A Watery Grave (11 page)

At that, Captain Wilkes took over the conversation, asking many questions about Wiki's background and the languages he spoke, while Wiki answered with the bland politeness he had cultivated over the years for this kind of cross-examination. It was indeed a revelation, Captain Wilkes concluded, that a barbarian could take on the trappings of civilization so completely. He then went on to express a hope that Wiki fully understood the enormous privilege of being allowed to take part in this world-shaking enterprise, the great United States Exploring Expedition. His scientific passengers were enchanted with the voyage so far, he said.

“In fact,” Captain Wilkes added, sounding surprisingly ingenuous, “the novelty of our situation has been quite enough to interest the
entire
company!”

“Indeed, sir,” said Wiki, not at all sure how to respond.

“Even the ignorant sailors are quite fascinated! It has been amusing for me to watch them huddle around to see fish being dissected and then to hear Jack and his shipmate bandying scientific names—‘hard words,' they call 'em!—back and forth.”

Wiki nodded and smiled, and Wilkes prattled on about the geological, astronomical, botanical, zoological, and anthropological aims of the expedition, with occasional interlocutions from Smith. Wiki had often heard George repeat that Wilkes had a reputation for being conceited, ambitious, and arrogant, and that it was little wonder the navy had invited three other captains to take over the command after Thomas ap Catesby Jones's angry resignation, before being reduced to appointing this man. Listening to Captain Wilkes's enthusiastic outpouring and watching the fire in his large, intelligent eyes, however, Wiki meditated that his unfortunate manner might stem from a single-minded devotion to science rather than egotistical pride.

Then all at once the commander ran to a stop, cleared his throat, and said, “You probably know that the expedition was struck with
tragedy
last night.”

Wiki fought down the impulse to look at Stanton, who appeared to be absorbed in his calculations, but was undoubtedly listening raptly. He said carefully, “Astronomer Burroughs?”

“Yes.” Wilkes seemed to become aware of the audience, too, looking up and saying, “Gentlemen, would you mind—?”

Lieutenant Smith harrumphed and apologized, coming to an abrupt realization that his company was no longer wanted, and took a brisk leave. Stanton, however, moved much more reluctantly. Wilkes and Tristram Stanton were cronies, Wiki remembered—it was only because of their friendship that Charles Wilkes had agreed to have an astronomer on board the
Vincennes.
However, the chilly silence in which Stanton rose from his desk and gathered up his papers was not friendly in the slightest, and his back, as he strode out of the room, was stiff with annoyance. He had to duck his head as he went through the doorway. The thin man scuttled after him; then the door was shut.

Wiki listened to their steps go off down the hallway until they faded with distance. Then Captain Wilkes, sounding businesslike, said, “The Portsmouth sheriff gave me a letter to hand over to you if circumstances demanded it; and though he did not make his thoughts at all clear, this suicide
does
seem to be the kind of thing he had in mind because we can't get
around
the fact that Burroughs was Stanton's cousin.”

Then he groped around in a pocket, came up with a folded wad of paper, and handed it to Wiki, who was feeling extremely puzzled. It was not some strange mistake, he saw, because the name “William Coffin Jr.” was clearly inscribed on the front. When he looked up, Captain Wilkes said, “It's a letter of authority, along with instructions concerning how to send reports of your progress with the Stanton murder case. I was also requested to assist you to such extent as I see fit. Oh, for heaven's sake,” he said irritably, when Wiki stared. “Read it and see for yourself.”

It was a grand parchment affair, highly embellished with a seal, a red ribbon, the coat of arms of the port, and a number of impressive-looking signatures. The text authorized the bearer, William Coffin Jr., to act on behalf of the sheriff's department of Portsmouth, Virginia, and demanded full cooperation and assistance as the said William Coffin Jr. might request.
Dear God,
Wiki thought, and only barely stopped himself from shaking his head. It did not surprise him that the sheriff, who had struck him as an obstinate character, was pursuing the investigation from afar; but he would never have guessed that he'd be the one chosen as his proxy—though, now that he thought about it, the sheriff had been heavily hinting at something like this when he'd come on board the
Swallow
with the boat that had delivered Astronomer Stanton.

