"No! No!" a dozen cried. "'Rah for Sam. Go on! You're doin' fine!"
"Thank you," Brannan acknowledged. "Who's to make the first bid? Speakup, now, don't be bashful."
"Twenty-five dollars," called Juana Briones.
"Thirty," said a voice behind her, a voice that caused young Windham andhis sister to start, involuntarily. "McTurpin," whispered Inezto Adrian.
"Thirty-five," spoke Juana, imperturbably.
"Forty."
Brannan looked straight into McTurpin's eyes. "Sold to Juana Briones forthirty-five dollars," he said, as his improvised gavel fell on the tablebefore him.
"I bid forty!" stormed McTurpin. All eyes turned to him. But Brannanpaid him no attention. Someone laughed.
"Next! Who bids?" invited the auctioneer.
"Twenty-five," began Benito.
This time there were other bidders, all of whom Brannan recognizedcourteously and promptly. Finally, Benito's bid of fifty seemed to win.Then McTurpin shouted, "Fifty-five!"
Brannan waited for a moment. There were no more bids. "Sold to BenitoWindham for fifty dollars," he announced.
"Curse you!" cried the gambler, pushing forward, "you heard me bidhigher, Sam Brannan!"
Into his path stepped the tall figure of Robert Windham. "We are nottaking bids from convicts," he said, loudly and distinctly.
CHAPTER XV
THE BEGINNING OF LAW
McTurpin's look of blind astonishment at Windham's words was succeededby a whitehot fury. Two eyes gleamed with snake-like venom and two spotsof red glowed in his cheeks, as though each had felt the impact of asudden blow. For a moment he neither moved nor spoke. Then a hand, whichtrembled slightly, made a lightning move toward his hip.
"I wouldn't," drawled the voice of Robert Windham. His right hand,loosely in a pocket of his coat, moved slightly. "I've got you covered,Sydney Duck McTurpin ... if that's your real name."
The other's hand fell at his side. The two men's glances countered, heldeach other, one calm, dignified, unafraid; the other, murderous,searching, baffled. Presently, McTurpin turned and strode away. Windhamlooked after the departing gambler. "'Fraid I've spoiled his morning,"he remarked to Nathan Spear.
"Yes--to chance a knife or bullet in the back," retorted Spear,uneasily. Their further confidence was drowned in Brannan'sexhortations: "On with the sale, boys," he shouted. "The side show'sover ... with nobody hurt, thank Heaven! What'll you bid for a lot inthe southern part of town? They're a hundred varas square--four times asbig as the others. Not as central, maybe, but in ten years I bet they'llbring a thousand dollars. What's bid for a south lot, my hearties?"
"Twenty-five dollars," said Inez Windham.
"Oh, come, now, Senorita," cried the auctioneer, intriguingly,"twenty-five dollars for a hundred-vara lot. Have you no more faith inSan Francisco?"
"Its--all I have...." the girl spoke almost in a whisper.
Brannan frowned. He looked about him threateningly. "Does anyone bidhigher than Miss Windham?" he demanded. There was no response. Brannan'sgavel fell, decisively. "Sold!" he cried, and half a dozenvoices cheered.
Inez Windham made her way to the auctioneer's stand and handed threebanknotes to Alcalde Hyde. "But, my dear young lady," he expostulated,"you need only pay a fourth of the money down. Six dollars and a quarteris enough."
"Oh," said Inez, "then I could have bought more, couldn't I!" She turnedto Brannan, eagerly. "I could have bought four lots--if I'd only known."
Brannan smiled at her. Then he turned to the crowd. "What d'ye say,boys, shall we let her have 'em?" he inquired. Instantly the answercame: "Yes, yes, give her the four. God bless her. She'll bringus luck."
Impulsively, Inez mounted the platform; astonished at her own temerity,at the exuberance of some new freedom, springing from the barriers of ashielded life, she shouted at these strange, rough men about her: "Thankyou, gentlemen!" Then her mother's look of horrified, surprise brought asudden red into her cheeks. She turned and fled. Her father smiled,indulgently; Anita's frown changed presently into a look of whimsical,perplexed affection. "I am always forgetting, Inez mia," she said,softly, "that this is a new day--the day of the Americano."
