Calico Palace (38 page)

Loren spoke to Kendra. “They must have had a mighty hard time getting here.”

Looking at their haggard faces, Archwood said, “I don’t understand why the captain took so many passengers aboard.”

Loren could not reply to this. He did not understand it either.

Marny was exclaiming in amazement. “They keep on coming! Boat after boat—where did they
put
so many? And aren’t they the worst looking—” Her voice broke into a squeal. “Look! Oh look! Norman!”

She began to call out, in a tone of delight.

“Norman! Norman Lamont!”

In the general hubbub, nobody six feet away could have heard her, and none of the steamer’s passengers had yet come so close. Marny caught Archwood’s hand with such force that she nearly threw him off his horse.

“Warren Archwood, I told you so! Don’t ever laugh at me again. I told you so, I told you so—”

“What are you—” Archwood was demanding, but if she heard him she gave no sign of it. She had thrust her horse’s bridle into his hand and was scrambling to the ground.

“Wait for me, all of you,” she ordered. “Here, Warren, take the glass—I was never so happy in my life—I told you so!” Her voice rose again. “Norman!”

If she said any more they could not hear it, for by this time Marny was too far away. Holding up her skirt, she was running downhill toward the point. The road was full of people, but Marny was making her way among them with such delighted energy that she was speedily getting where she wanted to go. She had thought to pull off her bonnet, so the sun on her red hair would flash like a beacon. Waving the bonnet over her head, she was trying to catch the eye of somebody below.

Through her own glass Kendra had a clear view of what was happening.

As Marny waved the bonnet above her torchlike hair, a man laboring upward from the landing place caught sight of her. He stopped as if in shock. His chin dropped, his eyes widened. For a moment he stared in disbelief. Then a sudden smile lit up his face. As Marny pushed nearer, he began to laugh in joyful amazement.

The stranger was a lean dark fellow with black eyes, sharp nose, and black hair going gray. He had a black moustache and a small pointed beard, both sadly untended now. He wore no hat, and his suit was rumpled as if he had slept in it. With one hand he lugged a heavy-looking carpetbag, with the other he had been helping a girl who was climbing the road beside him, carrying a bag of her own. But at sight of Marny he had let go of the other girl, and now was waving eagerly, as glad to see Marny as she was to see him.

The girl beside him was young and slender, but like the other women from the steamer she was so bedraggled that it was hard to tell if she was pretty or not. The man said something to her, apparently a few words of explanation. The girl gave a weary nod, and again they both began to climb. While they pushed upward Marny elbowed her way down toward them, and when at last they met, Marny and the man caught each other in a joyous hug.

Kendra lowered her glass and turned to Archwood. Holding his own glass to his eyes, he was watching in surprise and displeasure. Archwood was not a man who would make a scene in public, but his face had darkened angrily. Whoever that stranger might be, Archwood was not happy at the way Marny was greeting him.

Kendra put her hand on his sleeve. “Mr. Archwood,” she said, and again, “Mr. Archwood! May I tell you something?”

A memory had popped into her mind. A few minutes ago she had noticed the belt in which Marny wore her little gun. The first time Marny had shown her that gun they had been in their leafy “bathroom” on the way to Shiny Gulch. Marny had said,

“This was a present from the man who ran the best gambling parlor in New York. A Frenchman from New Orleans, named Norman Lamont. I used to be one of his dealers.”

Marny said Norman had gone back to New Orleans because he thought it was the best gambling town in the country. She had added,

“There never was anything between Norman and me. He always had a girl of his own. But I admired him. He had real talent.”

Now as both Loren and Archwood turned to her with puzzled faces, Kendra said,

“I think I know who Marny’s friend is. A famous gambler—Marny told me about him.”

She explained that Marny had been one of Norman’s dealers in New York.

“I don’t know the girl with him,” Kendra added. “Maybe she’s his wife.”

“Possibly,” said Archwood. Kendra was glad to observe that he spoke with a flicker of amusement.

