150 Years Ago

[Sgt. Howard]

"Mr. Billens, I don't 'spose a fella could get a bit of relief here?" Cornelius softly asked.
"Corporal Austin, take the prisoner to the bivy, if you would be so kind..."
Austin looked a bit put off, but rose and unshackled the lock that attached him to the post. Cornelius slowly got up and started the shuffling process to the door. Austin followed, moving as fast as Cornelius's shackled feet would allow.
About halfway there, the Corporal noticed that Cornelius was glancing at him on occasion with a thoughtful look... it wasn't long before it got under his skin.
"Alright!" he growled, "What is it that has you looking at me, Johnny Reb?"
Cornelius acted as if caught in the act, then softly said, "Prolly ain't none of mah concern," as he continued to the privy.
"Out with it, damn you! What's on your mind?"
Now at the door, Cornelius opened it, paused, looked at Austin and said,
"Juss wondrin' how long you gonna let Dashnois wipe his ass with your stripes,"
Then he closed the door.

[lake_wrangler]

I've been loving this, as usual, but one thing is bothering me...

Are you sure you mean "bivy", and not "privy"?

Bivy, short for bivouac:

1. (Military) a temporary encampment with few facilities, as used by soldiers, mountaineers, etc
vb, -acs, -acking or -acked
2. (Military) (intr) to make such an encampment

Also, a bivouac sack (aka bivy), which is a piece of modern (minimalist) camping equipment.

On the other hand, a privy can mean:
"a : a small building having a bench with holes through which the user may defecate or urinate
b toilet"


Meanwhile, the plot, it thickens...
Who is this mysterious mercenary, ready to take a human's life for money?
Will he be successful? (The astute reader already knows the answer to that one...)
How much of a mess will he create in his attempt to snuff a life?
Will Cornelius' comment truly get under Austin's skin?
Will Austin fall for it, and go after Dashnois, or will he try to muffle Cornelius, instead?
How difficult will escaping be, for Cornelius?

But, first and foremost:
What about Naomi?

[jwhouk]

"Privy" is probably more familiar a term here - something akin to why some call it soda, and others pop, and Southerners call it "Coooo-ke."

---
Austin grand in his god's son
Hatch's land is the only one
Hough's son's son makes his father work
Dashy's kids helps him play
But it's Oscar who saves the day
And Gaily he keeps it that way

She closed the book. It's getting harder to remember things, the closer we get this time around, she thought to herself.

Unfortunately, I have no idea where the other two are hidden. And Tepoz is nowhere to be found.

She looked at clock in the town square of Parkersburg.

"There better be no delays this time," she said to no one in particular.

She put the book away in her satchel for safe keeping, only glancing at the ancient Mayan inscription of the Sunstone on the cover.

[lake_wrangler]

Part of me figured at least you, Lake, would be able to give me the proper French translation.

Who, moi?
*whistles innocently*

I don't trust Google translate for 100% of the common translations on the web.

Good for you!

I needed something for the "But ma, I don't wanna get up yet" joke.

I figured as much. It came through, but only limping along...

Fun fact of the day: there is a large French influence in the Fox Cities area. This is because French explorers were the first to colonize what is now Green Bay.

While I had not specifically though about it, it makes sense... The first name that popped into my mind was Père Marquette, who did indeed travel by Green Bay. However, reading his page on Wikipedia, I now realize that Green Bay was already settled, by then, having been founded by Jean Nicolet, many years prior...

[Sgt. Howard]

I've been loving this, as usual, but one thing is bothering me...

Are you sure you mean "bivy", and not "privy"?

Bivy, short for bivouac:

1. (Military) a temporary encampment with few facilities, as used by soldiers, mountaineers, etc
vb, -acs, -acking or -acked
2. (Military) (intr) to make such an encampment

Also, a bivouac sack (aka bivy), which is a piece of modern (minimalist) camping equipment.

On the other hand, a privy can mean:
"a : a small building having a bench with holes through which the user may defecate or urinate
b toilet"


Meanwhile, the plot, it thickens...
Who is this mysterious mercenary, ready to take a human's life for money?
Will he be successful? (The astute reader already knows the answer to that one...)
How much of a mess will he create in his attempt to snuff a life?
Will Cornelius' comment truly get under Austin's skin?
Will Austin fall for it, and go after Dashnois, or will he try to muffle Cornelius, instead?
How difficult will escaping be, for Cornelius?

