Gold Part 57

"Our hotel next," said Johnny.

"That's safe enough; there's a wide lot between," I observed.

A fresh crew of firefighters took the place of the others--namely, those personally interested in saving the hotel.

"Lucky the night is so still," said Talbot.

We watched Warren's place burn with all the half guilty joy of those who are sorry; but who are glad to be there if it has to happen. Suddenly Talbot threw up his head.

"Feel that breeze?" he cried.

"Suction into the fire," suggested Johnny.

But Talbot shook his head impatiently, trying to peer through the glare into the sky.

It was a very gentle breeze from the direction of the ocean. I could barely feel it on my cheek, and it was not strong enough as yet to affect in the slightest the upward-roaring column of flame. For a moment I was inclined to agree with Johnny that it was simply a current of air induced by the conflagration. But now an uneasy motion began to take place in the crowd. Men elbowed their way here and there, met, conferred, gathered in knots. In less than a minute Talbot signalled us.

We made our way to where he was standing with Sam Brannan, Casey, Green, and a few others.

"Thank G.o.d the wind is from the northwest," Talbot said fervently. "The Ward Block is safely to windward, and we don't need to worry about that, anyway. But it is a wind, and it's freshening. We've got to do something to stop this fire."

As though to emphasize the need for some sort of action, a second and stronger puff of wind sent whirling aloft a shower of sparks and brands.

We started at double quick in the direction of the flimsy small structures between the old El Dorado and the Parker House. Some men, after a moment, brought ropes and axes. We began to tear down the shanties.

But before we had been at work five minutes, the fire began to run. The wind from the sea increased. Blazing pieces of wood flew through the air like arrows. Flames stooped in their stride, and licked up their prey, and went on rejoicing. Structures one minute dark and cold and still burst with startling suddenness and completeness into rioting conflagration. Our little beginning of a defence was attacked and captured before we had had time to perfect it. The half dozen shanties we had pulled to the ground merely furnished piled fuel. Somewhat demoralized, we fell back, and tried, rather vaguely, to draw a second line of defence. The smoke and sparks suffocated and overwhelmed us, and the following flames leaped upon us as from behind an ambush. Some few men continued gropingly to try to do something, but the most of us were only too glad to get out where we could catch a breath.

Almost immediately, however, we were hurried back by frantic merchants.

"Save the goods!" was the cry.

We laboured like slaves, carrying merchandise, fixtures, furniture, anything and everything from the darkened interiors of buildings to the open s.p.a.ces. I worked as I had never worked before, and not once did I know whose property I thus saved. At first I groped in the darkness, seizing what I could; then gradually, like the glow of a red dawn, a strange light grew, showing dimly and ruddily the half-guessed features of the place. It glowed, this light, increasing in power as heating metal slowly turns red. And then the flames licked through; and dripping with sweat, I abandoned that place to its enemy.

All sense of time and all sense of locality were lost. The world was a strange world of deep, concealing shadows and strong, revealing glares, and a mist of smoke, and hurrying, shouting, excited mult.i.tudes.

Sometimes I found myself in queer little temporary eddies of stillness, where a certain calm and leisure seemed to have been insulated. Then for a brief moment or so I rested. Occasionally I would find myself with some stranger, and we would exchange brief exclamatory remarks.

"Whole city is going!"

"Looks like it."

"Hear a roof fell in and killed twenty men."

"Probably exaggerated."

"Probably. Don't catch me under no falling roofs! When she gets afire, I get out."

"Same here."

"Well, I suppose we ought to try to do _something_."

"Suppose so."

And we would go at it again.

At the end of two or three hours--no man can guess time in such a situation--the fire stopped advancing. I suppose the wind must have changed, though at the time I did not notice it. At any rate, I found myself in the gray dawn looking rather stupidly at a row of the frailest kind of canvas and scantling houses which the fire had sheared cleanly in two, and wondering why in thunder the rest of them hadn't burned!

