Port O' Gold

by Louis J. Stellman

  "What d'ye think of this youngster of mine?" Stanley questioned."Scarcely out of short pants and wants to be a newspaper man! I say heshould go to school a few years more ... to one of those Easterncolleges you hear so much about. I've the money. He doesn't need towork.... Talk to him, Benito. Make him listen to sense."

  "I don't wish to go East, Uncle Ben," said Francisco. "What good willit do me to learn Latin and Greek.... Higher mathematics and socialsnobbery? I want to get to work. Calvin McDonald's offered me a job onThe American Flag."

  "What will you do? Write editorials or poetry?" his father asked.

  Francisco flushed. "I'll be a copy boy to start with.... And there's noharm in writing poetry. Uncle Ben does it himself."

  It was Benito's turn to redden. "Better let the boy have his way," hesaid hastily. "Journalism's quite an education in itself."

  "So, you're against me, too! Well, well. I'll see about it."

  They shook hands good-humoredly, the boy beaming. Afterward news reachedBenito that young Stanley was a member of McDonald's staff.

  * * * * *

  In 1865 there came the joyous news of victory and peace. The DemocraticPress accepted Lee's surrender sullenly, printing now and then a covertsneer at Grant or Lincoln. Enmity died hard in Southern breasts.

  One morning as he came to town Benito saw a crowd of angry and excitedmen running down Montgomery street. Some of them brandished canes. "Downwith Copperheads," they were shouting. Presently he heard a crash ofglass, a cry of protest. Then a door gave with a splintering sound. Thecrowd rushed through, into the offices and print rooms of theDemocratic Press.

  There was more noise of wreckage and destruction. Broken chairs, tables,typecases, bits of machinery hurtled into the street. Benito grasped thearm of a man who was hurrying by. "What's wrong?" he asked.

  The other turned a flushed and angry mien toward him. "God Almighty!Haven't you heard? President Lincoln was shot last night ... by abrother of Ed Booth, the actor.... They say he's dying." He picked up astone and hurled it at an upper window of the Press.

  "We'll show these traitor-dogs a thing or two," he called. "Come on,boys, let's wreck the place!"

  CHAPTER LXI

  DESPERATE FINANCE

  The publishers of the Democratic Press had their lesson. In a citydraped with black for a beloved President, they swept up the glass oftheir shattered windows, picked up what remained of scattered type,reassembled machinery and furniture--and experienced a change of heart.Presently The Examiner burgeoned from that stricken journalistic root.

  Francisco was now a member of the Alta staff, the aggressive butshort-lived American Flag, having ceased publication several years afterthe war. Adrian admitted to Benito that the boy had justified his bentfor journalistic work.

  "The young rascal's articles are attracting attention. He even signssome of them; now and then they print one of his verses--generally asatire on local events. And he gets passes to all of the theaters. Inezand I are going to 'Camille' tonight."

  "So are Alice and myself, by a coincidence." Benito lighted a cigar andpuffed a moment; then he added, "Do you know what that boy of mineproposes to do?"

  "No," said Adrian. "Become an actor--or a politician?"

  "Well, it's almost as bad.... He wants to be a letter carrier.... Thenew free delivery routes will be established soon, you know."

  "Yes, the town's growing," commented Stanley. "Well, you'd better letyoung Robert have his way. He's almost as big as you.... How is'Montgomery Straight' progressing?"

  "Fairly well," returned Benito. "Latham and Parrott are fighting us aswe expected. But Harpending's acquired Selim Woodworth's lot on Marketstreet, just where Montgomery will cut through." He laughed. "Selimwanted half a million for it.... He'd have got it in a day or twobecause we had to have the property. But along comes an earthquake andliterally shakes $350,000 out of Woodworth's pockets. Frightened him sobadly that he sold for $150,000 and was glad to get it."

  "Well, even earthquakes have their uses," Adrian smiled. "Here comesFrancisco. I'll have him see Maguire and arrange it so that we can sittogether at the show."

  "Who is the lanky fellow with him?" asked Benito. "Looks as if he wouldappreciate a joke."

