It was perfectly logical. It was absolutely easy to make an effective
diversion by sea. But some fool's tongue or spy's keen eye ruins
all.

When, months after the seizure of the CHAPMAN, Valois learns of
this pitiful attempt, he curses the stupid conspirators. They had
not the brains to use a Mexican or Central American port for the
dark purposes of the piratical expedition. Ample funds, resolute
men, and an unprotected enemy would have been positive factors of
success. Money, they had in abundance. Madness and folly seem to
have ruled the half-hearted conspirators of California. An ALABAMA
or two on the Pacific would have been most destructive scourges of
the sea. The last days of opportunity glide by. The prosaic records
of the Federal Court in California tell of the evanescent fame of
Harpending, Greathouse, Rubery, Mason, Kent, and the other would-be
buccaneers. The "Golden Circle" is badly shattered.

Every inlet of the Pacific is watched, after the fiasco of the
Chapman. She lies at anchor, an ignoble prize to the sturdy old
Cyane. It is kismet.

Maxime Valois mourns over the failure of these last plans to save
the "cause." Heart-sick, he only wonders when a Yankee bullet will
end the throbbings of his unconquerable heart. All is dark.

He fears not for his wife and child. Their wealth is secured. He loses,
from day to day, the feelings which tied him once to California.

The infant heiress he hardly knows. His patient, soft-eyed Western