Port O' Gold

by Louis J. Stellman

"You were a friend of Mr. Broderick's," he said impulsively. "He oftenspoke of you ... and once, not long before he died, he said to me:'Herbert, when your soul's in trouble, go to Alice Windham ...'"

  Mrs. Windham put aside her knitting rather hastily, rose and walked tothe window. She made no answer.

  Presently the boy continued: "That time has come--now--Mrs. Windham."

  Alice crossed the room and laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Herbert!What's the matter?"

  His voice sank almost to a whisper. "There's a plot to overthrow thegovernment in California. I'm a part of it.... I don't know what to do."

  "You don't mean ... you're a traitor?" she asked unbelievably.

  "I suppose I am or must be--to some one," he said wearily. "I'm caughtin a net, Mrs. Windham. Will you help me get out? Advise me ... as youdid him. Oh, I know what you meant to Mr. Broderick. Your faith,your counsel!"

  "Please," said Alice sharply. "We won't speak of that. What can I do forYOU?"

  "I beg your pardon. I'm a thoughtless ass ... that's why I got into thepickle probably. They asked me to join...."

  "They? Who?" she asked. "Is he--Benito--?"

  "Oh, no, Benito's out of it completely. I'm a Southern boy, you know.That's why they let me in; a lot of them have money. A man we call 'ThePresident' is our chief. And there's a committee of thirty, each of whomis pledged to organize a fighting force; a hundred men."

  Waters hesitated. "I took an oath to keep this all a secret ... but I'lltrust you, Mrs. Windham. You've got to know something about it.... Thesemen are hired desperadoes or adventurers. They know there's fighting tobe done; they've no scruples.... Meanwhile they're well paid, ostensiblyengaged in various peaceful occupations all around the bay. When ourPresident gives the order they'll be massed--three thousand of 'em; wellarmed, drilled--professional fighters. You can see what'll happen...."

  "You mean they'll seize the forts ... deliver us to the enemy?" shespoke aghast.

  "I'm afraid you're right, Mrs. Windham."

  "Has your--ah--society approached General Johnson?"

  "Not yet--they're a little afraid of him."

  Alice Windham thought a moment. "When is your next meeting?"

  "Tomorrow. We are called by word of mouth. I've just received mysummons."

  "Well, then," Alice told him, "make a motion--or whatever you callit--that the General be approached, sounded. They'll appoint acommittee. They'll put you on it, of course. Thus you can apprise him ofthe plot without violating your oath. I don't believe he will aid you,for that means betraying his trust.... But if he should--come back tome. We will have to act quickly."

  * * * * *

  A fortnight passed. Alice had learned by adroit questioning that thefederal army was a purely negligible defensive force.

  An attack would result in the easy plundering of this storehouse as wellas the militia armories of San Francisco. Thus equipped, an army couldbe organized out of California's Southern sympathizers, who would beatdown all resistance, loot the treasury of its gold and perhaps align theState with Slavery's Cause.

  Rebellion, civil warfare loomed with all its horrors. If the plot thatWaters had described were carried through there would be bloodshed inthe city. Her husband had gone to Sacramento on business. Suppose itcame tonight!

  Anxiously Alice hovered near the cot where ten-year Robert slept.

  There came a knock at the door.

  "Who's there?" she asked, hand upon the bolt. Then, with an exclamationof relief, she opened it. Admitted Herbert Waters.

  He was smiling. "I took your advice.... It worked."

  She pushed a chair toward the hearth. "Sit there," she ordered. "Tell meall about it."

  Waters gazed into the fire half abstractedly. "Three of us were named,"he said, "to have a conference with General Johnson." He turned to her,his eyes aglow, "I'll never forget that meeting. He asked us to beseated with his usual courtesy. Then he said, quite matter-of-factly ...in an off-hand sort of way, 'There's something I want to mention beforewe go further. I've heard some foolish talk about attempts to seize thestrongholds of the government under my charge. So I've prepared for allemergencies.' His eyes flashed as he added, 'I will defend the propertyof the United States with every resource at my command, with the lastdrop of blood in my body. Tell that to your Southern friends.'"

  "And your plot?"

  "It's been abandoned."