  "Oh, that's his friend, Sam Clemens," Adrian answered. "An improvidentcuss but good company. He writes for the Carson Appeal under the name ofMark Twain."

  * * * * *

  Benito, that afternoon, was closeted with Harpending and Ralston in theBank of California. The financier, who was backing the Montgomery streetventure, regarded Harpending a trifle quizzically. "Once," he said, "youtried to be a pirate, Asbury.... Oh, no offense," he laid a soothinghand upon the other's knee. "But tonight I need a desperate man such asyou. Another like Benito. We're going to raid the Mint."

  "What?" cried Windham, startled.

  "You'll need steadier nerves than that for our enterprise." Ralstonpassed his cigar case to the two men, saw them puffing equably ere hecontinued. "You know how tight the money situation has become becausePresident Grant declines to let us exchange our gold bars for coin. Witheight tons of gold in our vault we almost had a run this afternoon....Now, that's ridiculous." His fist smote the table. "Grant doesn't knowthe ropes.... But that's no reason why Hell should break loosetomorrow morning."

  "What are you going to do?" Benito asked.

  "Use my common sense--and save the banks," said Ralston shortly. "Youtwo must meet me here this evening. Soon as it's dark. You'll have ahard night's work. My friend Dore will be there also. Can you suggestanyone else--absolutely to be trusted, who will ask no questions?"

  "My son," Benito answered; "Robert likes work. He wants to be apostal-carrier."

  "Bring him by all means," said Ralston. "If he helps us out tonight,I'll see that he gets anything he wants in San Francisco."

  He was boyishly eager; full of excited plans for his daring scheme. Thetwo men left him chuckling as he bit the end off a fresh cigar.

  * * * * *

  It was nearly nine o'clock when they left the Bank of California.Theater-going crowds were housed at the play; the streets wereextraordinarily silent as the quintet made their way toward the Mint.Robert was breathing hard. The dark streets, the mysterious Empireahead, the hint of danger and a mighty stake distilled a toxic andexhilarating fever in his blood. As the pillared front of the federaltreasure house loomed up before them, Ralston made a sign for them tohalt, advancing cautiously. With astonishment they saw him pass throughthe usually guarded door and disappear. Presently he emerged withtwo sacks.

  "Robert and Benito, take these to the bank," he whispered. "The watchmenthere will give you the equivalent in gold bars to bring back." Heturned to Harpending and Dore. "I'll have yours ready in a minute." Oncemore he vanished within.

  Robert picked up the bag allotted to him. It was very heavy. As helifted it to his shoulder, the contents clinked.

  "Gold coin," said his father, significantly.

  "What if we're caught?" asked the boy, half fearfully. Ralston,reappearing, heard the question.

  "You won't be," he said. "I've attended to that."

  His assurance proved correct. All night the four men toiled between theMint and the Bank of California sweating, puffing, fatigued to the brinkof exhaustion. With the first streak of dawn, Ralston dismissed them.

  "You've brought five ton of gold coin to the vault," he said, his eyesagleam. "You've saved San Francisco the worst financial panic that evera short-sighted federal government unwittingly precipitated." Suddenlyhe laughed and threw his arms wide. "At ten o'clock the frightened sheepwill come running for their deposits.... Well, let 'em come."

  "And now you boys go home and get some sleep. By the Eternal, youdeserve it!"

  CHAPTER LXII

  ADOLPH SUTRO'S TUNNEL

  William C. Ralston's Bank of California had become the great financialinstitution of the West. Ralston was the Rothschild
of America. Throughhim Central Pacific Railway promoters borrowed $3,000,000 with lessformality than a country banker uses in mortgaging of a ten-acre farm.Two millions took their unobtrusive wing to South America, financingmines he had never seen. In Virginia City William Sharon directed abranch of the Bank of California and kept his eye on mineral investment.Benito sat in Ralston's office one morning, smoking and discussing theMontgomery street problem when a clerk tapped at the door.

  "A fellow's out here from Virginia City," he said nervously. "Wants tosee you quickly 'and no bones about it.' That's what he told me."

