Lost Lenore Part 27

Nor was I without some regret, as I suffered my mind to dwell on the spectacle just past. The criminal was my stepfather. I had, though half unconsciously, given the word, that had launched his body from the scaffold, and his soul into eternity!

My regrets could not have been very deeply felt. They were checked by the reflection, that he could have given me some information concerning my mother, and that he had died apparently happy with the thought, that he had disappointed me by withholding it!

Mr Leary had been my mother's husband--my own stepfather--yet without shame I have recorded the fact, that he died an ignominious death. I am not responsible for his actions. I stand alone; and the man who may think any the less of me, for my unfortunate relationship with a murderer, is one whose good will I do not think worth having.

Volume Two, Chapter V.

STORMY'S LAST SPREE.

Shortly after my return to the Tuolumne, I was joined by Stormy Jack, who came to Jacksonville, as he had promised he would, with the determination to take the world a little easier.

Since his childhood Stormy had never spent a whole week in idleness--at least not at a single spell--and such a life he soon found, did not help him to that supreme happiness he had been antic.i.p.ating from it.

In the little town of Jacksonville an idle man could only find amus.e.m.e.nt, in some place where strong drink was sold; and to be, day after day, continually called upon to resist the temptation to drink, was a trial too severe for Stormy's mental and physical const.i.tution.

Both had to yield. He got drunk frequently; and on several occasions so very drunk, as to be affected both in his head and legs at the same time!

He was himself somewhat surprised at finding himself so often in this condition of "double drunkenness,"--as he termed it. It was not often in his life he had been so. It was a serious affair; and he made some sort of a resolution that it should not occur again.

To avoid its recurrence, he saw that he must employ himself in some way; and he purchased a rifle, with the design of transforming himself into a hunter.

By following this profession he could combine business with amus.e.m.e.nt, as there were other hunters making a very good thing of it, by supplying the citizens of Jacksonville with venison and bear meat.

Stormy prosecuted his new calling for about three days. At the end of that time he had been taught three things. One was, that hunting was hard work--harder, if possible, than mining. Secondly, he discovered that the amus.e.m.e.nt of the chase was, after all, not so grand--especially when followed as a profession, or by a man of peculiar inclinations, altogether different to his own. Finally, Stormy arrived at the conclusion, that the business didn't pay.

The truth is, Stormy was no marksman; and could only hit a barn, by going inside, and closing the door before firing off his piece.

The calling of a hunter was not suited to the old "salt," nor was it of the kind he required, to keep him from backsliding into his bad habit.

He therefore determined to give it up, and take to some other.

While deliberating on what was to be done, he again yielded to the old temptation; and got gloriously drunk.

Alas, for poor Stormy! It proved the last intoxication of his life!

The story of his death is too sad to be dismissed in a few words; and when heard, will doubtless be thought deserving of the "full and particular" account here given of it. I record the facts, in all the exact.i.tude and minuteness, with which memory has supplied them to myself.

At that time there was staying in Jacksonville a man known by the name, or soubriquet, of "Red Ned." I had casually heard of the man, though I had not seen him, as he had only arrived in the place a few days before; and was stopping at one of the gambling taverns, with which that mining village was abundantly provided.

I had heard that Red Ned was a "dangerous man,"--a t.i.tle of which he was no little vain; and, probably, ever since his arrival in the place, he had been looking for an opportunity of distinguishing himself by some deed of violence.

In my wanderings over the world I have encountered many of those men known as "bullies." Notwithstanding the infamy attached to the appellation, I have found some of them--perhaps unfortunately for themselves--endowed with genuine courage, while others were mere cowardly wretches--ever seeking to keep up their spurious reputation, by such opportunities as are offered in quarrelling with half-grown lads, and men under the influence of drink.

Such swaggerers may be met with in all parts of the world; but nowhere in such numbers, as in California--which for a country so thinly peopled, appears to be more than ordinarily afflicted with the propensity for "bullyism." At least, it was so, at the period of which I am writing.

At that time, a man, who was known to have killed three or four of his fellow-creatures, was looked upon with admiration by many, with fear by as many more, and with abhorrence by a very few indeed.

