was a considerable cut above the coat of his freedom suit. It was sober without being somber, a rich dark blue, and of course slitted for a sword. He had white woolen breeches and white woolen stockings to go with it, and the waistcoat, appropriately gay in order to offset the seriousness of the coat proper, was ivory in color and all shot with silver thread. His hat, a wide-brimmed felt, somewhat Quakerish in aspect, seemed glum and shabby in such sartorial company; but it was the only one he owned —and the rain still came down.
The first person he encountered when he stepped ashore was Zephary Evans.
This man Evans was slabsided and long. He had a muddy complexion, a conscientious if unconvincing smile, lackluster eyes, and a habit of shoving his face close to yours when he talked: his voice was always low, nigh onto a whisper, and he seemed anxious that everything he said should be clearly understood. When he walked it was with a jointy movement that reminded you of some tall wading bird, a crane or flamingo; and when he came to a standstill this same impression prevailed, for he seemed to lift one leg underneath him—though he didn't actually do this—and to stand on one foot. He was much older than Elnathan, his wife.
He took Adam's hand in both of his, greeting him gravely. Adam was not touched, and took his hand back as soon as he could get it. Adam had not expected any committee of welcome. He knew his Newport. Even if Goodwill to Men had been spotted off Weeping Point the sight would scarcely justify a messenger to the village. After all, the schooner, though phenomenally fast, and well remembered because of the disputation that had attended her building, carried but a small crew, and those mostly foreigners—that is, men not from Newport.
"You're looking well, Captain. Aye. Aye. And we're all the same here. All of us still."
"Well, not quite all—"
Adam looked over toward Goat Island, then back at Zeph Evans' face. There was no twitch of guilt, no pallor, as he'd hoped.
"Ah, yes. You miss Hart? He blew dovm one night. Chain broke."
"Good riddance," murmured Adam.
"Amen," said Evans.
"Odd thing, they never found out who it was was his agent here."
"Go hard with him if they did. Dudley's fair panting after that charter. I do hope and trust ymir record's clear. Captain?"
"Sure," imperturbably. "Y'know, down in the islands I met a man'd been Hart's second when Hart was operating off this coast: Name of van Bramm. I ought to've asked who Hart's Newport agent was."
"You should have, aye."
"Meet him again, I will."
They stood there looking at one another, Zeph Evans smiling. The rain was ardent. No folks passed. Blake's was only a short distance away, but did Evans, the old skinflint, make a move toward suggesting that they have a noggin of him? No.
"Reason we ain't more surprised. Captain, a brig put in t'other day from Jamaica. She told us you was fixing to come back."
"That'd be the Artemis?"
"Aye. Told us about that prize you took, too. Congratulations."
"Derelict. I ain't commissioned to take prizes."
"You must have made money, then?"
Adam shrugged.
Zeph Evans harrumphed, rubbed one side of a hawklike nose with a finger that wasn't too clean, and in a few additional words jolted Adam so that his heels thudded the cobbles and his teeth clicked.
"Would you be interested in buying my share of the schooner?"
It was like a flash of pain, it was so intense and burny. Adam Long lowered his head lest joy show in his eyes. He spat thoughtfully.
Zephary Evans owned a quarter of Goodwill. Seth Selden's eighth, at a bargain price, had been a windfall for Adam, who now owned three-sixteenths but who had assumed that it might take years to buy more. With Zeph Evans' share he would own almost half.
But—why did Zeph want to sell?
Adam stood there watching the rain wash his spittle off a cobblestone. He scratched the back of his neck.
"Mightn't it be best you heard my report first?"
"Don't need to. Tell from what the Artemis officers said. Y'understand, Captain, I ain't aiming to give my share away!"
"Didn't suppose you was."
"We'll figure it out on the basis of your report. All I want to know right now is: You didn't bring Seth Selden hack, did you?"
Adam shook his head. "Seth went on the account."
"Out-and-out?"
"Public. He's at Providence. Lives there,"
Evans exhaled slowly. He leaned even closer, and put a hand on Adam's arm, an attention Adam did not like.
"Lucky thing for us you did what you did. Captain. You was the man for the job. I voted for you in the first place."
Aye, thought Adam, because your wife made you.
But Adam said nothing about this, only asked if Seth's peculations were so bad then?
"Captain, 'twas a scandal. The whole town knew of it, the whole colony, before you was twenty miles below Brenton's. Why, that Seth, he was mixed up in everything. Forgery, smuggling. Everything except being Tom Hart's agent. He wasn't even in Newport at that time."
"So it must have been some other man."
"The custos is hoppety mad. He'll be shouting at you sure."
"Mr. Clark? He wouldn't be persnicketty."
"No, this is a new one. Captain Wingfield. Not a pleasant gentleman at all. Dudley's been making a heap of changes, and the customs folks're bearing down on us." He nodded out toward the schooner. "Seth aboard of her, they might even seize her."
"Well, he ain't."
"A hypocrite, sir! That's what that man is!"
"Tut, tut," said Adam.
"Even stole funds from his own brother. I feel sorry for Obadiah. It's been a great disgrace for his family."
"That the only one?"
"Eh?"
"I mean: Deborah had her baby yet?"
Evans shook his head.
"She ain't with child," he said. "Never was."
"Oh," said Adam. "I thought she was."
He moved away from the older man, meaning to pull his arm free; but Zeph Evans, whose breath smelled like low tide, moved with him.
"Things like that scare me," Evans whispered. "Seth'd sailed in command of that schooner we'd never've seen it again."
"That's right."
"Thank God, Captain—and I say it reverently—thank the good Creator in Heaven above that you did what you did!" He stopped, and Adam slipped free. "Why not come up to my house and we'll talk it over, after you've reported to Wingfield?"