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Title: The gold seekers of '49 : A Personal Narrative of the Overland Trail and Adventures in California and Oregon from 1849 to 1854
Author: Webster, Kimball
Language: English
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*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The gold seekers of '49 : A Personal Narrative of the Overland Trail and Adventures in California and Oregon from 1849 to 1854" ***
[Illustration: KIMBALL WEBSTER IN ’49.]
The Gold Seekers of ’49
A PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF THE OVERLAND TRAIL AND
ADVENTURES IN CALIFORNIA AND OREGON
FROM 1849 TO 1854.
BY KIMBALL WEBSTER
A NEW ENGLAND FORTY-NINER
_With an Introduction and Biographical Sketch_
BY GEORGE WALDO BROWNE
_Illustrated_
BY FRANK HOLLAND AND OTHERS
MANCHESTER, N. H.
STANDARD BOOK COMPANY
1917
Copyrighted 1917
GEORGE W. BROWNE
DEDICATION.
TO MY FIVE DAUGHTERS, MRS. LIZZIE JANE MARTIN, MRS. ELIZA BALL
LESLIE, MRS. JULIA ANNA ROBINSON, MRS. MARY NEWTON ABBOTT, ALL OF
HUDSON, N. H., AND MRS. ELLA FRANCES WALCH, OF NASHUA; AND TO THE
SWEET MEMORY OF THAT LOVED DECEASED DAUGHTER, LATINA RAY WEBSTER,
WHO QUIETLY PASSED TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE “GREAT DIVIDE,”
NOVEMBER 12, 1887, THIS NARRATIVE IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY
THE
AUTHOR
KIMBALL WEBSTER
[Illustration: KIMBALL WEBSTER AT EIGHTY-FIVE.]
HON. KIMBALL WEBSTER.
It is with keen regret and sorrow that we are called upon to record the
going out of the life of the author of the following pages, who has died
since work was begun upon the book. Mr. Webster was born in Pelham, N.
H., November 2, 1828, the seventh child and third son of John and Hannah
(Cummings) Webster. His education was acquired in the schools of his
native town and Hudson, N. H. He grew up inured to the hard work upon a
New England farm, besides working in granite quarries in his 19th and
20th years. In April, 1849, a little over six months before he was
twenty-one, with others scattered all over the country, he caught the
gold fever. Characteristic of his methodical ways, he kept a journal of
his journey across the country and of his experiences as a miner in
California and land surveyor in Oregon. His experiences in the Land of
Gold are told in his own vivid language in the following pages, and form
one of the most interesting narratives of the days of the gold-seekers
of the Pacific Slope.
In 1855, after leaving Oregon, he was employed as a surveyor and land
examiner by the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad Company in the western
part of Missouri. In 1858 he lived in Vinal Haven, Me., working in a
granite quarry, but the following year took up his permanent residence
in Hudson, N. H., where he lived the remainder of his long and useful
life. Following his leading occupation as surveyor and engineer, always
active and capable in his duties as a citizen, Mr. Webster became a
valuable and respected leader in public affairs, at one time or another
holding all of the offices in the gift of his townsmen, while there were
few important committees in which he did not figure prominently.
Possessing an observing mind, a good memory and a logical discernment
and summing up of local and general matters, he early began to compile a
history of his town, and after fifty years of painstaking work he had
collected the data for one of the most comprehensive town histories ever
written. He was then past eighty, and it was the pleasure of the
undersigned to be associated with him in the preparation of the
manuscript for the printer and its publication. During work upon that,
his “journal” of the days of ’49 were examined, and finally he consented
to have it published.
He was a Justice of the Peace and had an extensive probate practice for
nearly sixty years. He was a Mason and active in the order of Patrons of
Husbandry. Mr. Webster retained his mental and physical powers, owing
largely no doubt to a perfectly abstemious life, until within a short
time of his decease, which occurred June 29, 1916, being 87 years, 7
months and 27 days of age. Noted for his sterling qualities, and having
a wide acquaintance, he was mourned by a large circle of friends.
Mr. Webster married, January 29, 1857, Abiah, daughter of Seth and
Deborah (Gage) Butler Cutter, of Pelham, N. H., who survives him, as
well as five of their ten children, who have married and lived in
Hudson.
RIGHT
G. W. B.
CONTENTS.