But, first and foremost:
What about Naomi?

'Bivy' and 'Privy' at this time in American history are interchangeable- they are used both North and South. Regarding how much of a mess our mercenary will create, I am daintily sculpting the mass with a backhoe.

And Naomi? She' at her Mother's in St. Augustine Florida, looking for a rich widower....

[lake_wrangler]

'Bivy' and 'Privy' at this time in American history are interchangeable- they are used both North and South.

Neat. I had no idea. Nice to see you researched the material...

Regarding how much of a mess our mercenary will create, I am daintily sculpting the mass with a backhoe.

Looking forward to it.

And Naomi? She' at her Mother's in St. Augustine Florida, looking for a rich widower....

Ah. good luck to her, then.

[Sgt. Howard]

The Corporal took up the chains... the idea of shackling himself to a man that can only shuffle made no sense... and took him back to the cabin with the others. Cornelius noticed the young man's face was rather sullen... he acted as though he didn't see it. Half-way there, Austin stopped him and turned him face to face with himself.
"What was your rank?"
Cornelius smiled, "I was actually a first Sergeant o' Cavalry- why d'you ask?"
"You've... you've handled men like Dashnois... how do you do it?"
"They didn' teach ya? I have to say, I am surprised... it's actually quite simple. You need to whup his ass,"
The boy's face paled... "Uh... that might be a problem..."
"Well, yea, I thought so... you've no conf'dens in y'self, an' he SEES that... y'need t' provoke him an' whup him,"
"But..."
"Now looky here- all you're seein' is yer own scrawniness an' his pile... I've seen smaller jacks than you whup bigger lumps 'an him. He's used to his SIZE winnin' his fights- he don't do much thinkin' when he fights, he don't know how. Put yer eyes outta focus- look at me an' let yer eyes go fuzzy... now go on, do it, just do it,"
He did... and felt incredibly silly.
"Now, look at my eyes, but see EVERYTHING..."
"Huh?"
"Just... look into my eyes with yer eyes all fuzzy, an' see everything around me... no, don't move yer eyes, tha tells me whatcher lookin' at... juss look into my eyes, but let th' REST of yer eyeball go lookin' as well,"
He did... and the world opened up for him. He saw the doors on either side of the gangway. He saw the crack in the ceiling. He saw the mouse scurry out and then duck for cover.
"WOW!"- Cornelius grinned at his exclamation- "But... how does this help me?"
"You will see his punch before it happens... you will be able t' block or dodge. Spend a little time learning this b'fore you whup him, make sure you can do it every time- NEVER hit him in th' jaw or mouth- never works good. Aim fer th' nose... an'... there's a spot right unner the middle o' th' ribs, right here " he touched Austin at the solar plexis, "where y' can stop his breathin' iffen y' pop it hard enough- gotta be quick there,"
The boy soaked up as much as he could of the prisoner's teachings.. "... thank you..." he finally muttered.
As he shuffled back to the cabin, Cornelius thought to himself,
"Heh... this ought to be good...."

[jwhouk]

Right after Austin left with "Younger", Billens stepped outside into the hall while Dashnois snuck into the bunk for something. Hough had been perusing a copy of the Cincinnati Gazette, while Hatch opened the shade for the one window in their suite.

It was right after Hatch had done this that Watts saw it. On the bed, where Cornelius had been sitting, was some shiny object. Oscar got up and moved the sheets a bit - and saw it immediately.

He picked it up carefully. Having worked in his dad's shoemaking shop, he knew what it was: a file. Or, at least the piece of one. His father had used them on particularly tough pieces of leather, so he could even out the rough surfaces of the soles of the shoes and boots he was repairing.

And, from the filings he saw in the blanket, it looked like it'd been used for another purpose as of late.

"Hey, Hatch," he said, motioning to the other solider. "Help me with this blanket, will you?"

"What?" Hatch looked down, but couldn't see the filings on the bed. "There bugs or somethin' on it?"

"I think our Mister Younger might have been playing with his chains a bit," Oscar observed. "Let's see if we can get new blankets for..."

That was when the ship lurched for a moment. Oscar found himself tumbling head-first into the wall...

...and everything faded to black.