Putting his glass to his eyes again, Archwood turned back to look for Marny. With Norman and his girl friend, Marny was making her way back up the hill. Marny had taken the bag from the girl and was now carrying it for her. She raised her free hand in a gesture to Kendra and Loren and Archwood. Kendra and Loren waved back. Archwood waited, to hear what Marny herself was going to say.

He did not have to wait long. Marny came hurrying up, half out of breath. Dropping the bag, she grabbed Archwood’s hand.

“Warren, our fortune is made! This is Norman Lamont, the smartest sporting man that ever turned a card!”

She spoke with such innocent exuberance that it was plain even to Archwood that in Norman he himself had no rival. Archwood held out his hand.

“How do you do. My name is Warren Archwood.”

Norman smiled. As she watched him, the word that came to Kendra’s mind was
sharp.
Norman’s look at this new acquaintance—and probably at every new acquaintance—was a look of appraisal. He seemed to be asking—What use can you be to me? But his smile was quick, and there were crinkles of humor around his eyes.

—Sharp, thought Kendra, maybe too sharp, but I can see why Marny likes him. I like him myself.

Norman was saying to Archwood, “Marny has been telling me about the gambling tent. Sounds interesting.”

His accent had a trace of French. It was not the accent of a man who had recently learned English; Kendra judged that he had grown up speaking both languages, so that his French was likely to be slightly American, as his English was slightly French.

Marny had turned to the girl. She told them this was Norman’s friend Rosabel (she said nothing about her being his wife, and they had not expected her to). She said Rosabel could play the piano. Marny had not met Rosabel before, and this was all she had had time to learn as they came up the hill.

Rosabel was a brunette with a well-shaped nose and chin, and eyebrows so thick and silky that they were like strips of black velvet above her eyes. Her face was dirty and so was her dress and so was the tattered scarf she had tied over her head. But Kendra could see now that she was a handsome wench and also she had the look of a clever one.

—Of course she’s clever, thought Kendra. If she were stupid Norman would never have brought her here.

Rosabel smiled up at them, saying, “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.”

Her speech had no trace of French, nor was it typical of anything else. It was merely rather common. Her manner was friendly, with a saucy self-confidence. No doubt Rosabel’s schooling had been scant. But she had her own sort of education and she knew how to make the most of it.

While Norman and Rosabel were getting better acquainted with Archwood, Loren spoke to Kendra in an undertone. She had invited Marny and Archwood to lunch—was there enough to take care of these other two as well? “They can tell us,” said Loren, “about the voyage of the steamer, and what’s been going on in the States.”

As Kendra was as eager as Loren to hear what they had to tell, she said she could manage, and gave the invitation. They accepted with enthusiasm. Marny said this was one day the Blackbeards could open the Calico Palace without her, and they would all four come to lunch as soon as Norman and Rosabel had had time to go home with her and get washed.

With Serena’s help Kendra set out a meal. It had to be hastily prepared, but if the food on the steamer had been as meager as she suspected, she thought it would make little difference what she served as long as there was plenty of it.

When her guests arrived Norman and Rosabel wore borrowed clothes because, as they said, their own were not fit to be seen. Archwood’s coat was too wide for Norman, Marny’s skirt was too long for Rosabel, but they did not care. They were happy because they had reached San Francisco alive, which many times during the journey had seemed doubtful. They were happy at sitting down before a table with knives and forks and napkins. And as Kendra had foreseen, they were ecstatic at having all they wanted to eat.

Loren told them not to try to talk until they had finished their lunch—a needless remark, for they had not thought of trying. But at last they had had enough. Loren brought out brandy, Kendra poured coffee and told Serena to leave the dishes. They all went into the parlor. Rosabel saw the sofa and with a sigh of joy flung herself upon it. Norman sat on the floor, his back against the wall. As there were only four chairs besides the sofa, Loren and Ralph sat on the floor too. Kendra and Serena and Marny took three of the chairs, and Archwood—who was not fond of floor-sitting—gratefully took the one left over.

Sipping coffee and brandy, they listened. Norman and Rosabel, with sighs and shudders and—now that it was over—with laughter, told them how the first Forty-niners had come to California.

“W
ELL, IT WAS THIS
way,” said Norman. “Those men who had organized the steamboat line, they were a smart bunch. Their
plan
was good.”

