The Sailor, The Mohawk, & The Giant Malamute

The road to Calais was deeply rutted from the melting and freezing of snow in northern France in November. They made it in two days of hard driving of the horses and pulled into a small Jesuit church around dusk. The priests were pleasant once they were given the letter from Father Jogues. Bill left the carriage and the two horses with the priests for good keeping until their trip back to Paris, whenever that would be. Bill gave them 500 ducats to keep the horses fit and in good health for the return trip and ready at a moments notice. The Jesuits used carrier pigeons between Paris and London so there would be no delay if finding out Bill was needed back in Paris.

The next ship to London didn’t leave for four days so Bill and Big Bear went to a local bar for some refreshment and possible gossip. The tavern was smoky and Bill’s eyes burned as they went inside. As usual Bear picked a corner table and motioned for the man at the end to get up. Maybe it was too smoky or maybe the man had too much to drink, but for some reason he looked over at Bear and said to bugger off. As he turned back to the person he was talking to, Bear grabbed him by the neck with one hand. Then squeezed the blood flow to a stop, held him off the ground while he struggled to free himself, and when he went limp, lowered him to the floor off to the side where no one would step on him. Two men stood up but after seeing Bear was still bending over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling quietly sat back down. One of the men went over after and checked the man’s neck for a pulse, satisfied, he returned to the table. The conversation resumed where it had left off.

The men had been discussing whether women were adults or children of larger growth. Bill was out quick with the fact they are adults, and told the group that a child, no matter how large, could hold a sword to Effa. In fact there wasn’t a man that could at the table. Four men jumped to their feet to challenge Bill to a duel and as their swords were being drawn they screamed for him to stand up. Bill drew his pistol and shot the man on the far side of the table between the eyes. The other three were across the table and Bear leaned forward,
braced himself on the table top with his left hand, and brought the right around with the hatchet in it at chest height with a war cry that stopped the entire tavern cold. The only sounds that could be heard after Bill’s gunshot was the sound of clothing, metal, and flesh giving way to the edge of the hatchet. No screaming, no crying, no running, just snapping and tearing and spurting. The three men dropped like stones to the floor. Bear pulled his scalping knife out but Bill held his arm briefly and said, “not here.” Before leaving Bill said those who saw the challenge were to raise their hands high. At least a dozen men did so. Bill and Bear left without another word.

They checked into a hotel on the waterfront, the best one, in fact. The clerk couldn’t take his eyes off Bear. The word would get around about what happened at the tavern, so Bill and Bear would have to take shifts at night until they were on the ship and maybe even then. Bill missed Klondike, and at night as he sat listening for sounds in the hallway, he’d think of his friend and all the times they played together. Also, he would be sleeping if Klondike were there with his nose to the bottom of the door. Just before morning Bill heard a board creak in the hallway. He went over to the keyhole and saw several men with flintlocks creeping down the hall towards their room. He shook Bear and they went to their prearranged places of hiding. Bill climbed inside an armoire close to the door and Bear barely squeezed into a closet at the far end of the room. The plan was to allow all the attackers into the room, then Bill was to tip over the armoire in front of the open doorway, making escape difficult. The armoire was turned to face the wall with just enough room for Bill to squeeze in. Bill mentally went over the plan, the only problem would be if they closed the door after they were all inside the room. Then he would have to climb out, push the armoire in front of the door and be inside the room with a raging Mohawk and several panicked men. If it went well he would be in the hall when Bear burst out of hiding and could pick off the ones that might get past the doorway.

The noises got louder as they grouped in front of the door. Two of them got ready to kick the door in as he heard two voices whisper “One-two-three” on three the door handle splintered as two boots smashed through the wood and into the room. The sounds of frightened men screaming followed, as a dozen men barged into the room guns blazing away. Wood paneling splintering and muffled sounds of lead sinking into the walls filled the room. Windows shattered and scattered over the floor as shards flew everywhere. Shots and bayonets showered the two “bodies” in the bed all covered up in bedding. More stabbing of the bodies when the leader pulled back a blanket to see rolls of bedding. He cursed and said, “they’re not here.” The sounds of relief from the men were interrupted by the crash of the armoire and Bill spilling out on the other side, getting to his feet in one motion and yelling, “Now, Bear”. The men closest to the door hadn’t even made it to the armoire when a blood curdling war cry came from the closet. The men stood frozen by the most frightening sound any man has ever heard. Having spent all their buckshot in the frenzy to kill Bill and Bear in their sleep, they had only their swords and knives to protect them from the biggest hatchet ever made. One of the smart ones dove for the third story open window, broken glass frame and all, in an attempt to save his life. The man made it through the window, at least his head and shoulders did. The rest of his body landed against the frame and fell to the floor. Bear’s hatchet didn’t even slow up as it passed through the man’s chest in a vertical arc that left a deep slot in the ceiling and floor on either end of the swing. The others turned and threw themselves into the blocked doorway entrance, piling together and screaming like they were going to die. Bill backed up and with a pistol in each hand and two loaded spares in his belt waited for the unlikely escaping attacker. Bill was glad he was in the hall, he didn’t like being anywhere near when the hatchet was swinging. The sounds on the other side of the armoire were familiar to Bill by now. In five seconds eleven more men were completely sectioned in halves and quarters, while Bear raged on with his war cries. Bill thought Bear was half out of his mind during these moments and would not even notice Bill if Bill happened to get tangled up in a group of attackers. Bill made sure he was not within twenty feet of Bear during these fights, just to be sure he lived to tell of the battle. Bill went downstairs and told the clerk there had been trouble with some men and there were fatalities. Bill and Bear waited for the authorities quietly with the smell of fresh blood thick in the air. Bear just sat there looking at the heads of the attackers. Bear resented having to leave their scalps when it was his right to add them to the strings he already had. Bill thought it was meaningful when Indian nations differentiated between counsel chiefs and war chiefs. Bear was a war chief, that’s for sure. Since the room was registered to Bill, the twelve bodies were by law, intruders.

The sun was up so Bill and Bear went down to the docks to see if there was an earlier ship leaving for England. The news of the twelve men moved faster than Bill could ask the question of any captain he could find. After the second no, Bill hurried to the ship that originally said they could board in four days. The captain wasn’t on board, but the first mate said no to boarding in three days. The rest of the day went the same, either they weren’t going to England or there was no room for two more.

Bill decided to try the same hotel for the night, but they were all booked up even though bill had noticed several vacant rooms the night before. After two more “all full hotels”, Bill and Bear found a shack behind one of the bigger hotels and bedded down for the night. Bear sleep with his body in front of the door so a man couldn’t open it without waking him. This was going to be harder than Bill had originally thought to get to London.

The next morning Bill asked Bear to stay in the shed and relax and Bill would come and get him for lunch. Without Bear looming over the would-be carriers, Bill figured he would have an easier time booking passage. There was a small merchant ship just pulling into dock. Bill waited till the captain came ashore and walked up to inquire about passage to London. Captain Briggs was a big man with a weathered face around 50 years old. He looked Bill over and then said he would be stopping in Le Havre and Brest before heading to London. Bill said there was another man that traveled with him that will be boarding as well. 250 ducats for the two of them was the final agreed price and departure was in four hours, around noon. “I won’t wait even a minute, I’ll need the fare in advance.” Bill paid it then asked the earliest they could board. Captain Briggs said anytime and wrote out a receipt for the money and implied boarding rights. Bill decided to wait until the last moment to board. Around 11:00 AM there were signs that anything that was going aboard was aboard. He went back for Bear and the two of them headed to the ship. The Captain was on deck and last minute duties were being barked out. As they headed up the plank, Bill sensed there was something wrong but went ahead anyway. The Captain met them at the ship’s rail and said only Bill could come aboard. What happened next is still unclear in Bill’s mind. Upon hearing that he could not come aboard, Bear shoved past Bill and stood in front of the Captain looking him right in the eye. Captain Briggs was no small man, towering over most men, but he had to look up at Bear. Several of the crew cautiously approached the two men. Bill backed down the plank to give the usual 15′clearance to Bear in case things got ugly. The crew and the Captain had heard of the 12 men in the hotel and were unwilling to suffer the same fate. Bill called out to Captain Briggs that they were attacked in the early morning and as long his crew didn’t attack Bear there shouldn’t be any trouble at all. Then there was a shot that rang out and Bear was hit in the chest, high on the breastbone. The Captain dropped to the deck and a dozen men ran for Bear. Bear grabbed his chest with his left hand, shoving his index finger in the hole. The right hand already had the hatchet out and a swing in progress. The first four crew members were cut through clean in halves as their torsos went flying over the railing with eyes wide open still shocked by what just happened. The next three tried to stop their momentum but couldn’t as they slid into the back swing of the hatchet and caught the spiked iron ball coming through as it ripped the intestines out of their bellies. They fell
screaming and holding onto their guts in an attempt to hold them in. The last five drew swords and started for Bear. Bill dropped two with the first two shots and a third with the backup pistols, missing with one shot. Bear threw one of his throwing knives and a man was pinned to the side of a cabin. The last man ran for his life, but Bear’s second knife found his spine before he could clear the side of the ship. This left the Captain flat on his back on the deck staring up a Mohawk warrior that one of his men had shot in the chest. The next thing Bear did surprised Bill and Captain Briggs. Apparently Bear didn’t think the Captain had given any orders to shoot him, that it was the crewman’s idea. Bear bent over clasped the hand of the fallen Captain and helped him up to a standing position. The Captain was quiet and unsure what to do next, finally holding out his hand to shake hands with the giant Mohawk. Bear smiled a rare smile and then grasped his hand and shook it firmly for several shakes.

It took two days to get replacements for the crew, once it got out Bear would be on the ship. The Captain did it, and they set sail the morning of December 12, 1726 for London. The English Channel was always rough sailing, but it was twice as bad in the winter. And everyone was glad to see Le Havre come into view. It was a short stop, only a few barrels and some bales of cotton were brought aboard. The Channel was so bad that the Captain went south of the Channel Islands to avoid the open water, but it brought its own problems with currents that had a strong bias toward land. The Captain was experienced with these currents and they safely made it to Brest where there was a three-day stop over.

Bill and Bear had to stay in the hold of the ship almost the whole way so far and needed to get to a tavern for a change of scenery. Bear wouldn’t go in the first three taverns because of the low 7 ½ foot ceilings, but the fourth was plenty high enough and they went in. Of course, all conversation stopped the second they saw Bear straighten up after clearing the doorsill. Bear was on his way to the corner table when a big sailor pushed Bear as he passed. Bear stopped momentarily then moved on. The sailor wasn’t going to let Bear off that easily and followed him to the table. The sailor pushed Bear again from behind and told him to turn around or else he’ll have to beat him to a pulp without seeing his face. Bill held back a few feet away and waited for the result of the shoving. Bear turned around slowly, as he turned the sailor pulled a knife and Bill called out “knife”. Bear finished his turn but not before the knife went into Bear’s side, between the ribs and buried to the hilt. Bear grabbed the man with his right arm around the neck and held him off the floor while reaching around with his left and pulling out the knife from his side. Then in a quarter twist he sent the knife up through the throat and into the brain and on through the skull and deep into the ceiling. As Bear sat down at the now-empty corner table he made a motion for beer to be brought. The innkeeper was quick to bring three pitchers of beer. The sailor dangled from the ceiling like some bizarre hanging. The pool of blood getting larger, but no one moved to take him down. Even the innkeeper was careful to avoid the sailor when bringing the beer. In the light of the tavern it was obvious that Bear wasn’t bleeding. There was a nasty gash in his side and a hole in his chest but no blood coming from either wound. Bill recognized immediately that his rare condition was now transfused into Bear and probably Klondike as well. This one fact alone would make Bear the single most deadly force on Earth. Bill always assumed there was a limit to the extent of a wound that would prove fatal, but he was careful not to get near such a situation that might lead to such a wound. The table didn’t fill back up. There was no further talking of various subjects. It was the man pinned to the ceiling that kept everything quiet in the tavern. After a few minutes Bill got up to leave and Bear followed. The men in the tavern were all too willing to let them pass. The night was cold and they hurried back to the ship where it was warmer. The first mate saw all the blood on Bear, but didn’t say a word. Captain Briggs left a day early after hearing of tavern pinning.

