in jest, half in earnest, he said, "You needn't worry any more about
what you owe me, Charley; I don't; but if it will ease your mind any,
I'll take as much out in lumber as will make us square, and give you a
receipt in full in the bargain."
"You will?" Charley exclaimed, with great animation. "By George!"
slapping his knee, "it's a bargain. Take my share for what I owe you
and welcome."
"Pass the papers on't, boys. Put it in black an' white; have
everything fair and square," interjected the methodical Bill.
Charley brought out pen and ink, tore a blank leaf out of an account
book, and prepared himself to write the bill of sale.
"Hold on!" cried Walter, who seemed to be in a reckless mood this
morning. "Put in that I'm to have the refusal of the other half of the
cargo for ninety days at cost price. In for a penny, in for a pound,"
he laughed, by way of reply to Charley's wondering look.
For a minute or two nothing was heard except the scratching of
Charley's busy pen. Walter's face was a study. Bill seemed lost in
wonder.
"There. Down it is," said Charley, signing the paper with a flourish.
"'Pears to me as if we was doin' a big business on a small capital
this morning. And now it's done, what on earth did you do it for,
Walt?"
"Oh, I've an idea," said Walter, assuming an air of impenetrable
mystery.
"Have your own way," rejoined Charley, whose mind seemed lightened of
its heavy load. "Here, Bill, you put these dirty dishes in that bread
pan, douse some hot water over them--there! Now look in that middle
locker and you'll find a bunch of oakum to wipe 'em with. Walter, you
get a bucket of water from the cask with the pump in it, on deck, and
fill up the b'iler."
Under Charley's active directions the breakfast things were soon
cleared away. Walter then asked to be put on shore, giving as a reason
that he must find something to do without delay. "Whereabouts do they
dig gold here?" he innocently asked.
At this question Charley laughed outright. He then told Walter how
the diggings were reached from there, pointing out the steamboats
plying to "up-country" points, and then to distant Monte Diablo as
the landmark of the route. "There ain't no actual diggin's here in
'Frisco," he went on to say, "but there's gold enough for them as is
willin' to work for it, and has sense enough not to gamble or drink
it all away. Mebbe you won't get rich quite so fast, and then again
mebbe you will. _Quien sabe?_"
"Queer sitivation for a lumber king," grumbled Bill.
"I didn't come out here to get rich; you know I didn't," said Walter
excitedly, rising and putting on his cap with an air of determination.
"Easy now," urged Charley, putting an arm around Walter; "now don't
you go running all over town in broad daylight after that fellow.
Better send out the town crier, and done with it. That's not the way
to go to work. Do you s'pose a chap in his shoes won't be keepin' a
sharp lookout for himself? Bet your life. Yes, sir-ee! Now, look here.
My idee is not to disturb the nest until we ketch the bird. This is my
plan. We three 'll put in our nights ranging about town, lookin' into
the gambling dens, saloons, and hotels. If the skunk is hidin' that's
the time he'll come out of his hole, eh, Bill?"
"Sartin sure," was the decided reply.
"Well, then, Walt, hear to reason. Don't you see that if there's
anything to be done, the night's our best holt to do it in?"
Walter was not more than half convinced. "Couldn't I have him arrested
on the strength of the handbill Marshal Tukey got out, offering a
reward, and describing Ramon to a hair? See, here it is," drawing it
out of an inside pocket and holding it up to view. "I could swear to
him, you know, and so could Bill."
"On a stack of Bibles," Bill assented.
"Let me see it," Charley demanded, rapidly running his eye over the
precious document. "'Five hundred dollars reward!' Five hundred
fiddlesticks! Why, he'd go five hundred better and be off in a jiffy,
with just a nod and a wink from the officers to keep out of the way a
while." Having expressed this opinion, Charley tossed the handbill on
the table with a disdainful sniff.
Walter was dumb. He had actually thought for a whole month that the
mere sight of this accusing piece of paper would make the guilty
wretch fall on his knees and beg for mercy. And to be told now that it
was only so much waste paper struck him speechless.
Charley again came to the rescue. "Come, come; don't stand there
looking as if you'd lost every friend you had on earth, but brace up.
If you'd wanted to have that robber arrested, you should have gone a
different way to work--'cordin' to law."
