A few days more went by, but the old joy of the Club was no more.
Wright was gone, and all that had been heard from Miller was a brief
note thanking the Club for their kindness, but giving no intimation that
he contemplated returning.
One morning about the twenty-fifth of the month the five miners who were
left went away to their work as usual, but all were unusually depressed,
as though a sense of sorrow or of approaching sorrow was upon them.
As said before, Brewster was working in the Bullion. Toward noon of this
day word was passed down into the other mines that an accident was
reported in the Bullion; some said it was a cave and some that it was a
fire, but it was not certainly known.
Each underground foreman and boss was instructed to see that the
bulkheads, which, when closed, shut off the underground connections
between the several mines, were made ready to be closed at a moment's
notice, in case the accident proved to be a fire. The whisper of "fire
in the mine" is a terrible one on the Comstock, for in the deeps there
are dried timbers sufficient to build a great city, and once on fire
they would make a roaring hell.
When the news of an accident in the Bullion was circulated in the other
mines, but one thought took form in the minds of the other four members
of the Club. Brewster was working in the Bullion, and it might be that
he was in peril.
Within half an hour, and almost at the same moment, Carlin, Corrigan,
Ashley and Harding appeared at the Bullion hoisting works.
The superintendent stood at the shaft, and though perfectly
self-contained, he was very pale and it needed but a glance at his face
to know that he was either suffering physically or was greatly troubled.
By this time, too, the wives of the miners at work in the Bullion had
commenced to gather around the works.
Mingled with the condensing vapors at the mouth of the shaft, there was
the ominous odor of burning timbers.
Just as the Club miners entered the Bullion works, the bell struck and
the cage came rapidly to the surface. There was nothing on the cage, but
tied to one of the iron braces was a slip of paper. This the
superintendent seized and eagerly scanned.
Turning to a miner who stood near, he said: "Sandy, go outside and tell
those women to go home. Say to them that the accident involves only one
man, and he has no family here. His name is Brewster, and we hope to
save him yet."
At this the four members of the Club sprang to the shaft and demanded to
be let down.
They were sternly ordered back by the superintendent.
"But," said Carlin, fiercely, "this man whom you have named is like a
brother to us; if he is in danger we must go to his rescue."
The rest were quite as eager in their demands. Seeing how earnest they
were, the superintendent said: "You are strangers to the mine. The whole
working force from all the levels has been sent to the point of the
accident. You would only be in the way."
But they still insisted, vehemently. Said Ashley: "Your men are working
for money, and will take no risks; it is different with us."
"You do not know what you are doing in refusing us," said Harding; "that
man's life is worth a thousand ordinary lives."
"Suppose your brother were in danger and some man stood in the way
forbidding you to go to him, what would you think?" asked Carlin.
"Yees are superintindint and rule this mine," said Corrigan, "but you
have no rule over min's lives, and this is a matter of the grandest life
upon the lode, and yees have no right to refuse us."
"Very well," said the superintendent; "if you men can be of any possible
use you shall be sent down."
On a bit of paper he wrote a brief note, tied it to the frame of the
cage and sent it down. When the cage disappeared in the shaft, he turned
to the men and explained that he had been upon the surface but a few
minutes; that long before a drift had been run off from the main gallery
at the twenty-one hundred-foot level some fifty feet through ground so
hard that it had never required timbering. At the farther end soft
ground had been encountered and a stringer of ore. Following this
stringer a lateral drift had been run some fifty feet each way. This
lateral drift was timbered when it was run. No ore of any value having
been uncovered the work was abandoned, and since then the drift had been
used as a storage place for powder and candles. That morning the foreman
had gone into this drift with a surveyor to establish some point which
the engineer required. To assist the surveyor the foreman had stuck his
candlestick into a timber and had gone with the surveyor to one end of
this lateral drift.
Looking back they saw that the candle had fallen against the timber,
which was dry as tinder.
It had caught on fire and the flame had already run up and was in the
logging.
They rushed back, and though not seriously injured, were pretty badly
scorched. All the miners in the mine were called to that point, and the
work of putting out the fire, or of keeping it from connecting with the
main drift, was begun. The superintendent was at the time on the
twenty-four hundred-foot level. He had hastened to the spot at the first
alarm. A donkey pump was at the twenty-one hundred-foot station, with
plenty of hose. This was running within fifteen minutes. The fire, after
burning a little way in each direction along the lateral drift,
exhausting the oxygen in the air, ceased to flame and just burrowed its
way through the timbers. This produced a dense and sifting smoke.
