Bannerford; or, The valley of gold. A tale of our own times

Preface

. The chief object which the Author strove to attain, in writing the following pages, was to present to the reader an account of the wonderful discoveries which have been made in the <rold regions on the west coast of North America : discoveries which have absorbed the attention of the age, and. which, in combination with others still more recent, portend changes as startling as they were unexpected. While describing the country in which the events narrated take place, and depicting the man ners and customs of its inhabitants, the Author has endeavoured to attach to his account an

PREFACE.

. extraneous interest beyond detail of adventures, operations, and places. He has ventured to take some liberties with the topography of the Ruined Cities of Central America, and with the chronology of some events connected with the Mexican War of Indepen dence ; these, he trusts, will not be deemed unwarrantable. London, February, 1853. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

Part I. Page Chap

I. — The Races — Catastrophe — Rival Brothers . . 1 CHAP. II. — Lonsmore Hall and its Inmates 16 CHAP. III. — Walter Bannerford and Edith Lonsmore — The Widow and her Remorse 33 CHAP. IV.— Aunt Margaret— The Family Lawyer— The Ball at Lonsmore — A fatal Misunderstanding . . 46 CHAP. V.-The Brothers' Rencontre 75 CHAP. VI. — Lawyer Placet and his Confidential — Nocturnal Misdeeds — The Exile 87

Part II. Chap

I.— A New World— The Gold-seekers and their Golden Dreams — Landing of the Adventurers . . . 105 CHAP. IL— The Yankee Storekeeper— Gold-dust— Keen Dealing — Mexican Caballeros — A Yankee Hotel . . 137 CHAP. III.— Moonlight Scene— The Twin Brothers— The Fire— The Store-keeper's Daughter — The Rescue . . 154 CHAP. IV.— The Start for the Gold Mines, and the Outfit — Faithful Followers — Dickon and Kanacka — The black Chargers— The Indian Chief CONTENTS. PAGE CHAP. V. — Halt in the Prairie — Rendezvous of Horse- Thieves— A Mexican Caballada — The Attack — Help in time of need — The Renegade's Escape — Night Encampment 182 CHAP. VI.— The Trail of the Renegade and his Horse- Thieves— Masses for the Slain — The Pursuit — Harold, Edgar, and Don Antonio de Castro — Noontide Siesta 212 CHAP. VII.— The lassoed Panther— Don Manuel de Baregui — Death of a Favourite — Fresh Traces of the Renegade and his Troop — Descent of the River — Capture of the Renegade and his Plunder — Lynch Law . . . 240 CHAP. VIII. — Prisoner's Escape — An American Valley — Renewed Hopes of the Gold-seekers — Wild Horses — The Stampede 273 CHAP. IX.— Ford of the River— Night Bivouac of an old Acquaintance — A Bear-fight— The gallant Hound — A Revolver's Power — Anak Bluff 291 CHAP. X. — The Brothers and Don Antonio part Company — An American Station — The Renegade again — A threatened Attack — The Gold Diggings .... 311 CHAP. XI. — Pauline, the Store-keeper's Daughter, and her Indian Lover — A Warrior's Struggle with the Power of Love BANNERFORD ; oft, THE VALLEY OF GOLD.

PART I. CHAPTER

I. THE RACES — CATASTROPHE — RIVAL BROTHERS. The town of W was full to overflowing; the races, with their usual festivities, had peopled its quiet drowsy streets with noisy throngs of pleasure-seeking loungers. The fine sunshiny weather, too, enticed people abroad, and almost from earliest dawn streams of country folk and town folk, on foot, on horseback, or borne in vehicles of every hue and shape, might have been seen converging from every point of the compass towards the great centre of attraction, the W race-course. It was situated in an open . and level plain, which lay just outside the town. A week pre viously, its smooth luxuriant turf looked as soft VOL. I. B BANNERFORD; OR, and green as the velvet mantle of that fair young p-irl leaning back in the aristocratic barouche which those four spanking greys bear undulating along the dusty high-road, rolling over the billows of white dust, like some noble ship floating over the heaving waves.

