The Purchase Price; Or, The Cause of Compromise

by Emerson Hough

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE ADJUDICATION

  A dismal sight enough was presented when finally a few half-heartedtorches were pressed into use to produce a scant illumination.What had been a commonplace scene now was become one of tragedy.The bank of this willow-covered island had assumed the appearanceof a hostile shore. Combat, collision, war had taken the place ofrecent peace and silence. The night seemed ominous, as though noteven these incidents were more than the beginning of others yetmore serious soon to come.

  Out of the confusion at last there might have been heard the voiceof Dunwody, calling again for Jamieson. There was work for thesurgeon when the dead and injured of both sides at last werebrought aboard the little steamer and ranged in a ghastly commonrow along the narrow deck. "Take care of them, Jamieson," saidDunwody shortly. He himself leaned against the rail.

  "You're hurt yourself, Dunwody," exclaimed Jamieson, the blooddripping from his fingers when he half rose. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing--I got a nick in my leg, I think, but I'm all right. Seeto the others."

  Jamieson bent over the body of young Desha, who had been first tosuffer here on the debated ground of Missouri. He had been shotthrough the upper body and had died with little suffering. Of theassailing party two others also were beyond aid, one a youngplanter who had joined the party some miles back beyond St.Genevieve, the other a sallow example of the "poor white trash" whomade a certain part of the population of the lower country. Ofthese both were shot through the head, and death did not at oncerelieve them. They both lay groaning dully. Jamieson passed themswiftly by. The tally showed that of the Missourians three hadbeen killed, four badly wounded, besides the slight wound ofDunwody and that of a planter by the name of Sanders, who had beenshot through the arm.

  Of the boat party, smaller in the first place though well armed,the loss had been slightly less. Two men had been killed outrightand three others badly wounded, of these one, probably, fatallyhurt. To all of these Jamieson ministered as best he might. Thedeck was wet with blood. Silent and saddened spectators, theattacking party stood ranged along the rail on the side next to theshore. On the opposite side were the sullen defenders.

  Carlisle, the leader of the boat party, stood silent, with lipstightly compressed, not far from where Dunwody leaned against therail. He made no comment on the scene and was apparently notunused to such spectacles. Occasionally he bent over, the betterto observe the results of the surgeon's work, but he ventured nocomment and indulged in no recriminations. His slight but erectfigure was military now in its formality. His face was nothandsome, but the straight eyes showed fearless. The brow wasstrong, the nose straight and firm. Once he removed his"wideawake" hat and passed a hand through the heavy tangle of hisreddish hair. The face was that of a fanatic. It was later notunknown in yet bloodier fighting.

  The night faded after all, at last. Along the level of the water'ssurface came some glints from the eastern sky. The horizon paledslightly. At last a haggard dawn came to light the scene. Theshadows of the willow flat opened, and there lay exposed what nowwas a coast possessed by embattled forces.

  "Captain," began Dunwody at last, turning to the commander of theboat forces. "We will be leaving before long. As to you, you willhave to turn back. You will take your boat down-stream, if youplease."

  "It's not as I please," rejoined the other. "You order us backfrom our journey at your own peril."

  "Why argue the matter?" said Dunwody dully. "It would do no good.We're as much in earnest as you are about it, and we have beatenyou. You belong to the army, but these are not enlisted men, andyou're not carrying out any orders."

  "That part of the argument is plain," rejoined the young officer."But you are mistaken if you think you can order me. I'm anofficer, and I'm on my own way, and I am, therefore, under orders.I was following a prisoner late in my charge when I fell in withthis party bound up the river, to the Kansas front."

  "The courts may take all that up. This is Missouri soil."

  "It's no case for courts," answered the other sternly. "This willcome before the court of God Himself."

  A bitter smile played over the face of the Missourian. "Youpreach. Yet you yourself are lawless as the worst law-breakers.Who made our laws--you, or the whole people of this country? Andif God is your court, why did you have no better aid to-night.It's the long arm wins. You see, we will fight."

  "That I agree. It's force that wins, but not brute force. Youwill see."

  "Argument!" exclaimed Dunwody. "The answer is here at ourfeet--it's in blood."

  "So be it then!" said the other solemnly. "If it means war, let itbe war. I admit that we have a fugitive slave on board--a youngwoman--I suppose that was the excuse for your attack."

  "It was the cause of it; and we intend to take her," answeredDunwody. "We didn't intend to use violence unless it wasnecessary. But as to you, will you take your boat below and out ofthis country?"

