Chapter VIII: Preface (2)

For the following few years up to 1847, I had a full share of patronage, but in consequence of the scarcity of money in circulation, the original load diminished slowly. In 1845 I had found and married my present wife in Yankeeland, Connecticut. Here allow me to perform the most grateful and pleasing duty of my life and say that to her unselfish, and devoted efforts for my interests, I am largely indebted for any measure of success I have attained in life. She had a strong affection for her native State and place of birth. I knew that my ledger showed I had more than enough to balance my obligations. Confident that there was an inviting field at her old home, I decided to emigrate to Connecticut, and in 1847 sold out to Dr. Odell,[82] and left Unadilla as I supposed for good—so little do we know what the future has in store for us. I located first in the town of Southington, Hartford County. The year following I bought a house and lot in Plainville, four miles north and a promising town of recent origin. Here I considered myself a permanent fixture and was building up a good practice when the whole course of my life was changed for a year. The scene was shifted to the tropics and then to California, in the course of which I nearly lost my life.

IV.

PANAMA AND CALIFORNIA.

1849.

In 1848 the news of finding gold in California was a prominent feature of newspapers all over the country. A fever for emigration to the mines spread with unheard of rapidity throughout the civilized world. Companies were being formed everywhere.[83] California was the only topic of interest. The question of how to get there was a knotty one; there were no railroads, and the Rocky Mountains, with an intervening, desolate, unexplored barren waste, offered apparently unsurmountable obstacles to an overland route. There was no course other than a voyage around Cape Horn—a six to ten months’ trip—or across the Isthmus of Panama, taking the chances of a vessel from that point—at that time a bye place rarely visited by sailing vessels. There were not vessels enough afloat to take the multitude anxious to make the venture.

A comic entertainment was put on the stage of one of the New York theatres in Broadway showing “Mose trying to go to California.”[84] I witnessed its performance while waiting to sail for the Isthmus with the company to which I was attached. It was exceedingly amusing. “Mose,” the leading character, was so strikingly like one of our company that we dubbed him “Mose” and he is still known by that name by the old members of the company, five of whom are still living. We have for several years had an annual meeting and a barbecued lamb dinner in a very romantic locality in Connecticut, beside a charming sheet of water, called Compounce Pond, under a high steep ledge of granite rocks, where we meet, with a few choice friends, and renew our experience in California gold digging.

Our company as organized consisted of eight men afterward taking in two more, one of whom was “Mose.” We had a capital of $4,000 invested in part in an outfit, including a years’ supply of provisions, and a twenty gallon cask of brandy which we kept full by putting in water whenever a draft was made upon it. We finally sold that brandy and water in Sacramento for $108. The original cost was $20.[85] We bought our tickets in New York for passage from Panama to San Francisco, on the steamer California[86] on her second trip from Panama. She was the first steamer sent out from New York by the Pacific Mail Steamship Company to San Francisco, and was billed to be due at Panama the 1st day of March, 1849, to make her second trip.

We took passage from New York on a sailing vessel, her name “Abrasia”—which was sent down by the Panama Railroad Company with supplies for making the preliminary survey of the road now running across the Isthmus.[87] She was lightly loaded with freight and the members of our company were the only passengers. We had a bouncing trip. The second day out from New York, just after striking the Gulf Stream, we encountered a terrific storm of wind and rain which lasted five days, the wind blowing right in our teeth and one day it was so violent that we were obliged to run on our back track 150 miles, under bare poles.

The most striking demonstration of man’s powerlessness and complete subjection to the mercy of the elements that I ever witnessed was on the day above mentioned—the wind blowing a hurricane with rain in sheets. As far in the misty distance as the eye could discern, was a vessel scudding under bare poles, and not a living soul was to be seen. The situation was anything but pleasant for green landsmen; not one of the passengers failed to pay his tribute to old Neptune in an involuntary effort to turn himself inside out.

As soon as it became evident that the captain knew his business and was attending to it, we buried our fears and really enjoyed the excitement. I was awakened one night by the captain swearing a perfect torrent of oaths. He had gone out on deck, as was his custom through the night, to see that everything was all right. He had nothing on but his shirt. Just as he reached the deck from his stateroom door a tremendous wave dashed over the vessel, drenching him thoroughly. It would be useless to attempt giving a description of the torrent which poured out of his mouth, but I laughed until my sides ached. Several years afterwards I met him at the United States Hotel in New York and reminded him of the storm. He told me it was one of the worst he had ever encountered.

