by J. T. Edson
‘What do you reckon?’ Hassle asked, watching the sentry walking along in front of Cable’s tent.
‘Let him start going around the machine,’ Red replied. ‘Then we’ll head over there and take a look.’
Following the youngster’s suggestion, he and Hassle darted to their objective. The great dome of the balloon towered over them. Bending, they found that the basket had been dragged down almost on to the winch. The gap between them was too small to allow Red or Hassle to use the hacksaw. Gripping the side of the basket, Red hauled himself up and looked in. Several sand-filled ballast sacks hung on hooks around the outer edges. Inside was a couple of chairs and a small table which held a telegraphist’s transmission key. None of these items interested Red as much as the sight of the cable coming through the center of the floor to be secured around a cross bar.
‘If we stay out here much longer, we’ll be seen for sure,’ Hassle warned.
‘I know,’ Red replied. ‘Let’s get in. While you’re sawing the main rope, I’ll cut all but one of the others. Then we’ll jump out, cut the last and get the hell away. The balloon’ll go up and there’ll be no way the Yankees can stop it drifting away.’
Agreeing that the idea appeared sound, Hassle climbed nimbly into the basket. Red followed him, crouching below the wickerwork edge. Swiftly the corporal set to work with the saw. Carefully Red rose and, leaning over the side of the basket, used his Russell-Barlow pocketknife to sever the first of the anchor ropes. As he worked, he kept watch on the traction engine and the Cable’s tent. Clearly the sentry was not hurrying, for Red had released three of the ropes before there was any sign of him.
‘She’s cut, Mr. Bl— !’ Hassle began.
Released from the stabilizing influence of the main cable the balloon started to lift. Held by only one anchor rope, the basket tilted noticeably at the moment the sentry chose to come around the side of Cable’s tent. Dropping his knife, Red caught hold of the side. However, he knew that any hope of remaining undetected had ended.
‘What the he—!’ the sentry commenced, staring at the balloon. Then he began to run forward, unslinging his Spencer. ‘Who’s in that basket?’
Sliding to the lower side, Red twisted the right hand Colt from its holster. Even as the Yankee started to line the rifle, the youngster sighted and cut loose. Struck in the chest, the soldier spun around and fell.
‘That does it!’ Hassle growled, dropping the hacksaw and straightening up.
Shouts of alarm rang out and men started to erupt from the tents. Sword in hand, a Yankee officer dashed forward to try to prevent the Texans releasing the balloon. Leaning over the edge of the basket, Red placed the muzzle of his Colt against the last anchor rope. He squeezed the trigger and the .44 bullet ripped through the strands. Instantly, the balloon began to rise.
Increasing his speed, the officer prepared to leap and grab the basket. Corporal Hassle snatched one of the sand-filled ballast sacks from its hook and flung it down. Struck on the head, the Yankee dropped his sword and fell as if he had been pole-axed. The balloon continued to ascend, carrying the Texans into the safety of the night-blackened sky.
‘Well,’ Red said, returning the Colt to its holster. ‘We’ve sure taken their balloon away from them.’
‘Looks that way,’ admitted the old corporal. ‘There’s but one lil thing bothering me, Mr. Blaze. Ain’t nothing too much, mind, but how do we get the son-of-a-bitching thing down again.’
‘You know something, Vern?’ Red drawled. ‘I was just wondering about that myself.’ He paused, then stared to the east and went on, ‘Tell Wilbur, in Comanch’, to get the hell back to the company and say we’ve got the balloon.’
‘I wouldn’t know how to say “balloon” in Nemenuh,’ xvii Hassle warned. ‘But here goes the rest.’
During their assignment at the Battle of Martin’s Mill, Red and Hassle had used a similar method of preventing the enemy from understanding their instructions to the rest of the detail. The old timer had given his orders in the Tanima—Liver Eaters—band’s dialect, knowing that there would be less chance of a Yankee understanding it than if he had used his second language, Spanish.
