CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
GOLD NOT ALL-POWERFUL--REMARKABLE GROWTH OF SACRAMENTO--NEW STYLE OFBRINGING A HOTEL INTO NOTICE--A SURPRISING DISCOVERY--DEATH OF A MEXICANHORSE-TAMER--THE CONCERT, AND ANOTHER DISCOVERY--MADEMOISELLE NELINACREATES A SENSATION.
It is said that gold can accomplish anything; and, in some respects, thesaying is full of truth; in some points of view, however, the saying isaltogether wrong. Gold can, indeed, accomplish almost anything in thematerial world--it can purchase stone, and metal, and timber; andmuscles, bones, thews, and sinews, with life in them, to any extent. Itcan go a step further--it can purchase brains, intellect, genius; and,throwing the whole together, material and immaterial, it can cut, andcarve, and mould the world to such an extent that its occupants of fiftyyears ago, were they permitted to return to earth, would find it hard torecognise the scene of their brief existence. But there are things andpowers which gold cannot purchase. That worn-out old _millionnaire_would give tons of it for a mere tithe of the health that yonderploughman enjoys. Youth cannot be bought with gold. Time cannot bepurchased with gold. The prompt obedience of thousands of men and womenmay be bought with that precious metal, but one powerful throb of aloving heart could not be procured by all the yellow gold that ever didor ever will enrich the human family.
But we are verging towards digression. Let us return to the simple ideawith which we intended to begin this chapter--the wonder-working powerof gold. In no country in the wide world, we venture to affirm, hasthis power been exemplified so strikingly as in California. Theknowledge of the discovery of gold was so suddenly and widelydisseminated over the earth, that human beings flowed into theformerly-uninhabited wilderness like a mighty torrent, while thousandsof ships flooded the markets with the necessaries of life. Then goldwas found to be so abundant, and, _at first_, so easily procured, thatthe fever was kept up at white-heat for several years. The result ofthis was, as we have remarked elsewhere, that changes, worthy ofAladdin's lamp or Harlequin's wand, were wrought in the course of a fewweeks, sometimes in a few days.
The city of Sacramento was one of the most remarkable of the manystrange and sudden growths in the country. The river on which it standsis a beautiful stream, from two to three hundred yards wide, andnavigable by large craft to a few miles above the city. The banks, whenour friends were there, were fringed with rich foliage, and the wildtrees of the forest itself stood growing in the streets. The city waslaid out in the form of a square, with streets crossing each other atright angles; a forest of masts along the _embarcadero_ attested thegrowing importance and wealth of the place; and nearly ten thousandinhabitants swarmed in its streets. Many of those streets were composedof canvas tents, or erections scarcely more durable. Yet here, littlemore than a year before, there were only _four thousand_ in the place!
Those who chanced to be in possession of the land here were makingfortunes. Lots, twenty feet by seventy, in the best situations, broughtupwards of 3500 dollars. Rents, too, were enormous. One hotel paid30,000 dollars (6000 pounds) per annum; another, 35,000 dollars. Smallstores fetched ten and twelve thousand dollars a year; while board atthe best hotels was five dollars a day. Truly, if gold was plentiful,it was needed; for the common necessaries of life, though plentiful,were bought and sold at fabulous prices. The circulation of gold wasenormous, and the growth of the city did not suffer a check even for aday, although the cost of building was unprecedented. And thiscommercial prosperity continued in spite of the fact that the place wasunhealthy--being a furnace in summer, and in winter little better than aswamp.
"It's a capital hotel," remarked Captain Bunting to his companions, asthey sat round their little table, enjoying their pipes after dinner; "Iwonder if they make a good thing out of it?"
"Sure, if they don't," said Larry, tilting his chair on its hind legs,and calmly blowing a cloud of smoke towards the roof, "it's a losin'game they're playin', for they sarve out the grub at a tearin' pace."
"They are doing well, I doubt not," said Ned Sinton; "and they deserveto, for the owner--or owners, I don't know how many or few there are--made a remarkable and enterprising start."
"How was that?" asked the captain.
"I heard of it when I was down here with Tom," continued Sinton. "Youmust know that this was the first regular hotel opened in the city, andit was considered so great an event that it was celebrated by salvos ofartillery, and, on the part of the proprietors, by a great unlimitedfeast to all who chose to come."
