“I cannot imagine.” He grew thoughtful, and even glanced toward the ladder. Then, abruptly, he turned back to me and said, “But what’s that to do with you?”
“Zachariah, it’s the reason I’m here. The captain has accused me.”
“You?” Again he seemed surprised.
I nodded.
“But surely, Charlotte, you did nothing of the kind.” He looked around. “Or did you?”
“No.”
“Then there’s no more to be said.”
I shook my head. “Zachariah,” I went on, “the crew seems to side with Jaggery, to think it was me.”
“I cannot believe that,” he exclaimed.
“Zachariah, it’s true.”
He gazed at me in perplexity. “Now it is my turn to ask—why?”
“The murder was done with the dirk you gave me.”
“What proof is that? Someone must have taken it from your things in the forecastle.”
“Zachariah, when I moved to the forecastle I left it in my cabin.”
“Then of course you have nothing to do with it.”
“They don’t believe I left it there.”
“Charlotte, you are not given to lies,” he said.
“When you first saw me, Zachariah, did you think that I would ever go before the mast?”
“No ...”
“Or climb into the rigging during a storm?”
“Not at all.”
“Well then? Why shouldn’t I have murdered Mr. Hollybrass as well? I’m sure that’s the way they’re thinking.”
My words silenced him for a few moments. His face clouded. But instead of commenting, he stood up. “I have a store of food and water here. I’ll get some.” Securing the candle to a plank, he moved into the darkness.
I watched him go, puzzled and troubled by his reaction to what I’d said. While he had appeared genuinely surprised, it seemed impossible that he hadn’t been told. And indeed, as he vanished into the gloom, a ghastly notion began to fill my head.
Perhaps it was Zachariah who had killed Mr. Hollybrass!
No doubt he would have killed the captain, given the chance. As for the first mate . . . Had Zachariah done it to strike fear into Captain Jaggery? The very idea was loathsome to me. And yet . . . My racing mind began to construct an entire conspiracy.
The crew, knowing Zachariah was alive, might have guessed—perhaps knew for a certainty—that he had done the crime, but would not acknowledge it. Now, with the captain accusing me, they were being asked to choose between me and Zachariah, their old comrade. A decision on their part to defend him would be understandable, and would go far to explain why they’d abandoned me.
But before I could puzzle out my thoughts, Zachariah returned with a jug of water and a hardtack loaf. Mealy as the bread was, I was glad to have it.
“Do you wish to be free of there?” he asked, nodding toward my cage.
“It’s locked.”
“A sailor knows his ship,” he said slyly. Reaching toward the back of the brig, he pulled two bars out from what I now realized were rotten sockets.
“Come along,” he said, “but be ready to bolt in if anyone comes.”
I did so, and we sat side by side, our backs against a barrel in the flickering candlelight.
“Zachariah,” I said, “the captain has said he’d bring me to trial. Do you think he means it?”
“That’s his right.”
“And if he does hold a trial, what will happen?”
“He’ll be judge and jury and find you guilty.”
“And then . . . ?” I asked. When Zachariah didn’t answer I said, “Tell me.”
“I cannot believe he’d go so far ...”
“As to hang me?”
His silence was answer enough. For a while we both remained silent. “Zachariah,” I said, “I need to know: did anyone else besides me see you during the storm?”
“I exchanged words.”
“With whom?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“Maybe.”
He considered. “Fisk,” he said after a moment. “And Keetch.”
“Then it’s likely the entire crew knew you came up.”
“It’s possible,” he said with a sudden frown.
Had he read my mind? “Zachariah,” I said softly, “it’s bound to be one of your mates who killed Hollybrass.”
“Charlotte,” he said with a sigh, “that’s true. Everyone of them might have a good reason. But, look here, once we discover who it is we can decide what to do.”
I kept glancing sidelong at him, trying to read his mind, more and more convinced that it was he who was the murderer. Still, I lacked the courage to ask.
“Tell me all you know,” he said.
I related what little I could, from the discovery of Mr. Hollybrass’s body to Captain Jaggery’s accusation.
My words made him even more thoughtful. “Charlotte,” he said finally. “That dirk. Did you tell anyone else you had it?”
I cast my mind back. “Shortly after you gave the blade to me,” I recalled, “I wanted to give it back. Remember? Zachariah, when you refused to take it, I offered it to the captain.”
He turned around sharply. “But why?”
“I was afraid of it. And you.”
“Still?”
“No. But then I was.”
“Did you tell him where you got it?”
I shook my head.
“It’s not like him to let the matter go at that. He must have demanded an answer.”
“He did.”
“And?”
“I made one up.”
“Did he believe it?”
“I thought so.”
“What followed?”
“He said I should keep it. Place it under my mattress.”
“And . . . did you?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone else know you had it?”
I thought hard. “Dillingham!”
“What about him?”
“When I was going to give it back to you, I was holding it in my hand. Dillingham saw it. I know he did.”
“And if he told others,” Zachariah mused out loud, “then there’s not a soul aboard who could not know of it.”
The moment he said it I knew he was right. And I remembered something else. Zachariah also told me to put it under my mattress. I glanced around and caught him stealing a sidelong look at me.
“Zachariah, I didn’t kill Hollybrass. I was aloft when it happened. And when I went aloft, it was the captain who gave me a knife to use. I didn’t even have one.”
“What happened to that one he gave you?”
“I lost it.”
He grunted. Neither yes nor no.
Once more I could taste my accusation of him on my tongue. Even as I thought it the candle gutted and went out. The darkness seemed to swallow my ability to talk.
But Zachariah talked, a sudden and surprising torrent, dark tales about each member of the crew. Every jack of them, he claimed, had run afoul of the law at some time or other. Not mere snitch thieves or cutpurses either; some were true felons.
More compelling than what he said was what he did not say. The more Zachariah talked the more convinced I was that his rambling chatter was meant to keep us from the crucial question—who killed Mr. Hollybrass? And the more that question was avoided, the more certain I was that it was he.
But how could I accuse him? The captain would have to know that he was alive, and that knowledge would mean Zachariah’s certain death! Also, it would mean the end of the crew’s plan—which required Zachariah—for bringing Captain Jaggery to justice.
No wonder I couldn’t ask him the question. I did not want to know!
A noise startled me. I felt Zachariah’s hand on my arm. A warning.
A shaft of light dropped into the darkness. I could see that the cargo hatch on deck had been pulled open. In moments we heard someone on the ladder.