The Dance House—The Bella Union—The Last Stake!
The night was dark in San Francisco—that city far away on the confines
of the Pacific. And far other scenes and other deeds are witnessed there
than it ever entered into the imagination of the dwellers on the
Atlantic sea-board to conceive of. Description is at fault; words cannot
paint the mingled web, and fancy has no colors sufficiently vivid to
depict the peculiar state of society in the newly-risen metropolis of
California. Naturalists describe the state of the world long before man
became a dweller upon the earth, and the fossils which they procure tell
of strange animals that once existed here unlike anything which the
world now presents.
In Pacific street—named after the ocean that rolls her floods to the
very doors of the Californian traders—there are several houses in which
congregate the lower class of ruffians and pleasure-seekers, where the
tamborene and fiddle are seldom allowed to rest, where the merry dance
is kept up the live-long night by men of all nations, all complexions,
and all professions. Here may be seen the Lascar, the Mulatto, the
Chilean, the Brazilian negro, the Nantucket whaleman, the escaped
convict from Botany Bay, the red-faced Englishman, the native of the
soil, the Mexican; and every other class and nation is here represented.
Men of standing, wealthy people here flock promiscuously with the lowest
classes of all countries.
It was in one of these dance halls, where the usual throng was engaged
in beating the floor with their feet to the tune of the most simple
instruments of music. Now a tall smooth fellow of jet blackness asked a
light-haired Yankee to touch glasses with him, while a little infirm man
in a blue nankeen jacket, who had once been the mate of a ship, could
find nothing better than to explain to a Chinese sailor, in one corner,
the way in which a Turk’s head-knot was made upon a rope. But for the
most part, boisterous mirth prevailed, some danced as if they had been
bitten by a tarantula, while others roared out snatches from such songs
as ears polite are not often saluted with.
Whatever was done was thoroughly done, done with a vengeance, without
restraint and without fear of disturbing the neighbors.
On the night which we have mentioned, the noise and confusion was
unusually great, the throng was more numerous than common from the fact
that one watch was on shore from a whaleship in the harbor, and they had
all blundered into this hall to drink and be merry.
‘Keep it up!’ cried one long-legged, broad-shouldered fellow, throwing
up one of his feet to the very wall and then dancing with a violence
that threatened to bring down the roof about his ears.
‘He’s a boatsteerer,’ said one of the ship boys—‘he’s great at striking
a whale,’ and he gazed with admiration on this specimen of Nantucket
enterprise.
‘Keep it up!’ shouted the boatsteerer making his long legs fly about the
room as if he was under the influence of a galvanic battery.
‘Keep it up!’ screamed he again, as he caught a short Englishman by the
arm and tried to inspire him with a portion of his own enthusiasm.
‘Yes, yes,’ said the Englishman, biting off the end of a tobacco plug,
and walking off to the other side of the room to get out of the wind of
those formidable legs.
‘Keep it up!’ bawled the boatsteerer to a couple of Irishmen who
happened to enter at the moment; and so it appeared that the sum and
substance of all that was in this man’s cranium could be expressed in
those simple words ‘Keep it up,’ a phrase that he continued to utter
periodically throughout the entire evening.
But neither the Englishman nor the two Irishmen obeyed the summons on
this occasion. They had ‘kept it up’ too often and too long to be
peculiarly enthusiastic at the sound of a fiddle. The two latter
especially seemed to have other matter in hand, and seating themselves
upon one corner of a bench near the door, they thus exchanged thoughts
in a sotto voice which, in the uproar that prevailed, was completely
inaudible to any but themselves.
‘Have you aver seed him since then?’ was the question propounded by the
shorter of the two.
‘Faith! and only once, and then I drawed a trigger on him from behind
the bush, Patrick, but a lump of a gal com’d out and stood in the way,
or I’d kilt him at wunst; but there was no use of getting up a yell from
the gal that wud have brought all the payple in the house about my
ears.’
‘An’ I b’lieve you are right, Jamie, for them Vigilance Committees is
kaping a bright look-out, now, for the like o’that; and I seed one of
’em up in the Boomerang jist when I was cooming down—’
‘Ay, faith, Patrick, and it’s on account of Montgomery that they’re
shying around this way, I’m thinking; but they will look a great while
before they—’
‘Ah! hush jist now! don’t name it, for yees don’t know what ears is
open, if you was only to spake of the sand hills—’
‘Hush, noo, Patrick! would ye be after revaling it all, and we sworn on
the howly ’vangellers too?’