[Sgt. Howard]

'Edward Tanner' had been lingering just outside the cabin door, where he could hear conversation- having seen how long trips to the privy take, he had gone to the engine room the moment he heard the request and loosed the connection pin to the Stevenson's gear of the Port cylinder- it was in an area that the 'Snipes' would not traffic unless something went wrong. From prior usage of this technique, he knew about how long it would take to work complexly loose- he then returned to the gangway. His little bit of sabotage seemed to take longer than expected- but fortunately his quarry and escort stopped midway for a conversation. Both were oblivious to his presence when the sudden lurch from the paddlewheel locking up threw them both off balance.
'Tanner' pounced on Austin and rendered him unconscious with a rag soaked in ether- throwing the rag away, he pulled his stiletto- only to find 'Younger' uncuffed and awaiting his next move! He glanced down to see the chains and manacles sprawled on the deck- then realized that the warnings he had been given about the man were true. With his left hand, he groped for the pepperbox stowed in a home-made shoulder rig that was set up for the right hand. He pulled it out just in time to see it disappear to the deck and his hand go numb and start bleeding. Next his stiletto snapped out of his right hand and lodged overhead in the ceiling- now his right hand was injured, stunned. Looking up, he saw that 'Younger' had the chains in hand and had them swinging in a circle, pulling a figure eight from left to right.

The gig was up!

He spun around to run, just as Dashnois burst out of the sleep cabin to see what was going on- the resulting collision resembled a ball bouncing off a wall.
"HE'S GONE MAD!!!" 'Tanner' screamed in Dashnois' face before he bolted up the stairs. Dashnois only paid him enough attention to hear what he said-then he saw the corporal on the deck, a pistol right beside him, a fancy fighting knife stuck in the ceiling and 'Younger', uncuffed, swinging the very manacles that held him.
"Well, well, well," he said as he cracked his knuckles, "This just ain't your day,"

[Jharris16-17]

This Should be very Interesting. Funny and very intense. To bad it will probably be short unless 'Younger' decides to play with Dashnois.

[lake_wrangler]

I've been meaning to ask: do you pronounce it Dash-noy (like the Illinois conversation that came around, recently), or Dash-nwah?

[Sgt. Howard]

"I suppose you've got some fancy words to say right about now," Dashnois crooned as he approached the prisoner.
"No," 'Younger' replied, " I've noticed I've got t' use simple words iffin' I'm t' tell YOU anything, on account yer as stupid as a cow,"
Dashnois roared with anger as he charged 'Younger', grabbing the chains from him with his left hand and swinging a right hook as his face- 'Younger' swept the hook aside and allowed it to smash into the far wall, splintering the tongue-in-groove paneling and doing remarkable harm to Dashnois' right hand. Dashnois gave a howl of pain while 'Younger' sized up the next move... he had no intention of striking the man except as a defensive move.
He wasn't long in waiting- Dashnois shot out his left hand to grasp the prisoner, which 'Younger' easily dodged, grasping the offending arm and twisting it to curl it behind the big man's back where he essentially had his 'captor' held 'captive'-
"LET GO OF ME!!!" bellowed Dashnois.
"Teach yer Gamma t' suck eggs!!" replied 'Younger'.
"YOU DAMN SESSIONIST!! I'LL... I'LL..."
"You'll stand there and make noise? Well, NOW I'm terrified..."
"DAMN!!! THAT'S IT!! I'LL..." he just remembered the belt, the one around his waist, that held a left cross-draw cavalry holster, that ... was empty...
"Huh?" he wondered out loud- right behind his right ear, came the four clicks that spelled "C-O-L-T" as the hammer was drawn to full cock- he felt the muzzle prod the base of his skull on that side.

"Are you looking fer this?" 'Younger' asked him.

[Sgt. Howard]

I've been meaning to ask: do you pronounce it Dash-noy (like the Illinois conversation that came around, recently), or Dash-nwah?

In this country, you can expect any amount of damage done to French- but I believe dashNWA to be correct
During this war, troops on both sides used the 'Minni ball' as a projectile- pronounced the same as the female mouse. It is, actually minYAY. In WWII our troops carried the Garand rifle- pronounced GARant, in actual French. Very few know that the greatest battle rifle of all time was invented by a French Canadian, just as the projectile that threw Napoleonic tactics onto the dustbin of history was invented by a French Ordinance officer.

[lake_wrangler]

I've been meaning to ask: do you pronounce it Dash-noy (like the Illinois conversation that came around, recently), or Dash-nwah?

