The Bloody Border by J. T. Edson Page A

of the crew started to stand up, wishing to take a look at the legendary figure.
    Despite all his attempts, Pinkerton, then head of the United States Secret Service, had failed to prevent news of Belle Boyd’s activities from appearing in the Yankee press. So her fame had spread and there could be few members of the Federal armed forces who had not heard of the Rebel Spy. Aware of that fact, Belle used it to buy her a little more time. Once in the boat, escape would be far harder than while still outside.
    Even as the sailor with the lantern uncovered its face and directed a beam of light on Belle, showing without any doubt—due to the way the soaking shirt clung to her torso—that she was a woman, the required diversion came.
    Carried against the side of the Waterbury , the piece of driftwood hung against the chain armour. Not so the torpedo which dangled at the end of a six foot triangle of rope fastened to the driftwood. Continuing forward, the torpedo passed beneath the hem of the armour and, as the rope drew tight, lifted until the pressure of the water forced it against the bottom of the sloop. Having achieved its purpose in circumventing the chain armour, the torpedo needed only to complete its work. The current beneath the sloop acted on the torpedo’s propellors, causing them to turn, operate the gearing that released the coilspring. Up slammed the plunger, hurled by the released spring, to strike the detonator. With a dull roar, the powder charge ignited. A gaping hole ripped in the Waterbury’s bottom, allowing the muddy water of the Rio Grande to gush in.
    Nor did the effect end there. Still suspended on the side of the guard boat, Belle felt the concussion-spread wave arrive. Unlike the sailors, she expected—or hoped for—the explosion and was ready to take advantage of it. Given time, the guard boat’s crew might have realised why the Rebel Spy had been found so close to a Yankee warship and raised the alarm; but that time was not granted to them. Taken completely by surprise, two of the standing men went over the side as the boat rose and pitched on the wave. The lantern flew from its holder’s hand, struck the gunwale and flopped into the river.
    No less startled than their companions, the two men holding Belle relaxed their grip. Ready for that to happen, the girl thrust herself backwards. Using all the strength in her powerful legs, she tore free from her captors’ surprise-loosened hands. She went away from the boat, twisting around and diving beneath the surface of the water. Then she started to swim upstream in search of her companions.
    At the same moment that Belle jerked herself free from the sailors, the second torpedo made its presence felt. Caught by the spreading wave from the Waterbury, the keg torpedo crashed into the side of the second ship. Crushed against the side, two of the torpedo’s percussion detonators sparked their fire into the waiting charge. One hundred pounds of gun powder exploded with a roar that far exceeded the water-deadened boom of the drifting torpedo’s detonation. For some reason the ship’s captain had not ordered his chain armour to be spread, so the torpedo exploded against the bare side and blasted open a large hole.
    Only by an effort of balance and skilled handling did the midshipman and crew prevent the guard boat capsizing. Horrible oaths ripped the air and gurgling yells rose from the two men in the water. Then the midshipman realised that his prize captive had escaped. Standing up, he glared around him. He saw that the Negro fishing boat was rowing hurriedly away from them, which did not surprise him. No Negro would wish to become involved in the fighting between rebels and Yankees. However there was no sign of the girl.
    “Torrey!” he yelled. “Where’s that god-damned lantern?”
    “Over the son-of-a-bitching side!” the sailor answered.
    Although Torrey would never know it, the loss of the lantern probably saved his life. Upstream, in