The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 31, 1897, Page 19

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALIL, SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1897. 19 “Keepa out a gooda crab, Carlos; I must take him home to Lucia. She vera fond of crat Ang then Carlos began to turn over a pile of wriggling, helpless crus- ns in the search for a *‘gooda one.” It took him a long time, and he examined nearly every one in the heap before he found one to his g. The creature he picked out looked for all the world just like the hundreds of others lying on the dock, but to his trained eye it must have borne some mark of superiority. “How this, boss?" be cried, holding it up proudiy. Then the boss examined the crab carefully. He tested each of its snapping claws and looked closely at the edge of the shell. -Thata all right,” he said after the inspection. *Very good, Carlos; you good boy. Now I go home to Lucia; she vera fond of crab.” The commonplace little incident just related took place afew days on fishermen’s wharf. It was rather early on one of those bright Oc- tober mornin The picturesque boats swung at their moorings and pitched their ards around in the wildest manner. The smooth hik water of the b flashed in the warm sunshine and its surface reflected everv object, and then twisted eacn into the gueerest kind ot shapes, eventually turning them into myriads of w serpents that went and down, and then seemed to disappear nowhere, "he boats had been in for some time and most of the catches disposel The fishers were | ing on the last cleaning touches, preparatory to going 1osleep. 1 was watching the whole pleasing scene of light and lor when I heard the words, “Now I go Lome to Lucia.” Chey sounded stranze coming from an Italian fisherman, for some- = I had never considered that these brave fellows had any other homes 1 their boa's. We all know how they live when in pursuit of the unny tribe. We know of their trials and pleasures; their disappoint- ents and successes. entirely new to me. Then I determined to investigate, and the result of my investigations proved to be both a sarprise and a revelation. I found that the average Italisn fisherman is an ideal father and a loving husband, and is also fonder of his home than any other place in the world. It is true he may occasionally spend a few hours in his favorite cafe on Broadway, but why should not he? When his hard life is considered one cannot deny him a little recreation. Even his wife is perfectly wiiling that he should while away a few hours as he pleases. Most of the homes of the Italian fishermen are scattered about the e of Telegraph Hill. There are a few down near the water front, but the greater number are in the big buildings along Broadway and Vallejo street and as far up as Montgomery avenue. Here they are *‘at home.” And such homes as thoy are! Poor in worldly goods, most of them may be, but rich in that affection, so natural to the Latin people, that enables them to attain the greatest happiness to be had in this world, even though they live in a garret. “Now 1 go home to Lucia,” the fisherman had said. followed, aiter ta But the idea of one of them “going home” was He started and 1 “Coma up and see my bov,” Miguel said winen we had left the cafe and were standing on the sidewalk, “Where do vou live?" 1 asked. “Just overa there,”” he answered, pointing to a building near the corner of Broadway and Montgomery street. *I musta go right away and taka the crab to my wife.’” Miguel was a fine specimen of manhood as he stood there, still attired in his rubber boots and heavy woolen hat. He was about six feet tall, well proportioned and as muscular as an athlete. His bronzed and weatherbeaten face, covered with a scraggy beard, gave him the ap- pearance of being over 40 years of age, although he said he was not more than 28. But taken altope:her, Miguel was almost a perfect type of his class. I saw and conversed with many other Italian fishermen and could not fail to note the resembliance in their characters und ap- pearance. For the most part they were good-natured and.iriendly, and willing to talk, about their homes and their families and just a little bit about their boats. The Italian fisherman has four loves—his chitd, his wife, his God and his boat. It all depenas on the man as to which is given the preference. Some might say it 1s ail a matter of taste, and perhaps that is really all there is 1o it, although as 4 weneral thing I found that the preference went with the man’sage. The younger men ail give the preference to the boat, and the older to their God. 