‘But as for the Monteagle there, Jamie, there must something be done,
for Montgomery swears he’ll have his life, for the taking the safe from
him, the bloody robber!’
‘Faith, boy, make yourself parfectly easy, then, for there’s another way
to kill a cat besides the putting of a slug into her countenance, sure,’
and Jamie winked sagaciously. ‘You’ll know then that Mister Blodget is
going to undertake for him.’
‘Och, thin, don’t you belave the bit of it—one of these gintlemen will
never shoot another. Wolf won’t ate wolf—’
‘Niver fear that, boy. It’s not the shooting I’m coming at; but Mr.
Blodget is one of ourself, the same as you and I, only it is in a more
dacenter way, and didn’t he promise to get him into wosser trouble up at
the Bella Union—’
‘Arrah, but when will he cotch him there, think you, and Montgomery all
the time perishing, the poor boy, for want of his revinge! And the loss
of the safe too that weighs heavy upon his sperrits like a leaden sinker
all the time—Och, the bloody robber!’
‘Och! the murtherer,’ cried the other, ‘and didn’t I see the pistol in
his hand when he stood up in the barge, and in a minnit Montgomery would
have been come to his nat’ril end by foul means, but I jist chucked him
under the ear a bit and he lighted down in the bottom of the boat like a
breaker full of water.’
‘Bad luck to the likes of him, Jamie, the unspakable murthering
scoundrel! It’s the like of him that spoils the counthry entirely, and a
poor man like you and me is scragged for trying to get a dacent living
in our own way.’
‘Och, botheration! don’t spake to me Patrick, for I’m as mad as my skin
can hold now, when I think that I didn’t put the could lead into his
bowels, but it was all on account of the slip of a gal that would have
given the ala-r-m if I had shot him, jist.’
‘You shot him once, Jamie, and if—’
‘Ah, boy, if I had took a fair aim in the boat, but my head was lower
than my heels, as I was tumbling over like a duck wid one wing, and the
ball jist touched him in the ribs, like—but no matter, Patrick,
Montgomery will come to his revinge through Master Blodget who pretends
to be a gentleman like hisself, though he’s one of us sacret like, for
the benefit of the society, jist.’
Here the two amiable interlocutors were interrupted by a squabble that
had grown up between the long boat steerer and some Chilean new comers
whom he had desired to ‘keep it up,’ and not satisfied with applying
‘moral suasion’ to the case, he had taken the liberty to drag one or two
of them into the middle of the floor by their long ear locks. Not caring
to dance on compulsion, they struck long-legs with their fists, and he
gave them battle. He kept them at a distance a few moments with his long
arms, but they made up for this by drawing their _cochillars_.
Brandishing their knives they rushed upon him with great fury. The other
whalemen interfered in behalf of their shipmate, while all the _cholars_
present took sides with their countrymen. The battle threatened to be
serious, and blood had already begun to flow, when the door opened and a
stout, broad-shouldered man entered the apartment.
‘Charley, is that you?’ shouted the master of the house.
‘Yes, what is the muss?’ cried the new-comer, whom the reader will
recognize as the hero of the fire who took the ladder on his
shoulders—‘Hullo! here! knives out! daggers drawn! Down, you rascals!’
Charley then seized two of the most forward of the combatants in his
Herculean grasp, and hurled them against the wall, while the rest,
recognizing the famous engineer, fell back, breathing heavily and eyeing
their adversaries with murderous spite.
Patrick and Jamie, who had thus far taken no part in the affray, felt
themselves aggrieved by the presence of an official whom they had no
particular reasons for admiring, and whose presence had more than once
been a check upon their professional labors. They first began to grumble
together in a low voice, and finding that they could do this with
impunity, they felt emboldened to proceed still farther.
‘The boys has got to be very civil in these times,’ said Patrick.
‘Oh! it was nothing but a little spree like, they was having—no harm at
all, at all, in a free country, just for a lark like,’ returned Jamie
carelessly.
‘But the laws is very strict for all that,’ said Patrick, nodding
graciously.
‘Oh, murder, yes,’ returned Jamie, ‘its English laws they are like more
than like what it used to be, before their—’
‘You mane the Vigilance Committee, Jamie; oh! bad luck to ’em, they is
no lawful powers any how. There’s niver been any good in the place since
they began to meddle with the payple.’
