Port O' Gold Page 2

  "Why so troubled, madre mia?" The little hand of Inez stole into hermother's reassuringly. "Is it that you fear for our Benito when he ridesamong the Gringos of the puebla?"

  Her dark crowned and exquisite head rose proudly and her eyes flashed asshe watched her brother riding with the grace of splendid horsemanshiptoward the distant town of Yerba Buena. "He can take care of himself,"she ended with, a toss of her head.

  "To be sure, my little one," the Dona Windham answered smiling. No doubtit was a foolish apprehension she decided. If only the Dona Briones wholived on a ranchita near the bay-shore did not gossip so of theAmericano games of chance. And if only she might know what took Benitothere so frequently.

  * * * * *

  Benito spurred his horse toward the puebla. A well-filled purse jingledin his pocket and now and then he tossed a silver coin to someimportuning Indian along the road. As he passed the little ranch-houseof Dona Briones he waved his hat gaily in answer to her invitation tostop. Benito called her Tia Juana. Large and motherly she was, a womanof untiring energy who, all alone cultivated the ranchito which suppliedmilk, butter, eggs and vegetables to ships which anchored in the cove ofYerba Buena. She was the friend of all sick and unfortunate beings, thesecret ally of deserting sailors whom she often hid from searchingparties. Benito was her special favorite and now she sighed and shookher head as he rode on. She had heard of his losses at the gringo gamecalled "pokkere." She mistrusted it together with all other alienmachinations.

  Benito reached the little hamlet dreaming in the sun, a welter ofscrambled habitations. There was the little ship's cabin, called KentHall, where dwelt that genial spirit, Nathan Spear, his father's friend.Nearby was the dwelling, carpenter and blacksmith shop of Calvert Davis;the homes of Victor Pruden, French savant and secretary to GovernorAlvarado; Thompson the hide trader who married Concepcion Avila,reigning beauty of her day; Stephen Smith, pioneer saw-miller, whobrought the first pianos to California.

  Where a spring gushed forth and furnished water to the ships, JuanFuller had his washhouse. Within a stone's throw was the grist mill ofDaniel Sill where a mule turned, with the frequent interruptions of hisbalky temperament, a crude and ponderous treadmill. Grain laden ox-cartsstood along the road before it.

  Farther down was Finch's, better known as John the Tinker's bowlingalley; Cooper's groggery, nicknamed "Jack the Sailor's," Vioget's house,later to be Yerba Buena's first hotel. The new warehouse of WilliamLeidesdorff stood close to the waterline and, at the head of the plaza,the customs house built by Indians at the governor's order looked downon the shipping.

  Benito reined his horse as he reached the Plaza where a dozen othermounts were tethered and left his steed to crop the short grass withoutthe formality of hitching. He remembered how, nine years ago, Don JacobPrimer Leese had given a grand ball to celebrate the completion of hiswooden casa, the first of its kind in Yerba Buena. There had been musicand feasting with barbecued meats and the firing of guns to commemoratethe fourth of July which was the birth of Americano independence. Longago Leese had moved his quarters farther from the beach and sold hisfamous casa to the Hudson's Bay company. Half perfunctorily, youngWindham made his way there, entered and sat down in the big trading roomwhere sailormen were usually assembled to discourse profanely of theperils of the sea. Benito liked to hear them and to listen to thedrunken boasts of Factor William Rae, who threatened that his companywould drive all Yankee traders out of California. Sometimes Spear wouldbe there, sardonically witty, drinking heavily but never befuddled byhis liquor. But today the place was silent, practically deserted soBenito, after a glass of fiery Scotch liquor with the factor, made hisway into the road again. There a hand fell on his shoulder and Spear'shearty voice saluted him:

  "How fares it at the ranch, Camerado?"

  "Moderately," the young man answered, "for my mother waits impatientlythe coming of my father. She is very lonely since my uncle died. ThoughInez tries to comfort her, she, too, is apprehensive. The time set by myfather for home-coming is long past."

  "It is the way of women," Spear said gently. "Give them my respects. Ifyou ride toward home I will accompany you a portion of the way."

  Benito turned an almost furtive glance on his companion. "Not yet," ...he answered hastily, "a thousand pardons, senor. I have othererrands here."

