LINDEN FORMS AN ACQUAINTANCE.
Captain Linden made a flying visit to Shoemaker’s Patch, when once
informed of the attempt upon the life of Wm. M. Thomas, where he met the
injured man, frescoed and ornamented with plentiful patches and
plasters, and bolstered up in bed, loudly proclaiming he was quite well
enough to resume his daily work, and that he should do so on the morrow,
despite the advice of an army of surgeons and nurses. Considering that
he had received four serious gunshot wounds, one disabling the fingers
of his right hand, two in the neck, and one penetrating the chest, this
might be thought rather rash talk and conduct. Linden so believed, and
endeavored to soothe and curb him. It was of no use. The madcap bruiser
said he would kill anybody who tried to prevent his going out the next
day. And, in defiance of all the laws of physic, pharmacy, surgery, and
precedent, he did walk to the stables the second morning subsequent to
the shooting. One of the bullets, hitting him in the neck, had plowed a
passage, through muscular fibre and cuticle, missing by only half an
inch the inner jugular vein and adjacent carotid artery, and, should the
coats of any of these large blood-courses slough away, his death would
be certain and speedy. Without awaiting this crisis, and with the first
plasters still on the hurts, the careless and reckless man resumed his
job in the stables. Fortunately the injuries continued healthy, rapidly
healed, and in a few weeks Thomas was just as strong as ever, and as
anxious to kill a Mollie Maguire as before receiving the shots of his
assailants.
Linden sought to learn all the particulars of the assault, concealing
the knowledge he had already received, and therefore interrogated Thomas
closely, generally securing prompt responses to his queries. In answer
to the question:
“Do you know any of your assailants?”
Thomas answered:
“No! But shall know some of them if ever I see them again! A feller
generally recollects the faces of them what pulls a pistol and shoves it
inter his face! Leastways I do!”
“That’s true!” assented Linden.
“There was but four of ’em! I’m sure of that! I saw ’em before they got
nigh the stable, as they were sitting near the drift-mouth, but thought
nothing of it. It was no new thing to find men there, and even
strangers. I had been talkin’ a bit with the stable boss, when I again
saw the fellows, this time coming toward the stable. Still, I had no
suspicion of their purpose. The next thing I recollect was a youngster,
sticking a bright seven-shooter in my face! I went fur him, and seized
the pistol with my hand. It was discharged as I caught it. I let go, and
shied my hat in his face, and just afterward another of the party came
up and fired at me! After that, two more came and followed suit, when I
thought it time to get shelter, so I went behind a horse, and they fired
and hit the horse, and he fell, and I went down with one leg sorter
under him, an’ they looked in, saw me as they thought, dying—but I’ll
let them know I’m good for the lives of some of them bucks yet!—an’ left
the place. It was about half-past six in the morning—just nigh sun-up,
an’ I could see them as plain as I can see you! Of course I’d know the
first one that shot, and I believe I’d recognize the rest if brought
before them. I mean to live to see the scoundrels punished! If the law
will not do it, Bill Thomas will! The sneaking, cowardly curs went up
the hill like a shot, and were out of sight in two minutes, before
anybody could catch them! One walked a little lame. I recollect that,
for I stood up as soon as I could and looked after them. Dr. Bissell, of
Mahanoy City, got here soon afterward and dressed my hurts. He had the
impudence tell me I must keep my bed for the next ten days at least!
I’ll see him and all his plasters, pots, and vials in h—l before I’ll do
that!”
Linden tried hard to convince the wounded man that it was as much as his
life was worth to venture out until the result of his hurts could be
definitely ascertained, but made no impression upon the stubborn fellow.
Seeing that this would not succeed, the officer tried another tack, and
found Bill ready and willing to second his efforts in hunting up and
arresting the would-be assassins. Said the operative:
“Now, Thomas, if you will not obey me, or your friends and physician, I
do hope you will bear in mind what I say in another direction!”
“What is it?” asked the frescoed man, sullenly.
“I want a promise that, if any one asks who shot you, the answer shall
be, ‘I don’t know!’”
“Neither _do I_—so that’ll be no lie!”
“Well, if people inquire what the four men were like, say, for the
present, that there was so much smoke you could not distinguish their
faces or figures!”
“I’ll do it, Captain” responded Bill, with an oath and a groan. “I’ll do
it! But what is it for? That’s what I want to know!”
“I’ll tell you! If these Mollies hear that you, their intended victim,
cannot recall their appearance—in fact, would not know them if they were
to come again before you—they will be emboldened to remain in the
neighborhood. In the meantime, I can be on the lookout, and you may rest
assured, if I once get my hands on them, they’ll be put in a safe place,
where you can come and identify them! I have your description of the
parties, and do not think I will be long in running them down! Do I have
your word?”
