Authors: L. A. Meyer
"Secure the cannon. Lift anchor. Bring us back to the shore. Well done, all."
The
Belle
swings back into the shore and again runs gently aground. I hop out into the shallows and call out for Higgins, the Hawkes boys, and Cantrell to come with me, leaving the ship in the capable care of Jim, Clementine, Chloe, and the Preacher. I lead my party into the woods.
We find a well-worn trail that we know will lead up to Cave-in-Rock, and we work our way along it, pistols at the ready should we meet any disgruntled former inhabitants of the place. We meet none.
Eventually we reach the top to find Lightfoot and Chee-a-quat leaning on their rifles. From Lightfoot's belt hangs a bloody swatch of what looks like human hair.
"Where's Katy?" I ask, and he nods his head in the direction of the cave mouth. "And what's thatâon your belt?"
Lightfoot considers this, then says, "'Member when I said I was goin' downriver 'cause there was a man down there who needed killin'?"
"Yes...?"
"He don't need killin' no more."
Ah.
Higgins and I go off to find Katy, while the Hawkes brothers strip the bodies on the ground of any valuables they might have. I notice that two of the dead men have arrows sticking out of them. Another looks like he was done in with Chee-a-quat's tomahawk. I look away from that.
I find her coming out of the mouth of the cave, dragging the smouldering bedding that had been set on fire by the hot cannonball. The cave entrance was clearing of smoke.
"What have we got, Kate?"
"Some food. Powder. Bullets. Guns. Piles of stuff. The place looks like pigs've been living in it," she says. "I think Lightfoot dropped the one that was trying to get away with the money box. But then again, I think the real prize is down there..." She points down toward the water, and there, nestled amongst the greenery of the shore, float two boats, one a flatboat, the other a keelboat like the
Belle.
It's plain that they are boats stolen from innocent, luckless, and now-dead travelers. There is a path that leads down to the boats.
"I think you're right, Katy," I say, already making plans in my head.
"There's a child in there, too," adds Katy, nodding toward the cave. "Boy child. Sick. Maybe dead."
I look at Higgins and we go into the cave. It's plain that there's another entrance to this place, for a breeze blows through and the smoke is all but gone. The place is indeed a sty, but what would you expect from an outlaw den?
There is a natural stone aisle that leads right into the caveâit is almost as if stonemasons had carved it, it is so straight and regular. On either side of this passageway are relatively flat rock ledges, shoulder high, that extend to the cave edges and have plainly served as sleeping areasâsome seem almost to look like family hearths, with bunks and beds laid in a circle. I decide not to think on that.
Following the aisle to its end, we come to a large, domed room, which has a small hole at the top, through which sunlight twinkles. There are remains of a large fire in the center of this room, and a trickle of smoke trails up to the vent hole at the top.
What a perfect fortress,
says the pirate in me.
There are piles of clothing and barrels of whiskey and tons of other booty the river pirates have taken and that now belong to us. Back along the right side of the cave is one of the living areas, and in one of the beds there, I see the recumbent form of a child, lying faceup.
I go over, with Higgins beside me, and look down. "What do you think?"
Higgins puts his hand on the boy's forehead. "He is about eight years old and still alive, at least, but very feverish." He opens the boy's shirt and looks at his chest. "No measles, no chicken pox, no smallpox ... I think it's influenza. He is barely conscious." The boy moans and twists in the bed. He is covered in sweat.
"All right," I say. "If he's still alive when we're ready to quit this place, we shall take him with us. Now let's get loading."
I leave Higgins to supervise the loading of the goods and go back out to the Hawkes brothers, who are now through with their grisly work.
"Matty. 'Thaniel. I'm going back to move the
Belle
over next to those boats you see down there. We'll load whatever we can take from here into them."
They both answer, "Yes, Skipper," as they get down to the business of stacking up the booty.
"And, lads, you could not have been more brave today when those bullets were whizzing around and yet you stood at your posts, manning your sweeps. We could not have done this without you, and I want you to know that."
"Ah,
pshaw,
" the boys reply together, blushing, but I know that they are pleased.
