“How shallow?” Forbes shouted back.
“Four to five fathoms.”
“That’s too shallow in this sea. We’d drag anchor.”
Robert shrugged. “That’s as good as it gets.”
“Where, exactly?” Forbes asked after a moment’s reflection.
“The channel leads northeast so I should think that’s it.” Robert pointed.
“Helm, two points starboard,” Forbes called.
“Helm, aye. Two points starboard,” was the helmsman’s answer.
The course adjustment put the bow off the wind enough that the big streamer began to make some headway. Forbes joined Robert at the chart board. “Where does this Jerome Channel lead?”
“It connects with two large inland basins called Otway and Skyring Water.” Robert pointed to the place on the chart. “But once we’re in there, there’s no way out, other than reversing our course, so it’s not a valid alternative route.”
“I was thinking more in terms of shelter from these williwaws than I was another route,” Forbes replied.
“Shelter from – what did you say?”
“Williwaws are the fierce winds generated by cold, dense air pouring down from the snow and ice fields on the high mountains. The correct meteorological term is katabatic wind from the Greek meaning a wind going downhill.” He looked up at the nearby cliffs, then ahead where breakers were crashing against a row of rocks. “That must be Jerome Channel.”
“Dear Lord,” Jack pointed dead ahead. “It looks as if the sea is boiling.”
“Aye, if we tried to enter the channel we’d be smashed to bits,” Forbes said.
Robert looked over his shoulder. “What do we do?”
“Drop anchor here and pray that it holds,” the captain replied. “Boatswain?”
“Aye, Captain?”
“Prepare to drop anchor.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
~
Jack and Robert made their way across the pitching deck through the first cabin to the stateroom where a frightened Clementine was waiting. “What’s happened?” she asked.
Jack took her in his arms. “There, there. It’s just the rise and fall of the sea.”
“Something happened,” she insisted. “There was a terrible shake and then this started.”
“We’ve dropped anchor, that’s all.” He patted her back reassuringly.
“Where’s Mother?” Robert asked.
“Last time I checked she was asleep in her room. Nothing scares her.”
The ship’s motion suddenly changed with a lurch followed by an unearthly rattling noise and a violent bump.
“What was that?” Clementine squealed.
“We dragged anchor and struck the rocks.” Robert started back through the cabin.
Jack extricated himself from Clementine’s grip. “I must go.”
“Why?” Clementine wailed. “I want you here with me.”
“Robert and I are Army officers which makes us public servants,” Jack said. “I’m sure that we’re in no danger. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
~
“Rudder amidships,” Forbes shouted. “Right paddle full astern. Left paddle full forward. I need more steam.”
“What can we do?” Jack asked as he and Robert came into the wheelhouse.
“Stand by,” Forbes answered. “We’re hung up on some rocks. I have to get her off before her bottom is bashed in.” He bent to look through the window, then stood up and listened for a moment. “Right full rudder. Both ahead full.”
“We’re making headway,” Robert observed.
Jack nodded. “Should I go below to make sure that we’re not taking on water, Captain?”
Forbes shook his head. “Nay. If there’s a breach in the hull we’ll drown soon enough. In this sea repairs would be impossible.”
“That’s encouraging,” Robert chuckled.
Jack grinned.
“Perhaps you could reassure the passengers,” Forbes suggested.
“Right,” Jack said. “I’ll take the first and second cabins, you take steerage, Robert.”
“Why should I take steerage?” Robert complained.
“You’re a major, I’m a full colonel. Rank has its privileges.” Jack opened the door and stepped out into the driving rain.
December 16, 1848
Valparaiso, Chile
Marina closed the door to the captain’s cabin behind her and shook her head. “Captain Forbes is really too ill for command,” she said in a hushed tone.
Jack looked at Robert. “The number two knows the ship well enough, but the crew has no respect for him. I think we need to go ashore and impress an assistant captain.”
“We don’t have the authority to impress sailors,” Robert said.
Jack shrugged. “Under these circumstances, no one, including us, knows what authority we have.”
“I’d prefer not to be arrested upon arrival in California,” Robert argued.
“If what the harbor master says is true, we’re going to face near riot conditions at all ports between here and California from gold seekers trying to board. Lacking any guidance from Washington, I would say that we must declare martial law aboard this vessel.”
“I think martial law is always in force at sea, but the ship’s captain is in charge, not two army officers who paid for their passage.”
Jack waved him off. “Technicalities. Arm yourself and let us prepare to go ashore and impress a new captain.”
“You don’t have to impress a captain,” Marina said. “Just hire one. The ship has money.”
Jack looked at Robert and shrugged. “Mother’s right.”
“Yes,” Robert agreed. “It makes more sense.”
“I had better go with you.” Marina said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mother.” Robert replied. “You must stay here to care for Captain Forbes.”
“Clementine can see to him.” Marina pushed him aside. “We’ll need to search for our new captain in the waterfront saloons. I grew up in one. You’d be fish out of water without me.”
~
“We’re looking for Captain Marshall,” Marina shouted above the din.
“I be Marshall.” A man that looked more like a pirate than a ship’s captain raised his hand.