She watched Benito shouting bids at the side of Adrian, vying with suchmen as Howard, Mellus, Clark and Leidesdorff in the quest for lots."Fifty of them have been sold already," Windham told her. "The auctionwill last three days because there are four hundred more."
Suddenly, Anita Windham put forth a hand and touched that of herhusband. "Buy one, for me, Roberto," she pleaded.
"But--" he hesitated, "Anita carissima, what will you do with arectangle of mire in this rough, unsettled place?"
"For sentiment," she answered, softly, "in memory of my father, who hadsuch abundant faith in San Francisco.... And, perhaps, Don Samuel isright. We may yet bless his name."
* * * * *
The summer of 1847 had passed. Inez Windham was the wife of AdrianStanley. He had given up his school for larger matters. Every day hisox-teams struggled over sandy bottoms to the tune of snapping whips andpicturesque profanity by Indian drivers. Men with shovels leveling thesand hills, piled the wagons high with shimmering white grains whichwere carried to the shore and dumped into pile-surrounded bogs till thetides left them high and dry. San Francisco reached farther and fartherinto the bay, wresting irregular nooks and corners from theebbing-flowing waters, building rickety, improvised piers, sometimeswashed out by the northers which unexpectedly came down with tempestuousfury. Quaint, haphazard buildings made their appearance, strangearchitectural mushrooms grown almost over night, clapboarded squareswith paper or muslin partitions for inner walls. Under some the tideswashed at their full and small craft discharged cargoes at their backdoors. Ships came from Boston, Bremen, Sitka, Chile, Mexico, theSandwich Islands, bringing all manner of necessities and luxuries.Monthly mails had been established between San Francisco and San Diego,as well as intermediate points, and there was talk of a pony express toIndependence, Missouri.
* * * * *
There were many crimes of high and low degree, from rifled tills to deadmen found half buried in the sands. Rumor told of thieves and murderersencamped in the hollow bowl of a great sandhill, where they slept orcaroused by day, venturing forth only at night. Aleck McTurpin's namewas now and then associated with them as a leader. Men were importingsafes from the States and carrying derringers at night--even thepeaceful Mormons. At this time Governor Mason addressed to Alcalde Hydean order for the election of a Town Council.
Adrian was full of these doings when he came home from an executivesession before which he had appeared as an expert on reclamation. "Theyare good men, Inez," he declared, enthusiastically. "They'll bring lawto San Francisco. And law is what we need more than all else, my dear."
"And how will they go about it, with no prison-house, no courts orjudges?" asked Inez, wonderingly.
"Oh, those will soon be provided," he assured, "When there is a will forlaw the machinery comes." He smiled grimly. "McTurpin and his ilk hadbetter look to themselves.... We are going after the gamblers."
Men with shovels, leveling the sand-hills, piled the wagons high withshimmering grains which were dumped into pile-surrounded bogs. SanFrancisco reached farther and farther out into the bay.]
CHAPTER XVI
GOLD! GOLD! GOLD!
San Francisco never could remember when the first rumor of gold reachedit. Gold was to mean its transformation from a struggling town into aturbulent, riotous city, a mecca of the world's adventurers.
Benito Windham, early in the spring of '48 brought home an echo of itfrom San Jose. One of Sutter's teamsters had exchanged a little pouch ofgolden grains for a flask of aguardiente. Afterward he had told offinding it in the tail-race of Marshall's mill on the south fork of theAmerican River. Little credence had been given his announcements. In thesouth, near San Fernando Mission, gold had long ago been found, but notin sufficient quantities to allure the
fortune hunter.
"See, is it not pretty?" asked Benito, pouring out a handful of theshining stuff which he had purchased from the teamster.
"Pretty, yes, but what's it worth?" asked Adrian, dubiously.
"Some say it's true value is $16 for an ounce," responded Inez, her eyesshining. "Samuel Brannan had a letter from a member of his band who saysthey wash it from the river sand in pans."
"Sam's skeptical, though," retorted Stanley. "And, as for me, I've amine right here in San Francisco." He spoke enthusiastically. "Movingsandhills into the bay. Making a new city front out of flooded bogs!That's realism. Romance. And what's better, fortune! Isn't it, my girl?"
Inez' eyes were proud. "Fortune, yes, and not a selfish one. For it ismaking others richer, San Francisco better."
