Mississippi Raider
Page 18
However, as the pair felt sure that no other Confederate supporters had been assigned to perform a similar mission to their own, they had assumed nothing more than that armed thieves were responsible for the killing. With that in mind, they had left their horses with the four already standing hitched to rings in the walls surrounding the property and advanced on foot. Having no doubt that they would meet resistance when putting in their appearance, sharing what they guessed from the corpses was a reluctance on the part of the men responsible to be a realization that the use of firearms could attract unwanted attention and investigation, they had left their revolvers holstered and intended to rely on cold steel for their protection.
Having heard the conversation that took place and noticing the obviously Northern accents of the speakers, Stone finding the reference to the very adverse effect upon Texas of whatever was planned for using the guns of especial interest, he and Belle knew that they were not up against other supporters of the Southern cause regardless of the attire worn by the four men. However, Belle in particular found the sight of Frederick Jervis killing the inventor something of a relief, as his death removed the necessity for her—and she had been determined that it was she, not the honorable soldier she knew the Texan to be, who must carry out what was going to be a cold-blooded execution—to do so. In spite of this, she could not prevent herself from announcing their presence by making the statement that came as a shock to the men in the room.
“Rebs!” Anthony Whitehead screeched rather than yelled, staring in an alarm that was duplicated by his companions at the two figures that came through the door. Stone’s uniform was evidence of where his loyalties lay in the War Between the States. However, although offering no such indication of her allegiance, Belle’s snugly fitting attire established her sex beyond a doubt, and like her reference to “Yankee scum,” her accent was sufficient to prove that she, too, was a Southern supporter. “Kill them!”
The same idea had already struck the other three “liberals.” Thinking and moving more quickly than Terence Higgins, for all his insistence upon wearing the stripes of a sergeant—because he considered himself to be their leader on account of having thought up the scheme that had brought them to Burke’s residence—selecting the beautiful slenderly curvaceous girl on the assumption that she would be the least dangerous of the intruders, Frederick Jones and Peter Lowe darted toward her. Arriving at the same conclusion, Whitehead followed them with an equal alacrity. Much to his perturbation, the tallest of the quartet found himself left to face the grim-featured Confederate officer. He possessed some skill at fencing, but soon discovered he was up against an opponent with even greater skill.
Finding herself being approached by three men armed with swords, Belle was able to draw some consolation from the room having been made large enough for use during the frequently well-attended functions given by the previous owners. Having no such desire for company, especially when it would be at his own expense, Burke had had the furnishings reduced to the small table with just two chairs at which he took his meals in the center, a settee, and a few other small items placed around the walls. This gave her the room she required to maneuver, and she began to take advantage of it. What was more, the skill she possessed was sufficient to prevent her from becoming the easy victim her attackers believed would prove the case. It quickly became apparent that none of them even came close to matching her ability.
Far from finding the girl the easy prey they had envisaged, the three “liberals” soon discovered that they were in contention against an extremely competent antagonist. Not only did the blade of the epee de combat fend off their attempt at striking her, aided by the trio’s getting into one another’s way in their eagerness to kill her, she soon found an opportunity to put to use part of the instruction she had received from Captain Anatol de-Farge in unfair fighting.
Deftly snapping up her left leg while beating away the opposing blades, despite its arriving with much less force than she would have been able to apply under less pressing conditions, the savate kick that the girl delivered to Lowe’s crotch was sufficient to send him staggering back a few steps, registering pain without totally incapacitating him. A moment later, while knocking aside Whitehead’s blade with the side of her left arm, there was none of the attempts to avoid striking a mortal blow that had been employed during the fight in her sitting room on the night her parents died and her home was burned to the ground. Now, knowing it to be a matter of life or death, she fought with savage and deadly intent. This showed as she went into a lunge that sent her own point into Jervis’s left beast. Although this was a fatal stroke, she realized she would not be able to withdraw the weapon in time to prevent Whitehead’s resuming the deflected attack.
Even as Belle was starting to pull free the epee de combat, she received succor. Delivering a close-to-classic “cut at head” attack that almost severed all the way through its recipient’s neck, Stone saw her deadly predicament. Allowing the nearly decapitated body of Higgins to fall aside without giving it a second glance, knowing no further effort need be expended in that direction, he darted toward the girl and her attacker. Even as he was sending the blade of his saber into Whitehead’s back so its point inflicted a mortal wound, Lowe returned to the fray.
Although starting from so far away that only the tip made contact, the Yankee’s sword tore a gash down the right side of the Texan’s cheek. An instant later, still not showing the slightest hesitation in her response or seeking to soften its effect, she executed a downward “cut at head” and the last of the quartet met his end. With Belle’s right hand turned in half pronation, the razor-sharp blade of the epee de combat struck the top of Lowe’s skull. Such was the excellent quality of the steel that it bit through hair and bone to reach the brain. Killed outright, he crumpled to the floor and lay without movement. For a moment, with a shudder shaking Belle’s slender frame and perspiration flowing freely down her face, the two victors of the fight stood looking about them to ensure there would be no further need for defense against the quartet.