  He nodded half impatiently and made his way along the embarcadero. Spearsaw him turn into the drinking place of Cooper.

  A stranger caught Spear's glance and smiled significantly. "I saw thelad last night at poker with a crowd that's not above a crooked deal....Someone should stop him." In the voice was tentative suggestion.

  "I've no authority," Spear answered shortly. He turned his back upon theother and strode toward the plaza.

  CHAPTER II

  THE GAMBLED PATRIMONY

  The stranger took his way toward the waterfront and into "Jack theSailor's." Cooper, who had earned this nickname, stood behind a counterof rough boards polishing its top with a much soiled towel. He hailedthe newcomer eagerly. "Hello, Alvin Potts! What brought you here? Andhow is all at Monterey?"

  "All's well enough," said Potts, concisely. He glanced about. Severalcrude structures, scarcely deserving the name of tables, were centers ofinterest for rings of rough and ill-assorted men. There wereloud-voiced, bearded fellows from the whaler's crew. In tarpaulins andcaps pulled low upon their brows; swarthy Russians with oily, brutishfaces and slow movements--relics of the abandoned colony at Fort Ross;suave, soft-spoken Spaniards in broad-brimmed hats, braided short coatsand laced trousers tucked into shining boots; vaqueros with coloredhandkerchiefs about their heads and sashes around their middles. A fewAmericans were sprinkled here and there. Usually one player at eachtable was of the sleek and graceful type, which marks the gambler. Andusually he was the winner. Now and then a man threw down his cards,pushed a little pile of money to the center of the table and shuffledout. Cooper passed between them, serving tall, black bottles from whichmen poured their potions according to impulse; they did not drink inunison. Each player snatched a liquid stimulus when the need arose. Andone whose shaky nerves required many of these spurs was young Benito.

  Potts observed the pale face and the hectic, burning eyes with afrowning disapproval. Presently he drew John Cooper to one side.

  "He's no business here, that lad ... you know it, Jack," Potts said,accusingly. The saloon keeper threw wide his arms in a significantgesture.

  "He won't stay away ... I've told him half a dozen times. No one canreason with that headstrong fool."

  "Who's that he's playing with?" asked Potts. "I mean the dark one with ascar."

  An impressive and outstanding figure was the man Potts designated.Stocky, sinister of eye and with a mouth whose half-sardonic smile drewthe lips a little out of line, he combed his thick black hair now andthen with delicate, long-fingered hands. They had a deftness and alightning energy, those fingers with their perfectly groomed nails,which boded little good to his opponents. He sat back calmly in strangecontrast to the feverish uncontrol of other players. Now and then heflashed a swift glance round the circle of his fellow players. Beforehim was a heap of gold and silver. They watched him deal with theuncanny skill of a conjurer before Jack Cooper answered.

  "That's Aleck McTurpin from Australia. Thought you knew him."

  "One of the Sydney coves?"

  "Not quite so loud," the other cautioned hastily. "They call himthat--behind his back. But who's to tell? I'd like to get the lad out ofhis clutches well enough."

  "Think I'll watch the game," Potts said, and sauntered to the table. Helaid a friendly hand on Windham's shoulder. Benito's pile of coin wasnearly gone. McTurpin dealt. It was a jack-pot, evidently, for a heavystake of gold and silver was upon the center of the board. Benito's handshook as he raised his cards. He reached forth and refilled his glass,gulping the contents avidly.

  "Dos cartos," he replied in Spanish to the dealer's inquiry. Pottsglanced at the three cards which B
enito had retained. Each was a king.

  The young man eyed his first draw with a slight frown and seemed tohesitate before he lifted up the second. Then a little sucking gasp camefrom his throat.

  "Senor," he began as McTurpin eyed him curiously, "I have little left towager. Luck has been my enemy of late. Yet," he smiled a tremblinglittle smile, "I hold certain cards which give me confidence. I shouldlike to play a big stake--once, before I leave--"

  "How big?" asked McTurpin, coldly, but his eye was eager.

  The Spanish-American faced him straightly. "As big as you like, amigo... if you will accept my note."

  McTurpin's teeth shut with a click. "What security, young fellow?" hedemanded.

  "My ranch," replied Benito. "It is worth, they say, ten thousand of yourdollars."

  McTurpin covered his cards with his hands. "You want to lay me thisranch against--what?"

