Lost Lenore Part 26

Another of the men in the cart now took off his hat; and the murmuring noise once more subsided.

"Fellow citizens!" said this second speaker, "I am not here either to apologise for, or sanction the crime this man has committed. I know, as well as any man present, the necessity that exists in a land like this, or, rather, in the state of society in which we live, for the severe punishment of crime. All I ask of you is, to let this man be punished by the laws of the country. A system of government--of which you all approve--has lately been established among us; and arrangements have been made for the trial and punishment of criminals. Do not take the law into your own hands. People living in the civilised communities of Europe and our own country are crying `Shame! shame!' at many transactions, similar to this, which have occurred in California; and the same words will be uttered against the proceedings that are taking place here to-day. I am a magistrate; and have with me a constable. I will pledge my life that if you will allow us to remove the prisoner, he shall be brought before a jury and tried by the laws of our country. I trust that no good citizen will make any objection to our taking that course with him."

The magistrate then put on his hat--as a signal that _he_ had nothing more to say.

The murmur of the crowd rose higher; and there were heard many cries of dissent from what had been last said.

"He's had a fair trial--hang him!" exclaimed one.

"Hang him now, or he'll escape!" vociferated another.

There were also a few voices raised on the other side. "Give him up!

Let the magistrate have him!" shouted these last.

A man now stood up in the cart; and called for a show of hands.

All in favour of delivering the prisoner into the custody of the law officers were requested to hold up their right hands.

About twenty arms were extended into the air!

A number of these belonged to men who had the appearance of being what in California were called "Sydney Ducks"--old convicts from New South Wales; but most of the hands raised were those of well-known gamblers-- all of whom have an instinctive horror of Justice Lynch.

Those who were in favour of the prisoner being hung, _then and there_, were next invited to hold up their right hands.

In an instant about three hundred arms were held aloft. All of them that I saw were terminated with strong, sinewy fists, stained only with toil, and belonging to miners--the most respectable portion of the population.

This silent, but emphatic, declaration was considered final. After it had been delivered, there commenced a scene of wild excitement.

I rushed through the crowd, towards the tree under which the criminal stood. As I came up to him, I saw that a rope had been, already noosed around his neck.

A man was climbing into the live oak--for the purpose of pa.s.sing the rope over one of its branches.

"Stop!" I cried, "stop for one minute! Let me ask this man a question, before he dies."

Mr Leary turned towards me with a stare of surprise; and for the first time, since being brought upon the ground, did he appear to take any interest in what was pa.s.sing!

"I am the Rolling Stone," I shouted to him, "Tell me, where is my mother?"

The murderer smiled, and such a smile! It was the same fiendish expression he had thrown at me, when I last saw him in the boat in Dublin Bay.

"Tell me where I can find my mother!" I again asked, nearly frantic with rage.

At this moment the slack end of the lazo, that had been pa.s.sed over the branch and then slung back among the crowd, was instantly seized by a hundred hands. The condemned man seemed not to notice the movement, while, in answer to my question, the malignant expression upon his features became stronger and deeper.

"Away!" I cried, scarcely conscious of what I said or did, "Away with him!"

Those holding the rope sprang outward from the tree, and up rose Mr Leary.

A few faint kicks, and his body hung motionless from the limb of the live oak.

An empty sardine box was nailed to the tree, on which the murderer was hanging. Above it was pinned a piece of paper--on which were written the words, "For the orphan."

Many miners stepped up to the spot, opened their purses; and slipped a few dollars' worth of gold dust into the box.

Their example was followed by Stormy Jack; and from the quant.i.ty of yellow dust I saw him drop into the common receptacle, I could tell that his purse must have been three or four ounces lighter, when he came away from the tree!

Volume Two, Chapter IV.

THE ORPHAN.

Shortly after the termination of the melancholy drama, in which I had taken so prominent a part, Stormy Jack and I went to see the child--now left without either father or mother.

We found it in the keeping of a young married couple--who had lately arrived from Australia; and who had there been acquainted with its unfortunate mother.

They told us, that the murdered woman was the daughter of a respectable shopkeeper in Sydney, that she had run away with Mr Mathews--the name under which Leary had pa.s.sed in Australia--and that her parents had been very unwilling she should have anything to do with him.

She was an only daughter; and had left behind a father and mother sorely grieved at her misconduct. Everybody that knew her had thought her behaviour most singular. They could not comprehend her infatuation in forsaking a good home and kind parents for such a man as Mathews--who, to say nothing of his dissipated habits, was at least twenty years older than herself.

Perhaps it was strange, though I had learnt enough to think otherwise.

Experience had told me, that such occurrences are far from being uncommon, and that one might almost fancy, that scoundrels like Leary possess some peculiar charm for fascinating women--at least, those of the weaker kind.

The orphan was shown to us--a beautiful bright-eyed boy, about a year old; and bearing a marked resemblance to its mother.

"I shall take this child to its grandfather and grandmother in Sydney,"

said the young woman who had charge of it; "they will think all the world of it: for it is so like their lost daughter. May be it will do something to supply her place?"

From the manner in which the young couple were behaving towards the child, I saw that it would be safe in their keeping; and added my mite, to the fund already contributed for its support.

In hopes of learning whether my mother had ever reached Sydney, I asked them if they had been acquainted with Mathews there; or knew anything of his previous history. On this point they could give me no information.

They had had no personal acquaintance with Mathews in Australia; and all that they knew or had ever heard of him was unfavourable to his character. In Sydney, as elsewhere, he had been known as a dissolute, intemperate man.

Before we left the house, three men came in--bringing with them the gold that had been for the orphan.

It was weighed in the presence of the young man and his wife, and the amount was fifty ounces--in value near two hundred pounds of English money. My own contribution increased it to a still greater sum. The married couple had some scruples about taking charge of the gold, although they had none in regard to enc.u.mbering themselves with the child!

"I will go with you to an Express Office," said the man to the deputation who brought the money, "and we will send it to Mr D--, in San Francisco. He is a wholesale merchant there, and came from Sydney.

He is acquainted with the child's grandparents; and will forward the money to them. As for the child, I expect soon to return to Sydney myself--when I can take it along with me, and give it up to those who have the right to it."

This arrangement proving agreeable to all parties concerned, the gold was at once carried to the Express Office, and deposited there--with directions to forward it to Mr D--, the merchant.

Having pa.s.sed the remainder of the day in the company of Stormy Jack, I returned to my home on the Tuolumne, but little better informed about what I desired to know, than when I left it. I had seen Mr Leary for the last time; but I was as ignorant as ever of the fate of my relatives.

Leary was now gone out of the world, and could trouble my mother no more--wherever she might be. It was some satisfaction to be certain of that.

As I walked homeward my reflections were sufficiently unpleasant: I reproached myself with having too long neglected the duty on which I had started out--the search after my relations.