"What!" cried Larry, "free, gratis, for nothin'?"
"Ay, for nothing. It was done in magnificent style, I assure you. Anyone who chose came and called for what he wanted, and got it at once.The attendance was prompt, and as cheerfully given as though it had beenpaid for. Gin-slings, cocktails, mint-juleps, and brandy-smashes wentround like a circular storm, even champagne flowed like water; andvenison, wild-fowl, salmon, grizzly-bear-steaks, and pastry--all thedelicacies of the season, in short--were literally to be had for theasking. What it cost the spirited proprietors I know not, but certainlyit was a daring stroke of genius that deserved patronage."
"Faix it did," said Larry, emphatically; "and they shall have it, too;--here, waiter, a brandy-smash and a cheroot, and be aisy as to the cost;I think me bank'll stand it."
"What say you to a stroll!" said Ned, rising.
"By all means," replied Captain Bunting, jumping up, and laying down hispipe. Larry preferred to remain where he was; so the two friends lefthim to enjoy his cheroot, and wandered away, where fancy led, to see thetown. There was much to be seen. It required no theatricalrepresentation of life to amuse one in Sacramento at that time. Thewhole city was a vast series of plays in earnest.
Every conceivable species of comedy and farce met the eye at every turn.Costumes the most remarkable, men the most varied and peculiar, andthings the most incomprehensible and unexpected, presented themselves inendless succession. Here a canvas restaurant stood, or, rather leanedagainst a log-store. There a tent spread its folds in juxtaposition toa deck-cabin, which seemed to have walked ashore from a neighbouringbrig, without leave, and had been let out as a grog-shop by way ofpunishment. Chinamen in calico jostled sailors in canvas, or diggers inscarlet flannel shirts, or dandies in broad-cloth and patent-leather, orred Indians in nothing! Bustle, and hurry, and uproar, and jovialityprevailed. A good deal of drinking, too, unfortunately, went on, andthe results were occasional melodramas, and sometimes serious rows.
Tragedies, too, were enacted, but these seldom met the eye; as isusually the case, they were done in the dark.
"What have we here?" cried Captain Bunting, stopping before a largeplacard, and reading. "`Grand concert, this evening--wonderful singer--Mademoiselle Nelina, first appearance--Ethiopian serenaders.' I say,Ned, we must go to this; I've not heard a song for ages that was worthlistening to."
"At what hour?" inquired Ned--"oh! seven o'clock; well, we can strollback to the hotel, have a cup of coffee, and bring Larry O'Neil with us.Come along."
That evening our three adventurers occupied the back seat of a largeconcert-room in one of the most crowded thoroughfares of the town,patiently awaiting the advent of the performers. The room was filled tooverflowing, long before the hour for the commencement of theperformances, with every species of mortal, except woman. Women wereexceedingly rare creatures at that time--the meetings of all sorts werecomposed almost entirely of men, in their varied and motley garbs.
Considering the circumstances in which it was got up, the room was avery creditable one, destitute, indeed, of ornament, but well lighted byan enormous wooden chandelier, full of wax candles, which depended fromthe centre of the ceiling. At the further end of the room was a raisedstage, with foot-lights in front, and three chairs in the middle of it.There was a small orchestra in front, consisting of two fiddles, acornopian, a trombone, a clarionet, and a flute; but at first the ownersof these instruments kept out of sight, wisely reserving themselvesuntil that precise moment when the impatient
audience would--as allaudiences do on similar occasions--threaten to bring down the buildingwith stamping of feet, accompanied with steam-engine-like whistles, andsavage cries of "Music!"
While Ned Sinton and his friends were quietly looking round upon thecrowd, Larry O'Neil's attention was arrested by the conversation of twomen who sat just in front of him. One was a rough-looking miner, in awide-awake and red-flannel shirt; the other was a negro, in a shirt ofblue-striped calico.
"Who be this Missey Nelina?" inquired the negro, turning to hiscompanion.
"I dun know; but I was here last night, an' I'd take my davy, I saw thelittle gal in the ranche of a feller away in the plains, five hundredmiles to the east'ard, two months ago. Her father, poor chap, waskilled by a wild horse."
"How was dat?" inquired the negro, with an expression of great interest.