“We have to get you to Doctor Conried so he can attend to your wound, Stone!” the girl stated, regaining her composure as she looked at the bleeding gash running down her companion’s right cheek.
“Not until we’ve done what we came here for,” the Texan answered, his voice giving an indication of the pain he was suffering as he clasped the napkin that Burke had used during the evening meal. “I hope we can burn this place down so completely that there’s nothing to suggest we Southrons killed him.”
~*~
“This has to be stitched, Captain Hart,” Doctor Fritz Conried declared, having examined the injury sustained by the Texan in the light of the small lantern that was supplying the illumination he had claimed was safe provided they listened for anybody who might be approaching. “The cut did not go all the way through your cheek, but it very nearly has and there is no other way I can treat it.”
A search of Christopher Burke’s house by Belle Boyd and her companion, who had continued to try to staunch the blood from the wound while doing so, had provided them with the means to accomplish their purpose. There had been sufficient kerosene in one portion of the cellar to ensure a conflagration that would cause the property to be burned to the ground as totally as Baton Roy ale Manor had been on the night her parents were murdered. Furthermore, her skill at picking locks had given them access to the section in which the weapons, a supply of ammunition, powder, and a supply of lead for reloading the spent cases and machinery were stored.
Because Stone was in considerable pain and less than steady on his feet as the result of the loss of blood, the work of arson had been by the girl. She had done so with such effect that, as they rode away leading the four horses upon which the quartet of “liberals” had arrived and were to be released when clear of the property, they knew there was no way the lire could be halted before it completed the destruction they desired. This had been even more certain when they heard the explosion caused whe
n the flames reached the gunpowder. In fact, when Conried reported the aftermath of the affair some time later, they discovered that not a trace of their activities remained and the general consensus of opinion among those who investigated the destruction of the property was that it came about due to an accidental fire. The doctor had concluded by saying that he believed the loss of the weapon had been something of a relief to those members of the Union Army who would have had to take time and spend money checking its potential as an addition to their cause’s already extensive weaponry.
In spite of the pain he was enduring even after the flow of blood was staunched by its congealment, Stone had ridden with Belle back to the cabin where Sergeant Waggles Harrison and Conried were waiting. For all his eagerness to be given a verbal report of what had happened, the doctor had insisted upon attending to the wound while this was given by the girl. The removal of the napkin, which was now stiffened with the congealed blood, had been the cause of more suffering for the Captain. However, he and the others realized there would be more to come as a result of the treatment that it was necessary to have performed.
“Go to it, Doc!” Stone authorized through gritted teeth.
“It isn’t that easy,” Conried warned. “I’ve got sutures and needles in my bag, but anesthetic of all kinds is in such short supply to us civilian practitioners that, as I didn’t anticipate any would be needed, I daren’t chance bringing along any of my small supply. I’m sorry, but—!”
“You weren’t to know,” Stone stated. “So I’ll just have to do without.”
“If it was only that easy!” the doctor sighed. “You’re going to be hurt more than a little by the stitching, and we’ve no way of reducing the pain.”
“We’ve the opiate in the whiskey,” Belle pointed out.
“That would do,” Conried admitted, but his voice was redolent of misgivings. “But, from what you told me of its effects and taking Captain Hart’s condition into account, it might render him unconscious for hours.”
“And we don’t have hours to spare, Belle,” the Captain asserted. “Likely they’ll be hunting around for whoever started the fire, and we all have to be long gone before they do. So do you best get her done, Doc. Waggles can hold me still.”
“I doubt whether he, or any other man, could do it, the suffering you’ll be put through,” Conried denied, and his gaze went to Belle. “But, from what I know about the stubborn sense of masculine pride I’m sure you’ll have, Captain Hart, a woman might be able to let you endure it.”
“Then a woman is going to do the holding,” the girl declared, and although her upbringing at the hands of her mother and Auntie Mattie Jonias had no liking for the decision she had made, she started to remove her shirt to leave her bare to the waist. Taking the wounded officer’s hands in her own and positioning herself so that her bare breasts would be within his range of vision, she went on, “And you’re going to know for certain that it is a woman holding you, Stone.”
None of the men realized that they were witnessing another example of the lengths to which Belle Boyd would go in meeting the needs of an assignment.
When the girl became known as the Rebel Spy, nobody who knew the way she had acquired the fame that brought this about would claim the sobriquet was undeserved.
Part Four – The Decision
“Hello, Professor ’Zac,” Belle Boyd said as the elderly man who was the sole occupant of the room she had entered started to rise from the desk at which he was working. Gesturing to the sheets of paper lying before him, she continued, “Is this something of interest?”