Norman lounged on the floor, his shoulders against the wall, his hands with the brandy glass dangling between his knees. As he paused, Rosabel nestled deeper among the sofa cushions, luxuriating in the first comfort she had known in months. Norman went on, his French accent giving a piquant turn to his words.

“The plan was like this. Now that California was American, they figured that a lot of Americans would want to come here—to live, or just to look it over. And these people would like a quicker way to get here than taking wagons across the plains, or ships around Cape Horn. The quicker way would be to go across the Isthmus of Panama.”

His listeners nodded. Norman said,

“So in New York these men organized the steamboat line. They planned to send steamers from New York to Chagres.”

“Chagres!” Rosabel echoed in a voice of horror.

“Chagres?” Marny repeated. “Where’s that?”

“I never heard of it,” said Archwood, “but probably Loren knows. He’s a seaman.”

Loren nodded, but made a gesture toward Norman, who explained.

“I hadn’t heard of it either, but”—he said with a shiver—“I sure do know about it now. Chagres is a port on the Atlantic side of the Isthmus. The plan was that a steamer would set out from New York, stop at New Orleans to take on anybody who wanted to start from there, and go on to Chagres. The passengers would get off and the steamer would go back to New York.”

“Then what?” asked Loren.

“Well, at the same time,” said Norman, “the steamboat men were building some other steamers to operate on the west coast. These would go from New York around South America to San Francisco. Once they got here, they would stay on the Pacific side, running up and down between San Francisco and Panama City.” He glanced at Loren. “I guess you know—I didn’t—Panama City is on the Pacific side of the Isthmus.”

Again Loren nodded. Norman took a sip of brandy and continued,

“The people on their way to California would cross the Isthmus from Chagres to Panama City. At Panama City they would get aboard one of the steamers that ran between there and San Francisco.”

“How were these people,” asked Marny, “going to get across the Isthmus?”

From the sofa Rosabel gave a shuddering sigh. Norman began to chuckle, but at the same time he shuddered too.

“The plan was to build a railroad across,” he said. “But until they could do this, a traveler would have to make his own way from one side to the other. But they said the Isthmus was only about fifty miles wide, so this wouldn’t be too much trouble.” He gave an expressive Latin shrug. “The fact is, I saw all this in the papers but I didn’t pay much attention. I wasn’t thinking about California. I had a nice business in New Orleans—card parlor, good dealers, music by Rosabel—”

Marny glanced at Rosabel, evidently calculating how her talents could best be used at the Calico Palace. Norman went on with his story.

He said the first Pacific steamer, the one they had seen this morning, fittingly named the
California,
had left New York last fall, bound for San Francisco. Midshipman Beale had brought his news of gold, but he had not stirred much excitement. The
California
had berths for a hundred people. If anybody in New York had wanted to buy a ticket to the land of gold, he could have done so. But nobody did.

However, the captain of the steamer, Mr. Forbes, had been told that on his way up the Pacific Coast he was to stop at Panama City. Here he would meet a group of Americans on their way to San Francisco. These people were not looking for gold. They were army officers with their wives, men sent to fill government posts, directors of the steamboat line who wanted to look over their new territory, and four clergymen going out to set up churches. There were also two or three young men of business, who intended to join the growing Pacific trade. One of these had his wife with him, and he had chosen to go this way because of the agreeable companions she would have on the journey. Not wanting to make the long voyage around South America, these twenty-odd persons had planned to sail to Chagres on the first steamer of the Atlantic line, and cross the Isthmus to Panama City.

Captain Forbes set out on his journey. He did not expect it to be easy. No vessel had ever steamed its way around South America. Captain Forbes knew this voyage would test his worth as a seaman and as a commander. But he expected the test to concern wind and waves and unruly sailors. The poor man had no idea what lay ahead of him.

He sailed from New York on the sixth of October, 1848, bound for Panama City and San Francisco. Eight weeks later, on the first of December, the steamer
Falcon
left New York, bound for New Orleans and Chagres. On board the
Falcon
were the ladies and gentlemen who expected to cross the Isthmus and meet Captain Forbes on the other side.