A heavy stream of water was turned into this drift, the superintendent
directing the work until, under the heat and smoke, he had fainted and
been brought to the surface.
Holding up the note which had come up on the cage, he said the man
Brewster who was holding the nozzle of the hose had gone too far into
the drift, under where the logging had burned away and had been caught
in a cave, but the rest were working to release him.
The bell sounded again and in three minutes the cage shot out of the
shaft. The paper which it brought had only these few words: "If you can
send two (2) first-class miners, all right, but not more. Any others
would only be in the way. It is a very dangerous place, don't send any
but thorough men." This was signed by the foreman.
When the superintendent read the note the four men rushed forward, and
for a moment their clamors were indescribable.
"It is my place to go," said Ashley. "I have as little to live for as
any of you. Do not hold me back."
"Stand back," said Harding. "I would rather never go home than not to go
with Brewster."
Seizing Harding by the arm, Carlin hurled him back, exclaiming: "Art
crazy, boy? Your bark is but just launched; this is work for old hulks
that are used to rocks and storms."
Over all the voice of Corrigan rang out: "Hould, men! This is me place.
Me life has been but a failure. I will make what amind I can," and he
sprang upon the cage, and, seizing a brace with either hand, turned his
glittering eyes upon his friends.
At length over the Babel the voice of the superintendent was heard
commanding "Silence!"
"You all alike seem determined," he said, "but only two can go. You will
have to draw lots to decide." This proposition was with many murmurs
agreed to. The superintendent prepared four bits of paper, two long and
two short ones. He placed the slips in his hat, and, holding it above
the level of the men's eyes, said: "You will each draw a slip of paper;
the two who draw the long slips will go, the others will remain. Go on
with the drawing!"
The long slips were drawn by Corrigan and Carlin. With smiles of triumph
these two shook hands with the others, who were weeping. Said Corrigan:
"Whativer may happen, do not grave, boys. I will see yees again before
night, or--I will see me mither."
The two men stepped upon the cage. In his old careless way, Carlin said:
"Don't worry about me, boys! I will come back by and by and bring
Brewster, or I will know as much as Wright does before night."
With these words the two devoted men disappeared with the cage into the
dreadful depths.
With bitter self-reproaches the two remaining men sat down and waited. A
half hour went by, when the bell struck and the engine began to hoist.
The cage again bore only a slip of paper. This the superintendent read
as follows:
"We have had another cave; another man is hurt; all the miners are much
exhausted. Send a couple more men if possible."
The two men sprang upon the cage, the superintendent joined them, and
they were rapidly lowered into the depths. Reaching the fatal level,
they learned that Corrigan and Carlin, on going down, had insisted on
taking the lead; that they had partly uncovered Brewster when another
cave had come. It had caught and buried Corrigan, but Carlin, though
stunned and bruised somewhat, had escaped. By this time the smoke had
partially cleared, but the drift was intensely hot.
The superintendent again took charge. Timbers and heavy plank were
brought. The drift was rapidly shored up, and within an hour Harding and
Ashley recovered the body of Corrigan.
There was very little rock over him, but he was quite dead. He had been
struck and crushed by a boulder from the roof of the drift. He was
bending down at the time, the boulder struck him fairly in the back of
the neck and he must have died instantly.
Very soon Brewster's body, too, was uncovered. He also was dead. He had
been buried by decomposed rock, and had died from asphyxia.
The bodies were carried to the shaft; each was wrapped in a blanket, and
that of Corrigan was placed upon the cage. The superintendent, with
Carlin and two other miners, stepped on the cage and it was hoisted to
the surface. It returned in a few minutes, and this time Brewster's body
was placed upon it, and Harding and Ashley, with two other miners,
accompanied it to the surface.
In the daylight the faces of the dead were both peaceful, as though in
sleep. The bodies were sent away to an undertaker, and as Brewster had
been heard to say, at Wright's funeral, that if he should die in the
West, he would want his body sent East to be buried beside that of his
wife, word was sent to the undertaker to try and get the coroner's
permission and then to embalm the body of Brewster.