"Which is well enough for you," returned Benito with a hint ofsullenness. "But I am tired of clerking for Ward & Smith at two dollarsa day. There's no romance in that." With a quick, restless motion he ranthe golden dust through his fingers again. "I hope they are true, thesestories. And if they are--" he looked at the others challengingly, "thenI'm off to the mines, muy pronto."
"Come," said Stanley, "let us have a game of chess together." ButBenito, with a muttered apology, left them and went out. San Franciscohad streets now, since the O'Farrell survey's adoption by the council.The old Calle de Fundacion had become Dupont street and below it wasKearny street, named after the General and former Governor. To the westwere parallel roads, scarcely worthy of the name of thoroughfares,christened in honor of Commodore Stockton, Surgeon Powell of thesloop-of-war Warren, Dr. Elbert Jones, Governor Mason, ChaplainLeavenworth, the present Alcalde, and George Hyde, the former one.Thomas Larkin, former counsel at Monterey, was also to be distinguished.East and west the streets had more haphazard names. Broadway andCalifornia were the widest, aside from the projected Market street,which would have a lordly breadth of 120 feet. Some were named afterPresidents--Jackson, Washington and Clay.
The council had authorized two long wharves, one at the foot of Claystreet, 547 feet long. This was a great undertaking and had caused muchdiscussion pro and con. But now it was almost completed and a matter ofmuch civic pride. Large ships, anchored at its terminus, weredischarging cargo, and thither Benito bent his course, head bent, hatpulled well down on his forehead, until a rousing slap on the back spunhim around almost angrily. He looked into the wise and smiling eyes ofEdward C. Kemble.
"Well, lad," the editor of the _Californian Star_ accosted, "I hearyou've been to San Jose. What's new up there, if I may ask you?"
"Very little ... nothing," said Benito, adding, "save the talk of goldat Marshall's mill."
"Pooh!" exclaimed the editor. "Marshall's mill, and Mormon island! Onewould think the famous fairy tale of El Dorado had come true."
"You place no credence in it, then?" asked Benito, disappointed.
"Not I," said Kemble. "See here," he struck one fist into the palm ofanother. "All such balderdash is bad for San Francisco. We're trying toget ahead, grow, be a city. Look at the work going on. That meansprogress, sustained stimulus. And along come these stories of goldfinds. It's the wrong time. The wrong time, I tell you. It'll interfere.If we get folks excited they'll pull out for the hills, the wilderness.Everything'll stop here.... Then, bye and bye, they'll comeback--busted! Mark my words, BUSTED! Is that business? No."
He went off shaking his head sagely. Benito puzzled, half resentful,gazed after him. He abandoned the walk to the dock and returned withlow-spirited resignation to his tasks at Ward & Smith's store.
* * * * *
For several months gold rumors continued to come. Citizens, fearingridicule, perhaps, slipped unobtrusively out of town, to test theirtruth. Kemble was back from a trip to the so-called gold fields.Editorially, he made sport of his findings. He had seen feather-brainedfortune-seekers gambling hopelessly with fate, suffering untoldhardships for half the pay they could have gained from "honest labor."
Now and then a miner, dirty and disheveled, came in ragged clothes togamble or drink away the contents of a pouch of "dust." It was at firstreceived suspiciously. Barkeepers took "a pinch for a drink," meaningwhat they could grasp with their fingers, and one huge-fisted manestimated that this method netted him three dollars per glass.
San Francisco awoke to a famine in butcher-knives, pans and candles.Knives at first were used to gouge out auriferous rock, and soon thesecommon household appurtenances brought as high as twenty-five dollarseach. Candles ere long were the equivalent of dollars, and pans werecheap at five dollars each.
Still San Francisco waited, though a constant dribble of departures madeat last perceptible inroads on its population. Then, one May afternoon,the fat was in the fire.
Samuel Brannan, who had been at his store in New Helvetia, rode throughthe streets, holding a pint flask of gold-dust in one hand, swinging hishat with the other, and whooping like a madman:
"Gold! Gold! Gold! From the American River!"
