Port O' Gold

by Louis J. Stellman

  Sailors from the trade and whaling ships, trappers, hunters and themotley populace of Yerba Buena made a colorful and strangely variedpicture, as they gathered with the rancheros about the Plaza.

  At 8 o'clock four boats descended simultaneously from the Portsmouth'ssides. They were greeted by loud cheers from the Americans on shore andwatched with excited interest by the others. The boats landed theircrews near the spring where a sort of wharf had been constructed. Theyreturned for more and finally assembled seventy marines, a smallernumber of sailors and the ship's band. Captain Montgomery, in the fulldress uniform of a naval commander, reviewed his forces. Beside himstood Lieutenant John S. Misroon, large, correct and rather awkward,with long, restless arms; a youthful, rosy complexion and serious blueeyes. Further back, assembling his marines in marching order, wasLieutenant Henry Watson, a smaller man of extraordinary nervous energy.Montgomery gave the marching order. Fife and drum struck up a lively airand to its strains the feet of Yerba Buena's first invading army keptuncertain step as sailors and marines toiled through the sand. Half athousand feet above them stood the quaint adobe customs house, itsred-tiled roof and drab adobe walls contrasting pleasantly with thesurrounding greenery of terraced hills. Below it lay the Plaza with itsflagpole, its hitching racks for horses and oxen.

  Here the commander halted his men. "Lieutenant Watson," he addressed thesenior subaltern, "be so good as to request attendance by the prefect oralcalde.... And for heaven's sake, fasten your coat, sir," he added in awhispered aside.

  Saluting with one hand, fumbling at his buttons with the other, Watsonmarched into the customs house, while the populace waited agape; but hereturned very soon to report that the building was untenanted. CaptainMontgomery frowned. He had counted on the pomp and punctilio of a formalsurrender--a spectacular bit of history that would fashion gallant wordsfor a report. "Haul down the flag of Mexico," he said to LieutenantMisroon. "Run up the Stars and Stripes!"

  Lieutenant Misroon gazed aloft, then down again, embarrassed. "There isno flag, sir," he responded, and Montgomery verified his statement witha frowning glance. "Where the devil is it, then?" he asked explosively.

  A frightened clerk appeared now at the doorway of the custom house. Hebowed and scraped before the irate commander. "Pardon, SenorCommandante," he said, quaveringly, "the flag of Mexico reposes in atrunk with the official papers of the port. I, myself, have seen thereceiver of customs, Don Rafael Pinto, place it there."

  "And where is Don Rafael?"

  "Some days ago he joined the Castro forces in the South, Senor."

  "Well, well!" Montgomery's tone was sharp; "there must be someone incommand. Who is he?"

  "The Sub-Prefect has ridden to his rancho, Commandante."

  "That disposes of the civil authorities," Montgomery reflected, "sincePort-Captain Ridley is in jail with Fremont's captives." He turned tothe clerk again. "Is there not a garrison at the Presidio?"

  "They have joined the noble Castro," sighed the clerk, recovering hisequanimity. "There is only the commander Sanchez, Senor. He is also athis rancho."

  Despite his irritation, Captain Montgomery could not miss the humor ofthe situation. A dry chuckle escaped him. "Run up the flag," he said toLieutenant Misroon, and the latter hastened to comply. An instant laterthe starry banner floated high above their heads. A cheer broke out.Hats flew into the air and from the ship's band came the stirringstrains of America's national air. Then, deep and thunderous, a gunspoke on the Portsmouth. Another and another.

  Captain Montgomery, stiff and dignified, lifted his hand and amid animpressive silence read the proclamation of Commodore Sloat, in whichall citizens of captured ports were assured of fair and friendlytreatment and invited to become subjects of the United States. Hesuggested the immediate formation of a town militia. Leidesdorff camebustling forward.

  "My house is at your service, gentlemen," he said. "And tonight," heremoved his hat and bowed toward the ladies, "tonight I bid you all tobe my guests and give our new friends welcome." He saluted Montgomeryand his aids, who, somewhat nonplussed, returned the greeting.

