sacque.
He said, âI meant his Maori name.â
âIn the crew list, he is also put down as Tuatti.â
Te Aute, Wiki thought. Even more warily, he asked, âDo you know the name of his home village in New Zealand?â
âHe said a name that sounded like Maketu, and told me that it is on the east coast of your northern island.â
Wiki said nothing, but his face had given him away, because Mr. Hale said with disappointment, âYou arenât pleased?â
That was a gross understatement, but Wiki merely said, âHis tribe is different to mine. He is Ngati Porou; I am Ngapuhi.â
âSo he will not be overjoyed to meet you?â
Heâs much more likely to kill me, Wiki thought.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
They cantered around the next bend to find that the party had stopped in an untidy huddle, because a man was standing in the middle of the path. This time, it was not the courtly customs man, but instead a portly fellow wearing the complete costume of a gaucho. His shirt was red-striped, and there was a red sash about his rotund waist, which held up his calzoncillos âlong white drawers. Scarlet chiripá Turkish trousers were draped about the underpants, drawn up between his legs and lashed fore and aft to the sash, which was reinforced by a traditional broad leather belt. One of the huge facóns that the gauchos made by snapping a sword short and then sharpening it to a wicked point was thrust slantwise into the back of his belt. A folded poncho hung over one shoulder.
The apparition called out heartily, â¡Che!â
Captain Ringgold turned in his saddle, and beckoned. Wiki cantered to the front of the crowd, summed up the fellow in one comprehensive glance, and said in English, âHow do you do?â
âDr. Ducatel, at your service,â replied the other in a broad Yankee accent, not a whit abashed.
âYouâre another American?â exclaimed Captain Ringgold.
âI am indeedâand proud of it, too.â
âMy God, how many of the rascals are there?â muttered Ringgold.
âHeâs a surgeon,â Wiki informed him, seeing Ducatelâs brows shoot up at the news that he was known to this brown stranger.
Ringgold, however, looked even less impressed. âA doctor ?â he expostulated. âHow long have you been living in this hole, for Godâs sake?â
The surgeon transferred his gaze to the sky, evidently counting, because he finally said, âFive years? Perhaps as few as four.â
âDoing what ?â
âA variety of things, sirâa medley of accomplishments! To put it in a nutshell,â Ducatel elaborated freely, âI graduated from the New York College of Physicians and Surgeons in 1832, but while the degree was substantial, my funds were slight. Accordingly, I signed articles as a shipâs surgeon, but then made the unfortunate choice of leaving the ship at Montevideo. Iâd heard that médicos were in short supply up the RÃo Negro, the most southern outpost of civilization in the Americas, and so I journeyed here. And, believe it or not, sir, I actually did quite well for a while! However, the tyrant of Buenos Aires has put an end to that, so you see me making my money any way I can. Is your business urgent?â he inquired. âIâve good beef to sell, if you need it in a hurry.â
So this was why heâd lain in wait, Wiki deducedâwhen the ex-surgeon had heard rumors that the so-called French squadron was really an American fleet, heâd scented profitable trade. When Ringgold said nothing, evidently having lost track sometime during the monologue, Wiki said quickly to Ducatel, âTell me, when did you last see Caleb Adams?â
âWhy do you ask?â the surgeon said, puzzled. âIâve been away for the past ten days, upcountry, and didnât see much of him even before that.â
âWiki,â said Ringgold
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