The Devil's Making (33 page)

‘With McCrory?'

‘Yes. In January. He came out to Esquimalt and wanted to meet some of the naval surgeons. ‘In the interest of professional friendship', as he put it in his unreticent Yankee way. We had a few tots of grog together and a chat. He tried to make himself agreeable. But it soon turned out that what really interested him was that we might send him patients. He explained, in a very learned way, which seemed utter balderdash to me, that many physical illnesses were mental in origin. He gave me an exposition about the “calenture” which, as you must know, is a disease which sometimes attacks sailors when they have been too long at sea, causing them to see strange visions, develop a fever which is not associated with any discernible organic condition, and to commit odd or self destructive acts, such as jumping overboard. McCrory tried to convince me that the calenture was akin to hysteria in women! I ask you! He was trying to impress me, I thought. He explained that he was a qualified “alienist” – you know, it's a French term for a doctor whose patients are “aliénés”, that is alienated by mental disorders. And he proposed that I send him any officers who seemed afflicted by nervous or mental disease. Very forward of him. I told him politely that there was no question of any officer in Her Majesty's navy being treated by any doctor other than a naval surgeon. Surprisingly insensitive man. He actually pressed me to make an exception. Went on about the Hippocratic oath. What a nerve! At last I got rid of him, but not before he had subjected me to a veritable quizzing, which I answered in words of one syllable, about where the
Ariadne
had been surveying, what was her compliment of men and guns, and so on. So much so that when I saw him off down the ladder I said to myself: “That damned Yankee is a spy.”' Giles, who had never uttered a squeak at the Captain's table, but was now revealed as excitable and long-winded, seemed quite delighted at this supposition. ‘So when I learned he was dead in mysterious circumstances, I thought I should tell the police of our conversation.'

‘Very good of you,' I said as I finished scribbling a summary of Giles's account in my notebook. ‘From what I know of McCrory, he was a conspiratorial type, and always had his nose in other people's secrets. But, may I ask, what would be the point of spying on the navy? What is there to discover? A corvette of the
Ariadne
type carries 200 officers and men and is armed with 20 heavy guns. Everyone knows that. I've never been on the
Zealous,
but I know she carries 500 men. Our naval presence here is meant to be in the open, isn't it?'

‘Yes, so that the Yankees don't get any wrong ideas. I agree with you, it's hard to imagine what secrets a spy could find out. Our men are not even told to keep their mouths shut when they go ashore, in spite of the fact that every other person in Victoria is a Yankee. It's a puzzle. Nevertheless, I'm almost sure this man McCrory was a spy – or interested in spying, which is the same thing.'

‘You could be right,' I said. ‘I've made a note of it and I'll give it the utmost consideration.' To placate the surgeon and to make his trip into town worthwhile, I invited him out to Ringo's for lunch. This kept my mind off Lukswaas.

*   *   *

Back in the courthouse, I added a paragraph to my report, about Giles's visit. I had only mentioned in passing the telegraph from Virginia with its claim that McCrory had been ‘cashiered' from the Confederate army on suspicion of spying: this could simply have meant that although McCrory's loyalties were to the South, his New York Yankee origins had been discovered. But now it took on a new dimension. Whether or not McCrory was a spy, either officially or independently, there were now two indications that he had behaved like one. I concluded: ‘Although it is impossible to imagine what useful function an American spy might have in this Colony where it is the policy of the authorities to be entirely open about military and naval activities, nevertheless McCrory's curiosity about the navy and his having been accused of spying for the winning side in the American Civil War, must raise the question whether his friendship with the Marine Lieutenant, George Beaumont, was in part motivated by spying.'

This was, indeed, the nub. I was ready to seize on any fact, no matter how bizarre, that might explain McCrory's relationship with Beaumont. I sent the report to Pemberton's house, to await his return, then went to deliver an oral summary to Superintendent Parry.