As if he had applied a torch to the hayrick of popular interest, SanFrancisco flamed with fortune-seeking ardor. Next morning many storesremained unopened. There were neither clerks nor proprietors. Soldiersfled from the garrison, and Lieutenant William T. Sherman was seengalloping northward with a provost guard to recapture a score ofdeserters. Children found no teacher at the new schoolhouse and formonths its doors were barred. Cargoes, half-discharged, lay on thewharves, unwarehoused. Crews left en masse for the mines, and shipsfloated unmanned at anchor. Many of them never went to sea again.
On every road a hegira of the gold-mad swept northward, many afoot, withheavy burdens, the more fortunate with horses and pack animals. Men,old, young, richly dressed and ragged--men of all conditions,races, nations.
The end of May, in 1848, found San Francisco a manless Eden. Stanley,struggling with a few elderly Indians and squaws to carry on his work,bemoaned the madcap folly bitterly.
Samuel Brannan rode through the streets, holding a pintflask of gold-dust in one hand ... and whooping like a madman: "Gold!Gold! Gold! From the American River!"]
But Benito, with shining eyes, rode on to what seemed Destiny andFortune. Ward & Smith's little shop lay far behind him. Even his sisterand her busy husband. Before him beckoned Gold! The lure, adventure,danger of it, like a smiling woman. And his spirit stretched forthlonging arms.
CHAPTER XVII
THE QUEST OF FORTUNE
By the end of June more than half of San Francisco's population haddeparted for the mines. They went by varied routes, mostly on horseback.Rowboats, which a month ago had sold for $50, were now bringing tentimes that sum, for many took the river route to the gold fields. Otherstoiled their way through the hills and the Livermore Valley. The ferryacross Carquinez Straits at Benicia, was thronged to the dangerof sinking.
Those who stayed at home awaited eagerly the irregular mails whichstraggled in from unsettled, unorganized, often inaccessible regionswhere men cut and slashed the bowels of the earth for precious metal, orwaded knee-deep in icy torrents, washing their sands in shallowcontainers for golden residue. No letter had come from Benito to Inez orAdrian. But Robert Windham wrote from Monterey as follows:
"My Children: Monterey is mad with the gold-lust, and our citizens aredeparting with a haste that threatens depopulation. Until recently wehad small belief in the tales of sudden fortune started by the finds atMarshall's mill. Alcalde Colton dispatched a messenger to the AmericanRiver on the 6th of June, and, though he has not returned, others havebrought the news he was sent to gain. On the 12th a man came into townwith a nugget weighing an ounce and all Monterey Buzzed with excitement.Everyone wanted to test it with acids and microscopes. An old womanbrought her ring and when placed side by side, the metal seemedidentical; it was also compared with the gold knob of a cane. Somedeclare it a humbug, but it is generally believed to be genuine gold.
"Governor Mason, who has been messing with Alcalde Colton and a navalofficer named Lieutenant Lanman, is now compe
lled to bake his own bread.The trio roast their coffee and cook what meals they eat. Even the negrowho blacked their boots went gold hunting and returned after a few weekswith $2000.
"Yesterday I met a rough-looking fellow who appeared to be starving. Hehad a sack on his shoulder in which was gold-dust and nuggets worth$15,000. You should have seen him a few hours later--all perfumed andbarbered, with shiny boots; costly, ill-fitting clothes and a marvelousdisplay of jewelry.
"Alcalde Colton is going to the mines next month. He laughed when hetold me of Henry Bee, the alguacil or jailor of San Jose. This man hadcharge of ten prisoners, some of whom were Indians, charged with murder.He tried to turn them over to the alcalde, but the latter was at themines. So Bee took his prisoners with him. It is said their digging hasalready made him rich and that he'll let them loose. There is no one tochide him. And no one to care."
Later in the day Sam Brannan and Editor Kemble looked in on theStanleys. "It's sheer insanity!" exploded Kemble. "The soldiers havegone--left their wives and their children to starve. Even the church islocked. Governor Mason has threatened martial law in the mining regions,which are filled with cutthroats and robbers. It's said he contemplatesgiving furloughs of two or three months to the gold-fevered troops whichremain. Was there ever such idiocy?"
"You're wrong, Ed," Brannan told him. "This gold boom is the biggestthing that's ever happened. It'll bring the world to our door. Why,Mason has reported that gold enough's been taken from the mines alreadyto pay for the Mexican war."