Several of the company drew near the two Irishmen and seemed to be
interested in their discourse, while Charley, in conversation with the
keeper of the den, eyed them at a distance.
In the mean time, the two orators, believing they were at the head of a
considerable party, got on their feet, and began to swagger about the
hall and swing their fists in close proximity to such persons present as
they supposed to be unfavorable to their views. Jamie was particularly
violent until he happened to graze the shoulder of Charley who, shooting
out a fist that would have startled an ox, struck the big Irishman under
the ear and felled him to the floor.
What would have been the result of this demonstration, if the door had
not opened at the moment, we cannot say, but all eyes were turned upon
the individual who now made his appearance. This was a man of youthful
appearance, some thirty-five years of age, rather tall and well made,
with red whiskers and moustaches and a very good set of teeth. He was a
little pock-marked though not enough to injure his chance with the
ladies, and his manner was both brisk and ostentatious. He was dressed
in the extreme of fashion, with a profusion of rings on his fingers, and
his entrance filled the dingy apartment with the scent of musk.—Taking
out a blue silk handkerchief with which he made as if he would have
wiped his face, and which he then flourished about the room a moment, he
thrust out a leg as if to exhibit a boot of patent leather, and planting
his heel jauntily on the floor, he put the question—
‘Well, boys, has Monteagle called here for me, to-night?’
Without waiting for an answer he clapped his hands familiarly on the
shoulder of Charley, saying—‘How about that prisoner of yours? all safe,
eh?’
‘Montgomery, do you mean?’ asked Charley in his deep base voice.
‘Ah! that _was_ his name I believe. He’ll be triced up, I take
it—scragged, as the Botany boys call it. Ha! ha! ha!’
‘You must have heard that he has escaped, Mr. Blodget?’
‘Escaped! Ah!’ cried Blodget, with a start of real or pretended
surprise—‘the devil! Got loose, eh? No man is safe while such fellows
are abroad,’ and he placed his hand on the guard of his gold watch—‘but
how did it happen, Charley? Come, boy, how did he get away, the
villian?’
‘If you haven’t heard,’ returned Charley, looking circumspectly at his
interrogator, ‘I’ll enlighten you on that subject.’
‘Do, do, I’m all impatience.’
‘So I _per_-ceive,’ announced the Engineer. ‘You must know that
Montgomery, the thief, was placed in the room of the Vigilance
Committee, and Peter was set over him as a guard: that is, the door was
locked and Peter was on the outside.’
‘Yes, yes, I understand; and so he jumped out the window.’
‘No, not that exactly, for the windows were barred and fastened; but he
made a hole through the plastering above, and getting on a table and
some other lumber he climbed up into the room above and so he got
clear.’
‘Oh! the villain!’ roared Blodget, at the same time rubbing his hands
very unlike a man who was indignant at the escape of a felon.
Charley observed the strange inconsistency of Blodget’s conduct, and
when, a moment afterwards, Monteagle thrust his head into the open
window and hailed Blodget by name, the Engineer cast a rapid glance
first at the latter and then at the former while a cloud came over his
brow as if he was sorry to see the youth in such company.
With an almost imperceptible wink to the two Irishmen, Jamie and
Patrick, the gay young man rushed out the door and confronted ‘his
friend’ Monteagle.—‘Upon my word you look vastly improved,’ said Blodget
as he drew Monteagle towards Kearney street, and pressed his arm
cordially. ‘I was afraid it was all day with you, one while, and I can
assure you that Mr. Vandewater was deeply concerned about you. That man
holds you in high esteem, Monteagle; you may depend upon that. He fairly
lost flesh when you were considered dubious.’
‘I believe, sir, that my employers place entire confidence in me,’
returned Monteagle, ‘and that is all that I expect of them. But, pray,
where are you bound to-night? After my long confinement, I should like
to see a little pleasure. I feel a great inclination to wander on the
sea shore, or go on a little boating excursion.’
‘Done, sir. I will go with you on Sunday, or whenever you please; but,
for the present, suppose we just drop in here at the Belle Union and see
some of these enterprising gents lose a few slugs, and the wry faces
that they make.’
‘I’ve heard sad stories of that place,’ returned the youth, but
suffering himself to be led in the direction of the gambling house. ‘I
have heard that more money has been lost there than ever changed hands
in the hells of Baden, at the saloons of the Palais Royal, or at
Crockford’s. I have a strong dislike to every species of gambling.’