The three remaining members of the Club were carried to their dreary
home. Besides their sorrow, they were terribly exhausted. Harding had
fainted once in the drift; Carlin was, besides being worn out, badly
bruised, and Ashley was so exhausted that upon reaching the surface he
was seized with chills and vomiting. The Professor, the Colonel and Alex
were at the hoisting works when they were hoisted to the surface. They
accompanied them home and remained, ministering to them until late in
the night, when at last all were sleeping peacefully.
With the morning the desolateness of their situation seemed more
oppressive than ever. Yap Sing had prepared a dainty breakfast, but when
they entered the dining room and saw only three plates where a few days
before there had been seven, it was impossible for them to eat a
mouthful. Each drank a cup of black coffee, but neither tasted food.
Returned to the sitting room, it was determined to examine the effects
of their dead friends. There was little in Corrigan's bundles except
clothing and a memorandum book. This book had $150 in greenbacks, and a
great many memorandums of stocks purchased, extending over a period of
three years. These, a few words at the bottom of the pages showed, had
almost all been sold either on too short margins or for assessments.
Corrigan's humor ran all through the book in penciled remarks. The
following are samples:
"I had a sure thing; was the only mon in the sacret. I was but one and I
caught it."
"I bate Mr. Broker mon. He bought for me on a fifty per cint margin, and
it broke that fast he could not get out from below it."
"This was a certain sure point. Bedad, I found it that same."
"I took the Scorpion to my bosom and, the blackguard, he stung me."
"I stuck to Jacket until I had not a ghoust of a jacket to me back."
"I made love to Julia. She was more ungrateful than Maggie Murphy."
But between these same pages was found the letter Corrigan had received
announcing his mother's death, and this was almost illegible because of
the tear stains upon it.
In Brewster's trunk everything was found in the perfect order which had
marked all his ways.
A book showed every dollar that he had received since coming to the
Comstock; his monthly expenses, the sums he had sent his sister for his
children, and his bank book showed exactly how much was to his credit.
Another paper was found giving directions that if anything fatal should
happen to him, his body should be returned to Taunton, Massachusetts,
and if anything should be left above the necessary expenses of
forwarding his body, the amount should be sent to his sister, Mrs.
Martha Wolcott, of Taunton, for his children. The paper also contained
an order on his banker for whatever money might be to his credit, and a
statement that he owed no debts. There were also sealed letters directed
to each of his children. Another large package was tied up carefully and
endorsed, "My children's letters. Please return them to Taunton without
breaking the package."
The bank book showed that there was eleven hundred and sixty-three
dollars to his credit.
Brewster was a man that even death could not surprise. He was always
ready.
When the examination was completed, Carlin suggested to Ashley that he
take the book, call at the bank, see if the amount was correct and if
the bank would pay it on the order found in the book.
Ashley hesitated. "There is something else, Carlin, that should be done,
but I do not know how to go about it. That sister should be advised of
her brother's death, that she may communicate the news to Brewster's
children."
"I have been thinking of that ever since yesterday," said Carlin, "but I
can not do it."
"I have been thinking of it, too," said Harding, "but by evening we can
determine when the body will be sent and can include everything in one
dispatch."
Ashley went away, leaving Carlin and Harding together.
"I am not sure," said Harding, "but I begin to believe that the man who
invented dealing in stocks was an enemy to his race. Look at the result
of Corrigan's life; think what poor Wright had to show for all his years
of toil. They could not have fared much worse had they dealt in poker or
faro straight."
"And they are only two," responded Carlin. "There are three thousand
more miners like them here and a hundred times three thousand other
people scattered up and down this coast, trying to get rich in the same
way, while here and in San Francisco a dozen men sit behind their
counters and draw in the earnings of the coast. It is worse than folly,
Harding. It is a kind of lunacy, a sort of an every day financial
hari-kari."
By this time it was past eleven o'clock in the forenoon. Suddenly,
without a preliminary knock, the door opened and Miller stood before the
two men. They sprang to their feet and welcomed him, the tears starting
to all their eyes as they shook hands.
"Oh, Miller!" said Harding, "why did you go away? We have had only
trouble and sorrow since."
"It was not fair of you, Miller," said Carlin, "You held our friendship
at a miserably low price."
"You are awfully good," said Miller; "but you are looking from your
standpoint. I looked from mine, and I could not do differently. But tell
me about this dreadful business. I saw about Wright, and read the
account of this fearful accident of yesterday as I was coming up in the
train, but still, there must have been some blundering somewhere."
