The Rebel Spy (13 page)

Chapter 13

“Six men?” Dusty Fog said in surprise, looking at the big, powerful Negro at Jim Bludso’s side.

“That’s all,” replied Willie, Bludso’s striker. “They turns out all the coloured folks afore dark.”

“Maybe they move a guard in after dark,” Dusty remarked.

“No, sir,” Willie answered. “Once in a while they has visitors, but only one or two of ‘em at a time. I asked around among the house staff and they know.”

“It’s possible that they think they don’t need a big guard, Dusty,” Belle pointed out. “They don’t know that we stopped the consignment and hope to avoid attention by not having the house heavily guarded.”

“They sure ain’t like that Yankee colonel along the street from ‘em,” Willie commented. “He’s done got thirty men on hand all the time guarding him.”

“That’s a mighty big guard for a colonel’s residence, even in occupied territory,” Dusty stated. “It’s near on half a company.”

“There’s not been sufficient civic unrest to warrant that big a guard,” Belle agreed. “How close to the Gaton house are they, Willie?”

“A quarter of a mile, ma’am,” the Negro replied. “Only they’d not need to shout for help. There’s a telegraph wire running down the back from Gaton’s house to where the colonel lives.”

It was mid-afternoon and Dusty’s party gathered in Jim Bludso’s room to hear Willie give his report. Clearly the’ big Negro possessed excellent methods of gathering information, for he gave a very clear picture of the house. In far less time than Dusty would have believed possible, Willie had gathered enough details to make planning the raid feasible.

No white man could have done it in so short a time. Posing as a freed, but unemployed slave, Willie visited the Gaton house’s servants’ entrance and asked for work. Being big, strong, jovial and attractive to women, he ingratiated himself rapidly among the household staff. While it turned out that they could not hope to gain permanent employment for him, the staff let him stay with them. In return for helping with their work, they gave him much information and permitted him to see around both building and grounds. He noticed that the gardens appeared in need of attention, but his offer to do some tidying up met with refusal. For some reason or other, Massa Gaton gave orders that none of the staff must stray from the paths and had discharged one man who started to go amongst the bushes. Although unable to make a search of the garden and learn the reason for the ban, Willie managed to see the telegraph wires.

“They runs across the garden from a downstairs window,” he said. “And the one to the colonel’s house ain’t on its own.”

“There’re more of them?” asked Dusty.

“Sure are, Cap’n. I saw two more. Only they was fastened about eighteen inches above the ground and to the bushes. Couldn’t see where they went and didn’t find a chance to look closer.”

“You know what they are, Dusty?” Belle put in, the words a statement rather than a question.

“Trip wires,” he replied. “The Yankees used them and ground torpedoes up around Little Rock. One end of the wire’s fastened to a pull-primer and when you hit it, the charge goes up.”

“That’s what I thought,” the girl confirmed. “Maybe they’ll have the torpedoes in place too.”

“Give them their due, those Yankees are smart,” Dusty said. “Just six men at the house, but a good-sized guard on hand. Not in the house to draw attention and start our folks wondering why they’re there, but close enough to arrive in a hurry if they’re needed.”

“The telegraph manned day and night, most likely,” Belle went on.

“You can count on that, ma’am,” Willie remarked. “Least-wise there’s one room downstairs that’s allus got a man in it. Maid I asked allowed he’d got him some scientifical instrument in there, but she didn’t know what it was. Way she described it, I’d say it was a telegraph key like I saw a few times on the river.”

“Which room, Willie?”

“First on the right at the foot of the main stairs, Cap’n. Door was shut all the time I was there.”

“Locked?”

“If it was, the gal didn’t mention it.”

“I never did like them too easy,” Belle sighed. “If we set off whatever’s at the end of one of those trip-wires the telegraph operator starts sending a warning, even if the soldiers don’t see and hear the explosion.”

“Or goes to tapping his key should anybody slip through the wires and get into the house,” Dusty continued.

“Can we break in?” Bludso demanded.

“We’re going to make a try,” Dusty assured him. “We’ll have to go tonight, too if we can.”

“The longer we wait, the better chance for Cornwall to find us,” Lucienne put in. “Or for the Yankees to hear something and get suspicious. I’d say tonight, if it can be done.”

“Are you set, Jim?” Dusty wanted to know.

“Got all we need, Cap’n. We cut open some incendiary shells and poured the stuff into small barrels. A couple of them ought to do all we need. How many men do you want?”

“As few as we can manage with. You, Willy, Saul and—.”

