The Man from Pinkertons and teh Gunrunners

Chapter 4

In 1847, Ascanio Sobrero, an Italian chemist, was experimenting with a mixture of sulphuric and nitric acid, which he had combined with glycerine. He was trying to devise a new medicine to treat heart failure, when he made the mistake of heating this mixture in a test tube. Fortunately, the test tube contained only a tiny quantity of the ingredients, for as soon as it was held over a flame, there was a loud crack and the test tube exploded. Sobrero was injured by a few fragments of glass, but he really got off very lightly indeed. The oily liquid which he had produced was nitro-glycerine.

The new substance acted well on the hearts of dogs with whom the chemist experimented, dilating the blood vessels in such a way that it looked like a promising remedy for angina in humans. Sobrero though was uneasy. He realised that there was another and more dangerous side to this new drug. In larger amounts, it had the potential to be used as a weapon of war. It was vastly more powerful than gunpowder, the only explosive known at that time, but the new compound suffered from one great and quite literally fatal defect. It was so sensitive that it was liable to explode if banged, splashed, dropped or even shaken too hard. It also deteriorated over time into unstable compounds which were apt to detonate spontaneously without any warning. A fortune waited for the man who could find a way to render the substance stable enough for commercial use. In 1867, a Swedish man called Alfred Nobel found a way of soaking a clay called kieselguhr in nitro-glycerine and this made it safe. It would then only explode under the greatest of provocation, needing a detonator made of fulminate of mercury in the usual way of things.

Nitro-glycerine, and the newly invented stable form, patented under the name of dynamite, revolutionised warfare during the second half of the nineteenth century. It was also used for a variety of purposes in civil engineering; quarrying and the blasting of tunnels and passes for railroad lines being the principal of these. It was the epitome of modernity, the very latest in scientific advances and its use was limited in general to Europe and the United States.

South of the Rio Grande, the fighting in Mexico between the forces loyal to President Juarez and the rebel army of General Diaz had seen only black powder used for both musketry and cannons. The side that first had access to large quantities of dynamite or nitro-glycerine would surely sweep away all opposition on the battlefield. The difficulty was that preparing the compound was a very dangerous and uncertain enterprise and required supervision by a skilled chemist. It was not enough simply to mix together sulphuric acid and nitric acid and then stir in glycerine. The proportions used had to be just right and also combined very carefully, with the whole process being carefully monitored. Mistakes in the preparation of nitro were liable to end in explosions and death.

Colonel Edward Stannard was bringing two great gifts to General Diaz; presents which would almost certainly result in his overthrowing the current government. One of these was the Gatling Guns which would soon be acquired from the US army. The other was the assistance of a chemist with a great deal of experience of manufacturing the form of dynamite known as Black Hercules. This was even more powerful than the dynamite which Alfred Nobel had first made in Sweden. The fact that black powder was the absorbent agent used meant that the explosion which resulted from the use of this preparation combined the explosive powers of both nitro and gunpowder to devastating effect.

***

Jethro Kyle was up and about early the next morning. He observed that Pilgrim’s Crossing was a deal quieter in the mornings than it was at night, with few people to be seen when he left his room at about seven. Scripture tells us that ‘Morning brings counsel’, which is no more than a fancy way of saying that after a good night’s sleep we can often see matters more clearly than was possible in the hours of darkness, when we might be feeling jaded and tired. What was clear now to Kyle was that he would have to follow Stannard and his boys about for a while and perhaps find an opportunity to exchange a few words with the strange little engineer to whom he had spoken the night before. He’d an idea though that Stannard would not be enthusiastic about this; not now that Kyle had declined to throw in his lot with the others. It would need thinking on.

One thing which did occur to Kyle was that if he could find out about any army bases or forts thereabouts, then this might give him some clue as to where the action which Stannard was planning might be happening. He did not know this part of the country at all and so he would be compelled to ask around. He thought that simply enquiring in an open and honest fashion might serve him best and so he approached a man sweeping the dust from the porch outside the general store and said, ‘Pardon me sir, but I’m not from around these parts. Can you tell me, is there an army base hereabouts?’

