The Floating Outfit 27

by J. T. Edson

  ‘And when it happens to me,’ Roxton continued. ‘I’d be just as obliged if you’d refrain from saying, “Pull yourself together, man”.’

  ‘I wish I’d never asked!’ Freddie asserted, realizing how such comments helped to relieve the tension and finding it a comfort herself as she was all too aware of the peril which the two young men would be facing while trying to render the grenade harmless. ‘Come on, Babsy. Let’s leave them to their fun.’

  ‘Yes’m,’ the little blonde replied and also contrived to conceal her concern. ‘Me stomach’s turning over from all them jokes.’ Nevertheless, there was some hint of it as she continued, ‘Good luck!’

  ‘Well, old boy,’ Roxton said, when everybody else had withdrawn to a safe distance with the blond giant and the black clad deputy dragging along the still unconscious massive bearded man. ‘Shall I carve, or will you?’

  ‘It’s my hat’s’ll get mussed up should anything go wrong,’ Waco answered. ‘So I reckon I’d sooner do it.’

  ‘As you will, old thing, as you will, the aristocrat assented. ‘Hand over your “titfer” and see what you can do.’

  Chapter Six – Dusty Isn’t Going to Like It

  ‘I suppose this is hardly the time or place to ask, old thing,’ Lord James Roxton remarked, after having glanced around to ensure everybody else had withdrawn to a safe distance. He carried on, continuing to behave in what seemed to be the disinterested fashion of one making casual conversation, ‘But you do know how this little blighter works?’

  ‘Just so long’s it’s like them I’ve seen back home to the OD Connected,’ Waco claimed, eyeing with considerable disfavor the spherical black object reposing in the crown of his Stetson and somehow conveying a suggestion of evil against the white lining. ‘Dusty brought a couple of ’em back from the War and it looks like they do.’

  ‘That’s a comfort,’ the British aristocrat declared, also looking down at the hat he was holding with both hands by its wide brim. ‘It’s not that I don’t have complete faith in you and all that, but I didn’t know you had things like this over here in the colonies.’

  ‘You don’t find ’em in your friendly neighborhood general store, I’ll have to come right out and ’fess up truthful true,’ the blond youngster answered, still studying the device in the hope of discovering if it differed in any external fashion from the Haynes ‘Excelsior’ Percussion Grenades to which he had referred. 26 ‘And I wish this son-of-a-bitch wasn’t here at all.’

  ‘But you can deal with it?’

  ‘Sure—only—!’

  ‘Only?’

  ‘Happen I’m wrong, don’t let on to my amigos such was so!’

  ‘I won’t, trust me,’ Roxton promised, as soberly as if he believed he would be unaffected by the explosion if the grenade was detonated so close to him. Having considerable experience in dangerous situations, even though he was willing to concede none had offered such a great element of personal risk, he was aware that such an apparently light-hearted and inconsequential conversation helped to relieve the tensions at such a moment. ‘Shall we find out whether you’re right or wrong, old thing?’

  ‘Why not?’ Waco drawled without any too discernible concern, albeit showing what anybody who knew him well would have recognized as being considerable emotion.

  Saying the words, the blond youngster reached into the hat and lifted the device with great care in both hands.

  Made of black cast iron, clearly formed by two separate pieces which had been screwed together, the exterior of the grenade was in the shape of a ball with a ridge around the middle and had a diameter of two and a half inches. This was no different from the ‘Excelsior’. However, the present example bore a shine suggesting it had been manufactured more recently than the War Between the States and—particularly as it was no longer being produced by the original designer, having been considered too unsafe for general issue—it showed none of the evidence of having been a ‘battlefield purchase’, acquired as loot, like the pair he had seen previously.

  The excellence of the condition, Waco told himself silently, implied somebody else had made the device since the War and there could be modifications he knew nothing about in the construction!

  In fact, the grenade might even operate upon a completely different principle!

  ‘Would you reckon to twist to the right, or the left, amigo?’ the youngster inquired, holding the grenade firmly with the tips of his left thumb and fingers.