“Yes, Captain! I’ll promise to be straight out in the business, if you
think it’ll help in bringing the crowd to jail! I do hope to see the day
when the scoundrels will suffer for the deed!”
“They will be arrested, you may be sure, when found!”
Once more impressing upon Thomas’ mind the necessity for silence and
caution, Linden left the house, and, the same day, returned to
Shenandoah. While Thomas was a desperado, had the reputation of an
amateur pugilist and a rough customer, all this did not palliate the
crime of his enemies. I was very anxious to have them captured, and work
was at once commenced upon that portion of the business.
Wm. M. Thomas was of Welsh descent, and his real name was Willmad Frank,
but he was generally known as Wm. M. Thomas—or “Bully Bill.” Why people
persisted in calling him by the latter coarse title, he told Linden, he
had no knowledge. He did not particularly delight in the _alias_, yet it
was quite appropriate, in slang parlance, being founded upon his daring
and reckless personal character. His father’s name was Frank. That
should have been his own, but he was everywhere denominated Thomas.
When the Mollies heard that Bill was not dead, after all the powder and
ball that had been wasted upon him, they were enraged. It was not policy
for them to emit their wrathful feelings on the public streets and in
the presence of strangers, but in their own secret circle they were loud
in denunciations of Hurley, Gibbons, Doyle, and Morris, as foolish
bunglers, who did not have the nerve to face “Bully Bill!” The four
worthies received little sympathy from those who knew their part in the
tragedy, and those who did not were as likely to speak their feelings to
their very faces as in the presence of others. Gibbons had gone. Morris,
Doyle, and Hurley were at work. The general public merely read the
published accounts of the attempted murder in the newspapers, and gave
little thought to solving the riddle as to who had wrought the deed, or
wherefore it had been done. It was charged upon the Mollie Maguires,
however, as it was known that Thomas had made himself peculiarly
obnoxious to that class, and it was supposed his end would one day come
through use of their pistols. At present Wm. M. Thomas survived and
swore eternal vengeance.
It was not difficult for McKenna and Linden to form a plan by which the
latter should become acquainted with the prominent Mollies in and about
Shenandoah. A time was appointed when Linden should encounter his
brother detective at Cleary’s saloon, where the clan mostly congregated,
after the departure of McHugh, and after the little misunderstanding
McKenna and his companions had had with Micky Cuff about his teeth. They
entered the place separately, one day, finding themselves in the
presence of Muff Lawler, John Delaney, of Number Three, and some others,
when Linden pretended to recognize McKenna as an old acquaintance, from
Buffalo, whose face he had not seen for several years. They shook hands
heartily and were greatly rejoiced at the seemingly accidental
encounter.
“Glad to see you again!” said Linden.
“It plazes me, too, tho’ I can’t say much for the sarvice ye are in,”
answered the detective, scowling upon Linden rather ferociously.
“Oh, that need not part old friends!” responded Linden. “You know I
always perform my duty, and as long as I say nothing about your Buffalo
matter, and do not go out of my way to harm you or your friends, I don’t
see the need for quarreling! Come, let’s have something in remembrance
of old times!”
“I’m agreed!” responded McKenna, and he was prompt in walking up to the
bar, followed by the assembled Mollies, all of whom drank at the
Captain’s expense. Had he not shown himself an old friend of McKenna,
there were few of the Mollies who would have cared to take a glass in
his company. They soon found him a gentleman of his word, and as he had
promised not to hurt McKenna, they felt he would be equally lenient to
that person’s comrades. Lawler was particularly struck with the frank
and manly manner of Linden, and said he was “proud to form his
acquaintance!”
Before Linden left the crowd it increased considerably in numbers and
its members were greatly under the influence of the liquor they had
consumed.
The ice once broken, the Mollies did not wonder, or indulge suspicion,
when they saw Linden and McKenna occasionally in company. It was not
often they were found together, and then there were always others
present, to prevent any private talk; but it was easy enough, when he
wanted to meet the officer alone, for McKenna to write it—as well as the
time and place of conference—on a bit of paper, in his room, in cipher,
and, when occasion gave opportunity, quietly place the communication in
Linden’s hand, or in a side pocket of his coat.
On one occasion, the detective, having something particular to transmit,
made the open boast in Cleary’s that, his revolver being empty, he would
“do” Linden out of a fresh charge. Slipping out of the room, a few
minutes later, he walked to the previously-appointed rendezvous, at the
old bridge, by the side of West Shenandoah Colliery, held the necessary
business talk, secured some cartridges, and, in half an hour, was back
at the saloon, exhibiting his loaded pistol, and chuckling over the sly
manner in which ammunition had been obtained from the enemy.
As a natural consequence of his defense of the Colliery, and similar
employment in other sections of the country, Linden was soon well known
as a policeman who had been placed at the head of a special force; but
his connection with my Agency was carefully guarded until such time as
it might be necessarily or unavoidably revealed.
