Lake Superior Tales E-Book

Mikel B. Classen

• Herausgeber: Modern History Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 219

Beschreibung

Join us for epic adventures in the U.P. on land and lakes!
Pirates, thieves, shipwrecks, sexy women, lost gold, and adventures on the Lake Superior frontier await you! In this book, you'll sail on a ship full of gold, outwit deadly shapeshifters, battle frontier outlaws and even meet the mysterious agent that Andrew Jackson called "the meanest man" he ever knew. Packed with action, adventure, humor, and suspense, this book has something for every reader. Journey to the wilds of the Lake Superior shoreline through ten stories that span the 19th century through present day including "The Wreck of the Marie Jenny," "The Bigg Man," "Wolf Killer," and "Bullets Shine Silver in the Moonlight."
Mikel B. Classen is a longtime resident of Sault Sainte Marie in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. His intimacy of the region, the history and its culture gives this book a feel of authenticity that is rarely seen. As a writer, journalist, columnist, photographer, and editor with more than 30 years experience, his breadth of knowledge is unparalleled.
"It's clear that Mikel B. Classen knows and loves the Lake Superior area of Michigan and brings it to life in a delightful way. If you want frequent laughs, unusual characters who jump off the page, and the fruit of a highly creative mind, you've got to read this little book."
-- Bob Rich, author, Looking Through Water
From Modern History Press

Leseprobe

Lake Superior Tales: Stories of Humor and Adventure in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, 2nd Edition

Copyright © 2011, 2019 by Mikel B. Classen. All Rights Reserved.

To learn more, visit www.MikelClassen.com

All stories in this book are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is unintentional. The authors acknowledge the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Classen, Mikel B., author.

Title: Lake Superior tales : stories of humor and adventure in Michigan's Upper Peninsula / by Mikel B. Classen.

Description: 2nd edition. | Ann Arbor, MI : Modern History Press, [2018].

Identifiers: LCCN 2018035325 (print) | LCCN 2018056499 (ebook) | ISBN 9781615994090 (Kindle, ePub, pdf) | ISBN 9781615994083 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781615994045 (pbk. : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781615994090 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Upper Peninsula (Mich.)--Fiction.

Classification: LCC PS3603.L3843 (ebook) | LCC PS3603.L3843 A6 2018 (print) | DDC 813/.6--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018035325

Published by

Modern History Press

5145 Pontiac Trail

Ann Arbor, MI 41805

www.ModernHistoryPress.com

[email protected]

Tollfree: 888-761-6268 (USA/CAN/PR)

Fax: [phone]

Distributed by Ingram Book Group (USA/CAN/AU), Bertram’s Books (UK/EU)

Contents

The Bigg Man

Moby Pike

Bullets Shine Silver in the Moonlight

The Encounter

The Wreck of the Marie Jenny

The Death Trip

Wolf Killer

Sherman Yetty

Close Encounters of the Deer Blind Kind

Cave of Gold

About the Author

Also by Mikel B. Classen

Non-fiction

Au Sable Point Lighthouse, A Beacon on Lake Superior’s Shipwreck Coast

Teddy Roosevelt and the Marquette Libel Trial

Fiction

Journeys into the Macabre

Anthology (as Editor)

U.P. Reader (issues #1 – 3)

The Bigg Man

It was good to be on dry land. The voyage north had been ugly. He stepped off the ship onto the dock, grateful that the trip was over. Other passengers moved past, all seeming to want to hurry away from the schooner that had taken such a battering. He looked around, taking in the new surroundings.

Dock workers were moving to begin unloading the cargo from the schooner, and he walked toward what was the young, remote town. The town had been a spot on the map for many years but only recently had it begun to grow quickly. Sault Sainte Marie was the gateway to Lake Superior. Minerals had been found along Superior and the only way to get them out was through Sault Sainte Marie. Literally. The river that connected Lake Huron and Lake Superior had large rapids and falls, so no ships could pass without either being completely taken out of the water or its cargo transported from one ship on Superior and then to another below the falls southbound to Lake Huron. Nothing passed by here without going through the town itself.

He thought about all of this as he headed for town. There certainly would be opportunities here. He smiled to himself. McKnight’s docks. He would have to remember that, after he rested up.

Ahead of him, he could see the fort, Fort Brady. The town was centered on the other side. He never did like the military. Better to depend on yourself.

He followed the dirt road around the fort and he could see the plank buildings lining the road that made up the main part of town. A saloon was what he needed. He walked past the fur company warehouse and heard the familiar noise on his left.