Everything was explained, and also what had been discovered of the
effects of the dead miners.
"Poor grand souls," said Miller. "It was a tough ending. Never before
did three such royal hearts stop beating in a single fortnight on the
Comstock."
Ashley returned, and, with words full of affectionate reproach, greeted
Miller.
Ashley had found everything at the bank as the book indicated, and the
undertaker had promised that Brewster's remains should be ready for
shipment on the evening of the next day.
Then the question of the dispatch to the family came up again.
"Before deciding upon that," said Miller, "let me tell you something:
"When I took the money to pay the bills, I had, with a little of my own,
something over seven hundred dollars. I bought on a margin of only
twenty-five per cent.--the broker was my friend--all the Silver Hill
that the money would purchase. I thought I had a sure thing. My
informant was a Silver Hill miner. I believed I could multiply the money
by three within as many days. In five days it fell thirty per cent. What
could I do? A note from the broker asking me to call, received the
evening before I went away, decided me. I went away, but when I saw by
dispatches that Wright had been killed, and I could get nothing to do, I
determined to come back.
"Well, I met my broker this morning. He asked me to call at his place.
There he informed me that the day he purchased Silver Hill he met the
superintendent and learned from him that there was not yet a
development; that the stock was more liable to fall than to rise for two
or three weeks to come, the rage being just then for north end stocks.
He could not find me, and accordingly, on his own responsibility, he
sold the stock, losing nothing but commissions and cost of dispatches.
"There was a little lull in Sierra Nevada that day, and, believing it
was good, he bought with my money and on my account. As it shot up he
kept buying. At last, a week ago, he had two thousand shares and sold
five hundred, and by the sale paid himself all up except $21,000.
"Hearing day before yesterday that I had left the city, he sold the
other fifteen hundred shares at $157. This morning he handed me a
certificate of deposit in my favor for $213,000, and here it is."
Most heartily did the others congratulate Miller on his good fortune.
But Miller said: "Congratulate yourselves! I used the money of the Club.
The profit I always intended should be the Club's. Wright and Corrigan
and Brewster are gone, but you are left and Brewster's children are
left. If I am correct, $213,000 divided by five, makes exactly $42,600.
That is, you each have $42,600 on deposit in the bank, and a like sum is
there for two fatherless and motherless children in Massachusetts."
It was useless to try to reason the matter with Miller. He merely said:
"It shall be my way. It was a square deal. I meant it so from the first;
only," he added, sadly, "I wish Wright and Corrigan and Brewster could
have lived to know it." Then turning quickly to Harding, he said:
"Harding, how much is that indebtedness which has worried you so long?"
Harding replied that the mortgage was $8,000, while the personal debts
amounted to $3,000 more.
"Then," said Miller, "you can pay the debts and have nearly $30,000 more
with which to build your house and barns, to stock and fix your place
for a home."
The tears came to Harding's eyes, but he could not answer.
"Never mind, old boy," said Miller; "did I not tell you I would make
things all right for you?"
Then Carlin got up, went into the adjoining room, brought out the watch
which had been Wright's and told Miller how Wright, under the shadow of
death, had bequeathed the watch to him.
For the first time Miller broke down and burst into tears.
When he recovered somewhat the command of himself, he said:
"Now, I have a proposition to make. Let us all give up this mining. It
is a hard life, and generally ends either in poverty or in a fatal
accident. I am going to San Francisco. The place to make money is where
there is money, and I am going to try my skill at the other end of the
line."
"You are right," said Carlin. "I am never going down into the Comstock
again. I made up my mind to that yesterday. I am going back to
Illinois."
"And I am going to Pennsylvania," said Ashley.
"I gave up mining yesterday, also," said Harding; "at least on the
Comstock. I do not mind the labor or the danger, but it is not a life
that fits a man for a contented old age."
Suddenly Miller said: "Harding, were you ever in the Eastern States?"
"No," said Harding; "the present boundary of my life is limited to
California and Nevada."
"Well," said Miller, "if we all give ourselves credit for all the good
we ever dreamed of doing, still neither of us, indeed, all of us
together, are not worthy to be named on the same day with James
Brewster. His body must go East, and on its arrival there only an aged
woman and two little orphan children await to receive it. I think it
would be shabby to send the dust of the great-hearted and great-souled
man there unattended. What say you, Ashley and Harding, will you not
escort the body to its old home?"
