by Lou Cameron
Captain Gringo started to say no. Then he called ’Bama over and said, “No offense, ’Bama, but you speak good Spanish and look more like a native than the rest of us, so I’ve got a job for you. Do you think you could find that shot-up Federale camp in the dark?”
’Bama nodded and said, “Sure, Cap’n. But then what?”
“I’d like you to guide this guy and his gang there to salvage their weapons. Once they’re armed they’ll still need an old pro to show ’em how it’s done.”
“How what’s done, and what if the fool Mexicans have already found them Federales we wiped out, Cap’n?”
“That makes two reasons to pick you for the job, ’Bama. If you can arm and lead a guerilla band those double-crossing Spanish agents won’t be expecting, playing it by ear, so much the better. If the deal goes sour, one local Negro running with a bunch of unarmed locals should be easy enough to sell. Let’s see if we can dope out a good sales pitch if you guys run into anybody bigger than you.” He turned to Paco and said, “We stumbled over an opium crop out of town a ways today, amigo. Know who owns it?”
“Si, my Tío Luis, for one. We heard about you guys shooting up those smugglers. None of us were working with the pobrecitos. For why were they putting in there when the crop was nowhere near ready for harvest?”
“They were after something else. Here’s your story. You heard there was a shipwreck or something. So you and your gang are going out to see if there’s any salvage. You don’t know shit about the opium. Why would you be interested in poppies in bloom if you did? Any army guys or lawmen you meet are welcome to come along and see if anything interesting has washed up on the beach, see? Naturally, they’ll tell you they’re on duty and that you kids shouldn’t be out so late at night. They’ll want to get rid of you without making any noise so that they can salvage the wreck without pestering their officers about it.”
Paco grinned in the moonlight and said, “That’s for sure! You are one sneaky devil, Captain Gringo! I am glad we are on the same side. Oh, by the way, a puta who says she is on your side as well is waiting down the slope for to see you. Shall I call her in, now?”
Captain Gringo shook his head and said, “I need a cunt up here right now like I need an even bigger hole in my head. Tell old Lucrecia to just burn a candle in her window or something for now.”
Paco said, “Her name is not Lucrecia. It is Esperanza, I think she said.”
Captain Gringo blinked and asked, “Esperanza? Big Basque brunette?”
“Si, too big for me, or even you, if you know what is good for you. Not bad looking, but Jesus, the fists on that muchacha! You want for us to get rid of her?”
Captain Gringo shook his head and called out, “Esperanza, up here, on the double, you crazy little broad!”
So a few moments later a lady who could hardly qualify as little had joined them on the crest and was kissing Captain Gringo wetly as she tried to crack his ribs. She was dressed in a striped seaman’s jersey and canvas pants. She could still grip pretty good with her vaginal lips as she pressed her pelvis against his. When they came up for air, he laughed and said, “First things first. ’Bama, Paco, get going. If you get to the guns, work back and lay low ’til the shooting starts. Then see who’s shooting at us and act accordingly. If it’s the two-timing general’s guys, hit ’em from the rear and dirty. If it’s the Mexican Army or Rurales, skip it. We don’t want the local population massacred, no matter how we save our own tails.”
’Bama asked, “What if you guys up here cain’t save your own tails, Cap’n?”
“It’s been nice knowing you. You can probably get a job picking bananas or something until the heat blows over and a costal trader blows in. Get going and good luck, guys.”
’Bama and Paco nodded and vanished down the dark slope as Captain Gringo led his old gunrunning girlfriend over to his machine gun emplacement. Some of the others started to follow, until Gaston stopped them, asking them if they were writing a book or something, so Captain Gringo and Esperanza were soon cuddled cozy in his gun pit. But when she put his free hand against her own love pit he said, “Not now, damn it. Is your schooner in the harbor, honey?”
“Hell, no, I walk on water like Jesus. La Nombre Nada is moored out in the roads. I rowed ashore for to see if the coast was clear before I landed the ammo I carry for the Cuba Libre Movement. A Cuban officer who met me on the quay said it was. But when you have been in the business as long as me you develop a sixth sense. I sent my longboat back for to start bringing in the shells. But in the confusion I slipped away for to see what I could see, and a lady who sells other services to soldados put me on to that sweet young boy. So the rest you know, eh? For why can’t we tear off a quickie, here in the shadows? None of your men are watching and I don’t think anyone else will be coming this way for a while.”