  ‘Dunno, old thing,’ Roxton replied and, despite his aura of seeming ennui, a close acquaintance would have realized he was under a similar strain to that of the Texan. ‘My folks were never militarily inclined, nor even jolly old sea dogs like Ramage’s family, so I’ve never even seen anything like it.’

  ‘Then why’re you standing here?’ Waco inquired with justification, although his tone was curious rather than annoyed.

  ‘Well, old boy,’ the British aristocrat answered. ‘I thought you’d look rather lonely standing here by yourself.’

  ‘I wish I wasn't standing here, by myself or with you, pleasant-like though your company be,’ the youngster admitted wryly, grateful for the moral support he was receiving and adding to the liking and respect he had already formed for the Englishman. ‘So why don’t I just put the damn thing down some place and we’ll light a shuck. Babsy’s got a lil friend called “Ginger” as’s close looking to her’s two peas in a pod, ’cepting their hair’s different color. We could take you along and present you all right and proper to her.’

  ‘What a splendid idea, old thing,’ Roxton enthused, darting a quick and far from disapproving glance to where Barbara ‘Babsy’ Smith was standing in the forefront of the crowd with Freddie Woods, Sir John Uglow Ramage, Harland Todhunter and the other two deputy town marshals. ‘I’d say “yes” to it like a shot, but all these good people are standing around waiting for the little fellow there to blow us up and it would be such a shame to disappoint them.’

  ‘We couldn't do that,’ Waco admitted, ignoring the perspiration which was trickling down his forehead. ‘It wouldn’t be right at all!’

  While the latest part of the conversation was taking place, alert for the slightest indication that he could be doing something wrong, Waco started to twist the upper half of the sphere slowly in a clockwise direction. It moved just a fraction, then halted and resisted his further efforts. Reversing the direction his right hand had been taking, continuing to grip the lower section firmly in his left, he met with a momentary refusal. Then, as he intended, the movement was commenced anti-clockwise.

  Feeling the motion stick, the youngster stopped his hand’s pressure!

  After only a brief pause, without halting his suggestion about going to introduce the English aristocrat to Babsy’s friend, Ginger, the youngster started the turning motion again. Although nothing was discernible on his face, as he had suspected there could be some means employed to prevent the device from being dismantled after it was primed ready for use, he experienced a surge of relief when the upper section started moving without the effect which would have taken place had his supposition proved correct. He was less concerned when a second and third brief obstruction was encountered.

  ‘Aw shucks!’ Waco said in well simulated annoyance, lifting away the liberated upper section of the outer casing. ‘Looks like we’re going to disappoint these good folks after all.’

  ‘You Yankees just don’t have any sporting spirit at all,’ Roxton replied, but he too was unable to entirely conceal the relief he was experiencing.

  ‘Look here, amigo,’ the youngster said, with what appeared to be the serious demeanor of one imparting information of the greatest importance. ‘I know you haven’t been over here in the colonies for long. But, happen you want to stay on here all happy and peaceable, don’t you never call no Texan a Yankee.’

  ‘An error of some magnitude, I suspect?’ the aristocrat queried.

  ‘You could say that,’ Waco confirmed. ‘I was raising fourteen summers�
��and winters too, comes to that—afore I even knowed’s “god-damned Yankees” wasn’t all one word.’

  ‘I thought that thing was like grenades I’ve seen in Europe, with a burning fuse to set it off,’ Roxton breathed, losing all his suggestion of dry levity as he watched the latest developments. ‘So I was going to catch it with my bare hands!’

  ‘I’d thought on them self-same lines,’ Waco admitted. ‘Only I remembered them I’d seen back to home just in time and concluded using my hat’d be safer’s it’d make for a softer landing.’

  While speaking, the youngster and Roxton were studying the result of the former’s efforts!

  The removal of the cover had exposed the means by which a Haynes ‘Excelsior’ Grenade operated!

  While limited in its radius of lethal effect, the device would have killed, or maimed, several of its intended victims if it had been allowed to land!

