Run Afoul (27 page)

The assigned meeting place was Ithocaia, just twelve miles from Praia Grande, and though the brig had much farther to sail, having to negotiate the harbor mouth, it did not take long to get there. After a short search for good holding ground, George dropped anchor in a secluded bay at five bells in the afternoon watch, when the sun was still very high.

It was siesta, and far too early to go on shore, so Wiki lingered on the quarterdeck, leaning on the rail under the shade of an awning. The sand was blinding white, and he could hear the rhythmic thud of surf. A road ran parallel to the beach, branching off into a path that led through trees to an ancient-looking building on a hillock, painted white, with a row of blue-shuttered windows, and a solid stone bastion at one end. This, Wiki knew, was the fazenda where the scientifics were scheduled to stay the night, but there was no movement on the road, not even when the shadows grew long.

Wiki gave up waiting, and asked for a boat to be lowered to take him to shore. The sand was still burning hot when he waded onto the beach, so he hopped about, putting on his boots, and by the time he looked up again, the boat was well on the way back to the brig. Turning, he found a well-kept walkway leading up the slope through filmy trees. Immediately below the building, it became a wide granite stairway with shallow steps, and at the top of this he passed through a gateway in one of the walls, and found himself in a courtyard.

With wonderful timing, the owner of this establishment rode into the courtyard at the same moment that Wiki walked up to the house, and his wife appeared at the door. They made Wiki very welcome, and expressed great pleasure at the prospect of entertaining the scientifics and their escorts for the night. Then, they sat at a big refectory table and nibbled at snacks, made polite conversation, and waited. The sun set without the appearance of the party. At midnight, when the huge meal was finally served, Wiki was the only guest, and when he was ushered to the capacious guest quarters, he had them all to himself.

At ten the next morning dust puffed at the far end of the road, and gradually specks resolved into men, mules, and horses. Dr. Olliver smiled benignly from the shade of his large straw hat as he swayed from side to side on his huge mule, which was being hassled along by Lieutenant Forsythe, who was very obviously in a foul temper. The other five scientifics looked tired and frustrated, and Sir Patrick Palgrave was very tight-lipped. As Captain Coffin communicated to Wiki in an infuriated undertone, Dr. Olliver had vanished into the jungle not once, but three times, retarding the party so greatly that they had been forced to spend the night at a miserable little
venda.
Then, despite instructions from both Sir Patrick and Forsythe to turn out bright and early this morning, Dr. Olliver had not only risen late, but had delayed them still further by engaging in a long argument with the proprietor of the
venda
—quite ignoring the fact that the innkeeper did not understand a word of English.

Dr. Olliver couldn't see what all the fuss was about. Instead of deigning to notice that everyone else was maddened by his complete lack of consideration for others, he rhapsodized to Wiki about the forests—and the insects!—and the frogs, lizards, snakes, and monkeys!—quite unaware that Couthouy, Drayton, Agate, Pickering, and Dyes had been equally entranced with the abundance of plant and animal life, but had been forced to stand around waiting for him, instead of investigating these wonders. Dr. Olliver's unfortunate fellow scientifics had done hardly any collecting—but, as Wiki saw with alarm when the mules were unloaded, Dr. Olliver had not just fallen in love with the riotous plants, but had gathered twigs, seeds, and blossoms from them all.

Captain Wilkes's reaction if even a fraction of this were transported back to the flagship was quite predictable—and Wiki felt sure that George Rochester would refuse to take it all on board the brig, anyway. Going out of earshot of Dr. Olliver, he asked Drayton and Agate, who were good, obliging fellows, to draw the specimens as soon as they had finished breakfast, and suggested to Forsythe that they should be discarded as soon as they were sketched.

Then, belatedly, he saw that Sir Patrick was trying to get his attention. The scarred Englishman was standing by his horse, with the reins in his hand. “The party will stop here tonight,” he said curtly. “I'm going on ahead to tell the rest that from now on they'll be twenty-four hours later than scheduled.” Without waiting for an answer, he sprang into the saddle and rode off, his horse's hooves clattering as he cantered down the flight of shallow steps.

