Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Golden Dream, by R.M. Ballantyne
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Robert Michael Ballantyne was born in 1825 and died in 1894. He waseducated at the Edinburgh Academy, and in 1841 he became a clerk withthe Hudson Bay Company, working at the Red River Settlement in NorthenCanada until 1847, arriving back in Edinburgh in 1848. The letters hehad written home were very amusing in their description of backwoodslife, and his family publishing connections suggested that he shouldconstruct a book based on these letters. Three of his most enduringbooks were written over the next decade, "The Young Fur Traders","Ungava", "The Hudson Bay Company", and were based on his experienceswith the H.B.C. In this period he also wrote "The Coral island" and"Martin Rattler", both of these taking place in places never visited byBallantyne. Having been chided for small mistakes he made in thesebooks, he resolved always to visit the places he wrote about. Withthese books he became known as a great master of literature intended forteenagers. He researched the Cornish Mines, the London Fire Brigade,the Postal Service, the Railways, the laying down of submarine telegraphcables, the construction of light-houses, the light-ship service, thelife-boat service, South Africa, Norway, the North Sea fishing fleet,ballooning, deep-sea diving, Algiers, and many more, experiencing thelives of the men and women in these settings by living with them forweeks and months at a time, and he lived as they lived.
He was a very true-to-life author, depicting the often squalid scenes heencountered with great care and attention to detail. His young readerslooked forward eagerly to his next books, and through the 1860s and1870s there was a flow of books from his pen, sometimes four in a year,all very good reading. The rate of production diminished in the lastten or fifteen years of his life, but the quality never failed.
He published over ninety books under his own name, and a few books forvery young children under the pseudonym "Comus".
For today's taste his books are perhaps a little too religious, and whatwe would nowadays call "pi". In part that was the way people wrote inthose days, but more important was the fact that in his days at the RedRiver Settlement, in the wilds of Canada, he had been a littledissolute, and he did not want his young readers to be unmindful of howthey ought to behave, as he felt he had been.
Some of his books were quite short, little over 100 pages. These booksformed a series intended for the children of poorer parents, having lesspocket-money. These books are particularly well-written and researched,because he wanted that readership to get the very best possible fortheir money. They were published as six series, three books in eachseries.
Re-created as an e-Text by Nick Hodson, August 2003.
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THE GOLDEN DREAM, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.
CHAPTER ONE.
ADVENTURES IN THE FAR WEST.
THE CAUSE OF THE WHOLE AFFAIR.
Ned Sinton gazed at the scene before him with indescribable amazement!He had often witnessed strange things in the course of his short thoughchequered life, but he had never seen anything like this. Many a dreamof the most extravagant nature had surrounded his pillow with creaturesof curious form and scenes of magic beauty, but never before, either byactual observation or in nightly vision, had Ned Sinton beheld a sceneso wonderful as that which now lay spread out before him.
Ned stood in the centre of a cavern of vast dimensions--so vast, and sofull of intense light, that instead of looking on it as a huge cave, hefelt disposed to regard it as a small world. The sides of this cavernwere made of pure gold, and the roof--far above his head--was spangledall over with glittering points, like a starry sky. The ground, too,and, in short, everything within the cave, was made of the same preciousmetal. Thousands of stalactites hung from the roof like golden icicles.Millions of delicate threads of the same material also depended fromthe star-spangled vault, each thread having a golden ball at the end ofit, which, strange to say, was transparent, and permitted a brightflame within to shine through, and shed a yellow lustre oversurrounding objects. All the edges, and angles, and points of theirregularly-formed walls were of burnished gold, which reflected therays of these pendant lamps with dazzling brilliancy, while the broadmasses of the frosted walls shone with a subdued light. Magnificentcurtains of golden filigree fell in rich voluminous folds on thepavement, half concealing several archways which led into smallercaverns, similar to the large one. Altogether it was a scene ofluxurious richness and splendour that is utterly indescribable.