At another time, Linden saw McKenna in Cleary’s place, and, after a
drink, in the course of conversation asked the Shenandoah Secretary if
he had any objection to talk over old times, and if he should speak out
before the company—nearly all Mollie Maguires.
“Av coorse you can!” said McKenna in a loud voice.
“We are all friends of Jim McKenna,” remarked Muff Lawler, “so see to it
that you don’t say anything amiss of him!”
“No danger of that,” responded Linden. “He’s too good a chum of mine,
and I have known him too long, to do or say anything to harm him!”
In the course of the conversation Linden accidentally let out the
supposed fact that, while McKenna was the best-hearted man alive, and
the truest friend, he would traffic in counterfeit money, if he had a
chance, and when beset, was a very devil in a scuffle, as one fellow in
Buffalo had found out when it was too late. McKenna said very little,
and allowed his friend to freely chaff him to his face, simply
responding that he knew the source whence the stories came and did not
care for them.
After Linden had gone, Muff Lawler took McKenna aside and whispered in
his ear:
“I don’t believe, Jim, that Linden would arrest you for any crime
whatever! He seems a jolly chap, and is too generous an’ true to take in
an old companion!”
“He is mightily changed, if he is not all ye can say that’s good,”
responded the detective; “but let us be wary, even of him! He’s a sworn
peace officer, an’ I know he’ll do his duty, no matther who sthands in
the way! It is my intintion never to throw myself in his road, if I
happen to be wanted for anything in particular!”
“Well,” resumed Muff, “ye may be all correct, but it seems to me that I
could depind upon him and never be decaved!”
Linden had thus built the foundation for what was fated to be a
considerably extended and intimate acquaintance with the Mollie
Maguires.
The shooting of Wm. Thomas, and its failure in a fatal result, caused
extra exertions to be put forth by the members of the Mollie order, in
different localities, to make trouble for the Coal and Iron Company, the
Superintendents of which were determined to continue work in their own
way.
Pat Butler, Bodymaster at Loss Creek, came to McKenna, a few days
subsequent to the incidents just detailed, and said his men were anxious
to put an end to shipping of coal over the Lehigh Valley Road, and
wanted his assistance. The operative demurred, said McAndrew had
returned, was the man to apply to, and finally refused to entertain any
such proposition. A little later, rails were torn up on the road
mentioned, and trains must have been smashed in pieces and people killed
had not the engineer, who was on the alert, discovered the trouble in
season. Butler, it will be remembered, was in favor of the Catawissa
bridge-burning, heretofore alluded to, and which had been given up when
outsiders became interested. He was still solicitous that the job should
be done, by Mollies alone, but McKenna boldly opposed the work, and
after a while forced him to abandon the project.
The next plan was broached by Thompson, of Number Three, who sought aid
in throwing the passenger train off the track of the Shenandoah Branch.
McKenna caused a delay, urging want of men, and then agreed, but finally
backed out, saying it was too dangerous to human life. So this was
effectually stopped, and the men gathered for the purpose of its
execution were sent home.
Determined to do something devilish, Thompson, Doyle, Murphy, and John
Dean, came together and turned loose the brake of a horse car, loaded
with iron, let it fly down, over the steep grade of the main line of the
road, when they knew the passenger train was coming up from an opposite
direction. Had not the flying and deadly missile—for it sped over the
track like an arrow from a bow—been observed at Loss Creek Store, and a
word of warning telegraphed the cars to get on the side track, hundreds
of lives would have been wantonly sacrificed.
A little later, Tom Hurley and Jack Hilbert entered Penitentiary Drift,
then being worked by a Mr. Schwartz, took away all the tools, powder,
and harness, and the property they could not carry destroyed and emptied
into the creek.
Soon after these things occurred the detective was given fresh cause for
uneasiness, in the expressed determination of Frank McAndrew to once
more leave for another mining locality in search of work. Should the
Bodymaster carry out his threat the management of the division would
again be left to McKenna, a consummation not devoutly to be wished. The
detective, therefore, endeavored to show to the perverse McAndrew that
the work already begun would soon result in a general resumption of
mining all over the Mahanoy Valley, in spite of the strikers, when work
would be as plentiful there as anywhere. All he had to do was to counsel
quiet, do his best to put the men in good humor, and he would not be
forced to remove from Shenandoah.
“This is all mighty fine,” answered McAndrew. “Still, it’s nothin’ but
talk, an’, be gorra! it taks cash to buy the childer clothin’ fur their
wearin’ and bread for their atin’! If I don’t get somethin’ to do in a
week or two, I tell you, seriously, that Shenandoah won’t see my face
for a long while! I’ll turn me back upon it wid all the speed
imaginable!”
Would McAndrew desert the place, and once more leave the Secretary in
the toils? McKenna determined that he should not go, if he could find
anything to prevent. But what could he do to keep him at home?
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