29 The End Crowns the Work

We were still gazing into those frightful depths when a cheery voice called out:

“What on earth are you two fellows doing with your faces over the edge of that chasm as if you had been glued there?”

I roused up and replied: “I’m looking at Hank Halftrigger, Henry.”

“Hank Halftrigger,” he replied. “Why he’s dead.”

“Yes,” I replied, pointing over the chasm. “He’s dead and his body is lying down there.”

The expression on Henry’s face was one of mingled amazement and perplexity, and then I quickly related the whole of the tragic tale.

“I’d advise you, then,” was Henry’s first comment, “to get back from the edge of that cliff. It has split off once with the weight of Halftrigger and Pike, and another piece might go with you.”

We hadn’t thought of that, and drew back somewhat ashamed of our carelessness. By going further down the mountain we found a slope, which we descended into the canyon. By that means we reached the body of Halftrigger. But it was such a crushed and hideous object that we covered it up with loose stones as quickly as we could and left it.

“What a pity,” said Pike, as we turned away, “that such a feller ez Halftrigger should hev turned out bad. What a great hunter and scout he would hev made. He never knowed what it was to flinch.”

“Yes,” said Henry, “he was a magnificent villain.”

We found the others much worried over our long absence, but their worry changed to astonishment when we told them the cause of it.

“That pirate, Halftrigger, ag’in!” exclaimed Starboard Sam. “Why Cappen Kidd hisself wuz nothin’ but a swab to him. Are you shore he’s dead?”

“No danger of his ever rising again in this world,” said Henry. “His career is over.”

We camped on the mountain that night and resumed the journey the next morning. We found the remainder of the way over the heights not so difficult as we had imagined, and soon emerged into the plain below.

In due time we reached San Francisco again. As we entered with our loaded mules some troublesome questions were asked by the loungers, but those were days when a man could keep his business to himself, and we adhered to that policy. We merely replied that we had been “up country and thought we had some dirt with gold in it.”

We deposited our treasure with the strongest banking and gold dealing firm in San Francisco, and started the next day for the cabin in the mountains to secure the remainder. We reached it without event, but we found that the door had been opened and the cabin occupied by some one else. Henry was the first to enter, and when he looked around He exclaimed:

“I’m glad you told us to leave the meat and other things here, Pike. Look!”

He pointed to the wall. Some one had cut there with a pocket-knife in rude letters the following:

“I thought suthin’ o’ that kind might happen some day,” said Pike, “but I didn’t think it would come so soon. That ought to make us feel good in our consciences, boys.”

The gold had not been, disturbed, and a day’s hard work enabled us to take it all out again and get it ready for transportation on the backs of the mules. We were eating breakfast the morning before our departure when a loud voice hailed us with:

“What ho! my gallant companions! How goes it with you? Still in the gold business, I see.”

We looked up and to our unbounded delight saw Mr. Sheldon approaching.

“I thought I would find you here,” he said, as we crowded about him to shake his hands. “I calculated that you were about due on the return journey, and, as I began to get lonesome a bit, I thought I would come down for a sight of you.”

He accompanied us on the return journey to Frisco, and we passed by his tree home, where we spent a day of rest. We would not let him leave us this time and almost by force as it were took him on with us to San Francisco.

Our gold panned out much better than we thought it would. In fact, nearly all of the two mule-train loads was precious metal, and when we came to divide the proceeds we were amazed at the amount of our wealth. We forced Mr. Sheldon to take a part. He wanted to refuse again, but when he saw we would be very much offended if he did not take some of the treasure he consented at last. But he would take only half a share, and we were compelled to compromise with him on that basis. So we divided the money, for we had sold the gold by weight, into eleven parts, Mr. Sheldon taking one and the other five two parts apiece.

There was plenty for us all. I have now the little memorandum book in which I set down my share, and here it is—$313,215.21. That was a great fortune for those days, a very great fortune indeed for one so young as Henry or I to possess, and when all the details were attended to and the money was safely in the bank to our credit we felt as rich as Rothschild himself.