"Well, it was this way it happened," replied the other, putting a quidof tobacco into his cheek, such as only a sailor would venture tomasticate. "I was up at the diggin's about six months, without gittin'more gold than jist kep' me in life--for, ye see, I was always anunlucky dog--when one day I goes down to my claim, and, at the veryfirst lick, dug up two chunks o' gold as big as yer fists; so I sold myclaim and shovel, and came down here for a spree. Well, as I wassayin', I come to the ranche o' a feller called Bangi, or Bongi, orBungi, or some sort o' bang, with a gi at the end o' 't. He wasclappin' his little gal on the head, when I comed up, and said good-byeto her. I didn't rightly hear what she said; but I was so taken withher pretty face that I couldn't help axin' if the little thing washis'n. `Yees,' says he--for he was a Mexican, and couldn't come roundthe English lingo--`she me darter.' I found the man was goin' to catcha wild horse, so, says I, `I'll go with ye,' an', says he, `come 'long,'so away we went, slappin' over the plains at a great rate, him and me,and a Yankee, a friend o' his and three or four servants, after a droveo' wild horses that had been seen that mornin' near the house. Well,away we went after the wild horses. Oh! it was grand sport! The manhad lent me one of his beasts, an' it went at such a spankin' pace, Icould scarce keep my seat, and had to hold on by the saddle--not bein'used to ridin' much, d'ye see. We soon picked out a horse--asplendid-lookin' feller, with curved neck, and free gallop, and widenostrils. My eye! how he did snort and plunge, when the Mexican threwthe lasso, it went right over his head the first cast, but the wildhorse pulled the rope out o' his grip. `It's all up,' thought I; butnever a bit. The Mexican put spurs to his horse, an' while at fullgallop, made a dive with his body, and actually caught the end o' theline, as it trailed over the ground, and recovered his seat again. Itwas done in a crack; an', I believe, he held on by means of his spurs,which were big enough, I think, to make wheels for a small carronade.Takin' a turn o' the line round the horn of his saddle, he reined in abit, and then gave the spurs for another spurt, and soon after reined inagain--in fact, he jist played the wild horse like a trout, until hewell-nigh choked him; an', in an hour, or less, he was led steamin', andstartin', and jumpin', into the corral, where the man kept his otherhorses."
At this point in the narrative, the cries for music became so deafening,that the sailor was obliged to pause, to the evident annoyance of thenegro, who seemed intensely interested in what he had heard; and, also,to the regret of Larry, who had listened eagerly the whole time. In afew minutes the "music" came in, in the shape of two bald-headedFrenchmen, a wild-looking bearded German, and several lean men, whomight, as far as appearance went, have belonged to almost any nation;and who would have, as far as musical ability went, been repudiated byevery nation, except, perhaps, the Chinese. During the quarter of anhour in which these performers quieted the impatient audience with sweetsounds, the sailor continued his anecdote.
"Well, you see," said he to the negro, while Larry bent forward tolisten, "the Mexican mounted, and raced and spurred him for about anhour; but, just at the last, the wild horse gave a tremendous leap and aplunge, and we noticed the rider fall forward, as if he'd got a sprain.The Yankee an' one o' the servants ran up, and caught the horse by thehead, but its rider didn't move--he was stone dead, and was held in hisseat by the spurs sticking in the saddle-cloth. The last bound musthave ruptured some blood-vessel inside, for there was no sign of hurtupon him anywhere."
"You don' say dat?" said the negro, with a look of horror.
"'Deed do I; an' we took the poor feller home, where his little daughtercried for him as if she'd break her heart. I asked the Yankee what weshould do, but he looked at me somewhat offended like, an' said he was arelation o' the dead man's wife, and could manage the affairs o' thefamily without help; so I bid him good mornin', and went my way. But Ibelieve in my heart he was tellin' a lie, and that he's no right to gohawkin' the poor gal about the country in this fashion."
Larry was deeply interested in this narrative, and felt so strong adisposition to make further inquiries, that he made up his mind toquestion the sailor, and was about to address him when a small belltinkled, the music ceased, and three Ethiopian minstrels, banjo in hand,advanced to the foot-lights, made their bow, and then seated themselveson the three chairs, with that intensity of consummate, impudent, easyfamiliarity peculiar to the ebony sons of song.
"Go it, darkies!" shouted an enthusiastic individual in the middle ofthe room.
"Three cheers for the niggers!" roared a sailor, who had just returnedfrom a twelvemonth's cruise at the mines, and whose delight at theprospect of once more hearing a good song was quite irrepressible.