The rest of the voyage to London went without a hitch, unless you call Bear eating a couple disliked crew members a problem. Bear was careful to sneak the bones up on deck and overboard without being seen. At least no one said anything. Bill would sit and watch, as Bear sharpened his hatchet by the hour. Bill wondered if any of this would catch up to them.

London was one of the largest cities of the world and had the pace of life to match. Wealth from all over the world was poring into the bank accounts of its richest citizens. Even on the docks of London, men stopped what they were doing to watch the Mohawk walk by. With Jacob Jogues’ letter in hand, Bill knocked on the outer doors of the Jesuit compound. A priest let them in and quickly led them to room on the side of a main hall where Father Gulliette was sitting behind a massive oak desk. The father didn’t look up until the ink ran out of his quill. Then looking up he peered over his reading glasses at the two men standing there and invited them to sit. Bill had no trouble finding a chair at the front of the desk, but Bear finally found a big square solid looking table in the back of the room that he trusted to hold his weight. So I hear you had some trouble with the “King of Marseille.” You know he has friends in the worst parts of the city and your adventures in Calais and Brest are already being told in every tavern from London to Corsica. The last time a man was talked about to this extent was a fellow called “Billy Boy” back in 1696 or so, some thirty years ago. Bill watched the Father as if he had never heard of such a man. But the good father kept asking if Bill had ever heard of Billy Boy. Father Gulliette rang a small bell on his desk and two priests appeared out of nowhere as if there were hidden passages in the room. Bill asked for a secured room to stay in that had no windows and a door that was thick and sturdy with a steel bar to secure it from the inside. The Father said they had such a room but it had no bar inside. Bill thanked him and said Bear and he were quite tired from sharing around the clock watches on the ship. One of the priests, Jerim, would show them the way. Bill was handed a candle and holder and off they went down a narrow hallway then around a couple turns and straight to a large double door with a heavy iron lock and handles. Inside were shelving around all the outer walls and three big heavy desks in the middle with scrolls on top. Jerim said facilities were left down the hall 20 feet on the right and said goodnight. Bill and Bear found some bedding on a small bed at the back in a corner and split them up between them. Then Bear, mostly, moved two of the big desks close to the door before going to the facilities. Bill went next and when he returned they shoved the desks up against the door for Bear’s bed and Bill went to the small bed in the corner.

It was noon before they woke up but you couldn’t tell because there was no light in the room. They had slept well knowing any attempt to open the door would have to move almost a half a ton of weight, counting the tables and Bear. After cleaning up they found clean robes in the room and joined the priests in the dining hall. The conversations stopped when they entered the long hall, but Bill told everyone, “to carry on, that they were there just to eat lunch
–nothing off the menu.” At that the whole room broke out in laughter. Bear’s cannibalism was well known since ship’s crews were missing in several ports, and no one thought they had fallen overboard. Father Gulliette came into the hall and went directly to Bill’s table and said that London’s Historical Society has requested an update on the situation in the colonies from Bill Seaworthy of Philadelphia and Big Bear, the Mohawk Chief. Bill asked the Father how this could be on the second day in London. Your reputation precedes you, of course. Jerim will escort you to the Great Hall tomorrow night if you’re willing. “Send word we will be there” was all Bill said. Tonight, we go to the taverns in the dark places in the city. Bear smiled, he knew there would be plenty of opportunity to enjoy what he does best. Bill figured it wouldn’t be fair to ask Bear to hide in the compound while Bill went out on the town.

To get it over with Bill asked Jerim directions to the worst tavern in London. It was only a dozen or so blocks away and they were there in no time. Bill knew they had the right place when the second they cleared the doorway a fight was in progress. No gun shots, but screaming, knives, fists, biting, chairs broken over heads, the usual brawl. Bill and Bear stayed to one side of the room while looking for a place to sit when it was over. Bear found the corner table and started pushing through the crowd to get there. A man ran up and broke a chair on Bear’s back, but before the man could get away Bear turned and grabbed him with his left hand while reaching for one of the legs of the chair used on him. Then with one quick thrust put the leg through the man’s chest and into another man standing behind him. The two men fell to the floor pinned together with a chair leg. They lay motionless back to back under the continuing brawl raging above them, unnoticed until much later.

Bear took a seat with his back in the corner and Bill to his left as usual. These situations always made Bill a little nervous because it was harder to see everything that was going on in the room. It would be easy for someone to get off a shot without being seen. Some man came flying through the air in our direction. Bear brought the back end of the hatchet up and the sailor landed right on the 8 inch lead ball with spikes. His head stuck on the ball and Bear had to
shake him off, another body to rest on the floor unnoticed. This kept up for a few more minutes then there was a sudden silence as the brawl ran out of conscious fighters. Bill raised his hand for a pitcher of beer and went on to pour for the two of them. The barkeeper looked at Bear and asked where they hailed from. Bill said William Penn’s colony in the Americas. Bill went on to tell him that the man next to him was Big Bear, war-chief of the Mohawk nation, and scalper of over a thousand men. The barkeeper said there would be some betting later on the arm wrestling champion of the lower parts of London and invited Bill and Mr. Bear to participate. Bill hadn’t arm wrestled since he went by Billy Boy and he was fairly sure Bear had never arm wrestled. Bill thanked him for the invitation and said they would wait around to see what came up by way of challengers.

By 10:00 the tavern started filling up with some of the biggest men Bill had ever seen anywhere in the world. Bear was watching the biggest among them with some interest. By midnight anyone that was coming was there. The owner of the tavern stood on a table and announced the board was ready for signing. The board was five feet high and eight feet wide with enough places for 32 names along the left side with 16 spots in the second column and so on till fifth
column, which had two spaces for the finalists. Bill told Bear he would sign for him since they didn’t know any of the rules Bill wanted an average looking opponent at first and hope looks weren’t deceiving. The first 20 names went up quick and right behind the names went the
odds, put there by strange looking shadowy men that darted up to the board then seemed to disappear right after they wrote their numbers. Most everybody knew each other so the odds were quickly put up. By the time number 28 signed up the atmosphere was starting to get charged with anticipation. Then the door flew open and the biggest man in the world squeezed through the door by sucking in his huge stomach and men on the other side pushing on the extra fat to cram it into the frame. At one point he let out his breath and the frame creaked from the pressure and a distinct sound of sharp cracking of wood giving way was heard. Finally he ballooned into the room and shut off all light from the door. Half a dozen followed right after and formed a circle around him as if to protect him from any pre-event dirty dealing of an
injury. Two of the men were fanning the monstrous wall of flesh non-stop to keep him cooled down.

Bill had waited so long that Bear would have to go against “the wall” by the second round since they would both be in the bottom four spots. Bill now regretted not putting in Bear earlier. A tall, black man that looked like he’d had too much to drink signed up and turned to “the wall” and pointed his long finger at him like he was ready. One of “wall’s” followers ran over and wrote “Mountain” on the board on space 30. Bill quickly went over and wrote Bear on 31. There was
one space to go. The room got noisy as impatience overtook anticipation as the driving emotion. The owner got up on the table again only this time he wasn’t as pleasant as before. One more or there’s no competition. Grumbling and cursing followed right after the “no competition” statement. In the back of the hall a man yelled out number 32 right here and raised the arm of a man who had all the appearances of having passed out hours before. The name Jim was written on the board and Bear received 100 to 1 odds of beating the unconscious man in the corner. Money men apparently thought there was little chance that Jim would come out of his stupor and beat Bill they thought was Bear. The owner got up one last time before the competition began. That was to announce the two rules—right elbow cannot lift off the table and no weapons allowed in the competition area.

Sixteen two-man tables were in the middle of the hall. Each table was a solid piece of hard wood 12 inches thick and the four-foot long benches on opposite sides were bolted into the frame for stability. The floor was stained reddish from years of bloody competitions. Bill was having some second thoughts about what he was getting Bear into. As the men started sitting down across from each other at clearly marked benches that were numbered 1-32, Bill noticed men were putting on headgear and strapping their right arms to the brace in the middle of each table, making the elbow lifting off the tabletop physically impossible. Hanging down from the ceiling were signs saying no weapons allowed in the competition area. The owner hauled a big brass bell up on the bar and hit with the barrel of a pistol. The air instantly turned into shouts from the crowd, thudding sounds of heads getting whacked with closed fists, and cursing and threats screamed at their opponents. Bear flopped Jim’s hand to the tabletop with no resistance
from Jim, who never woke up during the entire competition. The other 15 tables were another story. “Mountain” was trying to grab “Alabaster’s” free left hand, which was delivering blow after blow to the big man’s balding head. The blows were having little or no effect on a man that had to weigh 1000 pounds or more on a five-foot frame. The kicks to his shins however, were causing some pain because each time a hard kick landed, Mountain would grimace. The forty-inch biceps finally were too much for the tall, thin man to stop and Mountain slammed his hand down, dislocating Alabaster’s elbow in the process. Other tables were full of kicking, slapping, punching, poking, spitting, screaming, breaking, and snapping of fingers, arms, and
elbows. When the last arm had been slammed down the bell rang out again. Men rushed to the winners and losers alike to help free the arms from the braces. The winners’ names were written on the board and again shadowy creatures ran up to post the new odds. Another round of
serious betting followed as wealthy men standing along the walls decided where to place their next bets. Bill looked up to see Mountain had a 20 to 1 odds, so he placed 1000 pounds of silver on Bear. The man taking the money looked at Bill for a couple of seconds before taking the money. Bill wondered if he and Bear could actually get out of there with 20,000 pounds silver on their backs. Without dozens of lawmen to enforce the winnings, Bill questioned his chances of this competition being on the up and up. Bill hoped Bear was still able to help with the collecting of the winnings, assuming there were any winnings.

Bill figured that if Bear beat Mountain he’d have to collect the 20,000 before the next round and there wouldn’t be any money to be made after that because the odds would favor Bear. Bill wasn’t sure if he could pull Bear out and leave with the money after two rounds. It would mess up the board. He watched as payoffs went on along the back wall. The rich men had hard looking men, with pistols showing, taking the money to hold it for their bosses. The hall was relatively quiet while the money being bet and the payoffs being paid was going on. Bill wondered how many men would be watching as 20,000 changed hands.

None of the remaining contestants were drinking. Mountain stayed at the table he had just won at, Bill figured because he was the favorite. Mountain poured over each end of the four-foot bench and over two thirds of the tabletop with what was originally his pectoral muscles. His eyes were horizontal slits in a flat face with a large bump for a nose with two vertical slits for ears. From the top of a wrinkled head to his toes were several dozen roles of fat, each competing for space enough to be seen. As he moved, previously hidden folds would emerge from below to expand out into view. Bill leaned over to Bear and told him not to let Mountain use his head and chest to weigh Bear’s arm down. Bill figured that added weight could be as
much as 400-500 pounds. Bear nodded his agreement and said to hold his hatchet so he could grab it in a hurry if he had to. The table they would be at was one on the outside part of the square so Bill could have the handle such that Bear could reach it from a sitting position by reaching over. Bear was not going to tie his right elbow to the brace and would sit so he could stand up quickly. These and other details kept the two of them occupied until the 3-minute bell rung out.

Mountain’s eyes widened as he looked up at Bear. Bear stretched and then flexed his upper body muscles, what followed was a magnificent display of rippling and bulging that had most of the men on that side of the hall transfixed on Bear. Bill was sure Bear did the flexing to intimidate his opponents. Bill was always glad Bear was with him in these situations, he couldn’t imagine what it felt like to see Bear knowing you would have to deal with him shortly. Bear sat
down putting his right leg between Mountain’s legs by shoving it between two walls of flesh and the left leg was left out from under the table. Bear jumped up, apparently just to make sure he could, then settled back down and grabbed the soft bloated hand of Mountain. Bear’s hand easily engulfed Mountain’s hand and a wince of pain shot through Mountain’s face when Bear tightened his grip. The only strategy Bill remembered of Mountain was to take direct punches to the face and shins, until he could heave his upper body weight onto the hands of both men. A crowd had formed behind Bill as men pressed forward to see this one contest. Bill looked each man over, looking for pistols, knives, swords, anything that might change the outcome of
the contest. Although four or five men had either guns or knives, none seemed trying to push through to get close enough to wield a weapon. Still, Bill felt a real risk with armed men right behind him, so he moved to the side but still within Bear’s reach of the hatchet. His right hand went to his pistol and rested lightly on the handle so as to lessen the time it would take to draw and fire. Bill was very edgy and kept fingering the trigger and letting his left hand check and recheck the other two pistols in his belt. Bill had gotten extremely fast on the draw over the years and thought few were faster anywhere in the world. The crowd pressed forward as the start bell was put on the bar.

