The Dawn of Fury

by Compton, Ralph

  “Nothin’,” the operator said. “I meant to say you ain’t signed it.”

  “I don’t aim to,” Nathan said. “Send it like it is. How much?”

  “Eighty-five cents.”

  Nathan paid, waited until the message was sent, and left the office. He would wait outside. While the telegraph man had cut himself short, Nathan believed he knew what might have been said. Prior to Nathan’s message, the man had seen a similar one. Silver had never told Nathan why he’d been in town for three hours. Might he not have copied the key and telegraphed Washington? The little man in the telegraph office had been entirely too curious, hadn’t he? Stumberg would no doubt know of one or both telegraph messages. Barring quick response by powerfully placed friends of Byron Silver, Silver’s and Nathan’s remaining hours in New Orleans were few. The contact came fifteen minutes later. A man in town clothes and heavy topcoat approached the telegraph office. He was smoking a cigar and he barely paused before the telegraph office. He spoke softly.

  “Twenty-one?”

  “Yes,” Nathan replied.

  “Wait until the clock strikes eight. Then come to room 200 at the St. Charles. Knock three times, pause, and knock again.”

  He walked on, allowing Nathan no time to speak. But Nathan had no desire to ask any questions until he was off the street. He mounted his horse and rode east along St. Charles. He was more than half an hour from knowing what this was all about, and he chafed at the delay. He considered going into one of the saloons for a beer, but that was asking for trouble. Finally he tied his horse to a hitch rail outside the St. Charles and walked across the street to a wooden bench before a darkened store. There he would sit until time to enter the hotel. At least he had the storefront to his back, and could see anyone who approached from across the street or from either direction along St. Charles. Finally the big clock struck the hour, and as the eighth tone died away, Nathan crossed the street to the hotel. He allowed his eyes to sweep across the lobby before mounting the stairs, and once in the hall, he looked both directions before approaching the door to room 200. Quickly he knocked three times, paused, and knocked again.

  “Identify yourself,” said a voice within.

  “Nathan Stone, friend of Byron Silver.”

  Slowly the door opened and Nathan was virtually certain someone was back of it, probably with a gun. He stepped into the room and the door was closed. The man with the gun slipped it under his coat. His companion, who sat on the bed, was the same man who had contacted Nathan outside the telegraph office, and it was he who spoke.

  “Who are you, and why did you send that telegram?”

  “I’m the friend of a man who uses the name Byron Silver,” Nathan said, “and I did only what I promised him I’d do. I’m not saying another damned thing until I know who you are.”

  “I’m Powers,” said the man on the bed, “and he’s Grago. We are officers in the Union army. We are civilian dressed for obvious reasons. You say you are a friend of Mr. Silver. What do you know of his activities, and where is he now?”

  “I know nothing of his activities,” Nathan said, “except that he asked me to contact you if something happened to him. The two of us worked together for a while as gunmen for French Stumberg, until we got on the bad side of him. Today we were caught in an ambush that we believe Stumberg planned. Silver’s hard hit. He’s been seen by a doctor and is being cared for in a place of safety.”

  “Mr. Silver obviously trusted you, Stone,” said Powers, “and you have justified that trust by acting on his behalf when he was shot. We need a man like you, and we need him now, or all Silver’s work will have been in vain. Just how far are you willing to go in bringing Silver’s mission to a successful conclusion?”

  “In that same house where Silver lies wounded,” Nathan said, “lies the body of the best friend I ever had. A friend who died in Stumberg’s ambush. Does that answer your question?”

  “Then I don’t have to warn you that French Stumberg is utterly ruthless,” said Powers. “You said Silver told you little, but you must know something of Stumberg’s activities, or he wouldn’t be after you. Are you aware of his reason for being in St. Louis and of what is about to take place tomorrow night?”

  “Only what I’ve guessed,” Nathan said. “Silver and I traveled only once to St. Louis aboard the Queen of Diamonds. There was trouble aboard while we were in St. Louis. Two of Stumberg’s people died and one of the saloon girls escaped. Until now, that was the last time the Queen of Diamonds traveled to St. Louis. We never knew why.”