We reached Chagres[88] on the Atlantic side of the Isthmus on the thirteenth day from New York, when we embarked on a little steamboat which had been sent down to navigate the Chagres river.[89] Could that stream, with its banks an impenetrable mass of vegetation, lofty trees covered with vines hanging in festoons with myriads of flowers of all colors, besides monkeys, parrots, paraquets, and many other birds making a perfect babel of song and chattering, bewildering to the northern ear—could it be easily reached by only a day or two of travel from New York, it would attract thousands of visitors.[90] At the head of navigation we were transferred to large dug-outs or canoes, manned by two natives with long poles, to take us to Gorgona[91] some twelve miles higher up the stream. These boatmen were stripped entirely naked for this work and every few rods would run their canoes on to a sandy shore, dive into the water and swim around until cooled off. We paid them fifty cents each for poling us twelve miles against the current. A Real (10 cents) was a day’s wages before the advent of California travel across the Isthmus.

Being ahead of time for the steamer we put up our tent at Gorgona, sent our Captain over to Panama—about 24 miles—to the agent of the steamship company for information. The Chagres river was simply alive with fish. When we threw in a handful of crumbs the water would fairly boil from their efforts to secure them, but if you baited a hook they would not touch it. We exhausted all plans for catching them. We had a net in our outfit 150 feet long, and thought that it would work; we got it out and strung it; got two boats and launched them into the water. Then we surrounded a host of fish and could we have landed them I have no doubt we would have had two wagon loads at least, but with three men to each rope, before we could get to the shore the fish began to jump over the cork line exactly like a flock of sheep over a stone wall; we secured only a few, perhaps a dozen.

Gorgona was at that time a village of perhaps fifty huts, standing on a beautiful plateau at an elevation of fifteen or twenty feet above low water mark. We remained there two weeks, then starting for Panama—distant 24 miles. All freight had to be packed on mules or natives’ backs. It was surprising the loads those natives would shoulder and not lie down until they reached their destination. They had a rack made of reeds to which the freight was lashed; when it had been placed on the shoulders a strap was passed around the points of shoulders and chest, and another around the forehead. I saw a large trunk, which weighed 225 pounds, thus lashed to a native and he started on a lope for Panama, which he reached next day without laying it down as the owner told me afterward. The road was simply a trail such as cattle make, very rough and rocky, making it very tedious to travel with a load. We were a part of two days on the route across, reaching Panama[92] on Sunday afternoon.

The first view I had of the Pacific ocean as it makes inland some 600 miles to form Panama Bay was a memorable event to me. The sea was as smooth as glass with not a ripple, and the reflection of the sun’s rays from the west giving the water a rich yellow appearance, made an impression that I shall never lose. My attention has since been called to some famous lines by the poet Keats on the discovery of the Pacific by the Spaniards. Keats says that when he first read Chapman’s translation of Homer he felt

“Like stout Cortez[93] when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise
Silent upon a peak in Darien.”

Our messenger whom we had sent ahead, finding that we were fated to be held there for an indefinite period, had secured rooms where we could live and we moved in at once. The house, a two-story stone building, belonged to the governor of the state. His residence was on a corner of the plaza, and our house was opposite. He offered the building entire to us for 150 dollars or to rent for two dollars a day. This will give an idea of the value of real estate at that time. A large three story building standing on the main street was bought that spring for 300 dollars and opened as the “American Hotel.” It is still run as a hotel as I have noticed in the news from there.

As I have before mentioned, the city up to the California gold excitement had had for many years a location on the map but no business; in fact grass was growing in the streets. The English government had a line of steamships trading with South American governments, on the Pacific side, which came monthly to Panama to unload and pack their ingots of silver on mules’ backs to cross the Isthmus, to be reshipped for England. I saw two cargoes of ingots landed; there were 150 or 200 ingots, shaped like a capital V, and weighing 150 pounds each. They were guarded across by soldiers.

The city was then surrounded by a heavy wall 12 to 14 feet high, laid in cement as hard as stone. On the water side it was built on the bed rock so far out that the tide coming in had pounded holes through the wall. There were two gates for ingress and egress, one the main gate from the land side, the other on the water side. Just inside the main gate and facing it was a nice little stone building having but one room; inside was a life size image of the Virgin Mary, beautifully dressed, with diamonds sparkling all about her breast. She stood on an elevated platform—at her feet a pretty box for contributions. It is a Catholic country and every person on coming into the city was expected to pass into the room, kneel before the Virgin in an attitude of prayer for a moment or two, throw in his mite and go about his business. The priests removed the offerings at intervals.

Gambling and cock fighting, the latter on Sunday afternoon after services when even the clergy were to be seen, with an occasional mock bull fight outside the walls were the leading amusements. I saw a man who was tantalizing a bull with a red rag, caught on its horns and hurled against a stone building, apparently killed, but he finally came to himself and walked off.

There was a large cathedral with several churches. The cathedral was never closed. I was there during Lent and Passion Week and the displays were simply gorgeous—processions by day and torch light ones by night, the entire population in line, bare headed. One night the Virgin was placed upon a raised three step platform, and carried about the streets on men’s backs. I counted 180 wax candles eighteen inches in length, enclosed under glass resting on the steps of the platform, a beautiful sight. Apostles and Saints had processions making rich displays.

