"All aboard for San Diego!" shouted a voice from a wagon, as it rumbled
past Darrell, who walked leisurely with a satchel in his hand, swinging
it unconsciously, lost in thought. He looked up and saw that the wagon
whence the voice came carried ten or twelve men, sitting on trunks and
packages and carpet-bags. These men Mathews and Gasbang had presented to
him, saying that they were settlers already residing at the Alamar
rancho, and others who were going down to take up claims, at the same
time that he would locate his. Darrell looked at his future neighbors
with feelings of anything but pleasure. The broad, vulgar face of
Gasbang, with its square jaws, gray beard, closely clipped, but never
shaved, his compressed, thin, bloodless lips, his small, pale, restless
eyes and flat nose, Darrell soon recognized, though the wagon was going
rapidly. Mathews' visage was equally noticeable for its ugliness, though
of a different type; for his face was long and shaved; his nose was
pinched and peaked and red; his cheeks were flabby; and his long, oily,
dusty, hair dragged over his neck in matted, meshy locks, while a
constant frown settled on his brow. As he was broad-shouldered and
rather tall, his face seemed made for some other man much weaker than
himself. His face looked mean and discontented, while his body seemed
strong and self-reliant.
The wagon had arrived and gone away, and the men had walked aboard the
boat, when Darrell, still swinging his satchel abstractedly, stood on
the wharf looking at the steamer as if not quite resolved to go. He felt
no sympathy, no liking, for any of those men with whom he was now
associated.
It was different to have Gasbang as his hired man, as before, but now he
was not under orders, and was much older. Years, moreover, had not
improved his low nature. Darrell had no higher opinion of the others. He
was sure these were not the sort of people whom his wife would like to
have for neighbors. He felt self-accused and irresolute. A shout from
Gasbang, who was observing him from the steamer's deck, made Darrell
look up quickly, ashamed of having betrayed his irresolution. "I can
return immediately, if things don't suit me," he thought, walking
towards the gang-plank.
"Come on. Your luggage is all aboard, I took care of it," Gasbang said,
coming to meet him. He snatched Darrell's satchel, in friendly
obsequiousness, to carry it for him. "Come along; you'll be left," said
he, and Darrell followed him, half-disgusted at his vulgar
officiousness. "I got your berth for you. The steamer is so crowded,
that men have to be crammed into rooms by the bunch, so you and I and
Mathews must room together."
"That is all right," said Darrell, with a shiver of disgust, and went to
take a seat on deck where he could be alone.
The bustle and hurry of getting off was over at last, and the steamer
was furrowing her way through the spacious bay of San Francisco towards
the Golden Gate. Groups of passengers stood here and there, admiring the
beautiful harbor and its surrounding country. Darrell sat alone, fixing
his gaze upon the receding verdure of Alameda County. Above that green,
undulating line of diminishing hills, which seemed to fly from him,
Darrell could see plainly one face, one form, beautiful to him as none
other could be, the face and form of his wife, his beloved Mary. This
was the first time he had ever left her for any longer time than a two
days' absence, since they were married. Now he might be absent several
months, for if he decided to locate in San Diego County, he would first
build a house before he sent for his family. He would first send for
Clarence--his eldest son--and then, when a comfortable home was
prepared, the family would come.
The voyage down the coast was made safely. Darrell had managed to keep
away from his fellow-travelers, to think of home unmolested.
It was a bright morning of January, 1872, when he stood far forward,
watching the course of the steamer Orizaba, as she made her way around
Point Loma, then between Ballast Point and the sandy peninsula, and
passing by La Playa, came in sight of San Diego city.
"Here we are," said John Gasbang; "how do you like the looks of our
little city, Mr. Darrell?"
"Very well; it is larger than I supposed, and the site of it seems very
pleasant."
"Pleasant! I should say it was. A perfect slope, sir, as gentle and
regular as if made to order. The best drained city in the world, sir,
when we put in sewers. Too poor for that, yet, sir, but we are coming to
it, sir, growing, growing, sir."
"When we get the railroad," added Mathews, with a mouth full of tobacco,
spitting profusely on the deck.
"Exactly, and we'll soon have that. Our news from Washington is very
encouraging. Tom Scott will visit us this summer," Gasbang said.
"I like a town with plenty of trees," said Darrell, with his gaze fixed
on the approaching panorama, thinking that his wife would be pleased
with the place, she being so fond of trees. "I had no idea you had so
many trees about you. Many are small, yet, but all seem healthy."
"And health-giving trees, they are, too. Most of them are eucalyptus and
pepper trees, the healthiest in the world. You never hear of any
malarial fevers in San Diego, sir, never. Our perfect climate, the fine
sloping ground of our town site, our eucalyptus trees, sea breezes and
mountain air, make San Diego a most healthy little city," said Gasbang.
