CHAPTER 41
Capt. Nye Ⓐemendation was very ill indeed, with spasmodic rheumatismⒺexplanatory note. But the old gentleman was himself—which is to say, he was kind-hearted and agreeable when comfortable, but a singularly violent wild-cat when things did not go well. He would be smiling along pleasantly enough, when a sudden spasm of his disease would take him and he would go out of his smile into a perfect fury. He would groan and wail and howl with the anguish, and fill up the odd chinks with the most elaborate profanity that strong convictions and a fine fancy could contrive. With fair opportunity he could swear very well and handle his adjectives with considerable judgment; but when the spasm was on him it was painful to listen to him, he was so awkward. However, I had seen him nurse a sick man himself and put up patiently with the inconveniencesⒺexplanatory note of the situation, and consequently I was willing that he should have full license now that his own turn had come. He could not disturb me, with all his raving and ranting, for my mind had work on hand, and it labored on diligently, night and day, whether my hands were idle or employed. I was altering and amending the plans for my house, and thinking over the propriety of having the billiard-room in the attic, instead of on the same floor with the dining-room; also, I was trying to decide between green and blue for the upholstery of the drawing-room, for, although my preference was blue I feared it was a color that would be too easily damaged by dust and sunlight; likewise while I was content to put the coachmanⒶemendation in a modest livery, I was uncertain about a footman—I needed one, and was even resolved to have one, but wished he could properly appear and perform his functions out of livery, for I somewhat dreaded so much show; and yet, inasmuch as my late grandfather had had a coachman and such thingsⒺexplanatory note, but no liveries, I felt rather drawn to beat him;—or beat his ghost, at any rate; I was also systematizing the [begin page 265] European trip, and managed to get it all laid out, as to route and length of time to be devoted to it—everything, with one exception—namely, whether to cross the desert from Cairo to Jerusalem per camel, or go by sea to Beirut, and thence down through the country per caravan. Meantime I was writing to the friends at home every day, instructing them concerning all my plans and intentions, and directing them to look up a handsome homestead for my mother and agree upon a price for it against my coming, and also directing them to sell my share of the Tennessee landⒺexplanatory note and tender the proceeds to the widows’ and orphans’ fund of the typographical union of which I had long been a member in good standingⒺexplanatory note. [This Tennessee land had been in the possession of the family many years, and promised to confer high fortune upon us some day; it still promises it, but in a less violent way.]
When I had been nursing the Captain nine days he was somewhat better, but very feeble. During the afternoon we lifted him into a chair and gave him an alcoholic vapor bath, and then set about putting him on the bed again. We had to be exceedingly careful, for the least jar produced pain. Gardiner had his shoulders and I his legs; in an unfortunate moment I stumbled and the patient fell heavily on the bed in an agony of torture. I never heard a man swear so in my life. He raved like a maniac, and tried to snatch a revolver from the table—but I got it. He ordered me out of the house, and swore a world of oaths that he would kill meⒺexplanatory note wherever he caught me when he got on his feet again. It was simply a passing fury, and meant nothing. I knew he would forget it in an hour, and maybe be sorry for it, too; but it angered me a little, at the moment. So much so, indeed, that I determined to go back to Esmeralda. I thought he was able to get along alone, now, since he was on the war path. I took supper, and as soon as the moon rose, began my nine-mile journey, on foot. Even millionaires needed no horses, in those days, for a mere nine-mile jaunt without baggage.
As I “raised the hill” overlooking the town, it lacked fifteen minutes of twelve. I glanced at the hill over beyond the cañonⒶemendation, and in the bright moonlight saw what appeared to be about half the population of the village massed on and around the Wide West croppings. My heart gave an exulting bound, and I said to myself, “They have made a new strike to-night—and struck it richer than [begin page 266] ever, no doubt.” I started over there, but gave it up. I said the “strike” would keep, and I had climbed hills enough for one night. I went on down through the town, and as I was passing a little German bakery, a woman ran out and begged me to come in and help her. She said her husband had a fit. I went in, and judged she was right—he appeared to have a hundred of them, compressed into one. Two Germans were there, trying to hold him, and not making much of a success of it. I ran up the street half a block or so and routed out a sleeping doctor, brought him down half dressed, and we four wrestled with the maniac, and doctored, drenched and bled him, for more than an hour, and the poor German woman did the crying. He grew quiet, now, and the doctor and I withdrew and left him to his friends.
It was a little after one o’clock. As I entered the cabin door, tired but jolly, the dingy light of a tallow candle revealed Higbie, sitting by the pine table gazing stupidly at my note, which he held in his fingers, and looking pale, old, and haggard. I halted, and looked at him. He looked at me, stolidly. I said:
“Higbie, what—what is it?”