As Sprigg’s voice faintly acknowledged Hassle’s words, the balloon continued to rise.
Although the Yankee soldiers were snatching up their rifles, consternation and considerable confusion delayed them. Before they could take aim, their target had passed beyond their range of vision.
‘Ain’t wanting to look nosey, Mr. Blaze,’ Hassle remarked. ‘But I’d admire to know what you’re aiming to do now.’
‘Wind’s still blowing south, what there is of it,’ Red answered. ‘So it’s pushing us in the right direction.’
‘Trouble being, the direction we’re going’s up,’ Hassle pointed out.
‘From what Doug Staunce told me, him having done some of this ballooning, it’ll only go so high afore it can’t lift the weight any more. Only I don’t know how high this thing’s set to go. Anyways, Doug allows that all a man has to do is pull a rope that’s hanging from the bag and it lets the gas out. Then the damned thing stops going any higher.’
‘Could be it starts going lower—fast,’ the corporal warned.
‘Like you say, fast,’ Red conceded and looked to where the eastern horizon was growing lighter. ‘I don’t know what you reckon, but I’m for waiting until we can see what we’re at afore we start to try letting the gas out.’
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Hassle declared.
Fortunately for the Texans, the wind was not blowing hard. While the basket shook and swayed, its motion was insufficient to cause them any serious discomfort. Gradually daylight came and they could see the land far below them. Not only land, but a river and houses.
‘That’s Camden!’ Red breathed and looked upwards. A length of cord hung from the bottom of the bag and was fastened to one of the basket’s ropes. Gingerly he reached out and gave the cord a tug. There was a hissing sound and he stopped pulling. The noise ended.
‘Just like Doug said,’ the youngster told Hassle, who had been watching with considerable interest. ‘When you pull it, the gas comes out, when you stop there’s a spring or something closes the hole.’
‘What if you’re going down too fast?’ Hassle wanted to know, as Red once more drew on the cord and allowed hydrogen to leak from the silken bag.
‘You start throwing the bags of sand over,’ Red replied.
Despite the youngster’s apparently casual attitude, he was watching and listening to the deflation of the bag and trying to control the rate of descent. Hassle too was looking upwards and neither of them noticed in which direction they were being carried. If they had, they would have observed that they were approaching the Texas Light Cavalry’s camp. What was more, in preparation for moving across the river if Company C should fail to prevent the bombardment of Camden, the regiment had already formed up by Companies. The men sat their horses with the backs to the rapidly sinking balloon.
‘What the hell!’ Hassle yelped, looking down at last and realizing what was happening.
By that time, it was too late for Red or Hassle to prevent the balloon from completing its descent. A man looked around, then yelled and pointed. Others turned, staring at the object which came cruising towards them. Next moment, the entire parade was disintegrated. Men spurred their horses out of the balloon’s path. Others rode to get clear of the ones who had fled.
The basket struck the ground, bounced and dragged as the hydrogen continued to leave the bag. However, it was still carried onwards by its momentum. Luckily, it was only travelling very slowly when it tipped over and pitched out its occupants.
Sprawled on the ground, Red and Hassle stared about them at the devastation they had created.
‘Well,’ the youngster said. ‘We’ve got the blasted thing down.’
‘Why sure,’ Hassle agreed and nodded to where a red-faced, furious-looking Colonel Blaze was galloping in their direction. ‘Know something
, Mr. Blaze? I wouldn’t give much for your chances of making captain and I don’t reckon I’ll ever get to be a sergeant.’
‘I should hope not,’ Red answered with some feeling. ‘We can get ourselves into enough damned fuss as we are.’
Chapter Eleven – Kill Cable
‘Good for Dusty!’ Captain Douglas Staunce enthused, springing from his horse agilely despite the Light Artillery saber which dangled from the slings at the left of his weapon belt and counter-balanced the Army Colt in the close-topped official pattern holster on the right. ‘He was right about the way they would come.’
‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Sergeant Major Smalley, remaining mounted and peering through the trees towards the bottom of the wide valley. ‘Permission to set up and make ready, sir?’
‘Go ahead,’ Staunce confirmed, continuing to look at and feel admiration over the visible proof of Captain Dusty Fog’s astute tactical reasoning. ‘Make sure that the men don’t show themselves and that they know where Captain Fog and his detail are hiding.’
Once Red Blaze had gathered his information regarding the balloon and had set off with his two-man detail the previous afternoon, Dusty and Staunce had held a council of war. Their work had been simplified by the fact that the small Texan had recently carried out a long and thorough reconnaissance in the area. He also possessed a range-bred Texan’s capacity for remembering terrain after having once traversed it. So his recollections of the vicinity had made up for any possible deficiencies in the large-scale maps which General Hardin had caused to be produced.
Harriet Cable had been called upon to repeat all that she had learned about the big gun and the composition of its escort, particularly about the nature of the officer in command. Being a shrewd, intelligent girl, her comments had been constructive and very helpful. She had told how Captain Stabruck had received orders to run for safety if there should be any danger of the Parrot being captured or destroyed by the Confederate States’ Army. In her opinion, he would be only too willing to carry out that order for he was more vicious than courageous.
Trying to put himself into Stabruck’s position, after listening to Hardy’s unflattering summation of the other’s character, Dusty had formed certain conclusions. Red’s attempt to destroy the balloon, whether successful or not, would have served as a warning that the Southrons were aware of its connection with the big gun. So, particularly if Red should be fortunate enough to achieve his intentions, Stabruck would assume that the Parrot was in grave peril. In all probability, the Yankee officer would not delay in starting to make good his escape. Harry had stated that she believed the small Texan was thinking on the right lines.
The next question had been where Stabruck would look for the big gun’s protection.
While the nearest Union troops were a detachment on the northern bank of the Ouachita River, covering the approaches to the town of Camden, Dusty had doubted if Stabruck would go there. There was only one company each of Infantry and Cavalry, acting as support for two batteries of Napoleons’. They would hardly make an adequate defense against an attack in force and would be far too accessible when one was launched. So Stabruck would go instead to the headquarters of the 6th ‘New Jersey’ Dragoons, probably the best and most efficient Yankee regiment in Arkansas.
Having reached that point, the Small Texan and the Englishman had started to consider ways in which they might prevent the big gun and its escort from escaping. Although Dusty had suggested the valley into which Staunce was now looking, they had regretfully concluded that they could not move out immediately. Nor could they leave their attempt until the following night. That meant they would be compelled to carry out their work in daylight.
Except for one detail, Dusty and—more particularly—Staunce would have been content to operate by the light of day. It would permit the howitzers to be aimed with greater ease and so produce better results. There was, however, one vital point which they could not overlook.
The threat to Eli Cable’s life.
Apart from the engineer being with the Yankees, it would have been an easy matter for the howitzers to shell the big gun out of existence while the Texans held back the escort.
Harry had appreciated the difficulties created by her father’s presence amongst the enemy. However, she had stated her belief that he would prefer to take his chances rather than continue to be a party to the murderous work being carried out by Stabruck.
Bearing in mind the danger faced by Cable, Dusty had suggested a place and the means of making the attack. The plan was based upon his conclusions of the route which Stabruck would take if making for the Dragoons’ main camp. It would offer Cable a measure of protection, but also placed Dusty and several members of his Company in grave danger.
Staunce smiled as he thought of the response to Dusty’s call for volunteers. Every member of Company C had immediately offered his services and, despite having been warned of the risks involved, the ten men he had selected were still as ready to play their parts.
