by J. T. Edson
‘I will,’ Hallistead agreed, and turned his attention to the principals. ‘Will you come and select your weapons, gentlemen? I am required to point out that it is not permissible to test the trigger pull by cocking and lowering the hammer.’
Advancing, Dumoulin allowed Ole Devil to precede him and make the first choice. Having done so, the Texian watched the youngster take the remaining pistol. Noticing the slight hesitancy Dumoulin displayed while doing so, he decided that it was not because his own selection had spoiled an arrangement to gain an advantage through a discrepancy in the weapon’s loads.
‘You will now take your places on the marks,’ Hallistead continued, after the pair had armed themselves. ‘When you are in position, I will say, “Attention! Feu!—Un!—Deux!—Trois! at this speed. If either is not ready at the word, “attention”, he may say so without prejudice. But, otherwise, after the word, “feu!” is given, he raises his pistol and must fire before the count reaches “trois”. Is that all understood and acceptable to both of you?’
‘Perfectly,’ Ole Devil drawled instantly, and his whole attitude was redolent of complete confidence.
‘Y—Yes!’ Dumoulin assented, after a brief pause, the word emerging like the pop of a tightly fitting cork being drawn from the neck of a bottle.
‘Then, gentlemen,’ Hallistead said, in tones of awesome finality. ‘Take your places, please.’
The pistol in Dumoulin’s right hand seem to weigh remarkably heavy as, knowing that the die was cast, he walked slowly to where Jaloux was waiting. With each step, he felt his anxiety increasing. He realized that his pride and his companions’ insistence had led him into a terribly perilous predicament. While he had been taught how to shoot, he was all too aware that he was anything but an expert marksman. Not, he told himself miserably, that he was any more skilful with a sword. Yet he could see no possible way of evading the duel now that the preparations had gone so far. To even make an attempt would brand him forever as a coward.
Taking his place upon the mark, without meeting his second’s eyes, Dumoulin stared across the hollow. Just over twenty-five yards away, the Texian was already in position. Still radiating self assurance, as if certain of how the affair would turn out, he was handing his personal weapons to the little Oriental. Determined to try and appear just as confident, the youngster passed his own pistol to Jaloux and refastened his jacket.
Again Dumoulin studied his adversary. If he had known more about such affairs, he would have realized that Pierre-Quint had put him at a disadvantage when discussing how the principals should dress. The Texian’s buckskin shirt was far less distinguishable against the background of the hollow’s bare sides than his own black coat and white shirt would be.
‘Make ready, gentlemen,’ Hallistead called, from where he—in his capacity as Director of the Duel—and Pierre-Quint were standing. They had positioned themselves midway between the adversaries and about six yards out of the line of fire. ‘Cock your pistols.’
Drawing a deep breath, Dumoulin reached for and drew back his weapon’s hammer. A more experienced man would have known that the soft click made by the mechanism operating signified a very light trigger pull. To the youngster, the sound only meant that he was even closer to the terrifying climax. He silently promised himself that, providing he survived, he would never again be foolish enough to allow himself to be persuaded to become involved in another duel; especially one which every ounce of his being warned should never have, and need never have, happened.
Having made his resolution, the youngster forced himself to follow the procedure he had been taught was mandatory in such a situation. Turning sideways to the line of fire, he wondered if doing so really did present his adversary a more difficult target. His knowledge of anatomy, scanty as it was at that time, warned that there were considerations which outweighed the possible advantage. He made sure that he kept his right elbow pressed against his right hip, held the pistol’s butt to his thigh and pointed its barrel downwards. xvii
Noticing how his opponent was standing, Dumoulin’s misgiving over his own posture increased. He also doubted that the Texian’s hand was feeling as unsteady as his own. While Captain Hardin did not have a reputation as a duelist, he had already been involved in considerable fighting and was held in high esteem for his courage.
