The Western Adventures of Cade McCall Box Set

by Robert Vaughan

  “We need to get this thing going,” Cade said. “They’re climbing over us like piss ants on a lump of sugar.”

  “It will take a few minutes to get up steam pressure,” Cabot replied.

  On deck they could hear the soldiers shouting, and pounding on the metal door that secured the hatch.

  “Ask the Brazilians if they think the hatch will hold,” Cade said.

  “It will hold,” one of the sailors replied in English.

  “Ah, good, we can talk.”

  Suddenly a smoking black object was dropped in through the opening on the turret.

  “It’s a hand grenade!” Cabot shouted.

  With the sputtering fuse quickly getting shorter, Cade picked it up and tossed it back through the little opening. It exploded on deck, and the shouts from outside suggested that some of the soldiers had been wounded from their own grenade.

  Cade climbed up to give him access to the opening so he could see what was going on. Then, he realized that he could use the opening as a gun port. The rifle he had taken from the guard was a Henry Repeating Rifle, and Cade began firing through the port with deadly effect. The soldiers on the flat deck had nothing to provide cover, and three of them went down before the others could get out of the line of fire.

  The turret housed a 70 pounder cannon, but upon being captured all the ammunition had been removed. The turret could swing around, however, which meant that no matter where the sailors were on deck, Cade could engage them.

  “Temos a pressão do vapor!” one of the Brazilians shouted, happily.

  “We have steam pressure,” Bento translated.

  “Good! Let’s get the hell out of here!” Cade replied.

  Once the little armored boat got underway the few Paraguayan soldiers who had remained on deck jumped into the water to be picked up by those in the boats and Cade saw the boats paddling away, quickly.

  “They’re leaving!” he said. “They’re giving up on us.”

  Cade spoke too soon, for less than a minute later, there was a tremendous crashing sound from outside. Turning the turret to see what was happening, he saw the simultaneous flash of several cannon from the shore.

  As they pulled away slowly, solid ball and explosive shell slammed into armored covering of the boat, and though the noise inside was deafening, they sustained no serious damage. Within fifteen minutes they were out of range and continuing up river.

  Three days later the Algoas put ashore.

  “The river will not allow us to go any farther,” Osorio said. Osorio was the senior of the three sailors, and the only one who could speak English.

  “You have our thanks,” Cade said.

  “No, Senhor, we thank you. We owe you our lives,” Osorio said.

  There was an Indian village near the river’s edge and it required but little negotiation to arrange for a canoe to take them the rest of the way up the Paraguay River until they literally ran out of water.

  “What do we do now?” Cade asked, as they watched the canoe paddle back downriver.

  Cabot smiled. “A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse. Or, with apologies to Mr. Shakespeare, a mule, a mule, my kingdom for a mule.”

  “I don’t have a kingdom to trade, but right now a horse or a mule would be good,” Cade said.

  “Fortunately, gentlemen, we don’t need a kingdom. Mr. Gundar will furnish us with mules for just a few coin of the realm.”

  Cade had never seen anyone with skin as wrinkled as Mr. Gundar. There was not one half inch of smooth surface anywhere on his body. He had no teeth, so his cheeks were sunken in, and his chin protruded so that it looked almost as if it could touch his nose. He was very thin, and very short, barely over five feet tall.

  It was obvious that he and Cabot knew each other, and after a few words he appeared with four mules, one of which he would ride so that, when they reached Diamantino, Gundar could bring his mules back.

  Six Months Later:

  Cade and Bento were having dinner with Cabot and Serafina, the beautiful Brazilian woman who shared his home. During the previous six months, both Cade and Bento had worked alongside Cabot as he explored other potential areas for mining diamonds. The diamonds were readily accessible, some found along stream banks or just lying on top of the ground, and any that were found in such a way, Cabot let Cade and Bento keep. The working mines were owned by the state, and Africans did all the labor.

  The cook had prepared turtle soup and manioc bread, which they enjoyed with sarsaparilla tea.