But a few short hours had changed the scene from rural quietude to the noise and bustle of a town's fair ; the trampling of tens of thousands of human feet, the crushing of wheels, the iron shod hoofs of galloping horses, soon marred the beauty of that verdant plain. The close of the first day's races — for there were three of them — saw nothing but a dry, brown, dusty surface, dotted over with gay flaunting booths, seesaws, and roundabouts, and peopled with an ever moving crowd of men, horses, and carriages, mingled up in seemingly inextricable confusion. But somehow or other, the crowd did manage to unravel and sort itself, each going on his own way back into separate individualities. The declining rays of the bright autumn sun were fended off from many a fair face by the shielding parasols of every rainbow hue, which baffled the efforts of the jolly sun-god to dart under their fringes, and obtain a parting kiss from the laughing lips they protected.

Only a tulip parterre could rival the pinks, and blues, and greens, and yellows, that marked the abundant presence of the gentler sex upon the plain at W , reversing the poet's dictum, by lending enchantment to the view, rather as the distance lessened than as it increased. So that dark-eyed handsome young gentleman with the black whiskers and pale face thinks, as he peeps under the bonnet of his fair companion, the young girl in the green velvet mantle before alluded to, and who is now sitting by his side. Little thought has the stout florid-faced gentle man, sitting high on the driving-box, for ought else but the performance of his four gallant greys, while he guides them skilfully through the press — all but running over yon spangled harlequin, lost in his vehement occupation of belabouring his prostrate mercy-imploring foe, whose loud yells give the lie to his painted grin.

Once on the clear and open road, the four greys tear furiously along, raising more billowy clouds of dust, rocking and swinging the dark blue carriage just as they did when they dashed on to the race-course in the morning. The horses seemed as glad to get free from the hot steaming crowd as the fat florid-faced gentle man on the box, and the gold-laced cockaded groom, as he sat beside his master with folded arms, grinned with pleasure in answer to some thing he had just told him, with a nudge of the elbow. The gentleman had betted and won, and b2 BANNERFORD ; OR, the gentleman's gentleman had not, if one might judge from appearances, lost; and so, with a merry crack of the long whip, and a plunge of the fiery leaders, on they dashed. And the dark-eyed young gentleman, too, looked pleased ; for, leaning back in the carriage, his bending head came very close to the listening ear of his fair companion.

But the noise of the wheels, and the clang of the church bells, as they passed under the shade of the spreading chestnuts that overhung the churchyard wall, made him, perhaps, press closer to whisper what he had to tell, and what, perhaps, was not very disagreeable to hear, although the white-lace bonnet was turned away so sharply from him, and the round white neck mantled with a delicate blush. It might have been that she was anxious about the fate of the poor man whose hand-cart had been nearly trampled down by the furious greys, and all but crushed beneath the wheels of their carriage. The florid-faced gentleman wras too busy in jerking in his team, and jerking out a curse or two upon the obstructing equipage and its owner, to notice what took place behind him ; so the young gentleman, without interference or notice, supported the graceful form, enveloped in its green velvet mantle, trimmed with white ermine, as the fair wearer leaned over the side of the carriage : and when she resumed her seat, he carefully drew together the ermine edges, to protect the young girl from the cold, without any one noticing, and wondering what there was to fear from the warm air of that delicious autumn evening.

There was one, though, whose anger, and, perhaps, jealousy, would have been raised, and that soon and hotly, had he been there ; but, luckily, he was some distance behind. He did his best to catch them, as the unfortunate man who had barely escaped being trampled down by the greys, soon found out to his sorrow. The man in question was pushing before him a battered old hand-cart, which served as a low gaming-table ; it carried a painted board, on which were daubed various figures, as anchors, hearts, pots, clubs, spades, &c. The man's line of business was peculiar, and consisted in doing his utmost, by cheating and juggling, bullying and lying, to inveigle the young and inexperienced into risking, and of course losing, their all, upon the chances of his game. Once let Black Steenie (his proper name, he said, was Stephen Black) get his hands into their pockets, and, like a vampire, he sucked away by hook or crook, by flattery or bullying, until he got all that was to be had from them.

