Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone Page 28
left him; but itwas evident he was sinking rapidly.
"Stormy," said I, "what would you wish me to do to the man, who hasbrought you to this?"
"Nothing," he answered; "he's a bad man--but let him go. Promise methat you will not try to teach him manners--let the Lord do it for us."
"All right, comrade," said I, "your wishes shall be obeyed: for I cannotharm him now. He has gone."
"I'm glad of that," said the dying man, "for it shows that he knewhimself to be in the wrong. By his running away, others will know ittoo; and will not say that I desarved what I've got."
"But he has _not_ run away," said I, "he is dead. I went to the house,where you met him yesterday. I found him there. Before I came out, hedied."
Stormy's expressive features were lit up with a peculiar smile.
It was evident that he comprehended the full import of my ambiguousspeech, though he made no comment, further than what gave me tounderstand, that his object, in making me promise not to harm Red Ned,was only from fear that I might get the worst of it. I could tell,however, by the expression upon his features, that he was rather pleasedI had not left to the Lord the work of teaching manners to his murderer.
I remained by the bedside of my dying comrade--painfully awaiting thedeparture of his spirit. My vigil was not a protracted one. He diedearly in the afternoon of that same day, on which his murder had beenavenged.
There was no inquest held, either upon his body, or that of hisassassin. Perhaps the latter might have been brought to trial, but forthe judgment that had already fallen upon him. This being deemed justby all the respectable people in the place, there were no farther stepstaken in the matter, than that of burying the bodies of the two men--whohad thus fallen a sacrifice to the play of unfortunate passions.
I have seen many gold-diggers undergo interment, by being simply rolledup in their blankets, and thrust under ground without any ceremonywhatever, all this, too, only an hour or two after the breath haddeparted from their bodies. Such, no doubt, would have been the mannerin which the body of Stormy Jack would have been disposed of, had therenot been by him in his last hour a friend, who had been acquainted withhim long, and respected him much.
I could not permit his remains to be thus rudely interred. I had a goodcoffin made to contain them; and gave the old sailor the mostrespectable burial I had ever seen among the miners of California.
Poor Stormy! Often, when thinking of him, I am reminded of how much thedestiny of an individual may be influenced by circumstances.
Stormy Jack was naturally a man of powerful intellect. He possessedgenerosity, courage, a love of justice, and truth--in short, all therequisites that constitute a noble character. But his intellect hadremained wholly uncultivated; and circumstances had conducted him to acalling, where his good qualities were but little required, and lessappreciated. Had he been brought up and educated to fill some higherstation in society, history might have carried his name--which to me wasunknown--far down into posterity. In the proportion that Nature hadbeen liberal to him, Fortune had been unkind; and he died, as he hadlived, only Stormy Jack--unknown to, and uncared for, by the world hemight have adorned.
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After having performed the last sad obsequies over his body, I recalledthe advice he had given me, along with his gold, to return to Lenore.
I resolved to follow a counsel so consonant with my own desires. Ifound no difficulty in disposing of my mining shares; and this done, Imade arrangements for travelling by the stage conveyance then runningbetween Sonora and Stockton.
Before leaving the Stanislaus, I paid a visit to the young couple, whohad been entrusted with the care of Leary's child.
My object in going to see them was to learn, if possible, something moreof that gentleman's doings in Australia.
It was true, they had said, that they were unacquainted with him there;but there were several questions I wished to ask them--by which I hopedto learn something concerning my mother, and whether she had followedLeary to the colonies.
I found the guardians of the child still living where I had seen them,on the day the murderer was executed. The orphan was no longer in theirkeeping. They had sent it to its grandparents in Sydney, in charge of amerchant--who had left California for the Australian colonies some weeksbefore.
Though I obtained from the man and his wife all the information theywere capable of giving, I learnt but little of what I desired to know.They thought it likely, that in San Francisco, I might hear more aboutthe subject of my enquiries. They knew a man named Wilson--who had comefrom Sydney in the same ship with them; and who was now keeping apublic-house in San Francisco. Wilson, they believed, had been wellacquainted with Mathews--for this was the name which Leary had assumedin the colonies.
Such was the scant information I succeeded in obtaining from the friendsof the late Mrs Leary; and with only this to guide me, I commenced myjourney for the capital of California.
Volume Two, Chapter IX.
A ROUGH RIDE.
The stage, by which I travelled from Sonora to Stockton, was nothingmore than a large open waggon, drawn by four Mexican horses.
We started at six o'clock in the morning, on a journey of eighty-fourmiles. This we should have to perform before four o'clock in theafternoon of the same day--in order to catch the steamer, which, at thathour, was to start from Stockton for San Francisco.
Notwithstanding that the road over most of the route was in reality noroad at all, but an execrable path, we made the eighty-four miles withinthe time prescribed: for the stage arrived at Stockton more than twentyminutes before the time appointed for the sailing of the steamer!
In spite of this rapidity of transit, I did not at all enjoy the journeybetween Sonora and Stockton. I was all the time under an impressionthat my life was in imminent danger; and, as I was at last on my way toLenore, I did not wish to be killed by the overturning of a Californianstage coach--behind four half-wild horses, going at the top of theirspeed.
Sometimes we would be rushing down a steep hill, when, to keep thehorses out of the way of the waggon they were drawing, the driver wouldstand up on his box, and fling the "silk" at them with all the energy hecould command. On such occasions there would be moments when not awheel could be seen touching the ground; and not unfrequently thevehicle would bound through the air, to a distance equalling its ownlength!
We were fortunate enough to reach Stockton, without breaking either thewheels of the waggon, or the bones of any of the passengers, which to meat the time seemed something miraculous.
I do not relish describing scenes of a sanguinary character; but, togive the reader some idea of the state of society in California, at thetime I write of, I shall mention a circumstance that transpired duringmy twenty minutes' sojourn in Stockton--while waiting for the startingof the steamer.
Just as we were getting out of the stage waggon, several pistol-shotswere heard, close to the spot where we had stopped. They had been firedinside the gambling room of a public-house, on the opposite side of thestreet; and several men were seen rushing out of the house, apparentlyto escape the chances of being hit by a stray bullet.
As soon as the firing had ceased, the retreating tide turned back again;and re-entered the house--along with a crowd of others, who had beenidling outside.
I walked over; and went in with the rest. On entering the large saloon,in which the shots had been fired, I saw two men lying stretched uponseparate tables--each attended by a surgeon, who was examining hiswounds.
I could see that both were badly--in fact mortally--wounded; and yeteach was cursing the other with the most horrible imprecations I hadever heard!
One of the surgeons, addressing himself to the man upon whom he wasattending, said:--
"Do not talk in that profane manner. You had better turn your thoughtsto something else: you have not many hours to live."
Neither this rebuke, nor the unpleasant information
conveyed by it,seemed to produce the slightest effect on the wretch to whom it wasaddressed. Instead of becoming silent, he poured forth a fresh storm ofblasphemy; and continued cursing all the time I remained within hearing.
I was told that the two men had quarrelled about a horse, that one ofthem first fired at the other, who fell instantly to the shot; and thatthe latter, while lying on the floor, had returned the fire of theassailant, sending three bullets into his body.
I heard afterwards that the shots had proved fatal to both. The man whohad fired the first shot died that same night--the other surviving thesanguinary encounter only a few hours longer.
I had no desire to linger among the spectators of that tragical tableau;and I was but too glad to find a cue for escaping from it: in thetolling of the steam-boat bell, as it summoned the passengers aboard.
A few minutes after, and we were gliding down the San Joaquin--_enroute_ for the Golden City.
The San Joaquin is