"What's to be done, then?"
"My idee is like this. Californy law is no good, anyhow. It's on the
side that has most dust. But here's three of us and only one of him.
We can lay for him, get him into some quiet corner, and then frighten
him into doing what we say. How's that?"
"Capital! Just the thing. I always said you had the best head of the
three."
"All right, then," cried Charley in his old, sprightly way; "I give
you both a holiday, so you can see the sights. Walter, you take care
that Bill don't get lost or stolen."
"Me take care o' him, you mean," Bill retorted.
Getting into the boat the two friends then pulled for the shore.
Walter's first remark, as they slowly sauntered along, was: "What a
wooden-looking town! Wooden houses, wooden sidewalks, plank streets.
It looks as if everything had sprung up in a night."
And so it had. At this time the city was beginning to work its way out
from the natural beach toward deeper water; for as deep water would
not come to the city, the city had to go out to deep water. And as
many of the coming streets were as yet only narrow footways, thrust
out over the shallow waters of the bay, the entire ragged waterfront
seemed cautiously feeling its way toward its wished-for goal. Cheap
one-story frame buildings were following these extensions of new and
old streets, as fast as piles could be driven for them, so that a
famous clattering of hammers was going on on every side from morning
to night.
The two friends soon had an exciting experience. Just ahead of them, a
dray was being driven down the wharf at a rapid rate, making the loose
planks rattle again. In turning out to let another dray pass him, the
driver of the first went too near the edge of the wharf, when the
weight of horse and dray suddenly tilted the loose planks in the air,
the driver gave a yell, and over into the dock went horse, dray, and
man with a tremendous splash.
It was all done so quickly that Walter and Bill stood for a moment
without stirring. Fortunately their boat was only a few rods off,
so both ran back for her in a hurry. A few strokes brought them to
where the frightened animal was still helplessly floundering in the
water, dragged down by the weight of the dray. The man was first
pulled into the boat, dripping wet. Bill then cut the traces with
his sheath-knife, while the drayman held the struggling animal by
the bit. He was then towed to the beach safe and sound. By this time
a crowd had collected. Seeing his rescuers pushing off, the drayman
elbowed his way out of the crowd, and shouted after them, "I say, you,
_hombres_, this ain't no place to take a bath, is it? This ain't no
place to be bashful. Come up to my stand, Jackson and Sansome, and ask
for Jack Furbish."
"Is your name Furbish?" asked Bill, resting on his oars.
"Yes; why?"
"Oh, nothin', only we lost a man overboard onct off Cape Horn. His
name was Furbish."
"Well, 'twarn't me. I was lost overboard from Pacific Wharf. Jackson
and Sansome! Git up, Jim!" bringing his blacksnake smartly down on his
horse's steaming flanks.
XIII
IN WHICH A MAN BREAKS INTO HIS OWN STORE, AND STEALS HIS OWN SAFE
Walter's idea, as far as he had thought it out, was to hold on to
this lumber cargo until Mr. Bright could be notified just how the
matter stood. Should the merchant then choose to take any steps toward
recovering the cargo of the _Southern Cross_, Walter thought this act
on his part might go far to remove the unjust suspicions directed
against himself. For this reason he had secured, as we have seen, a
refusal of the cargo long enough for a letter to go and return.
Walter now set about writing his letter, but he now found that what
had seemed so simple at first was no easy matter. As he sat staring
vacantly at the blank paper before him, tears came into his eyes;
for again the trying scene in the merchant's counting-room rushed
vividly upon his memory. An evil voice within him said, "Why should
I trouble myself about those who have so ill-used me and robbed me
of my good name?" Yet another, and gentler, voice answered, "Do unto
others as you would that they should do unto you." Compressing his
lips resolutely, he succeeded in writing a very formal letter, not at
all like what he had intended. But the main thing was to make himself
clearly understood. So he carefully studied every word before putting
it down in black and white, as follows:
"MR. BRIGHT,
"_Sir_: This is to inform you of my being here. I could not bear
to be suspected of dishonesty when I knew I was innocent of
wrongdoing. So I left. This is to inform you that the _Southern
Cross_ is in charge of my friend Mr. Charles Wormwood. You may
recollect him. He is a fine young man. Between us, we've got hold
of half the cargo, and I have the refusal of the other half for
ninety days. The man who owns it has gone away. If you think it
worth while, send directions to somebody here what to do about it.