"That is an excellent recommendation, as life is not worth having
without health," Darrell observed.
"We have it here," Hughes said. "A man has to be very imprudent not to
keep well in our climate, sir. All we want now is a little stimulus of
business prosperity, and the railroad is sure to bring us that. Then San
Diego will be the best place on the coast for a residence."
The loud report of a cannon, close by, made Darrell jump and look around
quickly, not knowing what that explosion could mean.
"That is our visiting card to the people of San Diego, to announce our
coming," said the captain, laughingly. "I am sorry it startled you."
"That is nothing. I didn't know I had nerves. I believe that is what
women call it. I was not expecting such a military salute," Darrell
said.
"O yes, we always give it. The San Diego people are very military. At
least, I should say the settlers on Senor Alamar's rancho are, as I hear
they practice rifle shooting there all the time," the captain said,
looking at Mathews and Gasbang.
"That is a shot at us," Gasbang answered, laughing.
"But it is a blank cartridge, meant not to hurt," the captain replied.
"The rifle practice is in dark nights," said a young Spaniard, who had
been listening at what was said by the others.
"Or in the daytime, if the cattle deserve it," Mathews said.
"That is very creditable and brave, to shoot tame cows," the Spaniard
rejoined.
"Perhaps you had better come and try it," Mathews returned.
"Thank you. It is the mischievous brutes I would like to shoot, not the
good, useful cattle;" so saying, the Spaniard walked away, followed by
the scowls of the settlers.
"That is impudence for you," Gasbang exclaimed.
"Those greasers ain't half crushed yet. We have to tame them like they
do their mustangs, or shoot them, as we shoot their cattle," said
Mathews.
"O, no. No such violent means are necessary. All we have to do is to
take their lands, and finish their cattle," said Hughes, sneeringly,
looking at Darrell for approval. But he did not get it. Darrell did not
care for the Spanish population of California, but he did not approve of
shooting cattle in the way which the foregoing conversation indicated.
To do this, was useless cruelty and useless waste of valuable property,
no matter to whom it might belong. To destroy it was a loss to the
State. It was folly.
"Why must cattle be shot? Can't they be kept off, away from your crops
without shooting them?" he asked.
"Not always. At first, that is, for the first three years after we
located our claims," Gasbang said; "we had to shoot them all the time.
Now the Don has sold a good many, or sent them to the mountains, so that
few have been killed."
"I suppose fencing would be too expensive."
"Phew! It would be ruinous, impossible," Mathews said.
"Mr. Mechlin is the only one who has attempted to put up any fences,"
Romeo said, who had been listening in silence.
"He did so, because he is an old hypocrite," Mathews said.
"Because his daughter Lizzie is going to marry Gabriel Alamar, and of
course, they have to be on friendly terms," said Hughes.
"That ain't the reason. He fenced a hundred acres the first year, and he
never sows outside, so that he's not at all troubled by the Don's
cattle," said Romeo.
"But Gabriel is going to marry Lizzie all the same, and the two families
are as thick as can be. Old Mechlin has gone back on us. I wish he would
go away," Mathews said.
"Why should he go? He paid a very good price for his farm, and has made
many improvements," said Romeo.
"Who did he buy from?" asked Darrell.
"From me. I sold him that claim, and took up another a mile up the
valley," said Mathews.
"And a good bargain it was, too," Romeo observed.
Mathews gave him a black look, but made no answer.
The steamer had now reached the wharf. The deck was filled with
passengers and their baggage ready for shore. Pittikin, with wife and
daughters blonde and freckled, and Hughes, with his wife and daughters
dark and gypsy-looking, were all there, ready for their drive to Alamar.
There were several wagons, light and heavy, waiting to convey the
newly-arrived and their luggage to the Alamar rancho. Darrell, having
his choice of conveyances, preferred to go in a light wagon with Romeo
Hancock, but Gasbang and Mathews joined him. Miller and Hager had come
to meet their prodigal sons, who had been in San Francisco for several
months, when they had permission to remain only a few weeks. But they
had fallen into Peter Roper's company, and that individual had
represented the fascinations of whiskey most alluringly to them,
advising them to have a good time now that they had the opportunity.
They yielded to the tempter, and now had returned home like repentant
prodigals.
In a few hours Darrell was driving by Don Mariano Alamar's house, a
one-story mansion on a low hill, with a broad piazza in front, and in
the interior a court formed by two wings, and a row of rooms variously
occupied at its back. That the house was commodious, Darrell could see.
