and quarters. Almost every boat had a boy or two aboard, who
immediately jumped over into the water, and paddled around the ship.
None of the boys wore any clothing--and how they could swim and dive!
It seemed no effort at all for them to stay on top, wriggling their
hands and feet a little, like fishes' fins; and when a coin was tossed
near them, down went their heads, up went their heels, and through the
transparent water they darted, for the money. They could be clearly
seen until they grabbed it, and turned for the top. On the surface
they held up the money, as proof that they had it; then they popped it
into their mouth and clamored for more.
Charley rather wished that his father and Mr. Grigsby had stayed to see
the sport; but they had gone ashore in a canoe, and so had a number of
other passengers, including the long-nosed man.
It looked like great fun, down there in the smooth green water, so
clear and cool. With resounding splashes several passengers, in
undershirts and cotton trousers, dived from the rail and joined the
naked black and yellow boys, who made much sport of them. As well try
to catch eels, as those nimble urchins. Why, said a passenger near
Charley, the natives down hereabouts could swim twenty miles, and those
boys themselves could keep afloat all day!
"Here, you white boy," spoke Charley's neighbor, at the rail. "Can't
you get in there and do something for your country? Can you swim?"
He was a pleasant looking man, with iron-gray hair and beard, and wore
white linen. He might have been a banker. The _California_ held all
kinds of Forty-niners.
"Yes, sir; some. I can swim in the Mississippi," answered Charley.
"But I can't swim like that."
"Well, jump in and show us, anyhow. You're the only boy aboard. Maybe
those fellows never saw a white boy swim. Maybe they think you can't
swim. Show them."
"All right," agreed Charley, not a bit afraid to do his best, although
he knew very well that he was only a boy and not a fish. It would be
fun, anyhow.
So he hastened to the cabin, stripped like the men had stripped, and in
his undershirt and cotton trousers back he pattered to the rail. The
water looked farther down than he had figured, but of course he
wouldn't back out, now; and accompanied by a hearty cheer from the
passengers, over he plumped. As soon as he struck the water, all the
boys near there made a rush for him, yelling.
Up he rose, right in their midst--and just as he had expected, he was
no match for them at swimming or diving. They cut circles around him,
and under and over, and the "showing" he made did not amount to much,
he feared. Still, he proved that he could swim, and was not afraid,
and as he paddled about he grinned. They soon found out that they
could beat him easily enough, getting the coins; but he didn't want the
coins, and the water was delightfully luke-warm--just right; so they
all were contented.
Really, it was much better here than up on the hot deck, and Charley
was well satisfied with the change, when aloft, along the rail, a great
hubbub sounded. Passengers were pointing and craning about, and most
of them rushed away, to the other side.
"The _Panama_!" they were calling. "That's she! Down from San
Francisco. She's coming in. Now for some news."
Even the natives were gazing. For the stairs swam the men who had
jumped overboard, and for the stairs swam Charley also. The _Panama_?
Sure! She was sister ship to the _California_, and by the talk she was
coming in, bound down from California.
When Charley gained the deck he, too, looked. He saw the thread of
black smoke increased to a wide plume and very near. Beneath the plume
was a large steamer, already headed into the harbor entrance. Great
excitement reigned aboard the _California_.
Majestically the _Panama_ glided into the harbor, and dropped anchor
only a long stone's throw from the _California_. "Boom!" spoke her
signal gun, and for her raced, again, the fleet of bumboats.
Her rail was black-and-white with passengers, staring across at the
passengers of the _California_. Men began to yell back and forth.
"Where's your gold?"
"Here! Where's yours?" and some of the _Panama's_ passengers held up
round little buckskin sacks; others slapped their shirt bosoms; and one
man, amidst laughter, even held, in both hands, a large gunny sack
which probably contained potatoes or yams.
"How are things at the mines?"
"Booming. Better hurry or you'll be too late, stranger."
"Plenty of gold?"
"Millions of it."
"How much can one man dig in a day?"
And so forth, and so forth. Several of the _California_ passengers,
who had been in the water before, plunged in again and daringly swam
over to the _Panama_, so as better to get the news.
Lighters, or scows, had been unloading live-stock and other supplies
into the _California_, and what looked to be the ship's boat was
putting out from the shore. Suddenly "Boom!" spoke the ship's gun, as
signal that she was about to weigh anchor. Down to the beach hurried
the passengers who had gone ashore. Charley knew that his father and
Mr. Grigsby would be among them. The sun had set, and a little breeze
blew coolly on his wet garments, so he scampered to the cabin, to
change.