  "All right, send him in," said Ralston laughing. "Stay, Benito. He won'ttake a minute...." Ere he finished there stalked in a wild-eyedindividual clad in boots, the slouch hat of the mining man, a suit ofhandsome broadcloth, mud-bespattered and a heavy golden watch chain withthe usual nugget charm. He was a clean-cat type of mining speculatorfrom Nevada.

  "Sit down," invited Ralston. "Have a smoke."

  The intruder glared at Windham; then he eased himself uncomfortably intoa spacious leather-covered seat, bit off the end of a cigar,half-viciously and, having found the cuspidor, began.

  "I've something for your ear alone, Bill Ralston...."

  "Meet Benito Windham," Ralston introduced. "Speak out. I have nosecrets from my friends."

  The other hemmed and hawed. He seemed averse to putting into words somethought which troubled him beyond repression. "Do you know," he burstout finally, "that your partner, Sharon, has become the most incurableand dissolute gambler in Nevada?"

  "You don't say." Ralston did not seem as shocked as one might haveexpected. "Well, my friend, that sounds quite serious.... What's poorBill's particular kind of--vice?"

  "Poker," said the visitor. "By the Eternal, that man Sharon would stakehis immortal soul on a four-card flush and never bat an eye. Time andtime again I've seen it."

  Ralston leaned back comfortably, his folded hands across his middle. Hisspeculative stare was on a marble statue. At length he spoke. "DoesSharon win or lose?"

  "Well," the other man admitted, "I must say he wins...."

  "Then he's just the man I want," Ralston spoke with emphasis. He rose,held out his hand toward the flustered visitor. "Thanks for tellingme.... And now we'll all go for a drink together."

  * * * * *

  "That's Bill Ralston!" said Benito to his wife. They laughed about theanecdote which Windham had related at the dinner table. Robert, in hisnew letter-carrier's uniform, spoke up. "I saw him at the bank thisafternoon.... There was a letter from Virginia City and he kept mewaiting till he opened it. Then he slapped me on the shoulder. 'If thecontents of that letter had been known to certain people, son,' he toldme, 'they'd have cleaned up a fortune on the information.' Then hehanded me a gold-piece. But I wouldn't take it. 'Don't be proud,' hesaid and poked me in the ribs. 'And don't forget that Bill Ralston'syour friend.'"

  "Everybody calls him 'Bill,'" his mother added. "Washerwomen,teamsters, beggars, millionaires. If ever there was a friend of thepeople it is he."

  "Some day, though, he'll overplay his game," Benito prophesied.

  Ralston had been euchered out of a railroad to Eureka, planned byHarpending and himself and opposed by the Big Four; "Montgomery to theBay" was meeting with a host of difficulties; the Grand Hotel wasbuilding and Kearny street, where he owned property, was being widened.Ralston's genial countenance showed sometimes a little strained puckerbetween the eyes.

  * * * * *

  Now and then Benito met a man named Adolph Sutro. They called him "TheMan With a Dream." Stocky, under average height, intensely businesslike,he was--a German Burgomeister type, with Burnside whiskers and apurpose. He proposed to drive a tunnel four miles long from Carsonvalley, and strike the Comstock levels 1800 feet below the surface.

  An English syndicate was backing him. The work was going on.

  Much of Sutro's time was spent in Virginia City, superintending the workon his tunnel. But he fell into the habit of finding Benito whenever hecame to town--dragging him from home with awkward but sincereapologies to Alice.

  "You will lend me your husband, Hein?" he would say. "I like to tell himof my fancies, for he understands ... the others laugh at me."

  Alice smiled into his broad, good humored face. "That's very silly ofthem."

  "Donnerwetter! Some day they will laugh the other way around," hethreatened.

  * * * * *

  Benito and Sutro usually drove or rode through the Presidio and outalong a road which skirted cliffs and terminated at the Seal Rock House.There they dined and watched the seals disporting on some sea-drenchedrocks, a stone's throw distant. And there Sutro indulged in more dreams.

  "Some day I shall purchase that headland and build me a home ... andfarther inland I shall grow a forest out of eucalyptus trees. They comefrom Australia.... One can buy them cheap enough.... They grow fast likebamboo in the Tropics." He clapped a hand upon Benito's knee. "I shallcall it Mount Parnassus."