The sign said “Small’s Saloon.” It would do. He took a last look down the street at the people moving about doing those things that they thought were important at the moment. He was pleased that it wasn’t him. He went through the double glass doors and walked straight to the bar. The man behind the bar walked right up. “Hello, I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Nope, you haven’t.”

“My name’s Jake, Jake Smalls. What’s yours?”

He ignored the question “I’ve had a long trip and I just want some whiskey and a few peaceful moments where the floor isn’t constantly shifting. Give me a bottle.”

“We don’t have bottles. It’s all in casks. It’s easier to ship that way.”

“I don’t think I can drink quite that much.”

“Glass or a mug?”

“Mug.”

Jake went over to one of the three casks he had mounted on the bar and poured out a mug. He handed it to the stranger who took it and went to a corner table and sat where he could look out the window.

First impression was that it was a quiet place, though he had heard that it could be dangerous too. He’d done his research before he came. Sault Sainte Marie was a small town in a strategic location on the verge of a boom. There were rumors of gold, silver and copper to the west and all of it would have to come through here. If trouble wasn’t here already, it soon would be. It hadn’t officially become a town yet so there were no rules. The only legal control was from the soldiers at the fort, so it was wide open country with little chance of repercussion. A man could accomplish much here, legal or illegal. The Canadian border ran right down the middle of that river out there, so this could be a smuggler’s paradise.

His thoughts were broken by some loud shouting and the entrance of three soldiers from the fort, this obviously not being their first saloon stop. “Smalls! Whiskey! Now!” one of the soldiers shouted at Jake. The stripes on his uniform pegged him as a Corporal. He noticed that Jake was a little on edge with this bunch. One of the soldiers seemed to notice him and nudged the Corporal.

“What do we have here? A newcomer. I think we should get acquainted, let’s go over and have our drinks and introduce ourselves to the stranger here.”

The stranger just looked at him and then quietly said, “I prefer to drink alone.”

“You don’t want to have a drink with us? Here we are trying to welcome you and you won’t have a drink with us?” The corporal and his two friends moved over to his table and stood over him.

The room had gotten very quiet. The card game that had been going on in the corner had stopped. This wasn’t how he had pictured his day going.

The Corporal spoke again. “My name is Corporal Ferguson. This here is McCann and James. Now, you want to be our friend, because if you’re not our friend, things can be difficult around here. Now what’s your name?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

The corporal leaned over the table, close enough that his breath was polluting the immediate air. “You don’t get it. We’re the law around here. We can lock you away and throw away the key and nobody is going to ask any questions. Hell, we can dump your body in that river out there and nobody’s going to ask us about it.” The two companions were smiling and laughing. This wasn’t the first time they’d put someone through this

The stranger leaned back slightly and said quietly “Really?”

“Really.” The Corporal sneered and looked hard at the stranger. That was when the stranger’s hand went out and the Corporal’s head impacted with the table top. He bounced up and flew backwards sitting on the floor. There was blood where his nose was, now flattened out and more was running out his mouth.

The two companions began to move forward toward the stranger, but he jumped up and said, “Please do. Now that your Corporal has got me started it’d be a shame to have to stop at just one.”

The two looked at each other, weighing their chances while the Corporal was spitting out blood and trying to catch his breath with a smashed nose.

“Come on if you’re gonna. You already interrupted my drinking. If you do it again I might get angry and I’d hate to inconvenience the fort doctor like that.”

The two men, still standing, backed up, looking at the Corporal. They were obviously not used to thinking for themselves and were looking to him for some direction. “Get me up,” he finally managed to blurt out. The two companions picked him up and steadied him between them. ‘You haven’t seen the last of me,” he hissed. The blow to the head had caused some balance problems.

The stranger said, “I suggest you get him back to the fort while you still can.” Someone had given them a direction. Now they knew what to do. They ushered the wobbling Corporal Ferguson out of the saloon and up the street.

The stranger finished the whiskey in his mug and brought it up to an amazed Jake Smalls. “I’ve never seen the Corporal handled like that. He’s not going to let that go, you know.”

The stranger smiled at Jake. “I’m counting on it. By the way, know of any good boarding houses? I need a good nights sleep.”

“Sure. The Hopkins House. You can get coffee and breakfast there in the morning, too.”

“Great,” he said as he headed toward the back door.

Suddenly, Jake spoke up. “Don’t go out that way.” The stranger turned, slight puzzlement on his face. “I have a pet out back. He helps keep the customers honest. No sneaking out the back way without paying.” He leaned over the bar and whispered to the man.