Just as he reached the threshold he thought of his shoes. Shucks! He
had never thought, when he had taken them off in such haste, and he had
left them lying with the precious papers in one of them! In fact, he
had not locked the door, had he? Anyway, the door was unlocked
now--and in he hastened, his heart in his mouth. His shoes were lying
there. He picked one up, but it contained no papers. He grabbed the
other and explored it. It contained no papers. Maybe they had stuck
to his stockings, then. He hoped so. But, alas, no papers were to be
found, anywhere, on his stockings, or near his stockings, or under the
bunk, or--anywhere.
He rushed out on deck again, peering, following his course to the rail.
That was no use, either. The papers were gone; he had lost them, or
somebody had taken them.
What a foolish boy he had been!
XII
CALIFORNIA HO!
What a foolish, foolish boy! How could he tell his father, and Mr.
Grigsby? Maybe, though, he could find the papers, and then he would
not have to tell. The scheme tempted him, but he decided that it was
cowardliness. He had done the thing, and now he was afraid to accept
the consequences. Huh! This was not playing fair with his partners.
Besides, the longer he waited, the worse he made it for them and
himself too.
So he soberly dressed; then he went out, this time carefully locking
the door behind him, which of course was rather late in the game. The
boat containing his father and Mr. Grigsby was at the ship, and they
two came up the side. They were laden with stuff that they had bought
ashore.
"Hello, Charley," greeted his father, cheerfully. "Had a good time?
Phew, but it was hot on shore! You didn't miss much. Lend a hand,
will you, and help us carry this truck into the cabin?"
"You must have been in the water," remarked Mr. Grigsby, keenly noting
Charley's wet, salty hair.
Charley tried to smile, but it came hard. He picked up an armful of
cocoanuts, and followed his partners to the cabin. They waited at the
door for him.
"Got it locked, I see," quoth his father. "That's right. I told
Grigsby we could depend on you."
They dumped the spoils in the cabin. Up to this time Charley had said
scarcely a word.
"What's the matter, boy?" queried his father. "Didn't you have a good
time? Aren't you feeling well?"
"I've lost the papers," blurted Charley, wanting to cry.
[Illustration: "I've lost the papers"]
"What?" His father and Mr. Grigsby stared at him. "You don't mean it!"
"Yes. I lost them, or somebody took them." And Charley did begin to
cry. "I went in swimming and left my shoes in the cabin. And when I
came back the papers were gone. Boo-hoo."
"Pshaw!" muttered Mr. Grigsby.
"Well, don't cry about it," spoke his father, sharply. "Brace up, and
tell us about it."
Charley did.
"You're sure they aren't around the cabin somewhere?"
"I looked. I'll look again, though."
They all poked about, to no result.
"Did you look on deck, where you were?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you lock the cabin door when you went out?"
"I _think_ I did," answered Charley, honestly. "I meant to."
"But you aren't certain?"
"N--no; not exactly."
"Anybody could pick the lock, I suppose," said Mr. Grigsby, from under
his bushy brows. "The thing looks to me like a put-up job. Who was
the man that urged you to jump over?"
"I don't know. I'd never seen him before."
"Well, describe him," bade Mr. Adams.
Charley described him as best he could--a medium sized man in white
linen suit, with iron-gray hair and short beard iron-gray to match.
"What color eyes?"
"I don't know," confessed Charley, truthfully. "B-black, I think."
"Don't know!" grunted Mr. Grigsby. "After this, notice those things.
A man can change his hair, but he can't change his eyes. When you've
followed the trail a while, like I have, you'll learn to size a man up
at a glance, and never forget him. Kit Carson was a great fellow for
that. So was Frémont. Well, the first thing to do is to look for
Charley's man. What do you say, Adams?"
Charley's father gravely nodded.
"I agree. Did you see any of that gang go ashore, Charley? Either of
the Jacobs cronies, I mean. Jacobs we saw ourselves, in the town."
"No, sir," said Charley. "But they might have gone."
"Didn't see them aboard ship, then?" asked Mr. Grigsby.
"No, sir; I didn't."
"Wait a minute," spoke Mr. Grigsby. "We did glimpse that fellow who
tried to use the knife, going into a grog shop. Remember?"
"I do," affirmed Mr. Adams. "That accounts for two, then. Well,
Charley," and he laid his hand on Charley's shoulder, "it's up to you
to find your man for us, and then we'll investigate him. Take a brace,
now, and don't feel bad. There's no use crying over spilled milk;
you're only wasting time. You simply made a mistake, and everybody
makes mistakes once in a while. The thing to do now is to go ahead and
correct that mistake, the best you can. We'll help you."