Seconds before the bell, Mountain moved his body to right and pushed it up to the back of his right arm so Bear would have to push hundreds of pounds in order to have an angle to pin Mountain’s hand to the table. And Mountain looked like he was going to stand up with the bell and lay on Bear’s hand. Bill couldn’t watch the crowd and watch Bear so he decided he’d start with Bear then quickly the crowd then back and forth until something happened. Even other contestants that could see without turning around were watching.

DING. Mountain started to stand and Bear sprung forward and head butted Mountain on the forehead. The pop was loud as bone met bone with little flesh between. When Bear straightened up you could see Mountain was disoriented and had flopped back down on the bench and was beginning to sway back and forth. Bear then went for the pin, but Mountain rolled his right shoulder under his arm stopping the momentum Bear had going and formed a block of flesh making a pin impossible. Bill looked back to the crowd just in time to see a pistol come up out of a belt and begin to point at Bear. But before it could be steadied on a direct line, Bill had his out and shot the man between the eyes that were wide open in surprise. No one made a move towards the falling man as he hit the floor in a heap. Bill looked back at Bear
who was smiling at him. Then he looked at the crowd that had pulled back some with the gunshot. No one else moved. When Bill looked back Bear had already started to push Mountain’s head back away from the brace slowly taking the shoulder with it. Mountain let out a scream
you would expect from a water buffalo that knew it couldn’t stop what was happening to it. Neck muscles appeared from under the fatty surface and even the barrel chest gained form, as Mountain strained to stop Bear’s progress. Then the shoulder no longer lay between the Mountain’s hand and the tabletop. Bear’s four-foot arm was straight and locked into place against Mountain’s jaw. Mountain twisted and jerked side to side, trying to escape the iron grip Bear had on his neck. Mountain reached for Bear’s face but his arm was too short. Then, knowing it was useless that Bear was going to pin him for sure, Mountain lifted his leg and brought it down on Bear’s instep with all the power his weight and leverage could manage. Bear howled as the bones in his right foot gave way under the weight. Mountain finished the stomp with rolling his foot over the broken foot to maximize the damage by using broken bones to rip through the fleshy parts of the foot. Bill looked back quickly at the crowd then returned to what was going to be an ugly finish to the competition. Bear roared like a giant grizzly that had just been shot that ended in a Mohawk war cry that had the hair on every man’s neck in the tavern stand straight out. Before the war cry had ended, Bear had slipped his thumb from the
man’s neck directly into his eye socket. Then used the grip it provided, to yank the head down and to the left with such ferocity that neck snapped and opened up to the vertebra at the same time the right hand hit the tabletop with a loud bang. The massive dead man began to slump and roll towards the floor in stages. Each layer would build up mass until finally too much weight would force some part of the body to give and start rolling lower. The whole time this was unfolding, blood was shooting out the wide split in the neck, covering Bear in blood. Before Mountain had come to a complete stop on the floor Bear had reached back grabbed the hatchet from Bill and removed the top two inches of Mountain’s head and stuck it in his belt. He turned to the crowd to meet any new threat with another war cry. The crowd was climbing over the top of each other in a frantic attempt to get away from this Mohawk in battle rage. Bill was also trying to get the 15 feet of clearance, should Bear decide the entire crowd was a threat. Bill ran over to the man he had placed his bet with and demanded the money now. The man said it would take a couple of minutes to get it together, at which Bill said that’s how long it would take Bear to kill every man in the tavern. Then three different men came forward with four large bags and dropped them in front of Bill and told him to get that Indian out of here right now. Bill yelled out for everyone to stand back and no guns were to be touched until they
cleared the doorway. Bear walked up, grabbed all four bags and headed out the door with a pronounced limp. Bill followed, with both pistols ready for action. Before he could clear the door some one moved to his right and he dropped a man he thought was the one that moved. That
froze the rest of them, since the man landed dead with not so much as a yelp escaping from him on the way down. Bear wasn’t much for running away so the two of them walked calmly down the street like they had just finished a friendly beer with someone in the tavern. No one
followed them. Bill wondered if Bear would need any extended time for his foot to heal.

Jerim had stayed for the entire episode, leaving only moments before, to report back to the Father Gulliette. By the time Bear and Bill returned to the room and pushed the table back in front of the door, it was past midnight. The next morning at breakfast father Gullliette mentioned the compound was in need of a new bell, as someone would mention the pantry needed more flour bought. Bill caught the drift and had 1000 pounds in the Father’s study by noon with a note that if that didn’t cover the expense, to let him know. Bill thought the key to avoiding problems with the law was to keep close to the Jesuit protection.

Bill and Bear brought the bags of winnings to the Banke of France branch in downtown London. Bill’s combined assets in Europe exceeded his personal wealth in Pennsylvania. Last night’s winnings were split evenly between Bear and Bill and a letter of transfer was made up to
sail to the colonies to the First National Bank of Pennsylvania for 8000 pounds, keeping 2000 for his use on the continent. Bill transferred 5,000 to the same bank. He would have sent more, but there was no way to tell what else the compound would need, given Bill and Bear’s penchant for trouble.

Bill asked if Jerim could show him to a metal smith. It was a long ride north, but finally they came to a small building with many metal sculptures outside. Bill went in and Bear waited outside with Jerim so as not to distract the negotiations. Jim Ashly was a big man, with huge arms from swinging a hammer all day and a ruddy complexion from the furnace that stayed stoked from early in the morning to late at night. Bill introduced himself as William Seaworthy of Boston Massachusetts. The man’s eyes widened some as he extended his hand and said that he’d heard of a Boston Bill in certain seaport taverns. Bill laughed and said that was along time ago and he had changed a lot since those days. Mr. Ashly asked what brought him to such a humble forge. Bill said it was rumored that “Ashly Armor” could protect a man in battle from cannon at close range. Jim laughed till he began to choke, finally looking up at Bill he asked if Bill believed such armor existed. Bill responded that he had come to buy two custom suits with
detachable sections and that he was sure he would find out in time if the rumors were true. Jim said 1000 each and Bill agreed. Bill was worried that even though he and Bear could not bleed from wounds, there was the chance that limbs or even their heads could be severed or damaged beyond their ability to recuperate. This armor would help reduce those risks, and was well worth such a high cost. When their discussion was over Bill went out to get Bear. As usual, Bear had to bend way over to clear the smallish doorway and when he straightened up inside the building, Mr. Ashly immediately doubled Bear’s price since twice the labor and materials would be needed. Jim asked to look at the hatchet and spent several minutes examining it. Then he announced that it was the finest weapon of its kind he had ever seen. Bear quickly took it back. Bear wasn’t comfortable with the hatchet out of his control. It took almost two hours to measure the two of them. Jim was making sketches of the two men and no detail was left out. He took double measurements and plenty of time marking his drawings. Biceps, forearms, skull size, distance from center of the eye to bottom of jaw line, tip of the nose to center of the ear, waist expanded with heavy meal, chest expanded to full lung capacity, wrist
circumference, every part of their bodies. Full “Ashly Armor” would take two weeks before the first fitting and two to five days to ready the armor for second fitting, provided no measurements were way off. There was no third fitting, Jim Ashly was the best there was in the world at body armor.

The three men returned to London at dusk and went to the Historical Society Hall without stopping at the compound. The lions outside the building were life sized and stood on both sides of two of the biggest doors Bill had seen anywhere. Inside were twenty-foot ceilings with mural paintings covering the ceilings and walls. The floors were made from the finest marble from Italy. Statues from what looked like original Greek temples, lined the walls and hallways. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings with enough crystal to turn darkened hallways into brightness of sunlight. There was a dais in the corner with a pulpit on it. Paneled walls formed a somber background. Several coats of arms lined the paneling with the most important families of the English Empire were represented. The great hall was crowded with big plush leather chairs with studded decorations and inlayed semi-precious gems from around the world. The chairs were not in a row or in any discernable order whatsoever, yet every chair had a direct line to the dais. Men 50 to 100 years old sat in the chairs. Every man looked the part. Wealth and power saturated the air, even the dust stayed off the furniture, no doubt out of fear. The speaker was the primary partner in the Hudson Bay Trading Company, an early trader in the golden triangle of London, Africa, and the Americas. Bill and Bear were welcomed at the door and brought to one of the many side rooms until their turn on the podium.

The room was as ornate as the hall and Bear was fascinated with the mounted heads of various animals from African safaris. The rhino and lion heads were of special interest. After an hour or so a very formal man came to ask them to join the group in the great hall. As Bill and Bear walked onto the floor the formal man called out in a loud hear voice, “Mister William Seaworthy of Boston, Massachusetts and Chief Big Bear, son of Great Bear, War Chief of the Mohawk tribe of the Iroquois Nation, Pennsylvania colony.” All eyes were on them as they were lead up to the platform six feet in the air. Bill could feel eyes, used to sizing people up, studying their movements as they walked forward. At 5′10” Bill was as tall as any man, but next to Bear he felt like Bear’s son. They both stood at the podium and answered questions about the colonies. There was a lot of interest in which side various tribes would fight on, if a war would break out between England and France. Big Bear indicated that most of the northern colonial Indians would fight with the French. There was considerable grumbling in the great hall that evening as this unwelcome news of the colonies reached their ears. Finally from the back of the hall, stood a tall thin man in his 50’s that asked if the Mohawks would fight with the French. When Bear said yes the man flew into a rage and started to draw his pistol. But before the barrel cleared the man’s waistband, Bear had sent a throwing knife on a straight line some 60 feet and drove the man backward when it hit. The knife hit in the middle of his Adam’s apple and drove on through carrying the man with it. It stopped by sinking deep into the paneled wall at the back of the room with the man attached. Many of the men in the room jumped to their feet as it hit them that Bear had just killed a man with such precision that they all were exposed to being killed. A whistle blew and two dozen servants came running into the hall, they all stopped short though when they saw the Mohawk standing there on the dais with his hatchet raised high in the air some two stories above their heads. Bill yelled out that the man was drawing a pistol
at the time and several men relaxed some. Bill knew that there would be many important men die that night if Bear was allowed to wade into the hall with that hatchet of his. Bill yelled again that it was self-defense and if Bear hadn’t killed him, he, William Seaworthy would have, rather than die. Then he told them that whatever pistols they may have on their persons would not bring Big Bear down. He went on to tell them that Bear had survived multiple arrows, knives, and gun shots from rifles at close range and went on to kill every single man involved with the wounds. He said they seemed like intelligent men, enough to know when to let something go. “And, I don’t want the responsibility of yours deaths on my hands.” Again the hall was full of men arguing about whether to let some Indian kill one of their own, in their hall. “I repeat, I’ve seen Big Bear, War Chief of the Mohawks, kill dozens of pirates without any assistance whatsoever.” Eventually the noise died down enough to allow the speaker to ask that they leave quietly and apologized for the attempt on their lives by a member of the Society. Bill formally accepted the apology and led the way out of the hall. Once outside, Bill wanted to run, but as usual, Bear would have no part of running from mere men. No one followed them
as they returned to the compound.

When they arrived still early in the evening the occasional priest could be seen rushing down corridors. The good Father came up to Bill and handed him a small note that had been tied to the homing pigeon’s leg. The note had two lines. “Klondike abducted by the King’s men. Aphra and Effa are safe and well.” Bill threw the note on the floor and looked at Bear who was looking back with concern in his eyes. Bear had bonded with Klondike on the way over from Philadelphia
and was obviously worried about the giant dog. Bill thanked the Father for the hospitality and wished him well in the future. The Father said he and Bear could come back whenever they wished and a room would be waiting, no matter when that might be. A small, two-man buggy was brought to the front gate and two fast horses, ready to run, stood waiting. Bill and Bear quickly gathered their traveling bags and said their good-byes while climbing up onto the buckboard.

Instead of heading to the docks to catch the first ship out heading to France, Bill shot off due north to Jim Ashly’s house. It was the middle of the night when they pulled into Jim’s yard. Jim came out with a loaded rifle and a lantern. He lowered the rifle as soon as he saw who the late night visitors were. Bill told him there was an immediate need for the armor and that they would help to speed up the making of the suits. Bill also offered double the price for Jim to work around the clock only on their suits. Jim was a busy man and had allowed only four hours a day for ten days with the other four in case he fell behind or some piece didn’t come out right. But with Bear and Bill helping and working 18-20 hours a day, he should finish final fitting in two days if nothing went wrong.

