Ernest Haycox - Alder Gulch

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This edition is published by BORODINO BOOKS www.pp-publishing.com

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Text originally published in 1941 under the same title.

Borodino Books 2017, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

Publishers Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Authors original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern readers benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

ALDER GULCH

BY

ERNEST HAYCOX

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PIERCE, IVE GOT TO TAKE YOUR GUN.

Jack Galleghers words filled the air as George Ives and Jeff Pierce stood facing each other across the room. Ives laughed; his skin was florid and his eyes were bright. He made a gesture with his shoulder and Dutch John Wagner started for his holster.

Pierce saw this and flung up his gun and fired. Dutch John fell to the floor. Then Pierce ran at Ives and Ives smile vanished. Pierce lifted his gun and brought the barrel down on Ives head and dropped the man senseless to the floor.

Immediately he whirled around to the men who were watching.

What did you start to say, Jack?

Ernest Haycox is a master and ALDER GULCH is one of his best. Dallas Times Herald

ONEESCAPE

One moment he was a cool man who viewed his chances for escape and found them full of risk; and then a night wind moved over the river with its odors of dark soil warmed by summer rain and the resin scent of firs and the acrid taint of brush fires, and when these rank flavors came to him he knew at once he was done with caution. He belonged to the land and the land summoned him. Before midnight came he would go over the ships side, no longer caring whether it would be as a living man or a dead one. He stood on the foredeck and laid a hand on a capstans bar, and excitement rushed all through him and sweat made a dry nettle-stinging on his face.

The Bosn was a short black shadow hard by the foremast pinrail. The Bosn said, Pierce, come down from there.

This square-rigged ship, the Panama Chief , wound slowly at midstream anchor, bowsprit pointed on the streaky glow of Portlands waterfront lights two hundred feet removed. One street lay against a ragged backdrop of buildings, beyond which the dark main hulk of town ran back into a mass of firs rising blackly to rear hills. All sounds travelled resonantly over the waterthe crack of a teamsters whip, the scrape of feet on the boardwalks, the revel of a near-by saloon.

Come down, repeated the Bosn.

The ships bell struck five short ringing notes. The moons quarter-full face dimmed behind a bank of clouds and the color of night at once deepened so that the surface of the river became a vague-moving oil surface into which a man might quickly drop and quickly vanish. Pierce bent and unlaced his shoes. He kicked them quietly off, moved to the break of the deck and descended the ladder.

He went by the Bosn, passed the galley and paused near the mainmast shrouds. Mister Sitgreaves, the First Mate, stood against the starboard rail and Canrinus, the Second Officer, was in the same sentry position on the port side. The Captain was above them on the aft deck, his cigar bright-burning in the shadows. Mister Sitgreaves, called the Captain, come here.

There were two named Sitgreaves on this ship, the Mate and his brother the Captain. The Mate retreated and went scuffing up the aft decks ladder. On the amidships hatch cover the rest of the Panama Chiefs crew silently and sullenly waited for a break to come, hating the ship and its master and its officers.

The Captain said in his bold, steady voice, If any man tries to jump ship, Mister Sitgreaves, knock him down. This crew is signed from San Francisco to Canton and return. Im no hand to lose my men.

The Captain was afraid of losing his men, as well he might. All of them, excepting the two Mates and the Bosn, had been shanghaied aboard at San Francisco by force and knockout drops. There had been, Pierce remembered, an amiable man beside him in the Bella Union saloon. The amiable man had suggested a drink and presently he, Pierce, had died on his feet, to awaken on the Panama Chief at sea.

Bully boy, said a murmuring voice from the amidships hatch cover.

The Captain moved to the head of the ladder and he stared below him and gave the crew his hard, short laugh. Youd like me down there, no doubt, to start a confusion whereby you could make your escape. Ill not please you till we put to sea. Then, by God, Ill give you confusion.

On the hatch cover men softly and bitterly murmured. The First Mate, Mister Sitgreaves, clanked down the ladder and took his station again at the starboard rail. The Second Officer hadnt moved from the port side, the Bosn remained deep in the foremasts shadows. All these men were armed, and it was six months to Canton and back, by which time this year of 1863 would be gone. The Panama Chief was no better than the Confederates prison at Richmond, of which Pierce had his undescribable memories.

He closed his fingers around the rail and his body, lank in the shadows, bent backward until all weight rested on the balls of his feet. Mister Sitgreaves saw this and smoothly said, I wouldnt do that.

The men on the hatch cover stirred and rose up. Brought aboard by violence, starved and bruised by iron discipline, they caught the clear wild smell of freedom and suddenly all of them were shifting softly along the deck. The Captain issued a sharp call

Whos that by the rail, Mister Sitgreaves?

The Mate said, Pierce, sir.

Knock him down, Mister Sitgreaves.

The Mate moved forward, his boots sibilantly chafing the deck. Pierce let his arm drop to the cool round top of a belaying pin, seized it from the bitts and took one quick side step. A sound at his rear warned him that the Bosn now was moving forward to slug him and a man in the crew called out, Watch back!

The Captain roared, By God, dont you know whos master on this boat? and came down the ladder in long jumps.

Pierce gave ground and retreated to the hatch cover, thereby avoiding the Mate and the Bosn who now joined shoulder to shoulder and moved slowly at him. The crew shifted toward Pierce, making a cover for him; faced with this unexpected resistance, Mate and Bosn paused.

The Captain said, Ill show you how to handle mutiny, Mister Sitgreaves, and came on, bold and black in the night. Some man groaned, Youre done in, Pierce!

Pierce gave ground as Bosn and Mate moved at him, backing toward the port rail. The Captain wheeled to block Pierces way. Youre a sea-lawyer, he said. I am going to make you cry like a dog.

These three, Captain and Mate and Bosn, were pinching him in against the galley wall. He wheeled and ran around the galley, circling it to the starboard side, and reached the mainmast stays. He had shaken Mate and Bosn but the Captain had outguessed him; the Captain was before him, softly laughing in his throat. Pierce saw the Captain pluck a pistol out of his pocket and lift it for aim, and all this while the steps of the Mate and Bosn pounded behind him. Pierce, never wholly stopped, wheeled aside. He caught the flat explosion in his face and felt the violent pain of his eardrums, and brought the belaying pin down on the Captains head in one sweeping blow. The next instant he took his tumbling dive over the ships rail, with a second shot from another gun following. Deep under the water he heard its echo.

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