Moontrap - Don Berry (34 page)

They put the kettle down at the roadside, and Monday
wiped his forehead. He had held out as long as he could, but Webb had
finally sat himself down beside the trail obstinately. He refused to
say a single word, and Monday, realizing the end had come, took over
with Devaux. He was secretly satisfied that he had managed to get
Webb to carry it well over halfway.

Meek dug in his pocket and got his marshal's badge,
and pinned it carefully dead-center on his belly.

"
Wagh!
"
Monday said. "That's a hell of a walk, comin' back. I tol' y' it
was farther."

"Me, I'm glad we brought the whisky,"
Devaux said. "If we had some violins it would be perfect."

"Hell, I'd be sober by now if'n we'd of left
it," Meek said. "Now shut y'r traps an' follow me." He
started down the path toward the rock outcropping. Devaux and Monday
followed with the kettle, Webb behind. From the trail they could hear
the sound of voices and
laughing.

There were only three men left at the cannon, and
empty powder sacks were scattered around the rock. "All right,
boys," Meek said loudly "Clear out, now."

The three farmers looked around, startled. "What's
the trouble, Meek? We ain't doin' no harm." One of them glanced
behind the marshal to the three who had followed him down the path.
He saw the kettle and looked puzzled. "What the hell's that?"
he said.

Meek looked around. "That there's cleanin'
fluid," he said. "You boys been shootin' this here gun off
all day, now we got t' clean it."

"Cleanin' fluid? Cleanin' fluid for a cannon?
Meek, I never heard—"

"
Now look here, friend. We ain't come t' discuss
y'r ignorance. Now you just clear out an' let us get t' work."

Reluctantly the farmers looked at one another, then
back at Meek and the others. Finally one of them shrugged. He stuck
the smoking punk upright in the ground beside the cannon. "All
right, but listen. We promised t' get this here cannon back t'
McLoughlin two hours ago."

"
Don't you worry about that. I seen him just ten
minutes ago an' he says, 'Let the boys have their fun. But you get
that gun cleaned up.' "

Scowling, the three men began to trudge past. One of
them sniffed as he passed the marshal. "You been inter that
cleanin' fluid y'r own self, Meek," he said enviously.

Meek winked at him. "Might could be I have. I
expect there's enough left f'r the cannon an' you boys too. Jaybird,"
he said, turning, "let these here boys have a bit o' that
cleanin' fluid f'r their rifles."

They did, and Devaux let them have the bottle he'd
brought along to carry it in. The three farmers finally wound off up
the path in better humor.

"W
agh!
"
Meek said gleefully. "Let's put 'er under, boys."

The
Portsmouth
,
now in shade, lay peacefully at anchor just a little downstream from
their cliff. Meek kicked the one remaining powder sack with his toe,
and looked out across the river at the sloop.

"That's a hell of a long shoot, " Monday
said dubiously "Y'think we c'n reach 'er from here?"

"
Hell, yes," Webb said. "This nigger
knows all about such. She's just like any other rifle. More powder
y'put to 'er the farther she goes."

"Well, we best load 'er up good, then,"
Meek said.

"Friend of me," Devaux said dubiously.
"What we going to use for ball?"

"Rocks, I expect," Meek said, rubbing the
back of his neck. "That's all we got, ain't it?"

"
Listen," Monday objected. "You ain't
going to sink a sloop-of-war with rocks."

"
Why not? Put enough powder behind 'em. y' c'd
prob'ly sink 'er with straws."

"
Me, I think we must have a trial shot. For
range."

Meek looked doubtfully at the powder sack. "I
ain't sure we got enough powder for but one shot," he said.

"Hell, you put all that powder in there it'll
fill up the whole damn barrel," Monday said.

"
Well, that's about what she's goin' t' need, "
Meek said. He pointed out to the sloop. "Look at that, that's
one hell of a long shoot, y'know."

"
That cannon's goin' t' blow up, sure as hell,"
Monday said.