Black Steenie was just then congratulating himself upon having escaped being run over by the barouche, and was revolving in his mind how he should manage to reappear on the course the next day; for he had been expelled from the grounds for foul play. He pushed his old cart on one side to allow a substantial farmer's vehicle to jog past him, when he heard the sound of trampling feet behind. The road was narrow ; on his right lay the churchyard wall ; on his left jogged along the farmer's cart, for, lost in his reflections, he had pushed to the wrong side of the road. One glance over his shoulder told him that the driver of the tandem that came rattling up behind him, did not mean to pull in his horses, which had attained a full swinging trot. He himself made no attempt, as the driver of the tandem probably expected he would, to draw aside his hand-cart ; but, abandoning it to its fate, he pressed close to the churchyard wall, and shrunk behind a kind of straight buttress of brick-work, which had been built to strengthen the wall of unhewn stone.

In a moment, the leading horse made a plunge, which carried him right over the cart, and he fell heavily on the other side ; the wheeler swerved, and one wheel of the dog-cart caught the buttress behind which Black Steenie was crouching. The driver was pitched forward by the shock, over the low wall of the churchyard, where he fell into a ditch, half-full of sedgy mud and decayed leaves. His servant, who was sitting by his side, was thrown forward upon the horse, and, clinging to the reins and his neck, managed, at the expense of a few severe bruises and torn clothes, to arrest the career of the frightened animal, which other wise would have sprung over the cart and the fallen leader, and completed the catastrophe by dashing everything, himself included, to pieces. The efforts of the groom were soon seconded by his master, who had escaped without other injury than the concussion of the fall, and a soiled paletot ; he jumped back over the wall, and seized the wheeler's head on the other side.

With a powerful hand he backed the animal a few yards, and in a rough, hoarse voice, cried, — " Hold on to his head, Laurence. Are you hurt, man? Only bruised? Oh! that is nothing. I will just give a look at the leader, — curse the brute ! how he bleeds and quivers ! — and then I will settle with our friend behind the wall there." The stout, burly farmer, pulled up as soon as he heard the crash of the accident behind him, and now stood holding the leader, from whose cut flank and broken knees the blood streamed fast; while every now and then the terrified creature gave a snort, and shook its trembling sides, as it threw a wild look of terror around, to see from what quarter the danger would next appear. " A very sad business this, Sir Martin," said the farmer. That gentleman made no reply, but gave a look round the noble animal, felt it here and there, and then turned on his heel, muttering as he went, — " Good for dogs' meat, that is all now."

" Humph ! Sir Martin Bannerford might ha' given one a good-day or a thankee, I should ha' thought," said the farmer to himself; "he scowled at one as if one had done the job ; but he is going to speak to that there black-looking chap, and I'se warrant he'll raddle his bones for him. Ecod, he's nabbed him, as he made a bolt over the wall." As the farmer said, the owner of the hand-cart that had caused so much mischief no sooner saw the baronet (for such was his rank) coming towards him, than he seemed to recover his presence of mind, and turned round to make his escape over the wall, on to the other side of which Sir Martin had been so unceremoniously pitched. Before, however, he had scaled its top, the powerful hand of the baronet was upon his collar, and he was pulled backwards. His captor held him at arm's length, and the two men stood a moment eyeing one another.

There was a great contrast between them. The baronet was a man of about eight and-twenty years of age, of the middle height, with vast broad shoulders, deep chest, and strong muscular limbs, his legs rather curved, as if from habitual exercise on horseback. His face was fat and fresh-coloured, and had a look of dissipation about it, that told of early excesses; it was garnished with bushy whiskers of a light sandy colour, as were also the scanty eyebrows, which were scarcely visible, so that there was no break between a low retreating forehead and a pair of prominent blue eyes, whose expression, except when blazing with passion, was dull and meaning less. His nose was the only good feature of his face ; it was finely shaped, and gave an aristocratic, and at times even a handsome appearance, to his face ; his mouth was large, sensual, and indicative of bad temper, and its expression was not improved by the shape of his square, massive, obstinate looking chin.