  “Must you leave tomorrow?” Serafina asked. “I so hate to see the two of you go.”

  “South America has been quite interesting, and, except for the first few weeks we were here, I’ve very much enjoyed it,” Cade said. “But I have been gone well over a year. I’m really anxious to get back, especially now that Oliver has allowed me to earn a little money.”

  “You deserve it. I would be dead if it weren’t for your initiative,” Cabot said. “I think you both should be leaving with about seven hundred fifty dollars in American money. Try not to exchange more diamonds than you have to here in Brazil. The natives often find diamonds and turn them in for farina, and I’m afraid some of the local dealers are not very scrupulous.”

  “I have to exchange a few before I can buy passage for America. Is there someone you can recommend?” Cade asked.

  “Captain Hislop. He’s been around these parts for at least fifteen or twenty years, and he can be trusted, for all that he’s a Scotsman,” Cabot said with a little chuckle. “You’ll find him when you get to Santarem, but first you have to get there.”

  “You say that like it might be difficult,” Bento said.

  Both Seraphina and Cabot smiled. “Just remember to close your eyes when your guide pushes his little canoe into the rapids,” Cabot said. “I’ll go with you to the headwaters of the Tapajos tomorrow and make sure the Matses guide you hire is a competent one.”

  “I appreciate that,” Cade said. “How long do you think it will take us to get to Santa Maria de Belem?”

  “It’s going to take at least six months to get to the Atlantic.”

  “Yes, but once you leave from Santarem, it should be a delightful trip,” Seraphina added as she rose from the table. “I have a present for each of you.”

  “Oh, Seraphina, you didn’t have to do that,” Cade said. “You and Oliver have been more than generous for the whole time we have been here.”

  “Wait,” she said, holding up her finger. She returned a moment later with two string hammocks. “When you’re floating down the Amazon, you’ll enjoy having these to lie in as you watch the coffee, rubber, and orange trees go by. Why, who knows, you may decide that you don’t want to go back to the States.”

  “I’m definitely going back to the States, but who knows? Maybe someday I’ll return.”

  15

  CADE AND BENTO HAD SEPARATED at Santa Maria de Belem. Bento wanted to go back to Boston, not only to tell Jefferson Tait where his son was, but also to reconnect with family and friends he had left there. Ironically, Bento would be sailing on a Tait ship, the Enterprise, and not as a passenger, but as an able-bodied seaman, having signed on as such.

  Cade booked passage on the steamship Loyalist, which left four days after the Enterprise, and though it was primarily a cargo ship, it did have accommodations for passengers. On March 15th, 1867, which was one year, seven months and eight days after Cade had left New Orleans as a shanghaied sailor on board the Fremad, the Loyalist docked in New Orleans.

  “It has been a pleasure having you aboard, Mr. McCall,” the purser said as Cade left the ship.

  “Thank you,” Cade said. “Please extend my compliments to the captain and the crew for making the passage a pleasant one.”

  Cade was anxious to convert his diamonds into cash. Cabot had appraised them at approximately 750 dollars, though he did caution him that the market would vary.

  The first thing Cade did was check into a hotel at the corner of St. Louis and Char
tres. This was the same hotel he had stayed in the last time he was in New Orleans, though it had been for one night only, his time in New Orleans having been truncated by events.

  “Do you have a city directory?” Cade asked as he was signing the register.

  “Indeed we do, sir. You will find it on that desk,” the clerk replied, pointing to the object as he spoke. “We ask that you examine it here, in the lobby, though, and not take it to your room.”

  “That’ll be fine,” Cade said.

  Before he even went up to his room, he went over to the desk and began perusing the directory. It took less than a minute to find what he was looking for:

  Culpepper Investment Services: Stock, Land, Gold, Gems

  327 Bourbon Street

  “Oh that’s quite easy to find, sir,” the clerk said when Cade asked directions. “You just go up St. Louis Street for three blocks, then turn left on Bourbon. They have a nice sign out front, you can’t miss it.”