A dense pall of smoke hung over the city, and streamed away to the south and east. In the burned district all sense of location had been lost.

Where before had been well-known landmarks now lay a flat desert. The fire had burned fiercely and completely, and, in lack of food, had died down to almost nothing. A few wisps of smoke still rose, a few coals glowed, but beside them nothing remained to indicate even the laying out of the former plan. Only over across a dead acreage of ashes rose here and there the remains of isolated brick walls. They looked, through the eddying mists and smoke, like ancient ruins, separated by wide s.p.a.ces.

I gazed dully across the waste area, taking deep breaths, resting, my mind numb. Then gradually it was borne in on me that the Plaza itself looked rather more empty-sided than it should. A cold hand gripped my heart. I began to skirt the smouldering embers of the shanties and wooden warehouses, trying to follow where the streets had been. Men were prowling about everywhere, blackened by smoke, their clothing torn and burned.

"Can you make out where Higgins's store was?" one of them hailed me. "I had a little shanty next door, and some gold dust. Figure I might pan it out of the ashes, if I could only find the place."

I had no time to help him, and left him prowling around seeking for a landmark.

The Plaza was full of people. I made my way to the northerly corner, and, pus.h.i.+ng a pa.s.sage through the bystanders, contemplated three jagged, tottering brick walls, a heap of smouldering debris, and a twisted tangle of iron work. This represented all that remained of the Ward Block. The change of wind that had saved the shanties had destroyed our fortune!

CHAPTER XLVI

THE VISION

Within ten hours men were at work rebuilding. Within ten days the burned area was all rebuilt. It took us just about the former period of time to determine that we would be unable to save anything from the wreck; and about the latter period for the general public to find it out.

Talbot made desperate efforts for a foothold, and in succession interviewed all the big men. They were sorry but they were firm. Each had been hard hit by the fire; each had himself to cover; each was forced by circ.u.mstances to grasp every advantage. Again, they were sorry.

"Yes, they are!" cried Talbot; "they just reach out and grab what ought to be my profits! Well, it's the game. I'd do the same myself."

By that night we knew that Talbot had lost every piece of property he owned--or thought he owned. The destruction of the Ward Block swept away every cent of income, with the exception of the dividends from the Wharf Company stock. These latter could not begin to meet the obligations of interest and agreed payments on the other property.

The state of affairs became commonly known in about ten days simply because, in those rapid times, obligations were never made nor money lent for longer periods than one month. At the end of each thirty days they had to be renewed. Naturally Talbot could not renew them.

We knew all that long in advance, and we faced the situation with some humour.

"Well, boys," said Talbot, "here we are. About a year ago, as I remember it, our a.s.sets were a bundle of newspapers and less than a hundred dollars. Haven't even got a newspaper now, but I reckon among us we could just about sc.r.a.pe up the hundred dollars."

"I've got nearer twenty-seven hundred in my belt," I pointed out.

An embarra.s.sed silence fell for a moment; then Talbot spoke up, picking his words very carefully.

"We've talked that over, Frank," said he, "and we've come to the conclusion that you must keep that and go home, just as you planned to do. You're the only man of us who has managed to keep what he has made.

Johnny falls overboard and leaves his in the bottom of the Sacramento; Yank gets himself busted in a road-agent row; I--I--well, I blow soap bubbles! You've kept at it, steady and strong and reliable, and you deserve your good luck. You shouldn't lose the fruits of your labour because we, each in our manner, have been a.s.sorted fools."

I listened to this speech with growing indignation; and at its conclusion I rose up full of what I considered righteous anger. My temper is very slow to rouse, but when once it wakes, it takes possession of me.

"Look here, you fellows!" I cried, very red in the face, they tell me.

"You answer me a few questions. Are we or are we not partners? Are we or are we not friends? Do you or do you not consider me a low-lived, white-livered, mangy, good-for-nothing yellow pup? Why, confound your pusillanimous souls, what do you mean by talking to me in that fas.h.i.+on?