But the thing that amazed Ned Sinton most was, that the company ofwell-dressed ladies and gentlemen who moved about in these splendidhalls, and ate golden ices, or listened to the exquisite strains ofmusic that floated on the atmosphere, were all as yellow as guineas!Ned could by no means understand this. In order to convince himselfthat there was no deception in the matter, he shook hands with severalof the people nearest to him, and found that they were cold and hard asiron; although, to all appearance, they were soft and pliable, and couldevidently move about with perfect freedom.
Ned was very much puzzled indeed. One would have thought he must havebelieved himself to be dreaming. Not a bit of it. He knew perfectlywell that he was wide-awake. In fact, a doubt upon that point nevercrossed his mind for a moment. At length he resolved to ask the meaningof it all, and, observing a stout old gentleman, with a bland smile onhis yellow countenance, in the act of taking a pinch of golden snufffrom a gold snuff-box, he advanced and accosted him.
"Pray, sir," began Ned, modestly, "may I take the liberty of asking youwhat is the meaning of all this?"
"All what, sir?" inquired the old gentleman, in a deep metallic voice.
"This golden cave, with its wonderful lamps, and especially these goldenpeople; and--excuse me, sir, for remarking on the circumstance--you seemto be _made of gold_ yourself. I have often heard the term applied toextremely rich persons, but I really never expected to see a man who wasliterally `worth his weight in gold.'"
The old gentleman laughed sarcastically at this sally, and took anenormous pinch of gold-dust.
As he did not seem inclined to be communicative, however, Ned saidagain, "What is the meaning of it all? can you explain what has doneit?"
Smiling blandly at his interrogator, this gentleman of precious metalplaced his head a little on one side, and tapped the lid of hissnuff-box, but said nothing. Then he suddenly exclaimed, at the fullpitch of his voice, "California, my boy! That's what's done it, Edward!_California for ever_! Ned, hurrah!"
As the deep tones of his voice rang through the star-spangled vault, thecompany took up the shout, and with "California for ever!" made thecavern ring again. In the excess of their glee the gentlemen took offtheir hats, and the ladies their wreaths and turbans, and threw them inthe air. As many of them failed to catch these portions of costume intheir descent, the clatter caused by their fall on the golden pavementwas very striking indeed.
"Come here, my lad," said the old gentleman, seizing Ned Sinton by thearm, and laughing heartily as he dragged him towards an immense mirrorof burnished gold; "look at yourself there."
Ned looked, and started back with horror on observing that he himselfhad been converted into gold. There could be no mistake whatever aboutit. There he stood, staring at himself like a yellow statue. Hisshooting-jacket was richly chased with alternate stripes of burnishedand frosted work; the buttons on his vest shone like stars; hispantaloons were striped like the coat; his hair was a mass ofdishevelled filigree; and his hands, when, in the height of his horror,he clasped them together, ran
g like a brass-founder's anvil.
For a few moments he stood before the mirror speechless. Then a feelingof intense indignation unaccountably took possession of him, and heturned fiercely on the old gentleman, exclaiming--
"_You_ have done this, sir! What do you mean by it? eh!"
"You're quite mistaken, Ned. I didn't do it. California has done it.Ha! ha! my boy, you're done for! Smitten with the yellow fever, Neddy?California for ever! See here--"
As he spoke, the old gentleman threw out one leg and both arms, andbegan to twirl round, after the fashion of a peg-top, on one toe. Atfirst he revolved slowly, but gradually increased his speed, until nopart of him could be distinctly observed. Ned Sinton stood aghast.Suddenly the old gentleman shot upwards like a rocket, but he did notquit the ground; he merely elongated his body until his head stuckagainst the roof of the cave. Then he ceased to revolve, and remainedin the form of a golden stalactite--his head surrounded by stars and histoe resting on the ground!