The stranger smiled, then he hesitated, thought for a moment and decided he might as well get it over with. Everyone was going to find out sooner or later anyway. “By the way, the name’s Biggs, Gabriel Biggs.” He didn’t wait for the reaction and headed out the front door and onto the street.

He went to the boarding house Jake had suggested. He had been right, clean, nice and inexpensive. His room had a view of the river, he could see the water rushing mad, crazy over the rapids. He could hear the noise of it coming through the walls. It would be good to sleep in a real bed again. He’d had enough of accommodations aboard ship on the journey.

Gabriel sat on the bed and pulled off his boots. He’d been wearing them so long it was like they’d become a part of his feet. Finally they came off. He lay back on the bed. Memories of his past came to him briefly, especially those of his old friend Andy Jackson.

* * *

He woke up with a start. There were six men in his room. There were six rifles pointed at him. His eyes adjusted, seeing the uniforms and a soldier spoke, “Sir, you are under arrest. You are to come with us to the stockade.”

Gabriel sat up slowly and said, “I’d prefer to be taken to your Captain.”

The soldier shook his head and replied, “Our orders are to take you to the stockade, sir.”

Very slowly Gabriel reached over to the nightstand and picked up a piece of paper, “Soldier, please read this,” and handed it to the Private. The Private read for a moment and then looked up. “Yes, sir, I’ll take you to the Captain.”

Biggs pulled on his boots and then commented, “I suppose no one brought coffee.”

“No, sir,” the Private answered.

“Damned uncivilized, waking a man without coffee,” he muttered.

* * *

Corporal Ferguson came out of the fort’s doctor’s office. The doctor had given him something called laudanum. He said he’d feel better in no time. Both of his eyes had taken on a purple-black hue and his face was swollen in response to his smashed nose. He felt with his tongue, two of his front teeth were loose also. He cursed under his breath. He’d get even with that son of a...

His thought was interrupted by a soldier running toward him.

The soldier stopped and then said, “Corporal Ferguson, the Captain wants to see you in his office.” If it wouldn’t have hurt so much, the Corporal would have smiled. ‘Now we’d see.’ Ferguson was certain the Captain wanted to know what kind of charges to press.

He walked across the compound directly to Captain Tremain’s office. Knocked, heard “Enter,” opened the door and came into the office. He stood at attention and saluted.

That was when he noticed the man sitting in a corner, sipping fresh, hot coffee. His feet were propped up and appeared quite relaxed.

“Corporal, you don’t look so good,” Tremain commented on Ferguson’s face.

“Captain, I ordered this man arrested and I want to press charges for assault.”

“So I’ve been told,” replied the Captain. “I’ve also been told that you provoked the assault and that you’re lucky the damage wasn’t worse.”

Biggs spoke up, “Excellent coffee, Captain.”

“Thank you. Feel free to get some more if you’d like.”

Biggs stood up and walked over to the pot that was sitting on the wood stove and poured out a little more while the Captain continued with Ferguson.

“Mr. Biggs here has decided not to press charges and bears no grudge.” Ferguson stood, looking straight forward. This was not how he’d expected his morning would turn out. “If I hear of you ever bothering Mr. Biggs again, it’ll be you in the stockade waiting for a court martial, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Also, if you ever order a civilian’s arrest behind my back again, I’ll have you shot. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Ferguson turned and went out the door. He was seething with anger. Biggs, Biggs, where had he heard that name? No matter, he’d get even. He had his ways. He’d get even with the Captain too, but he already knew how he was going to do that. He’d had a plan for a while and it wouldn’t be long now, the Captain would be powerless and he, Ferguson, would be in charge, rank or no rank.

Biggs left Captain Tremain’s office, satisfied. The Captain had done everything Biggs had asked. But then why wouldn’t he, it was all to the Captain’s advantage. Biggs could do things that Tremain couldn’t. Biggs wasn’t hindered by nasty little things like “chain of command” and “orders.” He needed a drink and some information. He went back to Jake Small’s Saloon.

Jake smiled as Gabriel came through the door. “I heard you were arrested.”

“It was a misunderstanding. It’s been cleared up.”

“Yea, I thought maybe it might be. Mug?”

“Yeah. I need to know something. Where would you hire someone of exceptionally questionable character?”

“You mean murderers, thieves, cutthroats and that sort?”

“That’s the idea.”

“For being here so short of a time, what makes you think we have those types?”

“The short time I spent in here.” He grinned at Jake.