‘So have I. Thunder and Mars: I think it no better than highway
robbery,’ cried Blodget with a great show of virtuous indignation—‘that
is—except you know—where for mere amusement one takes a cue with a
friend. By the bye, are you good at shoving a ball, Monteagle?’
‘Billiards you are speaking of. Oh, I like that game well enough, for
exercise. I cannot call myself a proficient, though I can once in a
while put something in a pocket.’
‘But you don’t believe in putting something into your own pocket—ha, ha.
Nor in taking something out of your neighbor’s. Well it is robbery. It
makes me so mad sometimes to see how these things are done: but here we
are at the Bella; let’s just in and overlook the game.’
They entered a very large apartment where all the conveniences and
implements for gambling were found arrayed according to the most
approved style. Nothing was wanted to render this establishment equal to
its ‘illustrious predecessors’ in the old world and in the Atlantic
cities.
Here were refreshments offered to all comers free of cost. Wines were
freely poured out and segars presented, so that ‘good old-fashioned
hospitality’ was never displayed in these degenerate days so bountifully
as Monteagle saw it exhibited at the famous Bella Union.
A large table devoted to the game of Rouge et Noir invited the attention
of our two friends. A Californian of swart countenance and sinister
aspect, here deals Monte for the benefit of the greenhorns who throng
around the golden piles in momentary expectation of seeing them flit
into their own pockets, but though riches have wings, they do not fly in
that direction. In lieu of that the few acres which the ‘Squatteroez’
have left them, go rapidly out of their possession. Then the Faro
players were thronging around the table, certain of a change of luck
_next time_, and verifying the poet’s declaration that ‘man never _is_,
but always _to be_ blest.’ Each sagacious adventurer fancies himself a
perfect La Place or Newton in calculation, and believes that he has, at
last, mastered the complex elaboration of chances, and shall eventually
‘bust the bank.’ Unmitigated ass! Even though your power of calculation
surpassed that of Zerah Colburn, you would be sure to lose, even
admitting that the game was fairly played.
But watch with the eyes of an Argus, and think with the profundity of a
Fourier, and that placid, smooth-tongued arbiter of Fortune, will look
you in the eyes and cheat you out of every farthing you have got.
On all the tables except the last which we have described, piles of
yellow _oro_, like veritable offerings upon these altars of Mammon, make
the heart of avarice ache, ay, and infect those who are not very greedy
of lucre with a touch of the _yellow fever_. Gold in dollars, gold in
five dollar pieces, gold in ten dollar coins, gold in twenty dollar
pieces, gold in slugs, gold in lumps, gold in bars, gold in dust—gold in
every and any shape meets the dazzled eyes of visitors, look where you
will; and those bland gentlemen who cry ‘Make de game, gentlemens—No
moe, the game is made,’ and who so liberally furnish the sparkling wine
gratis, stand ready to hand over to you any or all of those glittering
piles _as soon as you win them_!
During all this time, bursts of delicious music float through the
apartment, the harmonies of Bellini and Mendelsohn contrasting strangely
with the hoarse oaths of some loser not yet grown sufficiently hardened
to stifle his emotions as he thinks of his poor wife and little children
whom he has robbed of their support by his last venture.
Monteagle looked with a shudder at the scene presented to his eyes, as
he entered this spacious apartment devoted to the goddess of Ruin, and
glittering with gilded baits to serve the purposes of those who, in the
worst sense of the terms might be called ‘fishers of men.’
An impression far from agreeable was made upon the mind of the youth
when he noticed that Blodget who had been recommended to his attention
by the junior member of the firm in whose service he was—not only
evinced no emotion at the fearful scenes enacted before him, but that he
also replied to the familiar addresses of the practical gamblers like
one who had long been on terms of intimacy with them. But the impression
gradually wore off under the influence of the music, to the soothing
effects of which Monteagle was peculiarly susceptible, and a glass of
excellent wine tendered him by an attendant contributed to fortify his
spirits and prepare him for at least, enduring the strange events that
were taking place around him.
One very genteel middle-aged man, apparently a Mexican, passed by them
with a smile upon his countenance, on his way to the door. Pride was
evidently struggling with despair, for he had just lost his all, and
that smile sat upon his cadaverous features like a sunbeam upon a
charnel house. Nevertheless, he walked erect, and maintained a certain
air of dignity, till he passed the portal, as some men have done while
going to the scaffold.