A few days later Mr. Sheldon left us again for the wilderness, and we heard from him occasionally through wandering hunters of game or gold, and he always sent us his warmest regards.

The next day after Mr. Sheldon’s departure Pike, Henry and I were walking down one of the main streets of San Francisco when we saw two men of very conspicuous appearance approaching. They were dressed with a magnificence that attracted the attention of everybody, and their bearing possessed a dignity that befitted the splendor of their raiment. They wore tall and very shining silk hats. The buttons on their rich black broadcloth suits were many and large, and fine diamonds sparkled on their fingers and in their shirt fronts.

These two resplendent figures stopped in front of us and bowed very low. Then one of the men, his whole manner betokening his importance, spoke as follows: “Messieurs, je vous saloue! Allow me to have ze pleasure and ze honaire to introduce to you my et bon camarade, Monsieur I’Admiral Samuel Sargent, of Nantucket, Massachusetts, Les Etats Unis. He ees ze most deesteenguished American Admiral. He has fought in more zan forty wars and he has taken more zan seexty ships in single combat. He ees ze terror of ze seas and hees name ees ze terror of ze world. Monsieur Pike, Monsieur Joseph Fielding, Monsieur Henry Fielding. I have ze honaire and ze pleasure of making you acquainted with my great friend, ze Admiral Sargent.”

The “Admiral” bowed again with great dignity and condescension and we bowed with humility. Then the Admiral spoke as follows:

“Gen’lemen I hev sailed over all the seas an’ visited all the ports o’ the earth, an’ never hev I found a finer shipmate than my friend here, the French gen’teman, with whom I now wish to make you acquainted. We’ve shipped together on some hard cruises, and we’ve been mates in many dangers. Gen’lemen it warms my heart to be able to introduce to you my friend, Monsieur Pierre Bonneau, of France, Prince of Paris, Duke of Versailles and Count of the Seine. Prince, these are my friends, Mr. Pike, and Joe and Henry Fielding.”

The Prince bowed and we bowed back. Then we turned and walked with these illustrious personages up the the street.

“How long do you mean to keep this thing up, Sam, you and Bonneau?” asked Pike.

“We don’t know yet,” said Starboard Sam, “but we wanted to see how it would feel. We’re rich, you know, now and can do as we please.”

Pike uttered no word of criticism. He knew, as we all knew, that Sam and Bonneau were fully aware of the value of money and would take care of their fortunes. This they soon showed, for after purchasing their splendid outfits of clothing they were very careful with their means and rather leaned towards the side of economy.

We remained in San Francisco for some time uncertain what to do. It was no longer necessary for us to work for our bread, but we did not like to be idle. While we were hesitating Bonneau and Sam came to us and said there was a ship sailing soon for Panama to connect with another from the other side of the isthmus for New York. They believed they would go on her. Bonneau wanted to visit his relatives in France and to tell the tale of his wealth and distribute some of it among the most needy of them. Sam had similar designs on Nantucket.

“Why not go along with them to New York,” said Henry, “and see something of the great world?”

Bonneau and Sam instantly clamored for us to make the trip.

“Will you go, Pike?” I asked.

“I’ll do it,” said the hunter, with emphasis. “I’ve been explorin’ the wilderness for most uv my life; now I’ll explore a big city, an’ see what happens.”

We made our preparations very quickly, and all took passage on the same vessel.

As a sunlit evening faded we passed out of the Golden Gate. Pike, Bonneau and Sam were below arranging their baggage. Henry and I stood in the stern of the vessel, taking a last look at the bay. As the houses sank from sight and the lights glimmered and went out, I said:

“We have been through many dangers, Henry, but we have succeeded at last.”

“Yes,” he replied, “and Providence has been with us through all.”

Then the night came upon the waters and the stars began to twinkle through the darkness.

▲