Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead by S. Thomas Russell Page B

I do not believe there would be. However, my commander would be obliged to report what occurred to the Spanish authorities.”
    Angel nodded again. “I see.” He made an awkward bow and took his leave then, thanking Hayden once more for his counsel.
    As Hayden had been eavesdropping upon the young man’s private conversation with God, he felt a small pang of guilt at being thanked.
    Well, he thought, what do I make of this? Certainly, he was under an obligation to report the incident. No court would find Angel guilty of any crime. The only witness was his brother. There would be stigma, perhaps, but then being exonerated by a court might relieve the young man’s obvious burden of guilt.
    It occurred to Hayden that this death did not explain why Angel and his brother appeared to be lying about their identities. There was, for that, some other explanation.

    Hayden found the doctor in the cockpit. Griffiths sat at a work table in a little stain of light cast by a single lamp, honing surgical blades upon a fine whetstone. Why he did not do this upon the deck in the brightness of day, Hayden could not comprehend, but the doctor displayed several small peculiarities of this nature—all speaking of a desire for privacy.
    Hayden repeated to Griffiths what he had overheard and the subsequent revelation that Angel had made.
    Griffiths removed his spectacles and examined them for some malignant mote that grew large in his vision and asked, rather bluntly, “And what if Angel was lying?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Hayden wondered, somewhat stupidly, he realised.
    Griffiths held his spectacles up to the dull light and squinted. “Whatif he was lying about killing the man—or about the reason he killed him?”
    The very idea took Hayden by surprise. The confession had seemed so very genuine, so heartrendingly difficult for Angel to own to. Even so, Hayden felt a little foolish. It certainly could have been a lie, and he should have considered this possibility himself.
    â€œI doubt anyone would confess to killing another and have it be a lie. It seems rather more likely that you would lie to cover over such a murder.”
    â€œYes, unless what you actually did was worse . . .”
    â€œSuch as . . . ?”
    â€œCut the ropes holding the boat to the ship and then shot the man or men you must share your food and water with. We all saw what happened on
Les Droits de l
’
Homme
when men panicked and swamped the boat.”
    Hayden sat down upon a stool. “Do you think this is possible? That Miguel and Angel are capable of such . . . treachery?”
    â€œWe are, most of us, capable of more villainy than we suppose if we believe such villainy will preserve our precious lives.”
    Hayden felt as though he had suddenly wakened from a rather pleasant dream into a less than pleasant world.
    â€œMiguel,” Griffiths went on, “is a very amiable young man, Captain, but Angel . . . Angel has a kind of disingenuous charm that is difficult to resist. It is akin to the charm Mr Hawthorne displays, though of a much different nature. Mr Hawthorne’s charm serves very definite ends—at least when it comes to the female sex. I wonder if Angel’s charm, Captain, is not employed to some purpose as well . . . ?”
    He took up a rag lying on his small table and rubbed at the lenses of his spectacles.
    â€œYou remain fast in your belief that our guests are criminals or frauds of some nature?”
    â€œWe know they are frauds, Captain. You overheard them admit it.”
    â€œThat is true, but it is possible they are hiding their identities in somecause that is not criminal. After all, not so long ago I was pretending to be a French sea captain named Gil Mercier.”
    â€œYou were attempting to confuse our enemies, Captain,” Griffiths stated, replacing his spectacles upon the bridge of his nose and moving