Chapter IV.

COLONEL WARLOW'S STORY--CONTINUED.

The listeners had seated themselves on the buffalo-robes which Scott

Moreland's thoughtfulness had provided, and the colonel resumed the

thread of his narrative.

"The blow was followed by unconsciousness, and when I awoke, as it were,

from a long and fevered sleep, I was seated in an easy-chair on a shaded

veranda, and before me stretched the limitless ocean, its restless waves

purling in foam on the sandy beach at my feet. Beside the porch on which

I was seated grew luxuriant lime and orange trees, loaded with fruit and

bloom, and the air was heavy with the sensuous odors of tropical

flowers.

"A ray of memory gleamed feebly across my confused and cloudy mind, and

I vaguely wondered why my hands should be so wasted and thin. Then a

wavering sensation swept over my mental faculties like a dark cloud. The

glimmer of memory once again struggled and flickered, then flashed forth

with a dazzling light, piercing through the fog and haze which had so

long obscured the light of reason, and I felt as if the sun had just

arisen.

"As I sat with closed eyes, gently rocking to and fro, I remembered

dimly, like some half-forgotten dream, my long journey across the

continent with Walraven, our camping beside the Kansas stream at the

Stone Corral; and then with surprise I looked out on the ocean before

me. Suddenly the memory of that night of horror came vividly to my mind,

and with a loud cry I sprang to my feet; but a firm hand was laid on my

shoulder, and a kind voice requested me to be calm, and pressed me to

drink the glass of wine which was held to my lips.

"I obeyed mechanically, and as I drained the cup of its sparkling

contents I glanced up at the bronzed though handsome stranger beside me,

who, with joy and gratification beaming in his blue eyes, said in answer

to my look of inquiry:--

"'Old boy, you will soon be yourself again; but you must not talk too

much, nor ask questions just now.'

"'But where am I, and what does it all mean?' I exclaimed in a dazed

sort of way.

"'You are near Los Angeles, and this is the Pacific Ocean which lies

before you,' he answered slowly.

"When he had made this strange statement, I felt a wavering sensation

once more cross my brain, as if madness were about to seize me.

"'You should not talk, nor think of the past,' said he anxiously, 'but

brace up and recover; then we will go up to the mines, and dig out

nuggets like nigger-heads.'

"'But at least tell me how I came here,' I entreated.

"'Well,' said he in a faltering manner, 'if you will be composed I will

do so; but you must not give way to your emotions.'

"I sank back in the chair, motioning for him to proceed, as the suspense

was unbearable; and he then related the following, in soothing tones,

like one who had long humored and tenderly nursed a suffering invalid:--

"'My name is Roger Coble, and my home is near Springfield, Ill., from

which place I started to the gold-fields of the Sacramento River, which

had thrown our quiet rural community into a great excitement by the

rumor of their fabulous richness. Our train had only traveled a few

days' drive westward from the Missouri, when we came to the Stone Corral

on the bank of the Cottonwood. There we found you, wounded and

delirious. I placed you on a canvas bed in one of my wagons, and brought

you on to Santa Fe.

"'As you were still delirious and in a helpless condition, I could not

bear the thought of leaving you at the latter place, but brought you

along with the train to this place, where we arrived last week, and I am

overjoyed to see you on your feet again.'

"'But what was the fate of Walraven and his wife?' I cried, in great

excitement.

"Seeing the wild look again coming into my eyes, he said, with a

saddened expression:--

"'Do not ask any more questions, my boy. When you become stronger I will

tell you all. But now, my friend, do try to think of pleasanter themes.

If you do not, you will surely relapse into your former deplorable

state.'

"Therefore I took his kindly advice, and ignored the past with all its

bitter memories, and listened with growing interest to his hopeful plans

for the future. As he told of the great gold-fields that had been

discovered in the newly acquired California, that were of such fabulous

richness, he said, that all the world was wild with excitement and

wonder, I began to feel the infection of his enthusiasm, and almost

forgot the fact that I was penniless and two thousand miles from home.

"The next day I felt still stronger; but the ugly wound on my head was

not yet entirely healed, being a painful reminder of the terrible blow

which I had received the night of the attack at the corral.

"As the days passed by I rapidly convalesced, and erelong was able to

walk through the orange-groves, or sail with Roger out on the tranquil

water; but whenever I had nerved myself up to the point of asking the

fate of my friends, to my horror I would find that same old sickening,

wavering sensation steal over my brain that I remembered so well, and I

would shudder to think that I stood, as it were, upon the brink of

madness.

"So in our long rambles on the sea-shore or drives on the beach, we

shunned all allusion to the fateful past, tacitly ignoring the

unexplained sequel to that terrible tragedy; but the suspense and strain

were so great that it is a blissful thing that events followed which

diverted my mind from the painful subject, or perhaps my reason may have

been utterly overthrown.

"Roger had disposed of his teams, and, after consulting me, procured

tickets to San Francisco, a small village that had sprung up on the

coast to the north, and as he gave me my ticket he said with a smile:--

"'We will be pards, George, and divide profit and loss up in the mines,

and when you strike it "rich," why, you can repay me; and as for

interest--guess we will smoke that out at your expense.'

"I replied, through my tears, that all the gold of this earth could not

repay his kindness and generosity.

"Before sailing on the _Lapwing_ I wrote to my friends in Missouri,

telling them briefly of the disaster which had befallen me, but that I

was with the best fellow alive; and in my letter to sister Amy I told

her how nobly Roger had cared for me in my direst hour of trial and

need, and I hinted that she must wait for me to bring him back, which I

would do when I had regained my lost fortune by working in the mines, to

which we were now just starting, full of hope and enthusiasm.

