“He did die.”
“But he didn’t die until he had completed the second trip. He didn’t die until he was at the dock ready to return home. I believe he made it into Pesha.”
“Powell says he didn’t. He says Baker was too sick to enter the city. Powell says Baker stayed in camp while he, Powell, went alone into the city.”
“Ha!” Claire said. “You don’t know Captain Baker as I do.”
“Do you, now?”
“Don’t laugh at me. Captain Baker was a very vain man.”
Trevelyan looked surprised. “What has vanity to do with this?”
She sighed. “It has everything to do with this. Baker had the knowledge. After his first trip he’d learned a great deal. He’d found out that on his first trip he’d been hundreds of miles away from Pesha, so he returned to England to raise funds and write up his notes.”
“What does this have to do with his vanity?”
“Think about it! After he had done all that work, do you think he would have turned over all he knew to another man?”
“If he were sick and he couldn’t go he might have. Do you think the man had no generosity in his soul? Would he rather that no one go if he couldn’t? Was he such a selfish man?”
“Not selfish. He was—”
“Vain. I heard you.”
“What is wrong with you? I was merely telling you that I don’t believe Captain Baker didn’t see Pesha. I think this man Powell is a liar.” She looked up at him with horror on her face. “You don’t think Powell murdered Captain Baker and took his notes, do you?”
Trevelyan grimaced and turned back around. “Someday I shall have to visit America to see what atmosphere produces such lurid imagination in its inhabitants.”
“It’s not such a farfetched idea.”
“What would Powell have to gain by stealing Baker’s notes and lying to the world?”
She was astonished. “Prestige. Honor. Medals from your queen. A place in history. Possible immortality. Not to mention money.”
“Isn’t that a little exaggerated? Immortality?”
“It is not an exaggeration. The first man who enters Pesha and returns from it alive will be remembered forever.” She clenched her hands into fists at her side. “How I wish I could have read Captain Baker’s notes. He would tell all the story. This man Powell would never be able to tell all of it.”
“Why not? If he’s seen the place he should be able to tell what he’s seen.”
“But he hasn’t seen Pesha. He couldn’t have. No man alive could have entered that sacred city unless he looked, acted, and spoke like a Peshan. Only Captain Baker could have done that. Who is this man Powell but a mere man?”
“And Baker wasn’t?”
“No. Captain Baker was a great man, and it would have taken a great man to get into Pesha. From what little I’ve read of Powell he speaks a mere five or six languages.”
“The man is only semiliterate.”
“Do you sneer at everything?”
“Yes,” he answered honestly. “No doubt your Captain Baker sneered at nothing.”
She thought about that a while. “I think Captain Baker was basically a cold man. That’s what made him a great observer. He could watch unspeakable cruelty and report it. Most of the rest of us would be too sick or weeping too hard or trying too hard to change the behavior of savages to be able to sit back and observe without feeling. But Baker watched it all and never felt anything.”
“I think perhaps he felt,” Trevelyan said softly.
“No, Captain Baker was a great man and he deserves to live in history but I doubt very much if he had any heart at all.” She put her head up. “Look! There’s smoke. Is that MacTarvit’s house?”