“Remus Stagg?” Captain Winans said, glancing towards his first officer, who was staring at Hawkwood, slack-jawed, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard either.

“You knew him?” Hawkwood said. Thinking, Christ, that’s all we bloody need!

Captain Winans’ mouth took on a downward curve as he dabbed the inkstains with the corner of his sleeve. “I think it would be fair to say that we are not … unfamiliar with his activities.”

“He’s a black-hearted rogue, is what he is!” Renner interjected sharply, earning an admonishing glance from his captain.

“Was,” Lawrence corrected. “Now, he’s fish bait.”

A pregnant silence followed. Hawkwood watched as an approving smile broke across First Officer Renner’s face.

In contrast, as befitting his rank, Captain Winans’ expression remained tactfully neutral. After several seconds thought, he cleared his throat. “The crew; how many were there?”

“Six,” Hawkwood said. “Including Stagg. If you require names, I can provide a couple. Walter Maddox and one that Stagg called Cyrus. I couldn’t tell you any of the others.”

Not that I give a damn.

Lawrence gave an apologetic shrug. “Can’t help you either, Captain. I’m sorry.”

Winans absorbed the information in silence and wrote down the names. “I see,” he said pensively. “Well, I dare say their families will come forward when the vessel’s loss becomes known.” He looked at Hawkwood. “And the dispatches you were carrying? What of those?”

Hawkwood shook his head. “As far as we know, they’re at the bottom of the lake. We did try to retrieve the pouch, but it all happened so damned quickly. There wasn’t time to gather anything. All we have are the clothes we were standing in.”

Which wasn’t strictly true, for they also had the last of the guineas; half of which Hawkwood had transferred from his jacket to the hollowed heel of his boot. The rest were inside Lawrence’s belt.

The captain favoured Hawkwood with an unexpectedly wry smile. “It’s fortunate you weren’t in your nightshirts then. Though I dare say your quartermaster will be able to replace some of the items you lost.”

“I expect so,” Hawkwood said. “There was nothing of sentimental value.”

Unless, of course, you counted Lawrence’s father’s mythical bloody musket.

Captain Winans continued to stare hard at Hawkwood and for several seconds his gaze did not falter. Finally, putting down his pen, he placed his palms on the chart table and pushed back his chair. “In that case, I believe our business here is done. I have all the relevant information. Unless either of you has anything pertinent to add …?”

“No, sir,” Hawkwood said, putting down his drink and rising to his feet. Lawrence did the same.