While Ned stood rooted to the spot, turning the subject over in hismind, and trying to find out by what process of chemical or mechanicalaction so remarkable a transformation could have been accomplished, hebecame aware that his uncle, old Mr Shirley, was standing in the middleof the cave regarding him with a look of mingled sarcasm and pity. Heobserved, too, that his uncle was not made of gold, like the peoplearound him, but was habited in a yeomanry uniform. Mr Shirley had beena yeoman twenty years before his nephew was born. Since that time hisproportions had steadily increased, and he was now a man of veryconsiderable rotundity--so much so, that his old uniform fitted him withexcessive tightness; the coat would by no means button across hiscapacious chest, and, being much too short, shewed a very undignifiedamount of braces below it.
"Uncle!" exclaimed Ned Sinton, rushing up to his relative, "what _can_be the meaning of all this? Everybody seems to be mad. I think youmust be mad yourself, to come here such a figure as that; and I'm quitesure _I_ shall go mad if you don't explain it to me. What _does_ it allmean?"
"California," replied Mr Shirley, becoming more sarcastic in expressionand less pitiful.
"Why, that's what everybody cries," exclaimed Ned, who was now drivenalmost to desperation. "My dear uncle, do look like yourself andexercise some of your wonted sagacity. Just glance round at the caveand the company, all made of gold, and look at me--gold too, if notpinchbeck, but I'm not a good-enough judge of metals to tell which.What _has_ done it, uncle? _Do_ look in a better humour, and tell mehow it has happened."
"California," replied Mr Shirley.
"Yes, yes; I know that. California seems to be everything here. Buthow has it come about? Why are _you_ here, and what has brought mehere?"
"California," repeated Mr Shirley.
"Uncle, I'll go deranged if you don't answer me. What do you mean?"
"California," reiterated Mr Shirley.
At the same moment a stout golden lady with a filigree turban shouted,"for ever!" at the top of a very shrill voice, and immediately thecompany took up the cry again, filling the cave with deafening sounds.
Ned Sinton gave one look of despair at his relative--then turned andfled.
"Put him out," shouted the company. "Down with the intruder!"
Ned cast a single glance backward, and beheld the people pushing andbuffeting his uncle in a most unceremonious manner. His helmet wasknocked down over his eyes, and the coat--so much too small for him--wasrendered an easy fit by being ripped up behind to the neck. Ned couldnot stand this. He was stout of limb and bold as a lion, although notnaturally addicted to fighting, so he turned suddenly round and flew tothe rescue. Plunging into the midst of the struggling mass of goldencreatures, Ned hit out right and left like a young Hercules, and hisblows rang upon their metal chests and noses like the sound ofsledge-hammers, but without any other effect.
Suddenly he experienced an acute sensation of pain, and--awoke to findhimself hammering the bed-post with bleeding knuckles, and his unclestanding beside his bed chuckling immensely.
"O uncle," cried Ned, sitting up in his bed, and regarding his knuckleswith a perplexed expression of countenance, "I've had _such_ anextraordinary dream!"
"Ay, Ned," interrupted his uncle, "and all about California, I'll bebound."
"Why, how did you guess that?"
"It needs not a wizard to guess that, lad. I've observed that you haveread nothing in the newspapers for the last three months but the newsfrom the gold-diggings of California. Your mind has of late beenconstantly running on that subject, and it is well-known that day-dreamsare often reproduced at night. Besides, I heard you shouting the wordin your sleep as I entered your room. Were you fighting withgold-diggers, eh! or Indians?"
"Neither, uncle; but I was fighting with very strange beings, I assureyou, and--"
"Well, well," interrupted Mr Shirley, "never mind the dream just now;we shall have it at some other time. I have important matters to talkover with you, my boy. Morton has written to me. Get up and come downas quickly as you can, and we'll discuss the matter over our breakfast."
As the door closed after the retreating form of his uncle, Edward Sintonleaped out of bed and into his trousers. During his toilet he wonderedwhat matters of importance Mr Shirley could intend to discuss with him,and felt half inclined to fear, from the grave expression of his uncle'sface when he spoke of it, that something of a disagreeable natureawaited him. But these thoughts were intermingled with reminiscences ofthe past night. His knuckles, too, kept constantly reminding him of hisstrange encounter, and, do what he would, he could not banish from hismind the curious incidents of that remarkable golden dream.