Meek shrugged. "Well, I already owe McLoughlin
so much I expect the price of a cannon ain't goin' t' make much
difference. You boys start gettin' rocks, an' I'll put the charge to
'er."

"How you going to aim, you don't make a ranging
shot?"

"Just like a rifle," Webb said. "Listen,
this nigger knows all about such. Whyn't you back off an' lemme fire
'er?"

"No," Meek said firmly. "This here was
my idee an' I get t' shoot 'er off."

Monday dropped some rocks beside the muzzle of the
cannon Suddenly he squatted on his heels and looked seriously up at
Meek. "I don't think you know what y're doin'," he said.

"What I wish," Meek said, "I wisht I
c'd get in a little bit o' practicin'. It ain't ever' day a man gets
t' sink a warship. I'd like t' do 'er just right."

"
I know what you mean," Devaux said. "Me,
I find the attitude admirable."

"
Well, I expect we'll just have t' trust t'
luck," Monday said. There was a creaking of wagon wheels on the
road above, and the snuffling of a horse. The noise ceased and Webb
jumped up excitedly.

"Load 'er up, load 'er up! Somebody's comin'!"

"
Dépéche-toi!
"
Devaux said, running up to grab the ram. Meek began to shovel powder
frantically while Monday stood by with the rocks. "Is enough, is
enough!" Devaux said. Almost pushing Meek out of the way he
began to ram down the loose powder. Meek ran over to the smoldering
punk the others had left upright in the ground and began to blow it
into glowing red.

He ran back and poised the punk over the cannon's
touch-hole.

"
Wait a minute, dammit, " Monday shouted.
"Lemme get the rocks in!"

Webb started to laugh and kick the whisky kettle,
making a loud
bell-like tolling.

"
Get out o' the way, get out o' the way!"
Meek said. "Here she goes!"

Monday jumped back away from the muzzle, laughing.
"Run f'r y'r lives!" he hollered.

He and Devaux scurried back toward the path. Holding
his free hand over his ear and squinting down at the touch-hole Meek
lowered the punk. For what seemed a long time nothing happened.

Then, suddenly, there was a brief flash of smoke at
the punk, and the cannon bellowed, spitting a huge gout of puffy
white smoke twenty feet out over the edge of the cliff. The little
machine leaped wildly in the air and jumped back three feet or more,
falling over on its side with rolls of smoke still piling out of the
barrel.

Meek looked down at it wide-eyed, astonished at the
violence.

"Did we get 'er?" Webb demanded. He ran out
to the edge of the cliff again and peered at the
Portsmouth
.
The sloop floated placidly on the dusk-dark surface of the river,
undisturbed.

"We didn't get 'er," Webb said, turning
accusingly toward Meek.

Monday and Devaux came out to look. "I don't
even see any splashes," Monday said disappointedly.

"
I forgot to aim," Meek said, lifting his
hands and letting them drop again.

"
But the rocks," Devaux said, puzzled.
"Where did the rocks go?"

"Well, we done somethin' wrong, that's all there
is to it," Meek said firmly. "That's what happens when you
get in too much of a hurry."

"But the rocks," Devaux said again,
disturbed. "Where did the rocks go? Did you put them in?"

"
I didn't get 'em all in," Monday said.
"Hell, with that dunghead standin' there ready t' touch 'er off,
I didn't figure t' hang around—"

"
Y' had too damn much powder in there. Meek,"
Webb said. He was crouched down looking at the cannon. It lay
helplessly on its side, trails of blue smoke still streaming out of
the muzzle and rising straight into the still air of afternoon. "It
ain't supposed t' fall over like that."

"
Mr. Joe, Mr. Joe," came a voice behind
them. John McLoughlin stood at the trail, his eyes wide and the great
mane of white hair seeming to float around his head like a low cloud.
With one hand he rubbed his stomach rapidly.

"
Mr. Joe, what—what are you about here?"
McLoughlin asked excitedly. "This will never do, Mr. Joe, never
do!"

"Well, we—we was just celebrating a little,
Doctor," said Meek in a friendly way.