  Ten minutes later, Cade was talking to the investment broker. The broker’s response to Cade saying he wanted to sell some diamonds was almost dismissive.

  “Sir, if you have a diamond pendant or jewel of some kind, I really think you would be better off selling it to a jeweler, or perhaps to a pawnbroker.”

  Cade shook his head. “I’m not talking about that kind of diamonds.” Cade was carrying a small leather pouch, and he poured the contents onto the broker’s desk.

  “Oh my!” the broker said, looking at the raw diamonds. “We don’t often see this fine a specimen. Where did you come by these?”

  “I’m just off the boat from Brazil.”

  “Well, they are marvelous.”

  “Do you think you can handle them?”

  “Yes, I’m sure we can.”

  After weighing the diamonds, then assessing each one individually, the broker stepped to one side and discussed the offer with one of the other brokers. Cade had decided to stand firm at seven hundred dollars, keeping in mind Cabot’s suggestion that he should realize around seven hundred fifty dollars.

  The broker returned.

  “We are prepared to offer you thirteen hundred and fifty dollars,” he said. “Admittedly they would be worth more in New York or Boston, but we are in New Orleans.”

  Cade wanted to laugh out loud, but he restrained himself, and with a quiet, and he hoped, reserved, nod he replied.

  “I’ll take it.”

  The broker smiled. “We’ll write you a bank draft.”

  “I am going to be traveling, I would prefer the money in cash.”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have that much cash on hand.”

  “There is a bank across the street.”

  The broker sighed. “Very well, if you will wait here, I’ll send our Mr. Peabody to the bank to withdraw the funds.”

  “Thank you.”

  Half an hour later Cade was enjoying his dinner in Antoine’s. He thought about the money he now had on his person, which, ironically, was almost the same amount he had with him the last time he came to New Orleans. The only difference was, he had come by this money legally.

  As he thought about the money he had lost here, he remembered the person that he was certain had taken it: Chantal. And after he finished his meal, he planned to pay her a visit.

  He smiled as he anticipated the expression on her face when he confronted her.

  Topping off his meal with a glass of claret, Cade returned to the Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop Bar. As before, the bar was filled with seamen and river boatman, but whereas the first time the appearance and patois of the seamen had been relatively strange to him, this time there was a very strong familiarity. It took very little imagination for him to put himself, once more, hanging in the braces, or in the fo’c’sle of the Fremad.

  A very attractive young woman approached him.

  “You don’t look like a sailor,” she said, and indeed, Cade had abandoned his seaman’s attire even before he boarded the Enterprise.

  “That’s because I’m not a sailor,” he said.

  The young woman, who had long blonde hair and flashing blue eyes, smiled broadly. “That’s all right, you are welcome here, anyway. My name is Delight.”

  “Delight, is it? Tell me, Delight, would Chantal be here by any chance?”

  Delight looked confused. “Chantal? No, there is nobody here by the name of Chantal.”

  “Oh,” Cade said, the expression in his voice showing his obvious disappointment.

  “Did you know a Chantal here?”

  “Yes, I met her the last time I was here, about a year and a half ago.”

  “I’ve only been here for about six months, but wait. Eddie, the bartender has been here forever. If you’ll wait here for a moment I’ll see if he knows anything about her.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Galveston,” Delight said when she came back.

  “Galveston?”

  “Eddie said she just up and quit one day about eighteen months or so ago. Said she was going to Galveston. But I’m here, honey.”

  “Yeah,” Cade said, smiling at the thought. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

  Delight was the first woman Cade had been with since Chantal, and though it was enjoyable, it didn’t take very long. He was back downstairs within half an hour, and stepping up to the bar, ordered a beer.

  “Delight tells me that you said Chantal had gone to Galveston.”

  “That’s right,” the bartender said as he made a few swipes of the bar with a damp cloth.

  “Do you know where she is, in Galveston?”

  The bartender chuckled. “No, I don’t, but I’ll tell you this, you aren’t the first one to ask about her. She was a very good looking woman. We’ve had a lot of men come by, looking for her since she left.”

