CHAPTER XLVIII

SHERMAN RESIGNS

On Saturday, June 7, Benito found Coleman sitting at his desk in the executive chamber of Fort Gunnysacks. His usually cheerful countenance wore an anxious look, a look of inner conflict. He glanced up, almost startled, as Benito entered.

"Fred Macondray and his party are outside," said Windham. "They would like to see you."

"What do they wish?" asked Coleman in a harassed tone.

"They're leaving for Benicia today to see the Governor," Benito answered. "Want your final word on mediation matters."

Coleman rose with a brisk movement. He paced the room half a dozen times, his hands behind him, his head slightly bent, before he spoke.

"Bring 'em in. Call Bluxome and as many of the Executive Committee as you can find."

Benito departed. Presently there filed into the room nine gentlemen, headed by Macondray. They belonged neither to the Vigilantes nor to the Law and Order Party. And they were now bent on averting a clash between the two.

"William," Macondray, acting as the spokesman, "what message shall we take the Governor?"

Bluxome, Smiley, Dempster and others of the Executive Committee entered. Coleman explained to them the purpose of Macondray and his friends. "What shall we say to them, boys?" he asked.

"Put it in your own words," Bluxome said. "We'll stand by what you say."

Coleman faced Macondray and his companions. "Tell J. Neely Johnson," he announced, "that if he will consent to withdraw his proclamation we will, on our part, make no further parade of our forces on the street, nor will we resist by force any orders of the court."

Bluxome and his companions nodded. Macondray looked a trifle puzzled. "Suppose he declines to withdraw the proclamation?" he asked, hesitatingly.

"Then," the voice of Coleman rang, "we promise nothing."

* * * * *

On the boat which took them to Benicia, Macondray and his friends met Major-General Sherman of the State Militia. They found him striding up and down the deck, chewing his cigar. Macondray and he compared notes. Sherman had been summoned for an interview with Johnson. The Governor planned a final onslaught of persuasion, hoping General Wool would change his mind; would furnish arms for the militia.

"If he doesn't, it's useless. Men can't fight without guns." Macondray thought he noted an undertone of relief in Sherman's words.

"Do you think he'll give them to you?" Macondray asked in an undertone. Sherman slowly shook his head. He walked away, as though he dreaded further questioning.

* * * * *

At Benicia, Sherman and the Macondray party rode up in the same 'bus to the Solano House. Sherman was admitted at once. The committee was asked to wait. Sherman entered a room blue with tobacco smoke. It contained four men, besides the Governor: Chief Justice David S. Terry, a tall man with a hard face, sat tilted back in a chair, his feet on the Governor's table. He had not taken off his hat. Without moving or apparently looking in that direction, he spat at regular intervals toward the fireplace. Near him sat Edward S. Baker, statesmanlike, impressive, despite his drink-befuddlement; Edward Jones, of Palmer, Cook & Co., smaller, shrewd, keen and avaricious-eyed, was pouring a drink from a decanter; Volney Howard, fat, pompous, aping a blasé, decadent manner, stood, as usual, near the mantel.

They all looked up as Sherman entered. Terry favored him with a half-concealed scowl; Howard with an open sneer; Jones with deprecating hostility. Baker smiled. The Governor, who seemed each day to grow more nervous and irritable, held out his hand.

"Well, well, Sherman," he greeted, "glad to see you." Then his brow knit in a kind of puzzled provocation. "What's that Vigilante Committee doing here with you?"

Terry grunted and spat. Sherman looked them over with a repulsion he could not completely conceal. They were men of violent prejudices. It was bad to see the Governor so completely in their grasp.

"They are not Vigilantes, your Excellency," he began with punctilious hauteur.

"The hell they're not!" said Terry.

Sherman ignored him completely. "My meeting with them was purely casual," he resumed. "They are prominent, impartial citizens of San Francisco, seeking to make peace. They have, I understand, seen Coleman; are prepared to offer certain compromises."

"Aha!" cried Howard, "the rabble is caving in. They're ready to quit."

Johnson looked at Sherman as if for confirmation. He shook his head. "Far from it."

"Cannot they state their business in writing?" asked Johnson.

"Send them packing, the damned pork merchants!" Terry said, as if issuing a command.

Again the Governor seemed to hesitate. Again his glance sought Sherman's. "That would be unwise," returned the soldier.

The Governor summoned a clerk. "Ask the committee to put their business in writing!" he ordered. When the man had gone he once more addressed Sherman: "Wool absolutely refuses to provide the militia with arms."

Terry's fist smote the table with a crash. A stream of vituperation issued from his lips. General Wool, the Vigilance Committee and Admiral Farragut were vilified in terms so crude that even the other men surveyed the Chief Justice with distaste.

Sherman turned to the door. "Governor, I've had enough of this," he spoke sharply. "I shall send you my resignation tonight." He went out, leaving Johnson to mutter distressedly. "Never mind," said Terry, "give his job to Volney. He'll drive the damned pork merchants into the sea."

"What about rifles and ammunition?" asked Howard with sudden practicality.

They looked at each other blankly. Then the wily Jones came forward with a shrewd suggestion. "Wool can't refuse you the regular quota of arms for annual replenishment," he said. "Get those by requisition. Ship them down to San Francisco. Reub Maloney is here. He'll carry them down in a sloop."

"But they're only a few hundred guns," said the Governor.

"They'll help," contended Jones. "They'll make a showing."

"Suppose Coleman hears about it; he'll seize them on the bay."

"Then he'll commit an act of 'piracy'," Baker said, explosively.

Terry took his feet from the table, rose. "By God!" he exclaimed, "there's an idea! Piracy! A capital offense!" He crammed his hands into his pockets and strode heavily up and down.

"Coleman's not likely to hear of our sending these arms," said the Governor.

Jones poured another drink and sipped it. "Isn't he, though?" He laughed softly. "You fellows just leave that to me." He caught up his hat and went out.

"A smart little man," remarked Howard Baker, complacently.

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