I make sure that Lightfoot and Chee-a-quat are continuing to guard against the return of the remnants of the outlaws, and then head back to the
Belle
at a dead run.
"We're gonna move her about fifty yards downriver to load cargo. Everybody on the poles to pull her off!"
The
Belle
comes off the shoal fairly easily and we slip back into the stream.
"Mind the rocks now, Jim ... There! You see those two boats tied up there? Head in!"
We slip in beside the other boats and tie up.
"I'm going back up," I say, leaping onto the deck of the flatboat and then onto the other keelboat. "Clementine, you, too." With a delighted yelp, she follows me off.
She falls a bit behind me 'cause it's always been my pride that no one beats Jacky Faber in climbing the rigging, and nobody beats her on a steep trail, either.
There is a rustle in the bushes next to me, and startled, I turn to face a very large, extremely wet man with rivulets of blood coursing down his face. Apparently he is one of the men from the robbers' attack boat, obviously his rifle is wet and useful now only as club, and plainly he wishes to kill me. He swings the rifle butt at my head as I manage to raise my shoulder in time to deflect the blow, but still it knocks me facedown in the dirt, stunned.
Looking up, I see with horror that there is a bayonet at the other end of the gun. He reverses the gun in his hand and lifts it over his head and prepares to use all his force to drive the point through my back and pin me to the ground.
I can't reach my pistols, I can't ... Oh, God, I'm gonna...
I hear two shots, one right after the other, and two blossoms of red appear on the man's chest. He drops the weapon and falls back, still as a stone.
I roll over to see Clementine standing over me, her two smoking pistols held out at shoulder level.
"Thank you, Sister," I say, my voice quavering as I get to my knees and then shakily stand. "He'd have skewered me for sure."
She nods, looking dumbly at the smoking pistols in her hands.
I know how that feels, Clementine, when you kill someone, no matter how vile they might be, but we'll deal with this later.
"Reload, Clementine. There might be more." Given this simple task to do, she does it, and we continue on to the cave, with me being much more watchful this time.
Stupid thing, you! Keep watch!
We gain the cave mouth and the Hawkes boys begin taking the plunder down to the boats. I go around to the side, where Lightfoot and Chee-a-quat and Katy are standing guard against a possible return of the thieves, and I call Katy to me. As she comes toward me, I notice Lightfoot watching her as she goes.
Hmmm.
"Katy," I say. "Stand guard on Matty and 'Thaniel as they take the goods down. I was almost killed by one of the survivors of the bandits' boat on my way up here. If not for Clementine, I'd be dead right now."
"
Um,
" she says, nods, and lopes off after the boys.
Clementine and I go into the cave to find Higgins separating what we can use or sell from that for which we'd have no possible use.
"So, Mr. Higgins, just what do we have here?"
"Well, Miss, we have this," he says, handing me a sort of flat wooden box. "A man attempted to escape with it, but he did not make it past your dragoons. Katy brought it down."
I lift the lid. Inside is an assortment of watches, gold and silver coins, brass buttons, gold buttons, brooches, hairpins, necklaces, pearls ...
How sad,
I think to myself when I pick up an exquisite cameo to examine.
This was probably some poor girl's most prized possession. It is all just so sad ... the evil that exists in men, I cannot understand it.
"Good," I say out loud, snapping the lid closed and handing it back to Higgins. "There will be a payday in Cairo when we get there, and I'm sure, since no one has gotten any pay yet, all will welcome that. What else did you find here?"
"Powderâwhiskey, mostly. Several dozen chickens. Clothing we will be able to use or else sell. And one item in particular that might interest you, Miss," says Higgins. "But first I must show you this."
With that he strides over to the pallet that holds the sick boy. The boy's eyes are still half shut and he is shivering. Higgins reaches down to lift the bottom edge of the blanket. Around the boy's thin, grimy ankle is a shackle to which is attached a short length of chain and attached to that is an iron ball of about twenty pounds.
I draw in my breath. "A captive, then," I say. "And not one of the scum. We must take him with us."
I turn to Clementine. "Run back down to the boat and get Chloe. Tell her to bring her lock-picking tools. Both pistols in your hands, now, and keep a sharp watch."
