Tracks Of A Rolling Stone by Henry J. Coke (free e reader txt) 📖

Pg 164

I Think,  Were On My Cheeks,  And Seeing Them,  She Put Her Arms

Around My Neck And - Forgave Me.

 

She Had Fallen On Her Head And Had Been Stunned.  I Caught

The Horses While She Sat Still,  And We Walked Them Slowly

Home.  When We Got Within Sight Of Her Hut On The Outskirts

Of The Town,  She Would Not Let Me Go Further.  There Was

Sadness In Her Look When We Parted.  I Made Her Understand (I

Had Picked Up Two Or Three Words) That I Would Return To See

Her.  She At Once Shook Her Head With An Expression Of

Something Akin To Fear.  I Too Felt Sorrowful,  And Worse Than

Sorrowful,  Jealous.

 

When The Night Fell I Sought Her Hut.  It Was One Of The

Better Kind,  Built Like Others Mainly With Matting; No Doors

Or Windows,  But With An Extensive Verandah Which Protected

The Inner Part From Rain And Sun.  Now And Again I Caught

Glimpses Of Arakeeta's Fairy Form Flitting In,  Or Obscuring, 

The Lamplight.  I Could See Two Other Women And Two Men.  Who

And What Were They?  Was One Of Those Dark Forms An Othello, 

Ready To Smother His Desdemona?  Or Were Either Of Them A

Valentine Between My Marguerite And Me?  Though There Was No

Moon,  I Dared Not Venture Within The Lamp's Rays,  For Her

Sake; For My Own,  I Was Reckless Now - I Would Have Thanked

Either Of Them To Brain Me With His Hoe.  But Arakeeta Came

Not.

 

In The Day-Time I Roamed About The District,  About The Taro

Fields,  In Case She Might Be Working There.  Every Evening

Before Sundown,  Many Of The Women And Some Of The Well-To-Do

Men,  And A Few Whites,  Used To Ride On The Plain That

Stretches Along The Shore Between The Fringe Of Palm Groves

And The Mountain Spurs.  I Had Seen Arakeeta Amongst Them

Before The Loohou Feast.  She Had Given This Up Now,  And Why? 

Night After Night I Hovered About The Hut.  When She Was In

The Verandah I Whispered Her Name.  She Started And Peered

Into The Dark,  Hesitated,  Then Fled.  Again The Same Thing

Happened.  She Had Heard Me,  She Knew That I Was There,  But

She Came Not; No,  Wiser Than I,  She Came Not.  And Though I

Sighed:

 

 

 

 

 

What Is Worth

The Rest Of Heaven,  The Rest Of Earth?

 

 

 

 

 

The Shrewd Little Wench Doubtless Told Herself:  'A Quiet

Life,  Without The Fear Of The Broomstick.'

Chapter 31 Pg 165

 

Fred Was Impatient To Be Off,  I Had Already Trespassed Too

Long On The Kind Hospitality Of General Miller,  Neither Of Us

Had Heard From England For More Than A Year,  And The

Opportunities Of Trading Vessels To California Seldom

Offered.  A Rare Chance Came - A Fast-Sailing Brig,  The

'Corsair,' Was To Leave In A Few Days For San Francisco.  The

Captain Was An Englishman,  And Had The Repute Of Being A Boon

Companion And A Good Caterer.  We - I,  Passively - Settled To

Go.  Samson Decided To Remain.  He Wanted To Visit Owyhee. 

He Came On Board With Us,  However; And,  With A Parting Bumper

Of Champagne,  We Said 'Good-Bye.'  That Was The Last I Ever

Saw Of Him.  The Hardships Had Broken Him Down.  He Died Not

Long After.