Quarrels in California, three times out of every four, terminated fatally for one or other of the combatants; and the survivor of several such sanguinary affairs was certain to obtain among his fellows a reputation of some kind--whether of good or evil--and for this, unhappily, the majority of mankind are but too eager to strive.

Where society exists in a state of half civilisation--such as was that of California fifteen years ago--it is not so strange that many should be met, who prefer having the reputation of a bully to having no reputation at all.

It was the unfortunate fate of my old comrade, to encounter one of these contemptible creatures--who combine the bully with the coward--in the person of Red Ned.

Stormy, after giving up the calling of the chase, had found himself once more afloat, and in search of some business that would be more suited to his tastes and abilities. While beating about, as already stated, he had once more given way to his unfortunate propensity for strong drink; and had got intoxicated both in his mind and his limbs.

While in this state, he had involved himself in a coffee-house quarrel with the man above mentioned; and who, no doubt, well understood the helpless condition of his adversary: for it was Red Ned himself who provoked the quarrel.

When unmolested by others, I never knew a man of a more harmless, inoffensive disposition than was the old sailor.

Even when under the influence of liquor, he never, to my knowledge, commenced a dispute; but when in that state, he was inclined to "teach manners" to any one who might interfere with him.

Red Ned had met Stormy in one of the gambling taverns, where the latter was carrying on his carouse; and perceiving that the old sailor was helplessly intoxicated, and moreover, that he was only a sailor--whom he could affront, without offending any of the company present--his bullying propensity would not permit him to let pa.s.s such a fine opportunity of gaining the distinction he coveted.

In Stormy's state of inebriety there was but little danger to be dreaded from any personal conflict with him, for although he was still able to keep his feet, his legs had reached a degree of drunkenness, that caused him occasionally to reel and stagger over the floor of the bar-room.

The ruffian, perfectly conscious of all this, made some slurring remark--intended to reflect upon Stormy's condition, and loud enough for the latter to hear it.

As might have been expected, the old sailor did not take the slur in good part; but in return poured forth his displeasure in his usual frank and energetic manner.

Stormy, when excited by drink, was somewhat extravagant in the use of vituperative language; and there can be no doubt that the bully was compelled to listen to some plain-speaking that he did not much relish.

He submitted to the storm for a while; and then rushing upon Stormy, he struck the old sailor a slap with his open hand.

Stormy, of course, returned the blow with closed fists, and then proceeded to defend himself, by throwing his body, as well as its intoxicated legs would allow him, into a boxing att.i.tude.

But the bully had no intention to continue the fight in that cowardly fashion--as he would have called it; and drawing his bowie-knife out of his boot, he closed suddenly upon Stormy, and buried its blade in the old sailors side.

Of course this terminated the strife; and the wounded man was conveyed to his lodgings.

Volume Two, Chapter VI.

RED NED.

At the time that Stormy was teaching, or rather receiving, that terrible lesson of manners, I was not in the village. I had gone some two or three miles up the river, to look after my miners at their work.

A messenger brought me the news; and, in breathless haste, I hurried homewards.

On arriving at the house where Stormy lived, I found him stretched upon his bed--with a doctor bending over him.

"Rowley, my boy, it's all over with me," said he. "The doctor says so; and for the first time in my life I believe one."

"Stormy! Stormy! my friend, what has happened?" I asked, as across my soul swept a wave of anguish more painful than words can describe.

"Never mind any explanation now," interrupted the doctor, turning to me, and speaking in a low voice. "Do not excite your friend, by making him converse. You can learn the particulars of his misfortune from some one else."

The doctor was in the act of leaving; and, interpreting a sign he gave me, I followed him out. I was told by him, that Stormy had been stabbed, and that his wound would prove mortal. The man of medicine imparted some other details of the affair, which he had collected from the spectators who had witnessed it.

On parting from me, the surgeon gave me warning, that the wounded man might live two days--certainly not longer.

"He has received an injury," said he, "that must cause his death within that time. You can do nothing, beyond keeping him as quiet as possible."