Run Afoul (21 page)

Both Captain Wilkes and Lieutenant Smith laughed merrily at the little joke, and then Smith said, “Of course, Captain Wilkes!”

“This invariable pendulum,” said Wilkes, sobering as he returned to his subject, “was provided to me by the astronomer Francis Baily, who has encouraged enterprising commanders to set up the experiment in as many latitudes of the world as possible. Because our mission is so wide-ranging, he nurses the most lively hopes that we will collate enough data to ascertain the gravitational constant G, by determining the median density of the earth.”

No one said a word. Wiki, like everyone else, watched raptly as Captain Wilkes lifted the candle, and carefully set fire to the part of the string that was closest to the bob. As they gazed, the string burned through, and the pendulum, smoothly released, began its great swing. Back and forth it went, powerfully but gently, with such obstinate force that it looked as if it would swing like this forever. It was a grand and solemn moment.

“This pendulum, which is exactly sixty-eight inches long,” said Captain Wilkes, “is naturally swinging at a different rate from the much shorter pendulum in the clock behind it, because the period of a pendulum's swing depends on that pendulum's length.”

Again, he paused. His face was tilted upward and he stroked his chin as he searched for words, gazing unseeingly into space—which was lucky, thought Wiki, because it meant that he didn't notice that he had lost his audience. The midshipmen, who had glimpsed the rats, were jogging their shipmates in the ribs as they surreptitiously pointed them out. One by one, the senior officers saw them, too. Their eyes moved from side to side as they watched the animals scurry along the walls.

“Every now and then, however,” said Captain Wilkes, returning his contemplative stare to the men, but still unaware of what was happening, “the arcs will coincide—the big pendulum will be in line with the smaller pendulum in the clock.
Your
job, gentlemen, is to record the exact time when this happens,” he informed them, and all the stares jerked back to his face, the rats forgotten as everyone abruptly grasped the implications of what he'd just said—that there was a long, exacting task ahead of them, one that was guaranteed to be stupefyingly boring.

“The constant watch will be kept by officers in turns,” Wilkes went on, “so that precise observation continues for twenty-four hours a day. By conscientious notation of each and every coincidence, we will eventually obtain sufficient data to ascertain the
exact
period of time taken by the big pendulum to execute a single swing from one extremity to the other in this place. And, once we have that
exact
period, gentlemen, we can calculate the force of gravity here.”

“Weigh the world, sir?” said Midshipman Fisher brightly.

Captain Wilkes smiled. “As Henry Cavendish prophesied as far back as the year 1783, once G is known, the mass of the earth can be calculated from the rate of gravitational acceleration on the earth's surface. In other words, we can indeed weigh the world,” he benignly agreed—and a deafening shot rang out.

Everyone jumped a foot, and the officers who'd had battle experience threw themselves flat on the floor. Wiki jerked round to look at Forsythe, and found, as expected, that his rifle was smoking. Then he turned his stare to Captain Wilkes, who was definitely shocked but not at all scared, shaking with pure rage instead.

“What the bloody
hell
do you think you are doing?” he screamed at the Virginian. “Don't you realize that gravitational experiments demand a low-noise, low-vibration environment—or are you just a completely
ignorant
goddamned bastard?”

Low noise, low vibration—and Captain Wilkes carried out private gravitational experiments? Wiki suddenly put two and two together, and realized that there might be a very good reason for the infamous tirades that happened each time some unfortunate soul in the room next door dropped something heavy or made a commotion.

At the same time, however, he was staring raptly at Forsythe, just like everyone else, as Captain Wilkes screamed, “Give me a reason, sir—why the
hell
did you do it?”

Instead of answering, the Virginian pointed his rifle at the six-foot, rust-red-colored snake that was writhing out the last of its life against the back wall. Evidently it had wriggled into the hole in pursuit of the rats, blocking the light as it waited there until it sighted its prey—and then it had hurtled out, ready to strike, but instead to meet an abrupt end.

