Chapter VI: Adventures by Flood

We started down the river on the 22nd of December. Our crew consisted of Thomas D. Bonner, captain, Austin W. Pinney and myself. We carried down two or three passengers. The river being very much swollen by the recent heavy rains, we went down the river as far as Fremont the first day.

Fremont is a small town named for the “Pathfinder” and is situated on the west bank of the Sacramento River at its junction with Feather River.

We remained at Fremont until the morning of the 23rd, when we again started and reached Sacramento City before night.

By the way of the crooked river it is about 150 miles from the Burch ranch to the “cloth city,” as it was then called. Pinney was employed by Mr. Burch as clerk to purchase the goods, and consequently I had very little to do while at Sacramento. We remained at the city during Monday and Tuesday. Pinney in the meantime made his purchases, and on Wednesday we were prepared to start for Feather River with our cargo of stores and provisions, liquors, etc.

Sacramento City at this time was built principally of cloth houses and tents. However, there were a few very fair framed buildings and numerous smaller shanties.

It was generally known as the “Rag City,” which was an appropriate name indeed. Almost all the better class of buildings in the city were occupied as gambling places, drinking saloons, or something equally as bad.

Sacramento City is situated at the junction of the Sacramento and American Rivers, and near Sutter’s old fort, on land originally granted to Captain Sutter by the Mexican government. The location of the city is low and subject to inundations at extreme high water. Large steam vessels ply between this city and San Francisco. The fare is from thirty to forty dollars.

Sacramento City is at the head of ship navigation on the Sacramento, but small vessels can go above.

In the spring of 1849 this place began to be boomed as a city and now it contains several thousand inhabitants, and is a smart business place. Everything here is life and bustle, where fortunes are made in a day and are lost as quickly. A large amount of sickness prevails at the present time.

Dr. Haines and C. S. Fifield, who left us on Raft River, are both in the city at the present time. Fifield has a paint shop and is doing a good business. Dr. Haines has a small hospital for the sick and seems to be doing a considerable business and says he is making money.

Mr. Woodbury, who was a member of the Granite State Company from New Hampshire, is with Dr. Haines, and is very sick. He was taken with the diarrhoea soon after he entered the valley and has since continually been growing worse.

He knew me very readily when I entered his room, and taking me by the hand, said with tears in his eyes, that he should never again see his home or his friends. I tried in vain to cheer him, telling him that there still was hope for his recovery, but it was all of no avail. He said he should live but a few days, and his prediction proved too true. Poor fellow! A wife and family in New Hampshire waited in vain for his return home.

While in Sacramento I also saw a Mr. A. Webster, with whom I became acquainted before I left Hudson. He was sick with the scurvy, and unable to perform any labor. He was selling cakes on the levee. I thought that his existence, too, would soon terminate, but I never after heard from him. Probably he sleeps, with the many thousands of gold hunters, on the banks of the Sacramento--the sleep that knows no waking.

Instances of a similar description are almost daily met with in California. Men who left their homes and friends in the East to take their chances in the mines, if possible, to gain a few paltry dollars in the New Eldorado, are stricken by disease, and death soon ends their earthly career. It seems truly hard to die in California among strangers, with no friends near to sympathize and in some small degree, alleviate the pains of their dying moments.

On Wednesday, December 26, we left Sacramento City and started on our journey for Feather River. Our boat was loaded down with provisions, liquors and other articles. Thomas D. Bonner was captain, A. W. Pinney and myself constituted the crew, and we had two passengers aboard--a North Carolinian by the name of Stedman, (who by the way agreed to work his passage up the river), and a physician from Nova Scotia.

The North Carolina man seemed to be somewhat bigoted and wanted the best accommodations the boat afforded, and while we were making our way up the river he never offered to pull an oar or do anything to assist us in the least, but always kept the best seat aboard the boat dry from morning until night by sitting upon it steadily with an India rubber blanket over him when it rained, which was a considerable part of the time. This did not appeal to me as being the proper manner for him “to work his passage” up the river, as the stream was high with a rapid current. With a heavily loaded boat it was quite difficult for two men to make any progress with their oars against the strong current. As Captain Bonner failed to remind Mr. Stedman about his agreement to work his passage up the river, I thought I would take the risk to jog his memory in relation to it. The result was instantaneous and Mr. Stedman and I had a falling out immediately. He was quite excited and seemed to be on the point of explosion. I certainly anticipated an immediate challenge from Mr. Stedman to meet him in deadly combat and settle the matter Southern fashion. But for some unknown cause he suffered me to continue to live. Had a challenge been forthcoming I cannot now say what the outcome would have been.