“We’re ruined—we didn’t do the work—the blind lead’s relocated!”
It was enough. I sat down sick, grieved—broken-hearted, indeed. A minute before, I was rich and brim fullⒶemendation of vanity; I was a pauper now, and very meek. We sat still an hour, busy with thought, busy with vain and useless self-upbraidings, busy with “Why didn’t I do this, and why didn’t I do that,” but neither spoke a word. Then we dropped into mutual explanations, and the mystery was cleared away. It came out that Higbie had depended on me, as I had on himⒺexplanatory note, and as both of us had on the foreman. The folly of it! It was the first time that ever staid and steadfast Higbie had left an important matter to chance or failed to be true to his full share of a responsibility.
But he had never seen my note till this moment, and this moment was the first time he had been in the cabin since the day he had seen me last. He, also, had left a note for me, on that same fatal afternoon—had ridden up on horsebackⒶemendation, and looked through the window, and being in a hurry and not seeing me, had tossed the [begin page 267] note into the cabin through a broken pane. Here it was, on the floor, where it had remained undisturbed for nine days:
Don’t fail to do the work before the ten days expire. W. has passed through and given me notice. I am to join him at Mono Lake, and we shall go on from there to-night. He says he will find it this time, sure. Cal.Ⓐemendation
“W.” meant Whiteman, of course. That thrice accursed “cement!”
That was the way of it. An old miner, like Higbie, could no more withstand the fascination of a mysterious mining excitement like this “cement” foolishness, than he could refrain from eating when he was famishing. Higbie had been dreaming about the marvelous cement for months; and now, against his better judgment, he had gone off and “taken the chances” on my keeping secure a mine worth a million undiscovered cement veins. They had not been [begin page 268] followed this time. His riding out of town in broad daylight was such a commonplace thing to do that it had not attracted any attention. He said they prosecuted their search in the fastnesses of the mountains during nine days, without success; they could not find the cement. Then a ghastly fear came over him that something might have happened to prevent the doing of the necessary work to hold the blind lead (though indeed he thought such a thing hardly possible), and forthwith he started home with all speed. He would have reached Esmeralda in time, but his horse broke down and he had to walk a great part of the distance. And so it happened that as he came into Esmeralda by one road, I entered it by anotherⒺexplanatory note. His was the superior energy, however, for he went straight to the Wide West, instead of turning aside as I had done—and he arrived there about five or ten minutes too late! The “notice” was already up, the “relocation” of our mine completed beyond recall, and the crowd rapidly dispersing. He learned some facts before he left the ground. The foreman had not been seen about the streets since the night we had located the mine—a telegram had called him to California on a matter of life and death, it was said. At any rate he had done no work and the watchful eyes of the community were taking note of the fact. At midnight of this woful tenth day, the ledge would be “relocatable,” and by eleven o’clock the hill was black with men prepared to do the relocating. That was the crowd I had seen when I fancied a new “strike” had been made—idiot that I was. [We three had the same right to relocate the lead that other people had, provided we were quick enough.] As midnight was announced, fourteen men, duly armed and ready to back their proceedings, put up their “notice” and proclaimed their ownership of the blind lead, under the new name of the “Johnson.” But A. D. Allen our partner (the foreman) put in a sudden appearance about that time, with a cocked revolver in his hand, and said his name must be addedⒺexplanatory note to the list, or he would “thin out the Johnson company some.” He was a manly, splendid, determined fellow, and known to be as good as his word, and therefore a compromise was effected. They put in his name for a hundred feet, reserving to themselves the customary two hundred feet each. Such was the history of the night’s events, as Higbie gathered from a friend on the way home.
[begin page 269]
It reads like a wild fancy sketch, but the evidence of many witnesses, and likewise that of the official records of Esmeralda District, is easily obtainable in proof that it is a true historyⒺexplanatory note. I can always have it to say that I was absolutely and unquestionably worth a million dollars, onceⒺexplanatory note, for ten days.
A year ago my esteemed and in every way estimable old millionaire [begin page 270] partner, Higbie, wrote meⒺexplanatory note from an obscure little mining camp in California that after nine or ten years of buffetings and hard striving, he was at last in a position where he could command twenty-five hundred dollars, and said he meant to go into the fruit business in a modest way. How such a thought would have insulted him the night we lay in our cabin planning European trips and brown stone houses on Russian Hill!