  Certainly neither Waco nor the Englishman would have survived if the grenade had exploded while it was being opened!

  A second cast iron sphere, which had fourteen nipples covered by brass percussion caps spaced evenly all around it, was within the outer shell. When thrown and striking a solid enough object, one of the detonators was certain to receive a blow of sufficient force to cause it to perform its function by setting off the waiting charge of black powder. When the explosion came, both inner and outer cases would shatter into many pieces and spray their immediate surroundings with the effect of what a later generation would call a ‘fragmentation’ bomb.

  However, the grenade held by Waco differed in one important respect from those he had previously examined!

  The youngster considered that, whoever had been responsible, the modification rendered the device in his hands somewhat safer to carry and use than those made by Haynes during the War Between the States!

  Three slender wires had been attached around the center line of the inner sphere and they were rested in tiny grooves positioned on the top of the outer two-part globe’s lower section, around which the ‘male’ thread of the screw was carved. Waco concluded the slight protuberances of the wires had caused the brief hesitation while he was turning and, regardless of the momentary concern he had experienced on the first occasion, he appreciated why they had been added. Instead of the inner sphere being free to move around within its outer casing, thereby adding to the risk of a premature explosion, it was held clear until a definite impact buckled one or more of the comparatively fragile supports and allowed the nearest percussion caps to make the required contact.

  ‘Well, it’s done now, anyway,’ Roxton claimed, after Waco had handed him the upper section of the outer sphere and carefully lifted out the inner, still potentially lethal, inner globe to remove the percussion caps from their respective nipples. ‘Let's go and apologize to all these good people for not having blown ourselves up.’

  ‘I hope that youngster of yours knows what he's doing!' Harland Todhunter commented in a hoarse voice, watching Waco and Roxton with a fascinated gaze. ‘For their sakes, I mean of course.’

  ‘Don’t worry none about that,’ the handsome blond giant replied, the remark having been directed at him. Despite the even timbre to his voice, feeling the hand which Freddie Woods had grasped involuntarily being squeezed, he was given added confirmation of his supposition that she was sharing his well concealed anxiety. ‘The boy knows what he’s doing most times.’

  ‘I don’t know when he ever has,’ the black clad Texan put in, but his manner suggested he too was more concerned for the youngster’s safety than was implied by his words. ‘You just tell me one time.’

  ‘The day he stopped taking your advice,’ the big blond replied, glancing at the unmoving shape of the enormous bearded man at his feet. ‘How’s about you earning your wages by getting the doctor to look this jasper over. I want to apologize most humble for whomping his lil ole pumpkin head so hard when he wakes up.’

  ‘It looks as if everything is all right,’ the millionaire stated, after the black clad Texan had strolled away with the Winchester Model of 1866 rifle across the crook of his bent left arm. Watching Waco and Roxton walking in the direction of his party, he turned his gaze back to the blond giant and continued, ‘And, if you don’t mind me saying so, you and your men have done a very good piece of work, Captain Fog.’

  ‘I agree whole-heartedly,’ the beautiful Englishwoman declared, having snatched her hand free on realizing who she had grasped in her anxiety. Waiting until the expressions of similar sentiments from the men around her had ended, she went on, ‘However, Harland, this is Mark Counter. Captain Fog is away on business.’

  ‘My apologies, sir!’ the burly millionaire offered immediately, running his gaze over the gigantic muscular development of the golden blond Texan. ‘I naturally assumed—!’

  ‘Shucks, Dusty isn’t anywheres near so good looking as I am,’ Mark Counter replied, having been subjected to the same error of identification on more than one occasion. However, as he did not have a jealous bone in his gigantic frame and had the greatest respect and liking for his absent amigo—born of dangers shared and out of each having saved the other’s life more than once—he had never felt resentment when such a misconception occurred. 27

  ‘Your ma—friend in black is the Ysabel Kid, of course?’ Todhunter asked, although the words came out as more of a statement of fact. ‘I’ve heard how well he can handle a rifle and the shot he made to save this young lady certainly proved it.’28

  ‘I’m mortal ashamed to admit I even know him,’ the blond giant drawled. ‘But he’s the Ysabel Kid.’ Then he swung his gaze to where Waco and Roxton were approaching and greeted them with what strangers might have considered a lack of gratitude and cordiality. ‘You took your own good time.’

