Shortly after my return to the Tuolumne, I was joined by Stormy Jack,
who came to Jacksonville, as he had promised he would, with the
determination to take the world a little easier.
Since his childhood Stormy had never spent a whole week in idleness--at
least not at a single spell--and such a life he soon found, did not help
him to that supreme happiness he had been anticipating from it.
In the little town of Jacksonville an idle man could only find
amusement, in some place where strong drink was sold; and to be, day
after day, continually called upon to resist the temptation to drink,
was a trial too severe for Stormy's mental and physical constitution.
Both had to yield. He got drunk frequently; and on several occasions so
very drunk, as to be affected both in his head and legs at the same
time!
He was himself somewhat surprised at finding himself so often in this
condition of "double drunkenness,"--as he termed it. It was not often
in his life he had been so. It was a serious affair; and he made some
sort of a resolution that it should not occur again.
To avoid its recurrence, he saw that he must employ himself in some way;
and he purchased a rifle, with the design of transforming himself into a
hunter.
By following this profession he could combine business with amusement,
as there were other hunters making a very good thing of it, by supplying
the citizens of Jacksonville with venison and bear meat.
Stormy prosecuted his new calling for about three days. At the end of
that time he had been taught three things. One was, that hunting was
hard work--harder, if possible, than mining. Secondly, he discovered
that the amusement of the chase was, after all, not so grand--especially
when followed as a profession, or by a man of peculiar inclinations,
altogether different to his own. Finally, Stormy arrived at the
conclusion, that the business didn't pay.
The truth is, Stormy was no marksman; and could only hit a barn, by
going inside, and closing the door before firing off his piece.
The calling of a hunter was not suited to the old "salt," nor was it of
the kind he required, to keep him from backsliding into his bad habit.
He therefore determined to give it up, and take to some other.
While deliberating on what was to be done, he again yielded to the old
temptation; and got gloriously drunk.
Alas, for poor Stormy! It proved the last intoxication of his life!
The story of his death is too sad to be dismissed in a few words; and
when heard, will doubtless be thought deserving of the "full and
particular" account here given of it. I record the facts, in all the
exactitude and minuteness, with which memory has supplied them to
myself.
At that time there was staying in Jacksonville a man known by the name,
or soubriquet, of "Red Ned." I had casually heard of the man, though I
had not seen him, as he had only arrived in the place a few days before;
and was stopping at one of the gambling taverns, with which that mining
village was abundantly provided.
I had heard that Red Ned was a "dangerous man,"--a title of which he was
no little vain; and, probably, ever since his arrival in the place, he
had been looking for an opportunity of distinguishing himself by some
deed of violence.
In my wanderings over the world I have encountered many of those men
known as "bullies." Notwithstanding the infamy attached to the
appellation, I have found some of them--perhaps unfortunately for
themselves--endowed with genuine courage, while others were mere
cowardly wretches--ever seeking to keep up their spurious reputation, by
such opportunities as are offered in quarrelling with half-grown lads,
and men under the influence of drink.
Such swaggerers may be met with in all parts of the world; but nowhere
in such numbers, as in California--which for a country so thinly
peopled, appears to be more than ordinarily afflicted with the
propensity for "bullyism." At least, it was so, at the period of which
I am writing.
At that time, a man, who was known to have killed three or four of his
fellow-creatures, was looked upon with admiration by many, with fear by
as many more, and with abhorrence by a very few indeed.
Quarrels in California, three times out of every four, terminated
fatally for one or other of the combatants; and the survivor of several
such sanguinary affairs was certain to obtain among his fellows a
reputation of some kind--whether of good or evil--and for this,
unhappily, the majority of mankind are but too eager to strive.
Where society exists in a state of half civilisation--such as was that
of California fifteen years ago--it is not so strange that many should
be met, who prefer having the reputation of a bully to having no
reputation at all.
It was the unfortunate fate of my old comrade, to encounter one of these
contemptible creatures--who combine the bully with the coward--in the
person of Red Ned.
Stormy, after giving up the calling of the chase, had found himself once
more afloat, and in search of some business that would be more suited to
his tastes and abilities. While beating about, as already stated, he
had once more given way to his unfortunate propensity for strong drink;
and had got intoxicated both in his mind and his limbs.
While in this state, he had involved himself in a coffee-house quarrel
with the man above mentioned; and who, no doubt, well understood the
helpless condition of his adversary: for it was Red Ned himself who
provoked the quarrel.
When unmolested by others, I never knew a man of a more harmless,
inoffensive disposition than was the old sailor.
Even when under the influence of liquor, he never, to my knowledge,
commenced a dispute; but when in that state, he was inclined to "teach
manners" to any one who might interfere with him.
Red Ned had met Stormy in one of the gambling taverns, where the latter
was carrying on his carouse; and perceiving that the old sailor was
helplessly intoxicated, and moreover, that he was only a sailor--whom he
could affront, without offending any of the company present--his
bullying propensity would not permit him to let pass such a fine
opportunity of gaining the distinction he coveted.
In Stormy's state of inebriety there was but little danger to be dreaded
from any personal conflict with him, for although he was still able to
keep his feet, his legs had reached a degree of drunkenness, that caused
him occasionally to reel and stagger over the floor of the bar-room.
The ruffian, perfectly conscious of all this, made some slurring
remark--intended to reflect upon Stormy's condition, and loud enough for
the latter to hear it.
As might have been expected, the old sailor did not take the slur in
good part; but in return poured forth his displeasure in his usual frank
and energetic manner.
Stormy, when excited by drink, was somewhat extravagant in the use of
vituperative language; and there can be no doubt that the bully was
compelled to listen to some plain-speaking that he did not much relish.
He submitted to the storm for a while; and then rushing upon Stormy, he
struck the old sailor a slap with his open hand.
Stormy, of course, returned the blow with closed fists, and then
proceeded to defend himself, by throwing his body, as well as its
intoxicated legs would allow him, into a boxing attitude.
But the bully had no intention to continue the fight in that cowardly
fashion--as he would have called it; and drawing his bowie-knife out of
his boot, he closed suddenly upon Stormy, and buried its blade in the
old sailors side.
Of course this terminated the strife; and the wounded man was conveyed
to his lodgings.
Volume Two, Chapter VI.