I reached over and plucked at his arm. “Zachariah,” I said, “I know where he keeps it.”
Chapter Twenty
I scrambled from the brig and very quickly told Zachariah what had happened when I brought the information about the round robin to Captain Jaggery, how he removed a key from behind the portrait of his daughter and with it opened up the gun safe.
Zachariah grunted. “I never thought to look there.”
“Did you look?”
“To be sure. If we could have secured that key—and the guns—we would have taken him before. And I can promise you, it’s still true.”
I felt a surge of excitement. “Is there anyone who goes into his cabin now?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Zachariah said. “But you could go.”
“Me?”
“You know exactly where it is, don’t you?”
“But I’m supposed to be here!”
“Exactly.”
“Zachariah,” I cried. “That would be insane. What if he caught me?”
“He could do no worse than he intends to do.”
I saw the gruesome logic in that. “But even if I did get the key, then what?”
“If Jaggery had no muskets, the men could be rallied again.”
“What if the crew gets their hands on the guns? What will they do?”
“I couldn’t answer to that,” he admitted.
“I don’t want any more death,” I said.
“Get the key to me, Charlotte. The rest will follow.”
The enormity of the idea frightened me. “Why shouldn’t you get it to begin with?” I wanted to know.
“If it’s me he catches, Charlotte, he’ll be free to get rid of both of us. If it should happen that you fail, it would still leave me a chance to try and act.”
“Try?”
“Charlotte, it’s all I can promise.”
I considered his reasons. Then I said, “Zachariah, you told me that the crew has been coming down to bring you food.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t do anything until you tell them that it wasn’t you who killed Hollybrass. Nor me. And that we’re certain it was Captain Jaggery himself. It will make it much safer for me to make the attempt.”
“I see your point.”
“When do they come?”
“When they can.”
“Zachariah,” I reminded him. “He’s only given me twenty-four hours.”
“Get back there then,” he said, motioning to the brig and pulling himself up. “I’ll try to find someone.”
I retreated into the cage. He adjusted the bars, and left a new candle within easy reach—as well as a tinder box. I heard him move away through the darkness until I lost sense of where he was.
There was this about the dark: It freed me from time and space. Cut off as I was, I could retreat into thoughts about all that had happened since my arrival at Liverpool with that odd Mr. Grummage. It seemed a million years ago, yet no time at all. I couldn’t help but feel some pride in what I’d accomplished.
Perhaps it was Zachariah’s reference to my father, but for the first time in a long while I began to think of my true home, in Providence, Rhode Island. Though I’d only the vaguest memories of the house itself (I had left it when I was six), thoughts of my mother, my father, my brother and sister, were all very strong and clear.
With a start—for it is a curious fact that I had not truly considered my family for a time—I began to contemplate an accounting to them of all that had happened—if I lived. With great vividness I pictured myself relating my adventure, while they, grouped about, listened in rapt, adoring attention, astonished yet proud of me. At the mere anticipation, my heart swelled with pride.
I was still basking in these dreams when I heard the sounds of someone approaching. Not knowing who it might be, I pushed myself to the back of the brig and waited. But then I heard: “Charlotte!”
It was Zachariah’s voice.
“Give us light,” he called in a whisper.
I scrambled forward, found the tinder box, and in moments had the candle lit. There was Zachariah. And with him was Keetch.
From the first moment I had seen Keetch—as I came aboard the Seahawk—I’d never cared for him. He was too nervous, uncertain. To see that he was the one Zachariah had brought was not the greatest comfort.
“Miss Doyle,” Keetch said when he drew close, peering about in his agitated way, “I’m pleased to see you.”
“And I you,” I made myself reply.
What followed then was a strange council of war. Zachariah made it clear at the start that neither he nor I had murdered Mr. Hollybrass.
“But who did then?” Keetch asked, truly alarmed.
“Captain Jaggery,” I said quickly.
“Why . . . what do you mean?” he demanded.
We offered our reasons.
Keetch listened intently, only occasionally looking up with startled eyes at me or Zachariah, yet nodding to it all. “Murder his own mate,” he murmured at the end with a shake of his head.
“Do you have any doubts?” Zachariah asked.
“None about you,” Keetch told him.
“And me?” I asked.
He seemed hesitant to speak.
“As I see it,” I said, “the men didn’t want to help me during the trial because you thought it was Zachariah who killed Mr. Hollybrass.”
“True enough,” Keetch said. “We talked about just that. I’ll admit, I was one who said we owed more to Zachariah here than to you. Understand,” he said, “where old loyalties lie.”
I assured him that I did and insisted I laid no blame.
“As you know,” Keetch continued, “I wasn’t one of those who took to you in any partial way, not like Zachariah here. I’ll confess too, I never wanted you aboard. You’ll remember, I told you so when first you came.”
I nodded.
“But you’ve proved me wrong more than once,” he concluded. “So if my word means anything, you can now be sure no man will support your honor more than I.” That said, he held out his hand to me.
I was relieved at Keetch’s acceptance. Perhaps, I thought, I’d wronged him.
So then and there, he and I shook hands like old sailors. I felt a great weight drop from my soul.
The news Keetch brought was crucial, that we were—by the captain’s reckoning—a few days’ sail from Providence. Hanging me was therefore of the utmost urgency—which explained the captain’s twenty-four hours.
Keetch readily agreed with Zachariah that if we could manage to keep the captain from his guns, never mind securing them for ourselves, another rising could be staged. He would vouch for that. “But,” he warned, “he keeps those guns locked up and the key to himself.”
“I know where he hides it,” I said.
He looked around in surprise.
“Where?”
I told him.
“And would you try to get them?”
“Yes.”
Keetch whistled softly. “Most times he keeps to his cabin,” he said.
“All you need do is find some way to get him and hold him on deck,” Zachariah said.
“I’ll be here and ready when you have,” I put in. “Once you’ve detained him, I can secure the key to the gun cabinet.”
“It shouldn’t take her but a moment, Keetch,” Zachariah pressed.
Keetch studied his hands for a long while. “It might be possible.” He glanced upward. “What about the others?”
“You’re going to have to spread the word that it was the captain who murdered Mr. Hollybrass, not me,” Zachariah told him. “Not her either.”