  ‘I’d’ve been back sooner, only this gent was asking me for directions to some place’s we could take Babsy and Ginger for a drink,’ Waco claimed. Then he swung his right hand and tossed something towards the little blonde. ‘Here, honey. Catch!’

  Responding instinctively, the little blonde did as she was requested. On looking at the object she had caught and finding it to be the reassembled black grenade, she let out a screech like a scalded cat. However, indicative of her strength of will and presence of mind, realizing the youngster would not put her at risk in any way, she was just able to restrain her equally instinctive impulse to throw away what was certain to be a now innocuous device.

  ‘You silly bleeder!’ Babsy restricted herself to retaliating in a just slightly less than ear-splitting screech. ‘You wait until—!’

  ‘You pull all the hairs off his chest, gal!’ Mark suggested and reduced both the girl and his amigo to blushing confusion. 29 Then he became serious as he swung his attention to the men who were crowding around to offer congratulations. ‘I reckon we’d best make for either the Railroad House, or the Fair Lady, gents. This business need some talking over.’

  ‘Make it my place,’ Freddie suggested with a smile. ‘You can have the main side room, as there isn’t a big poker game going on in it and I can always use the business.’

  ‘Your place it is, dear lady!’ Ramage decided and, with the exception of Sir Michael Dinglepied, who had stood silent in the background ever since he had decided it was the safest thing to do, the rest of the men gave their concurrence. ‘Lead on, please.’

  ‘I’ve heard some about that Arnaud Chavallier jasper, although we’ve never had any fuss with him and his bunch either here or while we were running the law up to Quiet Town in Montana back a spell,’ Mark Counter declared, after the party had transferred to the room offered by the beautiful Englishwoman and were seated around its big green baize-covered table. ‘But how does he get mixed up in this, Colonel French?’

  ‘It wouldn’t do his ambitions any good for this spur-line to be built, or to have any other kind of better relations between Canada and the U.S.A.,’ replied the tall, well built and good looking middle-aged man who had made the identification of the attackers outside
the passenger depot. ‘For all his prattle about improving the lot of the Metis, he’s like the British and French so-called ‘liberals’ who support him and want chaos as a means of helping him gain complete control over them without being willing to follow a democratic process in the attempt to get it.’

  ‘I thought Louis Riel was the leader of the Metis,’ one of the American businessman asked.

  ‘He should be,’ Colonel George A. French replied, giving no indication if he noticed the vicious scowl directed his way by Sir Michael Dinglepied when he had spoken in such a derogatory fashion about ‘so-called “liberals”’. ‘It’s always been my opinion that Chavallier and not Riel was the instigator when he summarily tried and executed Thomas Scott for speaking out against him. Basically, he was a fair minded man and only wanted to do good for his people. Le Loup Garou only wants to do good for himself.’

  ‘Were you expecting trouble from him?’ Harland Todhunter inquired.

  ‘I always expect trouble from his kind,’ French asserted. ‘But this shouting about, “Death to all capitalist exploiters” is a new wrinkle. Their usual cry is, “Give the Metis land of their own and the right to govern it”; which really means, “and we will govern it regardless of whether they want us to or not’’.’

  ‘Could be they didn’t want us to know they were Metis,’ Mark suggested. ‘They were dressed as gandy dancers, ’cepting for the two wearing moccasins, and keeping their hair hidden. So that jasper was told to yell what he did to make us reckon they was just ordinary anarchists.’

  ‘That’s possible,’ French conceded, nodding approvingly and deciding the blond giant had formed a shrewd assumption. ‘Some of the better kind of Metis and the decent whites who support them and believe they have some genuine grievances which should be granted redress wouldn’t take kindly to learning they were trying to stop the spur-line reaching our inter-continental railway. They know how much benefit can accrue from it.’