Both at once assented. A dispatch was prepared announcing Brewster's
death, and adding that his body would be shipped the next evening
escorted by two brother miners, Herbert Ashley and Samuel Harding. This
was signed by the superintendent of the Bullion company.
The superintendent also made a written statement that he had examined
the effects of Brewster and found that, less the expenses of embalming,
transportation, etc., together with $80 due Brewster from the Bullion
company, there was left the sum of $840.25. With this statement a bill
of exchange on Boston for the $840.25 was enclosed, and Ashley took
charge of it.
The bills were all paid. The money due Brewster's orphans, according to
Miller's calculation, was also converted into a bill of exchange payable
to Mabel and Mildred Brewster. Ashley and Harding took charge of the
first and left the second of exchange to be forwarded by Colonel Savage,
and before night all preparations for leaving the next day were made.
The next morning Corrigan's funeral took place with all the ostentatious
parade which Virginia City was famous for in the flush times when some
one who had been a favorite had passed away. At the hall of the Miners'
Union Colonel Savage delivered a eulogy which was infinitely more
beautiful than some of the orations which have been treasured among the
gems of the century.
He was followed by Strong in a eulogy that touched every heart. Here is
a sample:
"Gentle and unpretentious was Barney Corrigan. There was no disguise in
his nature. Could his heart have been worn outside his breast, and could
it, every moment, have thrown off pictures of the emotions that warmed
it, to those who knew him well, those pictures would have thrown no new
light on his nature.
"Generous and true was he; true as a man, a friend a citizen. His walk
through life was an humble one, but it was, nevertheless, grand. So
brave was he that he performed heroic acts as a matter of course, and
all unconscious that he was a hero.
"So he toiled on, his path lighted by his own genial eyes, and strewn
behind him with generous deeds.
"When death came to him the blessed anaesthetic which made him
indifferent to his sufferings was the thought that in a little while he
would rescue a friend in peril, or feel the grasp of the spirit hand of
his mother.
"Noble was his life; consecrated will be the ground that receives his
mortal part. The world was better that he lived; it is sadder that he
has died.
"With tears we part with him; our souls send tender 'all hails and
farewells' out to his soul that has fled, and we pray that his sleep may
be sweet."
The Colonel, Professor and Alex, with Miller, Carlin, Ashley and
Harding, rode in the mourning carriages. These were followed by a long
line of carriages and quite one thousand miners on foot. At the grave
the services were simply a prayer and a hymn sung by the Cornish
quartette. They made his grave close beside that of Wright's; they
ordered a duplicate stone to be placed above it, and left him to his
long sleep.
Yap Sing was paid off and a handsome present made him, the furniture and
food in the Club house was distributed among poor families in the
neighborhood, and on the evening train the four living men, with the
body of their dead friend, moved out of Virginia City.
A great crowd was at the depot to see them off, and the last hands wrung
were those of the Professor, the Colonel and Alex.
On the way to Reno, Carlin said to Miller: "One thing I cannot
understand, Miller; whatever possessed that broker to turn over that
money to you when he was not compelled to?"
"I have no idea in the world," said Miller, "except that we are old
friends."
"But did you never do him any great favor, Miller--any particularly
great favor?" asked Carlin.
"No," said Miller, "I cannot think of any." But after a moment's silence
he added: "By the way, come to think of it, I did do him a little favor
once. I saved his life."
"How was it?" asked Carlin. "Why," answered Miller, "he and myself had a
running fight with a band of renegade Indians. There were seven or eight
of them at first, and we got them reduced to four, when one of them
killed the broker's horse. It was a very close game then. It required
the promptest kind of work. When the horse fell the broker was thrown
violently on his shoulder and the side of his head and was too stunned
to gather his wits together for a few minutes. I had a gentle horse, so
sprang down from him and let him go. I got behind a low rock and
succeeded in stopping two of the Indians, when the others concluded it
was no even thing and took the back track. But the broker was "powerful"
nervous when I got up to him. The worst of all was, I had to ride and
tie with him for seventeen miles, and he was so badly demoralized that I
had to do all the walking."
At Reno Miller bade the others good-bye and took the west-bound train.
Carlin sent a dispatch to an Illinois town. Late in the night the
east-bound Overland express came in; the body of Brewster was put on
board, the three friends entered a sleeper and the long ride began.