The middle-aged man thus accosted seemed glad of an excuse to stop working for a while and he looked Kyle up and down, before asking, ‘Hoping to join up, hey?’

‘Not precisely, I hope to start some trade with any army base within easy reach of here.’

‘Well sir, then you’ll be out of luck. The nearest base to here is that at La Cruce. It’s maybe thirty miles south of here and only a stone’s throw from the Mexican border. They won’t deal with civilians though, as I know only too well. Everything goes through their commissary department and they never buy so much as an ounce of baccy from outsiders. Sorry to disappoint you.’

Kyle contrived to put on a woebegone look and said, ‘I did hear something similar. Is that the only base within reach of here?

‘Well, there’s the arsenal, that lies a way north east from the town, say four or five miles, but they’re worse than Fort La Cruce. Were I you, I’d give up the notion entirely. What you selling, anyways?’

‘Oh, I’ve a heap of ideas. Thought I’d kind of scout out the place first though.’

‘Well, if you take my advice, you won’t bother, but it’s nothing to me.’

Unless he was caught up in a snipe hunt, it seemed to Kyle that he had a pretty good idea now of what was likely to be going on. Stanton and his men were planning to ambush an army patrol, there was an army base south of the town and an arsenal to the north. It was a fair guess that traffic travelled between those two locations and perhaps it was on such convoy which Stannard had his eye on. Why would anybody set out to attack the army in this way? Because they hoped to steal something, presumably. This all seemed to tie in neatly with the reason why Kyle had been despatched to Pilgrim’s Crossing in the first place.

It struck Kyle that the best way of proceeding might be to check out the route from the arsenal to Fort La Cruce. He had no particular desire to bump into Colonel Stannard again and checking out the terrain miles from the town might be a good way of accomplishing his.

***

Getting rid of the soldier’s body had been undertaken the night before by the simple expedient of slinging it over one of the horses like a sack of corn and then taking it a half mile out of town and dumping it behind some rocks. With a little luck, by the time it was found the scavengers would have eaten away the soft parts of the face to such an extent that the man was unidentifiable. Now, Stannard and the five others were all crowded into his hotel room that morning, planning a little excursion to stake out the site of the ambuscade which they hoped to essay the following day. Stannard said in a business-like way, ‘I’m bound to say that I nearly choked myself when that little chemist assured us that only a bullet fired directly at it would be like to detonate this dynamite he’s managed to contrive.’

‘You think he guess anything?’ asked one of the men.

‘Not a thing,’ said Stannard, ‘He’s only thinking of the glittering career that awaits him as the man who made Mexico’s first transcontinental railroad a reality. Once he’s up in the mountains with Diaz and his men and realises he’s been sold a pup, why it’ll be too late for him to back out. Most men fall in and cooperate when they find that their lives are at hazard.’

Colonel Stannard occupied the only chair in the room. Two men lay on the bed and the other three sprawled on the floor. All six of them had their attention on the two quart-jars which stood on the low table in the middle of the room. Anybody observing the scene and not being familiar with the facts of the case, might almost fancy that the six of them were venerating some holy relic; so respectful and slightly awestruck was the attitude with which they regarded these prosaic objects. Part of this was of course that all of them shared the apprehension that the five pounds of high explosive might without warning explode, killing them all. Despite the reassurances which they had received from the fellow who had concocted the ‘Black Hercules’, all of them were very careful not so much as to jog the table and run the risk of knocking over either of the glass vessels. They had a great respect for nitro-glycerine and could hardly bring themselves to believe that the grey substance in the jars was any less unpredictable and dangerous than that notoriously sensitive and unstable liquid.

Turning to Jim Howard, whom he had known during the war and trusted more than any of the others present, Stannard said, ‘What d’ye think, Howard? If we bury these things so only the very tops are visible, could you engage to hit them at a quarter mile?’