Allowing the enlisted men to rest for the remainder of the day, Dusty and Staunce had continued to develop their arrangements. During the late afternoon, Kiowa Cotton had returned. He was a puzzled man, having found the tracks made by the big gun and its escort without discovering evidence that it was being drawn with a team of horses. Dusty had enlightened his sergeant on the reason for this phenomenon, then had ordered him to grab some sleep. When the Company and battery had moved out after sundown, Kiowa was once more roaming ahead as its scout.
On reaching the valley, Dusty and Staunce had decided that it would suit their needs. There was some work to be carried out, but time had permitted them to make all their arrangements before the enemy had put in an appearance.
Although the bottom of the valley was level and comparatively unobstructed, its sides rose fairly gently and bore a scattered coating of trees, bushes and rocks which became fairly close woodland at the tops. Set up among the trees, Staunce’s four howitzers would not be too obvious to anybody passing below but had a good field of fire. They would be shooting from a distance of about half a mile and had need to be accurate. While the main body of Company C was hiding with their horses in the woods on the opposite rim, Dusty and his detail had concealed themselves carefully close to the bottom. They were on foot and covered by foliage or other means to prevent themselves from being detected, but leaving them free to appear quickly when the time came.
They were also very close to the area into which the howitzers would be hurling shells!
Before resuming his scrutiny of the enemy, Staunce glanced around to ensure himself that his men were working as swiftly as possible. All was going as he wished. Not that he had expected to find otherwise from his battery’s well-trained veterans.
Due to the nature of the terrain they had to traverse, the battery had not been able to move the howitzers limbered for draught. Instead, each piece was carried split into its major components. The tube and the shafts to be used when limbered for draught were on one pack horse, the wheels and carriage on another. Nor had the ammunition been brought in a lightweight ‘prairie cart’. Instead it was carried—a pair to a horse—in eight-round boxes.
Each crew was rapidly re-assembling its piece, working without the need for orders or close supervision. Other members of the battery were off-loading and opening the ammunition boxes, to expose the waiting fixed rounds xviii of various kinds ready for use.
Satisfied that all was well with his side of the affair, Staunce raised a pair of field glasses. Although he knew the positions occupied by Dusty’s detail he could not locate any of them as he looked downwards. From there, he made sure that Sergeant Major Billy Jack was holding the remainder of the Texans in their places of concealment.
Changing the direction of the field glasses, Staunce studied the approaching Yankees. From all apperances, they were not expecting trouble. No advance guard preceded the party, nor were there any out-riders on the flanks. That was all to the Southrons’ advantage.
A captain and two lieutenants—one of whose head was swathed in bandages—formed an arrowhead in front of the column. Behind them—with Eli Cable standing at the steering wheel on the control platform and his Negro helpers feeding the furnace—Pulling Sue hauled the heavy burden with greater ease than any manageable team of horses could have achieved. Next came the escort. Apart from the first sergeant and sergeant in the lead, who had Spencer carbines dangling from leather carbine slings, the enlisted men were carrying their rifles suspended across their shoulders. The balloon’s two supply wagons brought up the rear.
Briefly, Staunce wondered what had happened to Red Blaze. None of the redhead’s party had rejoined the main body. However, the fact that the balloon had not been put into the air that morning and that the big gun was being moved away from its intended victims implied that something had been accomplished by the three Texans. Staunce wished that he could find something to suggest that Red had escaped after completing the assignment. The Englishman was equally aware that Dusty was deeply concerned regarding the welfare of his Cousin Red.
‘Battery mounted and ready, sir,’ Sergeant Major Smalley reported, returning on foot to his officer.
‘Aim for the main body of the escort,’ Staunce replied.
‘Solid ball, shell, or spherical case, sir?’ Smalley inquired.
For a moment, Staunce did not reply. Solid ball would not serve their purpose, being intended for battering holes in objects like walls. Nor was shell, which exploded on arrival provided its fuse had been set correctly, entirely what was required. That left spherical case; which also detonated, but sprayed out seventy-eight musket balls. While the balls were ideal for use against a body of men, they flew indiscriminately and would be dangerous to anybody in their immediate vicinity.