“I don’t want to be caught with your pants down if you’re wrong. What was that about shells? Ramos doesn’t have any big guns, honey.”
But she said, “Sure he does. I delivered them myself, last trip. A pair of French 75s. They were a bitch to get ashore, too. You mean you did not know this, Dick?”
“I don’t think I was supposed to. Tell me, did you deliver more than one machine gun, or did anyone you know of?”
She snuggled closer and started fumbling with his fly as she replied, “We landed, oh, four Maxims and a Belgian Browning, trip before last, why?”
“Oh boy! I was cussing Woodbine Arms instead of the prick who got to the crate ahead of me, too! I see it now. They had to issue at least one machine gun to a known machine gun expert. But they didn’t want me smoking anyone up with it, so they removed the arming rod. What a sweet bunch of guys!”
He held Esperanza’s wrist to keep her from jerking him off as he brought her up to date on his misadventures. Esperanza had been in the business longer than he had. So she could add things up pretty good in her head, too. She said, “Ramos lied when he said he had not given those Secret Service men authority for to lead a patrol out and into the trap they’d set up for you, of course. Not even a crazy lawman would have had the balls to pull that on his own. Too many things could have gone wrong if the headquarters staff hadn’t known about it.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. The question is Whether the U.S. Secret Service thought they were working with real Cubans or Spanish double agents.”
“That’s easy. Nobody working for Tio Sam would have trusted any of Butcher Weyler’s hombres. Weyler even has the Spanish nervous and they are trying for to get up the nerve to recall him as governor. His men down there in Progreso must have simply duped your Smith and Nogales.”
“Yeah, meaning Tío Sam is going to be mad as hell at the Cuba Libre Movement, not Spain, when he misses them terribly! Jesus H. Christ, talk about two birds with one stone! Gaston’s right. That Weyler bastard is sneaky!”
She said, “Bueno. Why don’t we just sneak down the dark slope before the moon rises high enough for to light it up and make mad gypsy love in my stateroom as La Nombre Nada sails out of the harbor? They can’t know I suspect anything, no gunboats will be off the bar before the midnight tide and—”
“How many guys can you load aboard La Nombre Nada?” he cut in, adding, “I’ve close to seventy-five or eighty up here.”
She shook her head and said, “Too many, Dick. We could load them in the hold like slaves, once we unlade. But there is not enough food and water to last that many hombres to the next safe port of call and, if there was, do you really want those cabrónes to have the cargo the Cubans paid for? I told my bos’n to take it easy, bringing the stuff ashore by lighter with the tide out. So if we leave right now we can keep them from getting at least a third of it, no?”
“No. There has to be a better way. I can’t abandon my own people. I can’t leave the townspeople to the mercy of a gang who takes orders from a prick called Butcher, and though I’m not a fan of El Presidente Diaz or even Tio Sam these days, I can’t leave them with the impression they�
�ve been double-crossed by the real Cuban rebels.” He thought, and added, “I can’t occupy this hill much longer, either, if Ramos has artillery I didn’t know about. That was real cute. I thought they just wanted us out of the way. But that’s not the plan. They wanted us all up here in a bunch, as an easy artillery target!”
He raised his voice and called Gaston over. The little Frenchman joined them, saying, “Mon Dieu, you children still have your clothes on? What is up, aside from your adorable pants, I mean.”
Captain Gringo filled him in quickly, then said, “You’re the old field artillery man here, Gaston. How long do you think we have?”
Gaston said, “They won’t want to open up until La Nombre Nada finishes unloading and sails merrily away, lest news get about that the private army Cuba is paying for seems to be blowing itself to bits for some reason with ordnance from the same source. But may I suggest we get the fuck off this crest before the moon rises much higher? Once it’s overhead, with all the slopes lit up—”
“Hold the thought,” Captain Gringo cut in, asking Esperanza, “Can you signal your crew aboard your schooner from up here, doll?” and she said, “Sure. How did you suppose smugglers work at night? All I need is a steady light for to move my hand back and forth across.”