Palm Sunday was a noisy one; every individual native had his whistle, made of palm leaf and there were thousands of shrill toots, until in the middle of the afternoon, a procession appeared escorting an image of Christ, with His crown of thorns, astride an ass, a large number of the clergy with banners being in advance, and they preceded by a bevy of 40 or 50 little girls, dressed in white, with their arms full of flowers, scattering them as they walked, and all singing. The next morning a rope was stretched across the street, with an image of Judas hanging, by the neck, and every passer by hurling some missile at him. I was strolling one day behind a church building and saw a hole in the wall some four feet from the ground; on looking in I saw deep down, perhaps 10 or 12 feet, small human bones. On inquiry I was told they were the bones of still-born infants who died unbaptised and were thrown in with quick lime to destroy the soft parts.

I walked one day out to the cemetery which is nearly a mile outside the walls. There was an acre of ground surrounded by a wall of 8 feet or more thick and 10 or more high, laid in cement. On the inside were three tiers of openings in the wall large enough to admit a coffin. The dead were placed in a nice coffin, dressed as the circumstances of the friends could afford, covered with a profusion of flowers, carried in state to the cemetery, then stripped of everything, put in a tight rough box, the box filled with quick lime and finally pushed into the opening in the wall and sealed up with cement. After a proper interval, to allow the soft parts to be destroyed by the action of the lime and when the hole was wanted for another, it was opened and the contents, bones and all, emptied on the ground and another body put in. The ground was covered with bones. I picked up a human jaw bone which must have belonged to a giant; it was more than twice as large as any one I ever saw before or since. I brought it home as a curiosity and loaned it to William Johnston, of Sidney, an eccentric man descended from the pre-Revolutionary pioneer of the same name, and he forgot to return it.

The water for the city was all brought in on the heads of women, in earthen crocks holding three gallons and sold for 10 cents a crock; the spring was the best part of a mile outside the city, walled up nicely, and ran about a half inch stream as I remember it. The tide comes in at Panama 23 feet twice a day, while on the Atlantic side at Chagres one would hardly notice that there was a tide. The places are only 50 miles apart. This is an anomaly I have never seen explained to my satisfaction; there must be some other than the moon theory I think.

When the tide is out at Panama one can go out on the rocks two miles, but he must look out for the incoming tide. I was out one day looking for shells very busily; when I looked up I was nearly surrounded by water; you may rest assured I ran for life once certainly; I could not get into the city but got out of the water about a quarter of a mile down the coast.[94]

We had arrived in Panama the first of March and expected to meet the steamer California for which we had tickets. She failed to appear on account of her crew deserting her on her first arrival at San Francisco; the result was we were obliged to lie there until the Panama which left New York the same morning we did, and aboard which we were now to sail, came around the cape and reached Panama when the agent of the steamship company put us aboard her. It was estimated that there were 3,000 people from the States in Panama awaiting vessels to proceed to California. The condition became more and more alarming as the detention and increase of people increased the congestion. Sickness was very prevalent, funerals were of daily occurrence, a plot for a cemetery had to be purchased and it was rapidly filled. Many having but little money soon found themselves without means for living and with no prospect of getting away they took the back track and returned home.

The excitement increased daily and so desperate became the situation that had not vessels appeared just as they did I think there would have risen a riot that would have perhaps destroyed the city; in fact there were several outbreaks which were quelled with difficulty.[95] The demonstrations of joy made upon the arrival of the steamer Panama and a sailing ship the Humboldt[96] were as cheering as the previous excitement was alarming. The intense heat on the Isthmus—the thermometer standing at 100 daily—was very trying to northern people, unless protected under the shade. Being nearly under the Equator exposure to the direct rays will strike one blind, but the cool trade winds from off the salt water, with quiet in the shade, relieve the oppression so completely, that reclining in a hammock with an interesting book became a luxury.

The natives are of mixed blood made up of Spanish, Negroes, and Indians and are a very strong athletic race. The language is a corrupt Spanish and in tone and expression charmingly beautiful. I was frequently stopped on hearing parties in conversation; there was so much excitement and emphasis that I looked next for blows and knock downs. The people are very friendly in manner but quick to resent an insult. They are free and unsuspecting in conversation. What would be denounced here as highly indecorous and improper is unnoticed. As an instance I recall that one day a nicely dressed lady was passing whose maternal ambition was soon to be gratified. I tipped my hat saying “Senora, pickaniny poco tempo?” She replied “Si Senor” and was as far from showing any expression of false modesty as though I had inquired the time of day. Children of both sexes up to 10 or 12 years are seen everywhere entirely naked, and pass unnoticed. The female dress is very picturesque and beautiful being made of light material with great profusion of ruffles and laces.

