and I verily believe that, if he had at that fortunatemoment given the word 'board!' we would, niggers and all, have gone overthe bulwarks of that old cow with a rush.
"The captain's plan of action was proof of his courage, and in harmonywith my own ideas of the matter. He said that our force was ample, everygun shotted, and the ports open: that we had the windward gauge of her,and that the proper course was to send a boat in to cut her cable, and,when she drifted down with the current, we would ware ship, lay upalongside, grapple, pass lashings aboard, and send the whole crew on toher deck with a rush. Assaulted in such a man-of-war style, he wasconfident she would become confused, be intimidated, and strike hercolors without firing a gun. The brave and sonorous language with whichour commander set forth his plan of assault captured our imaginations,and we all longed for the moment when the word of command should permitus to swarm up the sides and over the rail of the old bovine.
"Not only was the general plan thus agreed upon, but each man had hispost of duty assigned to him. When the 'cable was cut,' that is, whenthe cow should find herself at liberty and bolt, as she would be sure todo, the Mexican was to lasso her and hang on; Napoleon Bonaparte deNeville and George Washington Marlborough were to lay hold of her hornsto 'port and starboard,' as the captain insisted, while the Michiganman--who was over six feet tall, and leggy--was to fasten with a goodgrip on to her tail, that he might serve not only as a 'drag,' as ourcommander phrased it, but as a pilot as well, 'if she should get toyawing or be suddenly taken aback, and be unable to come up into thewind promptly,' while I was held in reserve to guard againstemergencies. I did not quite like the position assigned to me, and sointimated to the captain, but he said no one could tell how it might gowhen we once got out of the harbor, and, if any of the braces shouldpart, or the sea get high, that he would have to send an additional manto the wheel, 'for,' he added, in a whisper, 'God knows, thatlong-legged Michigan land-lubber could never keep her to a straightcourse if she should once get running with the wind over her quarter,and everything drawing, through that cornfield.' I saw the force of hisreasoning, and felt easier.
"So, without farther delay, we went into action. The old captain stood,knife in hand, ready to cut the lariat which held the cow to the tree,but, before he did so, he hailed, '_All ready to cut cables!_'
"'Fo' de lawd, cap'in!' yelled Napoleon de Neville, 'what is dis yerenigger gwine to do if de udder nigger lets go?'
"'Go way dar, nigger!' retorted George Washington Marlborough; 'what youtakes dis nigger for if you tinks I's gwine to let go dis ole blackcow?'
"'I'll give a silver dollar to the nigger that holds on the longest,' Iyelled.
"'Well answered, mate,' sang out the old captain. '_All ready to cutcables. Cut she is!_'
"The cow gave a bellow like the roar of a lion, and made a rush withlowered horns at the captain. Now, this was not the course laid down onhis chart for her to take; and he and the rest of us were struck allaback, as he afterwards expressed it; but he met the emergency withspirit. He broke his big, Spanish-oak stick on the nose of the brute,and then the old mariner rolled in the dust.
"'Lay aboard of her, men!' shouted the old hero, in a voice like afog-horn, flourishing the fragments of his stick. 'Lay aboard of the oldcuss, I say! Cast your grapplings, Greaser! Seize her helm, some ofye, and throw it hard over to port!'
"LAY ABOARD OF THE OLD CUSS!"]
"These orders were obeyed with alacrity. Not a man flinched. The loop ofthe lasso settled over the polished horns to the roots, and Don Juan SanDiego set it tight with a twang. Napoleon Bonaparte and GeorgeWashington rushed headlong upon her and hung to horns and ears; whilethe man from Michigan fastened a grip on her lifted tail, as she torepast him, which straightened him out like a lathe. As to myself, I couldonly stand and gaze with solicitude upon the terrific contest, on theissue of which depended not only the chances of my speculation, but eventhe preservation of my self-esteem.
"The combat deepened and enlarged itself, as it were. A bull-dog, whowas wandering along the road in search of adventure, and two foxhoundsjoined in the fight. The calf, the only one of the seven thousand fivehundred and twenty-three I was ever destined to behold, broke from itspen and ran bellowing to its mother. The dogs bayed, the niggers yelled,the Mexican swore in his delightful tongue; and the stutteringMichigander remained silent, simply from his inability to pronounce theprofanity of his feelings.
