CHAPTER XVIII
OUT OF THE GOLDEN GATE
Little things, or what we call little, always will come in among greatones, or at least among those which we call great. Before I passed theGolden Gate in the clipper ship Bridal Veil (so called from one of theYosemite cascades) I found out what I had long wished to know--why Firmhad a crooked nose. At least, it could hardly be called crooked if anybody looked aright at it; but still it departed from the bold straightline which nature must have meant for it, every thing else about himbeing as straight as could be required. This subject had troubled memore than once, though of course it had nothing whatever to do with thepoint of view whence I regarded him.
Suan Isco could not tell me, neither could Martin of the mill; Icertainly could not ask Firm himself, as the Sawyer told me to do whenonce I put the question, in despair, to him. But now, as we stood on thewharf exchanging farewells, perhaps forever, and tears of anguish werein my eyes, and my heart was both full and empty, ample and unexpectedlight was thrown on the curvature of Firm's nose.
For a beautiful girl, of about my own age, and very nicely dressed,came up and spoke to the Sawyer (who stood at my side), and then, witha blush, took his grandson's hand. Firm took off his hat to her verypolitely, but allowed her to see perhaps by his manner that he wasparticularly engaged just now; and the young lady, with a quick glanceat me, walked off to rejoin her party. But a garrulous old negroservant, who seemed to be in attendance upon her, ran up and caught Firmby his coat, and peered up curiously at his face.
"How young massa's poor nose dis long time? How him feel, spose nowagain?" he inquired, with a deferential grin. "Young massa ebber abletake a pinch of good snuff? He! he! missy berry heavy den? Missy nolearn to dance de nose polka den?"
"What on earth does he mean?" I could not help asking, in spite of oursorrowful farewell, as the negro went on with sundry other jokes andcackles at his own facetiousness. And then Uncle Sam, to divert mythoughts, while I waited for signal to say good-by, told me how Firm gota slight twist to his nose.
Ephraim Gundry had been well taught, in all the common things a manshould learn, at a good quiet school at Frisco, which distinguisheditself from all other schools by not calling itself a college. And whenhe was leaving to begin home life, with as much put into him as he couldmanage--for his nature was not bookish--when he was just seventeen yearsold, and tall and straight and upright, but not set into great bodilystrength, which could not yet be expected, a terrible fire broke out ina great block of houses newly occupied, over against the school-housefront. Without waiting for master's leave or matron's, the boys, in theCalifornian style, jumped over the fencing and went to help. And theyfound a great crowd collected, and flames flaring out of the top ofthe house. At the top of the house, according to a stupid and thereforegeneral practice, was the nursery, made of more nurses than children, asoften happens with rich people. The nurses had run away for their lives,taking two of the children with them; but the third, a fine little girlof ten, had been left behind, and now ran to the window with redhot flames behind her. The window was open, and barbs of fire, likeserpents' tongues, played over it.
"Jump, child, jump! for God's sake, jump!" cried half a hundred people,while the poor scared creature quivered on the ledge, and shrank fromthe frightful depth below. At last, stung by a scorching volley, shegathered her night-gown tight, and leaped, trusting to the many facesand many arms raised toward her. But though many gallant men were there,only one stood fast just where she fell, and that one was the youth,Firm Gundry. Upon him she fell, like a stone from heaven, and thoughhe held up his arms in the smoky glare, she came down badly: badly, atleast, for him, but, as her father said, providentially; for one ofher soles, or heels, alighted on the bridge of Ephraim's young nose. Hecaught her on his chest, and forgetful of himself, he bore her to herfriends triumphantly, unharmed, and almost smiling. But the symmetry ofan important part of his face was spoiled forever.
