Seward tapped his lips once more. “Send the longboat aft with a crew of four, and have them stroke for their lives toward Wesbaden. The Dacca will think we’ve seen them and will expect us to head that way, but the Storm will maintain its present course. There is to be no light on this ship without my order, and I want absolute silence. Do you hear me? Not a sound.”

“Aye, sir.”

Seward glanced at Wyatt, who shook his head with a look of disgust. The captain ignored him and turned to his lieutenant. “See to it, Mr. Bishop.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“You should have tried for the longboat’s crew,” Wyatt whispered to Hadrian. “We all should have.”

It was still dark, and the crescent moon had long since fallen into the sea. As per the captain’s orders, the ship was quiet. Even the wind had died, and the ship rocked, motionless and silent, in the darkness.

“You don’t have a lot of faith in Seward’s decision?” Hadrian whispered back.

“The Dacca are smarter than he is.”

“You’ve got to at least give him the benefit of the doubt. They might think we turned and ran.”

Wyatt muffled a laugh. “If you were captain and decided to make a run for it against faster ships in the dead of night, would you have left the lanterns burning? The lantern ruse only works if they think we haven’t seen them.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Hadrian admitted. “We’ll know soon enough if they took the bait. It’s getting lighter.”

“Where’s Royce and his eagle eyes?” Wyatt asked.

“He went to sleep after his shift. We’ve learned over the years to sleep and eat when you can, so you don’t regret not doing so later.”

They peered out across the water as the light increased. “Maybe the captain was right,” Hadrian said.

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t see them.”

Wyatt laughed. “You don’t see them because you can’t see anything, not even a horizon. There’s fog on the water. It happens this time of year.”

It grew lighter, and Hadrian could see Wyatt was right. A thick gray blanket of clouds surrounded them.

Lieutenant Bishop climbed to the quarterdeck and rapped softly on the captain’s door. “You asked to be awakened at first light, sir,” he whispered.

The captain came out, fully dressed this time, and proudly strode to the bridge.

“Fog, sir.”

The captain scowled at him. “I can see that, Mr. Bishop. I’m not blind.”

“No, sir.”

“Send a lad with a glass up the mainmast.”

“Mr. Wesley,” Bishop called softly. The midshipman came running. “Take this glass to the masthead and report.”

“Aye, sir.”

Captain Seward, rocking on his heels and staring out at the fog, stood with his hand fidgeting behind his back. “It looks promising so far, doesn’t it, Mr. Bishop?”