Chapter Page
Biographical Sketch of the Author 9
Pioneers of California 15
I. Tidings of a New Eldorado 17
II. Across the Continent 23
III. The Overland Trail 33
IV. The Humboldt River Trail 83
V. The Land of Gold 100
VI. Adventures by Flood 122
VII. Life in the Mines 137
VIII. The Illusion of “Gold Lake” 156
IX. Mining on the Yuba River 168
X. With Compass and Chain in Oregon 182
XI. Homeward Bound 227
Story of the Discovery of Gold 237
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
Portrait of Kimball Webster in ’49 Frontispiece
Kimball Webster in His 85th year Opp. p. 9
Placer Mining in ’49. By Frank Holland (from an
old drawing) 17
Overland Trail. By Frank Holland 33
Bay of San Francisco 49
The Golden Gate 65
San Francisco in 1849 81
Sutter’s Mill 97
Mining Scene 113
Sacramento City in 1850 129
Postoffice in ’49 145
Custom House on the Plaza 161
Vigilantes in ’49 177
Miners Starting for Home 193
Great Seal of California 209
Warship Portsmouth. By Frank Holland 225
ERRATA
Line 16, insert George W. Houston, Joseph B. Gage,
and Calvin S. Fifield 20
9, read Moore, not moon 39
9, read formed, not found 45
19, erase of, and insert on, after mountains 63
19, erase s at end of line, and insert r (Fort
Bridger) 65
10, read service berries, not summer berries 74
Top, Chapter IV 83
18, spell Winnemucca 83
19, correct spelling of principal 96
15, read miners, not winers 101
18, read weighed, not wished 102
17, After promised, insert “to release to” 127
Top, also line 8, spell protractor 151
27 and 28, read the Pelham camp 166
2, after “The” erase following, and after
morning insert before starting 167
3, erase leaving and insert learning 177
8, at end of line add ship, “Columbia” 189
Top, erase “the” between “to” and “commence” 190
4 and 7, erase measured and insert meandered 207
7, erase compassman and insert campman 207
22 and 23, name of river, “Callapooya” 210
16, erase “have” and insert “had” 216
THE PIONEERS OF CALIFORNIA.
The story of the pioneers of all times and all countries is one of great
interest. In it is embodied the combined elements of adventure and
patriotism; the certain forerunner of the coming greatness of the land
quickened by the inspiring efforts of the newcomers, usually men of
sterling qualities and unswerving purpose. The history of none of these
adventurers is fraught with keener interest or more momentous results
than that of the “Gold Seekers of ’49.”
* * * * *
The story of the men who dared and did so much in the early days of the
discovery of GOLD on the Pacific Slope has never been fully told. In the
pages of this remarkable book we are given in plain straightforward
language without any attempt at embellishment, by one who participated
in them, the trying experiences that comprised the adventures and
achievements of the hardy volunteers forming the little army of gold
seekers who crossed the plains immediately following the cry that awoke
the land from ocean to ocean as no other word could have done.
With no Jason to lead them, no seer to prophesy success, no wizard to
avert danger, these brave Argonauts pushed resolutely forward across a
continent, traversing thousands of miles where the Greek heroes traveled
hundreds, passing over long, weary stretches of pathless plains, under
beetling crags, along frowning chasms and over alkaline deserts, where
the barest sustenance of life was denied them, constantly menaced by the
Arabs of prairie and mountain flitting hither and thither across their
way, enduring sickness and privations sufficient to have discouraged a
less determined body, comrade after comrade falling from the ranks, the
ever-decreasing band still resolutely marching onward into the Land of
Gold, to become the creators of a mighty commonwealth, the builders of
states. Through the flood of circulating coin that their pickaxes
unloosened was advanced the prosperity of a nation whose progress since
has been the wonder of the world.
In the midst of all of this, and much more that a glance at the scenes
cannot even suggest, Mr. Webster bore a prominent part as pioneer,
miner, prospector, and surveyor of the new country. With over half a
century intervening since that far-away day his vivid narrative comes to
the few now living who participated in the scenes like a voice in a
dream, while imparting to others the inner story of an era in our
country’s history that forms one of its most important chapters.
With nearly two-thirds of a century intervening since the days when the
“gold fever” swept over the country, awakening steady-going New England
as nothing else could have done, it is not strange we seldom meet now
one of the veterans who answered the call and crossed a continent in a
march as beset with dangers as many of a more warlike purpose, or
rounded a world to pursue the phantom of fortune in a strange land. Very
few of the Gold Seekers of ’49 are living to enjoy the halcyon days of a
long and useful life.
