The Floating Outfit 34: To Arms! To Arms! In Dixie! (A Floating Outfit Western)

by J. T. Edson

  ‘We’re sure fooling Mr. le Verne, Jim,’ Belle remarked. ‘Was it my hands?’

  ‘Partly,’ the clerk admitted. ‘Mainly, though, it’s part of my duties to separate those who are from those who are merely pretending to be.’

  ‘Old Hervey knows every gambler, tinhorn, thief and conjuneero [12] on the Big Muddy,’ Bludso praised.

  ‘Not every one,’ the clerk protested good-naturedly.

  On an impulse, Belle opened her vanity bag. She had placed Darren’s sketch into it before leaving the hotel, in the hope that she might see and recognize the gambler. Taking the sketch out, she passed it to the clerk.

  ‘Is this one of those you know?’

  ‘His name’s Brunel,’ le Verne stated. ‘Is there anything wrong with him?’

  ‘Should there be?’ Belle countered.

  ‘I’ve never seen him before today,’ the clerk replied. ‘But he came this afternoon with a letter from a Mr. Gaylorne, cancelling a booking for a stateroom. Brunel said that he would take it. I agreed. After all, it’s not an uncommon thing to happen.’

  ‘Looks like he’s coming instead of that O’Reilly bucko, Belle,’ Bludso remarked.

  ‘It does,’ the girl agreed.

  ‘I won’t ask you what this is all about, Miss Winslow,’ le Verne said soberly. ‘But I feel I’m entitled to know if this man, or the consignment, will in any way endanger the safety of the Prairie Belle?’

  ‘There’s no reason that it should,’ Belle replied. ‘It’s just that my organization is very interested in learning where the consignment is going and who receives it.’

  ‘I see,’ le Verne answered. ‘Now, with regards to your accommodation—’

  ‘Can you reserve the man’s berth, please?’ Belle requested. ‘I’ll have a male companion travelling with me.’

  ‘Certainly, I’ll see to it. But how about you? There might not be a lady’s vacancy.’

  ‘I could travel as a deck-passenger,’ Belle suggested. ‘That way, I could keep a closer watch on the consignment.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ the clerk objected. ‘Once it’s in the hold, there’ll be no way of getting it out before we unload at New Orleans. On top of which, travelling as a deck-passenger isn’t suitable for a lady.’

  ‘It sure as hell isn’t,’ Bludso confirmed thoughtfully.

  ‘That’s the least of my worries,’ Belle smiled. ‘Very few of my kinfolks would regard my line of work as being suitable for a lady.’

  ‘We might be able to accommodate you until a stateroom is available,’ le Verne offered. ‘There’ll be one after Helena.’

  ‘I couldn’t spend much time on the main deck, if I’m travelling as a stateroom passenger,’ Belle pointed out. ‘That would draw too much attention to me.’

  Neither of the men could dispute Belle’s point. The ‘deck-passengers’ travelled on the main deck, taking whatever accommodation they could devise, as being the cheapest fare. There was no mingling socially between them and the occupants of the boiler deck’s staterooms.

  ‘Couldn’t the man—’ le Verne began.

  ‘Brunel would recognize him,’ Belle interrupted. ‘That’s why he’s coming, to keep attention from me. Anyway, he wouldn’t look the part as a deck-passenger.’

  ‘There’s one way out,’ Bludso remarked hesitantly. ‘Happen you’re willing to chance it, that is.’

  ‘What would it be?’ the girl asked.

  ‘Travel down dressed like you are now—and use my cabin.’

  ‘You’ve only got the one bunk in there, Jim,’ le Verne pointed out.

  ‘I can always bed down by the engines,’ Bludso countered.

  ‘Would it be out of the ordinary if I did it?’ Belle inquired.

  ‘Not especially, except for Jim bedding down by the engines,’ le Verne answered. ‘Officers in single cabins are allowed to have their wives along. Some of them even bring their wives.’

  ‘I’ll bet it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done it, Jim,’ Belle commented with a smile.

  ‘I’m not married,’ the engineer protested and looked embarrassed.

  ‘Which doesn’t answer my question,’ Belle remarked. ‘Seriously though, I think it’s a good idea. If I’m travelling as your “wife”, Jim, I’ll be able to come and go with greater freedom than either a deck- or a stateroom passenger.’