  "Thank God," Alice exclaimed fervently.

  "And thank yourself a little," he commented, smiling.

  "General Johnson is a brave and honorable gentleman," Alice said. "Iwonder--who could have informed him?"

  Waters looked at her quickly. But he did not voice the thought upon histongue.

  * * * * *

  April 24 General E.V. Sumner arrived with orders to take charge of thedepartment of the Pacific. General Johnson's resignation was already onits way to Washington.

  On the following morning came the news that Southern forces had attackedFort Sumpter.

  CHAPTER LVI

  SOME WAR REACTIONS

  San Francisco adjusted itself to war conditions with its usual impulsivefacility. Terry, who had resigned from the Supreme bench followingBroderick's death, and who had passed through the technicalities of afarcical trial, left for Texas. He joined the Southern forces and foryears California knew him no more. Albert Sydney Johnson, after beingdisplaced by General Sumner, offered his services to Jefferson Davis andwas killed at Shiloh. Edward Baker, now a Senator from Oregon, left thehalls of Congress for a Union command. At the head of the Californiavolunteer regiment he charged the enemy at Ball's Bluff and fell, hisbody pierced by half a dozen bullets. Curiously different was the recordof Broderick's old foeman, William Gwin. In October, 1861, he startedEast via the Isthmus of Panama, accompanied by Calhoun Benham, one ofTerry's seconds in the fateful duel. On the same steamer was GeneralSumner, relieved of his command in San Francisco, en route to activeservice. Convinced that Gwin and Benham plotted treason, he orderedtheir arrest, but not before they threw overboard maps and other papers.They escaped conviction. But Gwin found Paris safer than America--untilthe war had reached its close.

  When the first call came for volunteers by way of the pony express,Benito and Adrian talked of enlisting. Even thirteen-year Francisco, tohis mother's horror, spoke of going as a drummer boy.

  "One would think you men asked nothing better than to kill each other,"Inez Windham stormed.

  Yet she was secretly proud. She would have felt a mite ashamed hadAdrian displayed less martial ardor. And to her little son she showedthe portrait of Francisco Garvez, who had ridden with Ortega and d'Anzain the days of Spanish glory.

  Lithographs of President Lincoln appeared in household and office. Flagsflew from many staffs and windows. News was eagerly awaited from thebattle-front.

  Adrian had been rejected by a recruiting board because of a slight limp.He had never quite recovered from a knife wound in the groin inflictedby McTurpin. Benito had been brusquely informed that his family neededhim more than the Union cause at present. Still unsatisfied he found asubstitute, an Englishman named Dart, who fell at Gettysburg, and towhose heirs in distant Liverpool he gladly paid $5000.

  But Herbert Waters went to war. Alice kissed the lad good-by and pinneda rosebud on his uniform as he departed on the steamer. Little Robertclung to him and wept when they were separated. Adrian, Benito and ahost of others shook his hand.

  A whistle blew; he had to scamper for the gang-plank. The vessel movedslowly, turning in her course toward the Golden Gate. Men were wavingtheir hats and weeping women their handkerchiefs. Alice stood misty eyedand moveless, till the steamer passed from sight.

  * * * * *

  Though one heard loud-chorused sentiments of Unionism, there were manysecret friends of slavery in San Francisco. One felt them like anundercurrent, covert and disquieting. To determine where men stood, apublic meeting had been call
ed for May 11. Where Post ran into Marketstreet, affording wide expanse for out-door gathering, a speaker's standwas built. Here the issues of war, it was announced, would be discussedby men of note.

  "Starr King, our pulpit Demosthenes, is to talk," Benito told his wife."They tell me King's a power for the Union. He's so eloquent that evenSoutherners applaud him."

  They were interrupted by Po Lun, their Chinese servitor, who entered,leading Robert by the hand. The boy had a soldier cap, fashioned fromnewspaper by the ingenious celestial; it was embellished with plumesfrom a feather duster. A toy drum was suspended from his neck; the hiltof a play-time saber showed at his belt. The Chinaman carried a flag andboth were marching in rhythmic step, which taxed the long legs of Po Lunseverely by way of repression.

  "Where in the world are you two going?" Alice laughed.