RIGHT
G. W. B.
[Illustration: A Drawing by Frank Holland from a contemporary painting.
PLACER MINING SCENE IN ’49.]
THE GOLD SEEKERS OF ’49
CHAPTER I.
TIDINGS OF A NEW ELDORADO
Late in the autumn of 1848 some reports began to be received from the
new Territory of California, which had then lately been acquired by the
United States from Mexico, that large deposits of gold had been
discovered there, and that the small resident population had almost
forsaken their former avocation and had repaired to the rich mines where
they were reaping a golden harvest, in many instances making large
fortunes in a brief period.
These reports were at first almost entirely discredited by the people of
the United States. Many believed it to be some cunning device of
interested persons to decoy thither immigrants and thereby stimulate the
growth of that sparsely populated territory.
During the early part of the winter of 1848-49 these reports were in a
great measure corroborated and confirmed by official statements from
government officers, who were stationed on the Pacific coast; and as
early as January, 1849, vessels were fitting up in Boston, New York and
other Atlantic ports, in a manner suited to convey passengers around
Cape Horn to the New Eldorado, as it was then called.
The Pacific Mail Co. had at the time a line of steamers plying between
New York and San Francisco, by the way of the Isthmus of Panama. These
steamers made but one trip each way a month.
As soon as information of a reliable character was received in the
Atlantic states regarding the mineral wealth of California, a large
portion of the population became more or less excited, and many of an
adventurous nature were at once determined to leave their homes and seek
their fortunes on the western slope of the snowy mountains.
The query then arose, which was the cheapest, best and most expeditious
route to reach San Francisco?
The long and tedious voyage of five or six months “around Cape Horn,”
though perhaps the cheapest, was viewed by many as being almost beyond
endurance.
The route by the Isthmus of Panama was attended by difficulties and
dangers in crossing the Isthmus from Chagres to Panama, a distance of
about fifty miles. This journey was performed in boats up the Chagres
river, and thence by mules to Panama.
The journey by the latter route from New York to San Francisco had
usually been performed in about thirty days and had usually been
considered the better route.
So great was the rush to California by the way of the Isthmus in a short
time, or as early as January, the tickets by that route were largely
sold in advance for several trips, and thousands of passengers who had
taken passage to Chagres were unable to get any conveyance from there
to California, and were compelled either to remain at Panama for weeks,
and in many instances for months, or to return to New York or Boston.
This congested state of affairs rendered the Mail route extremely
objectionable. While thousands were waiting for a passage at Panama, a
large percentage of those waiting passengers were sick with the Panama
fever or other tropical diseases, and many died from such diseases.
Numerous companies were organized during the winter with the intention
of pursuing the land route across the extensive western plains and the
Rocky Mountains, which was thought could be accomplished in from sixty
to eighty days.
It will be remembered that all the country between the Missouri river
and the Sacramento valley, which was called “The Great American Desert,”
was almost an unbroken wilderness. No white people were then allowed to
settle in that vast territory.
As soon as I had sufficient reasons for believing California to be what
it had been represented to be as a gold bearing country, I was
determined to go myself; and after taking a prospective view of the
difficulties and dangers incident to a protracted detention on the
Isthmus and the tediousness of a long, monotonous journey via Cape Horn,
I finally concluded to cross the country by land; believing it would be
an interesting and romantic journey and one not entirely free from
difficulties and hardships.
The Granite State and California Mining and Trading Company was
organized in Boston in March, 1849, as a joint stock company, with a
constitution and by-laws extremely strict and precise.
The above company numbered twenty-nine members, principally hale,
hearty, strong men, who were then about to leave their homes and friends
to seek their fortunes in the newly discovered gold mines of California.
The names of these twenty-nine men were as follows:
Charles Hodgdon, Grovensor Allen, Dr. A. Haynes, John Lyon, Lafayette
Allen, Samuel W. Gage, Joseph D. Gage, Thomas J. True, Alfred Williams,
Cuthbert C. Barkley, Kimball Webster, Erastus Woodbury, James M. Butler,
Alden B. Nutting, Benjamin Ellenwood, James W. Stewart, Jonathan Haynes,
Charles W. Childs, Robert Thom, Jacob Morris, Austin W. Pinney, J. P.
Hoyt, George Carlton, J. P. Lewis, Dr. Amos Batchelder and Edward Moore.