  "I will not."

  "Very well, then, we'll take you from your own boat, and we'll makeher pay the penalty."

  "By what right?"

  "By the right of the long arm, since you insist."

  "You would make us prisoners--without any process of law whatever!"

  "You can thresh that out in your own courts later, if you like,"said Dunwody. "Meantime, we'll see if I can't find a place thatwill hold you."

  "Jamieson," he called out an instant later; "Clayton; come here.Take the roll of these men," he went on. "If any of them want todrop the thing at this point and go back, let them give parole.They'll have to agree to leave and never come back here again."

  "That's an outrage!" broke out the northern leader. "You and yourband of ruffians--you talk as though you owned this state, asthough this river weren't made as a highway of this continent.Don't you know that not even a river can be owned by an entirestate?"

  "We own this part of it to-day," rejoined Dunwody simply. "This isour judiciary. These are our legislators whom you see." Heslapped his rifle stock, touched a revolver butt at his belt. "Youleft the highway when you tied up to our shores. The temper of mymen is such that you are lucky to have a parole offered to you.You deserve not the treatment of soldiers, but of spies. Youdisgrace your uniform. These men are only fools. But what do theysay, Clayton?" he demanded turning to the latter as he finallyreturned.

  "They consider the expedition at an end," returned the Judge."Three of them want to go on home to St. Louis. Yates yonder isin favor of hanging them all. The boys are bitter about losingDesha."

  Dunwody looked the young leader calmly in the face. "You hear,"said he. "But you shall see that we are not such ruffians atheart, in spite of all. It's my intention to conclude this matteras decently as possible."

  "The others are willing to return," continued Judge Clayton. "Theywant to know what their captain intends."

  "Their captain does not intend to surrender," rejoined the latterfearlessly. "Let those desert who like."

  "I am with you, Captain," quietly said a tall young man, of Germanaccent, who had been foremost in the fighting.

  "I am with you, Captain."]

  "Good, Lieutenant Kammerer, I knew you'd stick," commented theleader.

  "As to the boat, Judge Clayton," resumed Dunwody, "what shall we dowith her?"

  "Burned boats tell no tales," here called out young Yatessententiously.

  "You hear," said Dunwody. "My men are not children."

  "It's piracy, that's all," rejoined the young leader,

  "Not in the least, sir," broke in Judge Clayton. "We'll burn herhere, tied to this bank on Missouri soil. The river fell duringthe night--some inches in all--she's hard aground on the shore."

  "Fall in, men!" commanded Dunwody suddenly. "Jamieson, fix up myleg, the best you can. It'll have to take its chances, for we'rein a hurry. About the paroled men, get them in the rowboats andset them loose. Get your crippled men off the boat at once,Jamieson. This couple of pri
soners I am going to take home withme. The rest can go.

  "But there's one thing we've forgotten--where's that girl?" Heturned to the northern leader.

  "She's below, in the cabin."

  "Go get her, Clayton," commanded Dunwody. "We'll have to be quicknow."

  Clayton found his way down the narrow companionway and in thedarkness of the unlighted lower deck fumbled for the lock of thecabin. When he threw open the door he found the interior dimlylighted by the low window. At first he could make out nothing, butat last got a glimpse of a figure at the farther side of the littleroom. "Who's there!" he demanded, weapon ready.

  There was no answer, but slowly, wearily, with unspeakable sadnessin every gesture, there rose the figure of the girl Lily, aroundwhose fortunes had centered all these turbulent scenes.

  In the confusion which followed, no one had a clear conception ofall the events which concluded this tragic encounter. Dunwody,Jamieson and Clayton cleared the men from the decks of the boat.The wounded hobbled to a place of shelter. The dead were laid outin a long and ghastly row at the edge of the willow grove.Meantime, busy hands brought dried brush and piled it up againstthe side of the boat as she lay against the bank, the leader inthis being the Honorable William Jones, who now mysteriouslyreappeared, after a temporary absence which had not been noted.The faint light of a match showed in the dim dawn. There came apuff of smoke or so, a tiny crackling. A denser burst of smokepierced through the light flames. Soon the fire settled to itswork, eating in even against the damp planking of the boat. Thedrier railings caught, the deck floors, the sides of the cabin. Inhalf an hour the _Helen Bell_, early border transport, was a massof flames. In a quarter-hour more, her stacks had fallen overboardand the hulk lay consumed half to the water-line.

  Soon the fire settled to its work.]