A head suddenly broke the surface as McCurdy watched; and spat out water, and spoke.  "Me lad !"  the man said, ignoring the gun McCurdy levelled at it, looking past him to Hawksmoore.
.
"Captain !" Sebastian Hawksmoore cried, with apparent delight, jamming the pole into the bottom to slow the boat.
"Permission to come aboard, Master Hawksmoore ?"  the man asked, the blackness of the river rendering him as a dripping wet, disembodied head. He had an eyepatch, and a bald spot, but did not look particularly threatening.  His accent was akin to Hawksmoore's.
"Granted !"

The man swam to the side of the boat, and he set an arm along it, to haul himself aboard, then made a gesture at the water, a beckoning one, to something or someone below it; Brother Clary saw this clearly.  "Do I mistake me, or is this Pedro Morales' boat, Bastian ?"  he said, as Hawksmoore bent to offer him a hand up.
"Tis, Captain," Hawksmoore replied.
"And where is the good man ?"
"Seeking his boat, happenstance," Hawksmoore said, with a smirk.
"Oh, me lad, a pirate forever ye are." grinned the man, and easily got onto the boat.  He was dressed mostly as a native, but wore boots and a knife on his belt.  Dripping wet, he bowed, with flair and courtesy, to the ladies, first Liza, then Marianne. "Miladies !"  he said, with delight, and a rogueish smile. "May I present myself; Jonathan Hornsby, at your service !"

McCurdy turned the gun back toward the water and to whomever it was Eyepatch had waved at, waiting for it to appear.  He kept one eye on Hawksmoore’s friend though and wondered what else would be rising from this black river.

Marianne studied Hornsby for a few moments, but finally accepted the Captain for a friend of the surly youth. "Marianne Trevors," she introduced herself. "You're alright? We heard the gunshots," she added, keeping her voice low.

"Oh, Aye, Milady," Hornsby replied to Marianne, grinning boldly and raking her with a Look. "Twas the Mapmaker, making the travel parlous.  Shot down my boat, too, bedamned to him.  Let down that firearm, lad, there's a preacher in the river."  The last was directed at McCurdy.

"I waited at the docks, lad, but you weren't about," this was directed at Sebastian, "So I agreed to take along a bloke who's got that talisman.  What kept ye ?"

"Demons," Sebastian Hawksmoore replied tersely.

McCurdy had glanced at Eyepatch at first, not thinking much about a preacher being underwater what with all he had been privy to up to this point, but when he made mention of a "talisman" in almost the same breath... Well, McCurdy couldn't let that one go.

He held the gun level on the water still and talked to what he was aiming at, but his question was obviously for Eyepatch.

"A preacher and a talisman, eh?  Name wouldn't happen to be Clary, would it?"  Nah... couldn't be that easy...

"Demons..." Marianne couldn't help repeating with a shudder. But it wasn't that which put a troubled look on her face. Basil's words rang alarmingly loud in her head. He had made the map... Or so he said. And he was here - they were here - retracing the trail...

It had to be a coincidence. Basil was such a gentle soul, he couldn't be behind this. No, she was imagining things...

And if she wasn't, was she better off knowing or not knowing?

"This mapmaker..." She hesitated, debating with herself.

"Don't tell me his name," she said, almost fiercely, before she caught herself. "Please, don't tell me his name," she amended.

"But... what does he look like?" She looked as if she was steeling herself for the worst kind of news.

Wearily dragging his soaked form into the boat, the Texas preacher eyed the man cautiously.  "I reckon you've heard of me then."  He then turned and addressed the others. "Ladies, gents, name's Brother Clary.  I'm right glad you came along when you did.  I don't mind fishin' on occasion, but I don't particularly enjoy bein' on eye level with 'em."  While he made pleasantries, it was obvious his mind was elsewhere as he stared down the river in the direction of the path the other boat took.