It was all intentional. So unbelievably intentional. Someone didn’t lock Andrés in that room temporarily. They locked him in and then ensured he could not escape or be rescued.

There is cowardice in that. Monstrous cowardice. Killing Andrés outright would have been despicable, but it was still better than sentencing him to a slow death with no chance of survival.

I do not believe that the killer wanted to torture Andrés. What could a boy do to deserve such a horrible death? Nothing. They killed him this way because they were too cowardly to murder him outright.

Kill a fourteen-year-old boy? No, that is wrong. Let us simply lock him in a room and ensure he cannot escape. Let nature take her course.

Just like Lord Norrington attempted with us, setting the Temerity out to sea.

Back to Andrés. After the galley was destroyed, the ship was towed to the cove. That may have been the impetus for the move. She was rotting and falling apart—or so it appeared—and the court case seemed unlikely to be resolved soon.

Did Andrés’s killer have a hand in the decision to move the ship? It is a very good question. Either way, the Temerity was moved, and by the time Nicolas got aboard, Andrés would have been long dead.

“I have asked whether he saw his killer,” I say. “He did not. He was too busy fleeing, and they never said a word, so he cannot tell us anything about them. I asked about those he heard talking. Again, he could not identify them. He thinks he may have heard Lord Norrington. The man had been onboard before, during the day, and he recognized him just now in the boat. He thinks he heard his voice that day, but he cannot say with certainty.”

“They thought he overheard something,” Nicolas says. “They came onboard in the night for some nefarious purpose. Someone spotted Andrés. They thought he had seen or heard their plotting.”

“He did not.”

“Yet they killed him anyway. Lord Norrington would not have nailed up the door himself. He’d have given the order. Can we still name Norrington as Andrés’s killer?”

“We could if we were absolutely certain that is what happened.”

“We need proof. Confirm it was Lord Norrington. Confirm he ordered Andrés’s death. I am certain of it, but we cannot chance erring. We must—”

The ship lurches. Nicolas grabs for me as I stumble. A howl, as if from the heavens themselves, and the sails snap.

“The wind,” Nicolas says. “She is picking up.”

He starts to run when another lurch knocks him to his knees. I hurry to him and help him to his feet, and we get to the sails, trying to lower them, but the wind catches, and the ship changes direction. It is a small change. One that would be unnoticeable on the high seas. Here, though, this close to the rocky shore, it is catastrophic.

“We cannot bring her around.” Nicolas shouts to be heard as the wind whistles. “We do not have enough room!”