Howard smiled and remarked truthfully, ‘You all of you know what I done with that Whitworth of mine.’ There was a chorus of groans and other noises intended to convey that they were indeed tolerably familiar with what Jim Howard claimed to have accomplished with the aid of his British-made Whitworth rifle.

At the very first meeting of the British National Rifle Association, which was held in London in July 1860, the proceedings were opened by Queen Victoria. She signalled the beginning of the competition to find the best shot in the country by firing a rifle herself and striking the bullseye at a distance of four hundred yards. There was of course more to the case than met the eye. In the first place, the rifle itself was clamped into place on a cradle, from which were suspended heavy weights to counter the weapon’s recoil. Secondly, the rifle itself was a Whitworth sniper’s rifle and this newly produced firearm could be accurately sighted up to twelve hundred yards. It could also be fitted with a miniature telescope which was affixed along the top of the barrel. The Whitworth, although a single-shot weapon, became the favoured choice of Confederate snipers during the War Between the States.

With its urgent desire to obtain enough cotton for its mills England was, for eminently practical reasons, more favourably disposed towards the Confederacy than it was the Union. Because of this, in exchange for the cotton, a considerable quantity of weaponry was shipped across the Atlantic, including many of the new Whitworth rifles. The almost supernatural accuracy of the Whitworth made them feared among the Union forces when they were entrenched near enemy territory. With only a half dozen snipers, a small force of Confederate soldiers could wreak havoc along the Yankee lines. It was just such a situation to which Jim Howard was alluding that morning; the affair at Spotsylvania Court House in 1864. Since Howard was the only one among them who had actually been present that day, it was difficult either to confirm or disprove his story.

In May, the federal Army was in Virginia and camped out at Spotsylvania. They were being harassed by the Confederates though, chiefly by sniper fire which kept them from relaxing for a moment. Major-General John Sedgwick was in overall command of the forces and when he was making his round to inspect the defences, he came upon the unedifying sight of his men hopping about and diving for cover to avoid the hail of minie balls being sent in their direction by the enemy. Deeply shocked at the sight of what he conceived to be unmilitary conduct, he addressed the men thus, ‘What’s this I see? Men dodging around for single bullets? Why, I’m ashamed of the lot of you! If you’re like this for a handful of snipers, what will become of you when they open fire along the whole of the line?’

Jim Howard had not been present to hear all this, but the story gained wide currency later and was related with relish by soldiers of the Confederacy. Howard, according to his own account, had been half a mile away, in a little vantage point in the hay-loft of a stable, with a perfect view of the Union lines. He said that he could scarce credit the evidence of his senses when he beheld a general march onto the scene and then stand there motionless, like he might have been posing to have his photograph taken. Howard had apparently squinted down the narrow brass telescope mounted on his Whitworth and drawn down on the general.

Sedgwick was working himself into a fury, preparing to deliver a ferocious tongue-lashing to his hapless troops, who were laying in the dust, trying to shelter from the hail of shot. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’m plain ashamed of you. All else apart, they couldn’t hit an elephant at this distance!’ Whereupon, a little over a thousand yards away, Jim Howard held his breath and squeezed the trigger of his Whitworth, sending a large-calibre bullet speeding straight towards the general. It was a perfect head shot, taking Sedgwick just below the left eye and exiting at the back of his head in a gout of blood, mingled with fragments of bone and a spray of finely minced brain matter.

This then was the story to which Howard was referring that morning in Pilgrim’s Crossing and it was one familiar to all the men present in the room. In fairness to the other men who had been present that May day at the Battle of Spotsylvania, there was a hardly a Confederate soldier who there who had not claimed since the end of the war that he alone had fired the shot which brought about the death of the only Union general to die in battle.

‘We don’t know exactly how many men will be escorting those Gatlings,’ said Stannard, ‘Best guess is eight or ten, a dozen at most. We can’t spring our mine too close to the wagons, because if we do, we’re like to damage the goods and that won’t do at all. Those jars though, with luck, will account for at least four of the men riding shotgun on the wagons.’