She looks at me with those cornflower blue eyes and nods, a slight smile on her lips. She pulls the pistols from her belt and heads out and down.
That look she gives me sometimes ... it's like an I-know-somethin'-you-don't-know look ... Nah, it's just my imagination.
I turn back to Higgins. "When we get it all loaded, leave a big bag of powder in here. We'll run a line of gunpowder from it and out the front, and when we're done, we'll light it off to burn anything in here that the robbers might find useful should they return. I want to hear their rotten teeth gnash from wherever I am when they discover that they don't even have their foul beds to sleep on."
"Aye, aye, Lieutenant," says Higgins, knowing how much I like the title. "And here is the item you might find interesting." He holds up a wooden thing that must be a musical instrument, for it has a hollow body, a fret board, and six strings.
I take it in my hands and strum the strings. It gives off a deep, mellow discord. "What is it?" I ask.
"I believe it is called a
guitarra,
Miss. It's a Spanish instrument," answers Higgins.
Yes, of course. I saw a woman in Kingston playing one the time I was there with the
Dolphin.
And, yes, of course, this is definitely
mine.
In time, Clementine and Chloe come panting into the cave. Shown the shackle lock, Chloe has it off in under a minute.
I, myself, am going to have to take some instruction from this remarkable schoolmistress of ours.
***
We finish loading up by early afternoon. The last load is carried down, and the charge set. Higgins has taken the child down to the
Belle
and put him in a clean bunk in the passenger area, where cool compresses are put to his fevered brow. We don't hold out much hope for the kid, but we'll do what we can for him.
I call Lightfoot, Katy, and Chee-a-quat back down from the top of the cliff, and I apply my flint striker to the trail of gunpowder leading up to the bag deep in the cave. It catches and the flame sizzles its way up and into the mouth of Cavern-Rock. We wait and are soon rewarded with a
whoosh!
and a tongue of flame that roars out the cave's mouth. It looks like the mouth of Satan, himself, clearing his fiery throat.
"
Wah!
" exclaims Lightfoot, in appreciation.
"
Wah!
" echoes Chee-a-quat.
And Katy, surprisingly, also says, but much more quietly, "
Wah.
"
Hmmm.
"Well, that purifies the place, at least till the vermin come creepin' back," say I, satisfied with both the spectacle and the outcome of the day. "Let's get back down to the
Belle.
"
I realize that everyone is weary, I know I certainly am, but I feel we've got to push on. I don't want to stay moored here tonight when any survivors of our attack might have leisure to take potshots at us.
I see that Jim has already put the towlines on the other two boats and we are ready to take off. I jump up on my quarterdeck.
"Stations, everyone!" I call out, and the oarsmen leap to their sweeps.
"Push us off!" and off we go into the stream to face the Rapids of the Ohio. A little white blur skitters around my feetâit is Pretty Saro squealing in delight at seeing me and at being back up on deck again, she having been sequestered below for the duration of the fight. I give her a quick scratch and say, "Later, baby. Work to do now," and I attend to business.
"Bring him up here," I order, and Higgins pulls the miserable Mr. Fortescue to his feet. "Cut off his leg bindings." It is done. I withdraw one of my pistols and hold it to his head. "Stand here. Do you have a good view of the river, Mr. Fortescue?"
"Y-Y-yes, I do, but..."
"Good. Then you may prolong the length of your miserable, rotten life a bit longer. We are now going to go down through the Rapids of the Ohio and you will guide us. If we so much as touch bottom or hit one rock, I shall blow your head off. Do you understand that, Mr. Fortescue?"
"Y-yes ... but what kind of fiend are you, that you would do this to me?"
"Ah, Mr. Fortescue, I am not half the fiend that you or any of your former friends are. I am, however, in many parts of the world known as Jacky Faber, Pyrate, and even as
La Belle Jeune Fille sans Merci,
'the beautiful young girl without mercy.' You may discount the 'beautiful,' but I advise you not to discount the 'without mercy.' It would be at your peril, Mr. Fortescue."
I pause here and call forward, "Crow Jane."
"What, Boss?" Her head pops up above the front hatchway. I suspect she has been slaughtering chickens for tonight's victory feast.