This is a great country, only I'm afraid it will burn up all the
time.
"Your true friend,
"WALTER SEABURY."
While on his way uptown to post his letter, Walter heard a familiar
voice call out, "Hi, _hombre_! lookin' for a job?" It was the drayman
of yesterday's adventure, placidly kicking his heels on the tail of
his dray.
Walter candidly admitted that he would like something to do. The
drayman spoke up briskly: "Good enough. Not afraid of dirty hands?
No? Good again. Got some _plata_? No? Cleaned out, eh? So was I. Say,
there's a first-rate handcart stand, on the next corner above here,
I've had my eye on for some time. More people pass there in a day
than any other in 'Frisco. Talk biz. That comer has been waiting for
you, or it would 'a' been snapped up long ago. No job less than six
bits. You can make anywhere from five to ten dollars a day. Come, what
do you say? Do we hitch hosses or not?"
Walter had a short struggle with his pride. It did seem rather low,
to be sure, to be pushing a handcart through the streets, like
the rag-men seen at home, but beggars should not be choosers, he
reflected. So, putting his pride in his pocket, the bargain was closed
without more words.
Certainly Walter's best friends would hardly have known him when
he made his first appearance on the stand, bright and early next
morning, rigged out in a gray slouch hat, red woolen shirt, and blue
overalls tucked into a pair of stout cowhide boots. His face, too, was
beginning to show signs of quite a promising beard which Walter was
often seen caressing as if to make sure it was still there overnight
and which, indeed, so greatly altered his looks that he now felt
little fear of being recognized by Ramon, should they happen to meet
some day unexpectedly in the street.
Walter ranched with his employer in a loft. With a hammer, a saw,
and some nails, he had soon knocked together a bunk out of some old
packing boxes. In this he slept on a straw mattress also of his own
make, with a pair of coarse blankets for bedclothes. Another packing
box, a water pail, a tin wash-basin, towel, and soap comprised all
necessary conveniences, with which the morning toilet was soon made.
The bed required no making. Rather primitive housekeeping, to be sure;
yet Walter soon learned, from actual observation, that a majority
of the merchants, some of whom were reputed worth their hundreds of
thousands, were no better lodged than himself.
On the whole, Walter rather liked his new occupation, as soon as his
first awkwardness had worn off. Here, at any rate, he was his own
master, and Walter had always chafed at being ordered about by boys
no older than himself. Then, he liked the hearty, democratic way in
which everybody greeted everybody. It made things move along much more
cheerfully. Walter was attentive. Business was good. At the close of
each day he handed over his earnings to his employer, who kept his own
share, punctually returning Walter the rest. "You'll be buyin' out
Sam Brannan one of these days, if you keep on as you're goin'," was
Furbish's encouraging remark, as he figured up Walter's earnings at
twenty-five dollars, at the end of the first week.
"Who's Sam Brannan?"
"Not know who Sam Brannan is?" asked the drayman, lifting his eyebrows
in amazement. "He's reputed the richest man in 'Frisco. Owns a big
block on Montgomery Street. Income's two thousand a day, they tell
me."
Walter could only gape, open-mouthed, in astonishment. The bare idea
of any one man possessing such unheard-of wealth was something that he
had never dreamed of.
"Fact," repeated the drayman, observing Walter's look of incredulity.
The restaurant at which Walter took his meals, until circumstances
suggested a change, was one of the institutions peculiar to the San
Francisco of that day. An old dismantled hulk had been hauled up
alongside the wharf, the spar-deck roofed over, and some loose boards,
laid upon wooden trestles, made to serve the purpose of a table, while
the ship's caboose performed its customary office of scullery and
kitchen.
