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Old Gold; or, The Cruise of the "Jason" Brig, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 28. The Yellow Metal |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. THE YELLOW METAL The men had landed and made fast the boat, and were now gathering wood for a fire, as Brace and the American stepped to the shallowest part they could find, where the stream ran swiftly, washing the stones so that they glittered and shone in the bright sunshine. "Suppose we try here," said Briscoe, rolling up his sleeves and making use of the shovel they had brought to scrape away some of the larger pebbles. "Now then, there, hold the bowls, or they'll be floating away." Brace thrust them down under the water, and Briscoe placed a shovelful of gravelly sand in one, balancing it so that it was level on the bottom of the bowl. "I say, we did not come up here to begin gold-hunting," said Brace reproachfully. "No, of course not. Ours is a naturalists' trip, and this is testing the mineralogy of the district," said Briscoe, with a peculiar smile. _Plosh_! Another shovelful of gravelly sand was raised and placed in the second bowl. Then the shovel was driven in, to stand upright. "Now," cried Briscoe, "wash away." "Like this?" said Brace, shaking the bowl, as he began to feel a peculiar interest in the proceedings. "No," said the American: "like this." And, stooping down and holding his bowl just under water, he gave it a few dexterous twists which brought all the bigger stones and pieces to one side, so that he could sweep them off with his hand into the river again. "I say, you've done this sort of thing pretty often before," cried Brace. "Yes, a few times," said Briscoe, laughing. "Up in the north-west in canon and gulch, with the Indians waiting for one. Come, go ahead; there are no Indians here." "There don't seem to be," said Brace, imitating his companion's acts and washing away till nothing was left in the bottom of the two bowls but half a handful of fine sand. "Did you find much gold up yonder?" said Brace, shaking away at his bowl. "Lots," said Briscoe coolly. "And made yourself rich?" "No," said the American drily; "I made myself as poor as a rat." "I don't understand! How was that? You found gold?" "Oh, yes. My partners and I spent one season up there prospecting, and altogether we managed to get together a hundred thousand dollars' worth of the yellow stuff." "That was pretty good." "Tidy." "Then how do you make out that you lost by it?" "Just this way. When we got back to civilisation and totted up, allowing fairly for the time it took and the cost of travelling, and what we might have done, say at work earning eight or ten dollars a week each, we reckoned that we were out of pocket." "Indeed?" said Brace, staring. "Yes. Gold-hunting's gambling. One man out of five hundred--or say a thousand--makes a pile: half of them don't make wages, and the other half make themselves ill, if they don't lose their lives. So I call it gambling." "Don't gamble then," said Sir Humphrey, who had waded to where they stood: and he looked on smiling. "Well, what fortune?" "Nothing in mine," said Brace, "and--nothing in Briscoe's." "Wrong," said the American: "you're new to the work, anyone can tell. There's plenty here to pay well." "What!" cried Brace. "Why, I can't see a bit of metal." "Look again," said Briscoe, and, dipping his shallow bowl, he gave it a clever twist to get rid of the water again and leave the fine sand spread all round and over the bottom. He held the bowl full in the sunshine, with the last drops of water draining off. "Now," he said, turning to Brace, "what can you see?" "Nothing at all," said Brace. "Nothing?" "Well, there's a tiny speck, and something that looks just yellowish right in the middle there. But you don't call that gold?" "Well, it isn't silver," said Briscoe, laughing, "so I do call it gold." "Absurd!" said Brace. "Oh, no, it isn't. That's good gold, and if properly treated the sand and gravel are rich enough to pay well." "When I go gold-washing I shall want to be where you can find nuggets and scales in plenty," said Brace. "Ah, so I suppose," replied Briscoe. "You wouldn't be content with a quartz reef with nothing in it visible, but which when powdered up and treated gave a couple of ounces of pure gold for every ton of rock that was broken out and crushed, would you?" "Certainly not," replied Brace. "Plenty make fortunes out of it, though, on such terms, and don't turn up their noses at a reef if they can get one