As the Keiths, on the way, drove across what is now Harbour View, they
stopped to watch a bark standing out through the Golden Gate before the
gentle morning land breeze. She made a pretty sight, for the new-risen
sun whitened her sails. Aboard her was the arch-plotter, Morrell. Had
they known of that fact, it is to be doubted whether they would have
felt any great disappointment over his escape, or any deep animosity at
all. The outcome of his efforts had been clarifying. The bark was bound
for the Sandwich Islands. Morrell's dispositions for flight at a
moment's notice had been made long since; in fact, since the first days
of Vigilante activity. He lingered in the islands for some years, at
first cutting quite a dash; then, as his money dwindled and his schemes
failed, he degenerated slowly. His latter end was probably as a small
copra trader in the South Seas; but that is unknown. Mrs. Morrell--if
indeed she was the man's legal wife at all--thus frankly abandoned, put
a bold front on the whole matter. She returned to her house. As the
Keiths in no manner molested her, she took heart. With no resources
other than heavily mortgaged real property, she found herself forced to
do something for a living. In the course of events we see Mrs. Morrell
keeping a flashy boarding-house, hanging precariously on the outer
fringe of the lax society of the times, frowned upon by the
respectable, but more or less sought by the fast men and young girls
only too numerous among the idle of that day.
Ben Sansome went south. For twenty years he lived in Los Angeles, where
he cut a figure, but from which he always cast longing eyes back upon
San Francisco. He had a furtive lookout for arrivals from the north.
One day, however, he came face to face with Keith. As the latter did
not annihilate him on the spot, Sansome plucked up courage. He returned
to San Francisco, There in time he attained a position dear to his
heart; he became an "old beau," frequenting the teas and balls,
appraising the débutantes, giving his opinion on vintage wines, leading
a comfortable, idle, selfish, useless, graceful life. His only
discomfort was his occasional encounters with the Keiths. Mrs. Keith
never distinguished him from thin air unless others were present. Keith
had always in his eye a gleam of contempt which, perhaps, Sansome
acknowledged, was natural; but it was a contempt with a dash of
amusement in it, and that galled. Still--Ben was satisfied. He gained
the distinction of having discovered the epicurean value of sand-dabs.
The Sherwoods founded the family of that name.
Terry, arrested for the stabbing of Hopkins, was at first very humble,
promising to resign his Supreme Court Judgeship. As time went on he
became arrogant. The Committee of Vigilance was rather at a loss. If
Hopkins died, they could do no less than hang Terry: and they realized
fully that in executing a Justice of the Supreme Court they were
entering deep waters. To the relief of everybody Hopkins fully
recovered. After being held closely in custody, Terry was finally
released, with a resolution that he be declared unfit for office. Once
free, however, he revised his intention of resigning. His subsequent
career proved as lawless and undisciplined as its earlier promise.
Finally he was killed while in the act of attempting to assassinate
Justice Stephen Field, an old, weak, helpless, and unarmed man. If
Terry holds any significance in history, it is that of being the
strongest factor in the complete wrecking of the Law and Order party!
For with the capture of the arsenals, and all their arms, open
opposition to the Committee of Vigilance came to an end. The Executive
Committee continued its work. Numberless malefactors and suspects were
banished; two more men, Hetherington and Brace, were solemnly hanged.
On the 8th. of August the cells were practically empty. It was
determined to disband on the 21st.
That ceremony was signalized by a parade on the 18th. Four regiments of
infantry, two squadrons of cavalry, a battalion of riflemen, a
battalion of pistol men, and a battalion of police were in line. The
entire city turned out to cheer.
As for the effects of this movement, the reader must be referred to the
historians. It is sufficient to say that for years San Francisco
enjoyed a model government and almost complete immunity from crime.
One evening about twilight two men stood in the gathering shadows of
the Plaza. They were old friends, but had in times of stress stood on
opposite sides. The elder man shook his head skeptically.
"That is all very well," said he, "but where are your Vigilantes now?"
The other raised his hand toward the great bell of the Monumental
silhouetted against the afterglow in the sky.
"Toll that bell, sir, and you will see!" replied Coleman solemnly.