Although Ole Devil had never aspired to gain a name as a duelist, he had accepted that circumstances might compel him to engage in an ‘affair of honor’. So he had concluded that the traditional sideways stance was not the most effective. The slight advantage in the reduction of the target area was overridden, in his opinion, by the fact that a wound received would prove more dangerous. A bullet which could perforate both lungs when sideways could only strike one if the recipient stood squarely to the shooter. Several other internal organs were also safer in the latter posture. By leaning forward slightly, which was permissible, the ribs were contracted and afforded protection to the heart and lungs. Finally, one could take aim better when standing facing the object to be hit, than one could when craning the head around to look over the right shoulder, which hampered the raised arm and strained the eyes.
Bearing those points in mind, the Texian stood with his feet astride the line; but kept his pistol as was proscribed.
‘Attention!’ Hallistead barked, then paused to see whether either participant wished to raise an objection.
To Dumoulin, it seemed that time was standing still.
Staring at the tall, slender and menacing figure, so near yet somehow so far away, he was filled with a sense of foreboding. The Texian’s tanned face was so much like the portraits he had seen of the Devil that it was even more unnerving. Only by exercising all his willpower did the youngster control his urge to throw down his weapon and run.
Satisfied that the duelists were ready, Hallistead continued with the ritual. Sometimes a Director of the Duel would hurry his count with the intention of confusing the adversaries and lessening the chances of either fatally injuring the other by taking a long and careful aim. But the entertainer did not hurry. Instead, as he had warned when giving the instructions, he continued to speak at the speed—equivalent to one hundred words a minute—proscribed by convention.
‘Feu!—Un!—Deux!—Trois!’
At the first word, acting on the signal to commence, Dumoulin and Ole Devil began to raise their right arms. Instantly, the differences between their frame of mind and respective ability became obvious.
Where the Texian was elevating his pistol with a smoothly flowing motion, the youngster’s weapon came up in an almost spasmodic jerk.
Before Dumoulin could take any kind of aim, in fact only chance was causing the barrel to point in Ole Devil’s direction, his right forefinger twitched involuntarily. Slight as the gesture was, it proved sufficient to operate the light pull of the trigger. To his horror, he saw the hammer begin to snap forward.
There was a sharp crack as the pistol’s firing charge was detonated!
Gushing from the muzzle, the whitish gases of the burned powder obscured Dumoulin’s target. In spite of that, his every instinct warned him that he could not have made a hit.
An instant later, as the cloud drifted away, the youngster found that his supposition was correct!
Dumoulin realized that nothing could save him from the Mephistophelian-featured Texian’s response.
Nor was a man of Ole Devil Hardin’s ability likely to miss!
No spurt of smoke and flame erupted from the muzzle of the Texian’s pistol as a warning that a swiftly flying portion of lead had already been emitted.
Instead, showing not the slightest concern over having a bullet pass by very close to his head, Ole Devil continued to swing the pistol around until it was held behind his back.
‘J’ai oublie!’ the Texian announced and repeated it in English, ‘I have forgotten.’
For a moment, Dumoulin was numbed by a mixture of amazement and relief. At first, he could not appreciate what was happening. Then an unde
rstanding flooded through him. It was followed by a feeling of gratitude towards his adversary. By acting in such a manner, Captain Hardin was offering a way by which the duel could be brought to an end without the need for any further exchange of shots. What was more, the youngster knew that he could now withdraw with honor.
In the hope of preventing frivolous and trivial challenges and to make opponents realize that a duel was a matter of life and death, every convention, and the Clonmel Code in particular, prohibited deliberately firing to miss an adversary. xviii It did happen, of course, but there was a more dignified and honorable means if one had no desire to injure one’s opponent. By placing the pistol behind the back and declaring, ‘J’ai oublie,’ the duelist displayed his intentions in a manner which left no doubt as to their interpretation.
‘Wh—!’ Pierre-Quint gasped, watching Ole Devil hand the discharged pistol to Tommy Okasi and retrieve his own weapons. ‘What—?’
‘Shots have been exchanged,’ Hallistead answered, and there was just a hint of relief in his voice. ‘Honor is now satisfied and the affair is over.’