  “I suppose you’re in deep enough for me to tell you,” said Powers. “The girl who escaped—Trinity—is one of us. With her testimony alone, we have a case strong enough to hang French Stumberg a dozen times. Through contacts in St. Louis, we know he is about to deliver cargo—human cargo—into the hands of Mexican slave traders tomorrow night. White slavery. Are you familiar with the term?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said. “I saw the cabins, with barred doors on the first deck of the Queen of Diamonds.”

  “That’s a problem,” said Grago, speaking for the first time. “Somehow we must stop him short of international waters, but in a showdown, count on him to use the young women as hostages. What is your answer to that?”

  “Exactly what Silver’s would have been,” Nathan said, taking the key from his pocket. “Thanks to him, we have a key to those barred doors.”

  “Great God,” said Powers, “we have a means of freeing the hostages!”

  “Only if one of us can get aboard that vessel,” Grago said.

  “I’m going aboard,” Nathan said, “but only if I’m allowed to do it my way. By God, it’s my neck, and I give the orders.”

  Chapter 19

  “Perhaps you’d better tell us what you have in mind,” said Powers. “This endeavor represents almost two years of undercover work, and we are in no position to relinquish control of it to an outsider.”

  “I’m not an outsider, Powers,” Nathan said. “I have a stake in this that is stronger than yours. For starters, we’ll need a steamboat.”

  “We thought of that,” said Powers. “We have a government-owned packet. Go on.”

  “We’ll approach the Queen of Diamonds after dark,” Nathan said. “When I have freed the women from the lower deck, I’ll send them over the side. You will pick them up. Then you will issue a challenge to Stumberg and crew to surrender.”

  “Your plan is acceptable so far,” said Powers. “Without hostages, they will be forced to surrender.”

  “No,” Nathan replied. “I believe Stumberg’s playing for high stakes. I expect him to have enough firepower aboard to blow you and your government packet out of the water. I said you will challenge them to surrender. I did not say they’re going to.”

  “If they do not,” said Grago, “I presume you have some alternative in mind.”

  “I do,” Nathan said, “and aside from getting me close enough to board the Queen of Diamonds, I need only one thing more of you. I want a canister of black powder with a five-minute fuse.”

  “My God,” Powers cried, “you’re going to destroy the craft!”

  “Do you have a better idea?” Nathan asked.

  “Yes,” said Powers. “When they reach the landing here ...”

  “They’ll keep on going,” Nathan said. “Whatever Stumberg is, he’s not a fool. Once you challenge him to surrender, he’ll know he’s reached the end of his string. I’m telling you, he’ll head for international waters and safely in Mexico. I can stop him. You can’t, unless you aim to ram his steamboat.”

  “That’s out of the question,” said Powers. “Our packet’s half the size of his craft. But my God, man, do you realize the risk you’ll be taking? If you’re successful in freeing those unfortunate women on the lower deck, every man on board will be looking for you.”

  “Not if you’re keeping them busy,” Nathan replied. “Once you challenge them to surrender and Stumberg discovers his hostages are gone, I want you to
have enough armed men on deck to keep their minds off looking for me. I want enough time to plant the powder, light the fuse, and hit the water. For that reason, I want your packet as close behind them as you can get. I figure, by the time I light that fuse and get over the side, I’ll have maybe three minutes before she blows. Will that be time enough for you to gather me aboard and for Stumberg’s boat to leave us behind?”

  “God, no,” said Grago. “You’re cutting it too fine. If this is the only way, then double the length of the fuse. I’d want them at least half a mile ahead of us.”

  “Well?” Nathan asked.

  “By God, it’s daring enough,” said Powers. “Stumberg deserves to hang, but if he won’t surrender, then your plan is fully justified.”

  “I agree,” said Grago.

  “We don’t know when Stumberg’s boat will be arriving,” Nathan said, “and we can’t approach them until after dark. Is there any way—maybe by wire—that you can learn when they left St. Louis?”