Though more roughly than Pemberton might, Parry expressed a view which Pemberton would probably share: that my investigation had uncovered ‘a lot of dirt' about McCrory's patients and associates, but that I was probably too young to realize that almost any respectable life revealed an equal amount of dirt under investigative scrutiny. ‘There are Quattrinis in every town,' Parry said, ‘and more of them in Victoria than him. I dunno how many girls in the family way have thrown themselves into the Inner Harbour in the past ten years, but it runs into dozens. Leave well alone, lad. Though I know the doctor stands exposed as a beast. No doubt he was up to all kinds of beastliness with the Indians too.'

Anyway, Parry explained, the circumstantial evidence with regard to the murder, and leaving all the other ‘dirt' aside, was overpoweringly against ‘the Indians.' Parry admitted easily enough that it was unclear whether Wiladzap, Lukswaas, or even the defaulting Smgyiik, had murdered McCrory. But as Parry put it succinctly: ‘It's an Indian crime, and for it an Indian will hang.'

‘It's almost not relevant,' Parry went on, ‘whose hand drove in the knife. Or whether it was one or many hands. Or whether the Indians are covering up for one of them, which no doubt they are. Your man in the cells, Wiladzap, may even be what they call a Noble Savage – as I believe you want to think, my lad – and taking the rap for a deed done by his wife. Then so be it. Do you really want to charge the woman with murder instead? No matter if she claimed McCrory attempted to violate her – as no doubt she would, not that I'd believe it, beast though he was – and cried her pretty eyes out in court, she'd hang sure as him.'

Parry concluded by reminding me that I had other duties. Starting with my usual Sunday night guarding the jail with Seeds, I would be expected from the following week to put in half a day with the others. This would be more agreeable now I had my Sergeant's stripes, which Pemberton would no doubt make permanent. And apart from the usual drudgery of license fees and drunks, there was even some detective work to be done: many of the recent burglaries showed what the Superintendent was pleased to call, probably having heard the words from Pemberton, ‘the same modus operandi' – entry through the roof hatch which most buildings had for ventilation.

Of course I should keep eyes and ears open. But the case against Wiladzap was clear and the way was free for a trial within a few weeks. ‘We don't want to keep that Indian camp in existence much longer, and once a couple of 'em, and the woman Lukswaas, have testified and it's all over, we can let 'em depart for home.'

*   *   *

I tried to encourage myself by remembering I still had Pemberton's ‘Carte blanche'. But I knew that Pemberton would be under worse pressures than I. Then, to make me even more gloomy, I met Mulligan, the Irish-American lawyer who had volunteered to undertake Wiladzap's defense. Mulligan had a reputation as a vicious shark in civil cases, who would not stop at destroying a man's name, or breaking his purse by prolonging a case through procedural manipulations. Indeed Mulligan's own reputation was so bad that he had recently lost business. Since the gold rush had ended, and with it the rush of frantic litigation over property and land deals, Mulligan would have had less work anyway. There was no money in his defending Wiladzap, but he might see it as a way to gain lost ground by posing as a selfless champion of a wretched savage who was sure to lose.

Mulligan's face was concave, with forehead and chin both ahead of a small nose and thin lipped mouth out of which cigar smoke billowed as he announced that Wiladzap would not talk to him, but that did not matter. ‘He's not goin' to be saved by any new facts. They're all against him – as you know, havin' collected the evidence. Nope. But he deserves a defense all the same, and by Christ I'll give it to him. Ultimately…' Here Mulligan stuck his thumbs into his trouser tops, as if his hands were on a pair of ‘six gun' butts, and stuck his stomach forward. He was one of those Americans who could – and worse, would – talk with a cigar between the teeth. ‘Ultimately, the chief is a victim as much as McCrory was. Why? Because the authorities shoulda protected him against contact with the intolerable riches of the White man. To kill for a few dollars? Or because the White man accepted the services of the chief's squaw? He shoulda been kept in a reservation, back where he came from. What are these people doin' wanderin' around like this? Settin' up camp near a responsible town? Worryin' the lives outa respectable citizens? Where is our protection against these Injuns? And' – he took the cigar out of his mouth and waved it for emphasis, squinting narrowly through the smoke – ‘how come the government of this Colony, a
British
government, cannot better protect the lives of its citizens, its
American
citizens?'

‘We do our best,' I said, wearing as I did a version of the Queen's uniform.