“Point taken,” replied Jake. “There’s a place. It’s a saloon on the other side of the fort, past McKnight’s docks up in the woods. It’s a nasty place. A man gets killed in there and they just dump him in the river, no questions asked. It gets washed downstream and they never find a body. It’s like they left town. Listen, Biggs, take my advice, you go in there, being a stranger, in five minutes you’ll be carried out feet first and tossed in the drink.”

“I’ve been in some pretty tight spots in my day, but thanks for the advice. I’ll be careful.”

“Gabriel, they don’t call it the Blood and Guts for nothing.”

Biggs finished his mug and went back to his room at the boarding house. He opened his luggage trunk and took out a wooden case. It was rectangular and about six inches thick. On the top was a brass plate that had an inscription etched into it: TO THE MEANEST MAN I EVER KNEW, ANDREW JACKSON. Gabriel smiled to himself as he read it.

* * *

It had happened more than ten years ago. A group of men had been walking with the President, Andrew Jackson. Biggs was one of them. Though the street was lit, there was a deep darkness that hung in the shadows. Out of one of the shadows and behind the men came a man. Even in the dim light the steel from the gun muzzles flashed, leaving no doubt to their presence. Two men looked back at the President and saw the man approaching behind him. Biggs and the other man, Senator Crockett from Tennessee, grabbed the President’s shoulders and pitched him behind them while the man pulled the triggers. Nothing happened! The guns had misfired! Both men broke for the assailant, Biggs reaching him with a right cross a hair’s breadth ahead of Crockett. Biggs pummeled the man senseless and bloody, but he made sure he was alive enough to stand trial. From that moment on, he had been by “Old Hickory’s” side as unofficial bodyguard.

* * *

Almost reverently, he opened the case. Inside, laid in blue velvet, were what looked like two pistols. But, they were very different. There was no flint, no rod attached to the barrel. Instead there was a round cylinder that revolved behind the barrel and the hammer of the pistol struck what was in the cylinder. It was a new kind of gun, one invented by Samuel Colt. It was called a “revolver” and it fired six shots without reloading. Jackson had seen this new marvel and had commissioned Colt to make 200 of them for Jackson’s friends and military comrades. The shot and powder was held in a brass casing called a cap so the powder never got wet, and reloading was as simple as sliding another load into the cylinder slot. The gun was pure genius and very rare. And Biggs had two. An ample reward for having saved his friend and President’s life.

But that had been a long time ago, and he had been young then. Now he was older, wiser and meaner. He reached back into the trunk and pulled out a dark brown coat. It was heavy and leather. He put it on and picked up the colts. There were special pockets on the inside that the guns fit into. Biggs shrugged his shoulder so that the coat lay on his shoulders comfortably. It hung to the back of his knees.

The last thing he pulled from the trunk was a large knife. The sheath buckled onto the outside of his coat where it was easy to snatch. He knew what he was about to do was dangerous but it wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He was prepared. It was why he had been sent here.

He left the boarding house quietly through a side door, went to a line of trees and blended into the shadows of the woods. Darkness was falling and he would be able to move unseen, unheard. Like a phantom he moved past the fort and skirted the Blood and Guts Saloon. The boisterous noise drifting through the trees made it hard to miss. Biggs approached it from behind and then circled around the side, always careful to stay concealed within the trees and underbrush. Gabriel had no desire to end up trout food in the river.

It wasn’t long and he sighted Corporal Ferguson along with his two companions, McCann and James. They had two others with them that Biggs hadn’t seen before. He guessed they were regulars at the saloon. Ferguson was talking to them, the alcohol making them loud enough that Biggs had no trouble hearing them.

“There will be five of us,” Ferguson was saying. “What I want you two to do is act like you’re robbing us. We then shoot the other two soldiers and you take the payroll. We meet up later and we split it.”

“What makes you think that we wouldn’t just keep it all?” one of the men asked.

“Then there wouldn’t be any more jobs and the three of us would suddenly get very good at describing the thieves. If we pull this off, there will be other payrolls we can snatch as well.”

The two men nodded and grinned in the dim light. “We’ll do it.”

Ferguson continued, “We have another job for you, too. There is a new man in town. He seems to spend time at Small’s place. His name is Biggs. He’s the only one that can get between us and that payroll when it comes tomorrow. The three of us can’t touch him but you two can use him for whitefish bait. We need him gone, I don’t care how you do it.”

One looked at the other. “Wanna go fishin’?”

“Let’s go get some bait.” They turned and quickly strode down the path into town.

Ferguson spoke to his comrades. “With the payroll gone, those men that were going to reenlist, won’t. The payroll theft will cause a scandal and Captain Tremaine will be gone. This town will be ours. By the time they send another commander, it will be too late. A second payroll theft and most of the men will desert. Of course we’ll stay. Hell, it might even get us a promotion and maybe even a medal or two.” He laughed at the thought of it. The laudanum he was taking for his battered face made him more conversational than usual.