Wiki walked to the beach, put up a signal for a boat, boarded the brig, and told Rochester about the twenty-four-hour delay. “Well, at least it means we have a day at leisure, old chap,” said George placidly. Consequently, when Captain Coffin walked down the strand and hailed the
Swallow,
he had to wait a while for anyone to notice, because Wiki and George were loafing in the captain's cabin. Rochester was slouched in the wooden armchair at his chart desk, his bare feet waving in the breeze that wafted in the open sternlights, while Wiki lay stretched out on the sofa, with a mug of coffee propped between his hands on his chest. Midshipman Keith, who was the only officer on deck, was the one who eventually sent a boat for the visitor.

As Captain Coffin came into the cabin, the folio of completed drawings under his arm, both Wiki and George straightened up guiltily. Wiki moved along to make space on the settee, and, while his father told them about Dr. Olliver's screams and protestations as Forsythe had obdurately discarded the specimens, he sorted through the sketches. He was entranced, and wished he had watched the draftsmen creating these miraculous things. Orchids and insects, exquisitely detailed, seemed to leap off the pages.

As he admired them, he listened to his father and George exchange yarns. George reminisced about his dog days as a junior midshipman, and his father told tall tales about his adventures as a privateersman in the war for free trade and sailors' rights, when the
Osprey
was very new. The atmosphere was very companionable, he thought, and marveled yet again at the warm friendship his friend and his father had struck up so quickly. In fact, he felt quite neglected. However, when shadows became long, and Sua and Tana sent a message down into the cabin inquiring if Wiki wanted to lower a boat and go fishing, Captain Coffin asked if he could come, too.

The fish were biting well, and after returning the first one caught as a tribute to the ancestor guardian of the sea, they made a great haul. For the first half hour, Wiki thought his father was enjoying himself, but then he noticed his withdrawn expression as he listened to the two islanders chatting in their own language. Wiki had been translating for his father's benefit, but got so little response that he stopped trying, giving himself over to the fishing and good companionship instead.

Dusk loomed, and after leaving enough fish for a good mess for all hands, Wiki and the two Samoans accompanied his father to the fazenda, carrying the rest of the haul as a contribution toward the party's supper. They found the six scientifics sitting around the big table. Dr. Olliver, by some magic, had his decanter with him, and lifted his wineglass, saying with a jocular air, “What a pity Robert Festin isn't one of our number, so we know who to blame if that fish gives us all the squits!”

Wiki winced, and Olliver himself was the only one who laughed. “What was that about?” his father demanded, as he kept Wiki company on the walk back to the beach.

Wiki told him about Festin, the fish, and Grimes.

“Grimes got the gripes, and blamed it on Festin's fried fish?”

“He also blamed me for bringing the fish on board, and the steward for carrying the fried fish to the cabin—even though it made no one else sick.”

“So, what
did
give him the diarrhea?”

Wiki frowned. He hadn't given this enough thought, he realized. “Forsythe reckons the steward sprinkled a dose of salts on the top two fish—the ones Grimes took, as he was the first to be served.”

“But the steward had no idea who would take the top two fish—so why would he do it?”

Wiki didn't want to go into the strange processes of Forsythe's logic, so he merely said, “Just to make trouble, I suppose.”

“Forsythe's a fool,” said Captain Coffin. Though not, Wiki noticed, with quite the same contempt that had been in his voice when he had talked about Forsythe before. Evidently, the day of shared trials had made a difference.

“But
something
upset Grimes's stomach,” he went on. “So what else could it be?”

Wiki said slowly, “Dr. Guillou said that Grimes was in his usual state of health when he left the
Porpoise,
and Dr. Gilchrist said that whatever gave him the diarrhea had to be eaten within the past ten hours, which means it was something he ate on the
Vincennes
—so it must have been the pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“Festin made a special pudding for him, one that no one else was given.”

However, Wiki thought, that wasn't logical, either, because Festin's obvious—and very naïve—motive had been bribery, pure and simple. It was impossible to believe that he would deliberately make the instrumentmaker sick. If it was something in the pudding, it must have been there by accident.

