He jumped ship in North Africa, and being without money and in danger of arrest, he joined the French army. For two years he campaigned in the Sahara, was wounded and discharged; and after recuperating he found his way to Afghanistan and joined the army there, entering the service as an officer of artillery. He advanced rapidly, but after the capture of Kandahar he left this service, spent some time in India, and at last reached Shanghai where he served in Francis Townsend Ward’s army in 1862 and 1863. It was after the capture of Soochow that he left. Once again in the United States, he had joined the Irish Brigade and fought at Chancellorsville, The Wilderness, Spotsylvania Court House, and Cold Harbor.
Now, at thirty-four, with only a few days left of his army service, Callaghen had three hundred dollars saved, and a plan to go to that California that lay beyond the mountains, a decision of only the last few days.
Captain Hill emerged from his quarters into the glare of the sun. “Callaghen? You had better sew on your stripes. You have some, I suppose?”
Callaghen smiled. “I saved them, sir. I figured they might come in handy.”
“You were with the Irish Brigade, I believe? You’ll be getting out just in time, I think. There’s going to be a new commanding officer here.”
“Sir?”
“It will be Major Ephraim Sykes, and he doesn’t like the Irish.”
Callaghen felt the icy touch of premonition. “I know the major, sir. And I know what he thinks of the Irish. And of me.”
CHAPTER 5
The captain was surprised. “You know the Major?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. We met briefly on several occasions. He’s one of those who believe we Irish are second-class citizens. I understand that before the war he operated a business where he had a sign: NO IRISH NEED APPLY.”
“I have heard something to that effect. Well, we will hope that your papers come through before he arrives.”
“We Irish are used to it, Captain Hill. We had it in Ireland for years, from the British. The Catholic Irish were allowed no schools of their own. For many years no Irish craftsman was allowed an apprentice. Priests had to go into hiding, or leave the country entirely. It was very rough.”
“And you?”
“I left, sir. I came over here for a while tried prospecting in California.”
Hill glanced at him quickly. “You did? You know something about minerals, then?”
“A little. Most of that I learned in Asia, later.”
“You should spend some time in the desert. There are all sorts of rumors, Callaghen. Some say there are vast deposits of gold and silver right here in the Mohave.”
His voice lowered a little. “Have you heard of the River of Gold? They say it runs through a cave under the desert.”
Callaghen shrugged. “There are always those stories, sir. You know when the Moslems conquered all of North Africa in the eighth century the Christians disappeared. Of course, most of them were converted to Mohammedanism very suddenly. It was the only thing to do if one wanted to survive. But some were killed, and some left the country… in any event, they vanished.
“As a result, there are strange stories that come out of the Sahara. Mysterious sounds are heard in the desert at night. The Berbers and the Tuaregs say the sounds come from cities under the ground, and in those cities the Christians are hiding until the right time comes for them to return.”
Captain Hill chuckled. “They’ll wait a long time, I’m thinking. Nonetheless, Callaghen, if I were a younger man and getting out of the army, I might give a little thought to the matter. You know, some of these desert rivers have gone underground, so why couldn’t it be that they had hollowed out caves there? And if there were gold in the rock… ?”
Several days passed in routine duty. On more than one occasion Captain Hill detailed three-man patrols to scout the country around, and each time they saw Indians. Twice they were fired on and returned the fire, but with no visible results on either side. Every day they scanned the road, hoping for the promised relief. The horses and mules were taken each morning to the sparse pasture, and guarded carefully. Several times Mohaves were seen in the proximity of the camp.
Twice trains of freight wagons went through, bound for the Colorado. The freighters were tough men, desert-seasoned and well-armed, yet on each occasion they lost horses to the Indians, and once a man was wounded. A prospector was killed within a few miles of La Paz.
Adobe buildings had at one time been built on the present campsite, but as the army had maintained no permanent station there, they had been allowed to fall into ruin. Sudden floods had damaged some of them; in others the hastily made roofs were in need of repair. During the hottest weather the men preferred the brush shelters where a breeze could blow through.
Callaghen led the repair work on several of the buildings, especially on some that were close together, always being careful to leave a good field of fire in case of defense by a small group. For months the army had been promising a good-sized detachment, but it had not come. And neither had Callaghen’s discharge papers arrived.
One day when Captain Hill came to inspect some of the construction, Callaghen said to him, “Sir, about Lieutenant Allison may I ask if you were notified of his coming?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“It’s simply that I suspect, sir, that he was not a proper officer. He had beenan officer; he knew the routine. But I think that he was not actually in the service now, but came here for reasons of his own.”
“Why would he want to do that?”
“Why not? If he knew what would be required of him, he would then be able to explore the desert for days or even weeks with a military escort. Communication is not good out here, sir, as you know. It is often thirty to sixty days between communications from headquarters. Knowing that, an officer could arrive, cover a good bit of country, and then disappear before anyone knew any better.”
“But why? No man in his right mind is going to ask for duty in this desert.”
“That’s just it, sir. He might have been looking for something. You yourself mentioned a river of gold. You suggested prospecting.”
Hill waved a hand carelessly. “That was just talk. Of course, any such place as this is bound to produce stories, legends but they’re nonsense, Callaghen, utter nonsense. This desert is a corner of hell several thousand square miles of sand, rocky ridges, and cacti, with no water at all, or bad water. A desert is a place unfit for man, and that’s why they call it a desert.”
Mercer was guarding the stock when Callaghen joined him. It was a clear, lovely desert morning, not yet hot. The morning sun left shadows in the canyons, but caused the ridges to reveal themselves with a stark clarity. One really never knew mountains unless he had seen them at both sunrise and sunset.
“Beautiful country here, Mercer… Aren’t you from Minnesota?”
“That’s right. It’s all very different there. The Indians are different, too. We have the Sioux, and some Chippewas.”
“You joined the unit with Lieutenant Allison, didn’t you?”
“Yes. That is, we had our orders and were waiting for the stage. He came up and joined us, and said he was going to Cady.”
“Too bad to have lost him. I think he’d have made a good officer.” He paused just a moment. “I forwarded his things to his sister. I don’t believe he had any other relatives.”
“He had some friends in Los Angeles, Sergeant. One, at least. He was talking to a man at the Bella Union before he spoke to us a very sharp-looking man with a broken nose.”
“Chance acquaintance, probably.”
“I don’t think so. At least, he trusted him enough to let him hold his orders for him. I saw the man give him his orders at the stage. It was the same envelope Lieutenant Allison turned over to Captain Hill.”
Holding orders, or delivering them? Callaghen watched the horses, talking idly with Mercer on half a dozen topics. Then he went back to the compound and stepped suddenly into his quarters. Croker was there, and he had Callaghen’s duffel bag upon a cot, open.
“What the hell goes on here?”
Croker turned sharply. “I was out of smokin’. Thought you might have some.”
“I don’t smoke. I never have.”
Croker’s smile was forced. “Say, that’s right! Now, why didn’t I recall that?”
“Stay out of my gear, Croker. I won’t tell you again.”
“Sure, Sarge. I’ll stay out, but don’t you get too pushy. Sergeant or no, I’ll take some of that out of you.”