 

The Light Breeze Carried Us Slowly Away - For The First Time

For Many Long Months With Our Faces To The East.  But It Was

Not 'Merry' England That Filled My Juvenile Fancies.  I

Leaned Upon The Taffrail And Watched This Lovely Land Of The

'Flowery Food' Fade Slowly From My Sight.  I Had Eaten Of The

Lotus,  And Knew No Wish But To Linger On,  To Roam No More,  To

Return No More,  To Any Home That Was Not Arakeeta's.

 

This Sort Of Feeling Is Not Very Uncommon In Early Life.  And

'Out Of Sight,  Out Of Mind,' Is Also A Known Experience. 

Long Before We Reached San Fr'isco I Was Again Eager For

Adventure.

 

How Magnificent Is The Bay!  One Cannot See Across It.  How

Impatient We Were To Land!  Everything New.  Bearded Dirty

Heterogeneous Crowds Busy In All Directions,  - Some Running

Up Wooden And Zinc Houses,  Some Paving The Streets With

Planks,  Some Housing Over Ships Beached For Temporary

Dwellings.  The Sandy Hills Behind The Infant Town Are Being

Levelled And The Foreshore Filled Up.  A 'Water Surface' Of

Forty Feet Square Is Worth 5,000 Dollars.  So That Here And

There The Shop-Fronts Are Ships' Broadsides.  Already There

Is A Theatre.  But The Chief Feature Is The Gambling Saloons, 

Open Night And Day.  These Large Rooms Are Always Filled With

From 300 To 400 People Of Every Description - From 'Judges'

And 'Colonels' (Every Man Is One Or The Other,  Who Is Nothing

Else) To Parisian Cocottes,  And Escaped Convicts Of All

Nationalities.  At One End Of The Saloon Is A Bar,  At The

Other A Band.  Dozens Of Tables Are Ranged Around.  Monte, 

Faro,  Rouge-Et-Noir,  Are The Games.  A Large Proportion Of

The Players Are Diggers In Shirt-Sleeves And Butcher-Boots, 

Belts Round Their Waists For Bowie Knife And 'Five Shooters,'

Which Have To Be Surrendered On Admittance.  They Come With

Their Bags Of Nuggets Or 'Dust,' Which Is Duly Weighed, 

Stamped,  And Sealed By Officials For The Purpose.

 

1 Have Still Several Specimens Of The Precious Metal Which I

Captured,  Varying In Size From A Grain Of Wheat To A Mustard

Seed.

Chapter 31 Pg 166

 

The Tables Win Enormously,  And So Do The Ladies Of Pleasure;

But The Winnings Of These Go Back Again To The Tables.  Four

Times,  While We Were Here,  Differences Of Opinion Arose

Concerning Points Of 'Honour,' And Were Summarily Decided By

Revolvers.  Two Of The Four Were Subsequently Referred To

Judge 'Lynch.'

 

Wishing To See The 'Diggings,' Fred And I Went To Sacramento

- About 150 Miles Up The River Of That Name.  This Was But A

Pocket Edition Of San Francisco,  Or Scarcely That.  We

Therefore Moved To Marysville,  Which,  From Its Vicinity To

The Various Branches Of The Sacramento River,  Was The Chief

Depot For The Miners Of The 'Wet Diggin's' In Northern

California.  Here We Were Received By A Mr. Massett - A

Curious Specimen Of The Waifs And Strays That Turn Up All

Over The World In Odd Places,  And Whom One Would Be Sure To

Find In The Moon If Ever One Went There.  He Owned A Little

One-Roomed Cabin,  Over The Door Of Which Was Painted 'Offices

Of The Marysville Herald.'  He Was His Own Contributor And

'Correspondent,' Editor And Printer,  (The Press Was In A

Corner Of The Room).  Amongst Other Avocations He Was A

Concert-Giver,  A Comic Reader,  A Tragic Actor,  And An

Auctioneer.  He Had The Good Temper And Sanguine Disposition

Of A Mark Tapley.  After The Golden Days Of California He

Spent His Life Wandering About The Globe; Giving

'Entertainments' In China,  Japan,  India,  Australia.  Wherever

The English Language Is Spoken,  Stephen Massett Had Many

Friends And No Enemies.

