THE COMSTOCK FURORE
Press reports gave full and wide sensation to the capture of the
"Chapman." Chief Lees took every credit for the thwarting of a "Plot of
Southern Pirates" who "Conspired to Prey Upon the Golden Galleons From
California." Thus the headlines put it. And Benito was relieved to find
no mention of himself. Harpending he knew and liked, despite his
Southern sympathies; Rubery he had met; an English lad, high-spirited
and well connected. In fact, John Bright soon had his errant nephew out
of jail. And when, a few months later, Harpending and Greathouse were
released, Benito deemed the story happily ended. He heard nothing from
McTurpin. No doubt the fellow was dead.
That troublesome proclivity of wooing chance was uppermost again in
Windham's mind. It was only natural perhaps, for all of San Francisco
gambled now in mining stocks. The brokers swarmed like bees along
Montgomery street; every window had its shelf of quartz and nuggets
interspersed with pictures of the "workings" at Virginia City. It was
Nevada now that held the treasure-seeker's eye.
Within a year it had produced six millions. Scores of miners staked
their claims upon or near the Comstock lode and most of them sought
capital in San Francisco. Washerwomen, bankers, teamsters--every class
was bitten by the microbe of hysterical investment. Some had made great
fortunes; none apparently thus far had lost.
In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon
Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick invited.
Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on
Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's financiers.
He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate. I've made ten
thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining stock, Benito?"
"No," retorted Windham. He suffered Lick to lead him to the bar. Will
O'Brien, a shrewd-faced merry Irishman, took their orders. He and Flood
had bought an interest in Virginia City ... "a few fate only, but it's
goin' t' make us rich, me lad," he said enthusiastically as he set their
glasses out upon the bar. "We'll all be nabobs soon. Ain't that the
God's truth, Mr. Ralston?"
"Sure, my boy," a deep voice answered heartily. Windham turned and saw a
man of forty, tall, well-molded, with a smiling forceful countenance. He
seemed to smack of large affairs.
Benito sipped his liquor, listening absorbedly while Ralston rattled off
facts, figures, prospects in connection with the Comstock lode.
"The Nevada mines will pay big," Benito heard him tell a group of
bearded men who hung upon his utterances. "BIG! You can bet your bottom
dollar on it. If you've money, don't let it stay idle."
Benito bade his friend good-bye and went out, thinking deeply. He
wondered what Alice would say if....
Nesbitt of The Bulletin interrupted his musing. "Heard the news, Benito?
We're to have a stock exchange next month."
"The brokers are opposed to it. They don't want staple values, because,
now and then, they can pick up a bargain or drive a hard trade. And they
can peddle 'wildcat' stocks to tenderfeet.... We must stop that sort
of thing."
"Quite so," said Windham vaguely comprehending. Nesbitt babbled on.
"There are to be forty charter members, with a fund of $2000."
He took a pencil from his pocket. Tapped Benito's shirt front with it.
"Buy a little Gould and Curry.... I've just had a tip that it will
rise." He hurried on.
* * * * *
Windham let his clients wait that afternoon. He took a walk toward Twin
Peaks on Market street. That lordly, though neglected, thoroughfare
began to make pretensions toward commercial activity. Opposite
Montgomery street was St. Ignatius Church. Farther down toward the docks
were lumber yards and to the west were little shops, mostly one-storied,
widely scattered. Chinese laundries, a livery stable or two. The
pavements were stretches of boardwalk interspersed with sand or mud,
trodden into passable trails. Down the broad center ran a track on which
for years a dummy engine had labored back and forth, drawing flat cars
laden with sand. Now most of the sand hills were leveled above Kearny
street. Benito picked his way along the northern side of Market street
till he came to Hayes. There the new horse car line ran to Hayes park.
One was just leaving as he reached the corner, so he hopped aboard. As
the driver took his fare he nodded cordially. Benito recognized him as a
former client.
"Listen," said the fellow, "you did me a good turn once, Mr. Windham.
Now I'll return the compliment." He leaned nearer, whispered. "Buy some
Hale and Norcross mining stock. I've got a tip straight from the
president. It's going up."
* * * * *
In the spring of '64, Virginia City mines still yielded treasure
harvests unbelievable. Windham's bank account had risen to the
quarter-million mark. Month by month he watched his assets grow by leaps
more marvelous than even his romantic fancy could fore-vision. Stocks
were climbing at a rate which raised the value of each share $100 every
thirty days.
San Francisco's Stock and Exchange Board, the leading of the three such
institutions, had quarters in the Montgomery block. Electric
telegraphs, which flashed its stock quotations round the world, made it
a money power in London, Paris and New York.
Benito had a home now in South Park, the city's new, exclusive residence
section. From there the Omnibus Street Railway Company, in which he was
a large stockholder, operated horse cars to North Beach. He wore a high
hat now and spectacles. There were touches of gray in his hair.
As he entered the exchange, a nimble-fingered Morse-operator was marking
figures on a blackboard.
Windham heard his name called; turning, met the outstretched hand of
William Ralston. They chatted for a time on current matters. There was
to be a Merchants' Exchange. Already ground was broken for the building.
The Bank of California, one of Ralston's enterprises, would soon open
its doors. Ralston was in a dozen ventures, all of them constructive,
public spirited. He counted his friends by the hundreds. Suddenly he
turned from contemplation of the blackboard to Benito.
"Carrying much Virginia City nowadays?"
Benito told him. Ralston knit his brow, deliberating. Then he said with
crisp decision, "Better start unloading soon, my son."
Benito was surprised; expostulated. Ophir, Gould and Curry, Savage were
as steady as a rock. He didn't want to lose a "bag of money." Ralston
heard him, nodded curtly, walked away. Disturbed, rebellious, Benito
quit the place. He wanted quiet to digest the older man's advice.
Ralston had the name of making few mistakes. Restlessly Benito sought an
answer to his problem. In the end he went home undecided and retired
dinnerless, explaining that he had a headache. He awoke with a fever the
next morning. Alice, frightened by his haggard eyes, sent Po Lun for
a doctor.