What a brick his father was! And so was Mr. Grigsby. Instead of
scolding him and confining him on bread and water, or sending him back
home, they were standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
"The papers don't amount to so tearing much," mused Mr. Grigsby. "You
know what the sketch looks like. That assignment of the claim may be
important and may not. But of course nobody likes to be robbed."
Charley was now all eagerness to retrieve himself and find that man
with the iron-gray hair and beard. Out he went, with his eyes open;
but though he trudged everywhere, while the ship got under way and
steamed, with a cheer, out past the _Panama_ and to sea again, he found
no passenger who looked anything like the one wanted. And he didn't
see him at the table. Neither, so his father and Mr. Grigsby reported,
on coming up after dining, separately, did they.
However, while most of the first-cabin and second-cabin passengers were
loafing about, that evening, enjoying the long twilight, who should
saunter to the Adams party but the long-nosed man himself. He
certainly had nerve!
"How are you?" he accosted, very pleasantly. "I saw you gentlemen
ashore. How'd you make out? Hot place, wasn't it!"
"We made out very well, sir," answered Mr. Adams, shortly. "But while
we were gone our cabin was robbed. How do you account for that?"
"Meaning, I suppose, that you think I can account for it."
"Anybody who would tamper with boats would tamper with a cabin, we
reckon," growled Mr. Grigsby.
"You seem bound to be personal," retorted the long-nosed man. "That
little controversy on the _Georgia_ came out in your favor, but you
can't rile _me_. I want to let by-gones be by-gones. I'm a peaceable
man. You've beat me, and I'm willing to say so. Who robbed your
cabin? What'd you lose? Speak up."
"We lost some small papers, entrusted to this boy, here. I have
witnesses to prove that they were in my possession, so they won't be of
use to anybody else," informed Charley's father, "and the safest thing
for the present holder to do is to return them."
"That's the captain's cabin. Tell the captain," urged the long-nosed
man.
"No," growled Mr. Grigsby; "we thought we'd tell _you_."
"Meaning, I suppose, that I did it," returned the long-nosed man.
"You're overshooting. You saw me ashore."
"Yes, we saw _you_," replied Mr. Grigsby.
"Meaning, I suppose," resumed the long-nosed man, "that if I didn't do
it some of my friends did. You saw them ashore, too, didn't you?"
"Saw one of them, perhaps," admitted Mr. Adams.
"Well, you prove that the other was on this ship--you find anybody who
can swear he saw the other on this ship, and then you've the right to
question him," challenged the long-nosed man. "But he couldn't enter
your cabin when he wasn't here, could he? Or I, or anyone else,
either! Now, listen. I've come to you, wanting to be friendly. I
don't deny it was to my interests to keep you back, so I could get to
Californy first, and I tried my levelest. But you've beat me, and here
you are. I'm a fair man; I know when I'm licked, and I don't bear you
ill-will. Understand? The passengers on this steamer," and the
long-nosed man raised his voice so that the people around would hear,
"are witness to my coming to you and saying, 'You've licked me; but I'm
friendly. Let by-gones be by-gones.' And what do I get? Why, you
call me a thief, when you know very well I didn't do it. That hurts my
feelings, gentlemen," and with this appeal, the long-nosed man walked
off, apparently indignant.
"That's the most remarkable speech I ever heard in all my life!"
exclaimed Mr. Adams, struggling between laughter and wrath. "He
threatens Charley and me, and tries to cut our boat down and drown us,
and assaults you (to Mr. Grigsby) and gets you almost knifed, and sets
our canoe adrift, on the Chagres, and when we finally, by luck, reach
the steamer just as she's weighing anchor, he orders the captain not to
take us aboard--and now after our cabin is robbed very suspiciously and
we've lost what he wanted, he says, 'I forgive you. I'm friendly.
Shake hands.'"
Charley felt the same way. Evidently so did Mr. Grigsby, whose eyes
were glinting shrewdly. He beckoned Charley and his father and led
them out of earshot of the other passengers.
"That talk doesn't go, of course," he said. "It's regular Injun talk,
after they've stolen your hosses. Humph! We can't find Charley's man,
can we? At least, we haven't found him. Why? Because there isn't any
such man. I'll wager my rifle against a cocoanut that the hair and
beard were false. If they'd been stripped off, the third rascal in the
gang would have shown up. As soon as Jacobs blustered about our
'proving' that the third fellow was on ship and not on shore, I made up
my mind. He and Charley's man are one and the same. See?"