'Twas the middle-aged man who thought the most of his wife and babies. But I went with Miguel to his home. We climbed three flights of stairs and reached a porch hung with nets, hooks and lines 2nd other fish- ing paraphernalia. Going along a desolate looking hall with the plaster- Ing knocked off on both sides, Miguel knocked at a aocor at the further end. “‘Come in," called a woman’s voice without the faintest trace of a for- eign accent, We entered and there was Lucia. She was sitting in the sanshine with her babe. “I wanta to show my friend our boy,” said Miguel, as a look of sur- Pprise and interrogation came over his wife's face. Instantly her face was aglow witn pleasure, and she proudly uncov- ered the head of the youngster, who slept peacefully through it all. “That's a fine boy,” I said. “He looks like his mother."” “Yes,” she replied; “*We are both blondes, and his father 1s mighty proud of it. You see, I am only half 1talian. My mother was German, and I was born rightdown in the first block on Montgomery street. My father was a fisherman, but he diei peacefully in his bed ataripe old age.” 1 looked about the room where the little family made its home, and surely it was clean and comfortable enouch tor anybody. The walls were spotlessly white and the floor was scrubbed until it was clean enough to eat from. The three windows where the sun came in were. fairly filled with flower-, and there was some sort of a plant in every corner where one could be placed. Besides Miguel ana his wife there was a young woman in the room who had nothing to say, but sat and looked at us al! in the most sur- vrised manner. It was explained to me that she was Miguel's sister,who had just arrived from Italy and could not speak a work of English. “You ought to be happy here,” I said to the young mother, when Miguel had abserted himself from: the room for a short time. Indeed, I am,” she repl ed, “for I have a good husband. Most of the fishermen make good husbands, even if they are away at a dangerous business most of tue time. They are always glad to get home where it is warm and cozy; and I don’t blame them, for their work is awful hard and the returns are very small. Now we are very pocr, but we have enough to eat and drink, a comfortable place to live, and can spare a little money for the church. The church, you know, is our great com- ifort in time of trouble. When the sea runs high and our husbands are out in their little boats God is the only one we can ask to take care of them. And bealways does. He has never failed me yet. Miguel and g0 to church every Sunday that he is home. “'Of course, I think my husband loves his home more than some of the men. He is here most of the time heis notat work. 1 never ask him to stay home, but always let him do as he pleases. 1f he wants to 8o to the saloon and play cards I always let him go. But he never stays long, because he likes his home better.” “Your crab is alla fixed to cook now,’’ said Miguel, entering the room ON SUNDAY HE™ GOED TO CHURC WITH HIS WIFE at this moment. He then took the baby in his arms while his wife went out to the kitchen. I took my departure. After leaving Miguel's home I wandered about the neighborhood and wherever I saw a fishing net went up to the door on the pretext of in- quiring for a certain man. I peeped into many homes of these toilers of the sea and saw different aspects of family life. Fully nine-tenths of the places, however, were almost duplicates. In several the “laay of the house” was an American girl. in a big box covered with fish scal not go straight home. If he had it acquainted with him. the least. “Fine craby “Yes,” he replied. * home to my wife. Sbe v for she vera fine woman, my wife.” “Got any children?” I asked. th “Oh, ves; we gota one boy, six months old. “What's his name?” “Carlos. At tbis point of \d*'mk a glass of wine. of this wine on Broadw cobweb covered bottle. *“Whata your name?’ asked the fisherman, after a few moments' silence. I told him and he informed me that his was Miguel Romero. also told me that his wife’s name was Lucia, not knowing that I had ing a look back at Carlos, who was busy packing crabs nd sait crystais. likely I would never have become As it-was he stopped in a little cafe. after him. He carried the crab in his hand, and once in a while the creature gave one of his fingers a nip, which he didn’t seem to mind in u have there,” 1 ventured. finest a-kind tuata we ketch. a fond of crab. Of course I giva her the besia, We nama him after my wafe’s brother.” e conversation I askea the fisherman if he wouldn’t He assented. and I won his heart and his admira- on by calling for a botile of “Lacrima Christi.”" ¥, =0 I also won the respect of the barkeeper, and it was a proud moment for him as he filled our glasses out of the dust and But the boss did I went in Itaka him He vera fine baby.” Tney do not sell much He been possessed of that knowleige for some time. “SHE WAS SITTING IN THE SUNLIGHT WITH HER BABE.” tented. In a very iew places there coarse and rude. ng lines were broken. to find them. swered my question began to few blocks of his home. he said. baby and all the rest of us go thing. All of these were surely happy and con- Nearly all were polite and made efforts to give me information was squalor and filth. The women wers The nets hanging on the porch were torn and the fishe The children were dirty these places the men were always absent. and unkempt. From But I thought I knew where In one place a very old man came to the door and before he had an- tell me about himself and bis family. He was a great-yrandfather and had over fifty descendants living within a ““We fishermen and our families are a happy and contented people,” *“We know just how we are going to live and we live that way. ‘We have our homes and our church and our resiaurant.”’ “Your restaurant?”’ I asked. “Oh, yes; that is very important. it to the church and it is christened. Now when a baby is born we take Then papa and mamma and the to the Buon Gusto and we celebrate. Long years aiter, when the baby is grown up and gets married, it is the same We 20 to the church and then 1o the restaurant. and a bie change for us old people.”’ And I found that the old man was right, for when I went past the res taurant I saw a wedding party just going in and a christening party just it is good for us coming out, so that they passed each other on the threshold. Then I went to the church, but here the eutrance was blocked by a funeral procession. WiLL SPARKS. Copyrighted. CHAPTER VIIL She paused again, and her glance wan- dered vacantly and anxiously about, and then with sudden flashing of the eyes and in such a sharp, determined tone as I had heard before she resumed: “I must—I will—tell the whole truth. Thisis more than I caa bear. Willyou bear me?” “Yes,” answered the District Attorney. ‘I will inform you how you can vernfy &. that I am going to say. 0. *“It is Eleanor Dubois. My father wasa colone!l in the Confederate army, and our home was in -New Orleans. Some years name?"” To ther and motber both died. only ckild, and ble property, which my father, by his will, placed in the charge of his brother, Hippolyte Dubois, a cotton factor of New I was the Do you know | after the war, when-I was an infant, my | inherited a considera- | | Orleans, 1 T My uncle placed me in a con- | vent. While T was there he died, a widower, and left my guardianship in the nands of his eldest son, Henry. Henry had a brother named John. I never | knew my cousins, except for their occa- sional visits to the convent, until recently, when, at the request of Henry, I left the conveut, after having made it my home for twenty years. The request came in the form of a ietier from Henry at Den- | ver asking me to join them there. I| thought it strange that they did not come | for me, as I was not accustomed to trav- eling. They seemed exceedingly glad to see me, and treated me with the utmost deference. 1found them to be gentleman- ly in speech and bearing, but before long Idiscovered that something odd appeared in their conduct—a strange kind of cau- tion, a certain veiled manner of talking, and the care which they took that I should not become acquainted with'the queer-looking people with whom they MORRO 3 associated at night. In the daytime they nearly always ket closely to their rooms. 1 bad an instinctive feeling that there was somethinz wrong about them, but I dia nct understand what it was, and my sense of loyalty and duty toward them prevented any show of distrust on my part. “We traveled from one city to another, my cousins always giving me all the money I wanted, which I suppossd was my own. They never zave me the small- est insight into their affairs, except to say that they were dealers in real estate in the new Western towns. I can under- stand now that my presence was a ma- teria! snield to them in their criminal practices. ““We came to San Francisco six weeks ago and boarded with a family on Devisa- dero street. ln afew days 1t became evi- dent that my cousins were in trouble, but they would only laugh at ms when I asked them what annoyed them. Two or three days before this gentleman [refer- ring to me] was summoned to see me my beautifully furnished. I was surprisea when I learned that we were to have no servants, that none of us could go jout in the daytime, and that my cousins would bring cooked food to the” house at night. Henry explained that finaucial scrupulous land agent had swindled him out of allthat we owned, but thatif we could hide for a time and thus avoid legal process, und keep our securities with us to avoid attachment, we shoula come whole out of the trouble: but that, as the rascal had the law on us, he would ruin us if he discovered our whereabouts. “‘He brought out a valise and opened it, and showed me that it contained a great many papers, which he said represented | el that he and John and I had in the ruin stared us in the face; that an un- | world. He then said that a furthe:r pre- caution was advisable—that the papers be | concealed away from us, and asked me