"Our first day out on the Pacific proved that body of water to be

woefully misnamed indeed; for the weather was just as vile and fickle as

I ever saw on the much maligned Atlantic. In the evening Roger and

myself were seated on deck, watching the sun set in a pile of black

clouds, which, as the broad streams of amber and violet flamed up from

behind the sombre mass, slowly changed to purple, rose, and crimson,

edged with gold.

"When the brilliant hues had faded, the dusky clouds rested on a sullen

sea, that was only ruffled by the fitful breeze, which rose and fell,

then died away, leaving a death-like calm, oppressive as it was

foreboding.

"The frightened sea-birds flew screaming by, flapping their broad white

wings, then fading swiftly away. The captain now came on deck, and, by

his quick orders and restless movements, we knew that he anticipated

danger from the storm which we could see rapidly rising, and the rigging

was soon in order to meet the heavy gale.

"A fiery moon rose in the pale eastern sky, and out to the south-west

hung the bow-shaped cloud, black as ebony, save when veined by the

blood-red lightning; but as the majestic mass towered to the zenith, it

changed to green, edged by a roll of fleecy white, which rose and fell

as if weaving a shroud for sea and sky.

"We lashed ourselves to the rigging, so we could get the full benefit,

as Roger said, of our first storm at sea. We had not long to wait, for

soon a wall of waves, like a troop of war-horses, came tossing their

snowy manes on the gale, and when the mad surge struck us the old ship

quivered in every timber. The clouds wrapped us about, and the blinding

spray and rain drenched the deck; the lightning glimmered fitfully

through the mist, or hissed in zigzag streams of molten gold along the

surging waves. A lull, then again the blinding flash, followed by the

bellowing thunder, crashing down, it seemed, to the caverns beneath, the

wind shrieking through the rigging, the tumult of waves, rising in

hoarse clamor and deafening roar--followed again by blinding stroke and

maddening crash.

"I have stood on old Chapultepec's crumbling wall, when mortar and

cannon hurled their iron hail; when screaming shells and belching roar

mingled with the shrieks of mangled and dying men, and the sullen boom

of exploding mines shocked and dulled the ear; but never had I known an

hour like this.

"The poor old vessel, like a hunted doe, bounded away, followed by all

the hounds of the gale, climbing the dizzy cliff or leaping the yawning

chasm, and throwing the foam from off her sides; then hiding in the

gorges below, where the glassy wall towered far above with combing

crest, scattering the spray out over the tossing sea. Again, as the ship

climbed the watery hill, she seemed to pause one brief moment on the

foamy height, then plunged into the swishing whirlpool beneath.

"The night wore on, yet still our vessel staggered along in her wild

flight; but the winds began to abate their fury somewhat, and the

flashes grew more dim and fitful until the storm rolled away to the

east. Then the moon peered with white face through the rift of clouds;

but as her spectral light only served to make more weird and appalling

the waste of heaving billows, she quickly hid behind her fleecy veil, as

if to shut the wild scene from view.

"Although the wind had died to a gentle gale, the frightened waves still

galloped madly along as though fleeing from a grizzly horror they dared

not face, and the ship labored like some jaded cavalry horse, that

staggers and reels after the fierce charge.

"The deck had been a scene of great confusion ever since the storm had

abated, and, although the waves and spray broke over the vessel, the

crew were rushing about wildly, and to our surprise we saw them

launching the boats; so we unlashed ourselves and hurried forward--only

to hear the despairing cry: 'The vessel is sinking!'

"I looked out upon the waves, which even now seemed nearer, and with a

clammy shudder comprehended what horror they were fleeing. Death rode

those cold waters, and every billow was a yawning grave.

"What a dread alternative--to cast ourselves out on that boiling,

foaming sea, with only a frail boat between us and eternity, or remain

on deck and feel the ship slowly settling under us!

"But the boats were quickly manned, and into them were thrown a few

casks of spirits and water, with a small quantity of food; then we

pushed off from the fast-sinking ship, and in a moment were riding the

waves.

"We had left a light burning on the vessel, to enable us to steer away

from it, and thus avoid being run down or ingulfed by the final

whirlpool of the wreck; and after tossing about on the troubled waters

for half an hour, trying to keep the boats together, we heard a loud

report, caused by the compressed air blowing up the deck of the vessel;

then the light on the old ship went out forever, and the sea closed over

her shattered form.

"It may have been an hour before dawn, when suddenly we found ourselves

among the breakers, and the coast looming dimly through the mist. Before

we had time to realize our situation our boat was capsized and we were

struggling with the waves.

"I shouted to Roger, but no answer. Then I saw a head appear above the

water, and swam toward it, hoping it was he; but the form was carried

around the headland by the rapid current, so I struck out for the

frowning cliff.

"Diving under the largest waves, I saw, to my great joy, that I was

gaining and soon was thrown on the rocks with terrible force; but I lost

my hold on the stony ledge that I had clutched, and was being carried

back to sea; but a thought struck me which I instantly recognized as

being the only chance of escape, and to which I am certain I owe the

preservation of my life: I dived to the bottom, and began walking toward

the cliff, which was not more than a rod away.

"Oh, the horror and agony of those few moments under the sea! The

seconds seemed to lengthen to hours. Brief as the time and short as the

distance may have been, I've traveled many a thousand miles through the

sandy deserts of the West and suffered less than in that one minute at

the bottom of the ocean."

A Fortune Hunter; Or, The Old Stone Corral: A Tale of the Santa Fe Trail · 第 4 / 21 章