That was easy to arrange. So in no time Esperanza was sending the dots and dashes Captain Gringo dictated to her, using nothing more than her big right hand and a little improvised torch. Somewhere out on the water a firefly seemed to be winking back at them. Esperanza said, “Bueno, and I don’t think anyone on the quay saw either signal. If they did, they couldn’t have read it. International Morse is not for serious business. La Nombre Nada will speed up the delivery, put out to sea, then wait for us in another cove I know of to the east. It’s about ten kilometers, though. So if you do not wish for to be spotted in the cold gray dawn …”
Captain Gringo didn’t. So he stood up and called out, “Everyone but the lookouts, front and center. We’ve got to make some other plans, poco tiempo, before this position gets the shit blown out of it!”
*
Down on the quay, the Spanish Secret Agents Scroggs and Royce were pleased at the way the supplies were coming ashore. General Ramos, of course, was up in his quarters with his Spanish mistress and if she wasn’t pleased by the way he was eating her she was at least being a good sport about it. Butcher Weyler paid her well to keep an eye on his other spies, just in case.
Neither Scroggs nor Royce had spotted the screened signal from the schooner moored out in deeper water, of course. But Scroggs had seen Esperanza’s signal and was still bitching about what it could have meant. Royce told him, “It doesn’t matter, look you. They may have a few friends left behind our lines. But what of it? We know all the real fighting men our side was worried about have dug in up there and, ah, one of them seems to be cooking in his fox hole now. As soon as we get rid of that schooner we’ll just wheel out the ordnance and blow the blighters to bits. If any word at all gets out we can blame it on the Mexicans, assure the fools sending all their goodies here instead of Cuba it was all Captain Gringo’s fault, and with any luck at all, get them to send us more supplies and suckers, you see!”
Scroggs said, “I still wish I knew how many supporters they have here in town. These greasers would stab a man in the back for his shoes and we know they’re pissed at us.”
Royce chuckled and said, “With good reason. That was part of the plan, too. Thanks to our own picked men behaving most unprofessionally the professional soldiers the Cubans have been trying to recruit won’t be missed by anyone. Heads up, Esperanza’s bos’n seems to have something to tell us.”
The bos’n did. He came over to report, “The last case of shells is ashore and since your employers paid us in advance, our skipper says it’s time to go home, eh?”
Royce said, “Bueno, don’t let us stop you. But where is Esperanza, anyway? I haven’t seen her for some time.” The bos’n shrugged and replied, “That is because she has been out on La Nombre Nada, lying down in her stateroom for some time. She says she does not feel good. Don’t ask me why. She hits when one asks her if she is having her period.”
Royce chuckled and said some women were like that at certain times. The bos’n got them to sign a receipt, turned away, and a few minutes later he was bobbing out to La Nombre Nada in the longboat cum lighter. Scroggs said, “That’s that. Let’s get out the 75s and load ’em up.”
“Don’t you think we’d better wait until that schooner’s out of sight, Colonel?”
“It’s already hard to see, so they can’t see shit from out there. I want the guns in place before the moon rises high enough to pin them down up there. I’ll round up the gun crews. You just get your guys to work on them shells, old son. We promised the General we’d finish the job early enough for him and his gal to get some sleep after midnight. So let’s get cracking.”
They did. The so-called soldiers of fortune who hadn’t joined Captain Gringo and Gaston on the hill outside of town were fewer in number, but all well trained, by the Spanish Army. So in less than an hour they’d wheeled the two field pieces real soldiers of fortune weren’t supposed to know about out of a certain waterfront warehouse and down to the far end of the paved quay. Scroggs had his five-man gun crews, ten men in all, dig the guns in and sandbag them in the softer beach beyond, with their muzzles trained on the not too distant hilltop. By this time Royce and his own crew of carefully picked cutthroats had hauled enough ammo for a small war up the quay as well.
‘Scroggs stared seaward and said, “I don’t see that schooner, now.” But Royce said, “Give Esperanza more time. The rumble of gunfire carries for miles over water at night. Besides, I have to get my machine guns around to the far side and that may take a while, look you. We’ll have to machete our way well wide of Walker’s observation posts up there, now that the moon’s up. We’d better synchronize our watches. I have nine forty-eight. You?”