Without intending in the least to detract from the fame of our own beautiful sisters of the north, I must in truth say that the handsomest, most queenly and dignified woman I ever saw was a full blooded Spanish lady, who entered the cathedral at Panama one morning, at early mass, followed by her female servant carrying a handsome piece of carpeting for her mistress to kneel upon during her devotional service.

On the appearance of the “Panama” the local agent notified us to get aboard at once and we were not long in complying. Our detention had obliged us to pay in rent for the building we occupied money enough to have paid for the title as offered by the owner. Our Captain engaged a five ton dug-out, with two natives to take us and the outfit to the steamer which was lying at anchor six miles out in the bay. As I think of that day’s trip to the steamer a shiver will run over me to this day. We were loaded almost to the water’s edge, with but one sail, the wind strong in our teeth. We were obliged to start while the tide was coming in so as to reach deep water before the tide could leave us stranded on the rocks, and had to tack and beat against the wind and the inrushing tide for several hours until it changed to the opposite direction. We embarked about 8 o’clock A.M. and only reached the steamship after dark; thus the entire day was spent in a six miles’ straight line voyage; why we were not capsized has always been a mystery, loaded as we were and frequently flooded with water from the waves. The boat required almost constant bailing.

A very exciting incident occurred soon after our arrival on board. A difficulty had arisen between two ladies on their arrival at Panama. One was the wife of a distinguished Government officer, stationed in California to whom she was going. She is still living and somewhat famous. The other was a lady of equal social rank who had been the head of a prominent temperance organization in Philadelphia. She was possessed of stinted means and was anxious to emigrate to California to improve her financial condition. She had arranged with the first named lady to travel with her as a “companion,” her passage and other expenses being furnished as compensation. On their arrival at Panama the first named lady registered at the American Hotel as Mrs. —— and servant, to which the other took prompt exception, rightfully claiming that she was an equal in status as “companion” and should not be ranked as servant. The excitement among the Americans, whose numbers were estimated at 3,000, was very great, the sympathy being with the companion lady.

When the boats, or dug-outs containing the two ladies, arrived at the steamship, the commander, Capt. Bailey,[97] who had evidently been apprised of the trouble, refused to allow the second lady to get aboard. The passengers, who all understood the case, arose en masse and insisted, that having a ticket for passage, she must and should be allowed to go. The Captain, seeing the determined feeling, yielded, but declared she should have neither a stateroom, which her ticket entitled her to, nor a berth—no sleeping or toilet facilities whatever. The vessel was a side-wheel steamer, and a bridge called the hurricane deck spanned across from the boiler deck to the wheel house. Underneath this bridge the passengers were allowed to put a temporary berth, where she could lie protected from rain, but over her head was a shelf used as a catch-all for bolts, pieces of iron, etc.

One night the vessel was rolling badly and a large iron bolt rolled off striking the sleeping lady. At first she was supposed to be dead. She was married and the result of the injury was a premature confinement. The Captain barbarously refused to allow the ship’s surgeon to attend her, and a physician from New York was selected from among the passengers to officiate. She recovered after a dangerous illness, caused by unavoidable exposure, and reached San Francisco where she opened a first-class boarding house, and prospered as long as I knew anything of her. A few years after this incident the newspapers announced the death of Captain Bailey, from cholera. I know of one of those passengers who threw up his hat and cried for joy on hearing the news.

I should add here that after the vessel got out to sea a meeting of the passengers was called to make an authorative statement of affairs to send back to the east for publication. When we had assembled however the Captain came on deck and ordered us to disperse or he would bring his guns—two cannons, one on each side the deck—to bear upon us, run his ship into the first port he came to, and declare a state of mutiny. Of course we could only submit.

The voyage up the Pacific was a delightful one. The water was as smooth as glass with not a ripple to break its mirror-like surface—nothing but an undulating, regular swell, like the pulsations of the human heart. We were in sight of land nearly all the way. The mountain scenery, although so distant, was grand with the coast range of mountains, rising skyward thousands of feet, peak after peak, occasionally a nearly extinct volcano belching forth smoke, and all covered with a forest of dark, perpetual green. My only fear was that being so near the coast, we might run onto a sunken rock.

Aside from the view of the coast the voyage was devoid of interest. Occasionally whales were seen at a distance, blowing water as they came to the surface to breathe. We had a fine view of one which came alongside the vessel, within 30 feet, as I remember it. He played around the ship several minutes, finally diving and throwing his tail high in the air. A number of blackfish—a fish weighing I judged from 600 to 1000 pounds—followed in the wake of the vessel, for several days, apparently seeking the refuse as it was thrown overboard.

Three days before the trip ended it was announced that our provisions were giving out and we would have to submit to close rations. The coal was also giving out; in fact everything that would burn, oil, pork, resin and every surplus spar, was used up. We were reduced to sour krout for the last meal we had on board, the morning we entered San Francisco Bay. I have often wondered why I escaped death from eating that meal. I was very hungry from the short rations, and I don’t think I ever enjoyed a meal better. I must have stowed away at least a quart with no bad result.