‘We goin’ out there today, to scout around?’ asked one of the men laying on the floor.

‘Yes, that’s precisely what we are about today. I’ve already been up at the pass through San Angelo and I found something which might be of interest.’

So it was that once they had gathered up their belongings from the various rooms which they were occupying, the six of them went to collect their horses and set off out of town towards the range of craggy hills which lay to the north-east of Pilgrim’s Crossing.

***

Jethro Kyle had left town a good half hour before Stannard and his men and the sight of those distant hills filled him with optimism that he might already be able to work out the play. He was justified in feeling hopeful, for when after four miles he came across the dusty track which he took to be the route running from the arsenal to Fort La Cruce, always providing of course that the information which he had been given was accurate, he saw that it ran straight as an arrow towards the hills and that it appeared to pass through a notch which divided the range in two. He set off in that direction and was pleased to find that the track did indeed run through a narrow pass between two limestone crags; each about eight hundred feet in height.

Kyle found himself unable to decide if he was dealing with some tall hills or very low mountains. Whatever word one chose to describe them, they formed a rocky barrier something under a thousand feet in height and which stretched in a line as far as the eye could see. As he approached the formation, the only gap he could see was that through which the road ran south, presumably to La Cruce. He reined in and considered the matter coolly. If all his guesses were right about an ambush being planned on an army detachment, then this would be the perfect location for such an enterprise. With a half dozen men hidden up in the rocks overlooking the route, they would be ideally situated to pick off anybody travelling through the pass. From a military perspective, it could hardly be bettered for anybody minded to launch an attack.

Just to ensure that he was thoroughly familiar with the place, Kyle rode all the way from one end of the pass to the other, a distance of two miles or so. As he reached the other end, he chanced to glance back and saw a cloud of dust being raised in the direction from which he had just come. It looked to him as though a body of riders was heading towards the pass and so he dismounted and led his horse up to a sheltered spot on the flank of one of the hills, a position which was obscured from sight by boulders and falls of broken rock. An exceedingly ancient bristlecone pine somehow clung tenaciously to the rock and to this he tethered his mount, who was an amiable and obliging creature. When he was sure that she was secure, Kyle clambered up the rocks and settled down to see who was approaching. Whoever it was, he thought that he was likely to learn more by observing things unseen, rather than by openly engaging with the party of riders. If it turned out to be an army patrol, then this would certainly tend to confirm him in his theory about what might be happening thereabouts.

***

When they were roughly halfway through the pass at San Angelo, Colonel Stannard indicated to his men that they should rein in and dismount. When once they had done so, he said, ‘The wagons will be coming from the same direction that we just rode and they’ll be passing this spot. This is where we’re going to strike.

One of the men said, ‘Pardon me for saying so, Colonel, but I don’t get this at all. We’re going to seize what, a ton and a half of ordnance? Then what? We just ride the wagons off and hope nobody sees what we’re about? You want we should cut and run for the border at once? What’ll all those men at Fort La Cruce being doing, just letting us be? I don’t think it for a moment.’

This was quite a long speech for Brent Carson, who was in the usual way of things a taciturn man. Stannard smiled approvingly and said, ‘Those are all good points and I’m obliged to you for bringing them up. Here’s the way of it. Jim, you want to explain what we’re about?’

Jim Howard was only too happy to set out the plans which he and the colonel had laid a few days ago, after they had rode out and examined the topography of the area. He said, ‘Me and Colonel Stannard come out here a couple of days back and found something right curious. Follow me now.’ He walked over to one side of the narrow pass and began scrambling up a slope which led to what looked like a vertical rockface, with scrubby bushes growing along the base of it. The four others followed him, while Stannard remained by the horses.

‘What are we supposed to be looking at?’ asked somebody and Howard chuckled. He waited to see if anybody would spot the secret which he and Stannard had stumbled across during their reconnaissance mission. Nobody did, which was a relief to him.

