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"Sell this, burn the body, and see his ashes receive a Christian burial," commanded Sara, pressing the pin into the nearest calloused palm. "Let's give him the peace in death he was denied in life."
They exchanged a cunning glance.
"That jewel will pay for the funeral with enough left over for any vices you seek to indulge this year, but I'll have somebody watching you," she warned pleasantly. "If this poor man ends up in the undesirables lot beyond the city walls, you'll be hanged, is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," they muttered, tipping their hats respectfully.
"Can you spare a minute for Sammy Pipps?" called out Arent, who was standing next to Guard Captain Jacobi Drecht.
Sara glanced at her husband once again, obviously trying to weigh his displeasure. Arent sympathized with her predicament. Jan Haan could find fault in a bold table arrangement, so watching his wife dash through the dirt like a harlot after a rolling coin would have been unbearable to him.
He wasn't even looking at her. He was watching Arent.
"Lia, return to the palanquin, please," said Sara.
"But, Mama," complained Lia, lowering her voice. "That's Samuel Pipps."
"Yes," she agreed.
"The Samuel Pipps!"
"Indeed."
"The sparrow!"
"A nickname I'm sure he adores," she responded dryly.
"You could introduce me."
"He's hardly dressed for company, Lia."
"Mama—"
"A leper's quite enough excitement for one day," said Sara with finality, summoning Dorothea with a lift of her chin.
A protest formed on her daughter's lips, but the maid stroked her arm, encouraging her away.
The crowd melted from Sara's path as she approached the prisoner, who was busy straightening his stained doublet.
"Your legend precedes you, Mr. Pipps," she said, curtsying.
After his recent humiliations, this unexpected compliment seemed to take Sammy aback, causing him to stumble on his initial greeting. He tried to bow, but his chains made a mockery of the gesture.
"Now, why did you wish to speak with me?" asked Sara.
"I'm imploring you to delay the departure of the Saardam," he said. "Please, you must heed the leper's warning."
"I took the leper for a madman," she admitted in surprise.
"Oh, he was certainly mad," agreed Sammy. "But he was able to speak without a tongue and climb a stack of crates with a lame foot."
"I noticed the tongue but not the lame foot." She glanced back at the body. "Are you certain?"
"Even burned, you can see the impairment clearly. He would have needed a crutch to walk, which means he couldn't possibly have climbed up on those crates without help."
"Then you don't believe he was acting alone?"
"I don't, and there's a further cause for concern."
"Of course there is," she sighed. "Why would concern want to travel alone?"
"Do you see his hands?" continued Sammy, ignoring the remark. "One is very badly burned, but the other is almost untouched. If you look carefully, you'll notice a bruise under his thumbnail and that his thumb itself has been broken at least three times in the past, rendering it crooked. Carpenters accrue such injuries as a matter of course, especially shipborne carpenters, who must contend with the unsteady motion of the boat while they're working. I noticed he was bowlegged, another common trait of the sailing class."
"Do you believe he was a carpenter on one of the boats in the fleet?" ventured Arent, examining the seven ships in the harbor.
"I don't know," said Sammy. "Every carpenter in Batavia likely worked on an Indiaman at some time. If I were free to inspect the body, I might be able to answer the question more definitely, but—"
"My husband will never free you, Mr. Pipps," said Sara sharply. "If that's to be your next request."
"It's not," he said, his cheeks flushing. "I know your husband's mind, as I know he will not hear my concerns. But he would hear them from you."
Excerpted from The Devil and the Dark Water by Stuart Turton . Copyright © 2020 by Stuart Turton . Excerpted by permission of Sourcebooks Landmark. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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