Lando (1962) by Louis - Sackett's 08 L'amour
Authors: Louis - Sackett's 08 L'amour
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talked, and much became plain which I had not understood until then--why the Tinker had come to the mountains, and where he had come from; and why, when we reached Jefferson, he had insisted upon turning south instead of continuing on to the west.
I knew now that he had never intended going further west than Texas, and that he had thought of little else for nearly twenty years.
This was 1868 and the War with Mexico lay twenty years behind, but it was during that war that it all began.
Captain Jonas Locklear had sailed from New York bound for the Rio Grande, with supplies and ammunition for the army of General Zachary Taylor. There the cargo would be transshipped to a river steamer and taken upstream nearly two hundred miles to Camargo. The Tinker had been bosun on the ship.
Captain Jonas had run a taut ship, respected but not liked by his crew--and that included the Tinker.
They had dropped the hook first off El Paso de los Brazos de Santiago, the Pass of the Arms of St. James. From there orders took them south a few miles to Boca del Rio, the Mouth of the River--the Rio Grande.
It was there, on their first night at anchor, when all the crew were below asleep except the Captain and the Tinker, that Falcon Sackett emerged from the sea.
The Tinker was making a final check to be sure all gear was in place. The sea was calm, the sky clear. There was no sound anywhere except, occasionally, some sound of music from the cluster of miserable shacks and hovels that was the smugglers' town of Bagdad, on the Mexican side of the river.
Captain Jonas Locklear was wakeful, and he strolled slowly about the deck, enjoying the pleasant night air after the heat of the day.
Both of them heard the shots.
The first shot brought them up sharp, staring shoreward. They could see nothing but the low, dark line. More shots followed--the flash of one of them clearly visible, a good half-mile away.
Then there were shouts, arguments. These were dying down when they heard the sound of oars in oarlocks, and a boat pulled alongside.
There was a brief discussion in Spanish, the Tinker doing the talking. At that time Jonas knew very little Spanish, although later he learned a good deal. There was plenty of time to learn ... in prison.
There were soldiers in the boat. They were looking for an escaped criminal, a renegade. As the boat started to pull away they backed on their oars and the officer in command called back. "There will be a reward ... five hundred pesos ... alive!"
"Whoever he is," the Tinker had said, "they want him badly, to pay that much. And they want him alive. He knows something, Captain."
"That he does," said a voice, speaking from the sea. And then an arm reached up, caught the chains, and pulled its owner from the dark water. He crouched there in the chains for a moment to catch his breath, then reached up and pulled himself to the top of the bowsprit, and came down to the deck. He was a big man, splendidly built, and naked to the waist as well as bare-footed.
"That I do, gentlemen," he had said quietly. "I know enough to make us all rich."
He was talking for his life, or at least for his freedom, and he knew he must catch their attention at once. There on the deck, the water dripping from him, he told them enough to convince them.
And to his arguments he added one even more convincing-- a Spanish gold piece, freshly minted.
By that time they were in the Captain's own cabin, a pot of coffee before them. The stranger dropped the gold coin on the table, then pushed it toward them with his forefinger. "Look at it," he said. "It's a pretty thing--and where that comes from, there's a million of them."
Not a million dollars--a million of such coins, each of them worth many dollars.
There in the cabin of the brig, the three men sat about the Captain's table--Jonas Locklear, the Tinker, and the man who was to become my father, Falcon Sackett. Jonas was the only one who was past twenty-five, but the story they heard that night
I knew now that he had never intended going further west than Texas, and that he had thought of little else for nearly twenty years.
This was 1868 and the War with Mexico lay twenty years behind, but it was during that war that it all began.
Captain Jonas Locklear had sailed from New York bound for the Rio Grande, with supplies and ammunition for the army of General Zachary Taylor. There the cargo would be transshipped to a river steamer and taken upstream nearly two hundred miles to Camargo. The Tinker had been bosun on the ship.
Captain Jonas had run a taut ship, respected but not liked by his crew--and that included the Tinker.
They had dropped the hook first off El Paso de los Brazos de Santiago, the Pass of the Arms of St. James. From there orders took them south a few miles to Boca del Rio, the Mouth of the River--the Rio Grande.
It was there, on their first night at anchor, when all the crew were below asleep except the Captain and the Tinker, that Falcon Sackett emerged from the sea.
The Tinker was making a final check to be sure all gear was in place. The sea was calm, the sky clear. There was no sound anywhere except, occasionally, some sound of music from the cluster of miserable shacks and hovels that was the smugglers' town of Bagdad, on the Mexican side of the river.
Captain Jonas Locklear was wakeful, and he strolled slowly about the deck, enjoying the pleasant night air after the heat of the day.
Both of them heard the shots.
The first shot brought them up sharp, staring shoreward. They could see nothing but the low, dark line. More shots followed--the flash of one of them clearly visible, a good half-mile away.
Then there were shouts, arguments. These were dying down when they heard the sound of oars in oarlocks, and a boat pulled alongside.
There was a brief discussion in Spanish, the Tinker doing the talking. At that time Jonas knew very little Spanish, although later he learned a good deal. There was plenty of time to learn ... in prison.
There were soldiers in the boat. They were looking for an escaped criminal, a renegade. As the boat started to pull away they backed on their oars and the officer in command called back. "There will be a reward ... five hundred pesos ... alive!"
"Whoever he is," the Tinker had said, "they want him badly, to pay that much. And they want him alive. He knows something, Captain."
"That he does," said a voice, speaking from the sea. And then an arm reached up, caught the chains, and pulled its owner from the dark water. He crouched there in the chains for a moment to catch his breath, then reached up and pulled himself to the top of the bowsprit, and came down to the deck. He was a big man, splendidly built, and naked to the waist as well as bare-footed.
"That I do, gentlemen," he had said quietly. "I know enough to make us all rich."
He was talking for his life, or at least for his freedom, and he knew he must catch their attention at once. There on the deck, the water dripping from him, he told them enough to convince them.
And to his arguments he added one even more convincing-- a Spanish gold piece, freshly minted.
By that time they were in the Captain's own cabin, a pot of coffee before them. The stranger dropped the gold coin on the table, then pushed it toward them with his forefinger. "Look at it," he said. "It's a pretty thing--and where that comes from, there's a million of them."
Not a million dollars--a million of such coins, each of them worth many dollars.
There in the cabin of the brig, the three men sat about the Captain's table--Jonas Locklear, the Tinker, and the man who was to become my father, Falcon Sackett. Jonas was the only one who was past twenty-five, but the story they heard that night
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