notes by flood and field-第4部分

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the　flooded　district　in　the　interior；　and　here；　profiting　by　the

lesson　he　has　taught　me；　I　make　the　resolve　to　turn　my　curiosity　to

the　account　of　others；　and　am　accepted　of　those　who　go　forth　to

succor　and　help　the　afflicted。　　Giuseppe　takes　charge　of　my

carpetbag；　and　does　not　part　from　me　until　I　stand　on　the　slippery

deck　of　〃Relief　Boat　No。　3。〃



An　hour　later　I　am　in　the　pilothouse；　looking　down　upon　what　was

once　the　channel　of　a　peaceful　river。　　But　its　banks　are　only

defined　by　tossing　tufts　of　willow　washed　by　the　long　swell　that

breaks　over　a　vast　inland　sea。　　Stretches　of　〃tule〃　land　fertilized

by　its　once　regular　channel　and　dotted　by　flourishing　ranchos　are

now　cleanly　erased。　　The　cultivated　profile　of　the　old　landscape

had　faded。　　Dotted　lines　in　symmetrical　perspective　mark　orchards

that　are　buried　and　chilled　in　the　turbid　flood。　　The　roofs　of　a

few　farmhouses　are　visible；　and　here　and　there　the　smoke　curling

from　chimneys　of　half…submerged　tenements　shows　an　undaunted　life

within。　　Cattle　and　sheep　are　gathered　on　Indian　mounds　waiting　the

fate　of　their　companions　whose　carcasses　drift　by　us；　or　swing　in

eddies　with　the　wrecks　of　barns　and　outhouses。　　Wagons　are　stranded

everywhere　where　the　tide　could　carry　them。　　As　I　wipe　the

moistened　glass；　I　see　nothing　but　water；　pattering　on　the　deck

from　the　lowering　clouds；　dashing　against　the　window；　dripping　from

the　willows；　hissing　by　the　wheels；　everywhere　washing；　coiling；

sapping；　hurrying　in　rapids；　or　swelling　at　last　into　deeper　and

vaster　lakes；　awful　in　their　suggestive　quiet　and　concealment。



As　day　fades　into　night　the　monotony　of　this　strange　prospect　grows

oppressive。　　I　seek　the　engine　room；　and　in　the　company　of　some　of

the　few　half…drowned　sufferers　we　have　already　picked　up　from

temporary　rafts；　I　forget　the　general　aspect　of　desolation　in　their

individual　misery。　　Later　we　meet　the　San　Francisco　packet；　and

transfer　a　number　of　our　passengers。　　From　them　we　learn　how

inward…bound　vessels　report　to　have　struck　the　well…defined　channel

of　the　Sacramento；　fifty　miles　beyond　the　bar。　　There　is　a

voluntary　contribution　taken　among　the　generous　travelers　for　the

use　of　our　afflicted；　and　we　part　company　with　a　hearty　〃Godspeed〃

on　either　side。　　But　our　signal　lights　are　not　far　distant　before　a

familiar　sound　comes　back　to　usan　indomitable　Yankee　cheerwhich

scatters　the　gloom。



Our　course　is　altered；　and　we　are　steaming　over　the　obliterated

banks　far　in　the　interior。　　Once　or　twice　black　objects　loom　up

near　usthe　wrecks　of　houses　floating　by。　　There　is　a　slight　rift

in　the　sky　toward　the　north；　and　a　few　bearing　stars　to　guide　us

over　the　waste。　　As　we　penetrate　into　shallower　water；　it　is　deemed

advisable　to　divide　our　party　into　smaller　boats；　and　diverge　over

the　submerged　prairie。　　I　borrow　a　peacoat　of　one　of　the　crew；　and

in　that　practical　disguise　am　doubtfully　permitted　to　pass　into　one

of　the　boats。　　We　give　way　northerly。　　It　is　quite　dark　yet；

although　the　rift　of　cloud　has　widened。



It　must　have　been　about　three　o'clock；　and　we　were　lying　upon　our

oars　in　an　eddy　formed　by　a　clump　of　cottonwood；　and　the　light　of

the　steamer　is　a　solitary；　bright　star　in　the　distance；　when　the