  Benito tried to smile appreciatively. He felt rather dubious about thescheme. But he liked to see the other's quiet eyes flash with anunexpected fire. Perhaps his genius might indeed reclaim this desolateregion. Inward from the beach lay the waste of sand-hills known asGolden Gate Park. There was talk among the real estate visionaries ofmaking it a pleasure ground.

  So regularly did they end their outings with a dinner at the Seal RockHouse that Alice always knew where to find her husband in case someclamorous client sought Benito's aid. And tonight as an attendant calledhis name he answered with no other thought than that he would be askedto make a will or soothe some jealous and importunate wife who wanted adivorce without delay. They usually did want them that way. He rose,leisurely enough, and made his way to the door. There, instead of theusual messenger boy, stood Alice.

  "You must come at once," she panted. "Robert has been robbed of animportant letter to the bank. They talk of arresting him.... Ralstonwants you at his office."

  CHAPTER LXIII

  LEES SOLVES A MYSTERY

  In the president's office at the Bank of California, Benito found hisson, pale but intrepid. He was being questioned by William Sharon and apostoffice inspector. Ralston, hands crammed into trousers pockets,paced the room disturbedly.

  "You admit, then, that the envelope was given you?" Sharon was askingtruculently as Benito entered.

  "Yes," said Robert, "I remember seeing such a letter as I packed mymail."

  "Humph!" exclaimed Sharon. He seemed about to ask another question, butthe postal official anticipated him. "Explain what happened after youleft the mail station."

  "Nothing much ... I walked up Washington street as usual. On the edge ofChinatown a woman stopped me ... asked me how to get to Market street."

  "Is that all?"

  "Yes, that's all," said Robert. "She seemed confused by our criss-crossstreets. I had to tell her several times ... to point the way before sheunderstood."

  "And nothing else happened?"

  "Nothing else--except that Mr. Ralston asked me for the letter. Said hewas expecting it.... I searched my bag but couldn't find it."

  "Tell us more about this woman. Give us a description of her."

  "Spanish type," said Robert tersely. "Very pleasant; smiled a lot andhad gold fillings in her teeth. Must have been quite handsome when shewas young."

  The inspector stroked his chin reflectively. "Didn't set the bag down,did you? ... when you pointed out the way, for instance?"

  "Let me see.... Why, yes--I did. I hadn't thought of that...."

  * * * * *

  Captain of Detectives I.W. Lees was making a record for himself amongthe nation's crime-detectors. He was a swarthy little man, implacable asan Indian and as pertinacious on a trail. He never forgot a face and noamount of disguise could hide its identity from his penetrating glance.Without great vision or imagination, he knew criminals as did few othermen
; could reason from cause to effect within certain channels,unerringly. He was heartless, ruthless--some said venal. But he caughtand convicted felons, solved the problems of his office by a doggedperseverance that ignored defeat. For, with a mind essentially tricky,he anticipated tricksters--unless their operations were beyondhis scope.

  It was 10 o'clock at night, but he was still at work upon a case which,up to now, had baffled him--a case of opium smuggling--when Robert andBenito entered. At first he listened to them inattentively. But atRobert's story of the woman, he became electrified.

  "Rose Terranza! Dance hall girl back in the Eldorado days! Queen of theNight Life under half a dozen names! Smiling Rose, some called her. Goodclothes and gold in her teeth! I've her picture--wait a minute." Hepulled a cord; a bell jangled somewhere. An officer entered.

  * * * * *

  Chinatown at midnight. Dark and narrow streets; fat, round paperlanterns here and there above dim doorways; silent forms,soft-shuffling, warily alert.

  "Wait one minee," said Po Lun. "I find 'em door."

  Following the Chinaman were Captain Lees, with his half a dozen "plainclothes men," Benito, Robert and the mail inspector. Presently Po spokeagain. "Jus' alound co'ne'" (corner), he whispered. "Me go ahead. Plittysoon you come. You hea' me makem noise ... allee same cat."

  Lees descried him as he paused before a dimly lighted door. Evidently hewas challenged; gave a countersign. For the door swung back. Po Lunpassed through. Nothing happened for a time. Then a piercing feline wailstabbed through the night.