Far From Home

by Val Wood

  The trail was well used and they passed many burnt-out waggons, much discarded equipment and the bodies of horses and mules which had been left to rot. They had encouraged each other whenever any one of them was weary, but once they had arrived in San Francisco, dissent began to set in.

  James and Matt called a meeting one day to say that they had decided to move off together. They were going up a tributary of the Sacramento river. ‘It makes sense,’ Matt pronounced. ‘If we split we can cover more ground. We can meet up here – say, in a couple of months – and compare findings, and,’ he added, ‘if any of us finds a good vein then we can join forces and set up as a team again.’

  Jed, Larkin and young Tod had glanced at each other and Edward realized that they probably wanted to do the same, but he knew that he would hold them back. He was not as physically strong as they were, he had developed a cough and his chest often ached. He also realized that his skills at reading documents were probably not now needed as they had picked up plenty of information on what to do and how, from other experienced travellers.

  ‘Well, look here,’ he’d said. ‘I think I’ll hang about San Francisco for a while. Rest up a bit and have a look around. See what’s happening, you know.’

  ‘You’ve no money,’ Larkin reminded him. ‘And nuthin’ to sell.’

  ‘Ah! No. So I haven’t. But then none of us have!’

  ‘I’ll give you my cards.’ Jed fished in his bag and handed Edward the dog-eared pack. ‘You play a good hand. You might make some money.’

  Edward looked down at the pack in his hand and felt strangely touched. It was the only thing Jed had managed to hang onto. He had pushed his precious wheelbarrow when the waggon had gone, then borne it on his back for miles, before finally discarding it on a mountain top when he couldn’t carry it any further. He had looked back as he’d walked away and wept.

  ‘I’d leave you my horse,’ Matt said. ‘But we’ll need him. Besides, he’s not going to last much longer and I want to be with him when the time comes.’ He gave an embarrassed grin. ‘I guess I’m just a sentimental ol’ farm boy!’

  Edward was aware that he looked rough and dirty, so on his first foray alone into the city he had found the cheapest, lowest bar possible and joined a table of men at cards. They’d guffawed on hearing his English accent, but curiosity had inclined them to let him play. Whilst they’d questioned him on where he was from, he had taken stock of them, seen they were drunk and ignorant, and managed to win enough to pay for a trip to the barber.

  With his hair cut and beard trimmed and his clothes brushed down, he ventured into another slightly less rough saloon, where he made sufficient money for a bath and something to eat. The other men had left him one of the canvas tents, which he carefully rolled up every morning and carried with him, for the last thing he wanted was for someone to steal it, leaving him without shelter. He pitched it every evening as near to a baker’s shop as possible, in the hope that the following morning he could steal a loaf of bread or pastry from the tray which the baker left cooling near his open door.

  He lived by his wits, which had been considerably sharpened since escaping from the Mississippi river boat. He obtained work as a porter down on the wharf, which bought him food, a second-hand coat and boots and a blanket, for the nights were cold. Then he applied for work as a barman in a saloon. He called himself Eddie Newsom. Word got around about the Englishman, for he couldn’t disguise his accent, and he would be offered drinks just so that they could hear him say Thank you so much. So very kind, phrases which became more and more cultured and refined as he perceived their effect. The miners would hold their sides as they bellowed with laughter, and mimic him, whilst he would smile and pocket the money and make one drink last all evening.

  The saloon owner increased his wages when Edward told him he was thinking of moving on, for there was no doubt that he was a big draw. The saloon girls trusted him because he treated them with respect and not as whores, which was what they were. One of them, Dolly, invited him to her bed. ‘For you, honey, there’ll be no charge,’ she whispered, and when he asked why, she winked and said she was curious.

  He accepted her offer. She was nicely rounded and attractive and it was a pleasure to make love to her. Afterwards she cried. ‘Honey,’ she said. ‘I’ve been with many men, but none like you. It’s the first time I’ve been treated like a lady.’ She raised her eyebrows and gave a little wriggle of her hips. ‘And I’d been told that Englishmen were cold!’