  "We go public meeting, Missee," said Po Lun. "We hea' all same Miste'Stah King pleach-em 'bout Ablaham Lincoln."

  "Hurrah!" cried Benito with enthusiasm. "Let's go with them, Alice." Hecaught her about the waist and hurried her onward. Bareheaded, they ranout into the morning sunshine.

  * * * * *

  At Post and Market streets, thousands waited, though the day was young.Constantly the crowd increased. From all directions came pedestrians,horsemen, folks in carriages, buggies--all manner of vehicles, even farmwagons from the outlying districts. Most of them looked upon attendanceas a test of loyalty. When it was learned that Governor Downey had senthis regrets a murmur of disapproval ran through the throng. He had beenvery popular in San Francisco, for he had vetoed the infamous Bulkheadbill, which planned to give private interests the control of thewaterfront. He also pocketed a libel measure aimed at San Francisco'sindependent press. But in the national crisis--a time when politicaltemporizing was not tolerated--he "did not believe that war should bewaged upon any section of the Confederacy, nor that the Union should bepreserved by a coercive policy."

  "I saw the letter," Adrian told Benito. "They were going to read it atfirst, but they decided not to. After all, the little Governor's notafraid to utter his thoughts."

  "I've more respect for him than for Latham," Windham answered. "He's tomake a speech today. Only a few weeks ago he damned us up and down inCongress. Now he's for the Union. I despise a turn-coat."

  They were interrupted by a voice that made announcements from theplatform.

  Starr King arose amid cheers. The preacher was a man of marvelousenthusiasm. His slight, frail figure gave small hint of his dynamictalents. He had come to California for rest and health. But in themaelstrom of pre-war politics, he found neither "dolce far niente" norrecuperation. He plunged without a thought of self into the fight forCalifornia.

  As he began to talk the crowd pressed forward, packed itself into asmaller ring. Medlied sounds of converse died into a silence, which wasalmost breathless.

  For an hour King went on discussing clearly, logically and deeply, allthe issues of the Civil War; the attitude, responsibilities andinfluences of California, particularly San Francisco. He made no greatemotional appeals; he dealt in no impassioned oratory nor invective.

  At the close there was a little pause, so deep the concentration oftheir listening, before the concourse broke into applause. Then it washysteria, pandemonium. Hats flew in the air; whistles, cheers and bravosmingled. The striking of palm against palm was like a great volley.Again and again the preacher rose, bowed, retired. Finally he thankedthem, called the meeting closed, and bade them a good afternoon. Onlythen the crowd began to melt. Fifty thousand people knew their city--andtheir State no doubt--were safe for anti-slavery.

  The concourse broke into applause. Then it was hysteria,pandemonium. Fifty thousand knew their city was safe for Anti-Slavery.]

  CHAPTER LVII

  WATERS PAYS THE PRICE

  Months passed to a tune of fifes and drums. Everywhere men weredrilling. At more or less regular intervals one saw them marching downMontgomery street, brave in their new uniforms, running a gauntlet ofbunting, flags and cheers. Then they passed from one's ken. Eachfortnight the San Francisco papers published a column of Deaths andCasualties.

  In due time a letter came from Herbert Waters, now a sergeant of histroop. Benito promptly closed his office for the afternoon and ran homewith it; he read the missive, while Alice, Robert and Po Lun listened,eager-eyed and silent:

  "We have marched over historic ground, the trail of d'Anza, whichBenito's forefathers broke in 1774. They say it is the hardest marchthat volunteer troops ever made and I can well believe it. There are norailroads; it was almost like exploring. Sometimes water holes areninety miles apart. The desert is so hot that you in temperate SanFrancisco can't imagine it unless you think of Hell; and in themountains we found snow up to our waists; were nearly frozen.

  "Apaches, Yumas, Navajos abound; they are cruel, treacherous fighters.We had some lively skirmishes with them. I received a poisoned arrow inmy arm. But I sucked the wound and very soon, to everyone's surprise, ithealed. There comes to me oft-times a strange conceit that I cannot bekilled or even badly hurt ... until I have met Terry."

