Read MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy Online
Authors: William W. Johnstone,J. A. Johnstone
Tags: #Fiction, #Westerns, #General
MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy (23 page)
Chapter Twenty-three
New York—Castle Garden Immigration
The steamship
Neckar
was built by Caird & Co, Greenock, Scotland, for the White Star Lines, and was launched on the 11th of October 1873. It displaced 3,122 tons; had a straight bow, 1 funnel, 2 masts; iron construction, and screw propulsion. The service speed was 16 knots, and the ship had accommodations for 144 passengers in first class, 68 in second class, and 502 in steerage. Angus Somerled, who was no longer the sheriff of Argyll-shire County, took his passage in second class, which lacked some of the amenities of first class, but was far superior to steerage, wherein the passengers were loaded like cattle.
Neckar
was built by Caird & Co, Greenock, Scotland, for the White Star Lines, and was launched on the 11th of October 1873. It displaced 3,122 tons; had a straight bow, 1 funnel, 2 masts; iron construction, and screw propulsion. The service speed was 16 knots, and the ship had accommodations for 144 passengers in first class, 68 in second class, and 502 in steerage. Angus Somerled, who was no longer the sheriff of Argyll-shire County, took his passage in second class, which lacked some of the amenities of first class, but was far superior to steerage, wherein the passengers were loaded like cattle.
After two weeks in transit, the
Neckar
was met by two tugboats that nudged the big ship into anchorage at an island off the southwest tip of Manhattan Island. His first view of the United States was a huge round building, so large that nothing could be seen beyond it. This was Castle Garden, and as he followed the other passengers down the gangplank, he saw that the roped-off walkway led all the passengers through a great double door over which hung the sign:
UNITED STATES IMMIGRATION
.
Neckar
was met by two tugboats that nudged the big ship into anchorage at an island off the southwest tip of Manhattan Island. His first view of the United States was a huge round building, so large that nothing could be seen beyond it. This was Castle Garden, and as he followed the other passengers down the gangplank, he saw that the roped-off walkway led all the passengers through a great double door over which hung the sign:
UNITED STATES IMMIGRATION
.
Once inside, to Somerled’s annoyance, there was an area marked specifically for first-class passengers. The remaining area had a sign that said:
SECOND CLASS AND STEERAGE
.
SECOND CLASS AND STEERAGE
.
Somerled greatly resented being herded in with all the steerage passengers, many of whom had not bathed for the two weeks onboard the ship and now smelled of vomit and body odor. No doubt the vermin were coming to America, certain that they would find fame and fortune in the new country. Somerled wanted to tell them that if they were paupers in Europe, they would be paupers in America.
A small boy, clutching the hand of his mother, whose face was drawn and tired from two weeks in steerage, was looking at Somerled.
“Boy, what are you staring at?” Somerled barked in a voice that was more severe than normal because of his frustration over being processed with the unwashed minions of steerage.
Tears sprang to the boy’s eyes and he turned toward his mother, wrapping his arms around her leg and burying his face in her gray, shapeless dress.
“Sir, I’m sure he meant no harm. He is just a young child.”
“Teach him some manners,” Somerled said, roughly.
A moment later, Somerled was in customs and his luggage was being gone through. The customs officer saw a pistol, and looked up at Somerled.
“I don’t know what you have read, sir, but not all Americans are Wild West cowboys. And most of those who do own guns do not carry them.”
“I’ve no intention of carryin’ the weapon,” Somerled said, though his response was a lie. He had every intention of carrying his pistol.
The customs officer nodded, then searched through the rest of the luggage to make certain Somerled was not bringing anything into the country that might violate customs or require a tax. After customs, the immigrants were sent to various areas for processing, depending upon their language.
Somerled stood in line at the
ENGLISH ONLY
counter until he reached the front.
ENGLISH ONLY
counter until he reached the front.
“Your name?”
“Somerled. Angus Somerled.”
“John, this one is for you. Another Irishman,” the clerk called to one of the other men.
“I’ll have you know, sir, that I am not Irish,” Somerled said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I am Scot.”
“Irish, Scot, it is all the same to me,” the clerk said. “I handle only people from England. Mr. Patterson will take care of you.”
Somerled moved over to the next space, where a man wearing a green visor looked up at him.
“Where are you from?”
“Scotland, Donuun in Argyllshire.”
“Were you gainfully employed while you were in Scotland?”
“Aye, and was a man of respect, too.”
“What was your occupation there?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“We can’t have people in our country who are unable to take care of themselves. We have to know that you can find gainful employment.”
“I was the sheriff.”
“Ah. Well, we have a lot of Irish in the police force. I suppose you could get a job there.”