‘Over?’ the Creole yelped, but the entertainer was already walking away. So, scowling furiously, he strode towards Dumoulin and Jaloux.
By the time Hallistead joined his companions, Ole Devil had sheathed the bowie knife and was returning the pistol to its loop on the belt.
‘You handled that with the kind of foresight and acumen which I expected of you, if I may so say, sir,’ the entertainer praised. ‘However, the gentlemen from New Orleans may not be in concurrence.’
‘They’d better be,’ Ole Devil growled, glancing to where the Creoles were talking, gesticulating to their principal. ‘I’m in no mood to go on with this damned farce.’
‘Could I suggest we make it appear that we are taking our departure?’ Hallistead asked. ‘That should provoke them into declaring their intentions.’
‘Let’s do that,’ Ole Devil agreed and the entertainer felt he would rather not be in the other party’s shoes if they did raise any objections.
‘Hey there!’ Pierre-Quint shouted, seeing the three men turning as if meaning to leave the hollow. Stalking forward with Jaloux at his side, they were followed by Dumoulin who was still carrying the empty pistol. ‘We haven’t finished yet. There must be another shot.’
‘Like hell there must!’ Ole Devil spinning around and stepping away from his companions. Such was the concentrated venom in his voice as he confronted the approaching trio that they came to a halt. ‘It’s over! Finished! Done!’
‘That isn’t for you to say,’ Jaloux protested. ‘Your seconds — !’
‘Listen to me, damn you!’ the Texian commanded, his face as malevolent as that of his namesake when condemning a sinner to eternal torment. Glancing past the two older Creoles and he continued in a more gentle fashion, ‘What I’m going to say doesn’t include you, M’sieur Dumoulin. You have conducted yourself with courage and credit throughout this whole unfortunate affair. I trust that you will agree that our difficulties have been settled honorably and we no longer have any quarrel?’
‘I do, sir,’ the youngster affirmed, showing a greater enthusiasm than had been in evidence up to that point.
‘You can’t—!’ Pierre-Quint commenced, looking around.
‘The hell he can’t!’ Ole Devil put in, bringing the Creole’s attention back to him. ‘I’ve played along with your damned charade as far as I intend to. We’re engaged in a war with a bloodthirsty, malevolent tyrant and have neither the time nor the need for dissension in our ranks. So I’m warning you that the next man who comes to challenge me, whether it is one of you six or your regiment’s fencing master, he’d better be holding a weapon, because I’ll kill him where he stands without bothering with any formalities.’
Nobody listening to the quietly spoken, yet impassioned words could doubt that the speaker meant exactly what he said. However, Pierre-Quint and Jaloux had an added reason to take notice of the statement. They realized from the way in which the Texian emphasized his reference to their regiment’s fencing master that he had something specific in mind and they drew the correct conclusions over what it might be.
‘He knows, Marcel!’ Jaloux screeched, reaching for Dumoulin’s pistol which he had pushed into his belt when it was handed to him. ‘Defend yourself!’ xix
Chapter Six – He’s Lucky to Be Alive
Standing slightly to one side and behind Ole Devil Hardin, Tommy Okasi realized that something must be done—and quickly—to bring an end to Lieutenant Gerard Jaloux’s stupidly ill-advised behavior before he paid a high price for his folly. The little Oriental also considered that he was the member of his party best suited to bring this about. As their acquaintance had only been brief, he did not know whether Mangrove Hallistead was capable of handling the situation. However, one thing of which he was certain was that his employer was not at that moment in a mood to suffer fools gladly and might respond in a regrettable manner. So Tommy decided to act on his own initiative. Regardless of his small size, he was eminently qualified to do so.
Although Jaloux and Lieutenant Marcel Pierre-Quint had pretended to accept that Tommy was socially eligible as the Texian’s second in the duel, the acquiescence had been to serve their personal purposes. Neither of them had believed the entertainer’s explanation about the little Oriental’s status as a member of the Japanese lower nobility—which was perfectly true—or that he was a competent warrior in his own right.
The Creoles were to be given a very convincing proof of the latter point!