Bill didn’t remember working that hard or being that hot except once on the equator with no wind on a merchant ship returning from India. It turns out that steel needs to be pounded into shape from heavy bars. There are no molds the shape of breastplates to pour the hot metal into. Bill’s armor was 1/8 inch thick, but Bear’s was 3/8 of an inch thick except for vital organ areas where it went to ½ inch. After testing his breastplate Bill wanted to go to ½ inches on vital organ areas as well. The weight was at the maximum that he could maneuver with, although Bear seemed to have no problems moving around quickly with what had to be 200-250 pounds of steel and iron reinforcements. The padding didn’t make Bill sweat like he thought it
would and movement wasn’t restricted at all, do to the design. The suits had numerous places where armor plates overlapped, which allowed airflow where it was needed most. The helmet was kept at 3/4 inch and fit quite snug. Bill tried rolling on the ground and hanging upside
down to shake it loose to no avail. The visor allowed full 240-degree vision without allowing anything bigger than a grain of sand to penetrate between the ribs. At the end of the second day Bill paid a tired Jim Ashly double price and stood there in his “Ashly Armor”. He felt like a god. Bear fired pistols and rifles at close range, trying to find a chink in his armor. Finally Jim convinced him to stand at forty feet while he fired a 3″ ball from a small canon. Although it
knocked him down, the canon ball only put a shallow dent in the armor. Bill was most pleased. They climbed up on the buckboard and sped into the night to the docks to catch a ship to Calais.

It was early evening when the wagon of tired travelers pulled into Paris. The street lamps had been lit. There were the occasional sounds of merriment from doorways, as women quite friendly invited men still up to come inside. Mostly though, it was quiet in the city as the
wagon slowing made its way toward the city center. Bill was deep in thought as what to do next wasn’t that clear in his mind. Bear would continue to be a lightening rod for violence, and he couldn’t see how that would make life easier for Aphra in Paris.

Bill decided to get Seafoam situated in the nunnery and then go to London while things cooled off in France. He would leave John, Effa, and Klondike to protect her. After getting some bad directions they finally made it to Seminaire de St-Sulpice around midnight. Rather than bother anyone so late, they pulled the wagon up close to the outer walls and waited for morning. When they heard signs of stirring, Bill knocked on the big wooden doors and a Jesuit priest answered and invited them in. The head priest was a Jacob Jogues, a stern, older man with piercing eyes and an uncanny way to get what he wants from whomever he is questioning. He went over the letters slowly from Nimes and Philadelphia then said all looked to be in order. He sent for sister Margaret from the adjacent Ursuline Nunnery. Aphra was lead away with Effa at her side, as well as Guinevere. And of course Klondike was told to stay with Seafoam at all times and he knew what that meant. Klondike did take the time to lick Bill face from bottom
to top before he left and nudged the big Mohawk on his way out the door.

With the women out of the room, Bill and Father Jogues got down to business. The father said tuition at the Seminaire was 2000 ducats a year, payable in advance and room and board anther 1000. Bill produced 5000 in five bags and said the extra 2000 was for the safety of John,
Effa, Klondike and of course Aphra. The father said it was safe in the compound, but he would send his most able men with her if she insisted on leaving the grounds. Then he asked Bill where he and the giant American Native planned to be that they would not be able to protect his Granddaughter.

Bill looked closely into the eyes of the good father, but could not make out whether there was anything to be worried about. Bill decided to tell the truth. But first Bill asked if there was any relationship to Isaac Jogues that died in the Pennsylvanian colony in 1646 at the hands of the Indians. He said that was his Great Grandfather. Bill said there a lot of history there and let the subject drop. Then Bill told the father there had been some trouble in Marseille and just outside Versailles there had been a small army that attacked them. Klondike would remain with Aphra for protection even though he could be the source of being tracked to the compound. Bill felt it was worth the risk. The father looked at Bill for a long time before asking him if there is something else he should know. Bill thought for a minute and said have your men stay away from getting close to Aphra even in battle, Klondike with consider anyone near her except Effa a possible problem.

After saying goodbye to everyone staying and getting the name of a Jesuit contact in London, Bill and Bear headed off to Calais for a ship to England. Bill was sure taking Bear away from Paris for now was the best idea. Bill rented a fast carriage for two, with solid wood sides and a metal base with two of the fastest horses Bill had ever seen. As they flew down the road, Bill reviewed the past two days. The Banke of Paris had the bulk of the money with Bill, Effa and Aphra on the account and two of the three required for withdrawal of any amount over 1000 ducats. He also had hand selected the priests that would escort the women into Paris. All four were strong as oxen and well versed in the martial arts.

Bear no longer hid his Mohawk, it was in plain view as they left Paris down the main streets in the roughest parts of the city to let all know they were leaving the city. Bill missed his faithful
Klondike. It was the first time he had been without the dog since he bought him. Bear was his usual quiet self, though he did seem happy to show his hair again.

Aphra was busy with getting her life organized in the nunnery. She had all the dresses hung to air out and was busy seeing to the many details of settling in. Effa and John Spencer were together all the time and special arrangements had to be made for them to stay in the same part of the nunnery. It was obvious to Seafoam that they were in love. The next day Aphra asked Effa about her feelings for John and Effa confirmed that they were in love. Aphra suggested they marry so a to make it less complicated living in a Jesuit compound. John had
reservations about marrying into the Philadelphia Buerers, but Effa was sure everything would be fine. The wedding was set for Christmas day, three weeks away. Sister Margaret was rushing around making plans for the wedding. She kept talking about releasing doves at the end of the ceremony and the kinds of flowers for the dais and isles. While all the excitement was going on around him, Klondike was sprawled out on the floor half asleep. He sighed from time to time. He missed his master and the giant Indian that seemed to know what he felt all the time. John played with him a lot in the afternoons when he had finished fencing with Effa. But it just wasn’t the same without Bill around. Seafoam took extra care to pet the beast and hold onto his neck as he hauled her around the room like she was a feather that happened to land on his back. She liked holding onto Klondike’s back as he ran around and around the compound. There was a bonding that formed between the two that couldn’t have happened while Bill was around. Klondike didn’t let Aphra out of his sight. Even when she was in the women’s facilities her privacy was never complete. At night she lay awake listening to the deep rumble of Klondike breathing at the side of the bed facing the door. One night Effa got out her bed across the room and the light steps on the floor was enough to wake Klondike. He rose up so his body formed a wall of muscle in front of Seafoam and growled a deep threatening warning that froze Effa in her tracks. In the dark she tried to calmly say his name, but the growling didn’t stop till she returned to her bed and lay perfectly still for several minutes. The next day she said that she thought it would be better if she slept in another room. She didn’t think it was of any added
benefit to be in the same room. She and John could be in the next room with the only access to Aphra’s bedroom. Seafoam understood why Effa wanted out of the room. Klondike wasn’t like any other dog, it was a lot more like sleeping next to a bear or lion that still had blood in his mouth from the last meal.

Aphra couldn’t wait to start buying material and gifts for the upcoming wedding. Early one morning she told John to get the four priests ready to go to the main Parisian marketplace for the day. The next session at the seminaire didn’t start until January, so Aphra was free to pursue any activity she wanted for now, and planning Effa’s wedding was quite time consuming. Aphra had plenty of money on her so once all were assembled, off they went to the market. There were two priests in front, then John, then Effa, then Seafoam, then Klondike, finally the other two priests. It was early December in Paris and everyone was dressed warmly. All wore robes in hopes of not being bothered in the market place.

The market was loud and the voices of vendors filled the air. Effa stopped at a stall that had material from all over the world displayed. She was admiring some golden silk bolts when it happened. Two men ran up, the first went for John’s belt and grabbed the money pouch and cut the belt at the same time. One of the priests took off after the man. The second man had run right up to Aphra but as he reached for her purse, Klondike landed on him with his mouth fully open. The mouth closed and the familiar dull pop of a skull being crushed was heard. Effa drew her sword and stood with her back to Aphra, to get set for additional attacks. But none came. The party went back to the compound to decide how the women would shop in Paris
without being attacked. The first man did get away and now the darker side of Paris now knew that Klondike was in the city.

John thought he should make the rounds of the taverns to see what, if any talk was going on about Klondike. In the first two taverns he didn’t hear anything about the giant dog. But in the third, that was the topic of the night, a dog that could kill a man with one bite. There were arguments going on about whether a dog could even do that. John listened as the story of the dog that severed a man’s head in one bite went on. Three men the corner table asked the storyteller about the people that were with the dog. The drunken man said they were all priests and nuns from the Jesuit compound. The three men talked quietly after hearing the Jesuit part and soon left the tavern. John didn’t like the looks of the three and figured there could be
trouble tonight if certain orders were given. He walked back and told Father Jogues, Aphra, and Effa of what was being said about them in the tavern. Armed priests were assigned their quarters for the foreseeable future.

It was a week later when everyone’s nerves were settling down and the marriage preparations in full swing that it happened. Aphra and Effa were in a shop of the dress maker for the final fitting. Klondike was in the corner, out of the way of the skirts and petticoats and heavy perfume that filled the small shop. Two priests were outside the door. Only one of which was a member of the original four authorized by Bill and Effa. The shop was on the same street as the compound so Effa didn’t make a big deal when the substitute priests showed up. There was a gun shot, then men screaming, then swords clashing outside the shop. Effa drew her sword and tossed one of her pistols to Aphra. She looked in the back of the shop. There was a small area in behind some high chests of drawers and pushed Aphra behind them and stepped in front of her with another pistol in her left hand, her sword pointed at the shop’s front door. Outside, one priest was down and the martial arts priest was fighting three men with swords effectively
when another shot rang out and he dropped to his knees holding his chest. Ten men rushed through the door and into the teeth of Klondike. The front four were carrying a large cargo net they held high above their heads. Klondike lunged forward and his ferocity and weight knocked all four of them backward into the men still piling in the doorway. The net had flipped backwards onto the top of the pile of men, struggling to free themselves. Klondike began ripping exposed
parts of their feet and arms. Each time he pulled another appendage off a new scream came from the wreathing heap of flesh. Bill had told Effa never to get close to Bear or Klondike in a battle, so she stayed back from the action. The men still outside on the street were armed
with rifles and pistols, yet no shots were being fired.

Aphra yelled out, “They’ve come from Klondike!”

As soon as Effa understood what Aphra was yelling she bolted into the room and shot a man holding one end of the net that had managed to get in a position to throw a corner of the net over Klondike. He fell backwards, taking the corner with him. What Effa saw on the floor of
the shop were body parts, men moaning weakly from loss of blood, and blood, lots of it, covering the entire floor. Even the men Klondike had bitten through the net were covered with gaping holes since Klondike’s teeth were twice as long as the net was thick. Effa went
through the heap of men driving her sword through their hearts and lungs to stop the screaming.

A tall man in the street called out, “Whoever is in charge inside, come out.”

Aphra looked out the doorway and said, “Speak your mind where you stand.”

The man said, “We have come for the dog, a certain gentleman from Marseille has hired us to bring back the dog to be champion of the arena. I am prepared to pay 25,000 ducats to secure a deed of sale or if the owner refuses to sell, I am to kill everyone in the party and bring the dog unharmed to Marseille.”

Aphra looked back out the door. There were two more groups of dozen men, each holding a cargo net the size of the first one. Behind them stood another 25-30 men with rifles and pistols pointing at the doorway of the small shop. Aphra looked back at Effa who was reloading the pistol she had just used and looked up long enough to say it was alright with her either way. Klondike was looking up at her for a command with blood all over his chest and legs. The dressmaker was frozen in fear in the corner of the room, her eyes pleading to end it here. Alpha was sure they could finish another 10 or 20 men but eventually they would all die. Aphra called out to the leader and said for him to come inside and bring the paperwork to sign. Aphra thought that it was better to get 25,000 ducats and live, even though there would be a lot explaining to do as to why Bill’s dog was sold. The other choice was to just let them take Klondike without selling him. Mr. de Calle came and sat down next to the pile of dead men without a single glance in that direction. Aphra asked him if she let him take the dog without a bill of sale, could she and Effa go on their way. He said his instructions were clear-no sale-kill everyone, including the owner. So Aphra signed the bill of sale Aphra Seine, the name of the
woman she was named after, knowing it was not a legal signature. She felt that was morally appropriate since it was a signature forced under duress. Klondike was left behind to protect Aphra’s life. This was merely an unanticipated way to save it. Mr. de Calle stood up, thanked Aphra for her cooperation, then he signaled to a man to bring the money, which he dropped to the floor in front of her. It was in a chest of some weight and backed out of the shop into the street.