silence　is　broken　by　the　〃bow　oar〃：



〃Light　ahead。〃



All　eyes　are　turned　in　that　direction。　　In　a　few　seconds　a

twinkling　light　appears；　shines　steadily；　and　again　disappears　as

if　by　the　shifting　position　of　some　black　object　apparently

drifting　close　upon　us。



〃Stern；　all；　a　steamer！〃



〃Hold　hard　there！　　Steamer　be　damned！〃　is　the　reply　of　the

coxswain。　　〃It's　a　house；　and　a　big　one　too。〃



It　is　a　big　one；　looming　in　the　starlight　like　a　huge　fragment　of

the　darkness。　　The　light　comes　from　a　single　candle；　which　shines

through　a　window　as　the　great　shape　swings　by。　　Some　recollection

is　drifting　back　to　me　with　it　as　I　listen　with　beating　heart。



〃There's　someone　in　it；　by　heavens！　　Give　way；　boyslay　her

alongside。　　Handsomely；　now！　　The　door's　fastened；　try　the　window；

no！　here's　another！〃



In　another　moment　we　are　trampling　in　the　water　which　washes　the

floor　to　the　depth　of　several　inches。　　It　is　a　large　room；　at　the

farther　end　of　which　an　old　man　is　sitting　wrapped　in　a　blanket；

holding　a　candle　in　one　hand；　and　apparently　absorbed　in　the　book

he　holds　with　the　other。　　I　spring　toward　him　with　an　exclamation：



〃Joseph　Tryan！〃



He　does　not　move。　　We　gather　closer　to　him；　and　I　lay　my　hand

gently　on　his　shoulder；　and　say：



〃Look　up；　old　man；　look　up！　　Your　wife　and　children；　where　are

they？　　The　boysGeorge！　　Are　they　here？　are　they　safe？〃



He　raises　his　head　slowly；　and　turns　his　eyes　to　mine；　and　we

involuntarily　recoil　before　his　look。　　It　is　a　calm　and　quiet

glance；　free　from　fear；　anger；　or　pain；　but　it　somehow　sends　the

blood　curdling　through　our　veins。　　He　bowed　his　head　over　his　book

again；　taking　no　further　notice　of　us。　　The　men　look　at　me

compassionately；　and　hold　their　peace。　　I　make　one　more　effort：



〃Joseph　Tryan；　don't　you　know　me？　the　surveyor　who　surveyed　your

ranchthe　Espiritu　Santo？　　Look　up；　old　man！〃



He　shuddered　and　wrapped　himself　closer　in　his　blanket。　　Presently

he　repeated　to　himself　〃The　surveyor　who　surveyed　your　ranch

Espiritu　Santo〃　over　and　over　again；　as　though　it　were　a　lesson　he

was　trying　to　fix　in　his　memory。



I　was　turning　sadly　to　the　boatmen　when　he　suddenly　caught　me

fearfully　by　the　hand　and　said：



〃Hush！〃



We　were　silent。



〃Listen！〃　　He　puts　his　arm　around　my　neck　and　whispers　in　my　ear；

〃I'm　a　MOVING　OFF！〃



〃Moving　off？〃



〃Hush！　　Don't　speak　so　loud。　　Moving　off。　　Ah！　wot's　that？　　Don't

you　hear？there！　listen！〃



We　listen；　and　hear　the　water　gurgle　and　click　beneath　the　floor。



〃It's　them　wot　he　sent！Old　Altascar　sent。　　They've　been　here　all

night。　　I　heard　'em　first　in　the　creek；　when　they　came　to　tell　the

old　man　to　move　farther　off。　　They　came　nearer　and　nearer。　　They

whispered　under　the　door；　and　I　saw　their　eyes　on　the　steptheir

cruel；　hard　eyes。　　Ah；　why　don't　they　quit？〃



I　tell　the　men　to　search　the　room　and　see　if　they　can　find　any

further　traces　of　the　family；　while　Tryan　resumes　his　old　attitude。

It　is　so　much　like　the　figure　I　remember　on　the　breezy　night　that　a

superstitious　feeling　is　fast　overcoming　me。　　When　they　have

returned；　I　tell　them　briefly　what　I　know　of　him；　and　the　old　man

murmurs　again：



〃Why　don't　they　quit；　then？　　They　have　the　stockall　gonegone；

gone　for　the　hides　and　hoofs；〃　and　he　groans　bitterly。



