SHERMAN RESIGNS
On Saturday, June 7, Benito found Coleman sitting at his desk in the
executive chamber of Fort Gunnysacks. His usually cheerful countenance
wore an anxious look, a look of inner conflict. He glanced up, almost
startled, as Benito entered.
"Fred Macondray and his party are outside," said Windham. "They would
like to see you."
"What do they wish?" asked Coleman in a harassed tone.
"They're leaving for Benicia today to see the Governor," Benito
answered. "Want your final word on mediation matters."
Coleman rose with a brisk movement. He paced the room half a dozen
times, his hands behind him, his head slightly bent, before he spoke.
"Bring 'em in. Call Bluxome and as many of the Executive Committee as
you can find."
Benito departed. Presently there filed into the room nine gentlemen,
headed by Macondray. They belonged neither to the Vigilantes nor to the
Law and Order Party. And they were now bent on averting a clash
between the two.
"William," Macondray, acting as the spokesman, "what message shall we
take the Governor?"
Bluxome, Smiley, Dempster and others of the Executive Committee entered.
Coleman explained to them the purpose of Macondray and his friends.
"What shall we say to them, boys?" he asked.
"Put it in your own words," Bluxome said. "We'll stand by what you
say."
Coleman faced Macondray and his companions. "Tell J. Neely Johnson," he
announced, "that if he will consent to withdraw his proclamation we
will, on our part, make no further parade of our forces on the street,
nor will we resist by force any orders of the court."
Bluxome and his companions nodded. Macondray looked a trifle puzzled.
"Suppose he declines to withdraw the proclamation?" he asked,
hesitatingly.
"Then," the voice of Coleman rang, "we promise nothing."
* * * * *
On the boat which took them to Benicia, Macondray and his friends met
Major-General Sherman of the State Militia. They found him striding up
and down the deck, chewing his cigar. Macondray and he compared notes.
Sherman had been summoned for an interview with Johnson. The Governor
planned a final onslaught of persuasion, hoping General Wool would
change his mind; would furnish arms for the militia.
"If he doesn't, it's useless. Men can't fight without guns." Macondray
thought he noted an undertone of relief in Sherman's words.
"Do you think he'll give them to you?" Macondray asked in an undertone.
Sherman slowly shook his head. He walked away, as though he dreaded
further questioning.
* * * * *
At Benicia, Sherman and the Macondray party rode up in the same 'bus to
the Solano House. Sherman was admitted at once. The committee was asked
to wait. Sherman entered a room blue with tobacco smoke. It contained
four men, besides the Governor: Chief Justice David S. Terry, a tall man
with a hard face, sat tilted back in a chair, his feet on the Governor's
table. He had not taken off his hat. Without moving or apparently
looking in that direction, he spat at regular intervals toward the
fireplace. Near him sat Edward S. Baker, statesmanlike, impressive,
despite his drink-befuddlement; Edward Jones, of Palmer, Cook & Co.,
smaller, shrewd, keen and avaricious-eyed, was pouring a drink from a
decanter; Volney Howard, fat, pompous, aping a blasé, decadent manner,
stood, as usual, near the mantel.
They all looked up as Sherman entered. Terry favored him with a
half-concealed scowl; Howard with an open sneer; Jones with deprecating
hostility. Baker smiled. The Governor, who seemed each day to grow more
nervous and irritable, held out his hand.
"Well, well, Sherman," he greeted, "glad to see you." Then his brow knit
in a kind of puzzled provocation. "What's that Vigilante Committee doing
here with you?"
Terry grunted and spat. Sherman looked them over with a repulsion he
could not completely conceal. They were men of violent prejudices. It
was bad to see the Governor so completely in their grasp.
"They are not Vigilantes, your Excellency," he began with punctilious
hauteur.
"The hell they're not!" said Terry.
Sherman ignored him completely. "My meeting with them was purely
casual," he resumed. "They are prominent, impartial citizens of San
Francisco, seeking to make peace. They have, I understand, seen Coleman;
are prepared to offer certain compromises."
"Aha!" cried Howard, "the rabble is caving in. They're ready to quit."
Johnson looked at Sherman as if for confirmation. He shook his head.
"Far from it."
"Cannot they state their business in writing?" asked Johnson.
"Send them packing, the damned pork merchants!" Terry said, as if
issuing a command.
Again the Governor seemed to hesitate. Again his glance sought
Sherman's. "That would be unwise," returned the soldier.
The Governor summoned a clerk. "Ask the committee to put their business
in writing!" he ordered. When the man had gone he once more addressed
Sherman: "Wool absolutely refuses to provide the militia with arms."
Terry's fist smote the table with a crash. A stream of vituperation
issued from his lips. General Wool, the Vigilance Committee and Admiral
Farragut were vilified in terms so crude that even the other men
surveyed the Chief Justice with distaste.
Sherman turned to the door. "Governor, I've had enough of this," he
spoke sharply. "I shall send you my resignation tonight." He went out,
leaving Johnson to mutter distressedly. "Never mind," said Terry, "give
his job to Volney. He'll drive the damned pork merchants into the sea."
"What about rifles and ammunition?" asked Howard with sudden
practicality.
They looked at each other blankly. Then the wily Jones came forward with
a shrewd suggestion. "Wool can't refuse you the regular quota of arms
for annual replenishment," he said. "Get those by requisition. Ship them
down to San Francisco. Reub Maloney is here. He'll carry them down in
a sloop."
"But they're only a few hundred guns," said the Governor.
"They'll help," contended Jones. "They'll make a showing."
"Suppose Coleman hears about it; he'll seize them on the bay."
"Then he'll commit an act of 'piracy'," Baker said, explosively.
Terry took his feet from the table, rose. "By God!" he exclaimed,
"there's an idea! Piracy! A capital offense!" He crammed his hands into
his pockets and strode heavily up and down.
"Coleman's not likely to hear of our sending these arms," said the
Governor.
Jones poured another drink and sipped it. "Isn't he, though?" He laughed
softly. "You fellows just leave that to me." He caught up his hat
and went out.
"A smart little man," remarked Howard Baker, complacently.