‘There’s the sentry,’ Ole Devil Hardin breathed, halting and peering through the darkness. ‘Standing between the two wagons!’
‘Here,’ answered Tommy Okasi, in no louder tones, holding out his long bow which was now strung and ready for use. ‘I’ll take care of him.’
Unfastening and lowering the quiver of arrows to the ground, the little Oriental slipped the wakizashi from its sheath. Then he went forward with the intention of removing an obstacle to the mission he and the Texian were hoping to accomplish.
Once the horses had recovered from their fright, Ole Devil, Tommy and Lieutenant Paul Dimmock had wasted no time in setting off to conduct a further reconnaissance of the area. Still using the dead vaqueros’ mounts and leading their own, they had been able to travel at a much faster pace than Presidente Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna and his column. Picking a route which offered the most opportunities to avoid being seen, while keeping as close as possible to the trail, they had maintained an even more careful watch upon their surroundings. They had seen no further signs of the enemy, but did not regret the extra effort taking the precautions had entailed.
As there had not been anywhere suitable between the draw and the woodland for what they meant to do, Ole Devil had decided to utilize the remaining short period of daylight to find out what the terrain beyond the trees might offer. He had agreed with Dimmock that Santa Anna would halt for the night on reaching the small creek, but he wanted more information before considering how to deal with the situation. The assignment upon which they were engaged was of great importance and he did not intend that they should fail through a lack of foresight. So the trio had pushed on. After covering about three quarters of a mile, they had emerged on to rolling and fairly open range. In the distance, the trail disappeared from view after ascending what the lieutenant had claimed was a very steep slope.
With the darkness closing in, although Ole Devil had questioned Dimmock about the nature of the ground on either side of the ascending section of the trail, the three young men had not attempted to make a visual inspection. Instead, they had sought for a safe haven in which to spend the night. As Ole Devil had pointed out, while the Mexicans were unlikely to march through the woodland before morning, some of them were sure to enter for the purpose of gathering fuel, or in search of food. So making camp in the shelter of the trees was out of the question.
Fortune had favored the trio. Noticing a fold in the ground not too far from the edge of the woodland, they had discovered that it would satisfy all their requirements. There was good grazing for the horses and a small stream to supply water, but the surrounding terrain would make it difficult for anybody to approach undetected.
Giving thought to the prevailing conditions and what he intended to do, Ole Devil had ordered that the horses were to be unsaddled and hobbled. While restricting their movements and preventing them from straying far, the latter would allow them to rest and graze far more adequately than if they were secured in any other way. Not until the hobbling had been completed, using strips cut from the serape Dimmock had been wearing, had he and his companions attended to their own needs.
While making a meal from some of the jerky, xxxix which was the only food they had brought with them, Ole Devil had informed his companions of what they were going to try and do that night. It was an audacious, carefully considered and anything but ill-conceived scheme. Dimmock had not been pleased to learn that he was being assigned to a passive role, but he realized it was one which could not be omitted.
It might have been possible to approach and even enter the Mexicans’ encampment on horseback, but the primary purpose of the visit could only be achieved on foot. So Ole Devil had elected to make the whole of the journey in the latter fashion, which had meant that somebody must stay behind and take care of the animals. He had also pointed out that Tommy alone possessed the necessary skill as an archer to fulfill his intentions. Hoping to be allowed to accompany the little Oriental, the lieutenant had hinted that, as senior member of the party, it was Ole Devil’s duty to delegate such a dangerous assignment to those of his subordinates who would be less of a loss if things went wrong.
‘At least,’ Dimmock had concluded hopefully, ‘That’s what I’ve always been told is the ranking officer’s responsibility.’
‘Rank doesn’t only have its responsibilities, Paul,’ Ole Devil had countered, in a gentle tone which robbed the words of any sting. ‘It has its privileges too and that’s why I’ve picked me to go instead of you.’
Carrying some of the ‘reward posters’ and the original document supposedly issued by the Republic of Texas’s Government, although Ole Devil had hoped that neither would be required, he and Tommy had made their way towards the Mexicans’ encampment. The little Oriental was carrying his bow, and the quiver of arrows, which had hung from his saddlehorn while he was wearing the now discarded serape and sombrero, on his back. For his part, Ole Devil retained the borrowed garments and had the Browning Slide Repeating rifle, a magazine installed, across the crook of his left arm.
