Read Online Deadly Shoals by Joan Druett - Free Book Online Page A

ceremonials, and which pakeha —foreigners—misinterpreted as theft. Once again, too, he refrained from pointing out that he was Maori, which was a different kind of Polynesian, and not a kanaka, which was the whaleman’s catch-all term for a Pacific Islander.
    When the gauchos, having received their cash, bowed in acknowledgment of the role he had played in this sudden rush of riches, he nodded. One of them stowed the empty maté gourd behind his saddle, and they touched their spurs to their steeds. To Wiki’s surprise, they headed upriver, and he wondered where they were going. Why inland? And why with such an air of decision?
    They were heading for the horizon in their usual flamboyant fashion, and it was far too late to ask, so he dismissed it from his mind, saying to Stackpole, “We’d better get going, too. We have to report the discovery of Adams’s body—and we should try to find Hallett.”
    â€œThe man who took my money,” Stackpole grimly agreed.
    â€œAye,” said Wiki, thinking they knew far too little about the mysterious Hallett, and that it was time they learned a lot more. He went on, “I wondered if he belonged to the Athenian . Back in October 1836 he bought a lot of provisions from Adams, and was in and out after that, making a few more purchases, and it could have been on behalf of the sealing brig. The clerk should be able to tell us something to confirm that. There’s also the possibility that he’s a ship’s agent, like Adams—which means he might be a local.”
    â€œOr he could be at sea on my schooner.”
    â€œTrue,” said Wiki. “But we have to try—it’s no use giving up just yet.” Decisively, he mounted his mare, listening to the grunts and groans as the whaling master stiffly followed suit, and set her into a trot along the well-worn path to El Carmen.
    A couple of hours later, he heard Stackpole say in puzzled tones, “What’s up?”
    Wiki, who had been deep in speculation, raised his head to see a great cloud of dust billowing over the trail. He reined in, and a herd of cattle came out of the haze, driven by women and children on horses. Behind them, more cattle dragged carts laden high with household goods. It looked as if the whole of the pueblo and surrounding countryside was in panic-stricken retreat—except for the men, it seemed.
    As the crowd approached, warning cries rose up: “The French are coming!”
    Wiki restrained his mare, who was dancing in nervous circles, having caught the atmosphere of alarm. He shouted, “The French? What do you mean?”
    â€œThey are coming to attack the pueblo and seize the countryside!”
    The war between Buenos Aires and the French has spread to engulf the Río Negro, Wiki thought with alarm. It was what he had first feared when the lookout on the Swallow had spied the strange whaleship. The vessel had turned out to be Stackpole’s Trojan, but the danger had been real.
    He cried, “Where are the French?”
    â€œTheir squadron is already off the mouth of the Río Negro!” a woman shrieked, and flailed a lash over the cattle she drove, setting up a commotion of hoofbeats and lowing.
    Dear God, thought Wiki, the Swallow ! The woman passed by with her cows, and another great cloud of dust was flooding toward them. This time, it was a flock of sheep, so long-legged and shaggy they looked like goats. Wiki and Stackpole drew their horses over to the edge of the river, and when the herders—who were all women, again—came abreast, Wiki shouted, “Where are all the men?”
    The cry came back faintly: “Getting ready to fire the countryside!”
    As Wiki was relaying this to Stackpole, they were overtaken from behind by Manuel Bernantio and his gaucho band, traveling at full gallop. They had heard the news of the invasion, and now, filled with bloodlust and the prospect of loot, were off to