April had gone, and May and June was well-nigh half over. The old
semaphore of Telegraph Hill would have worn itself out signaling
sidewheel steamers had it still been in operation. The transcontinental
railway was stretching out up the valley of the Platte toward the center
of the continent, but Wells-Fargo, and the pony express charging a
dollar a letter, were the only transcontinental rapid transit of the
day. People still went to and from the distant East by way of Aspinwall
and Panama, and the big boats of the Pacific mail were crowded, going or
coming; and one bright June day two women in mourning were escorted
aboard the Sonora and shown to their little stateroom, one a decidedly
pretty girl, the other a sad-faced, careworn, delicate looking widow,
ten or twelve years apparently the senior. They sailed with only one
friend to see them off, an aide-de-camp of the commanding general, yet
not without much curiosity on part of the younger woman as to the
composition of the passenger list. Even before they were beyond the
rocky scarp of Alcatraz, for few things are impossible to a pretty
woman, she had been able to secure a copy and to say, with bated breath,
to the languid invalid: "At least he's not going on this ship. It might
be better if he were." For Miss Geraldine Allyn had not lost faith in
her power to charm.
And one reason why the "he" referred to was not going on this ship was
that the sisters Nevins and Allyn had "booked" their passage nearly two
weeks before, it being useless to remain longer on the Pacific coast in
hopes of finding the fugitive husband, for the consul at Guaymas was
authorized to report the death at Hermosillo, "through wounds and
exposure, of the gallant but unfortunate captain, whose mind must have
given way under his accumulation of troubles." A seal ring that Nevins
used to wear and some letters were all he had to leave, and these had
been duly forwarded to the address of his wife, whose pathetic
inquiries for further particulars elicited nothing more reliable than
that Nevins was dead and buried, and that was the end of him. The
quartermaster got "transportation" for them to New Orleans. A sum
sufficient for their immediate needs was placed in their hands. Another
sum, which did not receive immediate acknowledgment, was also sent to
the disconsolate widow, and now they were going, and that was all.
Going, too, was Loring, though not on that trip, shaking, so to speak,
the dust of California from his feet, a silent but much-disgusted man.
For nearly five weeks he had lived a life that would have tried the
endurance of the patriarch of Holy Writ and wrecked the sunny nature of
a Tapley. Hounded day after day by the so-called agent of the Escalantes
with insolent demands for property that was never in Loring's
possession; threatened with arrest if he did not make restitution or
propose an equivalent; sent practically to Coventry by officials at
headquarters, to whom he was too proud or too sensitive to dilate upon
his wrongs or to tell more than once the straight story of his
innocence; saved from military arrest only by the "stalwart" letter
written by the Yuma surgeon in response to his urgent appeals; comforted
measurably by Blake's eloquent, but emphatically insubordinate, outburst
at the expense of department headquarters; unable to bring to bear for
nearly five weeks the mass of testimony as to character forthcoming from
the superintendent and officers at West Point, and the letters of
classmates and comrades who knew him and felt that the charges must be
false, our Engineer passed through an ordeal the like of which few men
have had to encounter. Then the unexpected happened. The captain of the
Idaho slowly recovered his mind and strength, and with convalescence
came keen recollection of all that had occurred. He too made full report
to the owners of Loring's coolness and determination the night of the
wreck, and was amazed to be told of the charges against that officer.
"Who says so? Who makes such accusations?" he demanded angrily, and was
informed that his friend and shipmate, Purser Traynor, was the person;
whereat the big skipper gave a long, long whistle, looked dazed again,
smote his thigh with a heavy fist, and presently said, "Just you wait a
little;" wherewith he took himself off. Traynor and the first officer
had been very "thick" for a fortnight or so, though that dinner had
never come off. Traynor and the first officer had both been promised
excellent berths the moment the new steamer arrived that was to take the
place of the Idaho. But the captain went cruising out beyond Sacramento,
where the purser had a little nest and brood, and came back later with a
tale he poured into the ears of the company, the result of which was
that Traynor was informed he would be wise to seek other employment;
there would be no place for him on the new Montana; and Traynor took
first boat for the Columbia, and got far away from San Francisco. No
specific charges had been laid at his door, said the owners, when
questioned. Nothing had been proved, nothing probably would be, that
they knew of; but the captain had sailed with Traynor several years, and
had views of his own as to that gentleman's integrity, which when
communicated to Mr. Traynor did not seem to surprise him, and remained
uncontradicted.
