Ben"s face brightened.
"I am glad to hear you say that, Cousin Ida," he said. "You are spending so much money for me that I shall be glad to feel that I have earned some of it."
"Have no trouble on that score, Ben. I foresee that you will continue to be of great service to me. I regard the money expended for you as well invested."
Ben heard this with satisfaction. It naturally gave him a feeling of heightened importance when he reflected that a wealthy heiress had selected him as her escort and right-hand man, and that she was satisfied with her choice.
On Sat.u.r.day morning Miss Sinclair and Ben went on board the California steamer, and when the tide served, they started on their long voyage.
CHAPTER XII.
IN SAN FRANCISCO.
Ben was not seasick, and enjoyed the novel experiences vastly. Miss Sinclair was less fortunate. For four days she was sick and confined to her stateroom. After that she was able to appear among the other pa.s.sengers. Ben was very attentive, and confirmed the favorable opinion she had already formed of him.
At last the voyage came to a close. It was a bright, cheery morning when the steamer came within sight of San Francisco. It was not a populous and brilliant city as at present, for Ben"s expedition dates back to the year 1856, only a few years after the discovery of gold. Still, there was a good-sized town on the site of the future city. The numerous pa.s.sengers regarded it with rejoicing hearts, and exchanged hopeful congratulations. Probably with the exception of Miss Sinclair, all had gone out to make or increase their fortunes.
Her fortune was already made. She had gone to enjoy personal liberty, and to find her plighted husband.
"Well, Ben, we have nearly reached our destination," said Miss Sinclair, as she looked earnestly in the direction of the embryo city. "You are glad, are you not?"
"Yes, Cousin Ida," said Ben slowly.
"But you look thoughtful. Is there anything on your mind?"
"I feel sorry that I am to part from you, Cousin Ida."
"Thank you, Ben, but we are not to part permanently. You don"t mean to forsake me utterly?"
"Not if you need me," said our hero.
"I shall still require your services. You remember that I came out here in search of a--friend?" said Miss Sinclair, hesitating.
"Yes, I know, Cousin Ida."
"I am desirous that he should know that I am in San Francisco, but, unfortunately, though I know he is in California, I have no idea where, or in what part of it he is to be found. Once in communication with him, I need have no further apprehension of interference or persecution on the part of my guardian."
"To be sure," said Ben straightforwardly. "I suppose you would marry him?"
"That may come some time," said Miss Sinclair, smiling, "but he must be found first."
"You will travel about, I suppose?" said Ben.
"No; I shall engage some one to travel for me. It would not be suitable for a young lady to go from one mining-camp to another."
"Have you thought of any one you can send?" asked our hero.
"Yes," said Miss Sinclair. "He is rather young, but I shall try the experiment."
"Do you mean me?" asked Ben quickly.
"Yes; are you willing to be my agent in the matter?"
"I should like it of all things," said Ben, with sparkling eyes.
"Then you may consider yourself engaged. The details we will discuss presently."
"And where will you stay, Cousin Ida?"
"In San Francisco. I have become acquainted with a lady on board who proposes to open a boarding-house in the city, or, rather, to take charge of one already kept by her sister. In my circ.u.mstances, it will be better for me to board with her than at a hotel. There I shall have a secure and comfortable home, while you are exploring the mining-districts in my interest."
"That is an excellent plan," said Ben.
"So I think."
Here the conversation was interrupted by the bustle of approaching departure. Ben landed in the company of Miss Sinclair and Mrs.
Armstrong, and the three proceeded at once to the boarding-house, over which the latter was in future to preside. A comfortable room was a.s.signed to Miss Sinclair, and a small one to Ben. They were plainly furnished, but both enjoyed being on land once more.
Our young hero, finding that his services were not required for the present, began to explore the city. It was composed almost wholly of wooden houses; some but one story in height, even on the leading streets, with here and there sand-hills, where now stand stately piles and magnificent hotels. He ascended Telegraph Hill, which then, as now, commanded a good view of the town and harbor; yet how different a view from that presented now. Ben was partly pleased and partly disappointed. Just from New York, he could not help comparing this straggling village on the sh.o.r.es of the Pacific with the even then great city on the Atlantic coast. He had heard so much of San Francisco that he expected something more. To-day a man may journey across the continent and find the same comfort, luxury, and magnificence in San Francisco which he left behind him in New York.
In his explorations Ben came to a showy building which seemed a center of attraction. It seemed well filled, and people were constantly coming in and going out. Ben"s curiosity was excited.
"What is that?" he asked of a man who lounged outside, with a Mexican sombrero on his head and his hands thrust deep in his pockets.
"That"s the Bella Union, my chicken."
"I don"t know any better now."
"Just go in there with a pocketful of gold-dust, like I did, and you"ll find out, I reckon."
"Is it a gambling-house?" inquired Ben, rather excited, for he had heard much of such places, but never seen one.
"It"s the devil"s den," said the man bitterly. "I wish I"d never seen it."
"Have you been unlucky?"
"Look here, boy, jest look at me," said the stranger. "An hour ago I was worth a thousand dollars in gold-dust-took six months" hard work to sc.r.a.pe it together at the mines-now I haven"t an ounce left."
"Did you lose it there?" asked Ben, somewhat startled.
"Well, I staked it, and it"s gone."
"Have you nothing left?"
"Not an ounce. I haven"t enough to pay for a bed."