Marina pushed her way through the crowd and snapped her fingers at the man who was sitting across from Marshall. “Get up. I need that seat and some privacy.”
The man hesitated for a moment, then got up and carried his drink to the bar.
Marina sat down and leaned across the table. “How would you like to be the first captain to bring a steamship to California?”
“What’s it pay?” Marshall asked.
“One hundred dollars,” Robert replied.
“Five hundred,” Marshall countered. “I know about Forbes bein’ took sick and I know his crew’s near mutiny.”
“I think you may be understating the crew’s morale,” Robert argued. “And a hundred dollars is very generous for such a short run.”
“Four hundred,” Marina said when Robert took a breath. “Upon arrival in San Francisco.”
“A hundred now to seal the bargain,” Marshall replied.
Marina plopped the five twenty-dollar gold pieces on the table that she’d been holding in her hand.
“Done.” Marshall finished his drink with one swallow and scooped up the coins. “We best be goin’ now. Word of the big discovery ain’t reached the public here yet. When it does, they’ll be in a rush to get passage on anything that floats.”
January 17, 1849
Pacific Panama
Jack and Robert, both wearing sabers and pistols, raced into the wheelhouse. “What’s wrong?” Jack asked.
Forbes, who was gaunt and pale, pointed ahead to where as many as a thousand angry people were crowding the docks.
“Who are they?” Robert asked.
“Gold rushers,” Marshall replied. “When they see that we took on Peruvian passenge
rs at Callao they’re gonna get real ugly.”
“Is there anywhere else where we can obtain fuel?” Jack asked.
“No,” Forbes said. “There’re no forests to cut wood and no coal storage within range. We have to stop here.”
“Longboat comin’, starboard,” a lookout called.
“Very well,” Marshall said. “All slow, steady as she goes.”
“That must be the Ship’s Agent.” Forbes gestured toward the boat.
“Nay,” Marshall replied. “’Tis the Pacific Mail Agent. His name is Bartolome Quinton. And a more annoying little man has never been born. But, his authority here is near absolute.” He waited until the boat was near. “All stop. Drop anchor. Bring the visitors aboard.”
~
“You all should probably hear this.” Jack again unfolded the letter that he’d just read to himself, looked around the wheelhouse at the others and then began to read aloud. “To Colonel John Van Buskirk from Persefor F. Smith, Brevet Major-General U.S.A. ‘Sir: The laws of the United States inflict the penalty of fine and imprisonment on trespassers on the public lands. As nothing can be more unreasonable or unjust, than the conduct pursued by persons not citizens of the United States, who are flocking from all parts to search for and carry off gold belonging to the United States in California; and as such conduct is in direct violation of law, it will become your duty, immediately on your arrival there, to put penalties prescribed by law, on those who offend.
‘As these laws probably are not known to many who are about starting to California, it would be well to make it publicly known that there are such laws in existence, and that they will be in future enforced against all persons not citizens of the United States in California.’ It’s signed, Persefor F. Smith, Brevet Major-General U.S.A., Commanding Pacific Division.” He looked around at the others. “Questions? Comments?”
Quinton, the Pacific Mail Agent, raised his hand. “That is all very well and good, but it does nothing to solve the immediate problem of all those people on the docks who are demanding passage on this vessel.”
“There are obviously more people on the dock than this vessel can accommodate,” Captain Forbes replied in a weary voice. “What would you suggest?”
“You must put off all those that you took aboard in Peru,” Quinton replied.
“Those people were put aboard by your counterpart in Callao,” Forbes said angrily. “Against my will, I might add.”
“He is not my counterpart; he is an agent for the company that owns this ship, and it was a mistake.” Quinton pointed toward the wharf. “Most of those people are American citizens who paid passage on the Pacific Mail Route and crossed the isthmus. They feel that they have a right to passage on an American ship, and I agree.”
“How many did we take aboard at Callao?” Jack asked.
“Seventeen in the cabin and eighty in steerage,” Forbes replied. “That puts us nearly at full capacity.”
“I don’t think we can legally put the Peruvians ashore in a foreign country,” Robert said. “But we can probably change their accommodations.”
“In what way?” Forbes asked.
Robert gestured toward the open deck. “We’ll erect tents and temporary structures, then move the Peruvians topside and give their spaces to an equal number of Americans.”
“Two men to a bunk in steerage would accommodate eighty more,” Quinton suggested.
“That would be nearly four hundred souls,” Forbes protested. “Double what this ship was designed to carry.”
“Can she carry the weight?” Jack asked.
“Aye,” Forbes said. “But we’ll need more coal to reach California than we originally purchased.” He thought a moment. “But that’s not the worst of it. Even if we had the coal, we can’t carry enough fresh water.”
“We can stop at Acapulco to take on fresh water,” Marshall suggested.
Forbes nodded. “Aye. You’re right. We can make Acapulco with the water we have, if we have the coal to get there.”
Jack looked at Quinton. “Can you purchase the additional coal?”
“Yes,” Quinton said, after a moment. “Yes, I’m sure I can.”