Then came the captain to department headquarters. The British sailor has
scant reverence for soldiers of his own land and less for those of any
other, no matter what the rank, and this particular son of the sea was
more Briton than Yankee despite the fact that he had "sailed the
California trade" long years of his life and had taken out his papers in
the early statehood of that wonderful land. Ever since the days of
Stockton and Kearny he had fed fat the ancient grudge he bore the army
and steered as clear of soldier association as was possible for a man
whose ship was dependent in great measure on army patronage. Days before
his unheralded coming to general headquarters the rumors of Loring's
bravery and coolness the night of the wreck had been floating about the
building. But the Engineer had drawn into his shell. He came and went
to and from the office assigned to him, working apparently over field
reports and maps, and never entered another room in the building unless
sent for. It was believed that he had written urgently to the Chief of
Engineers, requesting to be relieved from further duty at San Francisco.
He was neither cleared nor convicted of the allegations at his expense.
There seemed no way of bringing about either result in the absence or
silence of witnesses. But, meantime, he had bitterly resented the
apparent readiness of certain of the officials to look upon him with
suspicion, and had withdrawn from all except most formal and distant
association. No wonder he desired to be relieved from further service
with or near them. Mrs. Nevins had insisted on removing to a cheap
lodging in Sacramento as soon as able to move at all, and had taken her
dependent sister with her, sorely against that young woman's wish, as
she had made an impression, a decided impression upon an unmarried
aide-de-camp who was reported to be wealthy, but whose attentions fell
short of the matrimonial point, as the poverty of the sisters became
revealed to him. There was, therefore, no longer to Loring the possible
embarrassment of meeting or seeing the girl who had so wronged him, yet
there was constant evidence of the seeds that she had sown. Some man, he
felt sure, must have kept alive the rumors to his discredit, and the
extreme constraint of manner, the avoidance, shown by this very
gentleman, stamped him as in all probability the person at fault. Loring
was only waiting now for proofs.
It so happened the very day the stanch old salt came searching through
the building in quest of his friend that the General with two aides and
others of the staff, had assembled in the office of Colonel Strain.
Several of them had known and sailed with the Idaho's master and liked
her captain well, despite his frequent flings at soldiers. His
appearance at the doorway, therefore, was the signal for quite a cordial
welcome. The General himself came forward to take him by the hand and
say how sorry he was at the loss of his ship, and how he hoped soon to
see him on the decks of a bigger and better one. But the bluff captain
thought as little of land generals as of lubbers of lower grade, and was
not as grateful as he should perhaps have been, and was evidently
looking for somebody beyond the sympathetic group, and presently said
so.
"I've come to see Mr. Loring, by George! I haven't laid eyes on him
since the night he backed me up in restoring order and discipline on my
ship. That man ought to have been a sailor! Where'll I find him?" he
concluded abruptly, staring round at the circle of somewhat embarrassed
faces.
"We heard some rumor about this, captain," said the General. "Suppose
you come into my office and tell me the whole story?"
"Why not right here where they can all hear?" was the instant answer.
"I'm told that more'n one man has been at work trying to rob him of the
credit, and as for Mr. Jennings, who was our first officer, I gave the
company a piece of my mind the moment I heard it, and I've got a
tongue-lashing in store for him. 'Taint the first I've had to give him,
either, and it won't be the last if he ever runs foul of me again. They
tell me, what's more, that Escalante's agent has had the impudence to
come here a dozen times threatening Mr. Loring. Next time he comes you
have him kicked out and charge it to me. That man's a thief, and so is
one of the Escalantes--if not more than one. As for Loring, he's head
and shoulders above any of the young fellows that have sailed with me,
and when I was flattened out by the rush of that cowardly gang, he stood
up to 'em like a man. That one shot of his brought 'em up with a jerk
and put an end to the trouble."
He broke off short and glanced about him to note the effect of his
words. It was an awkward moment. Three of the group had had their doubts
as to the possibility of Loring's being culpable, but so disturbed and
partially convinced had been the General and his chief-of-staff, so
active had been the aide-de-camp referred to in his collection and
dissemination of scandal at Loring's expense that no one felt able to
say anything until the General himself had spoken. The Chief evidently
felt his dignity assailed, and his commanding attitude imperiled. No
further revelations ought to be allowed except such as should be
filtered through him or his accredited staff officer.
"Come into my den, captain," he exclaimed, therefore. "You interest me
greatly, and I want to hear all about it."
"I'll come quick enough," said the captain briefly, "after I've seen
Loring. I want to shake hands with him, I say, before I do anything
else. Where'll I find him?" And with most depressing disregard of the
General's greatness, the sailor would have turned his back on the entire
party in order to find his injured friend, but the Chief was a
strategist.
"Ah--go to Mr. Loring, captain," said he, to a ready staff officer, "and
say to him that I desire he should come to my room a moment." And the
aide-de-camp was off like a shot, so the seaman could only wait. The
General led the way into his comfortable room and signaled to one or two
to follow, and presently back came his messenger, and a moment after
him, grave, composed, but freezingly formal, there at the door stood the
Engineer. His eyes brightened up the instant he laid them on the Idaho's
sturdy commander, but etiquette demanded that he should first address
the General.