"Suddenly the cow, which had been slowly working her way, with herseveral attachments clinging to her, toward the road which ran along thefront of the field, turned and started pell-mell toward the river, whichflowed wide and deep, through the rushes, at the rear of it. She leftthe path and took to the corn, and through the mass of growing stalksshe swept like a whirlwind. Onward she came. I anticipated the awfulcatastrophe, and stood riveted to the spot. The old captain still sat inthe gravel, where the cow had bowled him, his hand grasping theshattered cane, and his game leg extended. He too foresaw theinevitable. Through the corn came the cow, like a black Saturn attendedby her satellites. But her career was too terrific for these to hold totheir connection. The laws of the universe forbade it. NapoleonBonaparte de Neville lost his hold as she crashed into the sorghumpatch. George Washington Marlborough tripped over an irrigation ditch,and soared away at a tangent, like a sputtering remnant of a burnt-outworld. Don Juan San Diego went the wrong side of a mulberry tree, andthe lasso parted with a snap. He never stopped until his momentumcarried him through the slats of the neighboring cow-pen. Only thelong-legged Michigander kept his hold, and he looked like a pair ofextended scissors. I stood aghast at the impending ruin of my hopes,with my lower jaw dropped. The captain alone retained his presence ofmind. As the black unit of my last Texan speculation shot by him, withMichigan, elongated like a peninsula, fastened to her tail, he rolled upto his knees and roared:--
"'_Starboard your helm, boy!_ _Luff her up! Luff her up, for the loveof God, or the colonel is busted!_'
"It is doubtful if the Michigan man ever heard the stentorian call ofthe captain, for sound travels only thirteen hundred feet to the second,and the cow was certainly going considerably faster than that; and,besides, he was himself engaged, with a terrific earnestness, in a vaineffort to extricate a word out of his throat, which stuck like a wad ina smutty gun--a word of undoubted Saxon origin and of expressive force,and which has saved more blood-vessels from bursting than the lancet ofthe phlebotomist, for as he streamed past there was left floating uponthe air a long string of d's, thus: d----d----d--d--d--d-d-d...!
"No one who did not hear them could ever conceive of the awfulsputtering, hissing sound that they caused in the atmosphere as theycame out of the mouth of the mad and stuttering Michigander; and as heand the cow bored a hole through the reeds on the bank of the river,and, hitting a cypress stump, ricochetted into the water, that fierystring of d's, still hot and sputtering, reached half across the field.
"LUFF HER UP! LUFF HER UP!"]
"The splash of the two as they struck the water brought the old captainto his feet, and, in spite of his rheumatic leg, he rushed toward theriver, crying:--
"'_Man overboard! Man overboard! Gone clean over the forechains!Life-floats to port and starboard!_'
"With such a frightful catastrophe, gentlemen, the remembrance of whichactually makes me nervous, my last speculation in Texas ended. Goingover the whole matter with the captain that evening,--a process whichtook us well into the night,--it was our united opinion that thespeculation was a failure. This conviction was mutual and profound. Thecow was not only gone, but she had shown such disinclination to bedomesticated, and such a misapprehension of the true purpose of life,that the prospect was truly disheartening.
"'Why, damn it, colonel,' said the captain, 'we've no evidence that theold cow wanted to be milked!'
"To this discouraging conclusion of the captain's I was compelled togive a sorrowful assent. I recognized that my speculation was inarrears, as it were, and that it would never figure up a profit.
"Therefore, next day I divided my few personal effects between thecaptain and the noble men who had risked their lives for an idea; whohad seen the tragedy played out and the curtain rung down to my lastappearance, as it were. And, with the few dollars which alone remainedof the fortune which I took with me to Texas, I mounted my horse andstarted northward, to join that noble army of martyrs, that brotherhoodof sufferers, that fraternity of the busted, whose members are legion,and who are known as '_Ex-Texans_.'"
The hilarity of the camp that evening under the foot-hills will never beforgotten by those of us who composed the happy number, and wholistened with streaming eyes and aching sides to the narrative of
The Busted Ex-Texan, and Other Stories Page 5