  There was a postscript written on a later date, proceeding from FortDavis, Texas. Though the handwriting was less firm than the foregoing,there was a jubilance about the closing lines which even the Chinesefelt. His eyes glowed with a battle spirit as Benito read:

  "My prayer has been answered. At least in part. I have met and foughtwith Broderick's assassin. It was in the battle for Fort Davis, which wewrested from the enemy, that he loomed suddenly before me, a great hulkof a man in a captain's uniform swinging his sword like a demon. I sawone of our men go down before him and then the battle press brought ustogether. It seemed almost like destiny. His sword was red and dripping,his horse was covered with foam. He looked at me with eyes that wereinsane--mad with the lust of killing; tried to plunge the blade into myneck. But I caught his wrist and held it. I shouted at him, for thenoise was hideous, 'David Terry, I am Broderick's friend.' He went whiteat that. I let his wrist go and drew my own saber. I struck at him andthe sparks flew from his countering weapon. My heart was leaping with akind of joy. 'No trick pistols this time,' I cried. And I spat inhis face.

  "But another's ball came to his rescue. I felt it, cold as ice and hotas fire in my lung. I made a wild slash at him as I fell; saw him wince,but ride away.... So, now I lie in a camp hospital. It has seemed a longtime. But it is the fortune of war. Perhaps I shall see you soon."

  "It isn't signed," Benito seemed a trifle puzzled. Then he found, inback of Waters' lines, a final sheet in a strange handwriting. Hurriedlyhe rose, walked to the open door. Below, upon the bay, storm wasbrewing; it seemed mirrored in his eyes.

  "What is it, dear?" asked Alice following. He handed her the singlesheet of paper.

  "Dead!" her tone was stunned, incredulous.

  Benito's arm around her, dumbly, they went out together. Rain wasbeginning to fall, but neither knew it.

  * * * * *

  Several years of war made little change in San Francisco. The cityfurnished more than its quota of troops. The California Hundred, trainedfighters and good horsemen, went to Massachusetts in 1862 and wereassigned to the Second Cavalry. Later the California Battalion joinedthem. Both saw terrific fighting.

  But California furnished better than "man-power" to the struggle. Money,that all-important war-essential, streamed uninterruptedly from thecoast-state mines to Washington. More than a hundred millions hadalready been sent--a sum which, in Confederate hands, might have turnedthe destiny of battle. California was loyal politically as well. Thoughbadly treated by a remote, often unsympathetic government, she hadscorned the plot to set up a "Pacific Republic" as the South had plannedand hoped.

  Her secret service men were busy and astute, preventing filibusteringplots and mail robberies. There was a constant feeling of uneasiness.San Francisco still housed too many Southern folk.

  Benito and Alice were dining with t
he Stanleys. Francisco and Robertwere squatted on the hearth, poring over an illustrated book that hadcome from New York. It showed the uniforms of United States soldiers,the latest additions to the navy.

  "See," said Francisco, "here are pictures of Admiral Farragut andGeneral Sherman." He was fifteen now and well above his father'sshoulders. Robert, three years younger, looked up to admire his cousin.A smaller, more intellectual type of boy was Robert, with his mother'squiet sweetness and his father's fire.

  "Here's a picture of the fight between the Monitor and Merrimac," hecried interestedly, "When I grow up I shall join the navy and wear acap with gold braid, like Farragut."

  "And I shall be a lawyer ... maybe a Senator or President," saidFrancisco, with importance.

  The men, talking politics over their cigars, did not hear this converse,but the women looked down at their sons, smiling fondly. "YesterdayRobert announced that he would be a poet," Alice confided. "He saw hisfather writing verses in a book."

  "And tomorrow he will want to be an inventor or a steam-boat captain,"Inez answered. "'Tis the way with boys.... Mine is getting so big--I'mafraid he'll be going to war."

  Po Lun interrupted their further confidences. He rushed in breathless,unannounced. "Misstah Windham," he spoke to Benito. "One man wanchee seeyou quick in Chinatown.... He allee same plitty soon die. He say yousabe him. His name McTu'pin."

  CHAPTER LVIII

  McTURPIN TURNS INFORMER

  Benito stared, bewildered, at the Chinaman. "McTurpin dying? Wants tosee me?"

  Po Lun nodded. "He send-um China boy you' house. He wait outside."