Black Steenie was a tall, thin, dark-skinned man, some ten or twelve years older than the baronet ; he looked more, with his stooping shoulders, small, dark, deep-set eyes, and thin hatchet face ; his beard and whiskers clipped, not shorn, so as to leave a dirty, bristly stubble ; he had a cringing, cowardly gait, and a mean sullen countenance, that set one against him at first sight. He struggled a moment in the powerful grasp of the baronet, but he soon saw that his efforts to free himself were vain. "And who, in the fiend's name, are you ? " asked Sir Martin, " and why did you not keep out of my road ? " added he, with a violent oath and no less violent shake. The man put on a dogged look, and replied, making at the same time another effort to shake loose the baronet's hold, — B3 " I know you, Sir Martin, and we have met before now, when I was as good as you, for all your fine feathers now " Sir Martin looked at him earnestly a moment.

" Aye," continued the man, with a glance of malignant hatred, " Mr. Martin, as you were pleased to be called, has met me before, as he may remember, if he has not quite forgotten Nick's Court." Sir Martin turned somewhat pale, it might have been with passion, for he gave the man a violent shake that made his teeth chatter again, while he shouted, "The whip, Laurence! give me the whip ; I'll teach the clog to break my horse's knees, and then pour out his foul impudence on me." The groom, still holding the horse's head, was examining the dog-cart, which, however, was very little injured, and the horse not at all. At the sound of his master's voice, and perhaps quickened by the volley of oaths which he poured out, the groom handed him the stock of a heavy tandem whip ; the lash bad been broken short off, but the stock was of stout holly, leaded, and silver mounted.

There was a short struggle, the baronet applied the heavy holly stock furiously, and broke it over his adversary's head, then with his full force he caught him by the throat, and dashed him against the wall, where he lay motionless, and perhaps senseless. " He's got enough, I'se warrant," said the farmer, who had been looking on quietly and curiously ; " here, groom, take your horse, I must be jog ging on." The groom took the broken-kneed leader, while the farmer mounted his cart unconcernedly, and touching his hat, trotted on his way. Sir Martin meanwhile settled his neckcloth, took off his soiled paletot, and brushed round his hat. " Unhook those broken traces, Laurence," he said in a tone of voice very different from that in which he had last spoken, " and dust the cart a bit. Here, take this paletot, I will drive on ; I must overtake the barouche now before it gets to the lodge.

You follow after with Lightning, his broken knees must be looked to at once when you get in. Thunder will take me along fast enough I will warrant him." So saying, the baronet stepped into his dog-cart, and drove off at a furious pace, while the groom picked up the broken pieces of the whip, wiped poor Lightning's knees with his red cotton handkerchief, and applied some of the nap torn from his hat to staunch the bleeding. He then at a leisurely pace followed his master. Had he looked behind he might have seen Black Steenie raise himself slowly, wipe the blood from a deep cut on his cheek, and clench his hand menacingly at the baronet, as the dog-cart disappeared over a distant hill. " Twice," he muttered between his clenched teeth, " but now I will be revenged, both for me and for her ! " Sir Martin Bannerford drove on, and muttered to himself, " The villain knew me it was evident.

Pooh ! what if he did ? all that is past now." — Then, as if to leave all thought and reflection behind him, he gave his horse rein, and flew over the ground at a speed which brought them in sight of the barouche and four greys, just as it was turning in at the lodge of Lonsmore Park. A broad carriage-drive of half a mile in length, shaded by fine old trees, led up to the Hall ; but before the carriage had gone two hundred yards from the lodge gate, Sir Martin was at its side. General Lonsmore, the florid-faced gentleman on the box, turned on his seat as he heard him coming. " Ah, Sir Martin, we are first, you see, in spite of Thunder and Lightning too ; but hallo ! where have you left Lightning behind?" As the General spoke, the two young people in the carriage, instinctively as it were, drew further apart, the pale handsome face of the gentleman coloured, while a light green parasol was held steadily before the white-lace bonnet, with -an air that seemed to say, " You shall not see me, at least until I have recovered from my blushes."