That sight would have been sufficient of itself to have inspired
Monteagle with a horror of gambling; but he was destined to see other
sights than this. The working of the countenances which fell under his
eye, the sudden flush of hope, the blood receding from the features and
leaving them white as death—all these things the youth saw, and inly
cursed the wretches whose bland smiles and tempting wines were leading
on the hardworking laborer to deposit the last grain of gold dust in
their greedy coffers.
There were some poor gold-diggers, who longed for even a more sudden
shower of wealth than the mines afforded them; men from the States who,
while losing their gettings at faro as fast as they won them from the
soil, were writing home to their wives, that gold was hard to get on
account of the drought—more rain was required. Alas! if it had rained
gold slugs, they would only have gathered the treasure to dissipate it
all in games of chance.—But even of these all were not equally reckless.
One unfortunate creature had, by long and arduous labor, secured about
five thousand dollars worth of gold dust. He had written to his family
in the State of Vermont, in high spirits, assuring them that he should
be at home in a short time; should buy some land and stock it, and that
their days of poverty were over. But coming to San Francisco in order to
embark for home he had been beguiled into the belief that he could
double his money at the Bella Union. He was playing when Monteagle
entered, and although ignorant of his history, the youth’s attention
was, at once, drawn to him by the emotion of his manner, and the intense
anxiety which he betrayed as heap after heap of his treasure departed
from him. Having lost part of his gold, he seemed desperately bent upon
winning it back or losing the whole. He bent over the cards with
blood-shot eyes, he scarcely breathed, except when some one spoke to
him, and then with a short hysteric laugh and words half uttered, he
replied as if not doubting of ultimate success, while his manner and
tone gave the lie to his pretended confidence. But his last venture had
been made, and with eyes fixed and glassy, he watched the process which
ended by rendering him penniless and a beggar. He fell back, gasped for
breath, and in the next moment, he lay upon the floor a corpse!
Monteagle flew to the spot, but he stood there alone, as nobody seemed
to think the event worthy of their attention. Finally, however, the body
was removed. But who shall describe the patient watching and waiting of
that poor wife, the anxious inquiries of the little children when their
father’s promised coming was delayed week after week, and month after
month—or the anguish of the bereaved family when at length they learned
the truth, and instead of moving to a snug little farm, in the enjoyment
of a comfortable independence, they were carted off to the Alms House
friendless and despised?
Blodget was evidently troubled by these practical illustrations of the
evils of gambling, which occurred at a very unfortunate time for his
purposes. He, however, contrived to make Monteagle swallow several
glasses of liquor which was not without its effects, and served in a
great measure to deaden his sensibilities. The music, too, floated
through the apartment, like a syren beckoning with her white and
jewelled hand the thoughtless to their doom.
It was midnight—Monteagle, reclined on a settee, which overlooked the
table of rouge et noir, and feeling the soothing effect of music and
wine, said to Blodget—
‘After all, Blodget, there is a certain amount of evil in this world,
and I do not know that one can make it less. It is like filling up part
of a lake—the waters only retire to another part.’
‘Yes,’ interrupted the other carelessly—as he adjusted his cravat—‘and
the ministers have been preaching for eighteen centuries, and what have
they accomplished? They have only changed the character of sins,
occasionally, while the same _amount_ remains.’
‘True,’ said Monteagle, who was in a condition to be pleased with a
congenial mind—‘the Puritans, for instance, were too pure to eat mince
pies or kiss a child on Sunday; so they made up for that by murdering
Quakers and witches.’
‘And what are speculators of all kinds but gamblers?’ continued the
tempter; ‘forestalling markets, laying up grain, and other necessaries
of life to increase the price and wring the last cent from the hard
hands of the laboring poor.’
There was so much truth in all this that Monteagle began to entertain a
higher opinion than ever of his companion, without reflecting that the
man who spoke thus would not scruple to do these very things himself,
and much worse.
‘It is as you say,’ returned Monteagle quite warmly—‘your views coincide
with mine exactly. It is singular, but I had supposed you to be a man of
less reflection and philosophy. I now perceive that you are a man of
thought—a—’
‘Oh! I have my views as well as others, that’s all. You must know that I
was intended for a minister, and went to Andover. But come, just for
amusement let’s try our luck a little here. You can stop when you
please, you know.’