The only stop we made was at San Diego where the Bay is quite large, but I judged shallow, the entrance so narrow that one could almost have jumped ashore from the vessel. Cape St. Lucas is usually a very windy locality, similar to Cape Hatteras on the Atlantic; it blew very strong when we rounded it and at that point we passed through what appeared to be oil, very offensive and foul smelling, covering a large area of water—and supposed to have come from a burned whale ship.

The entrance of San Francisco Bay, the Golden Gate and the bay itself, are marvelous works of nature. The “gate” is narrow, perhaps 200 feet wide—just a gap out of solid rock, rising perpendicularly upon each side perhaps some hundreds of feet. When we passed through, the tide was going out with a velocity, bewildering and frightful to behold. It did not seem possible that our vessel could move in the current but she proudly walked through, like a strong sea monster. As she was entering the bay what a marvelous scene was presented to the eye—a vast expanse of fathomless water running sixty miles north and sixty south from the gate and thus one hundred and twenty miles in length and having an average of ten miles of width. This reservoir of two mighty rivers—the Sacramento and San Juaquin—draining the entire country west of the Sierra Nevada range of mountains, has all to be emptied into the ocean through that narrow “gate,” and is truly one of the greatest marvels on the globe. The entire floating war vessels of the world could find anchorage with room for more. How strange that all this wonderful arrangement of nature for the benefit of man should have lain idle, and comparatively of no benefit, until it came into the possession of Yankee enterprise and of a nation the youngest in history and then hardly out of its teens. With what rapidity it has arisen in importance within the past forty years. Has blind chance caused this marvelous advancement?

The Bristol and California Co. the name of our mining association was made up of the following members: George W. Bartholomew, manager, Wellington Winston and Isaac Pierce of Bristol, Conn., Jared Goodrich, Andrew Jackson Norton, A. L. Dodge, Geo. W. Dresser, Eldridge Atkins, and the writer, all of Plainville, Conn. Bartholomew, Pierce, Goodrich, Norton, Dodge, with the writer are still alive, the writer being the youngest except Dodge. To Norton I am doubtless indebted for my life and ability thus to make a public record of our story; further history of this fact in detail will be given later on and I will simply say here that a more noble-hearted, self-sacrificing man never lived. May the declining years of “Capt. Dick” be as peaceful and happy, as he deserves to have them.

Large vessels, like the “Panama,” had to anchor three miles from shore in the bay; passengers and freight were sent ashore in lighters. This shallow water has now been done away with by filling in and docking out to deep water so that the business portion of the city of San Francisco stands now where then was water.

V.

SAN FRANCISCO AND SACRAMENTO.

1849.

The city of San Francisco[98] then had perhaps a hundred board shanties and cloth tents scattered about. We arrived the fourth day of June and when we returned from the gold diggings the next October there were blocks of buildings, three and four stories high, a busy city of 15,000 inhabitants as estimated. The most prominent business was gambling. Thousands of dollars, yes hundreds of thousands, in gold dust, I have seen lying upon the table awaiting the turn of a single card or the wheel.[99]

A gambler came into the diggings where we were and opened a dive. I saw him on winning a pile made up of ten cent pieces, scrape them off the table and throw them, in disgust, out into the brush as too small a matter to spend his time with. Coins of ten cents were comparatively of the same value there as the cent is here for the reason that they would buy no more; in fact there was nothing on sale, from a drink of poisonous whiskey up, for less than one dollar. Flour, corn meal, dried fruit, sugar, onions, etc., etc., were a dollar a pound. Consequently fractional money was a nuisance. When we went into the diggings our freight from Sacramento cost one dollar per pound. The result of such prices was that thousands of dollars worth of outfits were thrown away; storage for a common trunk was three dollars per month and everything else was in proportion. A rag picker, junk and old clothes man could have found his paradise in the streets of San Francisco and Sacramento in those days.[100]

We put up our tent in San Francisco and remained a week before we obtained a chance to reach Sacramento, vessels being very scarce. We finally found a thirty ton sloop which was about to make the trip loaded with freight; we started late in the afternoon, the vessel loaded so near the water’s edge that the waves would throw water through the scupper holes on to the deck. The captain was a sleepy thick headed fellow, evidently a chance “pick up” for the trip, with an equally intelligent crew of three. There was no system or discipline, every one doing just as he pleased. I have often wondered why we were not swamped and drowned before we reached the mouth of the Sacramento river.[101]

It would take a more alluring excitement than gold digging to induce me to undertake a like trip; in fact the whole enterprise from the outset was a fearfully reckless one, whatever the route taken, around the Cape, across the Isthmus, or overland. It is no wonder that disasters, deaths and total failures were far, far in excess of the successes.[102] Fortunately we induced the captain to cast anchor near the head of the bay for the remainder of the night. The next morning we sailed along up the river very nicely until we reached what was called the “sleugh” a stretch of deep, still water five miles long, having but little current. On the left bank was a thick forest of large, tall trees, the right bank being swampy and called Tulare Swamp. The latter was covered with bull rushes large enough for fish rods, 10 to 15 feet long, and gallinippers or mosquitoes were as large as horseflies and came in clouds. It was impossible to protect one’s self. They would think nothing of the pantaloon leg as an obstruction to their voracity.