In this country, you can expect any amount of damage done to French-

Yeah, I noticed that trend, a while back...

but I believe dashNWA to be correct

Thank you for the clarification. When I read something, I kinda "hear" it in my head, and it's nice to know you're "hearing" it the way it was intended to be "heard"...

[jwhouk]

And as I look further into things, Dashnois is probably Belgian stock.

Don't mind me, I'm takin' a nap right about now...

[Sgt. Howard]

I woulda figured part Clydesdale... no, wait- they're fairly smart...

[jwhouk]

---

"Dietzel!" the woman said when she saw the dog running towards her. She kneeled down and squeezed him tight. "What were you doing wandering around? You could have been hurt or worse!"

She looked up at me.

"Thank you ever so much for bringing him back," she said. "What do I owe you?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," I said. "I consider it my good deed for the day." I reached down and extended my hand. "Joseph Houk, at your service."

She rose up slowly and accepted my hand, scooting Dietzel into the house.

"Monica Villareal," she said – and immediately tilted her head a bit. "Boy, you're short." I laughed when she said that.

"I'm taller than you, though," I said, making a motion that cleared my hand about four inches over her head. She gave me a silly look and then a serious expression.

"Really, I should give you something for your kindness. Let me look in my purse... oh, come on in, it's not all that dirty in here," she said, motioning me to step into her house.

He stepped into the house... and it faded into what looked like a storm cellar, or basement.

YOU CAN SEE ME JUST FINE CAN'T YOU...

The little girl from the train station in Nashville was standing there again.

"You IDIOT. Yer s'posed to get him to DC in one piece! If you don't do something he's gonna go in a BUNCHA pieces!"

"What?" he said. She did her unnerving melting act again. Then the cellar faded away into a large field - one that looked a bit like what he imagined Gettysburg had been before the battle.

Two men stood there, one next to a horse. They each had on armor - but they were two different kinds. He thought he recognized the one from that book his momma gave him; the Iliad? The other one... looked like Cornelius.

"There's a spy on board," the one from the book stated.

"He's probably here for me," Cornelius stated. "I'll need your help. All of you."

The horse reared back.

"I'll do what I can," the horse spoke - SPOKE??? And plodded off at a powerful gait.

"A spy?" he asked - suddenly, his head started to hurt. He found himself on his knees. "But how, why..."

A hand touched his back.

"Make sure I see him again, dear," came the voice. He looked up in pain. It was the sphinx. "Go help him."

He came to with a loud yell.

"PHIX!"

[Sgt. Howard]

Cornelius heard the name of his beloved from the sleeping cabin- then Hatch burst out of the cabin where he had been chained this whole trip yelling,
"Austin! Watts' been knocked out by the wall...GREAT DAY IN THE MORNING!!! PRISONER ESCAPE!!! PRISONER ESCAPE!!!"
The scene of Austin on the deck, Dashnois held at gunpoint and 'Younger' free of his chains sent the young private into a complete panic. He pawed at his holster with both hands, yanking out the ponderous revolver by pure effort alone, nearly dropping it twice and at one time having it pointed directly at his own face. Finally, shaking with adrenalin, he pointed it at 'Younger' (more or less) and told him, "DROP...THE...GUN!"
Hough poked his head out and saw the scene as described- he actually drew his weapon in a fashion that showed some ability, having practiced the move time and time again, and leveled it, hesitantly at 'Younger'... who was not much of an offered target, standing behind Dashnois.
The big private was beginning to shake- his messmates were actually more terrifying than the prisoner, as HE at least knew what he was doing. Besides, for the number of slights that he had dealt these two, claiming an 'honest mistake' as a defense might actually fly should either one of them drill Dashnois instead of the prisoner.
Cornelius now heard several doors opening and quite a bit of foot traffic behind him- risking a glance, he saw that the occupants of this particular set of cabins had wandered out to investigate the commotion-
"GET BACK IN YER CABINS 'TILL WE SORT THIS OUT!!! YER IN TH' LINE OF FIRE!!!" he bellowed.
Several feet shuffled back, doors closed, but one irritated female voice asked, "Are you talking to ME, young man?"
""NO LADY! I'M TALKING TO THE MONKEY HIDING IN YOUR HOOPSKIRT!!! GET IN YOUR CABIN!!!"
Once the gangway was cleared, Cornelius turned his attention back to his captors. Just then, a groggy Oscar Watts stepped out into the fray. In shirt and suspenders, no weapon on him, a MAJOR lump on his head, he looked at the situation- then he wrinkled his nose and called out, "NOBODY SHOOT!!!"
"Good idea," muttered Dashnois.
"Wha.. no, I can hit him," Hough stated flatly.
"Can't you smell it?!? Where is it coming from?" Watts asked.
"The rag over there- yer Corporal got jumped by some feller tryin' t' kill me,"
"The man who said you'd gone mad?" Dashnois interjected.
"That was him- and you won't find him now, search as you might," Cornelius said, "he used ether- your Corporal will be tossing his biscuits when he comes to. Anybody fires a shot, the explosion won't be pleasant,"
Dashnois registered a thought- "You knew you couldn't shoot me- it was a bluff,"
"Yea, but I had to get your attention... and I can still break your arm. I did no harm to your Corporal- there's a spy on board who's job is to silence me,"
"What makes you think we can't find him?" Dashnois asked.
"You won't recognize him,"
"I LOOKED HIM DEAD IN THE FACE!"
"...and didn't notice the fake beard and wig? No, you won't find him,"
Behind him, Cornelius heard... no, actually FELT, the footsteps of someone approaching. He noticed the others looking at the new comer in complete awe. He risked a glance.
The man dwarfed Dashnois. He filled the gangway. He placed one hand on Cornelius' shoulder and wrapped the other around the Dragoon pistol, making it look like a child's toy. Cornelius released Dashnois, the latter turning to see his benefactor... he backed away, wide eyed and wordlessly. About this time, Billens came down the stairway, assessing the situation- "Why, Ebbie- so good to see you, Sir... I trust there's been no trouble?"
"Hmf!" snorted Ebbie, "YOU call it 'TROUBLE'- I call it 'SPORT'!"