"I believe you're right," declared Mr. Adams. "What do you think,
Charley? You said his eyes were black, as you remembered."
"He might be the same," admitted Charley. "At any rate," continued Mr.
Grigsby, "the best we can do is to keep quiet and lie low. It hasn't
worked any harm to tell those fellows that we know what's happened and
we're not afraid of 'em. We've given them something to think about.
But we'll not burn more powder until we're pretty certain of fetching a
scalp. That's _my_ opinion."
"No, it won't do any good to run circles," said Mr. Adams. "We can be
thinking while they're guessing. We know what we'll do better than
they know what they'll do--and they'll never, never keep possession of
that mine," and he set his jaw hard. "That is," he added, "if any of
us finds it."
The news spread that the "Adams party" had been robbed, and presently
queries came from the curious, even from the captain himself. But
people soon found that the "Adams party" weren't much of a hand to talk
at random about this or any other of their affairs, and the little
excitement soon died away. The captain said he was sorry, he'd take up
any line of inquiry that Mr. Adams would suggest, etc., etc.; and Mr.
Adams replied that there was nothing to be done, yet--they'd decided to
let the matter rest.
The long-nosed man and his two partners appeared, now and then,
swaggering with great air of being unconcerned--the long-nosed man
especially assuming to be a hail-fellow-well-met who could not possibly
be guilty of any meanness. But nevertheless, none of the three was
especially popular, except among the gamblers and drinkers.
As for Charley, he did not enjoy the rest of the voyage. He had lost
the papers, and he had failed to identify the man who had challenged
him to jump overboard, and he was simply crazy, now, to have the voyage
at an end. What he wanted, was to get ashore at San Francisco, and
race that long-nosed man for the Golden West mine. He was determined
to "make good," was Charley.
Up the beautiful coast of Mexico steamed the _California_, with a stop
at San Blas, and another at the fine port of Mazatlan, almost on the
Tropic of Cancer. The scenery was wonderful; the white surf of the
shore, and misty blue mountains rising high above the green background,
being ever in sight from the deck. The water was alive with
flying-fish, porpoises, sharks, whales, dolphins, and now and then an
immense turtle; while over the ship's foamy wake the gulls and terns
and pelicans sailed and dived.
From Mazatlan the _California_ veered westward, right on the Tropic of
Cancer, to clear (said people) the Gulf of Lower California. When she
pointed in again, in the morning, she crossed the path of the steamer
_Oregon_, southward bound out of the gold fields. The _Oregon_ was too
far to be hailed. However, no matter--for aboard the _California_, now
arose a cry, while people pointed.
"There's California, at last! Hooray!"
On the starboard quarter appeared, hazy across the sparkling whitecaps,
a long line of low land ending in a lofty cape--San Lucas, which meant,
in English, Saint Luke. Even through a spy-glass, which Mr. Adams
borrowed from another passenger, the land looked to be uninhabited, and
was brown and bare, with mountains rising back from the surf-dashed
coast. People said that amidst the brownness were wonderful green
valleys, occupied by ranches and villages; but if this was really the
Land of Gold, Charley was disappointed. It did not look very inviting
to tramp over. However, this was only Lower California, still owned by
Mexico; and San Francisco and the true Land of Gold, Upper California,
was a week ahead.
As the steamer skirted the brownish, rugged, mysterious coast of this
Lower California, the weather grew more bracing, for the tropics had
been left behind. Flannel shirts and heavy trousers were comfortable.
The great albatrosses became few, but the gulls and Mother Carey's
chickens, the nimble gray petrels that flew all day with their feet
grazing the waves, were thick. The bright Southern Cross dropped low
into the horizon behind, while the Great Dipper, circling the North
Star, rose higher before. Yes, the _California_ surely was making
northward rapidly.
"We don't cross into Upper California until we reach San Diego," said
Mr. Grigsby. "That will be to-morrow, I reckon. I remember San Diego
very well. I was there in Forty-six, with Carson and Frémont; and we
raised the Flag in the plaza. It's still there, too, I bet you.
Commodore Stockton of the Navy took the place and held it. It used to
be a great station for hides, and has one of the finest harbors on the
coast."
The next morning, sure enough, the good steamer swept in for the port
of San Diego, of the California of the United States. The entrance was
very narrow. On the left jutted out a high, brown, brushy point named
Point Loma, with a solid white lighthouse, built long ago by the
Spaniards, standing forth as a landmark on the very nose. On the right
was what looked to be a long, low, sandy island, fringed by the
dazzling surf, and shimmering in the sun.