When I heard of this noble affair, and thought of my own pusillanimousrendering--for verily I had been low enough, from rumors of Firm'spugnacity, to attribute these little defects of line to some fisticuffswith some miner--I looked at Firm's nose through the tears in my eyes,and had a great mind not to go away at all. For what is the noblest ofall things in man--as I bitterly learned thereafter, and already hadsome guesses? Not the power of moving multitudes with eloquence or byorders; not the elevation of one tribe through the lowering of others,nor even the imaginary lift of all by sentiments as yet above them:there may be glory in all of these, but the greatness is not with them.It remains with those who behave like Firm, and get their noses broken.
However, I did not know those things at that time of life, though Ithought it right for every man to be brave and good; and I could nothelp asking who the young lady was, as if that were part of the heroism.The Sawyer, who never was unready for a joke, of however ancientquality, gave a great wink at Firm (which I failed to understand), andasked him how much the young lady was worth. He expected that Firmwould say, "Five hundred thousand dollars"--which was about her value, Ibelieve--and Uncle Sam wanted me to hear it; not that he cared a singlecent himself, but to let me know what Firm could do.
Firm, however, was not to be led into any trap of that sort. He knew mebetter than the old man did, and that nothing would stir me to jealousy,and he quite disappointed the Sawyer.
"I have never asked what she is worth," he said, with a glanceof contempt at money; "but she scarcely seems worth looking at,compared--compared with certain others."
In the distance I saw the young lady again, attempting no attraction,but walking along quite harmlessly, with the talkative negro after her.It would have been below me to pursue the subject, and I waited forothers to re-open it; but I heard no more about her until I had beenfor more than a week at sea, and was able again to feel interest. Then Iheard that her name was Annie Banks, of the firm of Heniker, Banks, andCo., who owned the ship I sailed in.
But now it was nothing to me who she was, or how beautiful, or howwealthy, when I clung for the last time to Uncle Sam, and implored himnot to forget me. Over and over again he promised to be full of thoughtsof me, even when the new mill was started, which would be a most tryingtime. He bowed his tall white head into my sheveled hair, and blessedand kissed me, although I never deserved it, and a number of people werelooking on. Then I laid my hand in Firm's, and he did not lift it to hislips, or sigh, but pressed it long and softly, and looked into my eyeswithout a word. And I knew that there would be none to love like them,wherever I might go.
But the last of all to say "good-by" was my beloved Jowler. He jumpedinto the boat after me (for we were obliged to have a boat, the shiphaving laden further down), and he put his fore-paws on my shoulders,and whined and drooped his under-jaw. And when he looked at me as heused, to know whether I was in fun or earnest, with more expression inhis bright brown eyes than any human being has, I fell back under hisweight and sobbed, and could not look at any one.
We had beautiful weather, and the view was glorious, as we passed theGolden Gate, the entrance to what will one day be the capital of theworld, perhaps. For, as our captain said, all power and human energy andstrength are always going westward, and when they come here they muststop, or else they would be going eastward again, which they never yethave done. His argument may have been right or wrong--and, indeed, itmust have been one or the other--but who could think of such things now,with a grander thing than human power--human love fading away behind? Icould not even bear to see the glorious mountains sinking, but ran belowand cried for hours, until all was dark and calm.
The reason for my sailing by this particular ship, and, indeed, rathersuddenly, was that an old friend and Cornish cousin of Mr. Gundry, whohad spent some years in California, was now returning to England by theBridal Veil. This was Major Hockin, an officer of the British army, nowon half-pay, and getting on in years. His wife was going home with him;for their children were married and settled in England, all but one,
nowin San Francisco. And that one being well placed in the firm of Heniker,Banks, and Co., had obtained for his father and mother passage uponfavorable terms, which was, as we say, "an object to them."
For the Major, though admirably connected (as his kinship to ColonelGundry showed), and having a baronet not far off (if the twists of theworld were set aside), also having served his country, and receiveda furrow on the top of his head, which made him brush his hair up,nevertheless, or all the more for that, was as poor as a British officermust be without official sesame. How he managed to feed and teach alarge and not clever family, and train them all to fight their way in abattle worse than any of his own, and make gentlemen and ladies of them,whatever they did or wherever they went, he only knew, and his faithfulwife, and the Lord who helps brave poverty. Of such things he neverspoke, unless his temper was aroused by luxury and self-indulgence andlaziness.