“Good,” Jack said. “But first you must go placate those people on the docks. Until they’re peaceful this ship will not approach.”
“By what authority do you dare to order me about?” Quinton shouted.
“By the authority of the United States Army,” Jack shouted back. “This port and the entire isthmus are now under martial law and I am in command. Anyone resisting my authority will be summarily executed. Questions?”
“Those people are armed with knives and revolvers,” Quinton complained. “I demand military protection.”
Robert offered him his pistol. “Here’s your military protection. An Army issue Colt.”
Quinton looked at the gun as if it was a coiled snake. “I don’t know how to use that.”
Robert grinned. “Then I suppose your only protection is your silver tongue.”
“You have permission to go ashore, Mr. Quinton,” Marshall said with a grin.
February 28, 1849
San Francisco, California
Marina was standing at the ship’s rail with Jack, Clementine and Robert as the longboats began towing the California toward the docks. “So much for your sleepy little town,” she said, dryly.
“Yes. So much for it.” Jack lowered his binoculars and leaned over the rail. “Ahoy in the boat,” he shouted.
“Aye?” the coxswain of the nearest longboat looked up.
“What’s all the activity? Has something happened?”
“Gold,” the man shouted. “They’s somethin’ like twenty-five thousand new people in town and more comin’ every day.”
“Twenty-five thousand,” Jack repeated in amazement. “That’s impossible.”
Robert took the binoculars from Jack, looked at the bustling shore, then gave the glasses to Marina. “I guess you won’t be having that vacation we promised you, Mother.”
She put the glasses to her eyes. “I’ve seen a few boom towns spring up in Texas, but nothing like this. You’re going to have your hands full trying to keep the peace here.” She gave the binoculars to Clementine but Clementine passed them on to Jack without looking ashore.
“Do you see Sherman?” Robert asked Jack. “He said he’d meet us.”
“There are too many people on the dock,” Jack said.
“Cump has a red beard,” Robert prompted.
“Cump?” Marina asked. “What kind of name is that? It sounds obscene.”
“William Tecumseh Sherman,” Jack replied. “Cump.”
“Class of ’40,” Robert added, to stop Marina from a ribald reply. “Sixth in his class. He would have been fourth, but he had too many demerits.”
“Quincy’s set a record,” Jack chuckled. “He managed to collect ninety-nine demerits in his Plebe year.”
“Cump got a hundred fifty in four years, only thirty in his plebe year,” Robert said. “I pray for poor Quincy every night.”
“You’re wasting your time and God’s time in praying for Quincy,” Marina growled. “He’s a Van Buskirk. He’ll graduate and it’ll be near the top of his class, just like all the rest of you.”
Jack was watching what seemed to be a brawl on the dock. “From the looks of this place, we may need somebody who’s as good with his fists as Quincy.”
“Is that Cump swinging his sword?” Robert asked, squinting at the dockside fracas.
“Must be.” Jack gave Robert the binoculars.
“Yes, that’s Cump,” Robert chuckled. He lowered the glasses. “Do you know Colonel Richard Mason, Mother?”
She nodded. “Yes. His grandfather, George Mason, was a delegate to the Constitutional Convention. He knew your grandfather and grandmother.”
“Mason’s the military governor here.” Jack took the binoculars back from Robert.
“For now,” Robert said with a grin. “With Zachary Taylor in the W
hite House, the Van Buskirk political star may be on the rise again.”
April 2, 1849
San Francisco, California
Marina walked out of the millinery shop and stopped abruptly as a bearded man on the wooden sidewalk tipped his hat to her. “You idiot,” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder. “Jack and his wife are in there. If he sees you, he’ll have no choice but to arrest you.”
“He may see me but he won’t arrest me, Mother.” William Van Buskirk replied.
She took his arm and steered him away from the shop. “If you harm Jack or any of your other brothers, I’ll kill you myself. You may be able to hide from the law but you can’t hide from me.”
“Does that threat extend to my sister?”
“Why would you hurt Anna?”
“I despise her. That’s why I killed her husband.”
“The warning applies to all my children and grandchildren.” She led him into a saloon and to a vacant table at the rear, against the wall. “Buy me a drink. Vodka if they have it, gin if they don’t.”
“Happy to.” William pulled out a chair for her. “I’m not going let Jack arrest me nor will I let you kill me, Mother.”
“Jack won’t be looking for me in here,” she replied as she accepted the seat. “As to the other, if the time comes, we’ll just have to see.”
William pushed his way to the bar, then returned to the table with a bottle and two glasses. “I was sorry to hear about Dad. Why didn’t you tell me when I saw you at Galveston?”
“I didn’t want to talk about it. How did you hear?”
“That Texas Ranger, Joshua Whipple, caught up with me in Mexico.” William sat down with his back to the wall. “He told me.”
“Josiah, not Joshua. Did you kill him?” She poured gin into both glasses then drank half of hers in a single swallow.
“Not yet. He captured me, but he made the mistake of putting me in a Mexican jail. I bribed my way out. Sooner or later he’ll hear that I’m in San Francisco and I’ll repay him for the indignity of his insults, and for that night in jail.”
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