The audience responded to the call with shouts of laughter, and a cheerthat would have done your heart good to listen to, while the niggersshewed their teeth in acknowledgment of the compliment.
The first song was "Lilly Dale," and the men, who, we need scarcely say,were fictitious negroes, sang it so well that the audience listened withbreathless attention and evident delight, and encored it vociferously.The next song was "Oh! Massa, how he wopped me," a ditty of quite adifferent stamp, but equally popular. It also was encored, as indeedwas every song sting that evening; but the performers had counted onthis. After the third song there was a hornpipe, in the performance ofwhich the dancer's chief aim seemed to be, to shew in what a variety ofcomplex ways he could shake himself to pieces if he chose. Then therewas another trio, and then a short pause, in order duly to prepare thepublic mind for the reception of the great _cantatrice_ MademoiselleNelina. When she was led to the foot-lights by the tallest of the threenegroes, there was a momentary pause, as if men caught their breath;then there was a prolonged cheer of enthusiastic admiration. And littlewonder, for the creature that appeared before these rough miners seemedmore like an angelic visitant than a mortal.
There was nothing strikingly beautiful about the child, but shepossessed that inexpressibly _sweet_ character of face that takes thehuman heart by storm at first sight; and this, added to the fact thatshe was almost the only one of her sex who had been seen for many monthsby any of those present,--that she was fair, blue-eyed, delicate,modestly dressed, and innocent, filled them with an amount of enthusiasmthat would have predisposed them to call a scream melodious, had it beenuttered by Mademoiselle Nelina.
But the voice which came timidly from her lips was in harmony with herappearance. There was no attempt at execution, and the poor child wastoo frightened to succeed in imparting much expression to the simpleballad which she warbled; but there was an inherent richness in thetones of her voice that entranced the ear, and dwelt for weeks andmonths afterwards on the memory of those who heard it that night.
It is needless to add, that all her songs were encored with rapturousapplause. The second song she sang was the popular one, "Erin, mycountry!" and it created quite a _furore_ among the audience, many ofwhom were natives of the Green Isle.
"Oh! ye purty creature! sing it again, do!" yelled an Irishman in thefront seats, while he waved his hat, and cheered in mad enthusiasm. Themultitude shouted, "Encore!" and the song was sung for the third time.
While it was singing, Larry O'Nei
l sat with his hands clasped beforehim, his bosom heaving, and his eyes riveted on the child's face.
"Mr Sinton," he said, in a deep, earnest tone, touching Ned on theshoulder, as the last sweet notes of the air were drowned in the thunderof applause that followed Mademoiselle Nelina off the stage; "MrSinton, I'd lay me life that it's _her_!"
"Who?" inquired Ned, smiling at the serious expression of his comrade'sface.
"Who but Nelly Morgan, av course. She's the born image o' Kate.They're as like as two paise. Sure av it's her, I'll know it, I will;an' I'll make that black thief of a Yankee explain how he comed topossess stolen goods."
Ned and the captain at first expressed doubts as to Larry's being ableto swear to the identity of one whom he had never seen before; but theearnest assurances of the Irishman convinced them that he must be right,and they at once entered into his feelings, and planned, in an eagerundertone, how the child was to be communicated with.
"It won't do," said Ned, "to tax the man right out with his villainy.The miners would say we wanted to get possession of the child to makemoney by her."
"But if the child herself admitted that the man was not her relative!"suggested Captain Bunting.
"Perhaps," returned Ned, "she might at the same time admit that shedidn't like the appearance of the strangers who made such earnestinquiries about her, and prefer to remain with her present guardian."
"Niver fear," said Larry, in a hoarse whisper; "she'll not say that if Itell her I know her sister Kate, and can take her to her. Besides,hasn't she got an Irish heart? an' don't I know the way to touch it?Jist stay where ye are, both o' ye, an' I'll go behind the scenes. Theniggers are comin' on again, so I'll try; maybe there's nobody there butherself."