The Sacramento was very high, almost at full banks, and having had a head wind, we made very slow progress. At some points along the river the banks were overflown and the valley for miles in extent back from the river was one wide sheet of water, extending as far as the eye could reach. The valley of the Sacramento is nearly level and extends from the river to the Sierra Nevada mountains on the east, and to the coast range on the west, and at some points it is fifty or sixty miles wide.

Pinney and myself pulled the boat up the river against the wind and current, Captain Bonner sitting in the stern and steering her, while Mr. Stedman and the doctor made themselves as comfortable as was possible under the circumstances.

We had three barrels of liquors, brandy and whiskey, aboard and soon after we began to ascend the river, Captain Bonner, president of the New Hampshire Temperance society, and late a noted temperance lecturer, notwithstanding, tapped one of the whiskey barrels and commenced drinking the contents. This movement on his part somewhat surprised me, although I had began to learn not to be easily surprised at the acts of men in California. But I had heard Captain Bonner say much in favor of temperance and I supposed he would be among the last to taste of whiskey.

At first he drank a little, and after a short time he took a little more, and he continued to take a little quite often and said he could not live in California without it. He said that he had once been a hard drinker, and I was afraid that he was in great danger of falling into his former evil practices.

He argued that it was impossible for him to live without it in California. It had once saved his life, but that if he should return to his home in the East, he would again be as strong an advocate of temperance as formerly. How this proved I cannot say, but while I knew him in California after I was with him on this trip, he appeared to be one of the most confirmed hard drinking men that came within the circle of my acquaintance.

To pull the heavily loaded boat against the current we found to be very hard work and the progress was quite slow. We had made our way up the Sacramento a considerable distance, when one day, owing to the head wind being so very strong, we could make little or no headway; we were compelled to tie up and remain nearly the whole day.

This was at a point where several choppers were at work cutting wood for the Sacramento market. They were paid eight dollars per cord for cutting it and were not required to split it. This I thought would be a good job, and that if Mr. Pinney would hire another man in my place to help pull the boat up the river, I would stay and cut wood for a while. I promised Mr. Burch my wages for the time I had been on the trip, thinking he could find no fault with that arrangement. Mr. Pinney thought I was under obligation to him to help dig the ditch for Mr. Burch and said that if I stopped here he should do the same.

I knew that such an arrangement would not be fair treatment to Mr. Burch. Mr. Pinney had a settlement to make with him in regard to the purchases made and the funds remaining in his hands. He also had contracted to excavate about 120 rods of ditch. I had consented to dig a part of it and would not refuse to do it without his full consent. Still I thought he might release me. Under the circumstances I continued to go up the river with the boat.

On the 5th day of January, 1850, we reached a point on the river about twelve miles below Burch’s ranch, where we were met by Mr. Burch, who concluded to go with us up the river in the boat. Our passengers left us here and started on foot toward the mines.

After meeting Mr. Burch we proceeded toward our destination and on the night of January 7th reached a point not more than one and one-half miles below Burch’s. Two or three days previous we had fallen in with another boat and party bound up the river, laden with provisions, owned and manned by some men from the Pine Tree state. They were two brothers by the name of Frye, Jack Percy, and a man working for them.

On the night of the 7th we all camped on the bank of the river almost within sight of home--“Our California Home”--but on the opposite side of the river. The night was dark and stormy and the rain descended in torrents, with the wind blowing almost a gale from the south. After several fruitless attempts we succeeded in starting a fire, by which we cooked some pork and flapjacks.

On the morning of January 8th it still rained as hard as on the night previous. We started on our journey as early as it became sufficiently light to see how to arrange our camp fixtures properly. We did not even remain to prepare any breakfast, but started with the expectation of reaching Burch’s ranch before noon. We were not long in reaching the foot of the rapids in company with the Maine boat.

We had aboard a long rope and we concluded it would be the better plan for all hands to pull one boat up by the willow brush that grew along the water’s edge a

From an Old Drawing.