The next part of the transaction did not go as smoothly. Aphra stepped out of the shop, Klondike followed, then she jumped back in and Klondike was caught outside. She felt faint from betraying Bill’s precious friend and asked Effa to lock the door. Klondike howled at getting separated from Aphra and started scratching at the door with his giant claws. When that didn’t work he started to jump against the door to break it down. The first lunge broke the window and splintered the rest of the door badly. Before he could try again, one of the net teams ran up and threw the net over Klondike. Ropes were attached to each corner of the cargo net and were used to sweep under Klondike’s feet, causing him to fall and get swallowed up in the net. Klondike managed to force his way to the edge of the net and bite off two legs and an arm but mostly was kept from any real damage. Soon the second net dropped over him and it was all over. A wagon was brought up and two dozen men lifted the giant dog into the wagon bed. But not until they had dropped him twice and he had bitten another three men. Then they were gone. Seafoam had never felt so alone, even Effa at her side didn’t seem to help.

“What will I tell my grandpa?” She broke down and sobbed into the shoulder of Effa Buerer, her best friend and confidante.

When they got back inside the compound, they went directly to Father Jogues’ quarters and told him what happened minus the money exchange. The money went to the bank the next day into the account Bill had set up. The father was not pleased with the story, not only that he had lost two good priests but that there were men in Paris that thought it was safe to attack Jesuit priests. It was also clear that Aphra was not safe in Paris and sent a priest to the church in Versailles to make arrangements for Aphra to live and study there instead. There would be false paperwork and new names given them to help keep their safety. The night of December 18, 1726 a homing pigeon was released in Paris with a home in a Jesuit compound in London,
England. The marriage would go on as planned and no one left the compound that week for anything. Guards were posted to warn of any intruders. Father Jogues sent the word out that whoever killed the priests would be tried in a Jesuit court once they apprehended.

John William Spencer and Effa Joanna Buerer were married December 25, 1726 in a chapel in church of St-Sulpice. The week since the abduction had been a blur in Aphra’s mind. The wedding ceremony was beautiful. There were dozens of bouquets of flowers and hundreds of
candles. Priests and nuns sang ancient chants of devotion and love. Aphra was quite moved by the ceremony and thought that it would be nice to have a wedding just like it when it was her time to wed. Instead of her stepfather, Hans, she would want Bill to walk her down the aisle. She stared into one of the candles and wondered, what kind of man, would she fall in love with.

The “King” had been so sure that Bill Seaworthy, the Mohawk, and that damn dog had headed up the Rhone River or escaped into the relative safety of the Alps that he sent only two packs of hunters after them. One on a swift boat up the river, the other was a notorious band of cutthroats that operated out of the foothills of the Alps. He also sent word to every major city in France and England to watch for a Mohawk and dog, both twice the normal size of anything
they have ever seen. A reward would be paid for the dog if a bill of sale for 25,000 ducats came with it. The original 25,000 plus the reward of 25,000 would be paid to any man. No bill of sale then only 25,000 ducats.

The Rhone boat made it to Lyon, but no one had seen such a party of such uniqueness. The Alps band of thieves never returned at all. Weeks went by and the “King” became more depressed by the day. His precious “Death” was dead and he was out 50,000 ducats on top of it all. He had no champion to make him money as he watched an Irish Wolfhound called “Red” take over as champion. “Red” was nicknamed for the amount of blood he generated from the vicious biting that went on and on. There were no quick kills, just bite after bite for what
seemed like hours. When Sean O’Keeth of Dublin refused to sell Red, the “King” lost interest in the arena and began to plan his vengeance on Mr. Bill Seaworthy of Philadelphia. He had friends in all the low places and eventually one will send word of the Mohawk or the dog.

Finally de Calle of Paris sent word he had seen the dog and would bring him by the first of the year. The King figured with the dog in his possession, the owner and his bodyguard would show up to reclaim his dog.

Jean de Calle had brought 52 men with him to secure the dog. Many of the men were ex-military men that were experts with firearms. He had heard the rumors of a Mohawk that was ten feet tall that couldn’t be killed. All he found was a couple of priests and two women. He had only lost 10 men in the capture of the dog. He figured he only needed a half dozen men to bring the dog down to Marseille in a wagon. But just in case the word got out, he had a dog worth 25,000, he had better bring 30 men with him. He chose the best shots among them and
sent rest home with 100 ducats each, good pay for an hour’s work, for sure.

With Klondike wrapped up in two heavy-duty cargo nets, now secured to the corners of the wagon bed, he felt he had everything under control. He sent out four scouts to keep their front absent of snipers and two to the flanks to watch for double backs and finally four in the rear to watch for “catch from behind” types. These ten men were to be relieved by another ten on twelve-hour shifts. Jean brought another wagon for those off duty to sleep in. There was a cover and lots of blankets to insure sleep, free of the cold damp air. The last six were to watch the dog around the clock in four-hour shifts to guarantee alertness. The last four had 12 hour shifts of driving wagons. The pay was 50 ducats a day. Jean figured 5 days to the Rhone
and another 4 to Marseille on the river, 10 days, tops. It will cost up to 15,000 to get this dog there, but if he didn’t get it there instead of 10,000 he have nothing.

Many Parisians saw them head south, 2 covered wagons and lots of armed men, some in partial military uniforms. Road bandits couldn’t possibly think of this party as easy pickings. Jean thought of his small caravan as a moving fortress, completely safe from attack.

Klondike had remained quiet once the second net was thrown over him. He watched his abductors for any sign of weakness, but in the end he had to wait for his chance. No one in the party got close to Klondike, they had all seen the effects of his teeth on men they knew. There was talk among the men that he could bite through the netting and kill them all in their sleep. But after a couple of days and Klondike had remained passive, they began to speculate that the dog had merely been protecting the women and he wasn’t as vicious as he appeared at the shop. By the third day men were slipping him meat under the edge of the net. One in particular, Jaque LaBelle, an ex-prize fighter took an interest in Klondike. He would give Klondike 2/3 of his meat and anything else he thought Klondike might like.

The other men told him he was going to get himself killed, but he laughed at them and said if he was going to die before he got old, it would have been in the ring when a fight would last for hours. Jaque was sure he saw intelligence in the eyes of the dog and admired the immense size of a breed he had never seen. The wagons pulled into Dijon several days behind schedule. Jean had figured all the transit days from what he had heard others say, now it was evident they were talking about a man on horse back riding hard the entire time to the point of killing his mount. The horses of the out-riders were in the worse shape. They had no road to follow and had to make up time whenever they could. So, 195 miles down the road Jean called a rest of
one day. Since they were in the Burgandy wine region of France, it was what everyone ordered in the tavern. Jaque ordered steak and mustard from the city recipe of mustard using verjuice instead of vinegar. Jaque preferred the smoother taste, with less acid. 1658 laws had
restricted the manufacture of mustard to those already producing it, but the best was here in Dijon. The regulars in the tavern, watched, as over two dozen men got drunk. It was a collection of some of the most deadly men that could be rounded up in Paris on short notice. But none were any uglier or feared more than Jaque “the fist” La Belle. The men talked among themselves about him, mostly because he stayed to himself. He carried no weapon and was hired because Jean had heard of him before and though he didn’t want a gun or knife on him when they went to capture the giant dog, Jean had a certain degree of respect for the man. Rumors were that he had killed 14 men in the ring and another 100 or so in taverns and inns. Standing six feet and 20 stones and no visible fat anywhere on his body, no man in the party thought to challenge him on those rumors. He wore a red bandana over a bald head and with an eye patch over his left eye, he looked very much a pirate. Under his fleece jacket he always wore in winter was a coat of mail he had forged in Oslo by an old Viking whose ancestors had raided Indians in Canada and England before the Norman Invasion in 1066. Jaque had always thought it was funny how the Angles and Saxons from Northern Germany were offered land in England to protect the English from the Vikings, then were overthrown as soon as the Germans realized they were stronger than their employers. Jaque loved to talk about history but went months between men that knew any.

The tavern was getting louder, as Jean’s crew became more and more intoxicated. Then a fight broke out between two of Jean’s men but soon locals were in there swinging away. Jaque stepped outside, he knew where this was going and he had no vested interest in the outcome. They were signed into the inn on the edge of town and Jaque started the brief walk when Jean de Calle walked up to say good evening, on his way to the tavern where the men were busy making enemies. Jaque said good evening but didn’t feel a need to tell the man anything else, since he would see for himself soon as it was. He went on to check on Klondike before turning in. He had wrapped a large piece of meat up for the dog and was looking forward to giving it to
him. He wished he could take Klondike out of the wagon and let him run around but knew that wasn’t going to happen. The men had been talking about where Klondike was headed and what he would have to do every night till he killed by a better dog or got so old he died in a fight to a lesser dog. The thought of Klondike being ripped up, and wounds needing to be sewn up afterwards made Jaque feel sick. He couldn’t even let him go since everyone would assume he had let the dog go. No one knew he had been feeding Klondike so Jean must not care how weak
he got on the trip to Marseille. He was going to ask if the reward was less if the dog was dead from starvation. He went up to his room and fell asleep.

The next morning he woke early to find many of the men absent and since it was unlikely they were already up, he assumed they were under arrest. Jean was gone and someone said he had left for the downtown station where they were being held for disturbing the peace. The inn
served a breakfast of griddlecakes and eggs with ham and biscuits. Jaque was in heaven and ordered seconds. He hadn’t eaten this good since Paris and there was plenty of time since they weren’t back from the jail yet. He ordered three extra slabs of ham and left feeling stuffed. Two men were standing by Klondike’s wagon so he couldn’t give Klondike anything right then.

Jean came out of the inn with a red face and muttering something about the crooked judge at the courthouse. Then he yelled at the men he had just got released from jail and told them it would come out of their pay and if they wanted to, they could come back and kill that judge when they found out how much it cost them. Jean was still in an angry state of mind when Jaque walked up and asked if there was a smaller reward for a weakened or dead dog in Marseille. Jean shouted at the two men standing guard over Klondike to feed the damn dog and
give it some water. Jean had assumed they would be there at this point and figured it was too dangerous to feed the dog. The two men looked at each other, wishing they hadn’t pulled dog duty. Jaque added clean up the shit on the wagon bed while you’re at it. The men looked at him
like he was crazy. Cleaning up all the piles would mean getting Klondike out of the wagon and afraid of Jaque as they were, they more afraid of Klondike and responded if he wanted to clean up, be their guest. He knew it would take at least twenty men to take Klondike out of the wagon and settled for calling them cowards. Neither rose to the insult, instead went to the inn to get some meat scraps and a bowl for the water. When they got back, one went right up to Klondike and started talking nicely. The other went to the opposite side and undid one of the ties to allow enough slack to slip the water bowl and meat under the edge of the net. The meat went in first, then as he was lowering the bowl to the bottom of the bed, Klondike wheeled around and lunged for his arm. The teeth landed on the elbow and the crunching sound that followed was immediately followed up with a scream of agony as the man went limp against the side of the wagon. Klondike held still as the man continued to cry out in pain. The other man ran around the wagon to help. He reached in to pry the jaws open with the handle of a buggy whip when Klondike let go of the first arm and sunk his teeth into the upper arm of the second. There must have been an artery severed because blood started to shoot all over as Klondike shook his head back and forth. The first man was still pinned from Klondike’s weight up against the side of the wagon, and at this point he was getting faint from the pain. The second was screaming at the top of his lungs as he struggled to free himself. Klondike released momentarily then opened his jaws wider and secured the unfortunate man’s head in his jaws. Then Klondike began to drag him up over the top of the side rail and into the bed of the wagon. The screaming stopped as the man disappeared under the netting. The first man slumped to the ground unconscious. By this time several men were standing around shocked at what they were seeing. No one made a move since there was nothing that could be done to save the man inside and the first man was “safely” on the ground seemingly beyond Klondike’s reach.