  Larkin, Tod and Jed turned up from time to time and if Edward had any money he bought them supper and a bed for the night, for he was very conscious of his debt to them. They had panned river beds and sluiced the streams and came away with a small handful of gold dust. They used this to buy food and more tools, but they could only afford the simplest troughs and sluice boxes. Of James and Matt nothing was heard.

  Edward took to wandering around the city, looking for some opportunity or the chance to gamble, for he didn’t attempt this in the saloon where he worked. There were numerous bar rooms which seemed to spring up overnight; stores where anything could be bought, from picks and spades to sacks of flour, providing the customers could pay cash. Boards were placed outside the doors proclaiming Cash only. No credit. Don’t ask.

  The city was awash with humanity, a congestion of shacks, shanties and hovels. Desperate men stood on street corners begging for bread or trying to sell a washed-out claim which, they assured anyone prepared to listen, hadn’t yet petered out. Indians roamed the streets, their faces vacant as they succumbed to the white man’s liquor. Chinese sat outside their dark cabins smoking pipes of opium, and Edward would stop for a moment and wish that he could buy an ounce to raise his spirits.

  He was careful not to venture into the city at night, for that was when drunken fights broke out. He worked from six in the evening until four in the morning, when he fell into the bed above the saloon, which came as part of his wages. He then slept until eleven, when he began his prowl around the city.

  He watched the gold prices as they fluctuated, and saw them rising higher. He pondered on whether, the next time Larkin and Jed came by, as they’d promised they would, he should travel out to the diggings with them.

  A fight erupted one evening. A group of miners, already well inebriated, came into the saloon. They had struck it rich and were buying drinks for everyone. Edward and the owner, Benton, accepted theirs as usual and Edward put his money in his pocket. Then someone said something disparaging about Edward’s accent. A regular at the saloon took exception on his behalf and in the next minute tables were being overturned, guns were drawn and fists pulled back.

  Edward and Benton swiftly cleared the counter of glasses and bottles and crouched behind it to avoid the flying glasses, chairs and knives. Edward huddled contemplating his beer-stained apron. How have I come to this? Hiding behind a counter of a seedy saloon, thousands of miles from civilization! Not a chance of making any real money or improving my situation.

  When the fighting stopped he worked his way around the saloon, picking up chairs and broken glass and wiping down tables with a cloth, whilst Benton carried on serving at the counter. Some of the girls had gone upstairs with their customers, someone was playing a mouth organ and for a few moments there was calm. Edward bent down beneath a table to clear up some glass and picked up a leather hat that had been knocked off during the fight. He put it on his head whilst he swept up the slivers of glass into a shovel.

  As he swept, he caught sight of a small stone or rock and within it a glint of yellow. He put his cloth over it, scooped it up and stuffed it into his apron pocket.

  ‘Hey! Hey, you English son of a bitch.’ A drunken miner, one of those who had previously been fighting, staggered back into the saloon. ‘You’re wearing my hat!’

  Edward took it off his head and threw it to him. ‘You left it behind,’ he said.

  ‘Left it behind,’ the man mimicked. ‘You damn well stole it.’ He swayed towards Edward and p
oked him in the chest. ‘What you doin’ here anyway in this country? It ain’t yours no more. Damned English!’

  Edward turned away but the man hauled him back. He was big and rough and Edward had no desire to get into an altercation with him, yet he couldn’t help saying, ‘Well, it hasn’t always been yours either.’

  The man glared at him, his eyes bloodshot. ‘You a redskin lover?’

  ‘Not especially,’ Edward replied calmly. ‘But they were here before you, as were the Spaniards.’

  The drunk hit out, catching Edward on the chin and making him stagger. Some of the men sitting at the tables got up, always ready to join in a fight. Edward found himself surrounded, and the faces were not friendly. He was not a fighter and looking for a way out saw Dolly beckoning him from a side door. Beside her was the Chinese girl who washed the dishes and cleaned the floors.

  He ducked as a blow was hurled his way and it found its mark on someone else’s nose. He dropped to the floor as a mêlée erupted and crawled on his hands and knees towards the door. Not the most dignified way of making an exit, he considered, keeping his head down. But I have no wish for a cut lip or a broken nose.