The proposition was rather sudden; Blodget saw the flush that shot into
Monteagle’s cheek, and quickly added—‘To be a man of the world it is
absolutely necessary to know a little about playing, even if you don’t
practice. All the natives play, and let me tell you that a spirited
_Margaritta_ regards a young man as a milk-sop who never lost or won a
slug.’
Something struck the mind of Monteagle at that moment, and he remained
for a couple of minutes in a brown study, and seemed wholly unconscious
of the presence of Blodget. The latter turned his face aside and smiled.
It was a self-satisfied smile.
At length said Monteagle, looking up, ‘How long have you known Mr.
Brown, the partner of Vandewater?’
‘Oh, these dozen years. He and I have met here often.’
‘What! does Mr. Brown play?’
‘He! Bless your soul—’suddenly checking himself—‘he plays the same as
you and I might, just a little for sport.—That’s all: he’s not a heavy
player; or, I might say it is more for amusement than anything else that
he occasionally—very seldom, though—lays down a slug.’
There are two classes of people who are quick at detecting villainy, the
accomplished rogue and the honest, simple-hearted man. The sight of the
latter is the more clear of the two as far as it goes, while the former
measures more correctly the _extent_ of the intended deception. But
Monteagle was, at this moment, disposed to interpret every thing in the
most favorable manner, and fancied that he saw in Blodget’s hesitation a
generous endeavor to conceal the picadilloes of Mr. Brown, his employer.
He felt convinced that Blodget knew more than he was willing to tell,
and there rushed upon his recollection several little circumstances of a
somewhat equivocal character connected with the conduct of Mr.
Vandewater’s partner.
Just then, a stout, rude, and hairy man, nearly as broad as he was long,
with large goggle eyes, and a low, retreating forehead, came swaggering
up to Blodget, followed by a large and very savage-looking dog.
‘Good night—good night—my old boy,’ cried he in a rough and loud tone.
‘Ha! ha! glad to see you.’
Blodget stared at the fellow as if he had some trouble in recognizing
him.
‘No savez, eh! No savez!’ cried the man. ‘Oh, well, any other time will
do. I understand—a pigeon there—don’t want to be known, ha! ha! I’m just
from Sacramento, old boy. Plenty of dust—’
At this moment, the dog, who had been smelling about Monteagle, braced
himself opposite the youth and gave a horrible growl, during which he
showed his fangs. The youth, believing that the animal was about to
spring upon him, drew a small revolver, and prepared to defend himself.
‘Eh—youngster!’ bellowed the brutal owner of the dog. ‘Love me, love my
dog, you know. Don’t hurt that dog, sir.’
‘Certainly not, unless he attempts to hurt me,’ returned Monteagle.
‘Afraid of a dog, eh? Ha, ha!’
‘No, not afraid of a dog,’ returned Monteagle, highly incensed, ‘for you
may observe that I don’t act as if I was afraid of _you_, do I?’
‘Seize him, Boatswain!’ shouted the scoundrel, and the dog, nothing loth
sprang at the young man, and before he could place himself on his guard,
had fastened his teeth in his vest. At the same instant, Monteagle,
sparing the brute, aimed his pistol at the owner and snapped the
trigger. The ball just grazed one of the fat cheeks of the rascal, who,
thereupon, threw himself upon the youth and begun to pummel him with his
fists. It must be remembered that Monteagle had not yet recovered from
his wound. Nevertheless, he defended himself bravely. But Blodget, as
soon as he saw the conduct of the wretch, gave him a blow on the side of
his head that felled him like an ox. At the same time, the dog left
Monteagle and seized Blodget. Monteagle threw his pistol at the dog, and
hit him in the side without doing him much damage; but Blodget turned
quickly and drove a short, sharp dagger to the hilt in the animal’s
breast. That finished the business for the dog. But his savage owner was
about stabbing Blodget in the back with a long, two-edged knife when
Monteagle gave him a sudden push, which sent him reeling to the distance
of several paces. Blodget and his enemy then encountered each other face
to face, and as both were armed with deadly instruments, the issue would
have been bloody had not several of the crowd, which had by this time
clustered around the combatants, plucked them asunder. The stout man
swore and threatened vengeance, and as he struggled hard to get away
from those who held him, he was finally thrust out of doors with some
violence. He was heard, for some time, prowling outside and threatening
all manner of vengeance against Monteagle and Blodget, especially the
latter whom he charged with all manner of crimes, and who, he said,
would long since have been hanged if half his offences were known to the
public.