SACRAMENTO CITY IN 1850.]

rope’s length, and then draw the other boat up by means of the rope.

The river being high and there being a strong head wind blowing for us to contend with, together with the fall in the stream at this place, we found it to be a slow and very tedious process to pull a heavily loaded boat up the river by the willows that skirted the shore. We would first pull up one boat a rope’s length, and then draw the other boat after it, and thus we labored incessantly until at length we succeeded in getting both boats near the head of the rapids, when by some unfortunate mishap, the boat got into the stream beyond the reach of the willows, and before we could recover we were again at the foot of the rapids and the other boat was also with us. To pull her up again was the hard labor of two or three hours, but it seemed to be the only practical plan that we could pursue.

Consequently, we all worked with a will and at length succeeded in pulling her up the second time, arriving at a point a little higher up the stream than we reached at the first time. We were pulling the other boat up after us by the rope and holding our boat to the brush, when suddenly the brush gave way and very soon both boats were again at the foot of the rapids.

These repeated accidents and disappointments, considering all the existing circumstances and conditions, were anything but comforting to our empty stomachs and wet backs. It was now getting toward the end of the day and we had tasted no food since the night previous.

The rain had descended in torrents all day and we were cold and wet, but to pull the boat again to the head of the rapids before dark seemed to be our only alternative. Could we succeed in getting our boat safely over the rapids by daylight, we could soon reach our destination, and we were anticipating a warm supper and dry lodgings in Burch’s tent.

Consequently, we once more, for the third time, worked our way by the brush to the head of the long rapids, and just as it was becoming dark we had succeeded in bringing both boats to the head of the rapids for the third time. Just at that point of the river there was a short bend in the stream so that we would get the benefit of a fair wind from that point up. Pinney was in the bow of the boat holding to the brush, Captain Bonner and Burch were near the stern arranging to get under weigh, and I was hoisting the sail.

Mr. Burch said: “Be sure to hold fast this time, Pinney.” But for the moment the latter seemed absent-minded and before I had the sail raised he released his hold upon the brush and seized the foot of the mast to enter it into its place. Instantly we were again beyond the reach of the brush, and very quickly were again at the foot of the rapids! Our companion boat continued up the river without trouble, so far as we knew.

To work our way up again to the head of the rapids that night seemed to be an impossibility. It had become extremely dark. The rain continued to descend copiously, as it had done continuously for more than twenty-four hours. The river was so full of snags that to make the attempt to cross it in the dark was to hazard our lives.

We were on the opposite side from Mr. Burch’s ranch, and also on the opposite side from another ranch owned and occupied by a Frenchman, John Ruells. On the side where we were there were no habitations within twelve or fifteen miles. After a consultation we came to the conclusion that the best we could do, under the existing circumstances, was to land and await until the next morning.

Accordingly, we pulled our boat as far into the willows as it were possible, and I, being at the bow, chained the boat to a small tree. I thought it was probable that considering the large quantity of rain that had fallen the stream would continue to rise some during the night, and to guard against accidents I chained the boat about three feet above the water and gave it about twelve feet of spare chain.

The small willows were extremely dense, and in making an attempt to reach the shore, I found the water at the bow of the boat was five feet deep. As we had no dry matches and there was no possibility of procuring any fire, we concluded our condition would probably be nearly or quite as comfortable aboard the boat during the night, as it would be if we could succeed in reaching the bank. Consequently, we concluded to remain on board, though we had nothing cooked that we could eat and we were cold and wet.

The rain was still descending and I believe that in all my life I never laid down to a night’s lodging with so small a prospect of the enjoyment of a moment’s comfortable rest and repose as on that night. The rain, although it was from the south, was cold, and each one of us shivered so badly that the boat fairly quivered from stem to stern!

I covered my head and after enduring the situation for some hours, fell into a broken, dreamy slumber, from which I was suddenly awakened with the cold water rushing over me. I jumped to my feet immediately and simultaneously with the whole crew. But we had no sooner gained our feet than the boat went under, sending us all with our load of freight into the river! The boat immediately after came to the surface with its keel upward.

The first thought that occurred to me was to immediately strike out and swim to the shore, but my second thought was to get upon the bottom of the boat and get, if possible, a survey of my situation.

