The Washington times., 1930-11-21
GANGSTER GIRL
How a Red-Haired Beauty
Overturned a Great City

rise from the waters at eDo-
tide like a vast island. a men
ace to all craft, unmarked by
lighthouse or buoy. Farther
down is Blackwell's Island,
where the scream of the siren
In the dead of night tells Of
some desperate prisoner who
had trusted his soul to the
dangerous waters In a bolt for
liberty.
Between the two. the two
drab forts, which one day
guarded the narrows from the
enemy, and out Of the chan.
mel of the ocean liners are an
chored. on an average, q half
dozen boats, mostly sail craft
which have fallen into deSue-
tude.
These hulks are left to the
mercy Of the heavy fist OF
the sea which day by day
pounds them to splinters. Their
once strong decks crumble in
to dust or the wind and waves
sweep them away, timber by
timber.
This ships graveyard is the
scene of shady and nefarious
business. These rotting dere-
licts are used as caches for
liquor, dope and every form of
contraband during the dead of
night. During the day, fisher
men row out to them, and cast
their lines from the crumbling
decks. The Shore.line on the
Bronx side Is dotted with fac
tories and railroad yards and
denticulated with deserted arms
Of land reclaimed from the sea.
At $3.50 o'clock on the night Of
the afternoon cyclone Tim Nc
CloSky was visited by Dopey
Benny Morris, two pot-bellied
launches gutted of everything
save powerful engines, S1oSed ST.
lently up the narrow channel
between Sunken Meadows and
the Bronx shore. The boats, one
following the other, picked their
way carefully up past the ST.
lent, ghost-like ships.
A Little Early
When the last Of the aban-
doned SchoonerS was sighted,
the engines were cut off and
the two boats floated with the
outgoing tide. AS they neared
the hulk a sharp voice came
from the fo'c'sle deck:
"Ahoy!"
"B. B." sang out the reply
from the forward launch.
"Oke-you're a little early
there's a ladder port 'midship."
The engines Of the two boats
Spat out their staccato into the
stiffness, and both craft were
quickly maneuvered to the port
side of the schooner. Then
came the believing voice of Cy-
clone Tim:
"Let 'em have It'll"
Almost instantly from both
the launches came in quick sue
cession sharp jabs of fire, the
rattling rat-tat-tat of two type
writer's broke into the night,
and the murderous streams of
lead thudded into the decayed
wood of the boat.
While the machine gun in
one launch continued the bar.
rage. the other boat drew along
side, rope ladders were tossed
up and hooked to the deck,
and a dozen numbering thieves
began to scramble aboard. The
machine gun fire stopped, and
the other boat pulled along
side.
Cyclone Tim was the first on
deck. He held a forty-five in
each fist, and there was a knife
in his belt. AS his men gained
the deck. they were greeted
with a fusillade and there was
a splash as one Of the strag.
glers' pitched over the side.
One bullet stung into the flesh
of Cyclone Tins left arm and
he roared in rage.
His m &C h | n e-gunnerS had
fallen behind two ruSted cap
STAINS and were sweeping the
deck. The dope guard, which
Cyclone Tim knew numbered
but a dozen men. were con-
cealed in and behind the pilot
house, and they were pepper.
ing away through door and
porthole.
The "a River Rats found
what cover they could. But
the fight was short and sweet
and bloody. After the first
typewriter salvo, which crashed
and cut through the ancient
timbers, Cyclone Tim beloved
the command to charge.
The Battle
The River Rats. all we'll
heeled, swarmed around the
pilot house. firing through the
wood. through the portfolios
and through the door. The
water.legged deck was covered
with blood and the night air
was filled with shots. curses
and groans. With his huge
shoulder the giant gang leader
crashed In the rotton door and
he pitched headlong inside.
With his right hand he Slashed
and cut with sharp-edged
knife and with the left he hit
and jabbed with the empty
automatic.
When 1t was over, Cyclone
Tim ordered the surviving dope
guards tied, the four dead ones
were kicked nvarhnard and