Through the narrow channel steamed the _California_, at half speed,
everybody gazing hard to "size up" this first town of American
California, and the first place under the American flag since New
Orleans was left, over a month ago.
At the end of the channel appeared several low white-washed buildings,
along the foot of the ridge which made the point.
"The hide-houses," said Mr. Grigsby, with satisfied nod, "where the
cow-hides used to be stored, waiting for the ships. Smelled bad, too;
shouldn't wonder if there were some waiting now. We'll see the town in
a minute."
A bay began to open on the right; and sure enough, beyond where the
channel broadened, ahead, at this end of the bay, on flat land came
into view a group of houses, both brown and white, and a flag, on a
tall pole, floating over their midst. It was--it was the Stars and
Stripes! Hooray! And again hooray!
"We raised that flag--Frémont and Carson and we others in the
battalion--or one like it, in July, Forty-six," declared Mr. Grigsby.
"Sailed down from Monterey on the fine sloop-of-war _Cyane_, to help
Stockton. Yonder, just back of town, on the first hill, is where the
commodore located his fort, Fort Stockton, to hold the town. He
anchored in the bay and sent his men ashore to do it. On the rear edge
of town, on the first little rise below Fort Stockton, was the Spanish
presidio, or fort--but Fort Stockton had the bulge on it. About thirty
miles northeast (can't see it from here, of course) among the hills is
where General Kearny and his First Dragoons were corralled by the
Californians after they had marched overland from Santa Fé, New Mexico,
a thousand miles across the desert. The dragoons were surrounded and
in bad shape; but Carson and Lieutenant Beale of the Navy and an Indian
crawled and sneaked through the California lines, the whole distance to
San Diego, and brought word to Stockton to hurry up and send
reinforcements. Carson nearly lost his feet, by cactus, and Beale was
laid up for a year. During the war San Diego was no easy place to get
into, or out of, either."
"Where's the mission?" asked Mr. Adams. "The first of the California
missions was here, wasn't it?"
"It used to be in town, before there was any town, they say," answered
Mr. Grigsby. "That was 1769. But when the town had started, the
priests moved the mission about six miles up yonder valley, so as to
get their Injuns away from the fandangoes."
Meanwhile, the _California_ had swung to, opposite the hide-houses.
Out rattled her anchor chain; "Boom!" announced her signal gun. A
number of people had collected in front of the town, which was
separated from the water by a wide strip of tide-land; but on a road
which bordered the point and connected the hide-houses with the town,
other people came at a gallop, horseback. The captain went ashore, in
the ship's boat; but stay here was to be short, so no passengers were
allowed to go.
"Is there gold in those hills yon, mister?" asked a lean, lank
Arkansan, of Mr. Grigsby, who was accepted as an authority on the
country.
"There might be; I dunno," responded the Frémonter. "But it's powerful
dry, according to Kit Carson. You can't mine without water. Of
course, those flat-tops to the south of us are in Mexican territory.
To my notion, it isn't gold that will make this southern country; it's
climate and commerce. The climate down here is the finest in the
world. Warm like this all the year 'round, and cool enough nights for
sleeping. No bad storms, either. This bay runs about three miles
southward, yet every inch of it is landlocked. When that railroad
across the Isthmus is finished, to help emigration, I look to see a big
city here, and a harbor full of ships."
"A ship canal across the Isthmus would help this country a lot," mused
Mr. Adams. "The west part of the United States is too far from the
east part; a canal would bring them together."
"Yes, and so would a railroad clean from the Missouri to the Pacific,"
agreed the Frémonter. "That will come, too, in time; and to go to
California will be as easy as to go to Washington or New York."
"Looks as though a toler'ble lot more passengers were comin' aboard,
don't it?" remarked the Arkansan, staring fixedly at the beach.
"Yes, sir; and overlanders, too!" exclaimed Mr. Grigsby, his gaze
narrowing. "I reckon they must have got in by the southern route along
the Gila River. And if so, I pity 'em. It's a terrible trail."
XIII
INTO THE GOLDEN GATE
The captain's boat was returning from the landing at the hide-houses,
accompanied by a large whale-boat filled with strangers. Gun barrels
out-thrust from the mass, baggage was visible, and as the whale-boat
drew nearer to the steamer the persons in it were seen to be tattered
and gaunt, as if they had been through great hardships. The captain's
boat contained a guest in United States Army uniform--an officer,
evidently.