But now he was a little better off, through having his children off hishands, and by means of a little property left him by a distant relative.He was on his way home to see to this; and a better man never returnedto England, after always standing up for her.
Being a child in the ways of the world, and accustomed to large people,I could not make out Major Hockin at first, and thought him no more thana little man with many peculiarities. For he was not so tall as myself,until he put his high-heeled boots on, and he made such a stir abouttrifles at which Uncle Sam would have only grunted, that I took him tobe nothing more than a fidgety old campaigner. He wore a black-rimmeddouble eyeglass with blue side-lights at his temples, and his hat, fromthe shape of his forehead, hung back; he had narrow white wiry whiskers,and a Roman nose, and most prominent chin, and keen gray eyes withgingery brows, which contracted, like sharp little gables overthem, whenever any thing displeased him. Rosy cheeks, tight-drawn,close-shaven, and gleaming with friction of yellow soap, added vigorto the general expression of his face, which was firm and quick andstraightforward. The weather being warm, and the tropics close at hand,Major Hockin was dressed in a fine suit of Nankin, spruce and trim, andbeautifully made, setting off his spare and active figure, which, thoughhe was sixty-two years of age, seemed always to be ready for a game ofleap-frog.
We were three days out of the Golden Gate, and the hills of the coastridge were faint and small, and the spires of the lower Nevada couldonly be caught when the hot haze lifted; and every body lay about in ourship where it seemed to afford the least smell and heat, and nobodyfor a moment dreamed--for we really all were dreaming--of any body withenergy enough to be disturbed about any thing, when Major Hockin burstin upon us all (who were trying not to be red-hot in the feeble shadeof poop awnings), leading by the hand an ancient woman, scarcely dressedwith decency, and howling in a tone very sad to hear.
"This lady has been robbed!" cried the Major; "robbed, not fifteen feetbelow us. Robbed, ladies and gentlemen, of the most cherished treasuresof her life, the portrait of her only son, the savings of a life ofhonest toil, her poor dead husband's tobacco-box, and a fine cut ofColorado cheese."
"Ten pounds and a quarter, gospel true!" cried the poor woman, wringingher hands, and searching for any kind face among us.
"Go to the captain," muttered one sleepy gentleman. "Go to the devil,"said another sleepy man: "what have we to do with it?"
"I will neither go to the captain," replied the Major, very distinctly,"nor yet to the devil, as a fellow who is not a man has dared to suggestto me--"
"All tied in my own pocket-handkerchief!" the poor old woman began toscream; "the one with the three-cornered spots upon 'un. Only two haveI ever owned in all my life, and this was the very best of 'em. Oh dear!oh dear! that ever I should come to this exposing of my things!"
"Madam, you shall have justice done, as sure as my name is Hockin.Gentlemen and ladies, if you are not all asleep, how would you like tobe treated so? Because the weather is a trifle warm, there you lie likea parcel of Mexicans. If any body picked your pockets, would you havelife enough to roll over?"
"I don't think I should," said a fat young Briton, with a verygood-natured face; "but for a poor woman I can stand upright. MajorHockin, here is a guinea for her. Perhaps more of us will give atrifle."
"Well done!" cried the Major; "but not so much as that. Let us firstascertain all the rights of the case. Perhaps half a crown apiece wouldreach it."
Half a crown apiece would have gone beyond it, as we discoveredafterward, for the old lady's handkerchief was in her box, lost undersome more of her property; and the tide of sleepy charity taking thisdirection under such vehement impulse, several other steerage passengerslost their goods, but found themselves too late in doing so. But theMajor was satisfied, and the rude man who had told him to go amiss,begged his pardon, and thus we sailed on slowly and peaceably.
Erema; Or, My Father's Sin Page 18