McLoughlin bent over and sniffed at the kettle. "Yes,
yes," he said abstractedly. "But Mr. joe, this will never
do. You had some sort of projectile there. Dangerous, Mr. Joe,
terribly dangerous."

"
Wagh!
"
Webb said happily. "That there's the idee. We figured t' sink
that there little boat slick."

McLoughlin raised his eyes. "My cannon," he
said to heaven. "My cannon." At last he looked back down at
the men, glanced at the cannon, started to say something, and
stopped. He shook his head helplessly, setting the loose hair into
motion again.

"We'll clean 'er up good as new, Doctor,"
Meek assured him. "We even brought the cleanin' fluid."

"Yes, yes, Mr. Joe," McLoughlin said. "I
see that. Mr. Joe, can you imagine the situation if you had succeeded
in sinking that vessel? With my cannon?"

"Well, hell," Meek said hesitantly. "I
didn't exactly think about the thing is, Doctor, a man's got his
dignity."

McLoughlin shook his head again. "Gentlemen, I
must ask you not to avenge your dignity with my equipment. An
American warship! My cannon! Mr. Joe."

"
Well, anyways," Webb muttered cheerfully.
"We got a good bang out of 'er."

"Me," Devaux said, "I had a great envy
to see it sink, that boat."

3

It had been a pretty good Independence Day after all.
The grand attempt had cheered them all considerably even though,
strictly speaking, it had not accomplished its purpose. Meek was
genuinely chagrined when he thought of the possible consequences of
sinking an official representative of the United States Government
with McLoughlin's cannon, and he set himself to humility and
cooperation, dragging the little machine up the trail and helping
load it into McLoughlin's waiting wagon.

"By God, though," he told McLoughlin, "if'
n you hadn't of rushed me, we'd of got 'er sure."

"
Mr. Joe," McLoughlin said resignedly, "my
life consists of arriving somewhere five minutes before utter
disaster."

At the end of the day everything seemed to get very
complicated. If Monday had had his way, he would have curled up on
the spot and gone to sleep. But the wagon had to be taken across to
Oregon City on the ferry, explanations had to be made to Little Billy
who seemed unable to understand exactly way his skiff had been left
on the wrong side of the river. After a careful consideration of the
condition of the mountain men, he finally realized he was much more
likely to get it back by towing it across himself. It would have been
difficult to predict the final destination if any of the four had
undertaken to row it back. The question was finally settled by
McLoughlin, and a five-dollar bill changed hands in the deepening
darkness.

When the cannon had been established back in
McLoughlin's yard, Meek regretfully rode on off toward his house at
the other end of town. Monday, Webb and Devaux began the long ride
down the valley "Listen," Devaux said suddenly, just as
they reached the edge of Oregon City. "We forgot the whisky
again."

"
Wagh!
We did now!" Webb snorted. "Damn! I b'lieve you boys is
drunk, do a thing like that."

Monday shrugged, unable to worry about it seriously.
"Me, I don't care. That's a hell of a jaunt back, now."

"
Is right, that," René said, after a
moment.

"Me, I vote t' go back an' get 'er," Webb
said.

"
I ain't votin'," Monday said. "I'm
just goin' home."

"How the hell come! " Webb said
plaintively. "Ever' time you bastards want t' get y'r own way
you vote on it. How come it don't work for me?"

"
Friend of me," Devaux said, "you do
not understand the essential. Before one votes, he makes certain he
is the majority, or it does not march properly."

"
Your trouble, coon," Monday said. "is
you been a minority all y'r life."

"
Ain't goin' to be no different, neither,"
Webb muttered. "You bastards think you change the way things is,
just by votin' 'em to be different."

The night was fine and pure as they rode along the
east bank. There was a sharpness and clarity to the stars that Monday
had seldom seen. They hardly seemed to sparkle at all, points of
brilliance in the fathomless sky. The moon was not risen, and the
depth of blackness was almost supernatural. They could see none of
the trail, but let the horses find their way.