〃There　are　other　boats　below　us。　　The　shanty　cannot　have　drifted

far；　and　perhaps　the　family　are　safe　by　this　time；〃　says　the

coxswain；　hopefully。



We　lift　the　old　man　up；　for　he　is　quite　helpless；　and　carry　him　to

the　boat。　　He　is　still　grasping　the　Bible　in　his　right　hand；　though

its　strengthening　grace　is　blank　to　his　vacant　eye；　and　he　cowers

in　the　stern　as　we　pull　slowly　to　the　steamer　while　a　pale　gleam　in

the　sky　shows　the　coming　day。



I　was　weary　with　excitement；　and　when　we　reached　the　steamer；　and　I

had　seen　Joseph　Tryan　comfortably　bestowed；　I　wrapped　myself　in　a

blanket　near　the　boiler　and　presently　fell　asleep。　　But　even　then

the　figure　of　the　old　man　often　started　before　me；　and　a　sense　of

uneasiness　about　George　made　a　strong　undercurrent　to　my　drifting

dreams。　　I　was　awakened　at　about　eight　o'clock　in　the　morning　by

the　engineer；　who　told　me　one　of　the　old　man's　sons　had　been　picked

up　and　was　now　on　board。



〃Is　it　George　Tryan？〃　I　ask　quickly。



〃Don't　know；　but　he's　a　sweet　one；　whoever　he　is；〃　adds　the

engineer；　with　a　smile　at　some　luscious　remembrance。　　〃You'll　find

him　for'ard。〃



I　hurry　to　the　bow　of　the　boat；　and　find；　not　George；　but　the

irrepressible　Wise；　sitting　on　a　coil　of　rope；　a　little　dirtier　and

rather　more　dilapidated　than　I　can　remember　having　seen　him。



He　is　examining；　with　apparent　admiration；　some　rough；　dry　clothes

that　have　been　put　out　for　his　disposal。　　I　cannot　help　thinking

that　circumstances　have　somewhat　exalted　his　usual　cheerfulness。

He　puts　me　at　my　ease　by　at　once　addressing　me：



〃These　are　high　old　times；　ain't　they？　　I　say；　what　do　you　reckon's

become　o'　them　thar　bound'ry　moniments　you　stuck？　　Ah！〃



The　pause　which　succeeds　this　outburst　is　the　effect　of　a　spasm　of

admiration　at　a　pair　of　high　boots；　which；　by　great　exertion；　he

has　at　last　pulled　on　his　feet。



〃So　you've　picked　up　the　ole　man　in　the　shanty；　clean　crazy？　　He

must　have　been　soft　to　have　stuck　there　instead　o'　leavin'　with　the

old　woman。　　Didn't　know　me　from　Adam；　took　me　for　George！〃



At　this　affecting　instance　of　paternal　forgetfulness；　Wise　was

evidently　divided　between　amusement　and　chagrin。　　I　took　advantage

of　the　contending　emotions　to　ask　about　George。



〃Don't　know　whar　he　is！　　If　he'd　tended　stock　instead　of　running

about　the　prairie；　packin'　off　wimmin　and　children；　he　might　have

saved　suthin。　　He　lost　every　hoof　and　hide；　I'll　bet　a　cooky！　　Say

you；〃　to　a　passing　boatman；　〃when　are　you　goin'　to　give　us　some

grub？　　I'm　hungry　'nough　to　skin　and　eat　a　hoss。　　Reckon　I'll　turn

butcher　when　things　is　dried　up；　and　save　hides；　horns；　and

taller。〃



I　could　not　but　admire　this　indomitable　energy；　which　under　softer

climatic　influences　might　have　borne　such　goodly　fruit。



〃Have　you　any　idea　what　you'll　do；　Wise？〃　I　ask。



〃Thar　ain't　much　to　do　now；〃　says　the　practical　young　man。　　〃I'll

have　to　lay　over　a　spell；　I　reckon；　till　things　comes　straight。

The　land　ain't　worth　much　now；　and　won't　be；　I　dessay；　for　some

time。　　Wonder　whar　the　ole　man'll　drive　stakes　next。〃



〃I　meant　as　to　your　father　and　George；　Wise。〃



〃Oh；　the　old　man　and　I'll　go　on　to　'Miles's；'　whar　Tom　packed　the

old　woman　and　babies　last　week。　　George'll　turn　up　somewhar　atween

this　and　Altascar's　ef　h