Gold

by Stewart Edward White

  CHAPTER XLV

  THE CATASTROPHE

  So things went along for a month. Christmas drew near. Every joint intown was preparing for a big celebration, and we were fully in the moodto take part in it. The Ward Block was finished. From top to bottom ithad been swept and cleared. Crowds came every day to admire the varnish,the glass, the fireplaces, the high plastered walls; to sniff the cleannew smell of it. Everybody admitted it to be the finest building in thecity. Yank, Johnny, and I spent most of our time proudly showing peoplearound, pointing out the offices the various firms intended to occupy.Downstairs Jim Reckett was already installing some of the splendoursthat were to make the transplanted El Dorado the most gorgeous gamblingplace in town. Here the public was not admitted. The grand opening, onNew Year's day, was not thus to lose its finest savour.

  On Christmas eve we went to bed, strangely enough, very early. All therest of the town was celebrating, but we had been busy moving furnitureand fixtures, had worked late in order to finish the job, and were verytired. By this time we were so hardened that we could sleep through anysort of a racket, so the row going on below and on both sides did notbother us a bit. I, personally, fell immediately into a deep slumber.

  The first intimation of trouble came to me in my sleep. I dreamed wewere back on the Porcupine, and that the stream was in flood. I coulddistinctly hear the roar of it, as it swept by; and I remember Johnnyand myself were trying desperately to climb a big pine tree in order toget above the encroaching waters. A wind sprang up and shook the pineviolently. I came slowly to waking consciousness, the dream fading intoreality. Yank was standing by my cot, shaking me by the shoulder. He wasfully dressed, and carried his long rifle.

  "Get up!" he told me. "There's a big fire one or two doors away, andit's headed this way."

  Then I realized that the roar of the flames had induced my dream.

  I hastily slipped on my clothes and buckled my gold belt around mywaist. The fire was humming away in a steady crescendo, punctuated byconfused shouts of many men. Light flickered redly through the cracks ofthe loosely constructed hotel building. I found Johnny awaiting me atthe door.

  "It's a hummer," he said; "started in Denison's Exchange. They say threemen have been killed."

  The Plaza was black with men, their faces red with the light of theflames. A volunteer crew were busily darting in and out of the adjacentbuildings, carrying out all sorts of articles and dumping them in thesquare.

  "There's no water nearer than the bay," an acquaintance shouted in ourears. "There ain't much to do. She'll burn herself out in a fewminutes."

  The three buildings were already gutted. A sheet of fire sucked straightupward in the still air, as steadily as a candle flame, and almost asunwavering. It was a grand and beautiful spectacle. The flimsystructures went like paper. Talbot saw us standing at a littleelevation, and forced his way to us.

  "It will die down in five minutes," said he. "What do you bet onWarren's place? Do you think she'll go?"

  "It's mighty hot all around there," said I doubtfully.

  "Yes, but the flames are going straight up; and, as you say, it willbegin to die down pretty soon," put in Johnny.

  "The walls are smoking a little," commented a bystander judicially.

  "She's a fine old bonfire, anyway," said Talbot.

  Fifteen or twenty men were trying to help Warren's place resist theheat. They had blankets and pails of water, and were attempting tointerpose these feeble defences at the points most severely attacked.Each man stood it as long as he could, then rushed out to cool hisreddened face.

  "Reminds me of the way I used to pop corn when I was a kid," grinned aminer. "I wouldn't care for that job."

  "Just the same, they'll save it," observed Talbot judicially.

  Almost coincident with his words a long-drawn _a-ah_! burst fromthe crowd. A wandering gust of wind came in from the ocean. For thebriefest instant the tall straight column of flame bent gracefullybefore it, then came upright again as it passed. In that instant itlicked across the side wall of Warren's place, and immediately Warren'splace burst into flame.

  "Hard luck!" commented Talbot.

  The firefighters swarmed out like bees from a disturbed hive.

  "Our hotel next," said Johnny.

  "That's safe enough; there's a wide lot between," I observed.

  A fresh crew of firefighters took the place of the others--namely, thosepersonally interested in saving the hotel.

  "Lucky the night is so still," said Talbot.

