A Watery Grave (33 page)

Flailing as he fell, Keith hit the water with a sickening crash. Down he sank, and the world turned bubbling and green.

*   *   *

Wiki was standing in the boat, one hand gripping the mast, while above his head the great flag alternately flapped and sagged, so that the twenty-six stars winked and twinkled and the seven brilliant red stripes seemed to wriggle with menace. He saw the distant figure tumble down to the sea, but his concentration was on the snout of the cannon that was aimed directly at them. Even at this distance, it seemed as huge as doom.

Then he saw Tristram Stanton at the rail. He saw him dip, as if to pick something up, and straighten with something in his hand, and turn as if to go to the gun. There was a distant spark, and a little whiff of smoke as the astronomer held his hand in front of his mouth, as if he was blowing a flame to life.
He had the slow match,
Wiki realized with horror, and the cannon was aimed to blow them all to hell—and all at once a brawny, tattooed arm snaked around his throat, cramming his right ear tight against the mast.

Something hard and narrow pressed across the top of his right shoulder, and the tip of a rifle barrel slid into the bottom half of his vision.

Forsythe's voice grated in his left ear, “Hold very still.”

Wiki braced himself, feeling the warm wood of the mast hard against his cheek, the weight of the rifle barrel, and the intensity of Forsythe's concentration. The wind had dropped again, and the boat scarcely moved on the flat, calm sea. He could smell Forsythe's rank odor and hear the slow harsh intake of breath. The breath was sucked in, held—and there was an almighty explosion.

When Wiki gasped, “My God!” with shock, he was so deafened he could not hear his own voice—but Stanton's distant figure had disappeared, dropped to the deck by the shot. For the first time Wiki really and truly understood that the southerner was an outstanding marksman. Then he abruptly realized his shoulder had been scorched with the exploding gas from the breech, wrenched himself free, and dived over the side into the cool water.

His hearing came back as the burn eased. Wiki held on to the side of the boat, looking over to where Midshipman Keith was floundering, noting that sometime in the interval the
Swallow
had put down the second boat, because he could see it now, determinedly heading for the
Vincennes
with Lieutenant Smith in the stern sheets.

He looked at Sua, saying, “
E hoa.
The barrel—secure it, and bring it into the boat, handsomely, now—gently—and open it very carefully.” Then he added in Samoan, “My friend is imprisoned inside.” Sua nodded with complete understanding, and Wiki struck out to rescue the drowning midshipman.

Epilogue

Wiki hoisted himself over the gangway to the deck of the Vincennes with the aid of a thrown rope and a number of helping hands, his white-faced, miserably gulping, but nevertheless deeply grateful piece of human flotsam heaved up in front of him. Then he straightened and looked about—at a scene of utter chaos. Red-coated marines rushed past in a rhythmic stamp of boots and rattle of arms, responding to an uproar of conflicting commands. Gun-carriage wheels grated and men cursed in panic-stricken shouts as cannon were run out and brought to bear on Forsythe's boat, now jerkily pulling toward the Vincennes and getting closer by the moment. Officers were screaming at their gun crews to hold their fire, as boats loaded with marines dropped down on the water.

Fifteen yards off, Forsythe's boat stilled. The southerner's stance was tense as he stood at the steering oar, waiting for the soldiers to come alongside. The wind that had reached them was stiffening, so that the brilliant flag blew out straight, revealing George Rochester sitting in the middle thwarts, slumped but indubitably alive. Wiki felt a rush of overwhelming relief. George looked up, as if he sensed Wiki's searching stare, and grinned and waved. Hunkered protectively at Rochester's shoulder, Sua looked up, too, and punched a triumphant fist in the air. Then Wiki abruptly became aware of a shrill commotion on the quarterdeck.

Captain Wilkes's voice was raised in one of the tirades that had become so unpleasantly familiar to every man in the fleet—save that this rant sounded unusually hysterical. The general uproar silenced as men who had been watching Forsythe and the boat's crew being apprehended turned from the rail to stare in puzzlement at their captain instead. The quartermaster and First Lieutenant standing to each side of Wilkes were extremely wooden faced. Captain Wilkes was white lipped, his forehead gleaming with sweat; he looked on the brink of vomiting or fainting. Wiki mused uneasily that it was a very bad omen that the commander of the expedition should suddenly go to pieces like this, when the great challenges of the Antarctic and the Pacific lay ahead.

Captain Wilkes was shaking a long, trembling finger at the starboard gun crew. The ten men were standing in a shocked semicircle, closely surrounded by marines, the corpse of the astronomer at their feet. “Give me the name of the son of a bitch who struck down Mr. Stanton!” he screamed at their numb faces. “Where is the bastard who murdered Astronomer Stanton? By God, I will hang him—I'll flay him and throttle him! Say a name!”

Not one of the gun crew attempted to answer. The eyes of the loaders and rammers flickered toward their gun captain, but he merely stared straight ahead, his form absolutely rigid, while every manjack on deck and in the rigging watched and waited. So concentrated was their attention that everyone jumped with surprise when Lieutenant Smith hove into view at the gangway.

He did not seem to notice, instead trotting furiously along the deck and exclaiming, “Captain Wilkes! Why did I have to come to report an emergency? Why did no one respond? Did you not see my signal?”

Wiki saw Wilkes's hands clench as he turned to face the choleric little man. “Of course we saw your bloody signal!” he savagely snapped. “But you didn't bother to let us know what
kind
of goddamned emergency you referred to! Was it that the brig was on fire? On the verge of foundering? Caught in irons on a lee shore?” he went on with vicious sarcasm. “Outnumbered by the enemy? Boarded by pirates? Your signal was not at all
clear,
sir!”