“And me,” interrupted Belle. “No arguments, Dusty. This’s my assignment and I mean to see it through.”

“Belle and me then,” Dusty finished and grinned at the man. “Giving in to her straight off saves time. She sure is a strong-willed gal.”

“Will that be enough?” asked Lucienne. “You don’t need more men?”

“It ought to be enough,” Dusty answered. “We have to go quietly, so the smaller the party, the better.”

“How about you, Lucy gal,” Bludso grinned. “You want to come along?”

“Not me,” the woman laughed. “The days when I went in for that kind of stuff are long over. I’ll stay here ready to do anything that needs doing. How do you intend to play it, Dusty?”

“This’s how I reckon,” he replied and outlined his plans. Night found the party Dusty named standing before the Gaton house. With Jim Bludso and Willie as their guides, they passed unnoticed through the town and that despite the kegs and other equipment they carried. For the most part they went by back streets and other deserted ways, but occasionally needed to pass other people. At such time the men gathered around Belle, who was definitely feminine despite her male attire, and gave an impression of being a group of revellers on their way home from some celebration.

Luck favoured them in that they found St. Charles Avenue deserted. The big gates of Gaton’s house were closed and locked.

“We’ll have to go over the wall,” Belle breathed.

“Around the side then,” Dusty replied and led the way. Even in the alley separating Gaton’s home from its neighbour, the surrounding wall rose ten feet high and carried pieces of broken glass fixed to its top. When Dusty heard of the added protection, he laid plans to circumvent it. Unfastening the thick roll of blankets he wore slung across his shoulders, Dusty looked to make sure Belle kept watch and then walked to the base of the wall. Already Jim Bludso and Willie had set down the small kegs they carried and stood waiting to do their parts. Placing his right foot into Bludso’s cupped hands, Dusty thrust himself upwards with the left. At the same moment Bludso began to lift and Dusty rose up the wall. Willie’s hands went under Dusty’s left foot and the two big men hoisted the small Texan into the air until he was level with the top of the wall, then held him there.

Supported by the two men, Dusty spread a thick pad of blanket over the top of the wall. Although the broken edges of the glass made uncomfortable bumps, they could not cut through several thicknesses of the folded material. Sitting astride the padding, Dusty gave the grounds a quick scrutiny and saw no sign of guards. Already Paupin was being hoisted up by the two men and at Dusty’s signal took a seat facing him. Leaving her post, Belle joined the men. She unslung the coil of rope from her shoulder and tossed one end to Dusty so he could haul up Paupin’s tool bag. Next Belle came up and joined the two men on top of the wall.

“I’ll go down first,” she whispered.

Gripping the rope, Belle slid down it to the ground with Dusty holding the other end. The girl kept close to the wall, taking the bag which Paupin lowered and then the two kegs. On the other side of the wall, Willie handed Bludso up to the waiting men and then received their help to climb up and drop down, joining Belle.

“Keep close to the wall!” Dusty ordered.

When making his plans, Dusty gambled on there being no trip-wires or ground torpedoes close to the surrounding walls, or on the main path to the house. Unless he missed his guess, the Yankees would expect an attacking party to approach through the cover of the bushes and must have laid their defences accordingly. So he planned to reach the house by the front path; doing the unexpected often paid dividends.

“I’d like to unlock that gate before going to the house, Cap’n,” Paupin breathed. “If we have to run for it, there won’t be time.”

“It’s your game we’re playing, Saul,” Dusty answered. “Go to it.”

By the time they reached the gates, Dusty knew the first part of his gamble had been successful. They had encountered no trip-wires or ground torpedoes so close to the wall. Nor had Paupin found any difficulty in opening the heavy lock securing the gates. Before going further, the party took precautions against being recognised. Each one carried a cloth hood, made up that evening, designed to cover the head and trail down to the shoulders. In addition the men wore clothes which could not lead to their being identified. Slipping on their hoods, taking care that they could see through the eye-holes, the party advanced silently along the edge of the path.

Lights glowed in the main hail and a few other rooms, showing that at least some of the six men were present and not yet in bed. The sight did not cause any thought among the party that Dusty’s plans were going wrong. Working on the assumption that the Yankees would expect any such an attempt to come between midnight and dawn, Dusty arranged for them to reach the house just after nine o’clock. In that way, he hoped to take the defenders by surprise.