“I don’t intend to stay here. I am in pursuit of a criminal who fled to the United States.”
“What is the criminal’s name? If he came through Castle Garden, perhaps we will have a record of him.”
“His name is Duff MacCallister.”
“Did he come this year?”
“Aye. ’Twas near three months ago now.”
The clerk turned the pages in the large ledger book and ran his fingers down a list of names. Finally he shook his head.
“I’ve no record of him coming through here.”
“’Tis my thinking that he would not have come through here.”
“That’s impossible. If he came to America, he had to come through here.”
“Do all ships stop here?”
“All ships that come to New York do. That is, all passenger ships. There is no such requirement for merchant vessels.”
“What is Colorado?” Somerled asked.
“Do you mean where is Colorado?”
“Where and what? Is it a city?”
The immigration clerk laughed. “You people come to America and you know nothing about us. Colorado is a state. It is in the western part of America, many miles from here.”
“How would one go about getting there?”
“Well, you don’t just go to a state. You must choose a town or city within the state. For example, Denver.”
“Denver is in Colorado?”
“It is.”
“What sort of conveyance goes to Denver? Does one reach it by boat?”
“Ha! One would have a most difficult time reaching it by boat,” the clerk said. “Seeing as there is no water that goes there.”
“Then how does one reach it?”
“By train, of course. Unless you want to go by wagon or coach, but if you choose to go that way, you will be an awfully long time in transit. Your best move would be to go to Grand Central Station and secure your tickets there.”
“Tickets?” Somerled asked. “You mean I must purchase more than one ticket?”
“Yes. There isn’t one train line that makes the entire trip, so you will have to purchase tickets for every train. But you can buy all you need at Grand Central, which will give you a ticket on every rail service between here and Denver.”
“Thank you.”
“Next,” the clerk called.
Cheyenne
In order to more closely examine the bank, Rab Malcolm stepped up to the teller’s window with five hundred and fifty-seven dollars in his hand, which was all the money he had remaining from the amount that had been sent to him by Somerled.
“Yes, sir?” the teller said, smiling obsequiously at him.
“My good man, I should like to make a deposit in your bank.” Malcolm had never in his life used the term “my good man,” but he had heard some of the wealthier lairds use it, and he thought that it, along with his natural accent, would impress the teller.
“Yes, sir, we would be glad to open an account for you,” the teller replied. He pulled a book of forms over to him, picked up a pen and started to write. “What is your name, sir?”
“The name is Malcolm. Rab Malcolm.” Almost as soon as Malcolm told him his name, he realized that he should not have given it. But he was not known here, so it might be all right. It wasn’t something he was going to worry about.
“And how much money do you wish to deposit?”
“Here, let’s not be in such a hurry,” Malcolm said.
The teller looked up from the book of deposit slips with a questioning expression.
“I beg your pardon, sir? Is something wrong?”
“How safe is this bank? What I’m asking is, suppose I put my money in here and someone robs the bank?”
The bank teller laughed. “Oh, sir, I assure you, you will never have to worry about anything like that happening.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Mr. Snellgrove?” the teller called.
A rather rotund man with a bald head, round face, pudgy nose, and eyes enlarged by the glasses he was wearing looked up at the call. Like the bank teller, he was wearing a three-piece suit.
“Yes, Mr. Lisenby?” Snellgrove asked.
“This gentleman wants to make a deposit with us.”
“Very good,” Snellgrove said. “I am sure you will be pleased with our bank, sir. All of our customers are.”
“I’d like you to show me around,” Malcolm said. “I want to see just how safe my money would be in here.”
“Oh, it will be quite safe, I assure you.”
“Aye, but I’m from Scotland, and if you know anythin’ about we Scots, it is that we are very frugal people with our money. Could you show me some of the features that you say will keep my money safe?”
“I would be glad to. Suppose you step back here,” Snellgrove invited as he reached down and released a latch that opened the Dutch door to allow Malcolm access to the back part of the bank. “Right this way.”
Snellgrove led Malcolm to the side, where sat a very large, heavy-looking, steel safe.
“It is called an American Standard,” Snellgrove explained, standing proudly in front of the big safe. The heavy door was painted light green, while the trim and lettering were in gold. “The door is four-inch-thick steel, and it is locked by four steel bars, each two inches in diameter. In addition, the tumblers are absolutely silent so that no one can pick the lock.”
“Could one breach the door with dynamite?” Malcolm asked.
Snellgrove laughed. “If someone attempted to blast the vault open with dynamite all they would do is destroy the building. The safe would remain impervious.”
“That must be a very strong safe,” Malcolm said.