Consequently I pulled myself up upon the upturned boat. At about that time Mr. Burch cried out: “For God’s sake pull me up or I shall drown.” I took him by the hand and drew him up. He said he could not swim a single stroke. Captain Bonner, who had sometime been a sailor, attempted to swim.

He wore his “sou-wester,” a canvas hat painted white. In the darkness I could just trace the white hat as it slowly moved along the surface of the water, but it soon disappeared from sight and then it reappeared. It almost immediately disappeared the second time when I reached for one of the oars that was within sight to try and reach him, if possible. Again he came to the surface and climbed up a small tree that was standing in the water near the upturned boat. He climbed as far up the tree as he could, it being the top of a small willow. His feet were about four feet above the surface of the water. No sooner had he gained his position on the tree, than he said he came very near drowning.

To all appearance our position since we chained the boat to a tree the night previous had been transformed. The rain had ceased to pour, clouds were beginning to become broken, and the darkness was not so dense. We could dimly discern on our side the waters of the river rushing swiftly past, gurgling and whirling, carrying along with them large masses of flood wood, intermixed with immense logs and whole trees, while on the other hand we could discover small trees and brush rising above the surface of the water, and still a little farther in the distance was a large growth of cottonwood trees. The latter were probably some twelve or fifteen rods distant to the east of our position. We could see no land.

The question of what was the immediate cause of this severe accident soon began to be discussed among the party. Mr. Burch made the inquiry who it was that chained the boat. I answered that it was I who chained it. He thought that it was not fastened sufficiently secure and that it probably came unhooked, floated down the river and in some way became capsized. The same opinion at first seemed to be entertained by the majority of the party. However, I knew it had been faithfully secured and that it was almost an impossibility for it to have become loosened.

It occurred to me that the boat was still chained to the willow tree as we had left it when we had laid down, and that the river had risen to such a height that the bow of the boat had been drawn beneath the surface and it naturally capsized. This seemed almost an impossibility, but it proved ultimately to be the true version of the cause of the accident.

After I had considered the matter as to the safest and best course to pursue, I concluded to stay by the wreck as long as it seemed possible, and the entire crew seemed to be of the same mind.

We soon began crying for help at the top of our voices, but at the same time we were without the slightest hope or expectation that anyone could render us any assistance on that night.

First one would cry aloud for a few moments and then another would take it up for a time, and thus it would go around through the whole list.

The day previous Captain Bonner had a two-quart jug aboard which he had drawn nearly full of whiskey for his own private use, and when he discovered the “little brown jug” resting against the tree beneath his feet, he was very much pleased. He soon recovered it and after taking a drink from it, passed it around. It was about one-half full when recovered and it went around at intervals the remainder of the night.

We were compelled to sit in the cold water nearly to our waists, from the time of the accident until daylight, and it was not anything like a comfortable position. As near as we were able to judge, the boat upset about one o’clock.

Occasionally we heard a voice in reply to ours, but no one came to our assistance until it became daylight, when an Italian came in sight around the bend in the river in a small zinc boat and took us ashore. Captain Bonner had nearly perished.

Before we were rescued the water had reached to his waist, as he stood upon the tree, and he could ascend no higher. Mr. Burch and Captain Bonner both said that they never expected to see another day, and they would have it no other way from the moment of the accident until the rescue.

Mr. Burch stated and several times repeated it, that he would willingly give all he possessed in the world to be set on shore. I made the reply that I would pay fifty dollars to any one to put me ashore safely, but that was the extent I would give.

After getting ashore I found my limbs so benumbed that it was with great difficulty that I could walk a step.

About ten o’clock we partook of a little breakfast that had been prepared for us, it being the first of anything we had eaten for upward of forty hours. On an investigation a little later we found the river had risen about twenty-five feet during the night, occasioned from the heavy rains together with the melting of large bodies of snow in the Sierra Nevada mountains.

After two days’ rest we all felt nearly or quite as well as if nothing had befallen us, and strange as it may seem, not one of the party even caught the slightest cold from all the exposure.

The night of the 8th of January, 1850, will probably be long remembered by all of this little party of four men.

At that time the great freshet and overflow at Sacramento City was experienced, which destroyed an enormous amount of property and caused so great an amount of sickness, suffering and death--when it was said the population of the city decreased about three-fourths in the space of six weeks, owing to deaths from cholera, fevers and others diseases, and from immigration to other places.