Not that Dusty intended to rush the front door. Close to the house, he left the path and walked along the side of the building. According to Willie, the servants could walk around the outside of the house provided they stuck close to the wall. So Dusty took a chance that there would be no protective devices in that area. He hoped that the Yankees did not go to the trouble of rigging trip-wires or ground torpedoes each night and removing them before the staff arrived in the morning. For all that Dusty walked along with extreme care, feeling at the ground ahead delicately before chancing his weight on it.

At last they reached the rear of the house and found it, as Dusty hoped, silent without signs of occupation. Moving by the small Texan, Paupin took the lead. He had already decided that tackling the kitchen door would be a waste of time as it was bolted in addition to the lock. So he examined one of the windows and nodded in satisfaction. Opening the tool bag, Paupin took out a can of molasses and a sheet of thick paper. After smearing some of the molasses on one side of the paper, he applied its adhesive surface to the pane of glass separating him from the window catch. Next he drew a glazier’s glass-cutter from his bag and carefully ran its working edge around the sides of the pane. Dropping the cutter into his jacket pocket, he took hold of the edge of the paper with one hand and tapped its centre with the other. A faint click sounded and the pane moved inwards a trifle. With a firm but gentle pull, Paupin drew the pane, firmly held to the paper, towards him and passed it to Belle.

“I’ll go in and unfasten the door,” Paupin offered, slipping back the window catch and raising the sash.

Slipping silently through the open window, Paupin disappeared into the building. In a surprisingly short time the kitchen door opened and he grinned at the surprised faces of his companions.

“That was quick,” Dusty said.

“The key was in the lock,” Paupin admitted. “Everything’s quiet enough.”

On entering the kitchen Dusty and Belle crossed straight to its inner door. Bludso and Willie set down their kegs while Dusty eased open the door and looked along the dimly-lit passage which led to the front of the building. Followed by Belle, the small Texan crept along the passage. Ahead of them lay a corner and, around it, the main hall. Just as they approached the corner, Belle and Dusty heard footsteps coming towards them.

The man who came around the corner clearly had no suspicion of their presence. Seeing them before him, he came to a halt and stared. Given a chance, he might have made trouble for he had size and weight in addition to a Navy Colt stuck in his waistband. Only he did not receive the opportunity to make use of either his heftiness or the firearm. Up lashed Belle’s right foot, driving hard into the pit of the man’s groin. Coming so unexpectedly and hard, the kick stopped any outcry the man meant to raise and doubled him over. Dusty followed up Belle’s kick with remarkably smooth timing and team-work. Around lashed his left arm in a
tegatana
chop to the back of the man’s neck, dropping him silent and unconscious to the floor.

“One!” Belle breathed.

“Hawg-tie him, Jim!” Dusty ordered. “Let’s see to some of the others, Belle.”

Leaving Bludso and Willie to attend to securing the first prisoner, Dusty and Belle continued to move stealthily along the passage. When making his plans, Dusty decided that Paupin must stay in the background until after the occupants of the house had been secured. They could not replace the safe-breaker if he should be injured, so Dusty refused to take any chances. On reaching the end of the passage, Dusty and Belle looked into the main hall. A wide staircase ran down from the first floor to the centre of the ball. Doors gave access to various rooms off the hall, but only one of them interested Dusty. First item on his agenda was the capture of the telegraph key so that no warning might be passed to the waiting soldiers. From where he and Belle crouched at the side of the stairs, they could see through the open door of the first room on the right. It appeared to be empty; certainly no man sat at the table on which rested the telegraph key.

Voices sounded as a door at the left of the hall opened and footsteps thudded, coming in the direction of the stairs. There would be no time to back off into the passage, nor dare Dusty and Belle chance crouching by the stairs in the hope of not being seen.

Thrusting himself forward, Dusty landed before the men. He went straight into a gun-fighter’s crouch and the Army Colt flowed from his waistband. Combined with their surprise at Dusty’s sudden, unexpected appearance, his speed on the draw caused the men to freeze. There were four of them, all in their shirt-sleeves and none armed. That left only one to be accounted for, unless Willie had made a mistake in his reckoning.

“Don’t make a sound, any of you!” Dusty growled, his gun making a casual arc that seemed to single out each man individually without losing the drop on the remainder. Slowly Dusty and Belle moved forward and he went on, “Back towards the wall real easy and quiet.”

Obediently the quartet backed away, keeping spread out just far enough to prevent any one of them taking cover behind the rest. Dusty wanted to get the men in a position where he could make them lean with palms on the wall and bodies inclined so that sudden movement would be impossible. Then tying them up would be easy.

