THE NIGHT OF THE DEADLY SHOWBOAT

By Andamogirl

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ACT THREE

New Orleans, evening

The Wanderer

Smiling, Jim knocked at the door of the bathroom. "You alright Artie? You're not drowned, aren't you? It's been one hour now that you've been in the bathtub." He heard water flowing but there was no answer. "You already took a bath at the hotel this morning when I was sending a telegram to the sheriff of Baton Rouge, asking him to contact the fireman and the driver of the Wanderer. The train arrived here just in time for dinner. Dinner is not ready by the way…"

On the other side of the door Artie finished rinsing his hair for a third time and re-started cleaning his arms for a third time too with a cloth and a piece of sandalwood soap. "I'm still alive, don't worry. I needed another bath to definitely get rid of all that ointment Black Crow put on me. It was so thick and greasy that I had to clean myself twice again, entirely. That stuff was awful – but very efficient, I must admit. The stench was awful too, it was like I had taken a bath in a sewage system. One bath wasn't enough for that – and I can't be in the bathroom and in the galley at the same time, Jim. I'm sure that you can prepare a decent omelet – it's not difficult, you just need a frying pan and eggs. And if you're feeling téméraire, put some fried onions in it."

In the corridor Jim chuckled. "That stuff healed you Artie, along with all those potions Black Crow made you swallow. They were disgusting too – but really efficient as well."

On the other side of the door Artemus used a pitcher to pour water on his head. "Yes, it was. Did you send a telegram to Colonel Richmond?"

In the narrow walkway Jim nodded. "Yes, I did. I told him what happened, but I said nothing about the Chickasaw, like we promised. Instead I told him that we had found refuge in an old man's house and that he had used old remedies to heal you. I told him that he had given us a spare canoe and paddles and that we had reached Memphis close to midnight."

On the other side of the door Artie poured some homemade herbal shampoo on his head and started massaging his scalp. "Was the River Queen intercepted?"

In the corridor Jim leaned against the bulkhead. "Yes, but unfortunately Loveless was long gone. All the passengers and crew are safe. I told Richmond that the confederate gold is probably on the Blue Queen – and the showboat is mooring in the port of New Orleans. Policemen are guarding it. I was thinking that we could go there tonight… or in the morning, after you finish cleaning yourself shiny."

On the other side of the door Artie burst out laughing. "Okay, give me ten minutes… more like thirty minutes, my hair still smells like sewage, and I'll join you in the parlor car."

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Later, in the parlor car

His hair still wet – and shiny with perfumed violet oil– and dressed in a brown suit with a golden waistcoat Artie joined his partner sitting at the table. Jim had laid the table and had a large plate with a nice big omelet with fried onions sitting in front of him.

Impressed, Artie smiled. "James-my-boy, there's still hope for you… "

The omelet was rapidly shared and eaten and the two men headed back to their sleeping compartments to retrieve guns and gadgets.

Back in the parlor, gun belt buckled, Artemus said, "I brought extra-gadgets in addition to those that we usually use , like the malleable explosive and fuses hidden in the collar of your jacket and the picklock hidden behind your lapel." He placed the box he was holding on the table and, smiling proudly, he pulled out three golden balls, each provided with a pin. "I brought a few examples of my new explosive device – the one that explodes when in contact with water." He placed them in Jim's hands. "Remove the pin, throw one of these tiny bombs underwater so that water penetrates inside – just a drop suffices, and boom!" He grinned. "It works perfectly."

Jim pocketed the tiny bombs. "I know that, you tested three of them in the river from the rear platform of the Wanderer when we were heading here. You killed tons of fish."

Artie chuckled. "You're exaggerating, maybe a dozen of them, that's all. And we stopped to collect them. I prepared some fillets and put them in the salt. Oh! And I brought my new artificial lung. I put 10 minutes of air in the reservoir and I added straps to keep it in place. They could be handy as we are going on a boat; no one knows what could happen."

Jim chuckled. "Then, we're ready."

The two men headed toward the door. The younger agent opened the door and suddenly found himself face to face with the mouth of a revolver – held by one of Loveless' henchmen, he immediately recognized. It was the man who had thrown Artie in the River.

Loveless appeared on the rear platform of the train, holding a gun too and pointing it at Artemus. "Goodnight, gentlemen."

Both Jim and Artie moved back, hands up.

Loveless entered the parlor car and looked around him, nodding in appreciation. "President Grant must be quite fond of you to let you use such a beautiful,luxury train." He sat on a golden- upholstered couch, still aiming his gun at the older agent. "I was in the vicinity when I saw light in your train and I came to say hello. You don't seem to be happy to see me again."

Glaring at the diminutive man Artie said, "Probably because we're not."

Miguelito Loveless grimaced. "I'm wounded, Mr. Gordon." Then he smiled, "I was sure that the two of you would survive, James West and Artemus Gordon can't die by drowning, it's such a common death. You deserve the best, and I have a few ideas…"

Looking falsely uninterested, Jim asked, "What do you want?"

Suddenly irritated, Loveless frowned and hit the cushions on the couch with his fist. "I didn't find any gold on the River Queen, I wasted my precious time!" He abruptly calmed down and added, "But I'm sure now that it's on the Miss Blue and I need your help to go on board with my men. It would seem that the police are guarding the pier where the showboat is moored… "

Jim nodded. "And if don't want to?"

