CHAPTER LIX
THE COMSTOCK FURORE
Press reports gave full and wide sensation to the capture of the "Chapman." Chief Lees took every credit for the thwarting of a "Plot of Southern Pirates" who "Conspired to Prey Upon the Golden Galleons From California." Thus the headlines put it. And Benito was relieved to find no mention of himself. Harpending he knew and liked, despite his Southern sympathies; Rubery he had met; an English lad, high-spirited and well connected. In fact, John Bright soon had his errant nephew out of jail. And when, a few months later, Harpending and Greathouse were released, Benito deemed the story happily ended. He heard nothing from McTurpin. No doubt the fellow was dead.
That troublesome proclivity of wooing chance was uppermost again in Windham's mind. It was only natural perhaps, for all of San Francisco gambled now in mining stocks. The brokers swarmed like bees along Montgomery street; every window had its shelf of quartz and nuggets interspersed with pictures of the "workings" at Virginia City. It was Nevada now that held the treasure-seeker's eye.
Within a year it had produced six millions. Scores of miners staked their claims upon or near the Comstock lode and most of them sought capital in San Francisco. Washerwomen, bankers, teamsters--every class was bitten by the microbe of hysterical investment. Some had made great fortunes; none apparently thus far had lost.
In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick invited.
Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's financiers. He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate. I've made ten thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining stock, Benito?"
"No," retorted Windham. He suffered Lick to lead him to the bar. Will O'Brien, a shrewd-faced merry Irishman, took their orders. He and Flood had bought an interest in Virginia City ... "a few fate only, but it's goin' t' make us rich, me lad," he said enthusiastically as he set their glasses out upon the bar. "We'll all be nabobs soon. Ain't that the God's truth, Mr. Ralston?"
"Sure, my boy," a deep voice answered heartily. Windham turned and saw a man of forty, tall, well-molded, with a smiling forceful countenance. He seemed to smack of large affairs.
Benito sipped his liquor, listening absorbedly while Ralston rattled off facts, figures, prospects in connection with the Comstock lode.
"The Nevada mines will pay big," Benito heard him tell a group of bearded men who hung upon his utterances. "BIG! You can bet your bottom dollar on it. If you've money, don't let it stay idle."
Benito bade his friend good-bye and went out, thinking deeply. He wondered what Alice would say if....
Nesbitt of The Bulletin interrupted his musing. "Heard the news, Benito? We're to have a stock exchange next month."
"The brokers are opposed to it. They don't want staple values, because, now and then, they can pick up a bargain or drive a hard trade. And they can peddle 'wildcat' stocks to tenderfeet.... We must stop that sort of thing."
"Quite so," said Windham vaguely comprehending. Nesbitt babbled on. "There are to be forty charter members, with a fund of $2000."
He took a pencil from his pocket. Tapped Benito's shirt front with it. "Buy a little Gould and Curry.... I've just had a tip that it will rise." He hurried on.
* * * * *
Windham let his clients wait that afternoon. He took a walk toward Twin Peaks on Market street. That lordly, though neglected, thoroughfare began to make pretensions toward commercial activity. Opposite Montgomery street was St. Ignatius Church. Farther down toward the docks were lumber yards and to the west were little shops, mostly one-storied, widely scattered. Chinese laundries, a livery stable or two. The pavements were stretches of boardwalk interspersed with sand or mud, trodden into passable trails. Down the broad center ran a track on which for years a dummy engine had labored back and forth, drawing flat cars laden with sand. Now most of the sand hills were leveled above Kearny street. Benito picked his way along the northern side of Market street till he came to Hayes. There the new horse car line ran to Hayes park. One was just leaving as he reached the corner, so he hopped aboard. As the driver took his fare he nodded cordially. Benito recognized him as a former client.
"Listen," said the fellow, "you did me a good turn once, Mr. Windham. Now I'll return the compliment." He leaned nearer, whispered. "Buy some Hale and Norcross mining stock. I've got a tip straight from the president. It's going up."
* * * * *
In the spring of '64, Virginia City mines still yielded treasure harvests unbelievable. Windham's bank account had risen to the quarter-million mark. Month by month he watched his assets grow by leaps more marvelous than even his romantic fancy could fore-vision. Stocks were climbing at a rate which raised the value of each share $100 every thirty days.
San Francisco's Stock and Exchange Board, the leading of the three such institutions, had quarters in the Montgomery block. Electric telegraphs, which flashed its stock quotations round the world, made it a money power in London, Paris and New York.
Benito had a home now in South Park, the city's new, exclusive residence section. From there the Omnibus Street Railway Company, in which he was a large stockholder, operated horse cars to North Beach. He wore a high hat now and spectacles. There were touches of gray in his hair.
As he entered the exchange, a nimble-fingered Morse-operator was marking figures on a blackboard.
Windham heard his name called; turning, met the outstretched hand of William Ralston. They chatted for a time on current matters. There was to be a Merchants' Exchange. Already ground was broken for the building. The Bank of California, one of Ralston's enterprises, would soon open its doors. Ralston was in a dozen ventures, all of them constructive, public spirited. He counted his friends by the hundreds. Suddenly he turned from contemplation of the blackboard to Benito.
"Carrying much Virginia City nowadays?"
Benito told him. Ralston knit his brow, deliberating. Then he said with crisp decision, "Better start unloading soon, my son."
Benito was surprised; expostulated. Ophir, Gould and Curry, Savage were as steady as a rock. He didn't want to lose a "bag of money." Ralston heard him, nodded curtly, walked away. Disturbed, rebellious, Benito quit the place. He wanted quiet to digest the older man's advice. Ralston had the name of making few mistakes. Restlessly Benito sought an answer to his problem. In the end he went home undecided and retired dinnerless, explaining that he had a headache. He awoke with a fever the next morning. Alice, frightened by his haggard eyes, sent Po Lun for a doctor.
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