  “We already know that,” said Powers. “We don’t expect them here until after midnight tomorrow. ”But if you’re right and they refuse to surrender, we must intercept them long before they reach New Orleans. An explosion of such a magnitude will scatter debris for a mile. They should reach Natchez well after dark tomorrow. We’ll pursue them from there, making our move when we’re well past the town. Does that meet with your approval, Mr. Stone?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said, “but I’ll need a little time in the morning. I have some buryin’ to do.”

  “Give me time to get a horse from the livery,” said Grago, “and I’ll ride with you. I’ll need to check on Mr. Silver and make arrangements for his care until he can be moved. How much do these friends of your know ... about this?”

  “They’ve known all along Stumberg was into more than just gambling. I’d trust Barnabas and Bess McQueen with my life. It was Barnabas who warned me about Stumberg’s involvement in white slavery before I got involved with him.”

  “If we all live through this,” said Powers, “I’d be interested in hearing how you got involved with Stumberg.”

  “We shouldn’t be seen leaving the hotel together,” said Grago. “Give me ten minutes, and then meet me at the livery.”

  Nathan waited, and by the time he mounted his horse and reached the livery, Grago was waiting. They rode a block north, to a less-traveled street, and from there rode east. Neither spoke until they turned north on Bayou Road.

  “You could have saved yourself a trip,” Nathan said. “Silver’s in good hands.”

  “I’m not doubting your word,” said Grago. “I have to make an in-depth report on Silver.”

  “Is he related to you?” Nathan asked.

  “Hell,” said Grago, “it’s worse than that. Remember the little girl who jumped ship in St. Louis? Well, Trinity’s my sister. She volunteered for this Stumberg assignment, and she has more than a passing interest in our Mr. Silver, if you know what I mean.”

  “I reckon I know what you mean,” Nathan said, “and was I you, I’d do my damnedest to get the both of ’em into some other kind of work.”

  When they rode into McQueen’s place, he greeted them from the darkness, a Winchester in his hands. Once they were in the house, Nathan introduced Grago only as an army officer involved in the Stumberg investigation. When it was all over, before Nathan left New Orleans, he would tell them the whole story. They had earned the right to know. Grago told the McQueens exactly what he had told Nathan, and he was allowed to go into the room where Silver snored noisily. Bess turned back the cover enough to test Silver’s forehead.

  “He’s building up to a fever,” said Bess. “The doctor said we should pour whiskey down him. Barnabas has a gallon of it.”

  “He’s never been much of a drinking man,” Grago said. “The hangover may hurt him more than the wound. We’re in your debt for taking him in.”

  “You’re welcome to stay the night, Mr. Grago,” said Barnabas. “We have the room.”

  “Thanks,” Grago said, “but I ought to get back to headquarters. I have to send a telegram to a certain young lady and tell her Silver’s alive. Be at the hotel in the morning at nine, Stone. Wait in the lobby, if you like. One of us will meet you there.”

  He rode out and Nathan sat down in a rocking chair. Suddenly he was very tired, and the events of the day seemed like a bad dream.

  “About time you was turnin’ in,” McQueen said. “We’ll need to roll out early in the morning. Bess and me will look in on Mr. Silver and load him up with whiskey when he’s in need of it.”

  Bess led Nathan to a bedroom adjoining the one where Eulie lay. When she had closed the door, Nathan removed his hat, gunbelt, and boots. He stretched out, and, despite the fact his mind was in turmoil, he slept.

  Nathan rose before first light, and when he reached the kitchen, Bess already had breakfast under way. McQueen sat at the table drinking coffee.

  “Nathan,” said McQueen, “unless you have another place in mind, I think we should make a place for Eulie at the north end of the horse barn, under the oaks.”

  “I can’t think of a better place,” Nathan said. “There’ll always be horses near. She would like that.”

  After breakfast, when the eastern sky had begun to gray, Nathan and McQueen dug Eulie’s grave. When they were ready, Nathan and McQueen carried the blanket-wrapped body while Bess brought the family Bible. Saturday night, working by lantern light, McQueen had built a rough wooden coffin. Now they placed Eulie in it and McQueen tightened the lid. Using ropes, they lowered it into the grave. McQueen took the Bible and read passages from it. When he had finished, he said a prayer. Cotton Blossom had remained silent until Nathan and McQueen began shoveling dirt into the grave, and then the finality of it seemed to strike him. He howled long and mournfully.