" Lightning has stumbled over some cursed vagabond's cart, and ruined himself," said Sir Martin, reining in. "D the costermonger, or whatever he is. He almost got under my greys too. Don't you think we might pull him up, Bannerford ? he may have been poaching, or going to poach, or some thing, and once in limbo, we can keep him there until the races, at least, are over." Sir Martin made no reply, for the dog-cart was now abreast of the barouche, and at the sight of the young man sitting by the side of the green mantle and parasol, which was all of feminine that his eyes could get a glimpse of, his face grew scarlet, and his words seemed almost to choke as he with difficulty got out, " You there, Walter ?" Walter Bannerford, for it was the younger brother of the Baronet, was as much discomposed as his elder brother, and could only stammer out, " General Lonsmore was good enough to take me up, Martin, and — " " And Miss Lonsmore too," interrupted the Baronet, with a sneer, "joined in the invitation, I suppose."

At the sound of that name, the parasol was lowered for one instant, and a very, very pretty face was exhibited, a low bow was made, and the shield again interposed as obstinately as before. " Eh ! eh ! " cried the old General. " Just drive on a bit, Bannerford. I can't hold in these four devils if I have to turn round to you, and I could not hear what you said about poaching." Both young men again coloured at the last word, and without saying another syllable to his brother, Sir Martin drove on, crying out, " I will tell you all about my misadventure at dinner, General Lonsmore." " Ah, Walter ! so your brother has been before hand with us, you see ; I did not mean to tell him that you were here until you met at dinner, since, as you told me, you have not yet been up to Bannerford House. You are just in time, too, for saucy Edith there persuaded her old aunt to prevail on me to give a ball during our races."

Down went the parasol, and the white-lace bonnet was turned boldly up at the old gentle man. She was not afraid of him. " Fie, papa ! how can you say I persuaded aunty?" " Well, you were glad of the fun, Edith, were you not ? But hold your tongue now, or I shall upset you round this turn; I am sorry, Mr. Bannerford, to leave you to Edith's silly talk, but these greys pull my old arms off. I'll make out at dinner — I'll make out at dinner." Little knew the General how much better pleased his guest was to be left to entertain himself, and how swiftly those delicious moments passed by, when the parasol was raised so as to screen both white bonnet and black hat, so close were they together. How was it then, that after all, Walter Bannerford's face was so constrained, and even sad, as he handed Miss Lonsmore from the carriage, when with a dash the four greys pulled up short at the portico of Lonsmore ?

Why did the green velvet mantle trip up the steps without the white bonnet turning for a moment to give him one look? Had Walter offended her? They were old friends, and she might have given him one sunny smile to feed upon — but she did not, for she accepted Sir Martin's arm, who happened to be just then taking off his hat and gloves at the hall table. He led her along the corridor, and resigned her to her aunt, who came to meet them.

Chapter II. Lonsmore Hall And Its Inmates

General Lonsmore had assembled his guests in the great dining-hall at Lonsmore. Aunt Margaret, or Mistress Margaret Lonsmore, the General's sister, had withdrawn from the table, over which she had presided, and with her lady guests was discussing the preparations for the ball in the evening, while her brother entertained the gentlemen who remained at table. The hall was of vast size, lighted by two huge oriel windows, whose carved stone shafts were filled with diamond-shaped panes, reaching from the sculptured and vaulted roof down to the benches that lined the recess. Armorial blazonry dotted the windows, and threw brilliant shadows down the hall, lighting up the carving of the dark old oak that wainscotted the walls. Heavy buffets and sideboards, black, like the fretted beams in the ceiling, with the age of centuries, lined the walls, and supported a glittering show.

Weighty and antique-shaped pieces of plate, covered with quaint inscriptions, were thereon displayed, mingled with more modern and more elegant patterns, supplied, it was shrewdly guessed, by melting up the yellow ingots which the Gene ral's father had brought back with him from the banks of the Ganges, and which had renovated most opportunely the fortunes of the Lonsmore family. The oaken panels of the wainscot sustained each a portrait, a real Lonsmore portrait, and not even the most cynical of parvenus would have ventured on a sneer at their faded antiquity, or musty worm-eaten frames, when the fine old soldier would push back the snow-white hairs from his well-shaped forehead, then place his left hand in the breast of his white waistcoat, carefully smoothing his plaited frill of unblemished purity, while with his right he pointed out the long series of portraits of his ancient line.