  ‘There would still be the matter of where you both sleep,’ le Verne warned.

  ‘We’ll face up to that problem when the time comes,’ Belle declared. ‘Come on, Jim. We’re keeping Mr. le Verne from his work.’

  ‘You’d best tell Captain Yancy what’s happening, Jim,’ the clerk advised as his visitors turned to depart.

  ‘I’ll do just that,’ Bludso promised.

  Leaving the office, Belle and Bludso passed through the hustle and bustle of the Gentlemen’s and Ladies’ Cabins. Already passengers were coming aboard and being escorted to their accommodation. Stewards and stewardesses were making everything ready for the journey. So there was considerable coming and going on all sides. When the girl and the engineer reached it, the Texas deck—on which the officers lived—seemed almost peaceful. The captain, both mates, the pilots and their cubs and Jim’s trio of junior engineers were all attending to their duties. Passengers were discouraged from visiting the Texas deck in dock, and none were to be seen.

  Belle suggested that it might be tactful if they reported to the captain before Bludso showed her to his quarters. Agreeing that to do so would be sound diplomacy, the engineer said that they would need to go up to the pilothouse.

  Towering high in the air, the square, multi-windowed pilothouse was positively tranquil after the hurly-burly of the main- and boiler-decks. It was one area of a riverboat that had always fascinated Belle; although not one in which she had ever been encouraged to linger when paying a visit. With the great wheel—half of its twelve feet diameter disappearing into the Texas deck below—bells and bell-ropes, the whistle’s cord and a speaking tube which connected with the engine-room, it was regarded as being male domain.

  Belle had liked what she had seen of the tall, lean, smartly dressed Captain Yancy when he had joined them on the dock after the fight. There could not have been a greater contrast than between the master of the Prairie Belle and the ruffianly Captain Bascoll. Yancy had been ready to back his engineer to the hilt and had shown that he would stand no nonsense.

  Eyeing Belle in a coldly speculative manner, Yancy was nevertheless polite when Bludso introduced her as ‘Miss Winslow’. On being asked for a few words in private, the captain had suggested that they should go along the deck. The pilothouse was occupied. On the long bench at its rear, the pilots were discussing conditions farther down the river with two of their opposite numbers from a boat which had just come up.

  ‘If you wish to do so, I won’t raise any objections to you sharing Mr. Bludso’s cabin,’ Yancy declared, after he had heard Belle’s reason for making the request and had ascertained that Brunel’s presence would not endanger his boat and passengers. ‘But I’m afraid that I won’t be able to offer you a place at my table.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Belle smiled. ‘People would be suspicious if you did.’

  While the captain of a riverboat might allow his officers to travel in company with women other than their wives, he could not acknowledge the fact openly. So, although he guessed that Belle was of a social status that might expect the hospitality of his table, he had known that he could not give it.

  ‘One thing more, Miss Winslow,’ Yancy remarked. ‘If there should be the slightest hint of danger to the Belle—’

  ‘I’ll tell you straight away,’ the girl assured him. ‘But I don’t think there will be.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ Yancy said. ‘If I did, I wouldn’t have given you permission to go ahead.’

  Returning to the Texas deck, Bludso opened the door of his cabin and let Belle precede him into it. She looked around at what would be her base of operations for the ne
xt few days. There was a homely, yet masculine air about the room. Its furnishings were comfortable and adequate to the needs of a man like Bludso. There was a locker, a washstand, a small writing-table and chair, a chest and a narrow bunk.

  ‘What’s that?’ Belle inquired, indicating a feminine hatbox in the center of the bunk.

  ‘A hat I’ve bought for that lil red-headed gal in Helena,’ Bludso explained, walked forward. ‘Take a look and tell me if it’ll go with her hair.’

  ‘How gallant!’ Belle sniffed, following on his heels. ‘Only a bachelor would dare to ask his “wife’s” opinion about a hat he’s bought for a lady-friend.’

  Something at the extreme lower edge of the girl’s range of vision attracted her attention. It was a small splash of bright color, contrasting vividly with the bare white planks of the deck. While she was speaking, she lowered her gaze to take a closer look. The ends of two blue satin ribbons lay on the floor, extending a little way from beneath the bunk.