Unnoticed by either Dusty or Belle, a plump, well-dressed man appeared at the head of the stairs. He took in the scene and backed away silently into a room, to emerge a second or two later holding a Navy Colt. Although he lined the gun on Dusty, the man held his fire. At that range he doubted if he could make a hit, and so he began to tiptoe down the stairs. Although Dusty and Belle saw the glances darted behind them by the quartet, each suspected a trick. However the girl started to turn her head, meaning to look and make sure no danger threatened them.

Having finished tying up the first captive, Jim Bludso came into sight, his knife in his hand. He saw the man on the stairs. Even without recognising the man as Gaton, the Confederate printer who sold his skill to the Yankees, Bludso could not have acted in any other way. Even as one of the quartet prepared to yell a warning, Bludso threw his knife so that it passed between the stair case rail in its flight at Gaton. Steel flickered through the air, sinking into Gaton’s plump throat. He gurgled, jerked and fired the Colt, but its bullet did no more than shatter a vase by the door. Then, gagging and choking on his own blood, the traitor crumpled forward and crashed down the stairs.

Instinctively Belle and Dusty swung their heads in the direction of the shot. Leaping forward, the biggest man struck down Dusty’s gun arm, gripping it in both his hands to try to shake the revolver free. A second leaped to lock his arms around Belle, holding her as he yelled an order.

“Get to the telegraph!”

After throwing his knife, Bludso charged across the hall, tackling the third man and Willie dashed towards the telegraph room. Swinging around at its door the Negro faced the approaching fourth member of Gaton’s guard and they disappeared into the room.

Deciding that wearing her gunbelt might attract unwanted attention, Belle had left it at the Busted Boiler. However she had the special bracelet on her left wrist. The man gripped her around the upper arms and from the side, in a position where she could not kick him hard enough to effect a release. That did not stop her getting her hands together. Quickly she eased the bracelet off with her right hand, then raked its razor-sharp edge across the man’s upper wrist. With a yell of pain he loosened his hold. Even as Belle drove her left elbow crashing into the man’s ribs to send him stumbling away, she saw Dusty’s assailant sail over the small Texan’s shoulder.

Willie came sprawling through the door of the telegraph room, his hood twisted around so that its eye-holes faced the rear. Before he could save himself, he crashed to the floor. Snarling in rage, the fourth man appeared at the door. Then he realised what he must do and put aside thoughts of attacking the Negro. Turning the man started to make for the table again.

Racing across the hall, Belle hurdled over Willie and as she landed bounded into the room again. Her feet smashed into the white man’s shoulders, hurling him across the room. On landing from the leaping high kick, Belle flung herself at the table in an attempt to unscrew the wires from the key. While she tried to free the first wire, a hand fell on her shoulder. Swinging around faster than the man pulled, Belle lashed up her right hand to rake the bracelet across his face. Blood spurted and the man fell back a pace in agony. Placing her foot against his stomach, Belle shoved hard. In the hall Willie was just turning his hood so he could see again when the man came backwards through the telegraph-room’s door. Still on his knees, the Negro linked hands and smashed them into the back of the man’s knees to bring him crashing down.

Crouching ready to attack again, Belle saw Willie leap on to the man and gave her attention to the urgent matter of disabling the telegraph key. Swiftly she disconnected the wires, hurled the key-box against the wall and then darted into the hall ready to help her friends. She found her services would not be needed and the situation under control. Although Bludso knelt holding his side and muttering curses and Dusty had lost his hood but gained a bloody nose, they need not worry for the four guards sprawled all around them.

“Are you all right, Belle?” Dusty asked.

“I’ll live,” she replied. “How about you?”

“I’m the same as you. Make a start with Saul while we tend to this bunch.”

Leaving the men to tie up their groaning, helpless enemies, Belle went to the foot of the stairs. Her face showed distaste as she knelt by Gaton’s body and searched its pockets in the hope of finding the safe keys. Failing to do so, she and Paupin went upstairs and made a quick but thorough examination of the man’s room. Again they failed to produce the keys.

“It’s as I expected,” Belle admitted. “He probably hands them to the soldiers after the house staff leave at night. Let’s take a look at the safe.”

Returning to the hall, Belle and Paupin entered the study as being the most likely place to house the safe. The guess proved correct and Paupin looked over the steel box with faint contempt.

“They’re sure easy,” he commented. “I could open it with a bobby-pin.”

“Do you want one?” Belle smiled.

“Naw! I’ve brought my tools, so I may as well use them. Go tell the fellers to start getting ready to leave. This won’t take long.”