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By Root 3071 0

voyage all those years before. At one time no fewer than five heads were rumored to exist in the Pacific region, all attributed to James Cook. But I found the real one. I've got sources. I finally tracked it down on Malaita. The chief who sold it to me was an educated man. He spoke and read English. He'd been taught by a missionary. Whom he later ate with great relish, or so he claimed. He knew exactly who Cook was and what his head was worth. Besides, he saw nothing barbaric in headhunting. "I've read in your Bible," he said, "about David, the great warrior. After he defeated Goliath, didn't he cut off his head to show to King Saul?"

Shortly after this conversation I returned below deck, and soon I'd fallen into a restless sleep on my narrow berth, inhaling the sultry air and dreaming about Isager's house in flames that New Year's Eve, all those years ago. I was in the street, looking through the window—and I saw the schoolmaster's severed head sitting on the dining room table, staring back at me.

Then I heard the murmur of voices and the sound of bare feet against the deck. Confused about whether or not it was just a new dream taking over from the previous one, I woke with a tight feeling in my chest. I swung my legs out of the berth. The ship groaned and the waves heaved: the wind was no longer calm, and I decided to return to the deck to feel the fresh breeze on my face. I found the door to my cabin was closed—though I could have sworn that I'd left it open when I went to bed. I turned the handle—but the door was locked from the outside.

There was something going on that I wasn't allowed to see. And I now had a good idea what it might be. I banged on the door and called Jack Lewis's name, but no one came. I couldn't break it down, so eventually I gave up and returned to my berth, where I surprised myself by falling asleep again.

When I woke, light was streaming in through the open door. I found Jack Lewis in his cabin with a cup of coffee. He looked as if he had been expecting me and smiled broadly when I entered.

"Coffee?" he offered, and gestured to a chair opposite him. I made no reply. "Are we about to go another round? How about one of our Socratic dialogues about ethics? Trust me. Everything I do, I do purely to protect your delicate conscience."

"An unused conscience is no conscience at all."

"How philosophical we are this morning. Nothing makes a man more reflective than a locked door. If it weren't for this delicate conscience of yours, your door wouldn't be locked. But you're always welcome to come up on deck and enjoy the night. As long as you remember that I'm your captain and that my word is law on board."

"So it is slaves? The Flying Scud is a blackbirder?"

"Certainly not. There are only free men on board the Flying Scud."

"Who are locked in the hold during the day?"

"They can leave the ship whenever they want. Only I don't want them jumping overboard into the middle of the sea. They'll drown. Not even the strongest swimmer could ever get as far as any land. But the Kanaks are superstitious, and they're afraid to swim in the dark. So at night they're safe on deck."

I understood nothing at all.

"Leave the ship whenever they want?"

My voice was thick with anger and disbelief. Jack Lewis was making a fool of me.

"Yes. Once we reach land, they're free to leave the ship."

He got up and held out his hand. "The captain of the Flying Scud gives you his word."

I remained standing, with my hands at my sides.

"If they're free men, why have them on board? I presume there's a purpose?"

"Everything has a purpose."

"Yours or theirs?"

I glanced at the cupboard behind him, which contained the Winchester rifles. I knew he had no need to give me an answer.

That same evening I was at the helm when he came on deck to relieve me.

"I'll do a couple of hours of the next watch," I said.

"As you wish."

In the moonlight his face looked like a carved wooden mask.

Nothing happened during the first hour. The Kanak crew were sleeping around the deck, for the nights were still warm. Then Jack Lewis roused