The trees on the left bank being higher than our sloop’s mast, the wind could not reach our sails—the north west trade winds blew from that direction—consequently the vessel had to be warped up through the five miles; that is, a large rope shipped into a small boat which all vessels carry for emergencies was drawn out its full length, fastened to a tree and then all hands began to pull at the other end. Thus the vessel by main strength was forced up to the tree. We then anchored and paid out the cable for another stretch. Three members of the crew were unable to perform the task, and consequently we who were passengers had to do the work. At night we would tie up the ship, go ashore, build a big fire, get a meal, roll up in our blankets with our feet as near the fire as possible and sleep, the fire giving partial protection from the gallinippers.

We were five days warping through the “sleugh.” When we again got wind, every man was a fearful yet comical sight, face and hands swollen from the bites of the insects beyond recognition, eyes nearly closed, fingers and hands looking like small pumpkins with sticks in them. We were so long in getting through the warping that our provisions gave out and starvation was showing his grinning teeth very forcibly, but fortunately a boat passed us one day; it had no provisions to spare, but the captain informed us there was a camp of woodchoppers about two miles off; we sent out a committee of exploration; they were gone so long that we began to fear they had become lost in the forest, but they finally came in just at dark with several pounds of pork for which they paid two dollars a pound; all now was serene again.

I think the handsomest sight I ever beheld was while we were laboring so hard pulling our little vessel by main force up stream inch by inch. A large full rigged ship with every sail set and bending to the wind hove in sight several miles below us, the water flying in sheets from her prow. She moved along like a giant as she approached us and passed us as a thing of life, loaded with passengers, her captain in full dress pacing the deck giving his orders with all the dignity of an autocrat as he was. She soon passed us and was out of sight in a few moments, leaving us poor devils exerting our muscles to force our little craft inch by inch. Had our safety depended entirely upon my efforts I could not have used them while that magnificent scene was before us: my imagination was, and is to-day, so charmed with its soul inspiring beauty that I was completely overwhelmed with the scene and was unconscious of our condition. It was the most striking because of the great contrast between the conditions of the two vessels.

When we finally arrived at Sacramento that ship was moored to the bank with her sails all furled. I went aboard of her one day to take a good look at her and whom should I run against but Vincent Page of Unadilla, sitting on a stool cleaning up his gun. Through him I learned of R. G. Mead, Charles Smith, Henry Wright and others.[103]

Sacramento when we landed was a city in name only; there were only two board shanties, one being a store house for dry hides collected for shipment and market, the only business in the country previous to the gold excitement. The plot of land embraced in the city limits was originally owned by that old and now famous settler, Captain Sutter, who had a large ranch under a title from the Mexican Government. His residence was surrounded by a heavy wall for protection against attacks from Indians. In his later life he was unfortunate, with irregular pursuits, and finally lost his estate piecemeal and died in comparative poverty.[104]

Among his professed friends was “Sam” Brannon, a Mormon who managed to get title to the section embraced in the city which numbered in population the following October, when we returned from the diggings, 10,000.[105] Jay Street was built up with imposing two and three story solid blocks for a long distance back from the river; buildings of all descriptions were springing up in all directions. Had our company not been blinded, as were nine-tenths of the men who came into the country, by the gold fever, we might have made our “pile” in three months without seeing the diggings or doing a single stroke of labor. We were among the first to arrive and of course knew of the vast multitude who were on the way.

Had we invested what little of our capital we had left, with running our credit as far as it would carry us, in real estate, we could have been ready to return home when I did, the following November with all the money necessary for any reasonable company of men, but the argument was that we had started for the diggings where gold could be shoveled up like wheat in the bin. I made an effort with my company to allow me to remain, put up a big cloth house, open a hospital, put out my sign and they go to the mines. I had an interview with Brannon and he advised carrying out the idea by all means, and told me to select my location—that I might have any lot on Jay Street, now the Broadway of the city, for $300, and have six months’ time for payment. I selected two adjoining 25 foot fronts, but I could not prevail upon my company to release me. I was their physician and must be with them. The next October, when we returned for the winter from the mines these lots had been sold for $13,000 each and were occupied by fine three-story buildings.[106]

We arranged to have two of our company, who understood butchering, remain in Sacramento and open a market. Just across the river was a large ranch devoted to raising cattle for their hides. We made a bargain with the owner to sell us cattle as we wanted them to kill at $13 per head and furnish two men to help catch and drive them to the slaughter house. Beef was selling at 75 cents a pound just as fast as it could be cut up. On the morning when we were to start for the mines these two rebelled and thus broke up our arrangements.