He looked back at Captain Wilkes with a frown, his mind racing. “So you believe, sir, that Astronomer Burroughs's suicide is connected in some way with Mrs. Stanton's murder?”

“I don't believe anything,” Wilkes said testily. “Burroughs was a very private person about whom I know very little. I accepted him for the expedition
only
because of Stanton's strong recommendation, and even then he was assigned to the
Porpoise.
If Stanton hadn't been delayed by the obsequies for his wife, Burroughs wouldn't have been on the
Vincennes
at all. But the requirement of the navy was that an astronomer should be on board the flagship, and so I was forced to bring him over.”

“Stanton
recommended
him?” Wiki exclaimed, disregarding the rest.

“He gave him a most glowing recommendation.”

“But they're supposed to be enemies!”

“Evidently you were misinformed,” Captain Wilkes said coldly. When his lips were no longer curved in that fixed smile, the contrast was quite intimidating. “Which makes me wonder why the sheriff of Portsmouth should have chosen
you
to be his deputy,” he went on with a snap.

“The sheriff didn't tell you?”

“He did not.”

“I see,” said Wiki. He paused, thinking hard, and then said, “On the night Mrs. Stanton was killed, someone came to the Stanton house. Two of the servants testified that it was Mr. Tristram Stanton himself. But more than a dozen officers from the fleet gave evidence that he was at a banquet in Newport News at the time.”

“I already know that,” Captain Wilkes said, his tone impatient.

“Which left the identity of the man who came to the house a mystery—a mystery that the sheriff would very much like to solve,” Wiki doggedly went on. “The imposter was quite an actor—he convinced one of the servants that he was the master, which couldn't have been easy. He had to have the distinctive Stanton voice, and he had to know the house quite well—not only did he address this fellow by name, but he went unerringly into Mrs. Stanton's room.”

“So?”

“One man who might have managed to bring it off was Mr. Stanton's cousin, Astronomer Burroughs.”

Captain Wilkes frowned. “You really believe that Burroughs—a
most
respectable man in his profession—would try a trick like that? Why in God's name would he do such a thing?”

“I agree that it sounds very strange, sir.”

“But the sheriff wants you to chase up this strange notion?”

“Well, of course he doesn't know that Burroughs hanged himself,” Wiki said. “And I haven't read his instructions yet either. But I expect you're right. I should say it's possible he would regard the suicide as an admission of guilt.”

“But how can you possibly prove it? Your suspect has put an end to himself and left you with nothing but guesses!”

“If I could talk to Burroughs's assistant—a fellow by the name of Grimes—maybe it would help.”

“Then do it,” said Captain Wilkes, and turned away decisively to ring a small bell for the steward.

Nine

Grimes turned out to be the man who had been assisting Stanton, which did not surprise Wiki at all. On Captain Wilkes's instructions, they were closeted together in one of the staterooms that ran off the passage—a cramped room so full of equipment and supplies that it was obvious no one slept there. Strong hooks were driven into the massive ceiling beams—for hammocks or mosquito netting, Wiki assumed—and large net bags of onions hung from these, filling the air with a dusty, pungent smell. Looking around, he spied a box and sat on a corner of it to study his companion.

Enough light seeped in a sidelight window for Wiki to be struck yet again by the misery on the thin man's face. Added to it was a kind of muted horror at being trapped in this small space with a South Seas savage, so Wiki kept his voice gentle as he said, “Captain Wilkes has asked me to investigate the sad death of your employer.”

A flicker of stunned incredulity briefly altered the tragic expression.
“You?”

“The sheriff of Portsmouth has deputized me as his agent on board the expedition.”

And Wiki handed over the letter of authority. As he watched the astronomer squint at the flourishing words, he mused wryly that Grimes looked just about as thunderstruck as he himself had felt when he'd first read it. However, the astronomer made no comment as he handed it back, so Wiki began the cross-examination.

