Dusty Fog's Civil War 9
Page 18
“Dusty!” she called, parrying her man’s slashing attack which came too fast for her to get home a thrust in reply. “Re—member—family—motto—”
Up went her left hand, tearing off her hat and wig and flinging them into the seaman’s face. Blinded and amazed at seeing the girl apparently tear off all her hair in one pull, the man staggered back. Like a flash Belle lunged and the epée took the man in the forearm causing him to drop his cutlass. He reeled back, struck the edge of the rail and fell to the deck.
Dusty’s right foot rose and stamped down hard on to Stone’s instep in a manner taught to him by Tommy Okasi. Pain knifed into Stone, causing him to yell and relax the pressure he put against Dusty’s saber. With a heave, Dusty thrust the man from him and Belle, turning from spitting the seaman, thrust her epée home. Steel bit through flesh, gliding between the ribs and into Stone’s body. He stiffened, the weapon clattering from his hand as his knees buckled under him and he crumpled to the floor.
“Thanks, Belle!” Dusty said and sprang to the side of the deck.
Down below a battle raged between Red, Billy Jack and the remaining three Yankee sailors. Even as Dusty looked, Billy Jack received a slash across his shoulder, but Red ran one man through. Dusty’s arm whipped back and he hurled his saber downwards like a man throws a dart. Swinging up his cutlass to deliver a coup-de-grace to Billy Jack, the man who wounded the sergeant-major arched his back and fell, Dusty’s thrown saber sunk into his spine.
Seeing what had happened and that the small Texan left himself weaponless, Belle scooped up Stone’s epée by hooking the point of her blade into its hilt.
“Dusty!” she called and flipped the weapon forward. Catching the flying epée, Dusty started down the stairs to the deck and Belle followed him. Finding themselves outnumbered, the last two sailors threw down their cutlasses and surrendered.
“Now maybe somebody’ll tell me what the hell this’s all about,” Red growled.
“Secure the prisoners, Red,” Dusty answered, by way of explanation. “Then start getting the baggage aboard. How is it, Billy Jack?”
“Hurts like hell, but I’ll live,” the gangling non-com replied.
“Happen you don’t,” Dusty said sympathetically, “stay alive until after you help with the prisoners.”
With that, Dusty turned and looked around the poop-deck. Seeing Belle disappearing into the cabin, Dusty ordered the wounded men to go down to the main deck and then bounded after her.
Sixteen – Captain Smee Delivers His Cargo
“You dirty, double-dealing, foul hound!” Belle hissed, her epée resting its needle-tip on Smee’s Adam’s apple and holding him against the day cabin’s wall. “I ought to kill you.”
“It—it wasn’t of my own free will!” Smee gurgled, eyes bulging in terror. “That Yankee ironclad ran alongside me out beyond sight of land. Had me under its guns. I daren’t disobey—”
“So you sold me out!” the girl purred, sounding as menacing as a she-cougar protecting her young.
“No!” Smee howled. “They knew about my cargo. Put a boarding party here and told me if I caused them any trouble, they’d sink me out there without letting anybody get away to tell tales. I had to do what they said.”
“So?”
“Stone, he’s the captain of the ironclad, and his men came aboard. They locked all my crew who weren’t needed to work ship up forward, then stowed the rest away after we dropped anchor. I never told them who you might be. They knew it all along. Stone and his men dressed as civilians. That was why I left the case with the swords out, he couldn’t wear his own, didn’t dare use a revolver, and wanted a weapon handy without causing suspicion. I had to do what they said, I tell you. I just had to.”
“Can you get this ship out of here right away, captain?” Dusty asked from the door.
“Near enough,” Smee agreed.
“Then free your crew and do it.”
“But—” Smee began.
“Mister,” Dusty growled. “You make me one bit more trouble and I’ll kill you where you stand. Then if I can’t have the arms for the Confederacy, I’ll see that nobody else gets them.”
“All I wanted to say was that the ironclad’s still laying off shore,” Smee quavered. “If she sees us coming out, she’ll want to know why.”
“Likely,” Dusty agreed. “In which case, we’ll have to think up some mighty smart answers.”
The officer of the watch aboard the U. S. Sinclair lifted his speaking trumpet as he watched the Lancastrian approach through the gathering darkness.
“Lancastrian ahoy!” he bellowed. “Captain Stone, sir!”
Sweat trickled down Smee’s face as he prepared to reply. The barrel of Dusty’s right-hand Colt bored encouragingly into Smee’s ribs.
“Captain Stone took the rebels,” Smee called back. “He and his men have gone ashore with their prisoners at Brownsville. He said for you to go in and take him aboard.”
Dusty stood at Smee’s side and waited for what seemed like a very long time. Aboard the Sinclair, the first lieutenant gave a satisfied grunt. Maybe something had happened to change Stone’s original plan for returning in the Lancastrian. Possibly his captain wanted a show of force on hand to impress the French garrison. Lifting his speaking trumpet, he pointed it towards the other ship.
“All right. Now get the hell out of here; and the next time we see you in our waters, we’ll ram you—by accident.”
Slowly the two ships parted, the Sinclair heading towards Brownsville and the Lancastrian making due west—until out of sight of the other. Then she swung to the south and the waiting Snow Queen.
“We brought it off, Dusty,” Belle breathed as she came from the captain’s night cabin and looked astern to the tiny lights which marked the departing ironclad.
“So far,” Dusty agreed. “All we have to do now is find the Snow Queen, transfer the arms to her, put Stone and his men ashore, and run the Yankee blockade to land the arms.”
Belle smiled and looked at the small—no, she would never think of Dusty Fog as being small—man whose courage, reasoning power and guts had done so much to make her mission a success.
“I’ve a feeling we’ll do it too.”
Belle’s feeling proved to be correct. After an uneventful voyage, and a narrow escape, the Snow Queen slipped through the waters of Atchafalaya Bay one night and delivered a cargo of arms, bought by Yankee gold, to Morgan City.
About the Author
J.T. Edson was a former British Army dog-handler who wrote more than 130 Western novels, accounting for some 27 million sales in paperback. Edson’s works - produced on a word processor in an Edwardian semi at Melton Mowbray - contain clear, crisp action in the traditions of B-movies and Western television series. What they lack in psychological depth is made up for by at least twelve good fights per volume. Each portrays a vivid, idealized “West That Never Was”, at a pace that rarely slackens.
Dusty Fog’s Civil War
By J. T. Edson
Mississippi Raider
You’re In Command Now, Mr. Fog
The Big Gun
Under the Stars and Bars
The Fastest Gun in Texas
A Matter of Honor
Kill Dusty Fog!
The Devil Gun
The Colt and the Saber
… And More to Come!
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Issuing new and classic fiction from Yesterday and Today!
i Dusty and Mark’s first meeting is recorded in THE YSABEL KID.
ii Snag: Tree which has fallen into the river and is embedded in the bottom.
iii Told in THE PEACEMAKERS.
iv Told in THE COW THIEVES.
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