A noise behind Biggs made him turn, a hand on the hilt of his knife. A very large man stood there. “Who’re you and what you doin’ here, hidin’?”

Biggs could hear Ferguson telling his men to be quiet, having heard the giant. The giant didn’t wait for an answer and lunged at Biggs. Years of instinct, developed by moments like these, took over. He shifted left and the blade of his knife flashed in the saloon light. The giant missed and never got up. He only lay there, making gurgling sounds. Gabriel Biggs slipped into the woods.

Ferguson found the expiring body of the giant. He thought of Biggs. Then he smiled. Biggs wouldn’t live out the night. Those two knew how to kill. It’s what they did best. They’d bleed him for awhile, taking their time. Prolonging it. Then they’d start taking pieces. It would be a fitting end for the one that had embarrassed him so. Biggs would not be a problem.

Gabriel made his way back to Small’s Saloon. He entered and Jake handed him his usual mug. Biggs took a long pull and set the whiskey down. He seemed about to say something when two men came in.

They were the ones Ferguson had hired. Biggs let out a long sigh and thought, ‘Well, this is convenient.’ As he turned from the bar he felt two muzzles protruding into his side and back.

Jake caught a glimpse of what was going on but made no comment.

“Out back,” one of them mumbled. Biggs turned. Jake said nothing.

Biggs felt himself prodded through the door and stepped out behind the building. The three moved to a cleared area. The ground was worn and little vegetation grew. The two men circled Biggs, getting ready to shoot him. One of them gloated, “He ain’t such big stuff. This was easy.”

Biggs saw the shadow moving behind them and heard the low growl. The two men turned, taking their eyes off Biggs for a moment. The Black Bear stood on its back legs. It was all he needed as Biggs pulled both his guns. They fired as one. The two men dropped instantly, their heads leaking blood. Biggs looked up and saw Jake standing in the door. He’d witnessed everything. Biggs came up and spoke to him quietly.

Jake turned and went inside. The other patrons looked at him quizzically, having heard the shot. He turned to one of the younger men and said with urgency. “Run to the Fort and get Captain Tremaine. Biggs has been shot! I think he’s dead.”

Jake kept everyone away from the back door until a few minutes later when Tremaine arrived, followed by a couple of soldiers. One of them was McCann.

“Where is he?” Tremaine spat out breathlessly.

“Out back,” replied Smalls.

“Keep everyone in here.” Tremaine snapped. “McCann, Johnson, guard this door. No one comes out here.”

Tremaine went out and inspected the body. Jake held his customers inside, but a couple could see the body on the ground past Smalls. The guards had an excellent view. Tremaine bent down to listen for a heartbeat. Then he looked up. “He’s dead,” he announced. “I don’t want anyone out here. Lock that door, Smalls. I need to be able to figure out who did this.”

McCann smiled to himself.

* * *

The next day, Tremaine paced in his office, then there was a knock. “Enter,” he shouted and Ferguson came in. “I want you to put together a detail. The payroll comes in tonight on the schooner Invincible. I want you and four other men to escort it back to the fort from the dock.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Ferguson, “I’ll take McCann, James, Johnson and LaLonde.”

“Fine,” said Tremaine. “You’re dismissed.”

Ferguson saluted, turned and left Tremaine’s office. “I really dislike that man,” Tremaine muttered under his breath after the door had slammed. After the payroll detail left the fort, so did Tremaine.

* * *

It was evening before the Invincible tied up at the dock. It had a particularly hard time against the Saint Mary’s River’s current. Ferguson and his detail of men had waited at the dock for two hours. They were getting restless when the ship was sighted on the river. The soldiers stood, and watched the schooner tie up. The Captain stood on the side of the ship, watching everything from the rail. The sailors threw out a gangplank to the dock. He then ordered a chest brought up from the hold.

Ferguson smiled at the sight of it. His plan was working perfectly. Now that Biggs was out of the way, he had nothing to worry about. Ferguson looked at the sky. It was getting dark and it would be a dark walk back. He wondered where their new partners would actually stage the holdup.

The Captain had two of his men carry down the small chest between them. They set it down in front of Ferguson.

“Thanks, Captain, and the men at the fort thank you.” Ferguson saluted the schooner captain.

“My pleasure,” replied the Captain. “I like to do what I can to keep you boys in business.”

Ferguson smiled and ordered his detail to head back to the fort.