Klondike continued to chomp on the man’s head like an old bone he had been saving for some special occasion. Jean showed up and started to bark orders to get ready to untie the netting and secure the dog so they can pull both the man and the dog out of the wagon. Still no one
moved, they seemed transfixed by the sight of the man’s head disappearing in to the massive jaws bit by bit. Jean couldn’t have gotten a volunteer to go over and tie the one tie at that point. Jean pointed to three sharpshooters and ordered them to ready their weapons, which they did reluctantly. Then said to the rest, either move towards the wagon or I’ll have you shot where you stand. The men slowly moved toward the sound of bones crunching. Then they spread out and took hold of the nets all the way around the wagon. Jean said that the men on the left were to drop their side while still holding on and the men on the right were to bring the edge to the left but close to the bed so Klondike would be scooped up in the netting. As the edge got closer to Klondike, he looked up and saw what they were going to do. At mid bed the right team was thinned out because of the awkwardness of the middle. Then Klondike made his move, he charged the net and lunged at the edge. After 10 days of being so passive the
suddenness of the lunge along with the fact he weighed over 300 pounds combined to catch the right side of 6 men off guard. In a second he was past the edge of the net and standing there in the open. Jean yelled to throw the net back over the dog but before they could react,
Klondike jumped to the ground and sunk his teeth into the closest man to where he landed. The man screamed in pain, as 4″ long canine teeth sunk into his abdomen, while 5′ paws slammed him to the ground. Instead of finishing throwing the net over Klondike the other five men
jumped back as if he was going to sink into them next, which he would if they had stayed where they were standing. Jean shot into the air and ordered the left team to rush the dog. Again hesitation as the right team man went unconscious and slumped flat to the ground. Then
one man charged the dog with an edge of one net in his right hand. Unfortunately Klondike had experience with men charging towards him and met the charge by leaping up at the man and grabbing his head in his jaws and biting till the skull gave way with the usual dull pop. The rest of the men began to turn when Jean shot one of them in the leg and the others watched as he fell down cursing Jean for shooting him. The left team then rushed the dog with one of the nets held in front of them. Klondike headed into the net and found a man near the middle and jumped up and bit his nose off with a single snap of his teeth through the netting. The man jumped back and a second man stumbled backwards only to find Klondike on top of him biting him over
and over. The screams of these men brought the rest of the group running. Klondike then turned and finished off the rest of the left team except one who ran in spite of Jean threatening to kill him if he took one more step.

With five dead, two wounded, and the rest scared to move for fear that either the dog or their boss would kill them, Jaque walked up and started talking to Klondike in a calm, reassuring manner that seem to settle the dog down. Several days of feeding the dog were paying off
for Jaque at this point and Jean told him there would be triple pay if he could get the dog under a net again. Jaque said he would if someone will clean the dog droppings out of the wagon and wash it down and put some bedding in it for Klondike to sleep on. He went to tell how the
two nets could be used so it would divide the wagon in two then when Klondike was in one side they could clean the other side, that way he wouldn’t be covered in waste.

Jean said all right just get that beast under control. Jaque grabbed a big slab of ham and tossed it over to Klondike, while talking softly to him. Then he did something that shocked every man standing there. He grabbed a net, pulled it over his shoulders like a cape, walked over to the massive dog, and started to pet his head. Klondike had gone a long time without any real affection from a man, Aphra hugging him just wasn’t the same. He flung his head back and let Jaque scratch his head and neck. The whole time this went on, men were standing with their mouths open and staring at the strangest thing they had ever seen. Jaque barked orders that the wagon be cleaned right away, and the nets be set up after the bedding was in place. Ten minutes later it was all ready for Klondike, even the bed of the wagon had been washed down thoroughly. Jague then calmly walked the dog over to the wagon and had him jump up inside and closed the gate netting while telling Klondike what a good boy he was. Jean pulled him aside and said that that was the most unbelievable thing he had seen in a long time and from now on Jaque was in charge of the dog. And he could order whomever he wished to do the clean up whenever he wanted.

If the men avoided Jaque in the past, now they wouldn’t look at him for fear he would choose them to clean out the dog wagon. No one would hang around campfires at night for the same reason. Jaque had to run men down when it came time to clean up Klondike’s cage.

The road outside of Dijon climbed steeply as it wound into the mountains, doubling back on itself over and over. The horses were straining to pull the wagon with men sleeping in it. There were no outriders, as the trail was all there was as they gained altitude. Day after day they climbed. Jean was surprised how badly he had figured the time it would take to get to Marseille. Up ahead they could see the Swiss Alps to their left and the Massif Central range to the right. The going was slow as the wagons groaned up the hillsides, even going down hills was a problem because the horses had to keep the wagons from going too fast and getting out of control.

Jaque sat next to the driver, thinking about what had happened in Dijon. He looked back at Klondike and Klondike raised his eyes to him in a glance of trust and affection. Jaque wasn’t sure where this was leading but he was sure that he wanted to stay with the dog after it was delivered. It could work out since he was the only man the dog would respond to. He wondered what would happen in the arena where the dog would have to fight every night till early in the morning for the rest of his life or die a vicious death. Jaque started to think that there might be a way he could take the dog and go where no one had heard of the biggest dog in the world. Mile after mile he thought of places he had heard of that might work. China, India, Japan, Africa, maybe Persia, there was bound to be a good place to run to that the “King” of Marseille wouldn’t hear about. As he watched the snow banks go by in the early January morning, he started thinking about the islands in the north Pacific. The islands near the equator were out
because of humidity and the thickness of Klondike’s coat, but there should be something south of Japan that would do nicely.

Early one morning they reached the head waters of the Rhone Rive, and everyone was glad to get on a boat for the rest of the trip. Spirits were high as Jean negotiated passage for the group on two boats. An extra day was needed to buy and pack supplies for the three day ride down the Rhone. There was much drinking and celebrating that night as everyone assumed it was all over but the pay day. Jaque spent his time with Klondike and was getting somewhat depressed, since he hadn’t come up with a plan that would have them both free and beyond
any attempt to retrieve the dog and kill the man that took him. He was sure these particular men would track him for months if need be, since they would lose out on getting paid 3-4 year’s worth of wages for a month’s work. He could see the two of them on some distant island with
the village leaving them alone out of fear of the dog-beast, but the part he was having trouble with was the getting away clean without close pursuit. Jean had become more diligent in his oversight of the dog, ever since Jaque had shown he had control of the giant beast. Jean thought of the two of them escaping as well, and had round the clock guards set up to watch the dog, and by extension, Jaque. This made escape a very dangerous proposition for Jaque. He kept going over plans then thinking up what could go wrong, then another plan and again the flaws were listed until finally he fell asleep early in the morning hours without a plan.

It was raining when the group started to wake and anyone that had fallen asleep in the open was drenched and cussing about being cold. Jaque woke up and quickly grabbed some table scraps he had held back at diner for the dog. He had named him Chien, French for giant. Klondike even answered to Chien at this point, which was quite satisfying to Jaque since he knew it wasn’t his real name. Clean water had been hard to come by on the road but now they were going to be on the river the problem went away.

Jaque decided it was too dangerous to get a dog away from so many men being paid to deliver their prize unharmed. There was no attack in the foothills of the Alps, which was strange since it was notorious for bandits. Jaque figured it was the number of armed men in the party that stood watch all night, with at least six men well armed, that kept each other in sight at all times to stop any pick them off one at a time strategy. He thought that being able to handle Chien would put him in to the new master’s favor and would lead into his next job. Then he could in the dark of night when no guards were on duty and he was sure of a plan that would put them in their final destination without anyone from the underworld seeing or knowing anyone that saw a man and a huge dog go by. His only concern now that he had a plan was
getting the two of them out before Chien got killed in the arena.

The boats were there at the dock as agreed. Three crew for each boat and there were canvas tops that had been added for comfort. In the middle of each boat there were fires going, each large enough for several men to sit around without being on top of each other. And the stoves were in full use, with the smells of bacon and coffee. This was a surprise for the men and the moods picked up instantly with the sight no one had seen on the trip up to now. Jean stood at the edge of the dock watching Jaque as he lead Klondike over to the special cage that had been purchased for the rest of the trip. The cage was 6×6x6 feet and had long poles welded underneath that allowed up to 24 men to carry the dog like some king in a distant land. If twelve men are carrying the cage with the dog, each is only carrying 50 pounds. Jaque
lead Klondike into the cage and stayed in the cage with him while arranging the bedding he had gotten from the inn nearby. Then he secured the water dish to the corner with a clamp to make sure it didn’t spill once underway. Finally a large bin was secured next to the water for the food scraps, again from the kitchen at the inn. Once Jaque was satisfied, he gave Chien a long hug which was the first time he actually hugged the huge creature and it was an emotional
experience that Jaque would never forget. Jean was watching this special moment with intense interest. Jean was glad he had Jaque along to control the dog, but was under no illusion that Jaque would allow the dog to be brutally killed in the arena. With Chien settling down on the bedding and shutting his eyes, Jaque was free to join the men around the fire.

The eggs and bacon were the best he had ever had, even the biscuits were fluffy and he had several extra. There was even strawberry jam for the biscuits. By the time Jaque had stuffed
himself, Klondike was asleep and the bacon Jaque had brought for him just sat there in the bin untouched. The rest of the trip down the Rhone was without incident. The men were in a good mood, the canvas kept the rain off them, and the food was some of the best any had had in many months. When the boats pulled into the harbor the water got choppy and some were concerned that they should have unloaded further up river some, and walked in. But Jean was in a hurry to get paid and get back to his life in Paris. The men set up a perimeter on the dock
to avoid having their prize stolen at the end of the long road and getting nothing for their trouble. Sailors that walked by thought it strange there was a circle of armed men obvious guarding a huge dog in a big cage.

Jean found a man almost immediately that would go and get the “King” so it wasn’t long before the “King” and several of his men showed up. Jean went to a corner of the dock to get some privacy. Two of the “King’s” men ran off down the dock and returned with several heavy bags. Jean’s men were excited at the sight of heavy bags and began to stir about anxiously. Jean called them over one by one and paid them off, each smiling like fool, heading off to be quickly
parted with their money by booze and women. Finally it was Jaque’s turn to be paid, when Jean counted out 1000 ducats and turned back to the “King”, Jaque said to hold right there. There are 500 too few ducats in this bag. Jean smiled and said he was sorry, yes I did say triple pay didn’t I. The “King’s” men grabbed the poles under the cage and grunted as the six of them lifted together. Jean turned to the “King” and told him this man can handle the dog when no other could. The “King” turned to Jaque and told him 10 ducats a day and one percent of the winnings each night that could run from 3000 to 20,000. Jaque agreed, as would any man that could count. Jaque thought maybe just a year of fighting so they could live in style in their final
hide away. With 30-50,000 ducats both could live well till Klondike died and Jaque could continue to live well until he finally died.

That night as he lay down next to the cage that had been brought into the arena after all the fighting had stopped for the night, he decided that waiting a year wouldn’t work. He figured Klondike could get killed long before the year was up so they would make their escape at the first opportunity, which could have been that night, if Jaque wasn’t so tired. All night the smell of fresh blood sitting in pools on the arena floor kept Jaque from sleeping well. He wondered where Chien’s true owner was at that moment.

Bill and Bear pulled into the wharf sector of the city as the daybreak began. They still had their armor suits on and every man on the docks stopped to watch them pass. The reason so many men were staring is that body armor had been rendered useless with the advent of firearms. What was useful against arrows and swords merely slowed down slightly buckshot or bullets from rifles and pistols. The other strange thing about their appearance, other than Bear’s size, was the fact the armor covered everything, including their faces, making any identification impossible.

The third ship Bill tried was sailing the next morning at high tide around noon and was going to Gibraltar, then on to Marseille and Nice. Bill couldn’t believe his good fortune. This would be so much faster than Calais to Paris to Lyon then down the Rhone. Instead of 10-12 days they would be there in six as long as the layovers were short and the winds, strong ones. Bill knew time was running out for him to save Klondike from having to fight the meanest dogs of the
world day in and day out.

He tried several other ships but none were leaving sooner and only one was headed to Marseille, but not for five days. It was noon, and with a whole day to wait Bill asked around about a gunsmith that dealt in cannon. When Jim Ashly used a 3″ ball it gave Bill an idea. Bear was already an expert with rifles and pistols, even though he used his throwing knives and hatchet for the pure joy of their feel and the amount of fear they instilled in his opponents. Olin the Smith’s forge was only two blocks off the wharf and Bill wasted no time getting there. They walked in on Olin as he was pouring new metal and the heat was overwhelming, especially with the armor on. When he finished he looked up to see the biggest suit of armor ever made. Ashly had added a four-foot tall Mohawk top piece to the helmet and extended shoulder guards an extra three feet wider than needed which made Bear look like some two-story statue of a Roman God in full battle dress. Once again Bill was so glad he didn’t have to face Bear in battle, he was pretty sure he would run since he had no idea how he would kill anyone that big.