As Ole Devil had anticipated, there had still been a number of foraging parties among the trees. However, none of them had shown any indication of going far enough to continue their searching in a way that might take them to the horses. One of the factors he had considered was that, provided the foragers did not hear the animals, there was nothing on the open range to make them feel it was worthy of investigation. On the other hand, the noise the foragers had been making enabled them to keep out of their way. Their presence had even made the final stages of the task easier. The few sentries who were posted had seen nothing suspicious about two men coming from the woodland.
Even before they had reached the shallow creek, Ole Devil and Tommy had been able to identify their destination. The large striped marquee that Santa Anna had been using during the reconnaissance of February had been set up close to the opposite bank. What was more important, his quarters, the large tent behind them serving as a kitchen, his personal carriage and baggage wagons were separated from the rest of the encampment by his bodyguard of Popocatepetl Dragoons’ remuda and bivouac.
Nor had arriving in the immediate vicinity of el Presidente’s headquarters posed any great problems for the intruders. By choosing an area of darkness between the glows of two fires, they had waded unnoticed across the creek and had circled around to approach by what they considered to be the most advantageous route. Having anticipated the presence of sentries, they had kept a careful watch and discovered that one was posted between them and their objective.
There were, Ole Devil and Tommy realized as they studied the sentry, certain factors in their favor. In the first place, the sentry was neglecting his duty. Positioned between the wagons to keep watch for intruders like themselves, he was standing and looking in the opposite direction. His gross dereliction was made worse by the fact that he had leant his carbine against the side of one vehicle so he could bury his hands in the pockets of the cloak he had on. Secondly, disposing of him was made easier because of the way he was dressed. The Dragoons only wore the heavy metal helmets and breastplates when mounted, or if el Presidente wished to impress some important guest he was entertaining. So the man had only a cloak, tunic and thin shirt to protect him.
Advancing with great stealth, Tommy drew his conclusions as to how the removal of the sentry could be achieved. One thing was obvious. Whatever the means employed, it must be done with the minimum of noise.
Only seventy-five yards beyond the inner end of the baggage wagons, completely unaware that two enemies were so near, Santa Anna was entertaining members of his staff to dinner. They were in the well illuminated marquee, gathered around a table laden with food. Although he did not consider his guests sufficiently important to rate the sentries wearing full dress uniforms, the table was covered by a white lace cloth and set with his fine monogrammed china crockery, silver tea—or coffee-pots, sparkling wine glasses and crystal decanters.
Nor, despite the rest of his force being so poorly provided for, did el Presidente seem worried by the possibility of it being seen that he had a far superior standard of provisions; unless he was relying upon the errant sentry to keep off any spectators. The flaps at the center of the side wall nearest to the wagons were drawn back to form a door through which the servants could come and go.
Nearer and ever nearer crept Tommy, blessing the fact that his disguise had called for him to wear moccasins. They allowed him to move even more silently than would have been possible with his Hessian boots. Oblivious of his peril, the sentry continued to gaze enviously at the glow of light and listen to the sounds of cheerful conversation. He was to pay a very high price for his behavior.
Having come close enough, the little Oriental struck with deadly efficiency.
Clasping his left hand over the sentry’s mouth, Tommy succeeded in drawing back the head as well as preventing any outcry. Working with smooth co-ordination, the right fist passed the wakizashi over the man’s shoulder. The turned up collar of the cloak might have been capable of keeping the wind from the back of his neck, but it offered no protection against the attack. Swiftly Tommy’s blade sank into the area at the base of the throat and just above the collarbones which gave access to the windpipe. A quick slash, a spurting of blood and, in a few seconds, it was all over. Nor, apart from a soft scuffling as the stricken sentry struggled briefly and futilely, had there been anything to be heard.
Lowering the lifeless body of the Dragoon to the ground, the little Oriental moved forward a few steps. There was nothing to suggest that the killing had been seen or heard. However, as he gazed through the open flaps of the marquee, he gave a low hiss of annoyance. Although Santa Anna was seated facing the opening, he was practically concealed by two of the men on the nearer side of the table. Dealing with him as had originally been arranged was no longer possible, but Tommy felt confident that the difficulty was far from insurmountable.