Loveless gave West a crocodile smile and fired. Artie let out a yelp immediately when a dart hit him square in his chest.

Artemus immediately removed it but it was too late, whatever liquid had filled the dart, it was now running in his veins.

The diminutive man said, "That dart contained a slow lethal poison. Help me to go there, and I'll give you the antidote."

Jim nodded. "Alright."

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New Orleans port, later

Showboat Miss Blue

Loveless observed Jim West talking to the policemen from the inside of his carriage. He smiled broadly when the armed men left the pier.

Once they were gone, he left his vehicle, framed by his two bulky henchmen – and followed by Artemus Gordon. Six goons left a second carriage and joined them.

Moving toward Loveless, Jim said, "I told them that they didn't need to stay here. That Artie and I will be on guard on board the showboat tonight." He halted beside his (and Artie's) Nemesis and reached out his hand, palm opened. "Give me the antidote, now."

Miguelito Loveless shook his head. "Not yet Mr. West. I can't let Mr. Gordon and you go free to, not before I have found the gold. I don't want to end up in a cell, you understand." He glanced at Artemus who was scowling at him and added, "Don't worry, it's a slow poison, you should feel the first symptoms in a couple of hours: fever, chills, shortness of-breath… I should have found the million dollars in gold before that." He pointed at the ship. "Let's go on board. Chop! Chop!"

Once on the lower deck the diminutive man ordered, "Burke, Davis, Jones, escort Mr. West and Mr. Gordon to the cargo hold and lock them in there, separately."

Immediately the two secret agents raised their hands… and exchanged a knowing look. They still had all their gadgets on them. Loveless, in his haste to find the gold, had completely forgotten to deprive them of them, they both mused.

Once in the cargo hold, following a sudden intuition telling him to do it (he always followed his intuition), Artie surreptitiously gave Jim his artificial lung, mouthing 'take it', to Jim who looked at him in surprise. Then, Jim pocketed it discreetly. Artie had his reasons.

Burke pushed Artemus into an empty storage room to starboard. Then he locked the heavy wooden door, closing it using the thick, solid latch.

Burke pushed Jim into an empty storage room too, on the other side of the hold, to port. "There, be good boys," he said before heading back toward the stairs.

Davis and Jones giggled.

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Later

Using a malleable explosive and a fuse hidden in the lapel of the collar of his jacket, Jim West quickly got rid of the door of his improvised cell. He had just left the room when a series of gunshots resounded, coming from the upper deck. "What's the hell…?"

Then a series of huge explosions resounded on the showboat. Immediately the ship toppled to starboard, almost capsizing.

The agent lost his balance and hit the floor, hard.

Bullets were fired again, a lot.

Suddenly another explosion shook the showboat and a good part of the hold was suddenly engulfed in flames – coming from the lower deck, and they immediately started devouring the stairs.

Letting himself slide toward the door of the storage room where Artie was locked in, Jim was abruptly stopped half-way there, as a large breach opened in the hull and thousands of liters of freezing black water poured inside the cargo hold.

He was swept away by a huge wave.

The water level rose very quickly as the showboat began slowly sinking and Jim found himself quickly half-submerged.

Flames were now running along the ceiling of the cargo hold – spreading at top speed.

There was another explosion – less violent than the first ones – and Artemus Gordon appeared, swimming through the debris of the door he had just blown out, coming out from the storage room he had been prisoner in a few seconds ago. "Jim!"

Jim lifted his hand. "I'm here, Artie! I'm here!"

The two men met and Artie said, "We have to leave this place before the showboat hits the bottom of the Mississippi River!"

They swam together toward the hull. Once there, Jim fished the two mini bombs that exploded in contact with water in his jacket pocket and gave one to his best friend. They unpinned a mini-bomb each and threw it there and sank underwater, taking cover to protect themselves.

There were two simultaneous explosions and a large breach opened up in the hull. More icy water instantly poured inside the hold and the two men were almost completely submerged.

The two men found themselves swimming dangerously close to the flames eating away the lower deck. They could feel the heat burn their faces.

Pointing downward, Jim said, "Let's get out of here!" and he dived.

Suddenly a beam coming from the lower deck broke in two parts and one half fell on Artemus, trapping him underwater, breaking his left leg in the process.

Outside, Jim surfaced in the port, and he immediately looked around him. It was dark but the whole place was lit by the burning showboat. "Artie? Artie?" he called out and didn't receive any answer. He waited. But Artemus didn't surface.

Panic gripped his heart.

Underwater, holding his breath, Artie tried to free himself from the beam trapping his left leg and pinning him to the floor of the cargo hold. In vain.

He grimaced as white-hot-pain stabbed his left leg. It was probably broken, he realized. He tried to move, to free himself, but the pain increased.

His vision grayed and he swallowed water.

He knew he was going to die and wasn't afraid of death, it was part of the job and he had accepted it a long time ago, after he joined the Army – serving at Grant's side. But drowning wasn't his favorite way to die. He would have preferred a bullet in the heart. It was painless and instantaneous. Jim was safe, that was all that counted. He finished his musing there.

The cold sank into his muscles and dark spots danced in front of his eyes. The end was near. 'I'm sorry Jim,' he thought.

He wouldn't be able to hold his breath much longer.

Tbc.