A Prisoner in Malta by Phillip Depoy Page B

face.
    â€œAh!” he boomed. “A fine speech! I see that my friend Rodrigo is true when he tells me that you are a brave man, as well as something of a poet. Good.”
    A voice behind them startled Marlowe.
    â€œI believe the word I used was foolhardy, ” Lopez said, “not brave .”
    â€œIt comes to the same thing,” the captain insisted, “in an enterprise such as this.”
    Marlowe turned to see that Lopez, too, had not slept. The doctor’s eyes seemed circled with charcoal, and his body was tense.
    â€œBut my friend Marlowe has a point, you see,” Lopez continued, speaking to de Ferro. “He would like to know why such an impressive ship would be following us if everyone in your crew is trustworthy.”
    â€œ Someone knows your mission,” the captain said plainly, “but not my men. They have no idea what you’re doing.”
    â€œPossibly.” Lopez glanced in the direction of the Spanish ship. “Although I am forced to ask: who else would give us away? Not our master, not you, not Marlowe or me. What other possibilities?”
    Marlowe sniffed. “Endless. Someone at Cambridge, the coachman, the men who attacked us—”
    â€œYes,” Lopez interrupted, “we should have killed them.”
    â€œI’ll kill a man if necessary,” Marlowe snapped, “but not for mere convenience.”
    â€œBut if they were the ones who set this ship after us…” Lopez protested.
    â€œIt could have been any one of a hundred shadows at Whitehall, hundreds more at the Hastings docks and, lastly, as I was saying, it could be one of the men on this ship.” Marlowe turned to the captain. “How did it come to pass that Captain de Ferro’s ship was waiting for us?”
    â€œMy ship has been at the ready for two days,” the captain answered.
    â€œBy royal order,” Marlowe asked, “or some other commission?”
    â€œI’ll show you.” The captain strode toward the steps. “The document is in my cabin.”
    With a slight glance at Marlowe, Lopez followed immediately. Marlowe took a moment to study the Spanish ship once again, and then sped after it.
    The captain’s cabin was so grand that Marlowe was momentarily taken aback. It was really three rooms: an office of sorts, sleeping quarters, and a large closet for a chamber pot, stool, and washbasin. All were fastidiously tidy. The back wall was taken primarily by shuttered windows, and all the shutters were open, so that a view of the Spanish ship was amply displayed.
    Captain de Ferro, his face stern, went to his desk and picked up a small golden cylinder. He uncapped it, withdrew a single page, and handed the page to Lopez.
    Lopez unrolled the document. Marlowe stood close enough to see what was written there.
    â€œMake ready your ship immediately,” it read. “Two passengers, a doctor and a student.”
    There was nothing else on the page.
    â€œNothing more?” Lopez asked. “No money, no explanation?”
    The captain shook his head.
    Marlowe’s eyes narrowed.
    â€œOur captain has done this sort of work before,” Marlowe announced, taking a single step backward. “He has received other letters like this one. He recognized the handwriting. Or, possibly, that golden tube. No further words were necessary.”
    All eyes fell on the tube. It was plain, a foot or so long, with caps at each end.
    â€œMay I?” Marlowe asked.
    He moved toward the captain’s desk without waiting for permission.
    Captain de Ferro took a single step, blocking Marlowe’s progress, and smiled.
    â€œYou may not,” he told Marlowe.
    Marlowe nodded. “And that tells me as much as I need to know.”
    â€œI’ve told you nothing,” the captain insisted, but his voice betrayed a small doubt.
    â€œYou won’t allow me to examine that case,” Marlowe said pointedly, “I therefore conclude