A marine sergeant shoved past Wiki, closely pursued by a half-dozen marines. “Is all well, sir?” he hollered, and then lurched to a stop as he sighted the serpent, which had worked itself into a final knot. “Aha,” he said, “is that what it is, sir? ‘Fer-de-lance,' they call 'em here, sir, and vicious reptiles they are, too. There's a nest of 'em somewhere about this place, and they've come out after the rats. I'm glad you got him first, sir, afore he could get at you. We've surprised two already, sir, and lucky not to lose a man, we were, on account of they strike on sight, without warning. Nasty creatures, very nasty.”

Captain Wilkes had his eyes tight shut, and was obviously battling with his emotions. When he opened them, he turned to Lieutenant Smith, and demanded, “Was there a ricochet? Was the equipment damaged?”

A hurried inspection, and then Lawrence J. Smith reported that all was well. The great pendulum swung on in oblivious grandeur. However, when Captain Wilkes turned to face Forsythe, his pallor was marked, and the lips that had been so happily upturned during his lecture were now pressed tightly together.

“I have decided to deny you the privilege of taking part in this historic experiment, Lieutenant Forsythe,” he said frostily. “Instead, you can practice your marksmanship elsewhere. The brig
Swallow
will be making a week-long survey of the coast as far as Macae, while a party of scientifics will trek through the jungles and marshes on a parallel path, charting the natural phenomena of the region—and you will accompany those naturalists, and take charge of them, and—and protect them from these—these fer-de-lance.”

“Aye, sir,” said Forsythe very humbly.

Wiki had never seen him so polite and submissive. Then he realized that the big southerner was undergoing a Herculean internal struggle—to hide his utter disbelief and boundless delight at this highly unexpected reprieve.

Sixteen

Having vented his wrath, Captain Wilkes embarked on the much more pleasant task of assigning men to the job of rostering the pendulum observations—which, as threatened, were to be kept up day and night until it was time for the fleet to leave Rio. During the process, Wiki suddenly recognized one of the officers—Passed Midshipman Ernest Erskine, who had been George Rochester's second-in-command when Wiki had first joined the brig
Swallow,
in Norfolk, Virginia, back in August. Erskine, who looked older than the rest of the senior midshipmen because of a certain primness in his demeanor, was a courtly fellow with old-fashioned good manners. After Captain Wilkes, in one of his tempers, had shifted him onto the
Porpoise,
everyone on the
Swallow
had been sad to see him go.

When Wiki accosted him, Erskine immediately said, “How goes it with the brig?” After being reassured that she had survived the collision, he remarked, “I heard that she got off very lightly—much more lightly than the other ship.”

“That's true,” said Wiki. “The
Osprey
is hove down at the shipyard now.”

“And lucky to be there. Other men would have left her to sink.” It was obvious by Erskine's tone that he admired George Rochester greatly.

“What do you mean?” asked Wiki, puzzled, and for the first time learned about George's gallantry in saving the
Osprey,
when he could so much more easily have taken her captain and crew on board, and then left her to founder. He had wondered about the warm friendship that his father and his best shipmate had evidently struck up, and now could guess the reason.

Then he said, “Did you have much to do with Astronomer Grimes when he lived on the
Porpoise?
”

“He kept to himself. I had the impression he was reclusive by nature.”

“What about mealtimes?”

“He took a tray to his room. I think he worked while he ate.”

“Was he ever sick?”

“He coughed at lot, I noticed, but I never heard him complain of being ill.”

“Did he ever seek the attentions of the surgeon?”

“Dr. Guillou? Not that I noticed. You will have to ask him.”

Wiki had to be satisfied with that, because a bell was struck in the convent portico, and Erskine bid a hasty goodbye. Belatedly, he realized that Captain Wilkes, looking very impatient, was beckoning imperiously in his direction.

Captain Wilkes turned and stalked out into the cloisters, and Wiki hurried after him, up a winding flight of narrow stone stairs that led to a small chamber. This, it was immediately evident, had been taken over by the captain as his private quarters. A narrow bed had been set up in a corner, but otherwise the room was packed with desks, chairs, and tables.