  "Five thousand dollars--that is fair enough," Benito answered. He wastrembling with excitement. McTurpin watched him hawk-like, seeming toconsider. "Bring us ink and paper, Jack," he called to Cooper, and whenthe latter had complied, he wrote some half a dozen lines upon a sheet.

  "Sign that. Get two witnesses ... you, Jack, and this fellow here," heindicated Potts imperiously. He laid his cards face down upon the tableand extracted deftly from some inner pocket a thick roll of greenbacks.Slowly, almost meticulously, he counted them before the gaping tablefulof players. Fifty hundred-dollar bills.

  "American greenbacks," he spoke crisply. "A side bet with our friend,the Senor Windham." He shoved the money toward the center of the table,slightly apart from the rest.

  Benito waveringly picked up the pen. It shook in his unsteady fingers."Wait," Potts pleaded. But the young man brooked no intervention. With aflourish he affixed his signature. McTurpin picked up the pen as Benitodropped it. "Put your name on as a witness," he demanded of the host."Jack the Sailor" shook his head. "I've no part in this," he said, andturned his back upon them. "Nor I," Potts answered to a similarinvitation.

  McTurpin took the paper. "Well, it doesn't matter. You've all seen himsign it: You ... and you ... and you." His finger pointed to a trio ofthe nearest players, and their nods sufficed him, evidently. He weightedthe contract with a gold-piece from his own plethoric pile.

  "Show down! Show down!" cried the others. Triumphantly Benito laid fivecards upon the table. Four of them were kings. A little cry ofsatisfaction arose, for sympathy was with the younger player. McTurpinsat unmoved. Then he threw an ace upon the table. Followed it with asecond. Then a third. And, amid wondering murmurs, a fourth.

  He reached out his hand for the stakes. Benito sat quite still. Thevictorious light had gone out of his eyes, but not a muscle moved. Onemight have thought him paralyzed or turned to stone by his misfortune.McTurpin's hand closed almost stealthily upon the paper. There was asmile of cool and calculating satisfaction on his thin lips as he drewthe stake toward him.

  Then with an electrifying suddenness, Benito sprang upon him. "Cheat!"he screamed. "You fleeced me like a robber. I knew. I understood it whenyou looked at me like that."

  Quick as McTurpin was in parrying attack--for he had frequent need ofsuch defense--the onslaught of Benito found him unprepared. He went overbackward, the young man's fingers on his throat. From the overturnedtable money rattled to the floor and rolled into distant corners.Hastily the non-combatants sought a refuge from expected bullets. Butno pistol barked. McTurpin's strength far overmatched that of the other.Instantly he was on his feet. Benito's second rush was countered by ablow upon the jaw. The boy fell heavily.

  McTurpin smoothed his ruffled plumage and picked up the scattered coins."Take the young idiot home," he said across his shoulder, as he strodeout. "Pour a little whisky down his throat. He isn't hurt."

  CHAPTER III

  THE GRINGO SHIPS

  Government was but a name in Yerba Buena. A gringo engineer namedFremont with a rabble of adventurers had overthrown the valiant Vallejoat Sonora and declared a California Republic. He had spiked the cannonat the Presidio. And now a gringo sloop-of-war was in the bay, some saidwith orders to reduce the port. Almost simultaneously an English frigatecame and there were rumors of a war between the Anglo-Saxon nations.

  The prefect, Don Rafael Pinto, had already joined the fleeing GovernorCastro. Commandante Francisco Sanchez, having sent his soldiers toaugment the Castro forces in the south, was without a garrison and hadretired to his rancho.

  Nevertheless, had the Senora Windham, with her son and daughter, calledupon Sub-prefect Guerrero in hope of justice. Her rancho was being takenfrom her. Already McTurpin had pre-empted a portion of the grant andonly the armed opposition of the Windham vaqueros prevented an entiredispossession.

  Though Guerrero listened, courteous and punctilious, he had obviously nopower to afford relief. He was a curiously nervous man of polishedmanners whose eyelids twitched at intervals with a sort of slow St.Vitus' dance.

  "What can I do, Senora?" with a blend of whimsicality and desperation."I am an official without a staff. And Sanchez a commander stripped ofhis soldados." He stepped to the door with them and looked down upon thedancing, rippling waters of the bay, where two ships rode.