‘Why, you noodles!’ exclaimed Jim Howard in mock irritation, ‘Just look here now.’ He pointed to a section of the rockface and when nobody appeared even then to realise what he was driving at he dived into the bushes and vanished from sight. Then his voice could be heard, booming and distorted. He said, ‘It’s a cave!’

Once he wriggled out again, being careful not to damage of disturb the bushes, Howard explained the significance of the all-but invisible cave to them. Stannard stood by, content for the other man to have the task of setting out their plans. Howard said, ‘Me and the colonel thought that if we fired on the convoy, together with using the nitro, then any cart in the district would be sure to be investigated. It’s like to stir up a hornets’ nest and those soldiers’ll be swarming around all over, even coming to Pilgrim’s Crossing I shouldn’t wonder. There’d be little chance of carrying away twelve Gatlings and nobody seeing what we’re about.’

‘Then what?’ asked somebody.

‘Then we haul those guns off the carts, along with the ammunition and stash them in that cave. After which we set fire to the wagons and dig up, head back to town. Once folk come to investigate, they’ll find everybody dead and the wagons burned. They’ll think that somebody’s carried off the Gatlings and then they’ll go racing off trying to track them down.’ Chances are nobody’ll think to start examining the ground inch by inch.’

There was silence after the plan of action was outlined in this way as the other four men went over the idea in the minds, seeking for any discernible flaw. None came readily to mind and at length Brent Carson said, ‘And then a day or two later, once everybody’s off on a snipe hunt, we ride up here with a couple of wagons, collect the weaponry and take it down to the Rio Grande, is that the strength of it?’

‘You got it!’ answered Howard.

At this point, Stannard strolled over and said, ‘Anybody see anything wrong with the idea? I take it none of you are squeamish about killing a bunch of Yankee soldiers?’

Nobody seemed to have given that particular aspect of the scheme a second thought and from the shrugs and shaking of heads, the colonel deduced, quite correctly, that nobody was in the least degree opposed to shooting down every mother’s son of those escorting the Gatling Guns to La Cruce. Stannard continued by telling them, ‘We’ll need to arrive here at dawn tomorrow. I don’t know the precise time that those guns will be passing through, that damned soldier was too vague. We needs must be in position at first light though. So let’s ride back to Pilgrim’s Crossing now, with the aim of getting a good night’s sleep tonight. There’s be no drinking and carousing this evening.’

***

Once the riders had left and the sound of their horses faded altogether and there was complete silence, only then did Kyle emerge from his hiding place. He untethered the mare and led her down to the floor of the little valley. Although he had not been able to hear what was spoken, he had been close enough to identify the men clearly and was enchanted at his own perspicacity. Seeing those fellows meeting here and checking the location out served amply to confirm all that he had suspected. This was heartening indeed, for he had been increasingly tormented by the idea that he had misread the situation entirely and perhaps constructed some species of elaborate fantasy in his mind. Clearly, this was not the case at all. He had all along been on the right trail.

At the distance he had been, Kyle hadn’t been able to see what was going on by the bushes which had appeared to occupy the men so greatly. He went over to where they had been gathered and after some little searching found the little cave. At once, he had a pretty shrewd notion of what was planned. One of the things which Pinkertons valued about Jethro Kyle was that although not an educated man, he had a very sharp and quick brain. He could take a few sparse clues and then use them to construct an hypothesis. His hypotheses had a disconcerting habit of being bang on the money. So it was that having had his suspicions confirmed by seeing Stannard and his men fooling around here this day, the discovery of that cave made everything as clear as day to Kyle. The question now of course was what to do about this. That would need some hard thinking. He had been sent simply to gather information about gun running and his instructions had been plain enough; he was not actually to do anything about it, just pass on the results of his investigations. Surely though, Kyle thought as he rode back to town, those who sent such orders must have known fine well that he was not a man to sit on his hands when action was brewing. At the very least, he would have to find out a little more about the game before turning his back on Pilgrim’s Crossing.