  He rose up as he reached the door, where he could see Dolly’s skirts and the Chinese girl’s bare feet, and then sank into oblivion as a chair crashed over his head.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ‘It seems quite amusing now,’ Edward related later to Jed and Larkin when they finally found him, living in a wooden cabin with the Chinese girl Tsui.

  Whilst the fight was continuing, Dolly and Tsui had managed to drag Edward to his room above the saloon. Dolly asked Tsui to look after him. He had a nasty wound on the back of his head and Dolly had no stomach for blood. She gave Tsui money for ointment and bandages which she bought from a medicine man in Chinatown. Edward moved out of the saloon as soon as he was fit and the girl went with him.

  He wanted to give Jed and Larkin money. The rock which he had found beneath the table, when it was split open, was worth more than he would ever need in the simple life he was leading. But they grinned and refused it, and handed him a leather purse filled with gold dust and pieces of quartz with gold embedded in it.

  ‘We worked out your share, Eddie,’ Larkin told him. ‘Taking into account the fact that you came with nuthin’.’

  Edward shook his head. It was true they had an agreement that they would share if ever they struck gold. ‘But I haven’t worked for it,’ he said, thrusting it back to them. ‘I haven’t been to the diggings. I’ve done nothing to deserve it. You fellows rescued me when I was really down. Keep it,’ he said. ‘Jed, you wanted to build a cabin.’

  ‘Sure I do, and I will.’ His face dropped and he glanced at Larkin.

  ‘When we set out,’ Larkin said, ‘we were all greedy fer gold. That yeller stuff was a magnet drawing us to it. Well, since we got here we’ve seen men go crazy fer it. We’ve seen them hang a man fer jumpin’ somebody’s claim. We finally caught up with James,’ he added. ‘He and Matt worked a claim and had a lucky strike, or so they reckoned, but it ran out and they only made a few dollars.’

  He rubbed his fingers over his stubbled chin. ‘Matt decided to go home. His horse died and he missed his ma and pa. He set off on his own and we’ll never know whether or not he made it back.’

  ‘And James?’ Edward asked quietly. ‘Where’s he?’

  ‘When we found him he was drunk and lying outside a bar. We took him back to his camp and saw the shack he shared with some other miners.’ Larkin shook his head despondently. ‘It was a hovel and I wouldn’t have kept pigs in it. We’ve stayed in some pretty rough places but none so bad as that one. We asked him to come along o’ us, but he said he was on the verge of a big strike.’

  ‘And was he?’ Edward contemplated them as he asked the question. They were sombre men now and the brightness in their eyes had dimmed.

  ‘Nope.’ Jed continued the story. ‘We caught up with him again couple o’ weeks later. In one of his sober moments he told us he’d panned a stream, then somebody jumped his claim. He came away with a sprinkling of gold dust which he spent on liquor. We asked him again to come with us but he refused. He was convinced he was going to make it big.’ He stared down at the floor, rubbing his rough hands together. ‘He’s sure got gold fever,’ he said softly. ‘And he’ll not be cured.’

  ‘Jed and me found gold,’ Larkin said. ‘As much as we need. And the agreement was that we’d share, but Matt’s gone along home and if we give James his due, then he’ll sure enough kill himself with drink.’

  Edward was silent and thought of the handsome quiet young man who hadn’t had much conversation but got on with whatever was expected of him and never complained.

  ‘Tod,’ he said, suddenly remembering the seventeen-year-old. ‘Where’s he?’

  ‘Used his share on a ticket home.’ Larkin grinned. ‘Said his ol’ ma would be wondering where he was!’

  The visitors looked up as Tsui came in, but she hastily backed out again when she saw them. ‘So who’s the Chink?’ Jed said admiringly.

  ‘Tsui,’ Edward said. ‘I can’t pronounce her full name. And she’s not a Chink,’ he admonished. ‘She’s Chinese and she lives with me.’

  Jed pursed his lips. ‘Didn’t think they lived with Europeans!’

  ‘Usually they don’t. She was sold out of her family. She escaped from the man who bought her and made her way to San Francisco where she thought she would find work.’

  ‘As a whore?’

  Edward shook his head. He was very protective of her. ‘No. She scrubbed bar-room floors, washed dishes. Anything but that.’