  “God, Cotton Blossom,” Nathan shouted, wiping his eyes, “stop it!”

  Cotton Blossom paused, but not for long. Finally, when the grave had been filled, there was nothing to do except return to the house. At first, it seemed Cotton Blossom would follow Nathan, but he changed his mind. He trotted back to the new-made grave and resumed his mournful howling.

  “He’s takin’ it mighty hard,” said McQueen.

  “Since we came to New Orleans, he spent more time with her than with me,” Nathan said. “I’m not sure when I’ll be returning here. Maybe when I come back ...”

  “We’ll see that he don’t starve,” said McQueen. “Just give him time.”

  “I forgot all about Silver,” Nathan said. “How is he?”

  “As well as can be expected,” said Bess. “I began giving him whiskey at three o’clock this morning, and I’ll continue giving it to him until his fever breaks. That’s all anybody can do.”

  A few minutes past eight, Nathan rode to town and left his horse at the livery near the St. Charles. Reaching the hotel lobby well before the appointed time, he took a chair and waited. When Grago entered the lobby, Nathan remained seated. Grago took his time, and without a sign of recognition, left the hotel lobby by another door. Only then did Nathan rise and follow. He didn’t hurry, and he allowed Grago to stay a few yards ahead until they were around a corner and out of sight of the St. Charles. Only then did he catch up, as they walked toward the river.

  “How is Silver this morning?” Grago asked by way of greeting.

  “Feverish and full of whiskey,” said Nathan. “He’s in good hands.”

  “The packet should be ready, with steam up,” Grago said. “Powers should have the canister of powder and the length of fuse. He’s also having a small dinghy brought aboard. Once it’s dark, that will float you down alongside Stumberg’s craft. You’ll have oars, and it’ll be up to you to stay out of the backwash from the paddlewheel.”

  “I don’t aim to chase Stumberg’s steamboat in a dinghy with oars,” said Nathan. “Since it will be dark when they reach Natchez, and since they’ll be taking on wood, that’s where I aim to go aboard. After that, I’ll need ti
me to open those cells on the lower deck and get those women over the side. Since I can’t signal you, I’ll want you and Powers to keep your eyes on the water nearest the south bank. Once the women are over the side and you’ve picked them up, the next move is yours. When you’ve laid down your challenge, then I’ll take it from there.”

  “You should be confirming all this with Captain Powers,” Grago said. “He’s the ranking officer, and it’s he who will be in the pilot house, directing the pilot.”

  “I aim to talk to him,” said Nathan, “just as I’m talking to you. Time is important, once that fuse is lit, and I can’t stop the clock’s ticking.”

  As they neared the river, Grago veered away from the landing. A hundred yards downriver was a trio of lesser docks that were seldom used, and it was at one of them the government packet had drawn up. It was a nondescript vessel, devoid of markings, and, compared to the Queen of Diamonds, pathetically small. There was no gangplank. A removable ladder provided entry. Once aboard, it seemed even smaller. There were but two decks, and the lower was devoted to a boiler, a firebox, and the storage of firewood. Its single stack puffed smoke. The pilot house was circular, with glass all around. There seemed barely room for Powers and the pilot. Powers beckoned to Nathan and he managed to get into the cramped glass cubicle.

  “I wouldn’t want to be stuck in here facing a good man with a Winchester,” Nathan said.

  “Neither would I,” said Powers. “This is Captain Tolliver, and we want you to explain to us, one step at a time, what’s to take place.”

  Again Nathan went through the routine he had already covered with Grago. When he was done, Captain Tolliver whistled long and low. Nathan took that as a negative response and his temper rose.

  “Damn it,” Nathan said, “I’m the one risking my neck. If you can’t do this, don’t wait till I’m aboard Stumberg’s boat with a lighted keg of powder to tell me.”

  “At ease,” said Powers. “Captain Tolliver’s a bit awed by what you are about to do. That doesn’t mean we won’t be with you every step of the way.”