Although neither the little Oriental nor Ole Devil had ever heard the word ‘psychology’, they possessed a practical working knowledge of its application. Before leaving on the mission, Tommy had made a selection from the various kinds of Japanese arrows which were with his other property in the Texas Light Cavalry’s baggage train. An expert kyudoka xl he had considered that one fitted with a wata-kusi point would produce the most satisfactory effect.
Studying the situation, Tommy realized that he could not employ a wata-kusi with el Presidente seated in such a manner. However, he had yet another kind of shaft which he believed could solve the dilemma.
While the little Oriental was carrying out his reconnaissance, Ole Devil rolled his victim’s body beneath the left side wagon. Then the Texian took up a position which he hoped would make anybody who happened to look into the dark space assume he was the sentry.
Rejoining his employer, Tommy picked up but did not immediately swing the quiver across his shoulders. Instead, while whispering a description of what he had seen in the marquee, he took an arrow from the right side and laid it carefully on the ground.
‘I’ll have to make them move,’ the little Oriental concluded, extracting the extreme left shaft from the quiver. ‘And this ought to do it.’
‘It ought,’ Ole Devil agreed, having identified the arrow’s type from the shape of its head and knowing its purpose. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘Only one thing,’ Tommy replied, donning the quiver. ‘Make sure that no dishonorable person comes up behind unworthy self before I’ve finished.’
Taking up the bow with his left hand, the little Oriental made it ready for the task he was about to commence. Holding the wata-kusi in his right palm, so that the shaft pointed down at a rearwards angle, he fixed the nock of the second arrow to the string. Then he returned along the gap until he was as near the end as possible without allowing himself to be seen from the marquee or by anybody on either side of the wagons.
Drawing the bow with a technique far different to that employed by Occidental archers, xli Tommy halted the rearwards motion when the hollow point of the forty inches long arrow was almost touching the extended forefinger of his left hand. In the very formalized Zen style of kyudo, hitting the target was considered secondary to the correct movements of the arms, bow, arrow and cloak. So taking sight and loosing could require anything from five to twenty minutes. However, the little Oriental was a practical warrior and not indulging in the placid artistry of Zen. The aim he took, while careful, was swift.
By releasing his hold on the string and the nock of the shaft, Tommy allowed the bow’s powerful flexed limbs to propel the missile forward. Almost immediately, the special function of the hiki-ya point made itself known in no uncertain fashion. In addition to being hollow, the head had holes drilled along its sides like those of a flute. Once it was in flight, the air passing through them acted in the same way as blowing into the mouthpiece of the musical instrument.
One advantage gained by having the handle set two thirds of the way down the stave, as opposed to centrally in the fashion of other countries, was that such a position made it possible for men of comparatively short stature to wield such lengthy and puissant bows. Another was that it allowed an arrow to be dispatched with very flat trajectory over considerable distances. xlii
However, on this occasion, Tommy directed his shaft upwards at a gentle angle and did not make use of the latter quality.
Hearing the rising crescendo of the whistling caused by the air being forced through the hiki-ya’s holes, the men at the table looked around. Before they could discover what was making the eerie noise, the arrow passed over their heads almost too quickly for the human eye to follow. Slitting the canvas, it disappeared out of the marquee’s roof and the sound died away as its pace decelerated until it fell to the ground.
Although used primarily for signaling, the hiki-ya’s banshee-like wailing whistle could also be employed in the hope of producing a disturbing psychological effect upon the enemy.
Tommy’s arrow achieved the secondary function to his entire satisfaction!
Chairs went flying and crockery or glasses were discarded, regardless of their value, as the occupants of the marquee rose hurriedly and in alarm.
None of the party were sure of what had happened, but all sensed that it presaged some kind of danger. Every man’s concern was to find a safe place, rather than trying to discover who—or what—was threatening him. So each adopted his own method of trying to evade whatever further peril might be forthcoming. The erstwhile relaxed and jovial group disintegrated into individual bodies flinging themselves away from the no longer attractive open flaps in the wall.