  ‘So—?’ Jed lifted his eyebrows questioningly. ‘Is she—?’ He let the question hang in the air, but Edward ignored it. He liked to have Tsui around. She kept the cabin clean, shopped and cooked for him and did his washing. She asked for no payment, but she ate with him and they had conversation, she was tender and considerate and sometimes she shared his bed.

  ‘Will you stay in California?’ he asked Larkin and Jed as they took their leave of him.

  ‘Sure we will.’ Larkin answered for both of them.

  ‘So we’ll see you around, Eddie.’

  With some of the money from the rock of gold, as he liked to call it, Edward made a down payment on a run-down saloon and put Dolly in charge of it. She had a stage built and brought in dancing girls and entertainers, and within a few months it was called a theatre saloon. He bought new clothes, cigars and a gold watch and chain, and spent his evenings talking to his customers, giving the big spenders an occasional drink on the house, knowing that they would come back again after such a show of hospitality. But each early morning as the customers drifted away he went home to his cabin and Tsui.

  Then one morning when he arrived home, she wasn’t there. He went to bed and rose at his usual time and she still wasn’t there. He ate a solitary breakfast and then went looking for her. He tried in Chinatown but he only met with impassive faces and a silent shake of heads. She hadn’t been to the saloon and the shops which she frequented hadn’t seen her either.

  He sat on his bed and contemplated that he didn’t have any luck with women and if Tsui didn’t come back, then that was the last time he would ever have a relationship. His marriage to May was a sham, Ruby hadn’t wanted him and the affair with Sofia had been disastrous.

  Dolly commiserated, but remarked, ‘The Orientals have a code of their own. Somebody in Chinatown will know where she is, but they won’t tell you.’

  He spent restless nights worrying about whether she had been snatched and sold again. She was small and pretty and, though he didn’t love her, he was fond of her and missed her calming presence, her delicate hands and sweet smile. After six months, he reluctantly decided that she had gone for good, and went to bed with a compromising Dolly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Wilhelm travelled with Georgiana in a waggon over the plain, and then by canal boat to Philadelphia. Here she would join a steam
ship for New Orleans. He was plainly anxious about her and had given her names of contacts in the newspaper world who would, he assured her, provide help if it was needed.

  ‘You worry too much, Wilhelm! It cannot be any more dangerous than travelling from England to America,’ she said, placatingly. ‘People are doing it all the time. I shall be all right.’

  ‘You had Kitty with you then,’ he said gruffly. ‘You were not alone.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘But as Kitty was then in my employ, I had to make any decisions.’

  ‘Just as you do now,’ he grumbled. ‘You are a difficult woman, Georgiana.’ But he smiled as he said it, and bent to kiss her hand.

  Georgiana had misgivings which she kept to herself. It was true that she would miss Kitty, for she was so very practical, but she couldn’t come with her, not now she had a husband and child and a business to run. The colony at Dreumel’s Creek was steadily becoming established. Ted had set up a trading store which Isaac was running. Kitty had her bakery, and the carpenters had started a co-operative venture where the community could buy or borrow the tools they needed. Wilhelm had bought his cattle which grazed on the fertile meadowland, and other families had moved in with their cattle and livestock.

  Georgiana left Hetty in Kitty’s care and advised her to teach Caitlin to ride. ‘She’s steady,’ she said. ‘She won’t throw her.’ She picked up the tiny girl and hugged her. ‘I’ll miss you, Caitlin,’ she whispered. ‘Just as I’ll miss your mama.’

  When she boarded the steamship for New Orleans, Georgiana was reminded of her journey from Hull to London, and was struck, she knew not why, by a sudden and unexpected pang of homesickness. She recalled sailing out of the Humber dock and seeing the spires and turrets of the churches, the mills and factory chimneys on the skyline. She looked back now and saw Wilhelm watching from the wharfside and felt a warm glow for him, for his dependable character and his strong friendship.

  Lake had gone back to the mountains before she departed. He had looked down at her from his horse, his eyes searching her face before silently turning away, and she had watched from the valley as he rode up the mountainside until at last she could no longer see him.