  ‘My father ’n’ grand-pappy both were lifelong bachelors and they allus taught me to stay the same,’ Bludso grinned. Placing the base of the box on the palm of his left hand, he started to lift the lid with his right in a perfect parody of a snooty milliner exposing her latest Parisian creation. ‘This hat—’

  An alarm signal blasted its ways through Belle’s entire being!

  Jumping forward, the girl thrust with the tip of her parasol to knock the box from Bludso’s palm. It flew from beneath the lid, landing on the center of the bunk and tipping sideways. Bludso’s startled exclamation almost drowned a sudden, sharp, violent hissing which was emanating from inside the box.

  Almost, but not quite!

  Hearing the sound, Belle and Bludso had had a fair notion of what might be making it even before the box emitted its contents. That still did not prevent its appearance from handing them one hell of a surprise and shock.

  Something that looked like a four feet length of rope, as thick as a man’s wrist, slid on to the bunk. Except that no piece of rope had ever been plaited with dull brownish, wrinkled skin, sporting an evil spade-shaped head, and endowed with the power to writhe and move under its own volition.

  Instead of sliding to the deck, the big Eastern cottonmouth went into its fighting coil on the bed. Vibrating its tail like a rattlesnake, only without the accompanying warning sound, it threw back its head. Opening its mouth to show off the long, curved, poison-dripping fangs and darting, restless, forked tongue, it also exposed the snow-white interior which gave its species their name. All in all, it made a frightening sight as it poised ready to attack.

  Involuntarily, Belle and Bludso stepped away from the bunk. Their movements brought the furious snake’s attention to them. Fortunately, neither was incapacitated by shock to such an extent that they were unable to respond.

  As swiftly as Bludso sent his right hand flying towards the Ames knife, Belle moved even faster. Her left hand closed on and tugged sharply at the body of the parasol. Separating from the lower half, the handle displayed its clandestine second function.

  Swinging her right hand outwards horizontally, Belle reversed its direction with a snapping motion of the wrist. Attached to a short steel rod, a small ball of the same metal slid into view. These were followed by a twelve-inch length of powerful coil spring, into which they had been telescoped within the handle. Whipping through the air in an arc, the spring propelled the ball faster than the human eye could follow. Emitting a sickening ‘thwack!’, the ball impacted against the cottonmouth’s head. With its deadly skull reduced to a harmless bloody pulp, the snake’s body was hurled across the bunk to strike against the cabin’s wall.

  Shuddering violently, Belle spun on her heel to avoid watching the death throes of the hideous creature. At her side, Bludso was giving off a flow of invective that was violently profane in content, but understandable under the circumstances. He, or Belle, had been very, very, close to death.

  Several seconds went by before either of them regained his, or her, composure. Yet neither spoke until Belle had retrieved and reassembled her parasol and Bludso had returned the knife to its sheath.

  ‘No,’ Belle finally said, still not looking at the bunk. ‘I don’t think it would go with her hair.’

  ‘This one might,’ Bludso drawled, bending and drawing the hat—the ribbons of which had probably saved his life—from under the bunk. ‘Only somebody’s changed it since I fetched it on board.’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d done it as a joke,’ Belle admitted.

  ‘Riled up like it was, that cottonmouth would’ve killed whoever was nearest to it when it come out of the box.’ Bludso said quietly. ‘Thing being, Belle, are they after you, or me?’

  ‘You, I’d say,’ Belle replied. ‘They couldn’t know that I’d be coming here with you, even if they suspected me.’

  ‘You’re right on that,’ Bludso growled. ‘Let me take this blasted thing and heave it into the river. Then we’ll go and start asking folks how it got in here.’

  Eleven – The Coal Torpedo

  ‘I suppose you’re happy now you’ve got the Stream Queen behind us,’ Belle Boyd remarked to Jim Bludso, as they stood at the rear of the engineering section of the Prairie Belle’s main deck and looked back along the river.

  ‘Shucks, no,’ the engineer replied. ‘It was only a matter of time before we passed her. That hogged-up scow’s no match for the Belle. She might have pulled out Friday evening, but I knew we’d be leaving her behind before we hit the Baton Royale Glide.’