if | I _could undertake the task. In fact he prevailed on me to do so, assuring me that I was the cleverest eirl in the worid, and that I could do anything 1 tried. “It bad happened that not long before this transfer to the furnished house this centleman |again referring to me] had saved my life by dragging me from in front of a cable-car before which I had | slipped and fallen. It 15 not true, as I had toid him, that I had met him at the Horse Show, but Idid feel very grateful, and it is true that I often tried afterwara to attract his attention on the street and that he treated me with contempt. When my cousin set his problem before me I blushes here became painful, and she kept her glance cirected toward the floor]. “‘Speak unreservedly, madam,” came from the District Attorney in so kinda voice that it was impossible to resist it. “A womar bas some shame and deli- cacy, sir,” she said, as her lip trembled agsin, “*Well, 1f I must—don’t you see that I thou:ht I could accomplish two ends at once—have him de me another servica by taking care of the securities, and at the same time make him think bet- ter of me than he nad done?” The demureness and embarrassment with which she said this completely dis- armed me and I must have shown my sentiments, for the District Attorney cast an amused glance my way. 1 explained my plan—ior secreting the cousins informed me that they bhad |decided to undertake its solution; but had | named Martin. taken a furnished house and that | it not been that—that—I aesired to show we ehould live there for the pres- | my gratitude toward my rescuer, ana to | friend of h ent. We went to the house. It was|tell him how—grateful I was—" [Her securities—to my cousins, and they ac- | cepted it heartily. Oh, what villains! It was I who went with my cousin John in the hack (my Cousin Henry driving) to get this gentleman, and what I said that night about another woman, whom I pre- tended to have sent home, was untrue. When I left him in the drawing-room I hurried upstairs and made myself up asa dying woman.” Here her eyes sparkled merrily, but quickly became grave again. “I suppose he has told you all that hap- pened in the room that night. I knew he would not consent to stay, and I had no intention of trying to compel him but it all makes me look so ridiculcus now that I could die of shame. Well, that very night, after he kad gone, my Cousin John had me writea note to a man He said he had just re- flected that Mr. Martin, who was an oid would keep the papers more secursly than a stranger. The note was vague and unsigned, but he said that Mr. Martin would understand it. It merely informed him that a valise containing some articles which he desired to procure could be found in this gentleman's rooms, “I never suspected that the papers which I had seen in the valise had been taken out and counterfeiting tools substi- tuted. I had never dreamed that my cousins were counterfeiters. We left the house the next day, to my great sur- prise, and took small rooms on Cali- fornia street, where we kept closely concealed. I was very wretched, be- cause I knew that this gentleman would suspect something wrong by reason of my not keeping my promise to send for him again, and I wrote him a let- ter, but my cousins, to whom I intrusted | 1t, doubtless destroyed it. We have been | there ever since, and were going to Aus- tralia, as I understood it, to escape our creditor. When you accosted me at the dock, I thougnt you were officers whom | he had sent to rob us. Isthere anything else for me to explain?” There never were three more dum- founded men. Martin’s hard, shrewd face | was curiously twisted into a half-incredu- | lous grin; the District Attorney’s ex, | pression was one of a genial, whirsical wonder, and I—I was ready to die of shame that I bad mistrusted this most charming and wonderfu! girl for a mo- ment, and would then and there have given my right hand for her admiration. She was asked many prying questions, all of which she answered, and all that she said was easily verified; and when all that was done her worthy cou-ins were tried and convicted, and sent to the gray old prison of San Quentin, and this mest remarkable of ail possible girls went tree and alone into the world, with my poor heart in her keeping. i, M wie . December came, and could thers have been a sweeter close to the happiest year of my life? But life in all its years is so strange a tuing! Of what can 1 now be certainbut that my beautiful wife, my matchless Eleanor (for really, she was ahaid to remain alone in this big world), is not a spurious coin, but came pure and shining from the mint of the Almighty? | And ifin tnis precious relation which we bear to each other she has but the more firmly bound and gagged awd blindfolded me than on a certain night which I re- | member, I must coniess that itis a thralle dom of infinite sweetness. Tue Exp. L e |