Ten of these men were from the town of Pelham, N. H., as follows: Capt.
Joseph B. Gage, Samuel W. Gage, Joseph D. Gage, Dr. Amos Batchelder,
George Carlton, James M. Butler, Austin W. Pinney, Robert Thom, Benjamin
Ellenwood and Jacob Morris.
The majority of them were natives of Pelham and had always resided there
as neighbors. Several of the others were from Boston, and a few from
other towns of New Hampshire and Massachusetts.
Each member of the company was required to pay into the treasury the sum
of three hundred dollars which, it was estimated, would be sufficient to
furnish the necessary outfit and cover all traveling expenses.
It was the boast of the officers and many of the members that the
Granite State Company would carry with them and introduce into
California New England principles. Pelham was my native town and
although my home at that time was in Hudson I was acquainted with the
larger number of the members from Pelham previous to the organization of
the company. With the exception of the Pelham members they were all
strangers to me. I was twenty years of age on November 2, 1848, five
months before we started.
The officers at the time of starting were: George W. Houston, President;
Joseph B. Gage, Vice President; Edward Moore, Secretary; Calvin S.
Fifield, Treasurer; besides a Board of Directors. Another company
similar to our own had been organized in Boston and numbered about forty
members and was called the Mount Washington Company. These two companies
mutually agreed to travel in company until they should reach California.
The president of the last mentioned company, Captain Thing, having
several years previous traveled across the country from Independence,
Missouri, to Fort Hall and Oregon, in company with some of the men of
the American Fur Company, agreed to pilot the Granite State Company
through to California for five dollars each.
Some two or three weeks previous to the time of the starting of the two
companies, Captain Thing and Lafayette F. Allen of Boston were selected
to go to Independence, Mo., in advance of the two companies, with
sufficient funds to purchase mules and cattle in numbers adequate to
supply the needs of the two companies in their embarkation on the broad
plains at such time as they should arrive at the above mentioned place.
The necessary arrangements having all been matured and the members
having provided themselves with guns, pistols or revolvers,
bowie-knives, and a plenty of powder, lead, caps, together with such
other articles as they thought they might need on their long journey and
after they should arrive at the “New Eldorado,” we started on our long
journey.
CHAPTER II.
ACROSS THE CONTINENT.
TUESDAY, APRIL 17, 1849.
We left Boston this morning at about 8 o’clock for Albany, by way of the
Western Railroad.
After shaking hands and bidding such of our friends as had gathered at
the station a good-bye, we seated ourselves in the cars, and as they
began to move, the spectators that had gathered in and around the
station sent up three most hearty cheers for the California adventurers;
and they were very readily and heartily returned by us, while we were
started on our way with railroad speed toward the land of gold.
We had a special car into which no intruder was allowed to trespass, and
I believe a more jolly company of men has seldom been found. We arrived
at Springfield, Mass., at about noon where we were fortunate in
procuring a fine dinner, to which all did ample justice. After we had
eaten we were soon on our way again.
We arrived at Greenbush, N. Y., before night, where we had some little
trouble with the baggage master about procuring our trunks, which had
been checked at Boston, as we had failed to procure the corresponding
checks. However, after some little dispute he gave them up and we took
the ferry boat for Albany on the opposite side of the Hudson.
It will be remembered that at that time no railroad bridge spanned the
Hudson River. Everything had to be ferried over. At Albany we took our
quarters at the Mansion House.
I will here mention that on the road today we fell in with George W.
Houston, our president, who had started in advance of the company for
the purpose, as it was said, of evading some officers who were in
pursuit of him for the object of detaining him until such time as he
should be able to liquidate some obligations.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 18.
We left Albany at 12:30 P.M. in an immigrant train for Buffalo. At
Schenectady, about twenty miles from Albany, we were detained two or
three hours, waiting for the passenger train to pass us. The fare by the
immigrant train was considerably less but we soon discovered that it was
a slow and tedious experience of travel, it being very slow. It was
nearly night when we left Schenectady and proceeded slowly on our way.
The night was cold and stormy--disagreeable in the extreme.
Some five or six inches of snow fell during the night, and there being
no fires in the cars, or no place to lie down and nothing to eat, it was
a very long, tedious night.
The night passed slowly away, and we arrived safely at Rochester at
about 10 o’clock on the 19th; when, after refreshing ourselves with a
good dinner, we crossed the Genesee River and took a view of the falls
bearing the same name.
