“Dinnae be talkin’ much, that man. Calls him Swabian, we do, ’cause he lost his foot sailing aroond the southwestern coast o’ Germany. And ye know what else?”
“What?”
“Fell in love, he did, with a Swabian lassie what nursed him. Talk has it he has ten or twenty bairns runnin’ aboot that Bavarian coast.” The woman threw back her head, let out an uproarious laugh, and clapped Felton by the shoulder. “Enough blether from the likes o’ me. What’ll ye have to drink?”
“Nary a thing.”
“Och? Weel then, ye can be talkin’ with Swabian here for company, ye can.” With a smile and unseemly belch, she left the space between him and the Swabian empty.
Felton closed the distance between them. “I am Felton Northwood.”
The man did not so much as look up. “Names don’t matter.”
They did in some circles.
“Faces don’t matter neither.”
“Perhaps this will.” Felton fished out some coins and slid them next to the man’s tankard. “I need some information.”
“And I need a bloody new leg and a barque of frailty.”
“I’m looking to learn about two men.”
“Told you before. Names don’t matter. Better to forget them anyway.”
“Dane Brough and J. Gastrell.”
The man’s head raised. Old, bleary, liquid eyes narrowed on Felton’s face. “What do the likes o’ you want with them?”
“I believe we have a mutual acquaintance.”
“I believe you don’t.”
“What?”
“Dane and Gastrell…they’re both dead.”
“Who are they?”
“Don’t matter really.” The face turned back to the tankard. “Not now.”
“I was hoping they might tell me something about a Captain Jasper Ellis who—”
“Ellis.” Swabian spoke the word with a slight ring to his voice. He shoved the tankard away. Wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. Glanced back up at Felton with moisture swelling to the brim of his eyes. “He is alive?”
“Yes—”
“Healthy?”
“Yes, but—”
“Where?”
“Where what?”
“Where is Ellis?”
Felton took one step back. “I came with the questions, fellow, if you remember. Now if you can tell me what you know of Captain Ellis—”