“It could be, my dear,” replied Wladystaw Smreczak, the difficulty most people who did not share his Polish birthright found in trying to pronounce his full name having resulted in the abbreviation used by the girl. Waving one sheet of the papers, he elaborated, “This is a message in code from a Yankee spy which our Lady has received, and I’m trying to decipher it.”
Although Captain Stone Hart had clearly been suffering through the journey, Belle and the Texans had experienced no difficulty in returning to Confederate-held territory after having parted company with Doctor Fritz Conried. Accompanying her to Arlington in accordance with the instructions received from Rose Greenhow before setting off on the mission, by the kind of coincidence no author would dare use in a work of fiction, Stone had his injury examined by her friend Phillipe Front de Boeuf, who was now a captain and surgeon for the garrison in the town. Despite saying the suturing of the gash had been performed in an excellent fashion and it was healing correctly, Front de Boeuf had warned that it would nevertheless leave a livid white scar down the otherwise tanned right cheek, which would mar the Texan’s handsome features permanently.
After assuring Belle that they did not hold her responsible for what had happened, Stone and Sergeant Harrison were thanked by Rose on behalf of the General Staff for their participation. Warned no mention of the mission could be put on their military records for obvious reasons, they had set off to rejoin their regiment, wherein they continued to serve with distinction until the cessation of hostilities caused them to take up another career. However, before leaving, Stone had asked Rose and Belle to do all they could to find out the nature of the scheme that could threaten the welfare of Texas. Despite all their organization could do, they failed, and it was not until a few years later that the truth became known. xvii
Much to the girl’s relief, on hearing what had taken place during the mission, her aunt had stated approval with everything that had taken place. Rose had said that, while it was necessary to prevent the potentially lethal weapon from reaching the Union Army, she was pleased the execution of Christopher Burke had not needed to be carried out by her niece. She had also declared that she would ensure that no blame was placed on the party for failing to bring away either of the devices or the plans for their manufacture.
When told about the gun later, being something of an expert on the subject, Captain Alexandre Dartagnan had said its not being available for reproduction by the South would be of no great disadvantage. He had duplicated the assumption by Stone Hart regarding the malfunctions that had occurred and claimed overcoming the problem would cost much time and money better employed for other purposes. On the other hand, he had asserted that some other inventor would eventually come up with a similar solution to producing a gun that would operate without the need of manual cranking and the means to stop the jamming due to friction. Belle had concurred with his wish that such a development would not come into the hands of the North, and they both lived long enough to see the first types of genuine machine guns designed by Hiram Percy Maxim and John Moses Browning, among others, brought into service around the world.
Having been told by Rose to rest, since there could be another assignment taking her into Union territory forthcoming, Belle had been only too willing to do this; she was tired as a result of the one she had just successfully accomplished. Having found herself at a loose end and being on friendly terms with Professor ’Zac, hearing he had arrived from Richmond in response to a summons from her aunt, she had decided to drop by and see him. Always willing to take an interest in everything that might improve her efficiency as a spy, she crossed to the desk and looked at the paper he was placing before him to resume his work.
“It’s a numeral substitution, I see,” Belle remarked.
“Yes,” the elderly Polish expert answered. “And they can be most difficult to break unless one has the key.”
“Perhaps the Yankees have used the same kind of key wording as we did,” the girl suggested. “Why not see whether they’ve used the first lines of ‘Dixie’ as the base.”
“It’s worth a try,” Professor ’Zac admitted, and took another sheet of paper. Having written “Southrons hear your country call you, up lest death or worse befall you, to arms, to arms, to arms in Dixie” and placed numbers from one to twenty-six above the appropriate letters, he compared the result with the message and shook his head. “No, that isn’t it.”
“That’s possible,” the expert conceded, and carried out a similar test with “I wish I was in the land of cotton, old days there are not forgotten, look away, look away, away down south in Dixie,” written by Daniel D. Emmet.
“I wonder if they might have decided it would be too obvious and used ‘Yankee Doodle’ like we do?” Belle remarked, after another experiment failed to produce anything understandable.
The first attempt to employ the numbers used by the Confederate States Secret Service proved no more successful than the preceding pair. However, Professor ’Zac had an inspiration. Reversing the order of the numbers, he found that he was able to reproduce the message in its entirety. Reading what he printed neatly on another sheet of paper, he raised his head and looked hard at Belle.
“Look at this!” the elderly expert requested.
“So this is where they are going to be in five days!” the girl breathed as she did as requested. The message was addressed to the names by which George Tollinger and Alfred Barmain were now known and instructed them to attend a rendezvous with other agents of the Yankee Secret Service at Grunion, a town she had never heard of. Checking the map on the wall of the office, she found it to be a small place on the way to Brandywine and estimated the distance to be no more than five miles over the Pennsylvania border. Her face lost all its color as she gritted rather than just said, “Excuse me, please, Professor ’Zac. I must show this to my aunt immediately.”