“I signaled that I had a mutiny on board—mutiny,” said Smith, completely unshaken by the verbal attack. “That's what that signal represents, and I am surprised and disappointed that no one knew it.”

“Captain Wilkes, sir,” the quartermaster protested. “It's absolutely the first I have ever heard of that blue flag with the hole in the hoist meaning mutiny. Here's my book, if you don't believe me.”

“A gross disobedience of orders is what it means, sir,” Smith snapped, “a severe interference in the orderly running of the ship. It was an insurrection inspired by Wiremu Coffin, who has betrayed the great confidence we placed in him when we appointed him to the position of expedition linguister. But Lieutenant Forsythe is equally guilty, if not more so. When I tried to resist, he manhandled me, sir, shoved me to the deck—I was overpowered, sir, in the course of my proper duty!”

“For God's sake!” Wilkes roared. “He was the one in charge of the ship! He had every right to shove you to the deck if you interfered with his command! And can't you see that we have emergency enough already? Our astronomer has been
murdered,
sir—foully cut down in the prime of his life!—and I am determined to search out the man responsible and see him dangling from the mainyard.”

Wiki felt someone brush past him. It was Midshipman Keith, pale and painwracked but very determined, blurting, “Captain Wilkes, sir—”

“Oh, for God's sake!” exclaimed Wilkes. “What is it
now?
”

“It is my painful duty to report that Astronomer Stanton—” Keith's voice failed, and he had to cough and start again. “That he—he was determined to seize control of my gun and blow Mr. Coffin's boat out of the water, sir—it was an attack on the U.S. flag, Old Glory herself, sir! I tried my best to restrain him, but he bested me. I offer my sincere apologies. I wish I had done better, but he threw me over the rail after crippling my poor shoulder—which I have to confess is in awful agony, and I would thank the surgeon kindly for his attention. Personally, I think the man who felled Astronomer Stanton should get a medal,” he candidly added.

“
What
did you say?” roared Wilkes—and at that moment Lieutenant Forsythe clambered up onto deck, closely followed by a string of marines.

Ignoring his escort, the southerner strode over to where Tristram Stanton's body was sprawled on the planks, oozing fluids from the hole in his skull. He hunkered down, had a brief look, and then rose to his feet again, his expression sour. “Damn,” he said into the riveted silence, his tone quite dispassionate. “I was aiming for a gut shot.”

“Lieutenant—” Captain Wilkes said, and then stopped. His expression was stunned.

“My cousin was a silly bloody bitch, but I liked her.” Forsythe turned to Wiki and executed a mock salute. “Now it's your turn, Mr. Deputy Coffin,” he said, and then looked at Wilkes. “This remarkable sleuth here will explain it all to your entire satisfaction,” he assured the expedition's commander. Then he folded his arms and, like everyone else, waited for Wiki to begin.

Wiki shifted, grimaced, braced himself—and was forestalled by a huge shout of
“Ship ahoy!”
from high above.

“Ship?” cried Captain Wilkes. “What ship?”

“The
Peacock!
” cried five lookouts at once, from all over the rigging. “And in a hell of a hurry,” observed one, in a voice not meant to carry, but which did. “Wind two p'ints abaft her beam and she's flying like the devil's on her tail. And flying a dozen urgent signals, too!”

“Oh, bloody
hell!
” Captain Wilkes exclaimed. “
More
goddamned signals? What
else
has this dreadful day got in store?”

A Few Recommendations for Those Interested in the Saga of the Exploring Expedition

Erskine, Charles.
Twenty Years Before the Mast: with the more thrilling scenes and incidents while circumnavigating the globe under the command of the late Admiral Charles Wilkes 1838–1842.
Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1985.

Philbrick, Nathaniel.
Sea of Glory: America's Voyage of Discovery, the U.S. Exploring Expedition 1838–1842.
New York: Viking, 2003.

Reynolds, William.
Voyage to the Southern Ocean: The Letters of Lieutenant William Reynolds from the U.S. Exploring Expedition, 1838–1842.
Edited by Anne Hoffman Cleaver and E. Jeffrey Stann (and with an excellent introduction and epilogue by Herman J. Viola). Annapolis, Md.: Naval Institute Press, 1988.

Stanton, William.
The Great United States Exploring Expedition of 1838–1842.
Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1975.

Viola, Herman J., and Carolyn Margolis, eds.
Magnificent Voyagers: The U.S. Exploring Expedition, 1838–1842.
Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1985.

Wilkes, Charles.
Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition.
5 vols. 1844. Reprint, Upper Saddle River, N.J.: Gregg Press, 1970.

ALSO BY JOAN DRUETT

NONFICTION

In the Wake of Madness

Rough Medicine

She Captains

Hen Frigates

The Sailing Circle
(with Mary Anne Wallace)

Captain's Daughter, Coasterman's Wife

“She Was a Sister Sailor”
(editor)

Petticoat Whalers

Fulbright in New Zealand

Exotic Intruders

FICTION

Abigail

A Promise of Gold

Murder at the Brian Boru

A WATERY GRAVE.
Copyright © 2004 by Joan Druett. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.minotaurbooks.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Druett, Joan.

A watery grave / Joan Druett.

p. cm.

ISBN 0-312-33441-9 (hc)

ISBN 0-312-33442-7 (pbk)

EAN 978-0-312-33442-0

1. United States Exploring Expedition (1838–1842)—Fiction. 2. Americans—Foreign countries—Fiction. 3. Scientific expeditions—Fiction. 4. Explorers—Fiction. 5. Linguists—Fiction. I. Title.

PR9639.3.D68W37 2004

823'.914—dc22

2004049572

eISBN 9781466855007

First eBook edition: September 2013