DEEP PLOTS AND PLANS--BILL JONES RELATES HIS MISADVENTURES--MADEMOISELLE
NELINA CONSENTS TO RUN OFF WITH LARRY O'NEIL--A YANKEE MUSICIAN
OUTWITTED--THE ESCAPE.
As Larry had rightly anticipated, Bill Jones made his appearance at the
City Hotel the moment the concert was over, and found his old comrades
waiting anxiously for him.
It did not take long to tell him how they had discovered the existence
of Nelly Morgan, as we shall now call her, but it took much longer to
drag from Bill the account of his career since they last met, and the
explanation of how he came to be placed in his present circumstances.
"Ye see, friends," said he, puffing at a pipe, from which, to look at
him, one would suppose he derived most of his information, "this is how
it happened. When I set sail from the diggin's to come here for grub, I
had a pleasant trip at first. But after a little things began to look
bad; the feller that steered us lost his reckoning, an' so we took two
or three wrong turns by way o' makin' short cuts. That's always how it
Is. There's a proverb somewhere--"
"In Milton, maybe, or Napier's book o' logarithms," suggested Captain
Bunting.
"P'r'aps it wos, and p'r'aps it wosn't," retorted Bill, stuffing the end
of his little finger, (if such a diminutive may be used in reference to
any of his fingers), into the bowl of his pipe. "I raither think myself
it wos in _Bell's Life_ or the _Royal Almanac_; hows'ever, that's wot it
is. When ye've got a short road to go, don't try to make it shorter,
say I--"
"An' when ye've got a long story to tell, don't try to make it longer,"
interrupted Larry, winking at his comrade through the smoke of his pipe.
"Well, as I wos sayin'," continued Bill, doggedly, "we didn't git on so
well after a bit; but somehow or other we got here at last, and cast
anchor in this very hotel. Off I goes at once an' buys a cart an' a
mule, an' then I sets to work to lay in provisions. Now, d'ye see,
lads, 'twould ha' bin better if I had bought the provisions first an'
the mule and the cart after, for I had to pay ever so many dollars a day
for their keep. At last I got it all square; packed tight and tied up
in the cart--barrels o' flour, and kegs o' pork, an' beans, an' brandy,
an' what not; an' away I went alone; for, d'ye see, I carry a compass,
an' when I've once made a voyage, I never need to be told how to steer.
"But my troubles began soon. There's a ford across the river here,
which I was told I'd ha' to cross; and sure enough, so I did--but it's
as bad as Niagara, if not worse--an' when I gits half way over, we wos
capsized, and went down the river keel up. I dun know yet very well how
I got ashore, but I did somehow--"
"And did the cart go for it?" inquired Captain Bunting, aghast.
"No, the cart didn't. She stranded half-a-mile further down, on a rock,
where she lies to this hour, with a wheel smashed and the bottom out,
and about three thousand tons o' water swashin' right through her every
hour; but all the provisions and the mule went slap down the Sacramento;
an', if they haven't bin' picked up on the way, they're cruisin' off the
port o' San Francisco by this time."
The unfortunate seaman stopped at this point to relight his pipe, while
his comrades laughingly commented on his misadventure.
"Ah! ye may laugh; but I can tell ye it warn't a thing to be laughed at;
an' at this hour I've scarce one dollar to rub 'gainst another."
"Never mind, my boy," said Ned, as he and the others laughed loud and
long at the lugubrious visage of their comrade; "we've got well-lined
pockets, I assure you; and, of course, we have _your_ share of the
profits of our joint concern to hand over whenever you wish it."
The expression of Bill Jones's face was visibly improved by this piece
of news, and he went on with much greater animation.
"Well, my story's short now. I comed back here, an' by chance fell in
with this feller--this Yankee-nigger--who offered me five dollars a day
to haul up the curtain, an' do a lot o' dirty work, sich as bill
stickin', an' lightin' the candles, an' sweepin' the floor; but it's
hard work, I tell ye, to live on so little in sich a place as this,
where everything's so dear."
"You're not good at a bargain, I fear," remarked Sinton; "but what of
the little girl?"
"Well, I wos comin' to that. Ye see, I felt sure, from some things I
overheerd, that she wasn't the man's daughter, so one day I axed her who
she wos, an' she said she didn't know, except that her name was Nelly
Morgan; so it comed across me that Morgan wos the name o' the Irish
family you wos so thick with up at the diggin's, Larry; an' I wos goin'
to ask if she know'd them, when Jolly--that's the name o' the gitter up
o' the concerts--catched me talkin', an' he took her away sharp, and
said he'd thank me to leave the girl alone. I've been watchin' to have
another talk with her, but Jolly's too sharp for me, an' I haven't spoke
to her yet."
Larry manifested much disappointment at this termination, for he had
been fully prepared to hear that the girl had made Bill her confidant,
and would be ready to run away with him at a moment's notice. However,
he consoled himself by saying that he would do the thing himself; and,
after arranging that Bill was to tell Nelly that a friend of his knew
where her sister was, and would like to speak with her, they all retired
to rest, at least to rest as well as they could in a house which, like
all the houses in California, swarmed with rats.