Near the middle of the channel is a high projecting point of rocks,
where the celebrated Sam Patch is said to have taken his last jump in
presence of a large multitude of spectators; and it was said that he was
never afterward seen. His motto was: “Some things may be done as well as
others.”
Rochester has very excellent water power, and can boast of some of the
best flouring mills in the world.
Left Rochester at one o’clock, by the express train, for Buffalo, at
which place we arrived at five o’clock P.M., and put up at Bennett’s
Temperance Hotel, where we found a very fine hotel and good
accommodations.
FRIDAY, APRIL 20.
There being no steamers going west from Buffalo today, we were compelled
to await another day for a passage.
A railroad had been built and opened from Buffalo to Niagara Falls, a
distance of twenty-two miles. The larger number of the company took this
trip and went to the celebrated Falls, as a pleasant manner of passing
the few hours that we were compelled to wait. We left Buffalo at two
o’clock and rode twenty-two miles over a very rough and uneven railroad,
and arrived at the Falls at about three o’clock.
On my arrival at the cataract, I descended the lofty flight of stone
steps numbering 290--crossed the river in a yawl boat to the Canada
side--a short distance below the Falls; went under the sheet of water at
Table Rock, where I found a very damp atmosphere caused by the rising
spray--so very damp that I soon became completely saturated.
I then went to the Suspension Bridge about two miles below the Falls,
and there recrossed the river.
This bridge had been built the year previous, and was largely an
experiment. It was a foot bridge suspended by wire cables and stood 230
feet above the water. It was about eight feet wide.
It seems useless for me to attempt a description of Niagara Falls. To be
fully appreciated it must be seen. It is certainly one of Nature’s
wonderful curiosities.
SATURDAY, APRIL 21.
We left Buffalo at 11 o’clock, A.M., in the elegant, first-class steamer
Canada, for Detroit, Michigan, with pleasant weather and a smooth lake.
The weather continued fine until about five o’clock, when it commenced
raining, and the lake became somewhat rough.
SUNDAY, APRIL 22.
The weather today has been very fine.
At 7 o’clock we landed at Amherstbury, Canada, near the mouth of the
Detroit River; and at nine, landed at the wharf at Detroit.
Detroit is situated on the west bank of the river bearing the same name,
about twenty miles above Lake Erie. It rises gradually from the river
and is a very pleasantly situated city. In the forenoon I attended the
Congregational Church, where we heard an eloquent sermon by an able
divine.
In the afternoon I visited Windsor, Canada, situated on the east side of
Detroit River. This place contains an old Jesuit church said to be more
than one hundred and fifty years old, and built by early French
settlers.
In the evening a few of the Pelham boys visited Gen. Lewis W. Cass at
his elegant residence. We found Mr. Cass at home, to whom we introduced
ourselves. He was a native of New Hampshire, and formerly had his home
there. He received us with the greatest cordiality and respect, wishing
us the greatest success in our enterprise, and expressing a desire to
accompany us himself.
We remain aboard the Canada tonight.
MONDAY, APRIL 23.
We left Detroit at 7:30 this morning by the Michigan Central Railroad
for New Buffalo, a small village on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan,
near the line between the states of Michigan and Indiana. The country
bordering on this road is principally very heavily timbered with oak,
elm, hickory, ash, sycamore and other species. The houses are mostly
small “log cabins.”
The soil is fertile but somewhat low and moist, and is said to be well
adapted to the propagation of the “shakes.”
We arrived at New Buffalo at 7:30 in the evening, and we intended to
have taken the steamer for Chicago immediately, but the harbor being so
much exposed and the lake so very rough, it was impossible for the boat
to make a landing at the wharf with safety. Consequently, we were
compelled to await such time as the waters should become more calm. At
that time the railroad had not been constructed around the south side of
Lake Michigan into Chicago.
This was a newly constructed place and but a small village at that; and
as passengers usually embarked for Chicago almost immediately on their
arrival here, the people had made no preparation to accommodate people
over night. They had no accommodations to furnish lodgings or meals in
so large numbers, and we were unable to obtain either. We were obliged
to content ourselves in the cars during the night.
The night seemed long, cold and disagreeable, but at length it passed
away.
TUESDAY, APRIL 24.
The weather this morning was very cold and windy. The steamer from
Chicago landed at the wharf at about 9 o’clock this morning, but, owing
to the rough state of the lake, she had not lain at the wharf over two
or three minutes before she parted her large hawser, and immediately
left for Chicago, without her passengers.