Before they could reply, Larry was gone. In a few minutes he reachedthe front seats, and, leaning his back against the wall, as if he werewatching the performers, he gradually edged himself into the dark cornerwhere the side curtain shut off the orchestra from the public. To hisgreat satisfaction he found that this was only secured to the wall byone or two nails, which he easily removed, and then, in the midst of anuproarious laugh, caused by a joke of the serenaders, he pushed thecurtain aside, and stood before the astonished gaze of MademoiselleNelina, who sat on a chair, with her hands clasped and resting on herknee. Unfortunately for the success of Larry's enterprise, he alsostood before the curtain-raiser--a broad, sturdy man, in rough miner'scostume--whose back was turned towards him, but whose surprised visageinstantly faced him on hearing the muffled noise caused by his entry.There was a burly negro also in the place, seated on a small stool, wholooked at him with unqualified astonishment.
"Halloo! wot do _you_ want?" exclaimed the curtain-raiser.
"Eh! tare an' ages!" cried Larry, in amazement. "May I niver! Sureit's draimin' I am; an' the ghost o' Bill Jones is comed to see me!"
It was, indeed, no other than Bill Jones who stood revealed before him;but no friendly glance of recognition did his old comrade vouchsafe him.He continued, after the first look of surprise, to frown steadily onthe intruder.
"You've the advantage o' me, young man," said Bill, in a stern, thoughsubdued tone, for he feared to disturb the men on the stage; "moreover,you've comed in where ye've got no right to be. When a man goes wherehe shouldn't ought to, an' things looks as if they wasn't all square, inthem circumstances, blow high or blow low, I always goes straightfor'ard an' shoves him out. If he don't shove easy, why, put on moresteam--that's wot _I_ say."
"But sure ye don't forgit me, Bill!" pleaded Larry, in amazement.
"Well, p'r'aps I don't, an' p'r'aps I do. W'en I last enjoyed thedishonour o' yer acquaintance, ye wos a blackguard. It ain't likely yerimproved, so be good enough to back yer top-sails, and clear out."
Bill Jones pointed, as he spoke, to the opening through which Larry hadentered, but, suddenly changing his mind, he said, "Hold on; there's aback door, an' it'll be easier to kick you through that than through theconsart-room."
So saying, Bill seized Larry O'Neil by the collar, and led thatindividual, in a state of helpless and wondering consternation, througha back door, where, however, instead of kicking him out, he releasedhim, and suddenly changed his tone to an eager whisper.
"Oh! Larry, lad, I'm glad to see ye. Wherever did ye come from? I'veno time to speak. Uncle Ned's jist buried, and Jim Crow comes on inthree minutes. I had to pretend, ye know, 'cause it wouldn't do to letJim see I know'd ye--that wos him on the stool--I know wot brought yehere--an' I've fund out who _she_ is. Where d'ye stop?"
Larry's surprise just permitted him to gasp out the words "City Hotel,"when a roar of laughter and applause met their ears, followed by thetinkle of a small bell. Bill sprang through the doorway, and slammedthe door in his old comrade's face.
It would be difficult to say, looking at that face at that particulartime, whether the owner thereof was mad or drunk--or both--so strangelydid it wrinkle and contort as it gradually dawned upon its owner thatBill Jones, true to his present profession, was acting a part; that heknew about the mystery of Mademoiselle Nelina; was now acquainted withhis, (Larry's), place of abode; and would infallibly find him out afterthe concert was over. As these things crossed his mind, Larry smote histhigh so often and so vigorously, that he ran the risk of being taken upfor unwarrantably discharging his revolver in the streets, and hewhistled once or twice so significantly, that at least five stray dogsanswered to the call. At last he hitched up the band of his trousers,and, hastening round to the front door, essayed to re-enter theconcert-room.
"Pay here, please," cried the money-taker, in an extremely nasal tone,as he passed the little hole in the wall.
"I've paid already," answered Larry.
"Shew your check, then."
"Sure I don't know what that is."
The doorkeeper smiled contemptuously, and shut down with a bang the barthat kept off the public. Larry doubled his fist, and flushed crimson;then he remembered the importance of the business he had on hand, andquietly drew the requisite sum from his leather purse.
"Come along," said he to Ned Sinton, on re-entering the room. "I'vesee'd her; an' Bill Jones, too!"
"Bill Jones!" cried Ned and the captain simultaneously.
"Whist!" said Larry; "don't be makin' people obsarve us. Come alonghome; it's all right--I'll tell ye all about it when we're out."
In another minute the three friends were in the street, conversingeagerly and earnestly as they hastened to their quarters through thethronged and noisy streets of Sacramento.