“You were greatly attached to Mr. Burroughs?”

Grimes's expression immediately softened. “Mr. Burroughs was a fine gentleman, completely wedded to his craft.”

“You'd worked with him for a long time?”

“Five years—nearly six—but it was more than that, you understand. All his life was astronomy—we worked together just about twenty-four hours of every day and night. He was a great man, sir—if he had survived, the expedition would have made him truly famous. The world would have appreciated his gift for science.”

“Coming on this expedition was very important to him?”

“Certainly. Everyone knows,” said Grimes, with a hint of reproof in his tone, “that the scientifics who are lucky enough to be part of this discovery fleet are bound for honor and glory.”

“But was he nervous or apprehensive when he boarded?”

“He was in the highest of spirits—and even more so when we were shifted from the
Porpoise
to the
Vincennes.
He was most conscious of the honor of being on board the flagship, particularly as Captain Wilkes is well known in the astronomical way.”

“So you had no expectations whatsoever that Mr. Burroughs was likely to—”

“To commit suicide?” Grimes burst out. “I was shocked, never so shocked in my life! I—I couldn't believe it—I—I still can't take it in!”

There were tears running down his face. Wiki tactfully waited, looking down at his hands instead of watching the other man's misery. Then he said, “When did you find out that you were joining the expedition?”

“Not until the start of August. Mr. Burroughs had applied for a place with the discovery ships many times, pressing his case with the Department of the Navy. For a while he had high hopes of Commodore Thomas ap Catesby Jones, but then Commodore Jones resigned and Mr. Burroughs had to start all over again. And it was not until the beginning of August that he at long last got a satisfactory answer. It was a triumph—a triumph of persistence.”

“Was it a surprise to you?”

“It was only what he deserved, a great man like him! He was a better astronomer than other men I could name!”

There was sharp anger mixed with the deep sorrow on the other man's face. Wiki tried another tack, saying patiently, “Did he have much to do with his cousin Stanton?”

Silence. Grimes pursed his lips and for a moment seemed on the verge of coming out with something, but in the end he merely muttered, “He got the position on the strength of Mr. Stanton's recommendation.”

“So Captain Wilkes told me. Did you expect Mr. Stanton to do him such a big favor?”

Another long pause, while Grimes perceptibly made up his mind about how much to confide. Then he mumbled, “I—I think a sizeable sum of money might've changed hands. Mr. Stanton was very much in need of the ready, and Mr. Burroughs was willing to pay anything—a small fortune, if necessary—to come along on the expedition.”

So bribery was a distinct possibility. Wiki, thinking that the chances that Burroughs had been the murderer of Mrs. Stanton were rapidly increasing, said, “Do you remember what day you and Mr. Burroughs came on board the
Vincennes?
”

“It was just a couple of days before the fleet sailed. Afore that, we was on board the
Porpoise
—a whole two weeks we was there. As soon as he got the news that he'd been accepted, Mr. Burroughs started moving his equipment on board.”

Wiki said in a flat voice, “Oh.” He couldn't help it—his theories had been building up so neatly, and yet they were so easily exploded. Burroughs could not possibly have been the imposter if he was on board the
Porpoise
at the time. Realizing this, he felt dashed.

He said, “You were living on the
Porpoise
right up to the day you were removed to the
Vincennes?
A whole two weeks?”

“Well,” said Grimes judiciously, “I wouldn't call it
living.
We still slept on shore.”

“Ah.” This was a different matter altogether. “And did Mr. Burroughs go out in the evening at all? I know the scientifics were in great demand as guests,” Wiki prompted.

“Only one night, he did.”

“Do you remember when?”

Wiki held his breath as Grimes calculated, muttering under his breath, but the date was the right one—it was the same night the man who had passed himself off as the master of the house had called at the plantation and Mrs. Stanton was murdered.

Wiki said tentatively, “I don't suppose you'd have any idea where he went?”