‘In the States we know how to treat Injuns. They give any trouble, they
get
trouble – big trouble. In a while the lot of 'em'll be on reservations. They don't belong next to civilized people, looking' sneakily at our women, measurin' up our children…'

‘Wait a minute,' I said in the frosty English manner which this provoked. ‘If you don't like Indians, why defend this man?

‘Like 'em? Nobody could
like
'em – unless your taste runs to squaws…'

‘Mr Mulligan, if you talk like this in court, I'm afraid…'

‘I'm talkin' to you, sonny boy,' Mulligan interrupted. ‘Of course in a
British
court, I shall know how to modulate my language. I shall nevertheless…' It was true, he did know how to talk English. ‘… emphasize to the court that the government of this Colony would be remiss not to keep in constant consideration the rights of its American residents, especially in view of the inexorable logic of Annexation to the larger society, the United States of America, where the problems of an indigenous population are addressed – so far history informs us – in a more resolute manner.'

‘Good point,' I said. ‘For the prosecution. But what's your defense going to be?'

‘Non legitimis in locus.'

‘In loco,' I corrected, feeling as ‘fussy and pedantic' as a schoolmaster, but unable not to be. ‘Not legitimate in place?'

‘Non legitimis in loco. It's a new defense: that since the Indian Wiladzap was only allowed by lapses in Government resolution and policy to freely move from his natural trading area on the North Coast down to here, he cannot be held fully responsible for his actions faced with civilisation – in the form of an educated American, a Southern gentleman into the bargain. Yes, Sergeant, we have mended our fences since the War between the States – rancour is a sentiment foreign to the free-flowing blood of the American heart. After all, if a dangerous dog runs wild and bites a child, do we shoot the dog or fine the owner? We do both, do we not? The British authorities in this Colony…'

‘You mean, we hang Wiladzap and excoriate the government,' I said wearily.

‘He'll be hanged, but the point will be made.'

‘Mr Mulligan, I must tell you, having a degree in Jurisprudence myself that such a defense is simply untenable…'

‘Have you been called to the Bar?' Mulligan interrupted with a flourish of his cigar.

‘No.'

‘Then, forgive me Sergeant, you are not a lawyer.' Mulligan turned and stalked out of the room.

‘Oh Jesus Christ,' I said quietly. I resolved to have a word about Mulligan with Pemberton. No defense at all for Wiladzap would be better than that …

*   *   *

I went down to the cells. The prisoners were out at exercise. Wiladzap must have refused to go. Seeds was standing in the doorway to the exercise yard, taking the sun, glancing in at Wiladzap.

‘Klahowya,' I said in greeting.

Wiladzap, squatting with his back against the wall, looked up at me, eyes calm.

I asked him why he had not talked to Mulligan.

Wiladzap merely said, ‘Mulligan pelton. Cultus pelton.' Meaning that Mulligan was a worthless fool.

Since I had intended to warn Wiladzap against Mulligan, I felt relieved.

Then Wiladzap asked if I had found who killed McCrory. If so, Wiladzap explained, then Wiladzap could go free.

I said I did not know. My despair probably showed in my eyes.

Wiladzap, who was studying me closely, said, ‘Spose mesika halo klap man mamook opitsah opitsah doctah, alki nika wind.' Literally: ‘If you not find man make knife knife doctor, by and by I dead.'

‘Alki nika klap,' I assured Wiladzap. (‘By and by I find') But now Wiladzap's eyes too were showing despair.

*   *   *

There was one minor piece of investigation which I had thought of before but had not had the nerve to pursue. I visited the pharmacist who had analyzed the herbs in the alienist's basket, who was also Victoria's main supplier of surgical goods – Mr Newton. I asked for a brief private talk. Newton asked his assistant to look after the store, and led me behind misted glass windows into a small room full of boxes and lined shelves of drugs, trusses and surgical corsets. Newton was a lean skeletal man, not at all welcoming. I started by asking him if he sold lambskin sheaths.

‘Of course,' Newton said resignedly. ‘But you didn't need to request a private interview. You might have asked for the “special supplies depot”.'