 

Fred Slept On The Table,  I Under It,  And Next Morning We

Hired Horses And Started For The 'Forks Of The Yuba.'  A Few

Hours' Ride Brought Us To The Gold-Hunters.  Two Or Three

Hundred Men Were At Work Upon What Had Formerly Been The Bed

Of The River.  By Unwritten Law,  Each Miner Was Entitled To A

Certain Portion Of The 'Bar,' As It Was Called,  In Which The

Gold Is Found.  And,  As The Precious Metal Has To Be Obtained

By Washing,  The Allotments Were Measured By Thirty Feet On

The Banks Of The River And Into The Dry Bed As Far As This

Extends; Thus Giving Each Man His Allowance Of Water. 

Generally Three Or Four Combined To Possess A 'Claim.'  Each

Would Then Attend To His Own Department:  One Loosened The

Soil,  Another Filled The Barrow Or Cart,  A Third Carried It

To The River,  And The Fourth Would Wash It In The 'Rocker.' 

The Average Weight Of Gold Got By Each Miner While We Were At

The 'Wet Diggin's,' I.E. Where Water Had To Be Used,  Was

Nearly Half An Ounce Or Seven Dollars' Worth A Day.  We Saw

Three Englishmen Who Had Bought A Claim 30 Feet By 100 Feet, 

For 1,400 Dollars.  It Had Been Bought And Sold Twice Before

For Considerable Sums,  Each Party Supposing It To Be Nearly

'Played Out.'  In Three Weeks The Englishmen Paid Their 1,400

Dollars And Had Cleared Thirteen Dollars A Day Apiece For

Their Labour.

 

Chapter 31 Pg 167

Our Presence Here Created Both Curiosity And Suspicion,  For

Each Gang And Each Individual Was Very Shy Of His Neighbour. 

They Did Not Believe Our Story Of Crossing The Plains; They

Themselves,  For The Most Part,  Had Come Round The Horn; A Few

Across The Isthmus.  Then,  If We Didn't Want To Dig,  What Did

We Want?  Another Peculiarity About Us - A Great One - Was, 

That,  So Far As They Could See,  We Were Unarmed.  At Night

The Majority,  All Except The Few Who Had Huts,  Slept In A

Zinc House Or Sort Of Low-Roofed Barn,  Against The Walls Of

Which Were Three Tiers Of Bunks.  There Was No Room For Us, 

Even If We Had Wished It,  But We Managed To Hire A Trestle. 

Mattress Or Covering We Had None.  As Fred And I Lay Side By

Side,  Squeezed Together In A Trough Scarcely Big Enough For

One,  We Heard Two Fellows By The Door Of The Shed Talking Us

Over.  They Thought No Doubt That We Were Fast Asleep,  They

Themselves Were Slightly Fuddled.  We Nudged Each Other And

Pricked Up Our Ears,  For We Had Already Canvassed The

Question Of Security,  Surrounded As We Were By Ruffians Who

Looked Quite Ready To Dispose Of Babes In The Wood.  They

Discussed Our 'Portable Property' Which Was Nil; One Decided, 

While The Other Believed,  That We Must Have Money In Our

Pockets.  The First Remarked That,  Whether Or No,  We Were

Unarmed; The Other Wasn't So Sure About That - It Wasn't

Likely We'd Come There To Be Skinned For The Asking.  Then

Arose The Question Of Consequences,  And It Transpired That

Neither Of Them Had The Courage Of His Rascality.  After A

Bit,  Both Agreed They Had Better Turn In.  Tired As We Were, 

We Fell Asleep.  How Long We Had Slumbered I Know Not,  But

All Of A Sudden I Was Seized By The Beard,  And Was Conscious

Of A Report Which In My Dreams I Took For A Pistol-Shot.  I

Found Myself On The Ground Amid