At about ten o’clock in the evening, the lake having become
comparatively smooth, the steamer Detroit came in. We soon after got
aboard and were on our way for Chicago.
This was an old vessel and had a very ungentlemanly list of officers.
It was not until after a long parley with the steward and captain, that
we were successful in obtaining any refreshments. Immediately after
supper, I lay down and soon fell asleep, and, on awaking the next
morning, I found our boat moored at the wharf in Chicago. The past two
days had been our first really bitter experience. Much of the same as
bad or worse was in store for us.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 25.
Chicago at that time was a comparatively small city of about 25,000
inhabitants.
The Michigan and Illinois Canal from Lake Michigan at Chicago to the
Illinois River at La Salle, which had been under construction for twelve
years or more, had been finished the year previous, and was open for
traffic.
We left Chicago at ten o’clock in the morning on a packet by the above
mentioned canal for La Salle, a point situated at the head of navigation
on the Illinois River.
The weather was fine and we found this to be a delightful mode of
travel, but not very expeditious. The packet was drawn by mules or
horses traveling on the tow-path.
The passengers had a good view of the broad Illinois prairies, as they
passed leisurely through the country. A large percentage of those
prairies were then unbroken and were the native home of the prairie hen.
From Chicago westward the country is so nearly level that there are no
locks in the canal for twenty-five miles.
At night we had the pleasure of seeing a burning prairie for the first
time.
THURSDAY, APRIL 26.
Owing to a leakage in the canal the packet ran aground about two o’clock
this morning, where we were detained four hours--until six. We arrived
at La Salle about two o’clock in the afternoon.
The canal passes along down a valley one mile or more broad, with bluffs
on each side. This valley has the appearance of having been, at some
remote period of the past, the bed of a large river, and is thought by
many to have once been the outlet and drainage of the Great Lakes, whose
waters now form the great cataract of Niagara. I went out with my gun
about one mile west of the city, where I found prairie chickens to be
very numerous on the prairie. They are as large or larger than our New
England partridge, which they very much resemble.
We left La Salle at 9 o’clock in the evening by the steamer Princeton
for St. Louis, by way of the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers.
FRIDAY, APRIL 27.
The weather is fine today. The Illinois River is a stream about one-half
mile wide, with low, timbered bottom lands on each side, which at this
time are considerably inundated, the river being quite high.
The scenery along the river presents a very dreary appearance at this
time. It is neither beautiful nor grand. We saw a few wild turkeys along
near the shore, which to us was something new.
SATURDAY, APRIL 28.
At ten o’clock we entered the Mississippi River, and at eleven, passed
the junction of the Missouri with the Mississippi.
The river at this point is nearly two miles in width, and has a current
of about four miles an hour.
The upper Mississippi is a deep, clear stream, while the Missouri has
many shoals and sand bars, and whose waters are always muddy, so very
muddy that they color the Mississippi, from the junction to the Gulf of
Mexico.
At one o’clock we arrived at St. Louis.
This flourishing city is situated on the west bank of the Mississippi,
and, owing to its commanding position, will probably ever maintain a
leading position among the great cities of the West.
The streets, at this time, are quite muddy and filthy, but they are of
good width.
The population appears to be made up--as seems to us New Englanders--of
a heterogeneous collection of almost every nation and tongue.
Tonight we engage passage to Independence, Missouri, and go aboard the
steamer Bay State, which is to leave here tomorrow morning for St.
Joseph, Mo.
SUNDAY, APRIL 29.
We left St. Louis at ten o’clock and proceeded up the river. At twelve
we entered the turbid waters of the Missouri.
The Bay State is a good vessel, but is very much crowded with
Californians.
On her last voyage up the river she is said to have lost quite a large
number of her passengers by cholera, which at present is quite prevalent
on the western rivers.
At 4 o’clock we pass the beautiful city of St. Charles, situated on the
north bank of the river.
The bottom lands along the river are low and subject to overflow;
consequently the settlements in sight of the river are not very
numerous, a few log cabins being seen on the banks.
The channel of the river is very much obstructed by snags and sand bars
and is constantly changing, which renders the navigation of the Missouri
extremely difficult and dangerous.
MONDAY, APRIL 30.
We made about ninety miles during the day yesterday, but moved slowly
during the night.
Early this morning we passed the village of Hermon, noted for its
extensive wine distilleries. A little later we passed Portland, situated
on the north side of the river. At three we touched at Jefferson City,
situated on the right bank of the Missouri River, 160 miles from St.
Louis. This is the capital of Missouri, and is very pleasantly located
on a high bank.
TUESDAY, MAY 1.
At 12 o’clock we passed Glasgow; at 5, Brunswick; and at 7, Miami, all
of which are apparently pleasant and thriving little villages.
The banks of the river are much higher than they are lower down, and
consequently, we see more settlements.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 2.
We saw a few small villages on the banks of the river.
At six o’clock P.M. we passed Lexington City, some forty or fifty miles
below Independence, our destination.
THURSDAY, MAY 3.
At two o’clock this morning we arrived at Independence Landing, four
miles from Independence.
[Illustration:
From a Painting by Frank Holland.
THE OVERLAND TRAIL TO CALIFORNIA.
“Westward the course of Empire takes its way.”]
CHAPTER III.
THE OVERLAND TRAIL.
This is the place where we are to be initiated into the beauties of camp
life; and to fit out and start with our mule trains for California.
At 4 P.M. we had our tents pitched and, as we believed, were perfectly
well prepared for the first night in camp, and partaking of a little
supper--the first of our own cooking--we lay down, all seeming anxious
to try our new manner of living.
We rested very comfortably for a time, but at length it began to rain
quite rapidly, and we felt much pleased to find our tents so well
adapted to shed water and protect us from a heavy shower.
Our joy, however, was soon after turned to disgust and chagrin when we
felt the water between us and the ground, and on rising, we found our
under blankets thoroughly drenched with water. Many of us were
thoroughly wet to the skin.
This first mishap of the kind to happen must be attributed to our own
innocent ignorance, as our tents were set on a slight declivity, and the
necessity of trenching them on the upper sides to turn the water away,
did not occur to us. However, we learned this part of camp life in such
a manner as to never be forgotten.
It was learned in the same manner as we shall hereafter, probably, learn
many other new things before our journey is ended. A few of our party
begin to believe that they have already seen almost enough of camp life
to satisfy them.
The company held the monthly meeting today for the election of officers,
for the month ensuing, at which Joseph B. Gage was elected president,
his term of office to extend to June first. He seemed to feel very much
pleased with his new position.
The rain descended in torrents today.
In the afternoon, nine of us took our saddles, a tent and some
provisions and went about three miles in a southerly direction, where a
large number of our mules were herded, for the purpose of trying our
hand at breaking them.
These mules had been purchased by the agents of the two companies and
were being kept by Mr. Sloan. We set our tent at the place of herding
and made an ineffectual effort to kindle a fire; and after several like
attempts, we were compelled to give it up and do without a fire, and put
up with some raw ham and hard bread for our supper; after which we
retired for a second night’s lodging in the tent.
SATURDAY, MAY 5.
The rain ceased last night, and it was fair and pleasant this morning.
Five of our mules had broken out of their enclosure and gone astray.
Some two or three of our party went in search of them, but returned
tonight without success.
We tried our skill today at breaking mules, but having heretofore had
no experience or acquaintance with the long-eared animals, we found it
to be a more difficult task than we had supposed it to be, and
consequently did not make much progress.
They were young mules which had never been halter-broken, and were
almost as wild as the deer on the prairie. A wild, unbroken mule is the
most desperate animal that I have ever seen.
I will pass over the time intervening between now and May 26, or about
three weeks, with the mention of a few incidents that occurred during
our stay at Independence, and giving a slight description of the country
surrounding this place.
This being one of the principal fitting-out places for California, it
was crowded with immigrants from all parts of the United States.
Hundreds of ox-teams and mule-teams were leaving here daily for
California, besides many pack-trains, coaches and almost every kind of
team or vehicle.
The Asiatic cholera was raging among the immigrants to a large extent.
Many were daily falling victims to this dreaded scourge, while many
others were becoming disheartened and were turning back to their homes.
Everything here was bustle and wild confusion. Much of the weather was
rainy and disagreeable, with occasionally one of the most terrific
thunder showers that I ever witnessed.
We tried in vain to break our mules by putting large packs of sand on
their backs and leading them about, but it availed very little, as the
second trial was as bad as the first; and they were nearly as wild and
vicious when we started on our journey as they were when they were
first packed.