“Close enough. I’ll give you until ten-thirty. Then I’ll open fire. We have to finish them off ourselves before those Spanish ships come in at midnight, flying the Cuban rebel colors, if we don’t want the Dons claiming that bonus on Captain Gringo and the frog.”
Royce lowered his voice to whisper, “Watch it. A couple of our so-called privates are Spanish junior officers. One of them was just asking me why we were going to so much trouble instead of just waiting for the big kiss-off.”
Scroggs snorted in disgust and muttered, “Lazy bastards. It’s no wonder Spain needs help with her rebels. But old Weyler’s posted a standing reward on Walker in particular and I ain’t about to share it with no Spanish commodore. So get moving, Royce. We don’t want our reward money slippin’ down the fur side of yon slope once I opens up, hear?”
Royce nodded, called to his own crew, and vanished into the darkness. The next forty-five minutes felt like a million years to Scroggs as he paced up and down behind his gun crews, smoking nervously.
Then at last it was ten-thirty. So Colonel Scroggs tossed his cigar away, put his hands to his ears, and shouted, “Gun number one, fire one for range!”
The French 75 cleared its throat with a flaming roar, and the first shell landed a little short, but sure blew a hell of a hole out of the moonlit hillside. Scroggs shouted, “Elevate three clicks and… fire!” Then, when he saw the top of the hill illuminated from behind in an orange glare, he yelled, “Depress one click and … fire!”
The shell landed smack in the center of Captain Gringo’s hilltop position. So Scroggs laughed and told the other gun crew, “Go thou and do likewise! We got the rascals ranged, boys. So let’s jus’ keep up the good work ’til we run ’em down the fur side into Major Royce’s machine gun nests!”
The twin 75s proceeded to do just that, lobbing shell after shell into the positions atop the hill, unaware they were empty and had been for some time. In the nearby darkness, crouched behind a low but sea-grape-covered dune, Gaston asked Captain Gringo, “Eh bien, have you not heard enough,
Dick? The cochons are burning a lot of ammo we might be able to use, non?”
Captain Gringo nodded and said, “When you’re right you’re right. Esperanza, keep your ass down. The rest of you take your dress on me and don’t anybody get out ahead of the same!”
Then he snicked the Maxim braced across the dune ahead of him off safety and simply opened fire. The results were dramatic as well as gratifying. Scroggs hadn’t thought to post any back-up. So he and his gun crews went down like pins in a bowling alley as Captain Gringo hosed them good. Then he paused, ears ringing, to tell Gaston, “Give me another belt, damn it!”
Gaston reloaded for him, but said, “No more, dammit yourself, my noisy child. If one of those shells took a round with its fuse—”
“Okay, let’s see what we got, then,” Captain Gringo cut in, adding, “You stay here with Esperanza and this Maxim. It’s the only one we got and Royce may be coming back with more if he heard us just now!”
Then he rose, drew his .38, and moved in with Turk and Tex close behind, covering him. He rolled over the first body with his foot. Nothing. When a guy takes eight rounds of .30-30 he seldom has much to say. But Scroggs was still alive, just, and as Captain Gringo stood over him, pointing a thoughtful .38 at his head, Scroggs moaned and said, “Hold it, old son, mayhaps we can still make a deal.”
“From the bottom of the deck again? No thanks, Colonel. I hope you won’t take this personal, but I’ve shot army mules I was fonder of and your razzle dazzle cost me a good man this afternoon.”
“Hold on, Walker! Don’t shoot me! I know something you don’t know!”
“I’m listening.”
“Do I have your word you won’t finish me off, if I tell you a tale that could save your ass?”
“You have my word. But only if it’s good.”
“It is! I can see you’ve grasped what’s been goin’ on hereabouts, so I won’t waste time about that. But tonight’s the night of the big kiss-off, see? The Dons know the rug’s worn thin here in Progreso. So Weyler plans to pull his own people out. Only, afore they go, the ships flying rebel flags mean to bombard the shit outten this whole town!”