As Morrell had surmised, Keith decided to pass on the news for what it
was worth. The committee believed it, and was filled with consternation
at the incredible folly of the projected show of armed force.
"This is not peace, but war," said Coleman, "which we are trying to
avert!"
The Executive Committee went into immediate session. It was now evident
that the disbanding would have to be indefinitely postponed. An
extraordinary program to meet the emergency was discussed piecemeal.
One of its details had to do with the shipment of arms from Benicia.
The committee here fell neatly into the trap prepared for it. In all
probability no one clearly realized the legal status of the muskets,
but all supposed them already to belong to the State that was
threatening to use them. Charles Doane, instructed to take the steps
necessary to their capture, called to him the chief of the harbour
police.
"Have you a small vessel ready for immediate service?" he asked this
man.
"Yes, a sloop, at the foot of this street."
"Be ready to sail in half an hour."
Doane then turned the job over to a trustworthy, quick-witted man named
John Durkee. The latter selected twelve to assist him, among whom was
Keith, at the latter's especial request. Morrell, loitering near, saw
this band depart for the water front, and followed them far enough to
watch them embark, to witness the hoisting of the sloop's sails, and to
see the craft heel to the evening breeze and slip away around the
point. All things were going well. The committee suspected nothing of
the plot to fasten the crime of piracy on it; Keith was out of the way.
Morrell turned on his heel and walked rapidly to his rendezvous with
Sansome.
Durkee and his sloop beat for some hours against wind and tide; but
finally, so strong were both, he was forced to anchor in San Pablo Bay
until conditions had somewhat modified. Finally, he was able to get
under way again, A number of craft were sailing about, and one by one
these were overhauled, commanded to lay to, and boarded in true
piratical style. It was fun for everybody. The breeze blew in strongly
from the Golden Gate, the waves chopped and danced merrily, the little
sloop dipped her rail and flew along at a speed that justified her
reputation as a racer, gulls followed curiously. But there were no
practical results. Every sailing craft they overhauled proved innocent,
and either indignant or sarcastic. The sun dipped, and the short
twilight of this latitude was almost immediately succeeded by a
brilliant night. Slowly the breeze died, until the little sloop could
just crawl along. It grew chilly, and there was no food aboard. A less
persistent man than John Durkee would have felt justified in giving it
up and heading for home; but John had been instructed to cruise until
he captured the arms; and he profanely announced his intention of so
doing.
In this he was more faithful to his superiors than the notorious Rube
Maloney to his employers. It was to the interest of the Law and Order
party that Rube and his precious crew should be promptly and easily
captured. They had been instructed to carry boldly and flagrantly, in
full daylight, down the middle of the bay. But Terry's permission, to
lay in "refreshments" at cost of the conspirators had been liberally
interpreted. By six o'clock Rube had just sense enough left to drop
anchor off Pueblo Point. There the three jolly mariners proceeded to
celebrate; and there they would probably have lain undiscovered had
less of a bulldog than Durkee been sent after them.
As it was, midnight had passed before Durkee's keen eyes caught the
loom of some object in the black mist close under the point. Quietly he
eased off the sheet and bore down on it. As soon as he ascertained
definitely that the object was indeed a boat, he ran alongside. The
twelve men boarded with a rush: they found themselves in possession of
an empty deck. From the hatch came the reek of alcohol and the sound of
hearty snoring. The capture was made.
In a half hour the transfer of the muskets and the three prisoners was
accomplished. The latter offered no resistance, but seemed cross at
being awakened. Leaving the vessel anchored off the point, the little
sloop stood away again for San Francisco, reaching the California
Street wharf shortly after daylight. Here she was moored, and one of
the crew was dispatched to the committee for further instructions and
grub. He returned after an hour, but was preceded somewhat by the grub.
"They say to deliver the muskets at headquarters," he reported, "but to
turn the prisoners loose."
"Turn them loose!" cried Durkee, astonished.
"That's what they said," repeated the messenger. "And here's written
orders," and he displayed a paper signed by the well-known "33,
Secretary," and bearing the Vigilante seal of the open eye.
"All right," acquiesced Durkee. "Now, you mangy hounds, you've got just
about twenty-eight seconds to make yourselves as scarce as your
virtues. Scat!"
Rube and his two companions had several of the twenty-eight seconds to
spare; but once they had lost sight of their captors, they moderated
their pace. They had been much depressed, but now they cheered up and
swaggered. A few drinks restored them to normal, and they were able to
put a good face on the report they now made to their employers, all of
whom, including Terry, had gathered thus early to receive them. After
all, things had gone well: they had been actually captured, which was
the essential thing, and it did not seem necessary to go into
extraneous details.
"Good!" cried Terry, who had come down from Sacramento personally to
superintend the working out of this latest ruse.
He was illegally absent from his court, meddling illegally with matters
not in his jurisdiction. "Now we must get a warrant for piracy into the
hands of the United States Marshal. Send him alone, with no deputies.
When he makes his deposition of resistance, then we shall see!"
The marshal found Durkee still at the wharf, seated on an upturned cask.
"I have this warrant for your arrest!" he proclaimed in a voice
purposely loud.
"Yes? Let's see it," rejoined Durkee, lazily reaching out his hand.
He read the document through leisurely. His features betrayed no hint
of his thoughts, but nevertheless his brain was very active. He read
that he was accused of piracy against the might and majesty of the
United States Government; and as his eyes slowly followed the involved
and redundant legal phraseology, he reviewed the situation. The nature,
of the trap became to him, partly evident. There was no doubt that
technically he was a pirate, if these arms--as it seemed--belonged to
the Government and not to the State. The punishment of piracy was
death. Without appreciation of the fact, the committee had made him
liable to the death penalty. And he had no doubt that the Federal
Courts of California, as then constituted, would visit that penalty on
him. He raised his head and looked about him. Within call were lounging
a dozen resolute men belonging to the Committee of Vigilance. He had
but to raise his voice to bring them to his assistance. Once inside
Fort Gunnybags he knew that the committee would stand behind him to the
last man.
But John Durkee had imagination as well as bulldog persistency. His
mind flashed ahead into the future, envisaging the remoter
consequences. He saw the majesty of the law's forces invoked to back
this warrant which the tremendous power of the disciplined Vigilantes
would repulse; he saw reinforcements, summoned. What reinforcements? A
smile flitted across his lips, and he glanced up at the warship _John
Adams_ riding at anchor outside, her guns, their tampons in place,
staring blackly at the city. He saw the whole plot.
"That's all right," he told the waiting marshal, folding the warrant
and returning it to him. "Put your paper in your pocket. I'll go with
you."
By this quietly courageous and intelligent deed John Durkee completely
frustrated the fourth and most dangerous effort of the Law and Order
party. There was no legal excuse for calling on Federal forces to take
one man--who peaceably surrendered!
Undoubtedly, had not matters taken the decided and critical turn soon
to be detailed, Durkee would have been immediately brought to trial,
and perhaps executed. As it was, even the most rabid of the Law and
Order party agreed it was inexpedient to press matters. The case was
postponed again and again, and did not come to trial until several
months, by which time the Vigilantes had practically finished their
work. The law finally saved its face by charging the jury that "if they
believed the prisoners took the arms with the intention of
appropriating them to their own use and permanently depriving the owner
of them, then they were guilty. But if they took them only for the
purpose of preventing their being used against themselves and their
associates, then they were not guilty." Under which hair-splitting and
convenient interpretation the "pirates" went free, and everybody was
satisfied!