Displaying the kind of rapid thought and action which had helped bring him to his position of power and authority, Santa Anna wasted neither a second nor a motion when the guests who had been between himself and the unseen menace sprang in opposite directions and left him exposed. Without worrying about the damage he would inflict upon his highly prized property, he overturned the table and flung himself flat on the ground behind it. While the wood was thin and would offer only minimal protection, he was at least hidden from the mysterious assailant’s view.
El Presidente had not taken his evasive action any too soon!
Allowing the second arrow to slip forward through his grasp as soon as the first one was in flight, Tommy nocked it to the string. He was trained to shoot almost as rapidly as the legendary Wasa Daichera, and, although he was under the stresses of being in combat, the conditions were not so exacting as when the great Samurai kyudoka had performed the famous feat at the Sanju-San-Gen Do temple in the city of Kyoto.
In spite of hearing startled shouts rising from the tents occupied by Santa Anna’s bodyguard, and the sounds of sentries raising the alarm from their posts on the other three sides of the marquee, Tommy refused to be flustered. He drew and, changing his point of aim to attain a flat trajectory, loosed the shaft. This time there was only a savage hiss which seemed almost muted when compared with the ear-piercing screech of the hiki-ya. Flying almost parallel to the ground, the arrow struck just above the center of the table which was sheltering el Presidente. It punched through the wood and flew on, but its momentum was so reduced that it was stopped as the three hawk feathers of the fletching struck the canvas of the wall at the back of the marquee.
Pandemonium reigned both outside and within Santa Anna’s quarters, but none of his guests offered to leave and investigate. The protection offered by the striped walls of the tent might be inadequate, but at least it served to keep those inside concealed from the archer in the darkness.
As he saw the first of the sentries run around the end of the marquee, Tommy reached for another arrow. Pure chance rather than deliberate intent made him select another wata-kusi. Clearly a man of quick thought and discernment, the Dragoon started to make for the wagons instead of going to the open flaps to ask for instructions from his superiors.
Once more, without needing to look down, Tommy went through the process of fitting the nock to the string and supporting the shaft of the arrow against the bow’s handle by resting it on the base of his left thumb. By the time he had completed his draw and aim, the sentry was close enough to be able to see him. Skidding to a halt and giving a startled exclamation, the soldier started to raise his carbine.
Forward darted the little Oriental’s arrow. It took the Dragoon in the right breast before he could raise his weapon high enough for use. A scream of agony burst from him as he twirled helplessly round. The arrow had impaled him so thoroughly that only the fletching protruded from the front of his torso and the wata-kusi point extended far behind his back. The carbine slipped from his hands and they clutched spasmodically at the feathered remnant of the missile which was all he could reach. Sprawling to the ground, he lay shrieking and writhing in torment for a few seconds before becoming limp and motionless.
Turning as he was nocking yet a fourth arrow, this time tipped by a yanagi-ha point, Tommy ran back to where Ole Devil was waiting. Unlike the guard whom he had replaced, the Texian was watching his front and holding the Browning in a position of readiness. As his companion approached, he turned his head for the first time and allowed himself a brief, inquiring glance.
‘It worked,’ the little Oriental said, but did not offer any further explanation. Nor did Ole Devil waste time by requesting one. Instead, he set off with Tommy in the direction of the creek. They went so swiftly and silently that nobody noticed them taking their departure. Behind them, all was confusion.
From various points in the encampment, regimental buglers were blowing the call to arms and drummers were helping to sound the alarm.
Men bellowed questions which nobody troubled to answer, or shouted orders that were ignored.
On the picket lines, particularly those of the Popocatapetl Dragoons—who were closest to the disturbance—the startled horses were demanding attention.
Neither of the remaining Dragoons on sentry duty, nor such of the kitchen staff who arrived to investigate, showed the grasp of the situation and the initiative of the man whose diligence had been rewarded by impalement with an arrow, Instead of attempting to seek out the intruders, they did nothing more constructive than congregate at the entrance to the marquee and goggle at the occupants, waiting to be told what to do. No instructions would be given until it was far too late for them to be of any use.
So it was no wonder that Ole Devil and Tommy made good their escape without encountering the slightest difficulty or the need to use their weapons again that night.
But had the mission achieved its purpose?