  "Let these gringos fight it out together. This McTurpin is an Inglese,I am told, from their far colony across the sea. If the Americanostriumph take your claim to them. If not, God save you, my senora.I cannot."

  Don Guillermo Richardson, the former harbormaster, came up the hill asDona Anita emerged from the Alcalde's office. He was a friend of herhusband--a gringo--but trusted by the Spanish Californians, many of whomhe had befriended. To him Mrs. Windham turned half desperately,confessing in a rush of words her family's plight. "What is to become ofus?" she questioned passionately. "Ah, that my Roberto were here! Hewould know how to deal with these desperadoes." She gestured angrilytoward the sloop-of-war which rode at anchor in the Bay.

  "You have nothing to fear, my friend," returned Richardson with a traceof asperity. "Commodore Sloat is a gentleman. He is, I understand, toseize Monterey and raise the the American flag there tomorrow. Yet hisinstructions are that Californians are to be shown every courtesy."

  "And our rancho?" cried the boy. "Will the Americano Capitan restore itto us, think you, Don Guillermo?"

  "I know not," said the other sadly. "You should have thought of thatbefore you gambled it away, my son."

  Benito hung his head. Richardson passed on and the trio made their waytoward the beach. There they found Nathan Spear in excited converse withJohn Cooper and William Leidesdorff.

  They were discussing the probability of an occupation by the Americanmarines. "If they come ashore," said Leidesdorff, "I'll invite them tomy new house. There's plenty of rum for all, and we'll drink a toast toFremont and the California Republic as well."

  "Hurrah! Hurrah!" came a cheer from several bystanders.

  "I invite you all," cried Leidesdorff, waving his hands and almostdancing in his eagerness. "Every man-jack of you in all Yerba Buena."

  "How about the ladies, Leidesdorff?" called out a sailor.

  "Ah, forgive me, Senora, Senorita!" cried the Dane remorsefully. Heswept off his wide-brimmed hat with an effort, for he had a fashion ofjamming it very tightly upon his head. He laid a hand enthusiasticallyupon the shoulders of both Spear and Cooper. "It grows better andbetter. Tomorrow, if the Captain is willing," he jerked his head towardthe Portsmouth, "tomorrow evening we shall have a grand ball. It shallcelebrate the day of independence."

  "But tomorrow is the eighth of July," said Cooper.

  "What matter?" Leidesdorff exclaimed, now thoroughly enthusiastic. "It'sthe spirit of the thing that counts, my friends."

  A crowd was assembling. Mrs. Windham and her daughter drew instinctivelyaside. Benito stood between them and the growing throng as if to shieldthem from a battery of curious glances.

  "Will the ladies accept?" asked Leidesdorff with another exaggeratedsalute.

  Senora Windham, haughty and aloof, had fram
ed a stiff refusal, but herdaughter caught her hand. "Do not antagonize them, mother," she said inan undertone. "Let us meet this Gringo Commandante of the ship.Perhaps," she smiled archly, "it is not beyond the possibilities I maypersuade him into giving aid."

  The elder woman hesitated, glanced inquiringly at Nathan Spear who stoodbeside them. He nodded. "The ladies will be pleased," he answered intheir stead. Another cheer met this announcement.

  CHAPTER IV

  AMERICAN OCCUPATION

  Yerba Buena awoke to the sunrise of July 8, 1846, with a spirit offestive anticipation and a certain relief.

  Today the American sloop-of-war would land its sailors and marines totake possession of the port. Today the last remaining vestige of theLatin's dominance would end. A strange flag, curiously gay with stripesand stars, would fly above the customs house; strange men in uniforms ofblue, and golden braid, would occupy the seats of power. Even the nameof Yerba Buena would be altered, it was said. New Boston probably wouldbe its title.

  Early morning brought ox-carts laden with gay, curious Spanish ladiesfrom surrounding ranches, piquant eager senoritas with vivaciousgestures of small hands and fluttering fans; senoras plump and placid,slower in their movements and with brooding eyes. They wore theirlaciest mantillas, silkiest gowns and daintiest footwear to impress thealien invader. And, beside their equipages, like outriders in thecortege of a queen, caballeros and vaqueros sat their caracoling steeds.