"You sent for me, sir?"
"I did, Mr. Loring. Our good friend, Captain Moreland, has been telling
us of your most--er--praiseworthy conduct the night of the disaster. We
all, I wish to assure you, are--er--gratified to hear of this. And now
it has occurred to me that Captain Moreland might be able to throw some
light on the very--unpleasant matter which we had to bring to your
attention a few weeks since. Surely he must know something of
these--er--people who were your accusers."
The General was seated at his big desk. He was flanked by the
adjutant-general and backed by a brace of aides. Moreland, the mariner,
was standing at the table and started forward as Loring entered as
though to grasp his hand. The General still considered it essential to
observe a certain air of formality in speaking. It was as though he had
begun to believe Loring an injured man, and therefore he himself must be
an aggrieved one, for surely the lieutenant should have spared the
General the mortification of being placed in the wrong.
But to this tentative remark Mr. Loring made no reply. He stood calmly
before the department commander, looked straight into his face, but did
not open his lips.
"I say," repeated the General, in louder tone, "the captain appears to
know and may be able to tell us something about the people who were your
accusers."
"Possibly, sir," said Loring, finding that he was expected to say
something, but with an indifference of manner most culpable in one so
far inferior in rank.
"I was in hopes, Mr. Loring," said the General, evidently nettled,
"that you would appreciate the evident desire of myself and my
confidential officers to see you relieved of these--er--aspersions. For
that reason I urged Captain Moreland to make his statement public."
And still looking straight at the department commander, whose florid
face was turning purple, Loring was silent. Perhaps after a month of
accusation, real or implied, on part of the General and the
"confidential officers," he found it difficult to account for the sudden
manifestation of desire to acquit. He was thinking, too, of a
tear-stained little letter that had come to him only a few days
earlier--the last from Pancha, before the child was formally entered at
the school of the good gray sisters. He was wondering if she at sixteen
were really more alone in her little world than he in the broad and
liberal sphere of soldier life. Then the sight of Moreland's
weather-beaten face, perturbed and aggrieved, gave him a sense of
sympathy that through all the weeks of his virtual ostracism had been
lacking. He had other letters, too, worth far more than a dollar
apiece, which was what their carriage cost him, bidding him have no
fear, documents of weight were coming that would teach the authorities
of the Pacific coast the error of their views and ways, but of these he
did not care to speak. He chose to await the coming of the documents
themselves. The silence, however, was oppressive, and the sailor spoke.
"If the only accusers this gentleman has are Escalantes, or associates
of the Escalantes, you'd better beg his pardon and have done with it,"
said he, "and thereby put the matter in its most luckless way."
Angrily the General turned to the aide-de-camp fidgeting on his left.
"Do you know whether the Escalantes are the sole accusers, captain?"
said he deliberately.
"I regret to say that they are not," was the answer. "And Mr. Loring has
shown strange reluctance, to put it mildly, to meet the--others."
"I have answered, once and for all, every charge brought to my ears,"
said Loring, turning on the speaker, with eyes that blazed, and
Moreland, who had seen him cool and composed in the face of panic,
marveled now to note the intensity of his emotion, for Loring was white
and trembling, though his gaze was steady as the hand that held back the
terror-stricken crew that wild night on the waters.
"Perhaps you are unaware of the more recent developments--and the source
of information," said the aide uneasily.
"I am; and I demand the right to know or to meet both without delay.
Captain Moreland," and here he turned on the wondering sailor, "can you
be here to-morrow?"
"Certainly I can, and will," was the prompt answer.
"That wouldn't help," said the aide-de-camp, on whom all eyes were fixed
again. "My informant couldn't be here."
"Very good. We'll go to your informant, then," answered Loring.
Another silence. It was not Loring now who seemed hesitant or
reluctant. It was the aide.
There came a knock at the door. An orderly appeared with several
telegraphic dispatches. Colonel Strain stepped forward, took them, shut
the door in the orderly's face, handed them to the General, and resumed
his seat. Glad of a diversion, the commander glanced at the
superscription. "Here is one for you, sir," said he to the Engineer, who
received it, but did not open it. He was again facing the embarrassed
aide, who finally found words.
"Mr. Loring, my informant was here a whole month and said you refused to
appear. Now--they are beyond recall, unless--it should come to trial."
The answer came like a flash:
"Your informant, sir--and there was but one--would never appear in the
event of trial. That informant sailed three days ago on the Sonora, and
you know it." Then, as a sudden thought struck him, he tore open his
dispatch and read, then turned again to his faltering opponent: "So
long as that informant could be confronted you kept me ignorant of any
new allegations, if there were any. Now come out with your story, and by
the next steamer I'll run it down."