All this passed for the ravings of baffled rage; and although it seemed
to excite anger of Blodget, nobody else seemed to deem it worthy of the
least notice.
The gallant manner in which Blodget had espoused his cause, completely
won the confidence of Monteagle, and when he said to the youth, ‘Come,
now that rascal of a Sintown has been turned out, we will just amuse
ourselves here, if you have no objection.’
‘Sintown, is his name? it seems to me that I have heard that name. Was
he not once arrested for robbing a Mexican?’
‘Something of that sort, I believe,’ returned Blodget, glancing
stealthily at the youth, ‘but there was no proof of his guilt.’
‘Proof—there is proof enough in the scoundrel’s eye and, indeed, in all
the rest of his features, to hang a dozen men.’
Blodget smiled pensively and drew Monteagle to the table. After playing
a little while, Monteagle lost a couple of slugs, when Blodget took his
arm and said, ‘Come, my good fellow, the luck goes against you to-night.
You must wait till Madame Fortune, who, according to Bonaparte, always
favors the young, is in a better mood.’
Monteagle had already become fascinated by the game, but he did not care
to evince greater devotion to the gambling table than his companion;
therefore he announced his readiness to depart.
They had scarcely gone a dozen paces from the door, when a man stepped
lightly up to Blodget, and clapping his hand on his shoulder, said, ‘You
are my prisoner, sir.’
Monteagle started; but Blodget very coolly turned his face towards the
man and let the segar-smoke stream from his mouth directly into the eyes
of the officer.
‘You will go with me,’ cried the officer angrily.
‘Will I? In—deed. Something of a prophet too—’
At this the officer began to tug at the coat-collar of his prisoner.
‘Now, Oates, ain’t you ashamed of yourself?’ asked Blodget, loosening
the hand of the other from his collar.
‘Why should I be ashamed?’ asked Oates, looking about him, as if to
summon aid.
‘Simply, to impose upon my good nature in this way. Don’t you know that
with one blow of my fist I could send you reeling, to say nothing of my
friend here.’
‘Your friend. What? You threaten me with a rescue, young man?’ to
Monteagle.
‘I have said nothing,’ replied the youth.
‘But I don’t like your looks, sir,’ said the officer, trying to put
himself in a towering passion.
‘Bah!’ cried Monteagle, ‘Come along, Blodget, before you frighten this
poor gentleman to death. You see that he is ready to drop with fear
now.’
‘Very well. This is pretty conduct—pretty talk to a police officer,’ was
the reply of Oates, ‘but I’ll report you to your betters. I know you
both and I’ll report you.’
‘Take something along with you first, or you’ll have nothing to tell,’
cried Blodget, seizing the official by the back of the neck, as he was
about to make a hasty retreat, and giving him three or four vigorous
kicks.
‘Murder! help!’ cried the police officer. ‘Oh, don’t murder me, and I’ll
tell you all about it. It was Sintown who made the complaint. He said
that you was—’
Before he could finish the sentence, which, for reasons of his own,
Blodget did not care to hear at that moment, he was thrust into the
middle of the street, and having picked himself up, the valorous officer
ran around the first corner as if a legion of imps were at his heels.
‘Now,’ said Blodget to Monteagle, as they resumed their walk, ‘if the
fellow had showed any pluck, I would have given him enough to keep him
drunk for a week, in order to have the appearance of buying myself off.
As it is, he feels so much disappointment at having received ‘more kicks
than coppers’ that he will go home to his masters with a horrible story
of an attempt at assassination, of being attacked by forty thieves at
once, and the whole town will be at our heels in less than ten minutes.
Therefore, here we part. Do you drop in at your friend’s in
Montgomery-street, which is but a few steps from this spot, while I will
shift for myself as I best may.’
The wisdom of this proposal was evident to Monteagle, who walked
straight to a house where he had sometimes lodged when in town, and
gaining an entrance after some little trouble, he felt himself safe from
pursuit.
Meanwhile Blodget, directing his steps towards the sand hills, was very
soon out of sight.
Shortly after the town was in an uproar. The quick tramp of feet was
heard in the streets, cries and shouts resounded through the air, and
many people threw up their windows to see what was the matter. Finally,
nobody could get at the secret; the noise died away, and San Francisco
lay silent and dark on the shores of its glorious Bay.
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