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Once Higbie said: "When are you going home to the States?" "To-morrow!" with an evolution or two, ending with a sitting position. "Well no but next month, at furthest." "We'll go in the same steamer." "Agreed." A pause. "Steamer of the 10th?" "Yes. No, the 1st." "All right." Another pause. "Where are you going to live?" said Higbie. "San Francisco." "That's me!" Pause.
It was not worth while now to deny anything. Bernardo Galvez read the letter and read it again. Then he folded it and put it in his pocket. "It is enough," he said, "Francisco Alvarez, you are guilty of attempting to usurp to yourself the powers that belong only to his Majesty, the King of Spain.
Dad says if there was an Irish nation with an army and navy, the whole world would have to combine to whip them, and yet the nation that has the control of the Irish people treats them worse than San Francisco treats Chinamen, makes them live on potatoes, and allows landlords to take away the potatoes if they are shy on the rent.
Smith, a pleasant but delicate Louisiana lady, had a white maid-servant, in whose fidelity she had unbounded confidence; but this girl was married to a perfect stranger, and off before she had even landed in San Francisco. It was, therefore, finally arranged that, on the California, I was to accompany General Smith to San Francisco as his adjutant-general.
I was left in charge of the ship until we went back to Japan in May. There I fell ill at Nagasaki, and after recovery found myself at Yokohama, in command of a gunboat ordered to be sold. This consummation was reached in September, and I then started for home, having the admiral's permission to proceed by Suez to Europe, instead of by the usual route to San Francisco.
"You know, when we were cast adrift by the scoundrels that took my ship, Captain Dall, Mr Cupples, and I, made the coast, and got to San Francisco, where we remained, working at what we could, to scrape together a little money before leaving for England, as we had no heart for the goldfields.
But only for an instant; the Ometepe, bound from San Francisco to San Juan del Norte, with its four seekers of the Excelsior, rolled and plunged on its way unconsciously.
In a room at the Soto House, 32 Fourth Street, San Francisco, was found the body of W. G. Robbins. He had turned on the gas. Also was found his diary, from which the following extracts are made "March 3. No chance of getting anything here. What will I do? "March 7. Cannot find anything yet. "March 8. Am living on doughnuts at five cents a day. "March 9. My last quarter gone for room rent.
Shortly I was talking to the landlady of the N J Hotel, who told me that Reba was still under her roof, but was expecting to leave for San Francisco on the next train. "Please call her to the 'phone," I said, and very soon I heard Reba's voice. "Hello; who wants me?" she said. "Mother Roberts, Reba dear," I replied. "Stay where you are. I am coming on the next train"
Then it was useless to proceed towards her; and Francisco again thought of putting the head of the raft to the northward, when the idea struck him, knowing the character and cruelty of the pirates, that there might be some unfortunate people left on board to perish in the flames.
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