The Big Gun (Dusty Fog's Civil War Book 3) (17 page)

Although the big gun, Pulling Sue, the men
and the horses were of interest to Red, he saved his greatest
consideration for the balloon. It was on the east of the camp and
clearly ready for operation. The huge round silk bag was inflated
to such a degree that it tugged against the four tethering ropes
which passed from the corners of the wicker basket to pegs sunk
deep into the ground. The main anchor cable ran from a hand winch,
which was underneath, to pass through the bottom of the basket and
be secured on the inside.

Nearby
stood two large carts, each with what
looked like an enormous wooden crate on it. Thick hosepipes ran
from the tops of the boxes to metal containers on the ground. From
what Douglas Staunce had said, that would be the equipment for
producing hydrogen gas to fill the balloon.

‘
What
do you reckon, Vern?’ Red inquired, at the conclusion of his
scrutiny. He knew the value of requesting advice from an older,
more experienced man and was willing to act upon it. ‘Can we get
through?’

That depends on the
sentries,
’
answered the corporal. ‘We can’t say how they’ll carry on once the
officers ’n’ non-coms are in bed. From the look of ’em, they won’t
be too eager to do their duty.’

‘
Let’s
hope they’re not,’ Red drawled. ‘Cousin Dusty’ll be madder than a
boiled owl happen he gets here and we’ve been killed instead of
destroying that blasted balloon.’

‘
Sure
wouldn’t want to get the cap’n riled,’ Hassle admitted. ‘Was I you,
Mr. Blaze, I’d grab me some sleep.’

‘
You
get some,’ Red answered. ‘I’ll take the first watch.’

‘
It
ain’t worth arguing about,’ Hassle declared, flipping open the
blanket which he had brought from the horses. ‘Give me a shake at
midnight.’

‘
I’ll
do that,’ Red promised and took the hacksaw, borrowed from the
mountain battery, from his own blanket. Before he had draped the
blanket across his shoulders, his companion lay asleep.

Time dragged by on leaden
feet
. Red
kept watch on the camp, selecting a route by which they could pass
through the tents and reach the balloon. The sides of the hollow
offered too little cover for them to have easy job. Straight in
front of them were the soldiers’ pup tents, with a larger wall tent
for the officers situated between them and Pulling Sue. From all
appearances, Cable and his Negroes had to bed down alongside the
machine and make do with one pup tent. After they had retired for
the night, a sentry armed with a Spencer rifle started to patrol
around their quarters and the traction engine. Another performed a
similar service at the balloon and its equipment. One more was over
by the picket line. They appeared to be all the guards considered
necessary, for no more were in evidence after the rest of the party
had retired to their beds.

Just before midnight, as Red
was reaching to shake the corporal, he woke up. There was no slow
and noisy transition from sleep to awake. With the
youngster
’s
hand almost touching his shoulder, the corporal stirred and sat
up.

Already very tired, Red needed no
encouragement to stretch out and close his eyes.

Wrapped in his blanket, Red lay dreaming of
attacking the balloon in a wild cavalry charge. Suddenly something
descended on his face and covered his mouth. He woke up, trying to
struggle.

‘
Easy,
Mr. Blaze!’ came Hassle’s low-spoken warning, ‘It’ll be sun-up
soon.’ He removed the hand from Red’s face, continuing, ‘Sorry
about that, but I didn’t want to chance you making any noise when I
woke you.’

‘
That’s all right, Vern,’ Red replied, shaking himself from
the clutches of the blanket. ‘I just hope you’ve not been cleaning
out your horse’s butt end. What’s doing?’

‘
Nothing so much,’ the corporal answered, in just too casual
a tone but Red was not yet sufficiently awake to notice that.
‘Still only three sentries out, but they’ve been a mite more eager
than I figured on. They’ve kept the fire and the cressets going,
dang ’em.’

‘
We
wouldn’t want things
too
easy, now would we?’ Red grinned, looking for the
sentries.

‘
I
would.’ Hassle declared. ‘Reckon it’s time we got moving,
Mr. Blaze.’

‘
Where’re those blasted sentries at now?’ Red demanded,
standing up.

‘
One’s
with the hosses, t’other over by Mr. Cable’s tent and last ’n’s
down by the wagons near the balloon.’

‘
I’m
damned if I can see the first and last. But the middle bastard’s
there all right. Lead the way, Vern. I’d rather you got shot than
me, I’m younger and’ve got longer to go.’

‘
Sure
does me good to know I’m under an officer’s thinks about me
welfare,’ Hassle commented, taking up the hacksaw. ‘Happen it’s all
right with you, Mr. Blaze, we’ll sort of sneak around the side a
ways and come down back of them balloon wagons.’

Leaving their blankets behind,
Red and Hassle advanced cautiously along the slope. Once clear of
the bushes, they still continued to test the ground with each foot
before setting it down and making sure that there was nothing
underneath that might snap, or roll. In that way, they
proceeded
silently and apparently without disturbing the sentry who
was continuing to prowl around the pup tent and traction engine.
Nor did either of the remaining, unaccounted-for soldiers raise an
alarm to show that they were aware of the Texans’
presence.

Red was in a state of tension,
but not sufficiently to make him grow careless. All
too well he
realized their peril and fully understood the penalty for failure.
If the balloon went into the air at dawn, Company C would be
spotted approaching and met by volleys of fire from seven-shot
repeating rifles. Not only that. The big gun would be free to
bombard the helpless citizens of Camden.

Step by step, searching for the first sign
of the sentry walking his beat, Red drew closer to the two
flat-topped wagons with their big, crate-like loads. At his side,
Hassle moved in just as careful silence and scanned the camp with
eyes which the years had not dimmed to any great extent.

At first, due to the angle at which he was
approaching, Red could not see into the gap between the wagons. Nor
could he locate the sentry. When he reached a position from which
he could look between them, he received something of a shock.

The sentry was sitting, apparently asleep,
with his back resting against the rear of the right side
vehicle.

Coming to a halt, the youngster
turned the palm of his right hand outwards. He closed his fingers
about the wooden, forward-pointing handle of the off side Army
Colt. Before he could draw the weapon, Hassle
’s hand came over to rest
lightly on his sleeve.

‘
Leave
him be, Mr. Blaze,’ the corporal advised in a whisper. ‘He won’t
bother us none.’

‘
How
come?’ Red wanted to know in no louder tones.

‘
I
drifted down this ways while you was asleep, just after they’d
changed the guard. Couldn’t get the bastard by Mr. Cable’s tent,
but the other two’re wolf-bait. After I’d got this’n, I couldn’t
see to the balloon without fixing him by the picket line’s
wagon.’

‘
L
ikely not,’ Red grunted. ‘Why didn’t you tell
me?’

‘
I was
fixing to until you said for me to get shot afore you did,’ grinned
Hassle. ‘Then I figured I’d allow you to find out for
yourself.’

‘
Gracias,’
Red hissed. ‘Let’s see if we can do what we’ve come
for.’

Circling the wagons, the Texans halted in
the shadows and surveyed the situation. Due to the danger of fire,
none of the cressets were too close to the balloon. However, they
still threw an uncomfortable amount of light over the area in which
Red and Hassle would have to carry out their attempt.

‘
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.’