Olin was full of questions, which they had to answer before Bill could say why they had come to him. Olin looked over both suits, but Bear’s was the most complicated with the extra three feet width there were additional internal pieces of metal to form the pectoral breast plate appearance. When Bill told him a 3″ cannon ball shot from 40′ merely dented the armor Olin said that he wasn’t a bit surprised after seeing the construction, easily the best ever made, anywhere in the world. Then Bill told Olin what he wanted him to make by morning. Bill made a sketch of a cannon that would fit on top of Bear’s shoulders without going past the six-foot measurement of the width. There also had to be a swivel mechanism that allowed Bear to reach up and swing the cannon to face forward with a handle to hold to aim with. Additionally there would be a waist band harness to hold gunpowder bags the exact size of the diameter of the canon and a matching set of 2.99″ cannon balls. Olin ’s eyes got big as he looked at the drawing and he excited at the idea of making such a cannon. Bill offered 1,000 pounds, Olin said 3, they settled on 2500 and Olin was to provide enough powder bags and cannon balls for 25 rounds which is all he thought the two of them could carry anyway. Olin took measurements,
but finally said Bear would have to leave the suit there for him to attach the mechanism. Before they left, Bill added that the cannon would have to be able to be loaded from behind so he could be behind Bear in the fighting and all Bear would have to do is aim the thing and figure elevation if that was needed. Bill went back in to add that it would be nice if the barrel flared out at the muzzle so there would be no mistaking this artillery piece as anything but a cannon. Olin looked up in frustration, Bill was adding on to a price that wasn’t that satisfying to begin with. The only reason he agreed was the challenge of making such a device. Those last two items complicated the job greatly. But before he could renegotiate the price, Bill was out of sight.

It was late afternoon and Bill was getting thirsty, Bear was always in the mood for beer so they checked into a rundown inn, left their suits in a closet and headed out for some refreshment. As usual Bear was looking for a high ceiling other than the one they got into trouble in the last time. Then he found one and they went in. Bear headed for the corner, hatchet in hand. Unfortunately the corner table was crowded with sailors from the same ship and they had been drinking for quite some time. Bear told the man in the corner that he wanted to sit in that spot. The man didn’t really look at Bear and told him to go to hell and went on talking to the man to his left. Bear repeated, rather nicely for Bear, that he wanted to sit there. The sailor once
again without looking told Bear to get lost, again not looking at the man asking to sit there. Bill moved back a ways, since he felt something was about to happen. Bear went to the opposite end of the table, grabbed the end of the table, and shoved it into the man who had told him to get lost. The edge of the table dug into the man and he tried to jump up but was pinned against the wall. At this point he started to curse and finally looked at Bear. This is when he said he’d get up if allowed to. Bear pulled back the table. Not only did the sailor get up, but all his crewmates as well. Nine men were standing looking at Bear, all of them trying to size up their chances of beating the big Indian up and dumping him in the alley. The littlest man among them took a swing at Bear and missed Bear’s jaw, the fist landing on Bear’s right shoulder with no effect. Bear pushed by three on one side of the table while thanking them for letting him sit down.

Things looked like it was going to be a peaceful reseating arrangement when the original man pulled a knife and stabbed Bear in the stomach so fast Bear had no time to get back or block the thrust. At this point Bill went back another 6 feet to give himself his customary 15-20 feet of clearance. Bear let out a war cry and proceeded to swing the hatchet in a full sweep that slid through four men in front of him, one being the stabber. The other five men jumped towards Bear with knives and one sword. The back swing of the spiked ball caught two of them in their heads and two pops followed shortly as their skulls exploded from the impact. Anther knife sunk into Bear’s back from a man on his left, which Bill dropped with a shot to his throat. Bill’s second shot took another out that had drawn his sword but had not yet brought it down on Bear to this point. The third shot was to take out a man against the wall with a pistol in his hand. Bill then moved closer to finish two more men that had been sitting at another table that were with the crew by sliding his bayonet into their backs as they started for the corner. Three more men along the wall came for Bear and Bill threw two of his throwing knives into their foreheads. The third turned towards Bill after seeing Bear had help in the room only to have Bill close the man’s windpipe with his mind, something he hadn’t done since he was in Athens as a young man. By the time he had turned around to check on Bear, Bear was finishing the removal of the scalp of the sixth man on the floor with only three to go. Blood was everywhere and Bill was slipping and sliding trying to get over to Bear to get him to leave with him. The tavern was totally silent as Bill removed the second knife from Bear’s back and the two made their way to the door. Bill called out that it was self-defense and many of you saw that man stab the Indian into the
belly to start all this off. There were a couple men in the back of the tavern that said it was true the Indian did not start the fight. Bill wasn’t sure if they were saying that to get them to leave or because they would repeat it in a courtroom, either way, Bill was satisfied and ducked out the door. Bill asked Bear to go up the side stairs to the room while he went in the front, that way no one would see he was covered in blood. Bear had to wait to clean up until all of
the guests on the floor had gone to sleep.

Bill and Bear checked out and went to Olin’s shop. Olin was still up working the forge. They offered to help and he put them to work at stoking the fire. Dawn arrived and the three of them were still hard at work. Then as quickly as it was started, it was finished. The cannon had a 6″ peg that held it in place on Bear’s back and the swivel joint was simple yet smooth acting. The front of the barrel widened beyond the actual end of the barrel another eight inches to an
inner diameter of four inches. The breechloader was lightening fast and could be handled by just one man, even though it would be a little faster if there was a rear loader. The satchel holding the powder bags had tubes, which allowed them to fall out if cover was flipped back.
And the balls were in an ammo pack that was tilted so every time one was pulled from the end another took its place. Finally a firing cap was installed to avoid the need for fuse and lighter. Tears came to Bill’s eyes as he watched Bear pull the suit on and get ready to fire the first round. Bear reached up undid the latch holding the cannon in place. Then he lifted the cannon off his shoulder grabbed a bag pushed it in, followed with a ball, closed the breech, dropped a cap in swung it back into the peg hole and fired. The whole process took less than eight seconds and later maybe less than five. Now Olin had tears in his eyes. All three men embraced as only men can do in bonding over a new weapon. The extra weight of a 200 pound suit, a 80 pound cannon, a 40 pound powder bag, a 40 pound hatchet, and another 100 pounds of cannon balls didn’t seem to affect Bear at all. Bill’s 80 pound suit and 40 pound pack was quite noticeable as Bill followed Bear down the street. Bill offered to carry Bear’s 60 pound pack to help some. Bill never stopped being amazed at Bear, almost 500 pounds and no visible effects. It was almost noon and the two hurried along to the ship.

The boarding plank was still in place as Bill struggled up to the main deck. He too, was carrying his own weight and felt every one of his years. Since cargo was always lifted by cargo nets and lowered into the hold by large boons, no real weight was brought on board on the plank. So when Bear stepped onto the plank it let out a loud crack and moaned under the ½ ton Mohawk in full battle armor with cannon. Just as Bear set foot on the main deck, the plank finally gave way, snapped in two and fell into the water with a huge splash shooting into the air and onto the decking. The crew that had seen it happen were speechless, until they got down below in the safety of their quarters of course. The captain came up to Bill and greeted him in a reserved manner. There had been no mention of a savage being on the voyage. Bill introduced Bear with his full title and it seemed to calm the moment down right away. Bill and Bear stayed on deck until nightfall in full armor and not one crew member came anywhere close to them for some reason.

When they went to their quarters they found 2 small bunks so Bear went onto the floor. Bill had first shift and was thinking about his precious Klondike getting torn up by dogs from all over the world. It was bad either way, if he won he’d have to fight more dogs into the night and the next night and the next, if he lost he’d be dead, and not a pretty death at that. He couldn’t sleep even when it was Bear’s turn to stand watch, so he let Bear sleep. The next day they went up on deck again and watched some dark clouds fill the sky. The storm hit before sunset and the ship was tossed around like a little toy in a bathtub. It got so bad that the Captain ordered the main sail to be tied. Bill helped as the crew struggled to get all that sail in, in a
hurry. It had been many years since Bill had been a sailor but it came back in a hurry as he put his back to it.

Bear smiled at Bill helping the crew. He knew Bill had never really left the sea in his heart even though he had been on land for decades. Bear had gotten to know Bill well on their journeys and thought of him as a brother. His little brother had been put in charge when he left and he missed him. They played in the forest, hours at a time, and Little Bear always tried to surprise Big Bear from hiding places. Of course Bear would act surprised and let Little Bear think he had just got the better of his brother.

As the rock of Gibraltar came into view Bill and Bear were on deck. Bill told Bear that it was one of the two Pillars erected by Hercules to mark the edge of the world. There is a cave inside the
rock called Michael’s cave that ancient pirates used to hide their treasures. It is a British colony and will remain one until the apes leave, at least that is the local legend. Bear was noticeably
impressed and asked about Hercules. Bill went on to explain that he was a legend, like the BearMan that his tribe sees from time to time. Bear said to go on, and Bill continued with the story. Hercules was the son of Zeus, the king of the gods, and a mortal Alcmene. Hera,
Zeus’ wife, was jealous and made Hercules temporarily insane during which time he killed Megara and her children. To be cleansed of this crime he had to perform twelve impossible feats. Among the feats was the strangling of a lion with his bare hands over a 30 day period, then nailing the body in the sky using stars to hold it in place. He also burned the heads off of Hydra the multiheaded snake and buried the final immortal head under a rock. During this battle a crab
pinched Hercules’ toes and he crushed it to death. Hera felt pity for the crab and put it in the sky as the constellation we call Cancer today. There was also Ladon, the dragon, that he had no means of defeating which lead him to ask help from Atlas, the immortal Titan, who he tricked into holding the heavenly vault after securing the golden apples of the Hesperides. Bear was intrigued by these tales of valor and never tired of Bill’s stories of places and times far away
and long ago. Bear had stories of his battles with neighboring tribes being told and retold in the tribe to this day.

By the time the ship docked both were tired of talking and wanted to go find a place to drink. Sailors from all over the world could be found in Gibraltar, since it was a gateway to the Atlantic Ocean from the Mediterranean Sea. It was also a stop over for ships that had
circled around Africa from the Indian Ocean and the China Sea. Every race of man was represented and the taverns were known as dangerous places. It was New Years Eve on the Gregorian calendar and the streets were crowded with drunken sailors in every uniform and clothing on earth. This was Bear’s first time outside of the colonies and these streets were the most varied he had seen so far. There were pirates from the Barbary Coast, British Royal Navy, French Royal Navy, Spanish Fleet sailors, Italians, Greeks, Chinese, Arabs, Muslims, Catholics,
Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, monks, priests, Templer Knights, and merchant marines from every country on earth that had a sea port. Firecrackers were going off all over the place and apparently they were running late when it came to celebrating. Bill warned Bear that these could end up being some of the most dangerous places they have been to yet, and Bear was to be careful and avoid starting anything. Bill was sure they could meet their match here and he was never that sure of what kind of wound would be too much for their systems to survive. He got Bear to agree to not try to force anyone out of a chair in a corner of a room like was Bear’s usual habit. Bear reluctantly agreed, but refused to back down if confronted tonight. Bill asked him to at least try to figure out how many men he was engaging before beginning to swing the hatchet.

Bill and Bear didn’t stand out that much except for Bear’s height with the steel Mohawk helmet making him over 12 feet tall. There were looks as men appraised their chances in a fight, but no one in the early evening hours decided to get them a try. Even little men with 6-10 buddies or giant companions were not started anything. Suits of armor were surprisingly present, between the knights, the Japanese warriors, and the Spanish sailors, there was a lot of armor being worn. Either he never got off the ship when he was there last or he was never in this port before, because Bill couldn’t remember seeing such an array of fighting men in his life. He had a feeling they should go back to the ship and avoid all possibility of getting into something they couldn’t finish.

