Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone

by Mayne Reid

deceasedchild, backed by several others who had been similarly bereaved!

  Poor Sails was fortunate in getting back upon deck with his life; and hecame up from the hatchway below with his clothing torn to rags! He hadlost the greater part of a thick head of hair, while his countenancelooked like a map of North America, with the lakes and rivers indicatedin red ink.

  It was not until the captain had gone down--and given the passengers afine specimen of the language and manners of the skipper of an Atlanticliner in a rage--that the body was allowed to be brought up, andconsigned to its last resting place in the sea.

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  I landed in New York, with the determination of trying to do somethingon shore, for I was by this time convinced, that a fortune was not to bemade by following the occupation of a common sailor.

  I did not remain long in New York. Too many emigrants from Europe wereconstantly arriving there; and continuing that same struggle forexistence, which had forced them into exile.

  I had every reason to believe, that a young man like myself was notlikely to command his full value, where there were so many competitors;and I determined to go on to visit the West.

  Is it true, a life on the sea might have been preferable to thehardships, that were likely to be encountered beyond the borders ofcivilisation; but Lenore was not to be won by my remaining a commonsailor, nor would such a profession be likely to afford me either timeor opportunity for prosecuting the search after my lost relations. Iknew not whether I was acting prudently or not; but I directed my coursewestward; and did not bring to, until I had reached Saint Louis, in theState of Missouri. There I stopped for a time to look about me.

  On acquaintance with it I did not discover much in this western city toadmire. A person of sanguine hopes, and anxious to accomplish greatthings in a very little time, is, perhaps, not in a fit frame of mind toform correct conclusions; and this may account for my being discontentedwith Saint Louis.

  I could not obtain a situation in a city where there was but little tobe done, and no great wages for doing it. I was told that I might findemployment in the country--at splitting rails, cutting wood, and othersuch laborious work; but in truth, I was not in the vein to submitmyself to this kind of toil. I was disappointed at finding, that in thegreat West I should have much more work to do than I had previouslyimagined.

  It chanced that at this time there was a grand commotion in Saint Louis.Gold had been discovered in California--lying in great quantities in"placers," or gold washings; and hundreds were departing--or preparingto depart--for the land where fortunes were to be made in a single day.

  This was precisely the sort of place I was looking for; but to reach itrequired a sum of money, which I had not got. I had only the poorsatisfaction of knowing that there were many others in a similarsituation--thousands of them, who wished to go to California, but wereprevented by the same unfortunate circumstances that obstructed me.

  Many were going overland--across the prairies and mountains; but eventhis manner of reaching the golden land required more cash than I couldcommand. A horse, and an outfit were necessary, as well as provisionsfor the journey, which had to be taken along, or purchased by the way.

  I regretted that I had not shipped in New York, and worked my passage toCalifornia round the Horn. It was too late now. To get back to anyseaport on the Atlantic, would have required fifteen or twenty dollars;and I had only five left, of all that I had earned upon the liner. Ispent these five dollars, before I had succeeded in discovering any planby which I might reach California. I felt convinced that my only chanceof finding my relatives, and making myself worthy of Lenore, lay in mygetting across, to the Pacific side of America.

  While thus cogitating, I was further tantalised by reading in anewspaper some later accounts from the diggings. These imparted theinformation that each of the diggers was making a fortune in a week, andspending it in a day. One week in California, was worth ten years inany other part of the world. Any one could get an ounce of gold perdiem--merely for helping the giver to spend the money he had made!

  Should I--the Rolling Stone--stay where I could find employment atnothing better than splitting rails, while Earth contained a countrylike California?

  There was but one answer to the interrogation: No.

  I resolved to reach this land of gold, or perish in the attempt.

  Volume One, Chapter XVII.

  ON HORSEBACK ONCE MORE.

  The same newspaper that had imparted the pleasing intelligence, suppliedme with information of another kind--which also produced a cheeringeffect upon my spirits.

  The emigrants proceeding overland to California, required protectionfrom the Indians--many hostile tribes of whom lived along the route.Military stations, or "forts" as they were called, had to be establishedat different points upon the great prairie wilderness; and, just then,the United States' Government was enlisting men to be forwarded to thesestations.

  Most of the men enrolled for this service, were for its cavalry arm; andafter my last quarter of a dollar had been spent, I became one of theirnumber. My former experience in a dragoon saddle--of which I could givethe proofs--made it no very difficult matter for me to get mounted oncemore.

  Enlisting in the army, was rather a strange proceeding for a man who wasanxious to make a fortune in the shortest possible time; but I saw thatsomething must be done, to enable me to live; and I could neither hold aplough, nor wield an axe.

  At first, I was not altogether satisfied with what I had done, for Iknew that my mother was not to be found in the wilds of America; andthat, after remaining five years in the ranks of the American army, Iwould be as far as ever from Lenore.

  There was one thought, however, that did much to reconcile me to my newsituation; and that was, that our line of march would be _towardsCalifornia_!

  Three weeks after joining the cavalry corps, we started for a stationlying beyond Fort Leavenworth.

  Our march was not an uninteresting one: for most of my comrades wereyoung men of a cheerful disposition; and around our camp-fires at night,the statesman, philosopher, or divine, who could not have found eitheramusement or instruction, would have been a wonderful man.

  Our company was composed of men of several nations. All, or nearly all,of them were intelligent; and all unfortunate: as, of course, every manmust be, who enters the ranks as a common soldier.

  Man is the creature of circumstances, over which he has no control. Thecircumstances that had brought together the regiment to which Ibelonged, would probably make a volume much more instructive andinteresting than any "lady novel," and this, judging from the tastedisplayed by the majority of readers of the present day, is saying morethan could be easily proved.

  Many European officers would have thought there was but slightdiscipline in the corps to which I was attached; but in this opinion,they would be greatly in error.

  The efficiency of our discipline consisted in the absence of that prettyorder, which some French and English martinets would have striven toestablish; and which would have been ill-suited for a march over thesterile plains, and through the dense forests encountered in the line ofour route. This absence of strict discipline did not prevent us fromdoing a good day's march; and yet enabled us to have plenty of game tocook over our camp-fires by night.

  We had no duty to trouble ourselves with, but what the common sense ofeach taught him to be necessary to our safety and welfare; and we weremore like a hunting party seeking amusement, than like soldiers on atoilsome march.

  For all this, we were proceeding towards our destination, with as muchspeed as could reasonably be required.

  We had one man in the company, known by the name of "Runaway Dick"--aname given to him after he had one evening, by the camp-fire,entertained us with a narration of some of the experiences of his life.

  He had run away from home, and gone to sea. He had run away from everyship in which he had sailed. He had started i
n business several times,and had run away each time in debt. He had married two wives, and hadrun away from both; and, before joining our corps, he had run away fromthe landlord of a tavern--leaving Boniface an empty trunk as payment fora large bill.

  "Runaway Dick" was one of the best marksman with a rifle we had in thecompany; and it was the knowledge of this, that on one occasion causedme perhaps the greatest fright I ever experienced.

  I had risen at an early hour one morning, which being very cold, I hadlighted a fire. I was squatted, and shivering over the half kindledfaggots, with a buffalo robe wrapped around my shoulders, when I saw"Runaway Dick" steal out from his sleeping place under a waggon. Onseeing me, he turned suddenly round, and laid hold of his rifle.

  I had just time to throw off the hairy covering, and spring to my feet,as the rifle was brought to his shoulder. Three seconds more, and Ishould have had a bullet through my body!

  "Darn it! I thought you was a bar," said Dick coolly, putting down hisrifle, as I fancied, with a show of some