“It has to be strong,” Snellgrove replied. “As of this morning we have on deposit.” He paused and called over to Lisenby, “Exactly how much money do we have?”
“Eighteen thousand, nine hundred, twenty-seven dollars, and forty-six cents,” Lisenby replied with a smirk of pride that he could quote to the penny the amount of money deposited with the Cheyenne Cattlemen’s Bank and Trust.
“That’s a lot of money,” Malcolm said.
“Yes, it is. And now, how much money will you be depositing with us?” Snellgrove asked.
“I don’t know, I need to think this over for a while,” Malcolm replied.
Snellgrove smiled. “Very well, Mister—uh—I don’t think I heard your name.”
“Malcolm,” Lisenby said. “His name is Rab Malcolm.”
“Mr. Malcolm, once you consider the security of our bank, I’m sure you will wish to become a customer,” Snellgrove said.
“Thank you for the information,” Malcolm said. “I will make my decision shortly as to whether or not I will entrust my funds to your establishment.”
Sky Meadow
Duff and Falcon had been working the mine for three days, and though they had not made a significant find, they had found enough color in the tailings to make their effort worthwhile. Last night, examining the nuggets they had recovered, Falcon estimated that they had at least one hundred dollars’ worth of gold.
“If we keep getting these results, you will get enough money to build your herd,” Falcon said.
“Aye, and that is my intention,” Duff replied.
The creature that had appeared on their first day in the mine did not reappear until late on their third day. This time, though, they were ready because they heard it when something hit the tripwire causing the empty tin cans to rattle.
“Did you hear?” Falcon asked.
“Aye.”
“Get ready.”
Duff picked up the lantern and moved it about fifty feet back toward the entrance. Doing so left them in the dark, but that was part of their plan. Falcon had a looped rope ready, and when the creature passed them, Falcon stepped out behind, then threw the rope out in a wide loop. The loop fell down over the creature and Falcon jerked the rope back, tightening the loop, which had the effect of securing the creature’s arms by its side.
The creature let out a bloodcurdling scream as Duff leaped out behind him to knock him down. The creature struggled, but Duff and Falcon were too strong, and within a moment Falcon had looped the rope around him enough times to have both his arms and legs restricted. The creature continued to scream for the whole time.
“Get the lantern, Duff, let’s see what we have here,” Falcon said.
Duff hurried back to get the lantern. Then he returned and held it up as Falcon turned the creature over.
“I’ll be. It’s a man,” Falcon said.
The man’s hair hung down to his waist and he had a full beard. He was wearing clothes made of wolf skin and his fingernails were long and curled.
“Of course, I’m a man! What did you think I would be?” the man replied in a gravelly voice. “Turn me loose!”
“So you can try to kill us again?” Falcon asked.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to kill you. I was tryin’ to scare you away.”
“Like the three men you killed?”
“I only kilt two.”
“There were three, Elmer Gleason, Lonnie Post, and Sam Hodges.”
“Is that what their names was? They never told me.”
“Why did you kill them?”
“I kilt ’em ’cause they tried to kill me. They wanted me to show ’em where the gold was, and when I wouldn’t do it, they pointed a gun at me and said they was goin’ to shoot me. I got away from ’em, and when they come after me, I kilt ’em. Then I dragged their bodies outside as a warnin’ to anyone else as might come around.”
“What about Elmer Gleason? Did he try to kill you, too?”
The man laughed, a high-pitched, insane cackling laugh. Then he stopped laughing and stared at Duff and Falcon, his eyes gleaming in the light of the lantern. “What are you doin’ here?” he asked. “You got no right in here. This is my home.”
“Sure’n you aren’t for sayin’ you live here, in this mine, are you?” Duff asked.
“Yes, I am a-sayin’ that. Now I want you to turn me a’ loose and get out of here.”
“How do you live? What do you eat? What do you drink?” Falcon asked.
“Bugs, rabbits when I can catch ’em, such wild plants as can be et. And they’s a pool of water back a-ways.”
“What is your name?” Duff asked.
The man laughed again, the same, high-pitched insane laugh as before. “You already know my name. You done said it.”
“What do you mean we’ve already said it?”
“I’m the feller I didn’t kill.”
“Mister, you’ve been in this mine too long,” Falcon said. “You aren’t making any sense at all. What do you mean, you are the man you didn’t kill?”
“Wait a minute,” Duff said. “I think I know what he means. Are you trying to tell us that you are Elmer Gleason?”
“I ain’t tryin’ to tell you nothin’, sonny,” he said. He laughed again. “I’m a’ doin’ it. I am Elmer Gleason.”
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