Next night Bill Jones made a bold effort, and succeeded in conveying
Larry's message to Nelly, very adroitly, as he thought, while she was
standing close to him waiting for Mr Jolly to lead her to the
foot-lights. The consequence was that the poor child trembled like a
leaf when she attempted to sing, and, finally, fainted on the stage, to
the consternation of a crowded house.
The point was gained, however; Nelly soon found an opportunity of
talking in private with Bill Jones, and appointed to meet Larry in the
street next morning early, near the City Hotel.
It was with trembling eagerness, mixed with timidity, that she took the
Irishman's arm when they met, and asked if he really knew where her
sister was.
"Oh, how I've longed for her! But are you _sure_ you know her?"
"Know her!" said Larry, with a smile. "Do I know meself?"
This argument was unanswerable, so Nelly made no reply, and Larry went
on. "Yes, avic, I know'd her, an' faix I hope to know her better. But
here's her picture for ye."
Larry then gave the earnest listener at his side a graphic description
of her sister Kate's personal appearance, and described her brother
also, but he did not, at that time, acquaint her with the death of the
latter. He also spoke of Black Jim, and described the circumstances of
her being carried off. "So ye see, darlin'," said he, "I know all about
ye; an' now I want ye to tell me what happened to ye after that."
"It's a sad story," said the child, in a low tone, as if her mind were
recalling melancholy incidents in her career. Then she told rapidly,
how she had been forsaken by those to whom she had been intrusted, and
left to perish in the mountain snow; and how, in her extremity, God had
sent help; how another party of emigrants found her and carried her on;
how, one by one, they all died, till she was left alone a second time;
and how a Mexican horseman found her, and carried her to his home, and
kept her there as his adopted daughter, till he was killed while taming
a wild horse. After that, Nelly's story was a repetition of what Larry
had already overheard accidentally in the concert-room.
"Now, dear," said Larry, "we haven't time to waste, will ye go with me
to San Francisco?"
The tones of the rough man's voice, rather than his words, had
completely won the confidence of the poor child, so she said, "Yes,"
without hesitation. "But how am I to escape from Mr Jolly?" she added;
"he has begun to suspect Mr Jones, I see quite well."
"Lave that to me, darlin', an' do you kape as much as ye can in the
house the nixt day or two, an' be lookin' out for what may turn up.
Good day to ye, mavourneen; we must part here, for fear we're seen by
any lynx-eyed blackguards. Kape up yer heart."
Nelly walked quickly away, half laughing at, and half perplexed by, the
ambiguity of her new friend's parting advice.
The four friends now set themselves to work to outwit Mr Jolly, and rob
him of Mademoiselle Nelina. At last they hit upon a device, which did
not, indeed, say much for the ingenuity of the party, but which, like
many other bold plans, succeeded admirably.
A steamer was to start in three days for San Francisco--one of those
splendid new vessels which, like floating palaces, had suddenly made
their appearance on these distant waters--having made the long and
dangerous voyage from the United States round the Horn. Before the
steamer started, Larry contrived to obtain another interview with Nelly
Morgan, and explained their plan, which was as follows:--
On the day of the steamer sailing, a few hours before the time of
starting, Mr Jolly was to receive the following letter, dated from a
well-known ranche, thirty miles up the river:--
"Sir,--I trust that you will forgive a perfect stranger addressing you,
but the urgency of the case must be my excuse. There is a letter lying
here for you, which, I have reason to know, contains information of the
utmost importance to yourself; but which--owing to circumstances that I
dare not explain in a letter that might chance to fall into wrong
hands--must be opened here by your own hands. It will explain all when
you arrive; meanwhile, as I am a perfect stranger to the state of your
finances, I send you a sufficient quantity of gold-dust by the bearer to
enable you to hire a horse and come up. Pray excuse the liberty I take,
and believe me to be,
"Your obedient servant,
"Edward Sinton."
At the appointed time Larry delivered this epistle, and the bag of gold
into Mr Jolly's hands, and, saying that no answer was required, hurried
away.
If Mr Jolly had been suddenly informed that he had been appointed
secretary of state to the king of Ashantee, he could not have looked
more astonished than when he perused this letter, and weighed the bag of
gold in his hand. The letter itself; had it arrived alone, might, very
likely would, have raised his suspicions, but accompanied as it was by a
bag of gold of considerable value, it commended itself as a genuine
document; and the worthy musician was in the saddle half-an-hour later.
Before starting, he cautioned Nelly not to quit the house on any account
whatever, a caution which she heard but did not reply to. Three hours
later Mr Jolly reached his destination, and had the following letter
put into his hands.
"Sir,--By the time you receive this, your late charge, Mademoiselle
Nelina, will be on her way to San Francisco, where you are welcome to
follow her, and claim her from her sister, if you feel so disposed.
"I am, Sir, etcetera,
"Edward Sinton."
We need not repeat what Mr Jolly said, or try to imagine what he felt,
on receipt of _this_ letter! About the time it was put into his hands
the magnificent steamer at the _embarcadero_ gave a shrill whistle, then
it panted violently, the paddles revolved,--and our adventurers were
soon steaming swiftly down the noble river on their way to San
Francisco.