  We watched Warren's place burn with all the half guilty joy of those whoare sorry; but who are glad to be there if it has to happen. SuddenlyTalbot threw up his head.

  "Feel that breeze?" he cried.

  "Suction into the fire," suggested Johnny.

  But Talbot shook his head impatiently, trying to peer through the glareinto the sky.

  It was a very gentle breeze from the direction of the ocean. I couldbarely feel it on my cheek, and it was not strong enough as yet toaffect in the slightest the upward-roaring column of flame. For a momentI was inclined to agree with Johnny that it was simply a current of airinduced by the conflagration. But now an uneasy motion began to takeplace in the crowd. Men elbowed their way here and there, met,conferred, gathered in knots. In less than a minute Talbot signalled us.We made our way to where he was standing with Sam Brannan, Casey, Green,and a few others.

  "Thank God the wind is from the northwest," Talbot said fervently. "TheWard Block is safely to windward, and we don't need to worry about that,anyway. But it is a wind, and it's freshening. We've got to do somethingto stop this fire."

  As though to emphasize the need for some sort of action, a second andstronger puff of wind sent whirling aloft a shower of sparks and brands.

  We started at double quick in the direction of the flimsy smallstructures between the old El Dorado and the Parker House. Some men,after a moment, brought ropes and axes. We began to tear down theshanties.

  But before we had been at work five minutes, the fire began to run. Thewind from the sea increased. Blazing pieces of wood flew through the airlike arrows. Flames stooped in their stride, and licked up their prey,and went on rejoicing. Structures one minute dark and cold and stillburst with startling suddenness and completeness into riotingconflagration. Our little beginning of a defence was attacked andcaptured before we had had time to perfect it. The half dozen shantieswe had pulled to the ground merely furnished piled fuel. Somewhatdemoralized, we fell back, and tried, rather vaguely, to draw a secondline of defence. The smoke and sparks suffocated and overwhelmed us, andthe following flames leaped upon us as from behind an ambush. Some fewmen continued gropingly to try to do something, but the most of us wereonly too glad to get out where we could catch a breath.

  Almost immediately, however, we were hurried back by frantic merchants.

  "Save the goods!" was the cry.

  We laboured like slaves, carrying merchandise, fixtures, furniture,anything and everything from the darkened interiors of buildings to theopen spaces. I worked as I had never worked before, and not once did Iknow whose property I thus saved. At first I groped in the darkness,seizing what I could; then gradually, like the glow of a red dawn, astrange light grew, showing dimly and ruddily the half-guessed featuresof the place. It glowed, this light, increasing in power as heatingmetal slowly turns red. And then the flames licked through; and drippingwith sweat, I abandoned that place to its enemy.

  All sense of time and all sense of locality were lost. The world was astrange world of deep, concealing shadows and strong, revealing glares,and a mist of smoke, and hurrying, shouting, excited multitudes.Sometimes I found myself in queer little temporary eddies of stillness,where a certain calm and leisure seemed to have been insulated. Then fora brief moment or so I rested. Occasionally I would find myself withsome stranger, and we would exchange brief exclamatory remarks.

  "Whole city is going!"

  "Looks like it."

  "Hear a roof fell in and killed twenty
men."

  "Probably exaggerated."

  "Probably. Don't catch me under no falling roofs! When she gets afire, Iget out."

  "Same here."

  "Well, I suppose we ought to try to do _something_."

  "Suppose so."

  And we would go at it again.

  At the end of two or three hours--no man can guess time in such asituation--the fire stopped advancing. I suppose the wind must havechanged, though at the time I did not notice it. At any rate, I foundmyself in the gray dawn looking rather stupidly at a row of the frailestkind of canvas and scantling houses which the fire had sheared cleanlyin two, and wondering why in thunder the rest of them hadn't burned!

  A dense pall of smoke hung over the city, and streamed away to the southand east. In the burned district all sense of location had been lost.Where before had been well-known landmarks now lay a flat desert. Thefire had burned fiercely and completely, and, in lack of food, had dieddown to almost nothing. A few wisps of smoke still rose, a few coalsglowed, but beside them nothing remained to indicate even the laying outof the former plan. Only over across a dead acreage of ashes rose hereand there the remains of isolated brick walls. They looked, through theeddying mists and smoke, like ancient ruins, separated by wide spaces.

