Port O' Gold Part 23

David Broderick discussed it frequently with Alice Windham. He had fallen into a habit of coming to the ranch when wearied by affairs of state. He was a silent, brooding man, robbed somehow of his national heritage, a sense of humor, for he had Irish blood. He was a man of fire, implacable as an enemy, inalienable as a friend. And to Alice, as she sat embroidering or knitting before the fire, he told many of his dreams, his plans. She would nod her head sagely, giving him her eyes now and then--eyes that were clear and calm with understanding.

Thus Alice came to know what boded for the town of San Francisco.

"Benito," she said one night, when Broderick had gone, "Benito, my dearest, will you let me stir you--even if it wounds?" She came up behind him quickly; put her arms about his neck and leaned her golden head against his own. "We are sitting here too quietly ... while life goes by," her tone was wistful. "You, especially, Benito. Outside teems the world; the gorgeous, vibrant world of which our David speaks."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, stirring restlessly, "go into business? Make money--like Adrian?"

"No, no," she nestled closer. "It isn't money that I crave. We are happy here. But"--she looked up at the portrait of Francisco Garvez, and Benito followed her glance. "What would he have you do?"

"I promised him in thought," her husband said, "that I would help to build the city he loved. It was a prophecy," his tone grew dreamy, "a prophecy that he and his--the Garvez blood--should always stir in San Francisco's heart." Swiftly he rose and, standing very straight before the picture, raised his right hand to salute. "You are right," he said.

"He would have wanted me to be a soldier."

But Alice shook her head. "The conquest is over," she told him. "San Francisco needs no gun nor saber now. In our courts and legislatures lie the future battlegrounds for justice. You must study law, Benito.... I want"--quick color tinged her face--"I want my--son to have a father who--"

"Alice!" cried Benito. But she fled from him. The door of her bedroom closed behind her. But it opened again very softly--"who makes his country's laws," she finished, fervently.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE

About 8 o'clock on the evening of February 19, 1851, two men entered the store of C.J. Jansen & Co., a general merchandise shop on Montgomery street. The taller and older presented a striking figure. He was of such height that, possibly from entering many low doorways, he had acquired a slight stoop. His beard was long and dark, his hair falling to the collar, was a rich and wavy brown. He had striking eyes, an aquiline nose and walked with a long, measured stride. Charles Jansen, alone in the store, noted these characteristics half unconsciously and paid little attention to the smaller man who lurked behind his companion in the shadows.

"Show me some blankets," said the tall man peremptorily. Jansen did not like his tone, nor his looks for that matter, but he turned toward a shelf where comforters, sheets and blankets were piled in orderly array.

As he did so he heard a quick step behind him; the universe seemed to split asunder in a flash of countless stars. And then the world turned black.

Hours afterward his partner found him p.r.o.ne behind the counter, a great bleeding cut on his head. The safe stood open and a hasty examination revealed the loss of $2,000 in gold dust and coin. Jansen was revived with difficulty and, after a period of delirium, described what had occurred. The next morning's Alta published a sensational account of the affair, describing Jansen's a.s.sailant and stating that the victim's recovery was uncertain.

As Adrian, Benito and Samuel Brannan pa.s.sed the new city hall on the morning of February 22, they noticed that a crowd was gathering. People seemed to be running from all directions. Newsboys with huge armfuls of morning papers, thrust them in the faces of pedestrians, crying, "Extra!

Extra! a.s.sa.s.sins of Jansen caught." Adrian tossed the nearest lad a two-bit piece and grasped the outstretched sheet. It related in heavy blackfaced type the arrest of "two scoundrelly a.s.sa.s.sins," one of whom, James Stuart, a notorious "Sydney Duck," was wanted in Auburn for the murder of Sheriff Moore. This was the man identified by Jansen. He claimed mistaken ident.i.ty, however, insisting that his name was Thomas Berdue.

"They'll let him go on that ridiculous plea, no doubt," remarked Brannan, wrathfully. "There are always a dozen alibis and false witnesses for these gallows-birds. It's time the people were doing something."

"It looks very much as though we _were_ doing something," said Benito, with a glance at the gathering crowd.

There were shouts of "Lynch them! Bring them out and hang them to a tree!" Someone thrust a handbill toward Benito, who grasped it mechanically. It read:

CITIZENS OF SAN FRANCISCO

The series of murders and robberies that have been committed in the city seems to leave us entirely in a state of anarchy.

Law, it appears, is but a nonent.i.ty to be sneered at; redress can be had for aggression but through the never-failing remedy so admirably laid down in the Code of Judge Lynch.

All those who would rid our city of its robbers and murderers will a.s.semble on Sunday at 2 o'clock on the Plaza.