  Nathan Spear elbowed his way to the commander's side. With him cameSenora Windham and the smiling Senorita Inez. Benito lingered ratherdiffidently in the background with a group of Spanish Californians, butwas finally induced to bring them forward. There were generalhandshakings. Many other rancheros, now that the ice was broken, broughttheir wives and daughters for an introduction to the gringo commandante,and Montgomery, his good humor restored, kissed many a fair hand inresponse to a languishing smile. It seemed a happy and a friendlyseizure. Inez said, eyes a-sparkle, "We shall see you at the ball thisevening, Senor Commandante."

  "I shall claim the first dance, Senorita," said the sailor, bowing low.Her heart leaped as they left him, and she squeezed her brother's arm."He is a kindly man, Benito mio. I shall tell him of thisinterloper--this McTurpin. Have no fear."

  Benito smiled a little dubiously. He had less faith than Inez in thefuture government of the Americans.

  CHAPTER V

  AN OFFER AND A THREAT

  Aleck McTurpin, tired but exhilarated, rode toward the Windham rancho onthe morning after Leidesdorff's ball. He had made a night of it and hewas in high fettle. The Senorita Windham had granted him a dance despiteher brother's scowling disapproval. Out of the charm of that briefassociation there had come into the gambler's mind a daring plan. To theSenorita Inez he had spoken of his claim upon the Windham rancho throughher brother's note won on the gambling table. He had touched the mattervery gently, for McTurpin knew the ways of women and was not withoutengaging qualities when they stood him in good stead.

  Now he rode toward a tryst with Inez Windham and his heart leaped at theprospect of another sight of her; within him like a heady wine there wasthe memory of her sparkling eyes, the roguish, mischievous, half-poutingmouth. The consciousness of something finer than his life had knownaroused in him strange devotional impulses, unfamiliar yearnings.

  He and the Senorita were to meet and plan a settlement of McTurpin'sclaim against the rancho. He had asked her to come alone, and, after aswift look, half fearful, half desperate, she consented. It was anunheard-of thing in Spanish etiquette. But he believed she would fulfillthe bargain. And if she did, he asked himself, what should he say--ordo? For, perhaps, the first time in his life McTurpin was uncertain.

  Suddenly the road turned and he came upon her. She stood beside herhorse, the morning sunlight in her wondrous dark hair. The ride hadbrought fresh color to her face and sparkle to her eyes. McTurpin caughthis breath before the wonder and beauty of her. Then he sprang from hishorse and bowed low. The Senorita Inez nodded almost curtly.

  "I have little time, Senor," she said, uneasily. "You are late. I may bemissed." Her smile was all the more alluring for its hint of panic. "Canwe not come to the point at once? I have here certain jewels which willpay a portion of the debt." She unclasped from her throat a necklace ofpearls he had noted at the ball. She held them out toward him. "And hereis a ring. Have you brought the paper?"

  McTurpin held up a protesting hand. "You wrong me, Senorita," hedeclared. "I am a gambler. Yes ... I take my chance with men and win orlose according to the Fates. But I have yet to rob a woman of hertrinkets."

  "It is no robbery," she demurred, hastily. "Take them, I beseech you,and return the note. If it is not enough, we will pay more ... later ...from the proceeds of the ranch."

  "Senorita," said McTurpin eagerly, "let us compromise this matter moreadroitly. Should I make no further claim upon your ranch than that whichI possess, why may we not be neighbors--friends?"

  She tried to protest, but he rushed on, giving her no opportunity."Senorita, I am not a man devoid of culture. I am not a sailor or atrapper like those ruffians below. Nor a keeper of shops. Senorita, Iwill give up gambling and become a ranchero. If--" he stammered,"If I--"

  Inez Windham took a backward step. Her breath came sharply. In thisman's absurd confusion there was written plainer than his u
ncompletedwords could phrase it, what he meant.

  "No, no," her little hands went out as if to ward off some repulsivething. "Senor--that is quite impossible."

  McTurpin saw the look of horror, of aversion. He felt as though someonehad struck him in the face. There was a little silence. Then helaughed, shortly.

  "Impossible?" the tone was cutting. "We shall see.... This is now awhite man's country. I have offered to divide the rancho. What if Ishould take it all? Where would you go? You, the proud Senora and theshiftless young Benito?"

  The Senorita Inez' lips curled. "When my father comes he will know howto answer you," she told him, hotly.