[jwhouk]

"Gentlemen," Billens said, picking up the chains and promptly binding 'Younger', making sure the locks were tighter this time. "This is my former cohort in the Marshall service, Mistah Ebenezer C. Alexander. He has since moved on to work for Mister Pinkerton's Agency instead."

"Better pay and less rules to play by," he grunted. The cylinder of the gun taken from Younger's hand had been smashed to pieces. "Who's this belong to?" Dashnois raised his hand weakly.

"Need to be more careful about how you carry these, son." He handed it back to the still bewildered private. "Uh, you want to tell your other chargees thayuh to stand down?" He motioned in the direction of Hatch and Hough. "I don' particularly like havin' to pick out buckshot from mah hide."

"Stand down, boys," Billens said, putting the lock back on the chains – this time in a spot not easily reached by Younger's hands. He looked at the four privates. "Drag your corporal there back in the suite. I'll call for some water to help revive him."

The soldiers did as they were told – though Watts was still a bit woozy from the knot in his head. Billens couldn't quite hear it, but he thought he heard him mumbling something about a "Dietzel."

"That one boy might need some ice, too," Younger said – only to get a smack on the cheek from Ebbie.

"Quiet, kid," he said. "You don't want to make me angry, trust me."

"This happens to be Agent Alexander's bailiwick," Billens said in sotto voce. "Technically, he's in charge of this boat, despite the Marshalls bein' in charge of this nation your friends have so valiantly tried to wreck over the last four years." He looked the prisoner in the eye. "And you're not the only one keepin' secrets that shouldn't be known on this boat, Cornelius."

His eyes widened at the use of the name again. "Tain't used that in a great while," he dismissed the charge.

"Oh, so this is the centurion you told be about?" Ebbie said quietly. "Jin will be happy to see you corralled him – for a change."

"Weren't looking for him until recently," Billens replied. "C'mon, Mister Younger. Before Alexander mistakes your hair for hay."

"Hey now, that was accidental," Ebbie protested mildly.

Cornelius was bewildered as he was led back into the room by the Marshall.

"Oh, and Billens?" Marshall and captive stopped. "You might want to use one of these instead. I've got the only key with me." He tossed him an opened padlock.

Billens smiled. Younger didn't.

[Warrl]

I've been meaning to ask: do you pronounce it Dash-noy (like the Illinois conversation that came around, recently), or Dash-nwah?

In this country, you can expect any amount of damage done to French-

Yeah, I noticed that trend, a while back...

Try setting your GPS to speak with an Australian accent, and then getting directions to somewhere in southern Louisiana...