The restaurant keeper was evidently new to the business, for he
was in the habit of urging his customers to have a second helping
of everything, much to the annoyance of his wife, who did the
cooking. This woman was one of the class locally known as Sydney
Ducks, from the fact that she had come from Australia under the
sanction of a ticket-of-leave. She was fat, brawny, red-faced,
and quick-tempered,--in fact, fiery,--and when out of sorts gave
her tongue free license. The pair were continually quarreling at
meal-times, regardless of the presence of the boarders, some of whom
took a malicious pleasure in egging on the one or the other when words
failed them. But it happened more than once that, when words failed,
man and wife began shying plates, or cups and saucers, at each other's
head, which quickly cleared the table of boarders.
Walter stood this sort of thing stoically until, one noon, when he
was just entering the dining room, a flat-iron came whizzing by him,
narrowly missing his head. The language that accompanied it showed
madam to be mistress of the choicest Billingsgate in profusion. By the
time a second flat-iron sailed through the door Walter was a block
away, and still running. It was shrewdly surmised that man and wife
had broken up housekeeping.
Meanwhile the search for Ramon was faithfully kept up, yet so far with
no better success than if the ground had opened and swallowed him up.
Nobody knew a person of the name of Ingersoll. No doubt he had assumed
another less incriminating. A decoy letter dropped in the post-office
remained there unclaimed until sent to the dead-letter office. "Fool
if he hadn't changed his name," muttered Bill, as Walter and he stood
at a street corner, looking blankly into each other's face.
They were taking their customary stroll uptown in the evening, when
the big bell on the plaza suddenly clanged out an alarm of fire.
There was no appearance of fire anywhere,--no shooting flames, no
smoke, no red glare in the sky,--yet every one seemed flocking, as if
by a common understanding, toward the Chinese quarter. Catching the
prevailing excitement, the three friends pressed forward with the
crowd, which at every step was visibly increasing. Upon reaching the
point where the fire-engines were already hard at work, the crowd grew
more and more dense, shouts and cries broke out here and there, lights
were glancing hither and thither, and still no sign of fire could be
detected. What could it all mean?
It meant that by a secret understanding among the firemen, winked at
by the city authorities, the fire department was "cleaning out" the
Chinese quarter, which had become an intolerable nuisance, dangerous
to health on account of the filthy habits of the moon-eyed Celestials.
The fire lads were only too willing to undertake the job, which
promised to be such a fine lark, and at the first tap of the bells
they had rushed their machines to the indicated spot, run their hose
into the houses, and, regardless of the screams and howlings of the
frightened inmates, who were wildly running to and fro in frantic
efforts to escape, a veritable deluge of water was being poured upon
them from a dozen streams, fairly washing the poor devils out of house
and home, some by the doors, some by leaping out of the windows, and
some by the roofs. Whenever one made his appearance, the shouts of the
mob would direct the firemen where to point their powerful streams,
which quickly sent the unresisting victim rolling in the dirt, from
which he scrambled to his feet more dead than alive.
Meantime the Chinese quarter had been thoroughly drenched, inside and
out, the terrified inhabitants scattered in every direction, their
belongings utterly ruined either by water or by being thrown into the
street pell-mell, and they themselves chased and hunted from pillar to
post like so many rats drowned out of their holes by an inundation,
until the last victim had fled beyond the reach of pursuit.
When the whole district had been thus depopulated the vast throng
turned homeward in great good humor at having shown those miserable
barbarians how things were done in civilized America.
Time slipped away in this manner, and gradually the edge was being
taken off from the keenness of the search, though never completely
lost sight of. Not a nook or corner of the town had been left
unvisited, and still no Ramon. It was, even as Walter had first
described it, quite like looking for a needle in a haystack.
One morning Walter was called to help Furbish move some goods from
a downtown wharf to a certain warehouse uptown. The owner was found
standing among his belongings, which were piled and tossed about
helter-skelter, in a state of angry excitement, which every now
and then broke forth in muttered threats and snappy monosyllables,
directed to a small crowd of bystanders who had been attracted to the
spot.
"There'll be some hanging done round here before long," he muttered,
scowling darkly at two or three rough-looking men, each armed with a
brace of pistols, who stood with their backs against the door of the
building from which the man's goods had been so hastily thrown out.