  "If he were alive he would have come long since," McTurpin answered."Many perish on the northern trails." He took a step toward her. "Do youknow that this morning 200 more Americans arrived on the ship Brooklyn?They are armed and there is talk of 'running out the greasers.' Do youknow what that means? It were well to have a friend at court, mylittle lady."

  "Go!" the girl blazed at him. "Go, and quickly--liar that you are. Mybrother and his vaqueros will know how to protect my mother and me." Shesprang upon her horse and galloped toward the rancho. McTurpin, red andangry, watched her disappearing in a whirl of dust.

  * * * * *

  "Look, my brother! He has spoken truly." Inez and Benito had ridden tothe pueblo for a confirmation of McTurpin's words. They hitched theirhorses at the rack in Portsmouth Square and walked down toward thelanding place. A large ship lay in the offing. Between her and the shoremany small boats laden with passengers and varied cargoes plied toand fro.

  Inez, as they descended, noted many women clad in the exaggeratedhoopskirts, the curious, short, gathered bodices and the low hats of theearly forties. She thought this apparel oddly ugly, though the faceswere not unattractive. They stood in knots, these women, some of themgazing rather helplessly about. The younger ones were surrounded bygroups of admirers with whom they were chatting animatedly. There werealso many children capering in the sand and pointing out to one anotherthe strange sights of this new place. The men--hundreds of them itseemed to Inez--were busied with constructive tasks. Already there weremany temporary habitations, mostly tents of varied shapes and sizes.Bonfires blazed here and there. Stands of arms in ordered, regularstacks, gave the scene a martial air. Piles of bed-clothing, householdeffects, agricultural implements, lay upon the sand. A curiousinstrument having a large wheel on one side caught the girl's attention.Near it were square, shallow boxes. A pale, broad-shouldered man withhandsome regular features and brooding, poetic eyes stood beside themachine, turning the wheel now and then, and examining the boxes. Heseemed to be a leader, for many people came to ask him questions whichhe answered with decision and authority.

  "Who is that?" asked Inez of Nathan Spear and Leidesdorff as the twoapproached. "And what is the strange contrivance upon which he hashis hand?"

  "It is a printing press," Spear answered. "Yerba Buena is soon to have apaper for the chronicling of its metropolitan affairs. The man? Oh,that's Sam Brannan, the elder of this band of Mormons."

  "Is it true that they have come to drive us from our homes?" asked Inezfearfully.

  "Who, the Mormons? Lord forbid," retorted Spear. He beckoned to theelder, who approached and was presented. Inez, as she looked into hiskindly eyes, forgot her fears. Brannan eagerly explained his printingpress. She left him feeling that he was less enemy than friend.

  CHAPTER VI

  THE FIRST ELECTION

  Captain John J. Vioget's house was the busiest place in Yerba Buena, andJohn Henry Brown its most important personage. The old frame dwellingbuilt by a Swiss sailor in 1840 had become in turn a billiard hall andgroggery, a sort of sailors' lodging house and a hotel. Now it was thescene of Yerba Buena's first election. About a large table sat theelection inspectors guarding the ballot box, fashioned hastily from anempty jar of lemon syrup. Robert Ridley, recently released from Sutter'sFort, where he had been imprisoned by the Bear Flag party, was acandidate for office as alcalde. He opposed Lieutenant WashingtonBartlett, appointed to officiate pro tem by Captain Montgomery. Brownwas busy with his spirituous dispensing. It was made a rule, uponBrannan's advice, that none should be served until he had voted.

  Brown kept shouting: "Ship-shape, gents, and reg'lar; that's the word.Place your vote and then you drinks.... Gord bless yer merry hearts."

  Thus he harangued them into order and coaxed many a Russian, Spanish,English and American coin across his bar. Suddenly he looked into theeyes of Aleck McTurpin.

  "Give me a brandy sling," the gambler ordered. He was in a rough mood,which ensues from heavy and continued drinking.

  "Have ye voted, Aleck?" Brown inquired.

  "I vote when I please," McTurpin answered sullenly, "and I drink when itsuits me." He took from an inner pocket of his coat a derringer withsilver mountings, laid it meaningly upon the bar. "I ordered abrandy sling."

  Brown paled, but his eye did not waver. Almost casually, he spoke. "Stopyour jokin', Aleck. Rules is rules."