One of the Samurais’ most remarkable and impressive martial accomplishments was laijitsu, the swift withdrawal of the daisho’s longer, tachi sword. xx With the possible exception of an Ancient Roman legionary’s ability to pull out his gladius, it was a feat unequalled by the swordsmen of the Western Hemisphere. In fact, similar heights of rapidity would only be attained when, during the late 1860s, the gunfighters of the Old West began to experiment with the possibilities of drawing and shooting a revolver—which was not much longer than the hilt of a tachi—at speed. xxi Nor would such methods achieve their full potential until the arrival of techniques developed by Twentieth Century combat shooting experts who employed even more compact weapons and sophisticated equipment. xxii
Certainly there was nothing in Texas, or the United States for that matter, in the 1830s which might have served as a warning to Jaloux and Pierre-Quint of what was to come.
Bounding past Ole Devil and Hallistead, giving neither of them an opportunity to take any action, the little Oriental sent his right hand flashing to the hilt of the tachi. Before he alighted in front of the two young dandies, brief as the movement had been, he had already slid the thirty inch long blade from its sheath. Still moving with the same remarkable speed, giving the spiritual cry of ‘Kiai!’ he swung the naked weapon in a smooth and graceful arc towards Jaloux.
Before the amazed Creole could even grasp the butt of the pistol, much less pluck it from his belt, he saw the shining and obviously exceptionally sharp blade approaching as if his right arm was a magnet attracting the steel. Instinctively, if involuntarily, he snatched the threatened limb clear of the danger.
Having prevented Jaloux from drawing the weapon, Tommy treated him, Pierre-Quint, Hallistead and Lieutenant Alphonse Jules Dumoulin to a masterful exhibition of sword handling in the Japanese fashion. He also drove all thoughts of further aggression from Jaloux’s and Pierre-Quint’s heads. Even Ole Devil, who had frequently watched the small Oriental practicing with the tachi, was impressed with the display.
Around and around, back and forth, up and down darted the long and—to Occidental eyes—strangely shaped sword. For all its relatively cumbersome appearance, Tommy made thrusts or cuts with the facility of an epee-de-combat or saber, but without making contact on either of the startled young Creoles. Although neither was as much as scratched in passing, each was all too aware of just how slender a margin they were being missed by. Fortunately for them,
surprise at the transformation of one whom they had previously dismissed as no more than a harmless servant froze them into immobility.
Sometimes the tachi was held in one hand, then it would be grasped in both. Either way, nothing interfered with the rapid flowing motions of the razor sharp blade that had a pliancy and strength all but unequalled in the Western Hemisphere. As the weapon moved, almost of its own volition, Tommy heightened the effect by bobbing, weaving, advancing and retreating, but always judging his distance to a fraction of an inch to avoid injuring the now thoroughly alarmed and frightened young men.
For a good two minutes, although it seemed far longer to the Creoles and the onlookers, the little Oriental kept up the demonstration. Then, giving another yell, he pivoted around. On returning to face the pair, he cut left and upwards, then back at a downwards angle to the right in quick succession. A sliver of material was sliced from the crown of Jaloux’s ‘planter’s’ hat, without it being knocked from his head. A moment later, its knot severed, the sling that had supported Pierre-Quint’s dislocated right shoulder fell away. Gasps of amazement burst from the watchers, Tommy returned the tachi to its sheath as swiftly as he had removed it.
None of the party in the hollow moved or spoke for several seconds!
In fact, Jaloux and Pierre-Quint were incapable of speech or movement!
Even as Hallistead was about to make a comment, the silence was broken from another direction.
Footsteps sounded, drawing the group’s attention to two people who were coming in some haste down the slope. In the lead, his face even more florid than it usually was, strode the commanding officer of the New Orleans’ Wildcats. Colonel Jules Dumoulin was followed by a small, dainty, very shapely and beautiful blonde haired woman. Her poise and carriage lent a somewhat seductive grace to what, on a person less well favored, would have been a plain and serviceable black riding habit. Her expressive features were registering a mixture of concern and alarm.