He raved like a maniac . . . and swore a world of oaths that he would kill me] Clemens wrote Orion on 9 July, upon his return from nursing Nye:
Capt. Nye, as his disease grew worse, grew so peevish and abusive, that I quarrelled with him and left. He required almost constant attention, day and night, but he made no effort to hire anyone to assist me. He said he nursed the Governor three weeks, day and night—which is a d—d lie, I suspect. He told Mrs. Gardiner he would take up the quarrel with me again when he gets well. ( L1 , 224)
fourteen men, duly armed . . . proclaimed their ownership of the blind lead, under the new name of the “Johnson.” . . . A. D. Allen . . . said his name must be added] On 1 July 1862 Peter Johnson—an owner of the Pride of Utah mine and of the Union Mill near Aurora—recorded the relocation of a ledge he named the “Johnson,” in partnership with A. D. Allen and several others,
said location being a re-location of the ledges or claims known as the Harlem and Zenobia ledges and being a claim of One thousand (1000) feet, described as commencing at the Notice in the Pride of Utah Tunnel, and thence running on the Lode Eight hundred (800) feet east and Two hundred (200) feet West. (Esmeralda district mining deeds, Book E:44–45, Mono County Archives)
[begin page 646] (See the note at 269.10–12; “From the Esmeralda Mining District,” San Francisco Alta California, 23 June 62, 1; Esmeralda district mining deeds, Book B:488–90, Mono County Archives.) It may have been this relocation that an Aurora correspondent of the Sacramento Bee reported on 3 July:
The Wide West and the Pride of Utah companies struck the cross lead about the same time, and worked towards each other. . . . The men who work for the two companies located claims immediately after the discovery of the cross vein covering nearly the whole of it, as it was not the lead claimed by the original companies. (Veni, Vidi 1862a)
Johnson’s relocation did not go unchallenged. In December 1862 the Zenobia Lode Company published a notice that asserted
a superior title to the Johnson Co., claiming the same ground so far as said localities conflict. This ground is a portion of that now held by the Company known as the Wide West Company. The notice is signed by A. Waddell, J. C. Dorsey, S. P. Dorsey and James Elder. (“Esmeralda Mining Notices,” Mining and Scientific Press 6 [20 Dec 62]: 2, repeated weekly through 2 Mar 63)
I was absolutely and unquestionably worth a million dollars, once] Independent documentary evidence proves that the story of the Wide West mine and its associated rich blind lead took place essentially as Mark Twain recounts it. It has not been demonstrated, however, that Clemens and Higbie were directly involved, in spite of their virtually identical recollections that they made a claim and lost it by default. Furthermore, Mark Twain’s explanation of the applicable mining law does not seem to correspond to recoverable fact. That the story was at best an exaggeration is suggested by the content of Clemens’s letters of the period, which make little mention of the Johnson lead, focusing instead on the nearby Annapolitan—a claim located in September 1861 which he, Higbie, and several other partners owned. On 22 June 1862, for example—two days after he is conjectured to have located the blind lead—he wrote to Orion:
We are most damnably “mixed” as to whether the “Annipolitan” will prove to be the “Dimes” or the “Pride of Utah.” We want it to be the former—for in that case we can hold all our ground—but if it be the “Pride of Utah,” we shall lose all of [begin page 648] it except fifty feet, as the “P. of U.” was located first. There is an extension on the “P. of U.,” and in order to be on the safe side, we have given them notice not to work on it. ( L1 , 220)
Three days later, on 25 June, he informed Orion, “No—haven’t struck anything in the ‘Annipolitan.’ No—down 12 feet—am not afraid of it. It will come out well I think” ( L1 , 223). In his next extant letter—written on 9 July, after his return from nursing Captain Nye and nine days after the relocation of the Johnson ledge—he told Orion, “From what I can learn, the Pride of Utah and the Dimes have run together, at a depth of less than 100 feet, and now form one immense ledge, of fabulous richness. I suppose the Annipolitan will share the same fate” ( L1 , 225). A week or so later Orion, who had evidently learned something of the Johnson excitement from Tom Nye (Captain Nye’s son), wrote to ask Clemens about his involvement, prompting his only known mention of the Johnson claim: “No, I don’t own a foot in the ‘Johnson’ ledge—I will tell the story some day in a more intelligible manner than Tom Nye has told it” ( L1 , 228). These letters suggest that it may have been the Annapolitan’s proximity to the rich strikes which stimulated Clemens’s dreams of wealth, and that the true story of the blind lead has not yet been told. For a full anaylsis see Edgar M. Branch’s article “Fact and Fiction in the Blind Lead Episode of Roughing It” (Esmeralda district mining deeds, Book B:501–3, Book G:383–84, Mono County Archives; L1 , 134 n. 2, 216–224, 230 n. 6).