  I gazed dully across the waste area, taking deep breaths, resting, mymind numb. Then gradually it was borne in on me that the Plaza itselflooked rather more empty-sided than it should. A cold hand gripped myheart. I began to skirt the smouldering embers of the shanties andwooden warehouses, trying to follow where the streets had been. Men wereprowling about everywhere, blackened by smoke, their clothing torn andburned.

  "Can you make out where Higgins's store was?" one of them hailed me. "Ihad a little shanty next door, and some gold dust. Figure I might pan itout of the ashes, if I could only find the place."

  I had no time to help him, and left him prowling around seeking for alandmark.

  The Plaza was full of people. I made my way to the northerly corner,and, pushing a passage through the bystanders, contemplated threejagged, tottering brick walls, a heap of smouldering debris, and atwisted tangle of iron work. This represented all that remained of theWard Block. The change of wind that had saved the shanties had destroyedour fortune!

  CHAPTER XLVI

  THE VISION

  Within ten hours men were at work rebuilding. Within ten days the burnedarea was all rebuilt. It took us just about the former period of time todetermine that we would be unable to save anything from the wreck; andabout the latter period for the general public to find it out.

  Talbot made desperate efforts for a foothold, and in successioninterviewed all the big men. They were sorry but they were firm. Eachhad been hard hit by the fire; each had himself to cover; each wasforced by circumstances to grasp every advantage. Again, they weresorry.

  "Yes, they are!" cried Talbot; "they just reach out and grab what oughtto be my profits! Well, it's the game. I'd do the same myself."

  By that night we knew that Talbot had lost every piece of property heowned--or thought he owned. The destruction of the Ward Block swept awayevery cent of income, with the exception of the dividends from the WharfCompany stock. These latter could not begin to meet the obligations ofinterest and agreed payments on the other property.

  The state of affairs became commonly known in about ten days simplybecause, in those rapid times, obligations were never made nor moneylent for longer periods than one month. At the end of each thirty daysthey had to be renewed. Naturally Talbot could not renew them.

  We knew all that long in advance, and we faced the situation with somehumour.

  "Well, boys," said Talbot, "here we are. About a year ago, as I rememberit, our assets were a bundle of newspapers and less than a hundreddollars. Haven't even got a newspaper now, but I reckon among us wecould just about scrape up the hundred dollars."

  "I've got nearer twenty-seven hundred in my belt," I pointed out.

  An embarrassed silence fell for a moment; then Talbot spoke up, pickinghis words very carefully.

  "We've talked that over, Frank," said he, "and we've come to theconclusion that you must keep that and go home, just as you planned todo. You're the only man of us who has managed to keep what he has made.Johnny falls overboard and leaves his in the bottom of the Sacramento;Yank gets himself busted in a road-agent row; I--I--well, I blow soapbubbles! You've kept at it, steady and strong and reliable, and youdeserve your good luck. You shouldn't lose the fruits of your labourbecause we, each in our manner, have been assorted fools."

  I listened to this speech with growing indignation; and at itsconclusion I rose up full of what I considered righteous anger. Mytemper is very slow to rouse, but when once it wakes, it takespossession of me.

  "Look here, you fellows!" I cried, very red in the face, they tell me."You answer me a few questions. Are we or are we not partners? Are we orare we not friends? Do you or do you not consider me a low-lived,white-livered, mangy, good-for-nothing yellow pup? Why, confound yourpusillanimous souls, what do you mean by talking to me in that fashion?For just about two cents I'd bust your fool necks for you--every one ofyou!" I glared vindictively at them. "Do you suppose I'd make any suchproposition to any of you--to ask you to sneak off like a whipped curleaving me to take the----"

  "Hold on, Frank," interposed Talbot soothingly. "I didn't mean----"

  "Didn't you?" I cried. "Well, what in hell did you mean? Weren't youtrying to make me out a quitter?" I had succeeded in working loose myheavy gold belt, and I dashed it on the table in front of them. "There!Now you send for some gold scales, right now, and you divide that up!Right here! Damn it all, boys," I ended, with what to a cynicalbystander would have seemed rather a funny slump into the pathetic, "Ithought we were all real friends! You've hurt my feelings!"