  McTurpin's fingers closed about the pistol. His eyes were venomous.

  Then Benito Windham entered. Just inside the door he paused,uncertainly. "I have come to vote for Senor Bartlett as Alcalde,"he declared.

  A laugh greeted him. "You should not announce your choice," saidInspector Ward severely. "The ballot is supposedly secret."

  McTurpin turned, his quarrel with Brown instantly forgotten. "Throw thelittle greaser out," he spoke with slow distinctness. "This is a whiteman's show."

  There was a startled silence. "He's drunk," Brown told them soothingly."Aleck's drunk. Don't listen to him."

  "Drunk or not, I back my words." He waved the weapon threateningly. "Sitdown there," he ordered Windham. "If you want to vote you'll vote for agentleman. Write Bob Ridley's name on your ballot, or, by God! I'll fixyou." Benito, as if hypnotized, took a seat at the table and dipped hisquill in the ink. The others stirred uneasily, but made no move. Therewas a moment of foreboding silence. Then a hearty voice said from thedoor: "What's the matter, gentlemen?"

  No one answered. McTurpin, the pistol in his hand, still stood aboveBenito. The latter's fingers held the quill suspended. A drop of inkfell on the ballot slip unnoted. Brannan, with a puzzled frown, cameforward, laid a hand upon the gambler's shoulder.

  "What's the matter here?" he asked more sharply.

  McTurpin turned upon him fiercely. "Go to hell!" he cried. "I'm runningthis."

  Brannan's voice was quiet. "Put the pistol down!" he ordered.Deliberately McTurpin raised his weapon. "Damn you--" But he got nofarther. Brannan's fist struck fairly on the chin. One could hear theimpact of it like a hammer blow. There was a shot, a bullet spentagainst the rafters overhead. McTurpin sprawling on thesawdust-covered floor.

  * * * * *

  On Windham rancho the Senora Windham waited with a faith that knew noend for the coming of her husband. There had been vague reports fromvaguer sources that he had been captured by the northern savages. Inezand Benito were forever at her side--save when the boy rode into town tocull news from arriving sailors. The Spanish rancheros had all withdrawnto the seclusion of their holdings and were on the verge of war againstthe new authorities of Yerba Buena.

  Washington Bartlett, recently elected Alcalde, had abused his office byrepeated confiscations of fine horses from the camponeras ofSpanish-Californians, seizing them by requisition of military authorityand giving orders on the government in exchange. This the Spaniards hadborne in silence. But abuses had become so flagrant as to passall bounds.

  "We must arm and drive these robbers from our California," said Benitopassionately. "Sanchez has, in secret, organized one hundred caballeros.Only wait. The day comes when we strike!"

  "Benito," said his mother, sadly, "there has been enough of war. Wecannot struggle with these Yankees. They are strong and numerous. Wemust keep the peace and suffer until your father comes."

  "There is to be a gran
d ball at the casa of the Senor Leidesdorff," saidInez. "El Grande Commandante of the Yankee squadron comes amid greatceremony. I will gain his ear. Perchance he will undo the wrongs of thisBartlett, the despoiler."

  "Inez mia," said her brother, "do not go. No good will come of it. Forthey are all alike, these foreigners."

  "Ah!" she cried, reproachfully, "you say that of the Senor Brannan? Orof Don Nathan?"

  "They are good men," Benito answered, grudgingly. "Have it as you will."

  * * * * *

  Yerba Buena did honor to Commodore Stockton under Leidesdorff'sever-hospitable roof. Hundreds of candles burned in sconces andchandeliers, festoons of bunting and greenery gave the big room acarnival air; Indian servitors flitted silently about with trays ofrefreshments, and the gold lace and braid of America's navy mingledpicturesquely with the almost spectacular garb of stately Spanishcaballeros. The commodore, though undersized, was soldierly and verybrisk of manner. Stockton seemed to Inez a gallant figure. While shedanced with him, she found his brisk directness not unpleasing. He askedher of the rancheros and of reports that came to him of theirdissatisfaction with American authority.

  "They seem so cordial," he said, "these Spanish gentlemen. I cannotbelieve that they hate us, as it is said."

  "Ah, Senor." Inez' smile had faded and her deep and troubled eyes heldhis. "They have cause for hatred, though they come in all good will towelcome you."