heaven and earth to make sure of it.”
That’s what Guy feared most. Tens of thousands of dollars hung in the balance. “What did he do with the spirits?”
“Why, he instructed the deckmen to pour them overboard — a most mournful occasion, I might add.”
“He destroyed the evidence?”
“Oh, not entirely. He saved back a little. He has all he needs for evidence. And of course he had his indictment penned and ready for me to deliver on the return run. Which I did. To the superintendent at the Indian Bureau.”
“Do you know how those casks got there? Maxim says he had no idea.”
“Not the foggiest idea. The casks are on the ship’s manifest but in a different hand.”
“Let me see, if you please.”
Sire handed him the shipping lists. There indeed were the inscriptions, on page three — and not in Maxim’s awkward hand. “My son says the company, ah, cargo, was loaded as planned some miles upstream from Bellevue at the wooding lot near Sergeant Bluff. Is it so?”
“Indeed. Your gentlemen were waiting there with six casks — which were swiftly loaded.” Sire looked as if he was keeping himself solemn with some effort.
“My son says here that he spotted the casks almost immediately upon leaving Westport. He noted they weren’t on his own copy of the manifest. He thought it was simply a shipping discrepancy — poor bookkeeping. A fatal supposition it seems. Have you any thoughts about it?”
“None, Monsieur Straus.”
“Could one of your crew have been paid to smuggle the casks aboard — and doctor your own cargo list?”
Sire laughed shortly. “Who of them can write? Only the mate, Bazile Bissonet. He reads and writes. But that is not his hand. I know his hand. He often keeps the log.”
“Have you a passenger list — especially from here to Westport?”
Sire shrugged. “Non. The cabin passengers, oui. The deck passengers — none.”
“With your permission, Captain, I’d like to have my clerks copy the cabin passenger list while we talk.”
“Of course.”
Guy rang a small silver bell and a clerk materialized instantly, heard his instructions, accepted the passenger list, and vanished. “They are very fast,” Guy muttered. “Tell me the rest. You delivered our cargo?”
“Oui. Here is a release signed by Monsieur Fitzhugh. We discharged the cargo on the bank below Wolf Rapids as he required and made haste back. Even riding light we fought sandbars all the way to the Platte. An ordeal. One shouldn’t ascend the Missouri in a low-water year. Mon Dieu!”
“The cargo was not damaged?”
“Ah, not by my company. We unloaded everything intact. But it was vulnerable there. The engages from your post hadn’t arrived and everything was exposed to the elements. I wish we could have stayed . . . ” He shrugged.
Another worry. A fortune on a streambank, poorly guarded and vulnerable to weather and any passing village. Guy knew he’d have to endure that clawing worry for months. It’d be a long time before news filtered down two thousand miles of rivers. It was as bad as owning a clipper ship out upon the terrible seas. “Is there anything else I should know?” he asked dryly.
Sire looked apologetic. “There is a small matter. A cabin door was damaged. The lock broken, wood splintered. I have a small claim here — ”
“One of our men? But only Maxim and Fitzhugh had cabins — ”
“Maxim’s, monsieur. It was his cabin door.”
“Ridiculous! He’s a gentle boy — I won’t pay this!”
“I was afraid of that. Monsieur Straus, a cabin boy saw Monsieur Fitzhugh smash it open and drag your son — drag him out. At Wolf Rapids.”
Fitzhugh! A vicious anger stabbed through Guy, setting off his ulcer again. “I’ll delve into this. And after I have answers, you may be paid or not . . . Did the cabin boy say what this was about?”
Sire shrugged. “Nothing. He merely saw it. Now as for the claim, it’s not a lot. But my word is my bond —
That’s what Guy feared most. Tens of thousands of dollars hung in the balance. “What did he do with the spirits?”
“Why, he instructed the deckmen to pour them overboard — a most mournful occasion, I might add.”
“He destroyed the evidence?”
“Oh, not entirely. He saved back a little. He has all he needs for evidence. And of course he had his indictment penned and ready for me to deliver on the return run. Which I did. To the superintendent at the Indian Bureau.”
“Do you know how those casks got there? Maxim says he had no idea.”
“Not the foggiest idea. The casks are on the ship’s manifest but in a different hand.”
“Let me see, if you please.”
Sire handed him the shipping lists. There indeed were the inscriptions, on page three — and not in Maxim’s awkward hand. “My son says the company, ah, cargo, was loaded as planned some miles upstream from Bellevue at the wooding lot near Sergeant Bluff. Is it so?”
“Indeed. Your gentlemen were waiting there with six casks — which were swiftly loaded.” Sire looked as if he was keeping himself solemn with some effort.
“My son says here that he spotted the casks almost immediately upon leaving Westport. He noted they weren’t on his own copy of the manifest. He thought it was simply a shipping discrepancy — poor bookkeeping. A fatal supposition it seems. Have you any thoughts about it?”
“None, Monsieur Straus.”
“Could one of your crew have been paid to smuggle the casks aboard — and doctor your own cargo list?”
Sire laughed shortly. “Who of them can write? Only the mate, Bazile Bissonet. He reads and writes. But that is not his hand. I know his hand. He often keeps the log.”
“Have you a passenger list — especially from here to Westport?”
Sire shrugged. “Non. The cabin passengers, oui. The deck passengers — none.”
“With your permission, Captain, I’d like to have my clerks copy the cabin passenger list while we talk.”
“Of course.”
Guy rang a small silver bell and a clerk materialized instantly, heard his instructions, accepted the passenger list, and vanished. “They are very fast,” Guy muttered. “Tell me the rest. You delivered our cargo?”
“Oui. Here is a release signed by Monsieur Fitzhugh. We discharged the cargo on the bank below Wolf Rapids as he required and made haste back. Even riding light we fought sandbars all the way to the Platte. An ordeal. One shouldn’t ascend the Missouri in a low-water year. Mon Dieu!”
“The cargo was not damaged?”
“Ah, not by my company. We unloaded everything intact. But it was vulnerable there. The engages from your post hadn’t arrived and everything was exposed to the elements. I wish we could have stayed . . . ” He shrugged.
Another worry. A fortune on a streambank, poorly guarded and vulnerable to weather and any passing village. Guy knew he’d have to endure that clawing worry for months. It’d be a long time before news filtered down two thousand miles of rivers. It was as bad as owning a clipper ship out upon the terrible seas. “Is there anything else I should know?” he asked dryly.
Sire looked apologetic. “There is a small matter. A cabin door was damaged. The lock broken, wood splintered. I have a small claim here — ”
“One of our men? But only Maxim and Fitzhugh had cabins — ”
“Maxim’s, monsieur. It was his cabin door.”
“Ridiculous! He’s a gentle boy — I won’t pay this!”
“I was afraid of that. Monsieur Straus, a cabin boy saw Monsieur Fitzhugh smash it open and drag your son — drag him out. At Wolf Rapids.”
Fitzhugh! A vicious anger stabbed through Guy, setting off his ulcer again. “I’ll delve into this. And after I have answers, you may be paid or not . . . Did the cabin boy say what this was about?”
Sire shrugged. “Nothing. He merely saw it. Now as for the claim, it’s not a lot. But my word is my bond —
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