In his characteristic fashion, Captain Wilkes walked to the other side of a desk before turning to face Wiki; it was always as if he wanted to put some official barrier between himself and his listener. Then he said, “I've assigned you to the brig
Swallow,
to assist with the survey that I mentioned earlier.”

So this was why he'd been so unexpectedly posted back on board the
Swallow,
Wiki mused. As careful as Forsythe not to betray his pleasure, he said, “May I ask which scientifics will be going?”

“The scientific party will be made up of the naturalists Dr. Winston Olliver, Joseph Couthouy, and Charles Pickering, assistant taxidermist John Dyes, and draftsmen Joseph Drayton and Alfred Agate. They will be land-based, exploring the jungle and the general terrain, while the brig will follow them up the coast. Lieutenant Forsythe will be in charge of the land party, while Captain Rochester will be in command of the ship.”

Wiki paused, thinking that this was one of the most sensible plans Captain Wilkes had ever devised. Not only was he getting six of the irritating scientifics out of his way while he carried on with his pet pendulum experiments, but he was doing it in a useful and orderly fashion.

Then he said, “And my part in the operation?”

“You will live on the
Swallow,
and act as the liaison between the scientific party and the Brazilians. Every afternoon, after the brig has dropped anchor, you will go ashore, and meet up with the scientifics, who should be at the assigned meeting place by nightfall. There, you will take orders from Lieutenant Forsythe, who will requisition any necessary provisions and gear, and put anyone who might be sick or hurt on board the brig. You will also inspect whatever specimens the scientifics collected that day, and choose which are fit to be taken on board. I strongly urge you to be both strict and judicious! If the specimen is large, instruct the collector to replace it with a smaller one; if a sketch will do instead, then insist that he throws it away.”

Wiki winced at the thought of the many loud arguments that would be the certain outcome of this, and Captain Wilkes snapped, “If you meet any objections, simply repeat that you have strict instructions from me. Be firm! Take no heed of even the strongest protestations! As well as that,” he went on, “you must make sure that they do nothing—I stress,
nothing!
—to offend the patron of the survey.”

Wiki, completely baffled, said blankly,
“Patron?”

“Sir Patrick Palgrave!”

“Who?”

“Though an Englishman, he feels a lively interest in our great enterprise; he came here this very day to express that enthusiasm in person, along with extremely courteous and attentive friends and family.” Wilkes's smile had widened wonderfully. “He has not only volunteered to provide horses, mules, servants, and ostlers, but when he left me he was setting off to contact other friends who have plantations along the proposed route, to ask them to host the land party each night. His own estate is at the remotest part of the survey, on the Macae River, and he informed me that the party could stay there in comfort to write up their reports, before everyone boards the
Swallow
for the return trip to Rio—a most significant contribution to our mission!”

“It certainly is,” said Wiki, feeling puzzled about Palgrave's motives.

“And he was most specific that
you
should go along.”

Wiki blinked. A stray draft must have come into the stone-walled room, because gooseflesh rose on his arms. He said involuntarily, “Why me?”

Captain Wilkes frowned. “Isn't Sir Patrick your father's close friend? I certainly got that impression when Captain Coffin brought him here today.”

So his father had been the unseen man in the
fallua,
Wiki realized. Not seeming to notice either his silence, or his sudden lack of enthusiasm, Captain Wilkes chatted on. “It should be a capital excursion, and I do wish I could have come along, too. However, not only do I want to closely supervise the gravitational observations, but I have too many pressing engagements on shore. Did you know that the quality here speak French?”

Wiki shook his head.

“A great convenience for me,” Captain Wilkes confided, and then went on in that language. “You're not the only linguist with the fleet, you know! Had you heard that my French is considered excellent?”

“Assurément,”
lied Wiki, who hadn't known at all. He thought he should have guessed that Captain Wilkes could speak French, though, because he had toured Europe extensively in his search for scientific instruments. In fact, Wiki mused, Captain Wilkes's French was probably a lot better than his own.