His father was scratching one ear, deep in thought as he watched the two Samoans stride with stalwart dignity ahead of them.

“Festin's cookery is thought of very highly around here,” he observed.

“So I gathered,” said Wiki dryly.

“Maybe it wasn't the food. What did Grimes have to drink?”

Wiki paused, abruptly remembering that just before Grimes had died, Jack Winter had been most insistent that not only had he not touched the wine that belonged to Dr. Olliver, but that he'd given none to Grimes. Now Wiki wondered if Jack Winter had been hinting that there was something wrong with the wine. Dr. Olliver—just like today—had never shared the wine with anyone, but on that particular evening, Wiki remembered, Forsythe had helped himself liberally, and had suffered no ill effects. But had Grimes drunk something else? He resolved to ask the steward about it, after getting back to Rio.

“Well,” said Captain Coffin, getting tired of the long silence. “I'll see you tomorrow afternoon.” The next rendezvous was at Lagoa Maricá, which should be no more than a five-hour trek away—if all went well. Which depended very much on Dr. Olliver, Wiki thought with great misgivings.

Twenty

To the great satisfaction of all on board the brig, the sun was only barely above the horizon when they watched the scientific party trail out onto the road and gradually disappear. As soon as the morning breeze rose, the
Swallow
put on her sails, and followed them, wafting gently along a coast that was becoming a great deal more barren, and rimmed with loud surf. Though they were taking observations and sounding the bottom at regular intervals while George marked up his charts, it didn't take long at all to reach their goal.

Another safe cove was found, the anchor dropped, and Wiki contemplated a new scene from under the re-rigged awning. In the middle distance, within thin groves of filmy trees and clumps of palms, he could see a broad patch of shimmering light—a marsh that exploded with spectacular birdlife. Cranes and egrets swarmed and swooped, while, in the distance, granite hills marched across the sky. Nearer, the house where the scientifics would stay for the night hunched close to the arid, cactus-studded ground under its heavy terra-cotta roof. Cattle grazed in the scanty shade of stubby trees, but if they lowed it was impossible to hear them. Wiki's ears were filled with the rush and thunder of surf.

It was only just past noon when he glimpsed the scientifics in the distance, and hastily asked for a boat. Getting through the surf was exciting, but then the bottom bumped on grit, and Wiki jumped out and waded through the waves. After putting on his boots, he headed up the beach, finding to his surprise that the miserable-looking trees smelled very sweet. On investigation, he found that most of what he had thought of as their foliage was a kind of parasitic orchid which was richly perfumed, and he wondered if they were the kind that Sir Patrick collected.

He walked on, while the cattle looked at him curiously and he wondered what they ate. The fazenda proved to be a sprawling complex focused on one main house, a big place built of thick upright posts with plaster in between, the wood of the pillars cracked and pale. The front of the building was open, and the massive tiled roof extended over it for some distance, creating an outdoor place for eating. In a corner of the courtyard a spit with a whole dressed sheep was turning over a low fire. As if drawn by the good aroma, the scientific party arrived, just as their host, a good-looking older man by the name of de Silviera, appeared at the door.

Forsythe was looking grimly pleased with himself, while the six scientifics were very subdued. Then Captain Coffin revealed to Wiki that a man on a horse had been glimpsed lying in wait in a thicket beside the trail—a bandit, obviously, because he had shot at them. Luckily, he had been too impatient to hold his fire until they had come within range. Forsythe and Couthouy had galloped toward him, firing their own guns, and the horseman had fled through the trees.

Senhor de Silviera was very concerned when he heard about it, as it sounded very much as if the armed man had been a lookout for a gang. “They're cimarrons,” he said. “Runaway slaves.”

After they had first escaped, these cimarrons established a settlement of thatched huts high in the hills, and scratched a quiet living from the soil. Then, however, the village had been stormed by a contingent of Brazilian soldiers. The troopers had recaptured everyone they had found, save for one woman who had thrown herself off a cliff rather than be enslaved again. Those of the young men who had been out hunting had escaped, and were now living in the wilderness, and preying on passing travelers.