This building stood on one of the new streets spoken of in a former
chapter as built out over the water, or on what was then known as a
water-lot. It seems that the title to this lot was claimed by two
parties. The late occupant had taken a lease from one claimant for a
term of years, and had built a store upon the lot, wholly ignorant
that another party claimed it. He had punctually paid his rent to
his landlord every month, and was therefore dumfounded when, late
one afternoon, the second claimant, armed with an order of a certain
judge and accompanied by a sheriff's posse, walked into his store, and
after demanding payment of all back rents, which was stoutly refused,
promptly ejected the unfortunate tenant, neck and heels, from his
place of business. His goods were then thrown out into the street
after him, and the door locked against him, with an armed guard
keeping possession. This was the state of things when Furbish and
Walter arrived on the ground.
"It's a wicked shame," declared Walter indignantly.
"Makes business good for us," was Furbish's careless reply. Then
lowering his voice, he added, "Talk low and keep shady. Mark my words.
There'll be hanging done before long," thus unconsciously echoing the
very words of the dispossessed tenant.
Walter took the hint. He stared, it is true, but went to work without
further comment, though he could see that the sympathy of the crowd
was clearly with the unfortunate tenant. When the last load had
been carted away, the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving only the
surly-looking guards on the spot.
"Is all out?" demanded Furbish of the merchant, nodding his head
toward the empty building.
"All but my safe. I want that bad; but you see these robbers won't
let me in. It was too heavy for them to move, or they were too lazy,
and now they won't even let me take my papers out of it. Curse them!"
"Got the key?"
"Oh, yes! That's all safe in my pocket. But what's a man going to do
with a key?"
"You want that safe bad?"
"I'd give a hundred dollars for it this minute; yes, two hundred."
Furbish now held a whispered colloquy with Walter. "Do you think your
friends would take a hand?"
"Oh, I'll answer for them," was the ready reply.
"Enough said."
A place of meeting was then fixed upon, after which the three
conspirators went their several ways--Furbish to mature his plan of
action, the merchant to nurse his new-found hopes, Walter to enlist
his two friends in the coming adventure. Charley was in high spirits
at the prospect. Bill thought it a risky piece of business, but if
his boys were going to take a hand in it he would have to go too.
Charley put an end to further argument by declaring that it was a
burning shame if a man couldn't go into his own store after his own
property, law or no law. For his part, he was bound to see the thing
through. Walter stipulated that there should be no violence used, and
that he should not be asked to enter the building if it was found to
be still in the hands of the sheriff's men.
Just at midnight a row-boat, with an empty lighter in tow, put off
from the _Argonaut's_ side, care being taken to keep in the deep
shadows as much as possible. Not a word was exchanged as the tow was
quietly brought to the place agreed upon, where it lay completely
hidden from curious eyes, if any such had been abroad at that hour. As
the lighter lightly grazed the wharf a dark figure stole cautiously
out from the shadow cast by a neighboring warehouse, and dropped into
the hands stretched out to receive it: still another followed, and the
party, now complete, held a short council in whispers.
Furbish had reconnoitered the store, finding only one watchman on
guard outside. Yet he was positive that there were two or more
inside, as he had seen a light shining through a crevice in the
window-shutters, which suddenly disappeared while he was watching it.
The evicted merchant then explained that this light must have come
from the little office, at the right hand of the street door, where
he usually slept. This information confirmed the belief that the men
inside had turned in until their turn should come to relieve the
guard outside. If this should prove true, the midnight intruders felt
that they would have a more easy task than they had supposed. This,
however, remained to be seen. After listening to a minute description
of the store, inside and out, Furbish gave the signal to proceed.
Making the boat fast to the scow's stern, the latter was poled along
in the shadows of the wharves until, under Bill's skillful guidance,
she glided between the two piers which supported the building that the
party was in search of.
All listened intently for any sound indicating that their approach
had been detected. As all seemed safe, the scow was quickly made
fast directly underneath the trap-door contrived for hoisting up
merchandise into the store by means of a block and tackle secured
to a stout rafter overhead--an operation at which Charley had often
assisted. It was, therefore, through this same trap-door that the
intruders now meant to effect an entrance. But a first attempt, very
cautiously made, to raise it, proved it to be bolted on the inside.
This contingency, however, had been provided against, for Charley now
produced a large auger, on which he rubbed some tallow to deaden the
sound, while the merchant held a dark lantern in such a way as to
show Charley where to use his tool to advantage.