Shooting For Justice, G. Tilman [best historical fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

The ship offshore was building a head of steam to leave the three crewmen to their fates.

Then, the sleek US Grant Revenue Cutter came around the point at full speed. It veered seaward to intersect the ship. The ship began to run.

The men on the shore saw a waterspout appear off the ship’s port bow. Several seconds later, they heard the concussion.

The Grant had fired a warning shot with one of its twenty-four-pound howitzers. The boat gave no intent of stopping and the next shot took off the smokestack.

The men on the beach cheered, except for the terrified crewmen.

A fire started on the ship. The Grant came alongside and shot heavy streams of water on the ship to quell the flames and save both lives and evidence.

Pope watched through his binoculars, then handed them to Israel. A boarding party was gathering the captain and crew and handcuffing them at gunpoint.

The fire knocked down, the smuggler ship was taken under tow and the cutter pulled it around Golden Gate Point and towards the Port of San Francisco.

US Attorney Bey and his marshals wanted to be there as soon as possible to search the ship and question the captain and crew.

“Sheriff, would you hold these prisoners for me? Don’t question them, just feed them and keep them locked up. I will send the deputies back to pick them up as soon as possible.

“Thank you for your help. Your office will get full credit in our reports and probably the news rags. We will drop off one carriage at the livery before getting on the San Francisco ferry.”

The federal men left and Howell, Lee and the San Francisco officers left in another carriage, also promising to drop it at the livery.

Israel Pope slid his Big Fifty into the bed of the buckboard and grinned at his grandson and the deputies.

“Boys, we saw some action here today unlike any I can think about. The cutter chasing the ship, sending a round across its bow…the fools didn’t stop and the next one hit them in the breadbasket! I’ve never seen such a thing! Don’t suppose I ever will again.”

“Grandpa is right. I’d like to add how proud I was of you today. You upheld the finest tradition of the Marin County Sheriff’s Office. I believe we will find we participated in bringing down a very major smuggling operation. Most use wagons, these people used a ship. A lot of money was behind this. These people will talk. The entry level crooks might not know much, but the captain of the ship sure will. Very few people will go to prison for somebody else. We have only seen the tip of the tail of this cougar.

“Let’s ride into town and dinner is on me. You, too, Grandpa. There are mountain man tales these fellas have not heard yet.”

They rode in. There was a new sheriff in town, and he was stirring things up.

Pope let the US attorney handle his case, and his deputies and Howell did the interrogations and deal making.

The sheriff was happy to read in the San Francisco Chronicle about the case as it developed. The US attorney was clearly politicking. He brought some others he thought might be helpful along. One was Pope. Pope got a lot of press, mostly good.

The case proved to be one of the most major drug cases in California history up to then. The number of arrests and crime families put out of business was surprising even to Pope and Detective Lieutenant Howell. It was gratifying to them it was across all ethnic lines.

Out of the whole thing, Pope’s and Israel’s favorite thing was the ship pursuit and the firing of the big guns to stop the pursuit. Pope was glad his office got credit for identifying the case and making crucial arrests. He truly did not care about more credit for himself. Until his grandfather reminded him of an election in two years.

Tevis at Wells Fargo organized a congratulatory dinner for the arrest and prosecution of Black Bart. Sarah was invited since she had found the crucial piece of evidence and was there with Morse for the arrest.

Pope was a tagalong guest at the event, at what was apparently Tevis’ favorite place, the Bohemian Club.

“John, I know you don’t like him. I don’t either. But you have the handsome tuxedo from Washington, and I have the blue dress you seemed to like. I have to go. You ought to go to support me. Besides, as Israel lectured you at dinner, every time you get in the paper as a hero helps your re-election. We have to start campaigning now. We cannot wait for six weeks before the ballot boxes open to do it.”

“Honey, are you finished? I was planning to go anyway. Hume said Tevis was going to say something about us in Washington and I should be there to take a bow when you curtsy. Or whatever you are going to do while they are clapping.”

She punched him in the shoulder. She had not done it for a while. He thought she must have been saving energy for a big one. At least he did not have a bullet wound like last time.

His big mistake was thinking these thoughts aloud.

My wife can be so damn volatile! he thought. At least silently this time as he rubbed his shoulder from the second punch.

Sarah booked a room at the Palace Hotel on Market Street for them by telegram from the office.

They went to the gala. Sarah was seated at the head table. Pope, who had nothing to do with the Black Bart capture was seated with strangers at a table near the front.

Tevis welcomed everyone and dinner was served. After, he stood and spoke for forty minutes, crediting Hume and Sarah and giving Harry Morse much less credit than he deserved. In speaking glowingly of Sarah, he mentioned her husband, a former Wells Fargo detective had recently been involved in breaking