  ‘Do you think that they left the cottonmouth in your cabin, Jim?’ Belle inquired, watching the lights and red glow from the Stream Queen’s twin high, flaring-topped, smoke- and sparks-vomiting smoke-stacks.

  ‘I wouldn’t put anything past Bascoll, or Tyrone,’ Bludso growled. ‘Except that I don’t know how they managed to do it, or have it done.’

  On being informed of the attempted murder, Captain Yancy had insisted that the police be notified. He knew the temper of his engineer and had had no desire for Bludso to commence an independent, unofficial inquiry; especially as the most obvious suspects had appeared to be Bascoll and Tyrone.

  Despite all their efforts, the police had not been able to discover who had placed the snake in Bludso’s cabin. On being questioned, Bascoll and Tyrone had presented unshakable alibis. The possibility of them hiring another person to make the attempt had not been overlooked, but could not be proven.

  There had been a considerable number of people coming and going on the Prairie Belle, due to the preparations for departure. With so many strangers aboard, none of the crew had noticed any suspicious person or persons lurking around. The simple lock on Bludso’s door could have been picked easily and, with all the officers fully engaged by their various duties, the would-be killer had had ample opportunity to do it. Once in the cabin, he had probably selected the hatbox as the most suitable hiding place for the cottonmouth snake, the Police had concluded that he had hoped Bludso would not open the box until the Prairie Belle was on its way downriver.

  Although the police had been aware that Bascoll could have organized the attempt, they had known that proving it would be difficult. So, wishing to avert the possibility of open warfare between the two boats, they had allowed the Stream Queen to leave at its scheduled time of departure on Friday night.

  Much as Belle would have liked to take an active part in the investigation, she had had her own duties to perform. So she had left it in the hands of the police. Returning to the small hotel opposite Molloy’s warehouse, she had compared notes with Darren on their activities. She had found that her efforts in securing a berth for him had been needless. Showing more initiative than Belle would have credited him with possessing. Stenhouse had already booked accommodation for all of them. Learning that Stenhouse would be going along had not filled her with delight. However, she could hardly have blamed him for arranging their transportation. Having been uncertain whether Bludso would be aboard the Prairie Belle, she had not m
entioned her hopes in that direction when discussing plans with Stenhouse.

  Working separately, Belle and Darren had continued to keep the consignment under observation. They had never let it out of their sight until it was delivered to the docks and disappeared into the Prairie Belle’s hold. While the young man had kept watch, to guard against a last-minute change of destination, Belle had collected her belongings from the hotel and transferred them to Bludso’s cabin. She had not known whether Stenhouse would approve, but was not worried on that score. Travelling as the engineer’s ‘wife’ would allow her greater freedom than if she was occupying the stateroom. With her property aboard, she had relieved Darren so that he could collect his.

  That evening, in a carefully arranged, casual-seeming meeting, Darren had given Belle the latest developments. Clearly Stenhouse had been busy and the results of his enterprise had not been entirely worthless. Calling upon Captain O’Shea in his official capacity, he had obtained information concerning the investigation into the Bijou Theater’s incident. Apparently the police had given little credence to Belle’s anonymous letter, for they had been making no special efforts to locate and arrest Mephisto. They had, however, collected the dead man’s property from the Traveler’s Hotel and contacted the nearest Pinkerton’s field office to ask if ‘Sheriff’ had been a member of the National Detective Agency. Belle had been willing to bet that the answer would be negative.

  One puzzling factor had emerged from Stenhouse’s visit to O’Shea. He had been allowed to examine O’Reilly’s effects. The ‘coal torpedoes’ were no longer in the carpetbag.

  That had been a source of some speculation between Belle and Darren. Obviously, O’Reilly’s companions had removed the ‘torpedoes’ rather than allow them to fall into the hands of the police. Also, the organization would not want to lose the weapons if they were to serve as models for future missiles.

  Brunel had come on board shortly before the boat’s departure. For all the interest he had displayed in the consignment, he might have been nothing more than a professional gambler making a trip. At no time had he gone ashore during the journey. Nor had he displayed more than a casual interest in any other passenger. While he had introduced himself to Darren, using the ‘mistake’ he had made at the hotel as his excuse, he had not attempted to develop a closer acquaintance with the view to obtaining information.