After selling what of our outfit we could and throwing away the balance except our trunks, which we stored, we made a bargain with a man from Connecticut whom our captain accidentally met and recognized as formerly a professor in Yale College—his name I cannot recall. He had invested in a pair of oxen and a lumber wagon, and was hauling freight for a living.[107] We paid him one dollar per pound for carrying our kit on to the Middle Fork of the American river, or as near as the team could haul the load. The distance was estimated, I think, as 80 miles from Sacramento.

The party all had to walk, of course, and camp out at night. Except for being disturbed by the howling of wolves—and a big fire would keep them at a proper distance—camping out in the open air was really a luxury after a hard day’s journey in the hot sun. The air, during the dry season of the year—seven to nine months—is devoid of moisture; the regular northwest trade winds are robbed of all moisture while passing over the snow mountains, where it is condensed and falls as snow; there are no dews, but a delicious coolness calling for a pair of woolen blankets to lie under.

Sacramento City is situated at the junction of the American river with the Sacramento. We stopped there a week and decided to go on to the Middle Fork of the American. The American river is made up of three branches—north, middle and south. To reach the middle fork we had to follow up the main river some 40 miles when we struck the mouth of the south fork on which was located the sawmill built by Mr. Sutter, where the first gold was discovered in the tail raceway.[108] Here we exchanged our ox-team mode of travel for a train of mules.[109]

VI.

IN THE GOLD DIGGINGS.

1849.

From Sutter’s mill our route now lay over the steep rocky divide between the South and Middle Forks of the American river with nothing but a mule path to follow. The mountains before us called the Coast Range were from 2,000 to 3,000 feet high, very steep and rocky, covered with several varieties of oak and red cedar; wolves and bear were numerous, and also deer. We encountered no bear, but saw many fresh tracks soon after leaving camp in the morning.

There were numerous flocks of fowl larger than our partridge, the plumage a bluish color and a cockade of feathers curving from the top of the head toward the bird’s bill. From the crest of the mountain at the foot of which the Middle Fork, our destination, came in sight, it seemed impossible for a human being, much less a loaded mule to make the descent, the grade was so nearly perpendicular, but a zig zag or rail fence shaped path led down and we succeeded in traveling it without any mishap. A few days after, happening to look up the mountain, I saw a loaded train of mules coming down; one mule made a misstep, lost his balance and rolled head over heels to the bottom; he must have rolled 80 rods at least. I supposed he was killed of course, but the next morning he was feeding around apparently no worse for the trip.

We arrived at the foot of the mountain about 10 o’clock A.M., and set about putting up our tent and getting dinner. One of the company anxious to see gold stole quietly away with a pan and spoon. He returned within an hour with a half ounce of it. This aroused all; it was the first gold dust we had seen and that dinner was disposed of in short notice. All went down to the water edge, where our companion had found it. It was evidently an old hole worked the year before. As the result of our afternoon’s work we took to camp 12 ounces of gold and a happier company of men could hardly be imagined.

We were two weeks in exhausting the hole. Let me explain what I mean by “hole.” We had located on a large bar known then and afterwards as the Big Bar of the Middle Fork.[110] There were about 30 acres in it lying in a bend of the stream. It had been built up by the water during freshets. Gravel, cobble stones, and boulders comprised the material. The boulders which were in greatest proportion were from the size of an ordinary pumpkin, to that of a 40 gallon cask, of a green color, oblong in shape, worn to as smooth surface as a globe and nearly as heavy as the same quantity of lead would be. Consequently the moving of them was very laborious with no angles to clasp, no crowbars at hand and having from 8 to 10 feet in depth to move before we reached “paying dirt,” the thermometer standing at 118 in the shade from 10 to 3 o’clock. All these things combined will give some idea of the fun of gold digging. There being no statute laws the miners organized a code based upon Judge Lynch. Among these laws were those affecting titles to “claims.” A plot 10 feet wide running back 50 feet toward the mountain constituted a “claim.” A tool, worn out shovel, or other thing, placed there constituted a title; no one thought of disturbing a claim as long as the tool lay there. A claim being worked was the “hole.”