ounce of it of a ton. This riverbed's rich, Sir Humphrey, and ready for explorers and prospectors. But let's try that sand-bank yonder, farther out." The trio had to wade through a channel knee-deep to get to the long sand-spit, for the most part bare, but over a part of which an inch or two of clear water trickled. Here the same process was gone through over and over again, with the result that when some shovelfuls of sand had been obtained from about two feet below the surface, the washings were rich enough to show glittering specks in the sunshine, while out of his own pan Brace picked a dozen thick scales of a rich dull yellow--the peculiar yellow of pure gold. He showed them to Briscoe, who nodded and said: "You have struck it pretty rich." "But how do I know that this isn't that what-you-may-call-it that's nearly all sulphur--that pretty yellow ore of iron?" "Iron pyrites?" said the American: "by trying it with the edge of your knife." "How?" "Like this," said Briscoe, picking up a flat water-worn pebble and, drawing his keen sheath-knife, he took the thickest scale in Brace's pan out of the sand, to place it upon the smooth surface. "Now," he said, handing this and the knife to the young man, "try and cut that scale in two." Brace tried, and by exercising a little pressure he cut through the yellow scale almost as easily as if it had been lead. "There," said the young man half-contemptuously, "what does that prove?" "That it is pure gold," replied Briscoe. "But all is not gold that glitters," said Sir Humphrey, laughing. "Not by a long way," said Briscoe; "but that is metal?" "Certainly." "It is yellow?" "Yes," said Sir Humphrey. "Then it is gold." "Why isn't it iron pyrites--the salt of iron and sulphur?" "Because if it had been it would have broken up into little bits: you could have ground it into dust." "So you could this," said Brace. "Impossible. You could beat it out into a thin sheet which you could blow away. That's gold, sir. I had two years' prospecting for metals and precious stones up in the Rockies, with a first-class mineralogist, and, without bragging, I think I know what I'm saying. This river's full of rich metallic gold, I'm sure of that." "I daresay you are," said Sir Humphrey: "only if this sand-spit is ten times as rich in gold I'm not going to stay here any longer. We shall be eaten up." "Yes," said Brace, "the little wretches! They're almost as bad as the tiny fish." "What, these sand-flies?" said Briscoe, slapping his face and arms. "Yes, they are a pretty good nuisance. Let's get ashore towards the fire--the smoke will soon make them drift." "Well, I've learned something about gold to-day," said Brace, as they picked their way back through the shallows to the bank of the river; "but oughtn't we to mark this place down so that it should be ready for the next gold-seekers?" "It wants no marking down," replied Briscoe: "the place will tell its own tale to anyone hunting for it." And he tossed the sand out of the pans, gave them a rinse, and stepped ashore. In another hour the excellent meal prepared by Dan had been enjoyed, and the regular preparations were made for passing the night on board; but in a very short time everyone had come to the conclusion that it would be impossible to sleep in the neighbourhood of the sand-spits, on account of the myriads of tiny sandflies, whose poisonous bites were raising itching bumps and threatening to close the eyes of all who were exposed to them. "It's getting too late to drift down the river a little way," said Lynton, "and, besides, it wouldn't be safe." "And we should only be getting out of Scylla into Charybdis," said Sir Humphrey. "I should like to be buried in sand up to my nose," cried Brace, whose face was getting terribly swelled. "Strikes me," said Briscoe, "that we'd better go ashore and sleep there after making up a good smother on the fire with green stuff that will smoke well. There's plenty about." This was agreed to unanimously after an announcement from the mate that, if they were to spend the night ashore, a proper watch would have to be set and kept. After the necessary preparations had been made in the dry, slightly-raised clearing in the middle of which the fire had been lighted, the party covered themselves with their blankets and rejoiced in the success of the plan, for the smoke rose and in the moist night air hung low, spreading itself out in a thin layer a few feet from the ground; and beneath this canopy the weary party lay down to sleep. _ |
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