  “Have you heard from her?”

  “Not directly, but one of the girls that used to work here heard from her. She said Chantal had come into a little money from somewhere, and was doing very well in Galveston.”

  “Is she now?”

  “That’s what they . . .” the bartender stopped in mid-sentence, then glared at someone who had just come in.

  “Lundy, I told you not to come in here anymore. You’re not welcome in Lafitte’s.”

  “You ain’t nothin’ but the bartender, Eddie. You got no right to keep me out.”

  “No, but the owner of this place does. You’re bad for business. The sailors know that you come in here to shanghai men, and they’re afraid it might happen to them. We’re losing customers.”

  “So what? It ain’t like they won’t be paid. The men I shanghai draw their wages same as any other sailor. Lots of ‘em sign on for a second cruise.”

  “Maybe the men would like to choose the ship they serve on,” Cade said. “Or maybe they don’t want to go to sea at all.”

  Lundy looked at Cade, obviously irritated at the intrusion into his conversation with Eddie.

  “What gives you the right to butt in to a private conversation?” Lundy asked.

  “I’m one of the men you shanghaied,” Cade said. “That means this particular conversation isn’t all that private.”

  Lundy stuck his hand into his jacket pocket, and when it came out, it was clutching a Derringer pistol.

  Cade was holding the heavy mug of beer by its handle, and he smashed it into Lundy’s face before the contractor could thumb back the hammer. Lundy went down with a deep cut on his face, bleeding profusely.

  Bending over, Cade picked up the little pistol, broke it down, unloaded it, then dropped it into a half-full spittoon.

  “Give me a glass of whiskey and a clean towel,” Cade said. When Eddie responded, Cade poured the whiskey on the cut on Lundy’s face.

  “Ow! What the hell are you doing, you son of a bitch?”

  “Trying to keep the wound from putrefying, though I have no idea why.”

  Holding the towel over his cut, Lundy stood.

  “Get out of here, Lundy. Get out of here now, and don’t
come back,” Eddie ordered.

  “Give me my pistol back,” Lundy said to Cade.

  Cade pointed to the half-filled spittoon. “I dropped it in there.”

  Lundy glared at Cade and Eddy, then, leaving his pistol un-retrieved and holding the towel over his wound, he left the bar.

  “Hey!” one of the customers called. “Did you see that? That feller at the bar just knocked Lundy on his ass!”

  The others cheered and applauded.

  “Mister, let us buy you a drink!” the sailor offered.

  “Well, I will take another beer,” Cade said. “Somehow I seem to have spilled the one I had.”

  The steamship Crescent, with Captain J. Wilson as its master, was a four hundred ton vessel with a walking beam steam engine that turned side wheels. Part of Morgan Shipping Company’s service between New Orleans and Galveston, it followed the coast line, never getting out of sight of land. It made the trip in two and a half days, dropping anchor at two-thirty in the afternoon on Thursday, the 21st of March.

  Leaving the docks, Cade found himself on The Strand, a busy street filled with wagon traffic and, it seemed, more horses than people. Most of the men, he noticed, were wearing denim trousers tucked down into boots the tops of which came halfway up their calves. They wore colorful cotton shirts: red, blue, orange or yellow, and high-crown, wide-brim hats.

  He decided then that one of the first things he was going to have to do was dress accordingly; otherwise he would stand out like a sore thumb. He had no particular plan in mind beyond finding Chantal and seeing if he would be able to recover any money, but he thought it would be better if he could blend in with the others.

  He fought against the urge to buy new clothes right now though, thinking it would be best to study the town and its citizens for a while.

  What better place to contemplate that, he asked himself, than a bar? And when it came to bars, he certainly had a broad choice. From where he was standing he could see half a dozen bars, though they seemed to refer to themselves as saloons. They were buildings with false fronts, across which the names were painted in brightly colored letters: Gem, Age, Texas King, Anchor, Stirrup and Saddle, and Cow Palace.