There they hung, the warriors in their plated armour, and steel helmet, with the cross handle of a huge two-handed sword peeping over their shoulders; the series continued by the befrilled and bepuffed courtiers, — by easy gallant looking cavaliers with long locks, broad hats, and flowery plumes, — by stiff broad-skirted soldiers, with short bob wigs of undeniable respectability, and three-cornered hats stuck under their arms, — a striking resemblance of feature being traceable throughout the line, down to the well-known scarlet and gold of our own time. Eor tbe portrait of the old General himself closed the series, and he had fought at Talavera, Salamanca, and Waterloo. General Lonsmore was proud, there is no de nying it ; but no one could have been offended at the way in which he manifested it; indeed, to hear him speak of his forefathers and their doings was enough to make the listener share in the feelings of the old gentleman — as if he too, through his friend and host, had part and lot in them.

At such times, the spirit and bearing of the soldier resumed its sway over his feelings, for he had not played the peaceful country gentleman so long as quite to forget the old days and old associations. " Every Lonsmore has been a soldier, from one eyed Sir Roger that fought at Hastings, down wards," said the old General as he sat at the head of his table, after dinner, on the evening of the races at W . " And every one, Bannerford," he con tinued, addressing the Baronet, who sat at his right hand, " every man has served his king. Some on the wrong side, you know, in '45, but bygones must be bygones, and nowadays I would not have back the baronetcy if they would give it me. Not that I mean disrespect, Sir Martin — God wot the Bannerfords have nought to do with the new lot. Many a one of those old fellows, hanging up on the walls there, has in time reckoned a Bannerford — now his staunchest friend, now his deadliest foe, especially when the colour of a rose was called in question."

" Ah, General ! " answered Sir Martin with a loud laugh, " you beat us all in history and pedi grees; I never dine with you without learning something of the old times : but I am a soldier too, you know, and so am glad to repair my igno rance." There was in the bearing of the Baronet an evident desire to please the old gentleman. He had led him on to his favourite subjects, listened with interest to his old stories, but ever his large eyes were turned with some anxiety towards the lower end of the table, where his brother Walter sat, though now and then an ex pression of triumph came over him, especially when his host replied, — " Gad, I wish we had an amazon regiment like his majesty of Tongataboo, or Dahomey, or some such place. I'll be hanged if Edith should not put on the epaulets. At all events the girl must have a soldier for a husband, come what will."

Poor Walter saw his brother's look, and heard the concluding sentence of the General's reply, for he paid but little attention to the whispered con versation of a tall portly gentleman who sat by his side. He was dressed in all the aping finery of a would-be fop, and his elaborately worked shirt front and glittering studs, his laced neckcloth, his heavy gold watch-chain and bunches of charms, his divers jewelled rings and perfumed kerchief, ill assorted with his personal appearance. He had a would-be mild sanctimonious-looking countenance, a high pale forehead, from which the lank hair of iron grey was parted with straight precision. His quick piercing grey eyes that would not be kept under the mask's stiff control, caught the look of the elder brother as he glanced down the table, and, to the Baronet's evident discomposure, he redoubled his efforts to engage Walter Bannerford in a conversation, whose low tones failed to reach the listening ears of the elder brother.

Walter's replies showed that he scarcely heard what was said to him ; his pale handsome face leaned on his hand — for one moment he raised his dark sad-looking eyes at the words of the General, but he instantly depressed them, and again seemed lost in contemplating the structure of a date-stone on the plate before him. Walter was no soldier. His uncle, under whose care he himself and brother, left orphans in childhood, had been brought up, had contracted a violent antipathy to the military profession. " No," he said, " never, Walter, shall you enter the cursed service ! Your father threw away his life in the prime of his days, and broke your poor mother's heart with grief— its temptations completed the ruin and disgrace of your elder brother, and caused me to disown my own flesh and blood."