For some reason Bill looked up the hill and there, several blocks away were three men that were taller than the buildings. Bill had heard of the giants in South America, but didn’t believe the stories until that moment. Antonio Pigafetta, who sailed with Magellan in 1520, reported a race of giants. Magellan called them “Patagons” because of their big feet, so the southern tip of South America became known as Patagonia. In 1578 Sir Francis Drake’s ship chaplain, Francis Fletcher, wrote of the giants. In 1590 Anthonie Knivet, who sailed with Sir Thomas Cavendish, claimed he had seen dead bodies measuring over 12 feet in length. An now, after first being reported over 200 years earlier, Bill was seeing what had to be the giants of Patagonia coming down the narrow street straight for Bill and Bear. Bill stopped and told Bear to look up the hill. Bear did so, then asked Bill if the buildings next to the giants were one story or two. Bill said he
thought they were one story, and Bear said that that was good. Bill had never heard concern in Bear’s voice, and could readily see that it would make a difference if the three were a story taller than they were. The three men stopped as well as they talked over what had to be the only man in their lives that looked as tall and big as them, since Bear’s helmet was 4′ high and made him look 11-12′ tall. Although the men wore no armor, Bear loaded his cannon anyway and stared into the distance. Bill knew he would never get Big Bear, warrior chief of the Mohawk nation, to walk away from the potential danger that stood before them. Even the fact that the three men had stopped to discuss Bear was the kind of event that did not make Bill feel any better. Bear seemed to instinctively know that the seaport was not going to allow all four men to be there at the same time.

When the men were one block away, one of them let a spear loose with tremendous force and a 20′ projectile came straight for Bear’s chest. Because of the distance mostly, not for lack of velocity, Bear was easily able to sidestep the spear. It landed behind them in a stone storefront and buried itself several inches, leaving a quivering, wooden, three inches in diameter, shaft level to the street, 7′ in the air. It was now obvious there would be at least one big dead man in the street soon. The street emptied out in seconds as men ran inside buildings and scampered to windows and rooftops to witness what was about top happen.

Bear kneeled down on a knee and braced himself while bringing the cannon up for firing. Total silence filled the street as the five men looked at each other. Then the shorter of the three, that had thrown his spear, charged down the street with his huge knife leading the way. At fifty feet Bear fired the cannon and the ball hit the man in the neck and went right on through. The man was still running at top speed with no noticeable effect of the cannon ball having just passed through him. His arms and legs still pumping furiously down the street towards Bear and Bill but there was no war cry any more. His eyes were blank as he ran past Bear and into the side of a building, then slowly and quietly slumped to the ground. Bill stepped up behind Bear and opened the breech, pulled the next ball from the rack, pushed it into the barrel and followed with a bag of powder. Then quickly slammed the breech shut and inserted the firing cap and tapped Bear on the helmet to indicate that he was ready to fire again. Bill couldn’t certain but the cries of anguish from down the street indicated it might have been their brother.

As one, they burst into running, screaming blood curdling war cries as they came. It became obvious there wouldn’t be time for a third cannon round so he pulled two pistols out and braced for what would be a final assault. Both giants had their 20′ spears in a thrust position and were zig-zagging while charging making it hard for Bear to get a centered shot off. Bill could feel sweat running down his forehead as the seconds ticked by and Bear still hadn’t taken his shot. At 100′ the cannon fired and the first man’s right arm disappeared from view. The smoke from the cannon made it hard to see what happened to him right after the impact. Bear had already decided that the cannon was no longer an advantage and quickly pulled it out of the holder and dropped it to the ground. He also began to pull the armor breastplate off to gain additional mobility, figuring there were no guns to worry about. He left his helmet on however and his lower armor since there wouldn’t be enough time to shed all the armor. Bill looked at Bear’s face and there oozing out of his lips was the distinctive red color of the New Zealand fighting herb. Bear’s eyes were wide and focused on the charging men. Bill felt the old feeling of panic as he stepped back the usual 15′ minimum. Bear was on his feet at this point with the hatchet in his right hand and a long knife in his left. The first Patagonian was within 20′ and still had managed
to hang onto the spear, but could not control it well enough to land the spearhead on target. Bear easily sidestepped the tip, threw his head back in a Mohawk war cry, and swung the hatchet even with the shaft as it whistled by. The hatchet didn’t show any signs of getting
caught in bone or tendon while it finished its arc. The head dropped straight down from where it was cleanly severed, at Bear’s feet. The body, like the one before it continued the momentum it had for the last 30′ feet and ran headless into a wall, bouncing back and falling to the ground.

The third man stopped his charge and stared at his fallen comrades. They had never known defeat and the fact that two were dead before they even hit the ground was shocking. The man squinted as he took the Mohawk in. Bear was stone still except for the occasional muscle twitch that drew attention to how muscular he was. His pectoral muscles, each the size of most men’s entire chest, stood off his abdomen at least four inches. Now that Bill was able to actually see one of these giants fairly close he was impressed by the sheer size of them. Bill would have to stand on Bear’s shoulders to match the man. The two circled each other for what seemed like hours, but must have only been 3 or 4 minutes. The Patagonian threw down his spear and his three-foot knife and crouched into a wrestling stance, challenging Bear to hand-to-hand combat. Bear had always favored his hatchet, even though he was as good a shot with a gun as any man Bill had ever seen. So it took a lot to put the hatchet on the ground, as well as the three throwing knives he carried at all times. At first it looked like
a mismatch, The Patagonian’s hands were over a foot long and a foot wide, his arms were almost six feet long, and his head twice that of Bear’s. But Bear was barrel chested and with his helmet still on he still was the most frightening man Bill had ever seen.

They closed in on each other, ready to take advantage of any mistake the other might make. The giant reached for Bear’s head but Bear ducked. Then the giant lunged for Bear and managed to encircle Bear’s chest with his arms and quickly worked his way behind Bear still with his arms pinned. Bill was watching closely when he noticed the giant had a knife in his belt still. Bear didn’t seem particularly worried that this giant had him wrapped up like a piece of meat in a sandwich. Then the giant went for the knife and Bill yelled out that he had a knife. The giant let go of Bear and went for the rib cage with the knife, trying for a heart wound. Just as the point of the knife went in Bear’s side, Bear threw his head back and the Mohawk helmet with the steel spikes three feet long sunk deep into the chest, throat, and face of the giant. As Bear leaned forward the helmet stayed lodged in the big man with a spike in his sternum and one in
his skull bone that anchored the helmet. The giant had let go of Bear with the backward thrust and stood there shocked that this steel spiked thing was buried in his face and chest. Bear spun around and with both hands drove the helmet further in as he tried to knock the man off balance and on to the ground. He was partially successful as the giant fell backwards, only to catch himself at the last minute and stood upright again. Blood was running down the chest and legs of the giant and forming a pool at his feet. No sounds were coming from him as his wind pipe was full of steel. Bear ran over to his hatchet on the ground and went back to finish the man. The giant couldn’t see with a helmet stuck in his face but still tried to evade Bear’s
attack. It didn’t do any good though as Bear sliced off one arm then the other. Then one leg and as the man fell the other leg followed right after. Finally he flipped the man over and removed the head carefully so as not to dull his hatchet blade by hitting the helmet. Bear had to use his foot and pull hard to extract the helmet from the bones of the chest and skull. When he was done the giant lay in six pieces, huge pieces, but still pieces of meat and bone. Then with a Mohawk war cry he scalped all three men and hung the towel sized trophies on his belt.

Bear turned back to Bill and said it was time to go, he was getting thirsty. Bill walked alongside Bear as they turned the corner and walked towards town center. Men stared at the two of them in their armor with blood showing through Bear’s armor somewhat, the only evidence of the battle just moments before. Bear had an additional large bag hanging on his shoulder that Bill hadn’t seen earlier. Bear didn’t say anything about it and Bill didn’t ask.

As they walked along a crowd had formed that stayed way back that had been watching the battle unfold. They were following to see if there would be another fight that night since it wasn’t that late and Bear hadn’t been injured whatsoever. The center of town was alive with
fireworks and firecrackers going off in strings of explosive sounds. They ducked into a tavern Bear found acceptable with high ceilings after looking in and made their way to the back. The back corner table was occupied like all the other tables by drunken men. Only this table had 8-10 Viking looking men with axes and huge broadswords. They were so drunk they didn’t even notice the Mohawk standing at the edge of the table telling one of them to get up. The man turned to told Bear to get out or he’d skin him and use his manhood as a tobacco pouch. Just as this was said Bill cleared back quickly the usual 15′ feet and pulled out his pistols. The man went to shove Bear backwards when his left arm fell to the floor a clean flat wall of flesh at his socket glistening in the glow of the room. The man stared down at his where his arm used to be then screamed and reached for his sword with his right arm. Another flash of metal and the right arm joined the left one on the floor. By now the left socket was spurting blood in three-foot arcs with every beat of his heart. The tavern was crowded with the men who had followed them from the giant battle and joined with the overly curious already in the tavern to form a wall of flesh pushing Bill closer to the table that was about to erupt into a fight. He dropped to the floor still trying to keep open angles for possible shots as the fight got going. All the rest of the man’s group saw him standing there with no arms and a huge Indian standing next to him with a bloody hatchet. They all pushed away from the table and started to stand up while drawing their swords and dropping their mugs of beer. There was plenty of cursing and yelling about killing an Injun going on. Bear was busy wading into the pack with the hatchet in one hand and a throwing knife in the other, stabbing and severing as he went down one side of the table. He rounded the end of the table and was just starting down the other side when two gunshots were heard.

They were Bill’s pistols and the two men he shot had pistols of their own they had drawn to get the Mohawk in the back when he was busy with men in front of him. They had been at another table since they all couldn’t fit at the corner table. Bill went on to pull his last pistol and charge the three remaining men at the second table. They had no more pistols but did have a sword and two knives between them. Bill buried one of his throwing knives in the closest man and felt the second man move next to him and stab him twice in the stomach between the armor plates. He looked the man in the face before head butting him into unconsciousness. The third man swung his sword at Bill’s head, Bill ducked and came up with the throwing knife and quickly flipped it into the forehead of the man before he could bring his sword blade back around for a second swing. Bill finally had enough time to look back to where Bear should have fought his way to but didn’t see him in the hazy room. Bear was down with three men piled on top of him trying to get a good angle to bury their knives in to the hilt using the air slits in Bear’s armor. Bill flew across the table and landed on the top man long enough to reach around and slit his throat from ear to ear. Then he grabbed the second and repeated the move while Bear threw the third man off with one arm. They both scrambled to their feet just in time to face four more men with swords. Bill grabbed a sword off the floor and tossed it to Bear who had lost his hatchet and was looking for it among the bodies knee deep around the table. Bill then used his last shot to drop the lead man to buy time for Bear to get ready to fight with a sword. Bear threw it back to Bill and hurled his body into the air and took all three men to the floor. Bear then grabbed one around the throat and snapped the vertebra in a single twist of his hand then bit another in the neck and jerked his head, opening a jugular with his slightly filed canine teeth he used for flesh eating normally. The third had the wind knocked out of him and lay there like a dead man. Before Bear got to his feet he pushed one of the swords the men had up through the
unconscious man’s abdomen and on through the top of the head to make sure he didn’t suddenly come to and cause trouble. All 15 or 16 Vikings were on the floor when Bear sat down at the table and motioned for three pitchers of beer to be brought to the table. Bill joined him
and they sat in silence enjoying their beer. No one looked over at them for fear they would take even a look as an invitation to fight. Bear ordered anther three pitchers and when he was done he let out a loud belch and left the room with men silently sneaking peeks at the huge Mohawk. Bill and Bear went back to the ship, but before going onboard they jumped into the water and washed the blood off their armor. Back in the quarters, Bill checked his knife wounds that had at this point slowed to a small trickle. Bear didn’t have a single wound, so he spent his time sharpening his hatchet that had gotten somewhat dulled in the fight. Bill pretended to sleep as Bear ate his dinner of Patagonian meat.

They didn’t go on deck until they were under way. Apparently none of the crew had been in that particular tavern or none were willing to tell the captain or others about what they had seen. Bill and Bear watched the French coastline move by as they sailed with a strong tailwind. When the ship finally weighed anchor in Marseille they stayed in the cabin until dark then quietly slipped off the ship and started for the livery stables they had bought their last horses from, in hopes that the stable owner would not betray their confidence.

That night Bill thought about Seafoam in Versailles and Seabreeze back home in Philadelphia. The family was sure spread out thin on the earth these days.

TO BE CONTINUED!

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