"This means business," commented Adrian grimly. "It may mean worse unless their temper cools. I've heard this Stuart has a double. They should give him time--"

"Bosh!" cried Brannan, "they should string him up immediately." He waved the handbill aloft. "Hey, boys," he called out loudly, "let us go and take them. Let us have a little justice in this town."

"Aye, aye," cried a score of voices. Instantly a hundred men rushed up the stairs and pushed aside policemen stationed at the doors. They streamed inward, hundreds more pushing from the rear until the court room was reached. There they halted suddenly. Angry shouts broke from the rear. "What's wrong ahead? Seize the rascals. Bring them out!"

But the front rank of that invading army paused for an excellent reason.

They faced a row of bayonets with determined faces behind them. Sheriff Hayes had sensed the brewing troubles and had brought the Washington Guards quietly in at a rear entrance.

So the crowd fell back and the first mob rush was baffled. Outside the people still talked angrily. At least a thousand thronged the court house, surrounding it with the determined and angry purpose of letting no one escape. Mayor Geary made his way with difficulty through the press and urged them to disperse. He a.s.sured them that the law would take its proper course and that there was no danger of the prisoners'

release or escape. They listened to him respectfully but very few left their posts. Here and there speakers addressed the mult.i.tude.

The crowd, the first fever abated, had resolved itself into a semi-parliamentary body. But no real leader had arisen. And so it arrived at nothing save the appointment of a committee to confer with the authorities and insure the proper guarding of the prisoners. Brannan was one of these and Benito another.

"Windham's getting to be a well-known citizen," said a bystander to Adrian, "I hear he's studying law with Hall McAllister. Used to be a dreamy sort of chap. He's waking up."

"Yes, his wife is at the bottom of it," Stanley answered.

Sunday morning 8,000 people surrounded the courthouse. Less turbulent than on the previous day, their purpose was more grimly certain.

Mayor Geary's impressive figure appeared on the balcony of the court house. He held out a hand for silence and amid the hush that followed, spoke with brevity and to the point.

"The people's will is final," he conceded, "but this very fact entails responsibility, n.o.blesse oblige! What we want is justice, gentlemen.

Now, I'll tell you how to make it sure. Appoint a jury of twelve men from among yourselves. Let them sit at the trial with the presiding judge. Their judgment shall be final. I pledge you my word for that."

He ceased and again the crowd began murmuring. A tall, smooth-shaven youth began to talk with calm distinctness.

There was about him the aspect of command. People ceased their talk to listen. "I move you, gentlemen," he shouted, "that a committee of twelve men be appointed from amongst us to retire and consider this situation calmly. They shall then report and if their findings are approved, they shall be law."

"Good! Good!" came a chorus of voices. "Hurray for Bill Coleman. Make him chairman."

Coleman bowed. "I thank you, gentlemen," he said, then crisply, like so many whip-cracks, he called the names of eleven men. One by one they answered and the crowd made way for them. Silently and in a body they departed.

"There's a leader for you," exclaimed Adrian to his brother-in-law.

Benito nodded, eyes ashine with admiration. Presently there was a stir among the crowd. The jury was returning. "Well, gentlemen," the mayor raised his voice, "what is the verdict?"

Coleman answered: "We recommend that the prisoners be tried by the people. If the legal courts wish to aid they're invited. Otherwise we shall appoint a prosecutor and attorney for the prisoners. The trial will take place this afternoon."

"Hurray! Hurray!" the people shouted. The cheers were deafening.

CHAPTER XXII

THE PEOPLE'S JURY

Benito, as he elbowed his way through a crowd which ringed the city hall that afternoon, was impressed by the terrific tight-lipped determination of those faces all about him. It was as though San Francisco had but one thought, one straight, relentless purpose--the punishment of crime by Mosaic law. The prisoners in the county jail appeared to sense this wave of retributive hatred, for they paced their cells like caged beasts.

It was truly a case of "The People vs. Stuart (alias Berdue) and Windred," charged with robbery and a.s.sault. Coleman and his Committee of Twelve were in absolute charge. They selected as judges, three popular and trusted citizens, J.R. Spence, H.R. Bowie and C.L. Ross. W.A. Jones was named the judge's clerk and J.E. Townes the whilom sheriff.

While the jury was impaneling, Brannan spoke to Benito: "Twelve good men and true; the phrase means something here. Lord, if we could have such jurymen as these in all our American courts."

Benito nodded. "They've appointed Bill Coleman as public prosecutor; that's rather a joke on Bill."

Judge Spence, who sat between his two colleagues, presiding on the bench, now spoke: