The old Negro poured the remaining sangaree into a flask. They left the tavern and he led Krüger out of town, further up the river.

‘It’s going to rain,’ he said, striding with his cane. ‘A good ’un storm!’

They walked and walked, along the river, through the bends and bushes. Finally a grassy bank, Negroes and naked Indians washing at the water’s edge, and there were others cleaning fish and eels that were heaped upon the grass and inside the canoes. The river was dark green and the branches of dead trees reached up out of the water. Bayman Quince Rotterdam approached a man and they shook hands. There was a young boy beside him, holding a wooden spear for fishing.

‘Your son has grown, Dante,’ Bayman Quince Rotterdam said.

‘And I be shrunken.’

The boy had long eyelashes, fine-boned cheeks and slender shoulders, light-skinned like his father. His name was Aranjo.

‘Can you take this man to Guyane?’ Bayman Quince Rotterdam asked. ‘He searches for Mr Hendrik’s sister.’

Dante looked at Krüger with no expression, then down at his son. He knew about all that had happened at Captain van der Velde’s plantation.

‘What if she is not there?’ Dante replied.

‘Then she is not there,’ Krüger said. ‘But you’ll be paid.’

Dante nodded. ‘When do you wish to go?’

LORD OLDHAM FALLS ASLEEP

The fire warmed the backs of Claus von Rolt’s legs. He’d gone to stand there in order to stay awake. Lord Oldham had been talking about shortages of men for the navy, about another recruitment push through the northern villages and west to Whitehaven, about the Admiralty’s hope for five thousand more men.

‘Deserters, that’s the bloody problem!’ he said. ‘Bloody cowards.’

It was just the two of them. The room was close, the candlelight soft, the cognac glowed in each man’s cheeks and chests. And all the time the Englishman talked, the shrunken head had been calling Rolt from the cabinet. He couldn’t think about anything else.

‘We’ll round ’em up though,’ Lord Oldham said conclusively.

A clock chimed somewhere in the house. Rolt realised he hadn’t been listening; that in fact he’d closed his eyes for a moment and almost fallen asleep, standing up in front of the fire. He opened his eyes, embarrassed, but it didn’t matter. Lord Oldham had dropped chin to chest and was snoring lightly in his deep chair.

Rolt finished his cognac. He waited a little while, but Lord Oldham didn’t stir. He turned and put the glass down on the mantelpiece. He was wide awake now.