The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West by R. M. Ballantyne (book recommendations for teens .TXT) đ
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West by R. M. Ballantyne (book recommendations for teens .TXT) đ». Author R. M. Ballantyne
âTom,â said he, in a low whisper, as if he feared to break the spell, âhow did they get her up here!â
âSheâs never been moved since you left her,â answered Tom, laughing; âthe town has gradually surrounded her, as you see, and crept out upon the shore, filling up the sea with rubbish, till it has left her nearly a quarter of a mile inland.â
The captainâs eyes opened wider than ever, but before he could find words again to speak, Major Whitlaw returned.
âTheyâre all square now, gentlemen, so, if you please, weâll proceed to business. I suppose your friend has told you how the land lies?â
âHe certainly has,â replied the captain, who accepted the phrase literally.
âWall, I reckon your propertyâs riz since ye wor here; now, if you give me leave to make the alterations I want to, Iâll give you 1000 dollars a month, payable in advance.â
âYouâd better tell Captain Bunting what the alterations you refer to are,â suggested Tom Collins, who saw that the captainâs state of mind rendered him totally incapable of transacting business.
âThatâs soon done. Iâll give it ye slick off. I want to cut away the companion-hatch and run up a regular stair to the deck; then itâs advisable to cut away at least half oâ the main deck to heighten the gaminâ saloon. But I guess the main point is to knock out half-a-dozen windows in the hold, for gas-light is plaguey dear, when itâs goinâ full blast day and night. Besides, I must cut the entrance-door down to the ground, for this tree-mendous flight oâ stairsâll be the ruin oâ the business. Itâs only a week since a man was shot by a comrade here in the cabin, anâ as they rushed out after him, two customers fell down the stair and broke their arms. And I calcâlate the gentlemen thatâs overtaken by liquor every night wonât stand it much longer. There isnât a single man that quits this house after 12 p.m. but goes down that flight head-foremost. If you donât sanction that change, I guess Iâll have to get âem padded, and spread feather-beds at the foot. Now, capân, if you agrees to this right off, Iâll give the sum named.â
Captain Buntingâs astonishment had now reached that point at which extremes are supposed to meet, and a reaction began to take place.
âHow much did you propose?â he inquired, taking out a pencil and an old letter, as if he were about to make notes, at the same time knitting his brows, and endeavouring to look intensely sagacious.
âOne thousand dollars a month,â answered the Yankee; âI railly canât stand more.â
âLet me see,â muttered the captain slowly, in an under tone, while he pressed his forehead with his fore-finger; âone thousand dollarsâ200 pounds sterlingâhum, equal to about 2400 pounds a year. Well,â he added, raising his voice, âI donât mind if I do. I suppose, Tom, itâs not much below the thing, as rents go!â
âItâs a fair offer,â said Tom, carelessly; âwe might, perhaps, get a higher, but Major Whitlaw is in possession, and is, besides, a good tenant.â
âThen Iâll conclude the bargainâpray get pen, ink, and paper.â
While the major turned for a moment to procure writing materials, the captain looked at Tom and winked expressively. Then, a document was drawn up, signed, and witnessed, and then the captain, politely declining a brandy-smash, or any other smash whatever, left the Roving Bess Tavern with his friends, and with 200 poundsâthe first monthâs rentâin his pocket.
It is needless to remark, that his comrades congratulated him heartily, and that the worthy captain walked along the streets of San Francisco chuckling.
In a few minutes, Tom Collins stopped before a row of immense warehouses. There was one gap in the row, a space of several yards square, that might have held two good-sized houses. Four wooden posts stood at the corners of the plot, and an old boat, turned keel up, lay in the middle of it.
âI know it!â cried Ned Sinton, laughing in gleeful surprise; âitâs my old boat, isnât it? Well, I can scarcely credit my eyes! I saw it last on the sea-shore, and now itâs a quarter of a mile into the town!â
âMore than that, Ned,â said Tom Collins, âthe plot of ground is worth ten thousand dollars at this moment. Had it been a little further south, it would have been worth ten times that sum. And more than that still, the Irish family you lent the boat toâyou remember themâwell, they dug up a bag from under the boat which contained five thousand dollars; the honest people at once gave it up, and Mr Thompson rewarded them well; but they did not live to enjoy it long, theyâre all dead now. So you see, Ned, youâre just 3000 pounds richer than you thought you were this morning.â
âItâs a great day!â remarked Larry OâNeil, looking round upon his comrades, who received all this information with an expression of doubting surprise; âa great day intirely! Faix, Iâm only hopinâ we wonât waken up anâ find itâs all a dhrame!â
Larryâs companions quite agreed with him. They did not indeed say so, but, as they returned home after that stroll, talking eagerly of future plans and prospects, the ever-recurring sentiment broke from their lips, in every style of phrase, âItâs a great day, intirely!â
âIt never rains but it pours,â saith the proverb. We are fond of proverbs. We confess to a weakness that way. There is a depth of meaning in them which courts investigation from the strongest intellects. Even when they are nonsensical, which is not unfrequently the case, their nonsense is unfathomable, and, therefore, invested with all the zest which attaches, metaphysically speaking, to the incomprehensible.
