Recorded Books Inc. - Run Afoul

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For Helen and Jill, with appreciation for the poisoning

South Atlantic Ocean, November 1838

As he slumped exhaustedly in the cutter that pulled from the brig Swallow to the expedition flagship Vincennes, Wiki Coffin wondered if he smelled as bad as Lieutenant Forsythe. Over the past five days, while the cutter and its battered, miserable crew had been struggling to rejoin the expedition fleet, the steward of the Swallow had painstakingly mended and cleaned Forsythes uniform, and so the lieutenants appearance was smart enough, considering his bulky frame. Forsythes lumpy, battered face was reddened and scraped where he had shaved off a weeks worth of hard stubble, too. To spoil the effect, though, he stank like a skunk.

Wiki was wearing his best broadcloth, which was even cleaner than Forsythes uniform, because he wore it so seldom. Despite the urgency of Captain Wilkess summons, he had taken the time to wash in a bucket of fresh water, and had lashed up his long black hair. Still, though, he couldnt help wondering if the effluvium of the past five days clung to his skina qualm that became full-blown as the boat clicked against the starboard side of the Vincennes.

The oarsman in the bow stopped the cutter by holding on to a dangling rope. Then all six men of the crew silently contemplated Wiki and Lieutenant Forsythe, while Wiki watched them back with great respect. These seamen had also endured five horrible days of bucketing about in the thirty-foot cutter while they struggled to rejoin the expedition fleet. They had regained the brig Swallow just four hours before, but now they were as shipshape and smart as if they had never been away. Even the cutter was clean.

Their expressions were noncommittal, but, to Wikis surprise, as Lieutenant Forsythe clambered to his feet, the men stood, too, and saluted their commander. It was a remarkable compliment, and an eloquent sign of their respect for his seamanship. Forsythe was universally disliked for his unpredictability, brutality, and foul tongue, but it was a tacit recognition that few other officers could have brought the thirty-foot craft to a mid-Atlantic rendezvous with the fleet. Characteristically, Forsythe didnt even bother to return the salute, instead casting his crew a suspicious and aggressive look before turning to grab one of the rungs of the side-ladder.

Wiki reluctantly followed. When they clambered over the gangway at the top of the tall side of the ship, the squad of marines on duty stamped loudly to attention, while the two side-boys, one at each side of the ladder, saluted, and the boatswain piped on his call. A comradely wink from one of the marines was an unwelcome reminder that every jack tar in the U.S. Exploring Expedition knew that both he and Forsythe were in deep disgrace. Wiki lifted a brow in wry acknowledgment, but Forsythe stayed blank-faced as he headed past the mainmast to the great deckhouse where Captain Wilkes and the shipboard scientifics lived and worked. The two men at the ships wheel, which was stationed just in front of the house, glanced sideways with sympathetic looks, too, and the corporal of marines who was standing sentry in the alcove stamped and saluted with unusual fervor.

Obviously, there was no need to state their business, but Forsythe barked that they were here in reply to the captains summons. The corporal saluted again, turned smartly, and led the way into the lofty, white-painted corridor beyond the open door. To the left-hand side of the long passage, a credenza topped with wooden spindles half hid a saloon furnished with a table large enough to seat twenty, with revolving chairs screwed to the floor all around. This dining room was empty, and the varnished doors at both ends were closed, as were those to the four staterooms on the far side of the corridor. The soldier kept on going, heading for a set of double doors at the end of the passage, while Forsythe and Wiki followed.

Their steps echoed hollowly, then stopped. With a double stamp as he brought his feet together, the marine knocked deafeningly. At the preoccupied sound of a distant grunt, he opened the doors with a flourish, and stood aside to let Wiki and Forsythe pass through. Then the doors slammed shut again, and Wiki heard the retreating thunder of boots as the corporal marched back to his post.

The room smelled of preserving alcohol and ink. Long rays of bright late afternoon sun streamed in a great skylight, and the glazed windows in the stern let in water reflections, which moved hypnotically over racks of glass jars where enigmatic creatures floated, and the shelves where many books and charts were securely stacked. Rows of chronometers in padded boxes solemnly ticked, not quite in unison. This was the place where the shipboard scientifics worked alongside the ships officers who had been assigned to surveying duties. Right now, however, only the commander in chief of the expedition was in residence.

Captain Wilkes, though standing, was bent over a chart that had been spread out on one of the tables, filling in figures along the line that marked the last track of survey. For some moments, he ignored their arrival. Wiki stood beside Lieutenant Forsythe, his feet braced apart to counter the slow roll of the ship, and warily contemplated the tall, lean, ascetic figure. The last time he had been summoned here, hed been given the brief of hunting pirates on Shark Island. It was hard to believe that it had been only four weeks ago. Just as before, every small movement betrayed Wilkess inner tension. There were patches of red high on the cheekbones of his narrow face, and he occasionally lifted a hand to rub his forehead, as if it hurt.

Wiki already knew that the commandant of the exploring fleet was under great pressurethat he had been under stress for years, for Charles Wilkes had been intimately involved with the expedition since the very beginning. As a decade had dragged by in an endless chaos of political and scientific lobbying and public controversy, he, unlike many others, had remained loyal to the project. After he had been appointed to the position of fleet commodore, following the resignation of his fiery rival, Captain Thomas ap Catesby Jones, powers in the navy had received the news with open outrage, but the humiliating acrimony had been the least of Wilkess problems. Ships had proved unsuitable, and hed been forced to replace them at incredibly short notice, and then have the replacements provisioned in a navy yard where the outfitters and victuallers had been unwaveringly hostile. The papers had dubbed the enterprise the Deplorable Expedition, and it had become the butt of cartoonists and music hall comedians, but Charles Wilkes had stubbornly clung to his vision of an American scientific triumph. Despite his notoriously volatile temper, Wiki still found him admirable.

At last he looked up, right into Wikis face. So I finally see you!

Aye, sir, Wiki warily admitted.

Well, what do you have to say for yourself? I distinctly recollect giving you instructions to report back without a moments delayand yet I had to send Lieutenant Smith with the Flying Fish to remind you of your obligations. Almost four whole weeks have elapsed since I saw you last!