There was a flower garden in front. At the back there were several
"_corrales_" for cattle and horses. At the foot of the hill, on the
left, there was an orchard, and some grain fields enclosed with good
fences.
Darrell took notice of all these particulars. He also noticed that there
were females on the front piazza. He was taken to see the best
unoccupied lands to make his selection. He ran his practiced eye over
the valley from the highest point on the hill. He then came to the next
bench; he stopped there, also, and finally came to the broad slope of
the foothills.
"I think I'll locate here," said he, "if no one else has already filed a
claim to this land."
This he said to his fellow-settlers, all being present, addressing all.
"I am sure I have no objection," said Hughes.
"Nor I, neither," said Gasbang. "What do you say, Pittikin and Mathews?
Do you know _if_ this land is located, or who done it?"
Mathews shook his head in the negative, and kept on chewing his tobacco
in silence.
Pittikin said, "I reckon nobody is located here, and if they _done it_,
why don't they leave stakes? They leave no stakes, no notice to
settlers; they can't make any row if somebody else takes the land."
"Well, I want to respect everybody's right; so I want you all to bear
witness, that I found no stakes or notices of anybody. I don't want to
jump anybody's claim; I want a fair deal. I shall locate two claims
here--one in my own name and one for my oldest son, Clarence," said
Darrell.
"You'll take 320 acres?" asked Hughes.
"Yes, 320 acres,--according to law," replied Darrell.
"All right. Let us measure them now," said Gasbang. "We have time to
mark the limits and put the corner stakes. I have a cord here in my
wagon, which is a chain's length. That will do the business."
"That will do temporarily, I suppose; but I'll have the two claims
properly surveyed afterwards according to law," Darrell said.
"Of course, you will. We all know you will do the fair thing by
everybody, and follow the law strictly," said Hughes. In which opinion
all concurred.
"Have you all made your selections?" Darrell asked Hughes.
"Yes; Pittikin and I will locate near Hancock. We like that valley; it
is further off, but better soil," said Hughes. "My oldest boy will put a
claim near me, and Miller's two boys have staked theirs also. I think
we'll like that location better."
"I am glad you like it. I think this is good enough soil for me,"
Darrell said.
"It is good enough for anybody. The whole rancho is all good soil. Let
us put the stakes now," said Gasbang; and assisted by Mathews, Romeo
Hancock and Sumner Pittikin, Darrell proceeded by making a rough guess
to measure 320 acres (more or less), and put the corner stakes.
"This is what I call business," said Gasbang, carrying cheerfully one
end of the rope used for measurement; "and all inside of the law. That
is the beauty of it--all perfectly lawful."
And so it was.
The stakes having been placed, Darrell felt satisfied. Next day he would
have the claim properly filed, and in due time a surveyor would measure
them. All would be done "according to law," and in this easy way more
land was taken from its legitimate owner.
This certainly was a more simple way of appropriating the property of
"_the conquered_" than in the days of Alaric or Hannibal.
There would have been bloodshed then. Now tears only flowed; silent
tears of helpless discouragement; of a presentiment of impending
desolation.
Sadly Dona Josefa and her daughters had witnessed from the half-closed
shutters of their bedroom windows Mr. Darrell's performance, and fully
anticipated serious trouble therefrom.
Don Mariano Alamar, Gabriel and Victoriano--his two sons--had also
silently witnessed Mr. Darrell's _lawful_ appropriation of their own
property. Gabriel was pale and calm. Victoriano was biting his lips, and
his face was flushed.
"The government has for sale hundreds of millions of acres, but yet
these men must come and take my land, as if there was no other," said
Don Mariano, sadly.
"And as we pay the taxes on the land that they will cultivate, our taxes
will double next year," Gabriel added.
"Undoubtedly. That climax to injustice has been the most fatal of all
the hardships imposed upon us. George could not believe me when I told
him that we (the land-owners) have to pay the taxes on the land
cultivated by the pre-emptors, and upon all the improvements they make
and enjoy. When he at last understood that such unfair laws did exist,
he was amazed, but understood then why the settlers wished to prolong
litigation, since it is '_the natives_' who must bear the burden of
taxation, while the titles are in the courts, and thus the pre-emptors
hold the land free."
"I wish we were squatters," Victoriano remarked.
"During litigation, yes; but there have been cases where honest men
have, in good faith, taken lands as squatters, and after all, had to
give them up. No, I don't blame the squatters; they are at times like
ourselves, victims of a wrong legislation, which unintentionally cuts
both ways. They were set loose upon us, but a law without equity recoils
upon them more cruelly. Then we are all sufferers, all victims of a
defective legislation and subverted moral principles."