Astonishing circumstances had been raining for some time past around our bewildered adventurers, and, latterly, they had begun to pour. On the afternoon of the day, the events of which have been recorded in the last chapter, there was, metaphorically speaking, a regular thunder-plump. No sooner had the party returned to old Mr Thompsonâs cottage, than down it came again, heavy as ever.
On entering the porch, Lizette ran up to Tom, in that pretty tripping style peculiar to herself, and whispered in his ear.
âWell, you baggage,â said he, âIâll go with you; but I donât like secrets. Walk into the parlour, friends; Iâll be with you in a minute.â
âTom,â said Lizette, pursing up her little mouth and elevating her pert nose; âyou canât guess what an interesting discovery Iâve made.â
âOf course I canât,â replied Tom, with affected impatience; ânow, pray, donât ask me to try, else I shall leave you instantly.â
âWhat an impatient creature you are!â said Lizette. âOnly think! I have discovered that my maid, whom we hired only two days ago, hasââ
âBolted with the black cook, or somebody else, and married him,â interrupted Tom, with a look of horror, as he threw himself into any easy-chair.
âNot at all,â rejoined Lizette, hurriedly; ânothing of the sort; she has discovered that the little girl Mr Sinton brought with him is her sister.â
âWhat! Kate Morganâs sister!â cried Tom, with a look of surprise. âI knew it; I was sure I had heard the name before, but I couldnât remember when or where; I see it now; she must be the girl Larry OâNeil used to talk about up at the digginâs; but as I never saw her there, of course I couldnât know her.â
âWell, I donât know about that; I suppose youâre right,â replied Lizette; âbut isnât it nice? Theyâre kissing and hugging each other, and crying, in the kitchen at this moment. Oh! Iâm so happyâthe dear little thing!â
If Lizette was happy she took a strange way to shew it, for she sat down beside Tom and began to sob.
While the above conversation was going on up-stairs, another conversationâinteresting enough to deserve special noticeâwas going on in the parlour.
âSure donât I know me own feelinâs best?â remarked Larry, addressing Ned Sinton. âItâs all very well at the digginâs; but when it comes to drawinâ-rooms and parlours, I feelsâanâ so does Bill Jones hereâthat weâre out âo place. In the matter oâ digginâ weâre all equals, no doubt; but we feels that we ainât gintlemen born, and that itâs aâkâard to the lady to be havinâ sich rough customers at her table, so Bill anâ me has agreed to make the most oâ ourselves in the kitchen.â
âLarry, youâre talking nonsense. We have messed together on equal terms for many months; and, whatever course we may follow after this, you must sup with us to-night, as usual. I know Tom will be angry if you donât.â
âAy, sir, but it ainât âas oosual,ââ suggested Bill Jones, turning the quid in his cheek; âitâs quite on-oosual for the likes oâ us to sup with a lady.â
âThatâs it,â chimed in Larry; âso, Mister Ned, yeâll jist plaise to make our excuges to Mrs Tom, and tell her where weâve gone to lo-cate, as the Yankees say. Come away, Bill.â
Larry took his friend by the arm, and, leading him out of the room, shut the door.
Five seconds after that there came an appalling female shriek, and a dreadful masculine yell, from the region of the kitchen, accompanied by a subdued squeak of such extreme sweetness, that it could have come only from the throat of Mademoiselle Nelina. Ned and the captain sprang to the door, and dashed violently against Tom and his wife, whom they unexpectedly met also rushing towards the kitchen. In another moment a curious and deeply interesting tableau vivant was revealed to their astonished gaze.
In the middle of the room was Larry OâNeil, down on one knee, while with both arms he supported the fainting form of Kate Morgan. By Kateâs side knelt her sister Nelly, who bent over her pale face with anxious, tearful countenance, while, presiding over the group, like an amiable ogre, stood Bill Jones, with his hands in his breeches-pockets, his legs apart, one eye tightly screwed up, and his mouth expanded from ear to ear.
âThatâs yer sort!â cried Bill, in ecstatic glee. âWâen a thing comes all right, anâ tight, anâ ship-shape, why, wot then? In coorse itâs all squareâthatâs wot I say.â
âSheâs cominâ to,â whispered Larry. âAh! thin, spake, wonât ye, darlinâ? Itâll do ye good, maybe, anâ help to open yer two purty eyes.â
Kate Morgan recoveredâwe need scarcely tell our reader thatâand Nelly dried her eyes, and that evening was spent in a fashion that conduced to the well-being, and comfort, and good humour of all parties concerned. Perhaps it is also needless to inform our reader that Larry OâNeil and Bill Jones carried their point. They supped in the kitchen that night. Our informant does not say whether Kate Morgan and her sister Nelly supped with themâbut we rather think they did.
A week afterwards, Captain Bunting had matured his future plans. He resolved to purchase a clipper-brig that was lying at that time useless in the harbour, and embark in the coasting trade of California. He made Bill Jones his first mate, and offered to make Larry OâNeil his second, but Larry wanted a mate himself, and declined the honour; so the captain gave him five hundred pounds to set him up in any line he chose. Ned Sinton sold his property, and also presented his old comrade with a goodly sum of money, saying, that as he, (Ned), had been the means of dragging him away from the diggings, he felt bound to assist him in the hour of need. So Kate Morgan became Mrs OâNeil the week following; and she, with her husband and her little sister, started off for the interior of the
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