  It was very young, and very ridiculous--and perhaps (I can say it fromthe vantage of fifty years) just a little touching. At any rate, when Ihad finished, my comrades were looking in all directions, and Talbotcleared his throat a number of times before he replied.

  "Why, Frank," he said gently, at last, "of course we'll take it--wenever dreamed--of course--it was stupid of us, I'll admit. Naturally, Isee just how you feel----"

  "It comes to about seven hundred apiece, don't it?" drawled Yank.

  The commonplace remark saved the situation from bathos, as I am nowcertain shrewd old Yank knew it would.

  "What are you going to do with your shares, boys?" asked Talbot after awhile. "Going back home, or mining? Speak up, Yank."

  Yank spat accurately out the open window.

  "I've been figgering," he replied. "And when you come right down to it,what's the use of going back? Ain't it just an idee we got that it's theproper thing to do? What's the matter with this country, anyway--barringmining?"

  "Barring mining?" echoed Talbot.

  "To hell with mining!" said Yank; "it's all right for a vacation, but itain't noways a white man's stiddy work. Well, we had our vacation."

  "Then you're not going back to the mines?"

  "Not any!" stated Yank emphatically.

  "Nor home?"

  "No."

  "What then?"

  "I'm going to take up a farm up thar whar the Pine boys is settled, andI'm going to enjoy life reasonable. Thar's good soil, and thar's water;thar's pleasant prospects, and lots of game and fish. What more does aman want? And what makes me sick is that it's been thar all the time andit's only just this minute I've come to see it."

  "Mines for you, Johnny, or home?" asked Talbot.

  "Me, home?" cried Johnny; "why----" he checked himself, and added morequietly. "No, I'm not going home. There's nothing there for me but agood time, when you come right down to it. And mines? It strikes me thatfresh gold is easy to get, but almighty hard to keep."

  "You never said a truer word than that, Johnny," I put in.

  "Besides which, I quit mining some time ago, as you remember," went onJohnny, "due to an artistic aversion to hard work," he added.
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  "Any plans?" asked Talbot.

  "I think I'll just drift up to Sonoma and talk things over with DannyRandall," replied Johnny vaguely. "He had some sort of an idea ofextending this express service next year."

  "And you?" Talbot turned to me.

  "I," said I, firmly, "am going to turn over my share in a businesspartnership with you; and in the meantime I expect to get a job drivingteam with John McGlynn for enough to pay the board bill while yourustle. And that goes!" I added warningly.

  "Thank you, Frank," replied Talbot, and I thought I saw his bright eyedim. He held silent for a moment. "Do you know," he said suddenly, "Ibelieve we're on the right track. It isn't the gold. That is a bait, aglittering bait, that attracts the world to these shores. It's thecountry. The gold brings them, and out of the hordes that come, some,like us, will stick. And after the gold is dug and scattered and all butforgotten, we will find that we have fallen heirs to an empire."

  THE END

  NOTE

  The author desires fully to acknowledge his indebtedness to thefollowing writers, from whose books he has drawn freely, both forhistorical fact, incidents, and the spirit of the times:

  Tuthill--History of California. Foster--The Gold Regions of California. Stillman--Seeking the Golden Fleece. Taylor--El Dorado. Delano--Life on the Plains. Shinn--Mining Camps. Brooks--Four Months Among the Gold Finders. Johnson--Sights in the Gold Region and Scenes by the Way. Bostwicks--Three Years in California. Shaw--Ramblings in California. Hittell--History of San Francisco. Bates--Four Years on the Pacific Coast. Taylor--California Life Illustrated. Marryatt--Mountains and Molehills. James--The Heroes of California. Hunt--California the Golden. Haskins--The Argonauts of California. Bell--Reminiscences of a Ranger. Royce--California. Eldredge--Beginnings of San Francisco. Langford--Vigilante Days and Ways.

  The author desires further to announce that, provided nothinginterferes, he hopes to supplement this novel with two others. Theyalso will deal with early days, and will be entitled _The Gray Dawn_,and _The Rose Dawn_.