We finally pitched our tent upon a beautiful little plateau formed originally by a land slide. A spring of very cold water was near by. While we were at work in our first hole, a company from Vermont came to the bar and struck in a claim, sank a well hole down to the bed rock and left it. We had to pass by it on our way from our hole and I finally threw an old shovel in. It lay there several weeks undisturbed and when we had exhausted our job, three of our company including myself as the fourth decided to strike into this abandoned hole—here I should say that our company of eight—the others not yet arrived—had divided into three squads. It took us all the forenoon to clear out the hole of the boulders and debris which had been thrown in from the adjoining claims. After dinner we began washing pay dirt. I shoveled, another carried to the water, while a third was working the “rocker.” I laid bare a piece of gold while shoveling the second pailful, about one and one-half inches long and one-half to three-fourths of an inch wide and one-eighth of an inch thick, holding it up and hallooing to the boys if they knew what that was. We did not fool away much time that afternoon and carried home at night 12 ounces of dust worth then $16 per ounce or $192 for the half day’s work—pretty fair wages. But after taking out the offsets the profits were materially reduced. In the first place it took us one-half of our time to get down to “pay dirt,” then it cost us $3 per day to live—nothing was less than one dollar per pound—and the squad I was with made nearly all the money.[111]

That hole lasted our squad through the season. We would take down a bench of the overlying dirt two feet wide, ten feet in length and eight feet deep, down to within a foot of the bed rock where we would strike “pay dirt” and it was rich. We would carry home at night from 20 to 36 ounces of the shining metal. I remember distinctly that for the last two days, we carried home one day 36 ounces and the other 24. There was but one more bench to take down and we swapped it for a horse to pack our combined accumulations down to Sacramento, it being about time for the winter storms, with snow and rain, to set in. A big snow storm was liable to come on and shut us in the mountains for the winter, which, without a good stock of provisions was not a pleasant outlook; besides our partnership expired in October and we must go to Sacramento to settle up and divide. Running through the hole was a smaller hole about the size of an inch augur, literally crammed full of clean pure gold which required no washing, in flakes looking almost precisely like ripe cucumber seeds. We would get from ten to twelve ounces, out of that vein every bench we took down.

Our success was soon heralded down to Sacramento and San Francisco and miners flocked in until we had a village there of several hundred. The foot of the bar was made up almost entirely of the large boulders above described. The bed rock as it showed at the edge of the stream was evidently cup shaped declining back from the water. I proposed that one squad strike in there, but the work requisite was too formidable the others thought. I offered to be one of three to give the company one ounce a day for my time and take my chances, but no one would join me. A company of sturdy Pennsylvania Dutchmen started in there and took out gold in enormous quantities. They worked there four weeks and pulled out for home saying they had all the gold they wanted. You can rest assured I did some scolding as well as laughing at our men. The bed rock shelved back from the stream rapidly making a large receptacle for the heavy metal to drop in.

I worked as hard as anyone, although not obliged to do so according to our contract. I hung my “shingle” outside our tent, had a naval medicine chest of drugs and instruments, and did quite a professional business. One case I shall never forget. A tall, straight, noble looking German came into the tent one day. By motions—he could not speak English—I understood his ears were at fault; on looking in I could seen an obstruction. Making a dish of soap suds and with a glass syringe I took out of each ear a wad of figured calico cloth nearly as large as the end of my thumb. Warmer expressions of delight than those he exhibited I never witnessed. He drew out a bag of gold dust, threw it upon my medicine chest as much as to say “Take what you please, if it is all.” I weighed out two ounces which was as much as my conscience would allow; thirty-two dollars for syringing out a man’s ears seemed enough, but he was not satisfied and asked the entire company to go to a liquor tent close by and take drinks all around which cost him $1 per head or $8 in all. I suppose he had been in the military service in Germany and stuffed his ears in order to get his discharge.

We took turns of a week each as cook. The style of living was quite primeval. The kitchen apparatus consisted of a camp kettle, coffee pot and frying pan; the kettle answered for a boiler, baker and stewer. We freighted in a tierce of pork, dumped it on the ground under an oak tree, covered it with old coffee sacks where it lay until used up, the last portion as sweet as the first. Fresh meat hung up in the shade would not spoil but dry up as hard as our dried beef here. Pork, fresh beef or mutton, flour, corn meal, dried apples and onions were our articles of diet and all a dollar per pound.

We had as light and palatable bread as I ever saw, baked every day. We saved a bit of the dough for lightening the next day’s batch, adding the surplus grease from our fried pork. I committed an error while acting as cook that caused great fun for the boys for a long time after. I thought to surprise them at dinner by getting up an old fashioned boiled Indian pudding such as my mother used to make occasionally at our home in Kortright. I stirred up a measure of corn meal in cold water—that was the error—put in dried apples as fruit, tied it up in a white sheet and got it over the fire in the camp kettle about 11 o’clock while preparing the balance of the dinner and then called the boys. After disposing of what there was on the table they started to leave. I told them to wait as I had a desert; then went out to the fire, brought in my pudding bag anticipating the expressions of delight they would make when the delicious dish was revealed. It did look inviting when I rolled it out on the tin plate, but to my astonishment when I cut down the centre and the two halves rolled apart the inside was as dry as though it had never been wet up.