Several of our company were sick with the cholera, while a number of the
Mount Washington company died with the same dread disease. These adverse
circumstances detained us somewhat longer than we wished, and much
longer than it was for our interest to remain; but as it seemed
unavoidable, we were compelled to content ourselves as best we could.
But we were looking for better days. Joseph B. Gage continued to fill
the office of president.
The surrounding country is very beautiful with a rich, productive soil,
much of it being a high, rolling prairie.
Timber is somewhat scarce, but it is of a superior quality.
There are some small plantations, principally cultivated by colored
people, who in almost all cases appear to be well satisfied with their
condition in life.
On May 26th, we had moved out about twenty miles from Independence and
were prepared for a start. Independence is but a short distant from
where Kansas City now stands. (Distance to here, 20 miles.)
SATURDAY, MAY 26.
We commenced packing our mules early in the morning, but owing to their
wild and unbroken state, and being unacquainted with packing, we were
not prepared to start until five o’clock in the evening, when we left
our old camp-ground and travelled three miles and again camped.
(Distance, 3 miles.)
This appeared like a very tedious way to get to California, a distance
of more than 2,000 miles.
SUNDAY, MAY 27.
We commenced packing again this morning and were prepared to start at
about noon. This is quite an improvement in point of time over
yesterday.
It took as many men to pack a mule as could stand around it, and we were
obliged to choke many of them, before we could get the saddle upon their
backs.
They would kick, bite and strike with their fore feet, making it very
dangerous to go about them. Several of our company were quite badly
disabled by working with them, so that they were unable to assist in
packing.
We started about noon and traveled about eight miles, over a high,
rolling prairie, and camped. Today we crossed the western boundary of
Missouri and entered the Indian Territory. (Distance, 8 miles.)
MONDAY, MAY 28.
This morning we started at 9 o’clock and traveled eighteen miles over a
rolling prairie country, and camped near a small Indian village. Very
little timber of any kind is found in this section, but we find plenty
of grass and water.
The soil is deep and of first-rate quality; and at no distant day this
must become one of the richest and most productive agricultural sections
of the country. (Distance, 18 miles.)
TUESDAY, MAY 29.
Leave camp at 10 o’clock and travel twelve miles across a prairie and
camp in a very pleasant place, where we find plenty of good grass and
water, and also a scanty supply of wood.
We saw about a dozen wild horses; but it was impossible to approach near
them. Very little game is seen near the road. (Distance, 12 miles.)
WEDNESDAY, MAY 30.
Owing to some of our horses and mules straying away last night and
taking the road toward Missouri, we remained encamped today. The horses,
mules and cattle belonging to the two companies number more than three
hundred. It was necessary to guard them nights, and each member was
obliged to take his turn on guard, regularly, a part of the night, once
in two or three nights.
The cattle that we were driving were designed to furnish us with our
principal dependence for provisions during our long journey. They were
mostly young cattle and not very large. When we were in need of some
provisions we would have one killed and dressed, and the meat was
divided among the different messes.
We were fortunate enough to recover our mules and horses before night.
I went across about three miles to an Indian village. They have very
comfortable log cabins, and were at work turning up the prairie with the
plow; and apparently some of them have very good farms, and appear to be
partially civilized, and seem to be in a fair way to give up their
former nomadic way of life in exchange for civilization, and gain their
livelihood by tilling the soil, instead of pursuing the chase. This,
probably, is one of the most civilized tribes, and the great majority of
our wild Indians must be expected to cling to their ancient manners and
customs for many years in the future.
THURSDAY, MAY 31.
The weather is fair and pleasant.
Edward Moon, Esq., secretary of our company, being very much out of
health, turned back and left the company for Boston.
This is the second one of our company who has given up going to
California and returned to his home.
Many are turning back with their teams, having become discouraged in
anticipation of the long and tedious journey before them; large numbers
are dying daily of cholera and other fatal diseases.
Leave camp at one o’clock and travel about four miles, where we cross a
small river running south; and later, we cross a low, wet, swampy
prairie about one and one-half miles in width, after which we travel six
miles and camp.
Land today principally prairie, with some cottonwood timber along the
streams. Soil excellent. (Distance traveled, 12 miles.)
FRIDAY, JUNE 1.
A beautiful morning. We leave camp at 9 o’clock this morning and travel
about twenty miles, over a rolling prairie, without wood or water. Camp
in the afternoon about one-half miles west of the road.
We have lost four or five of our cattle, they having left the herd and
strayed away. The mules are now becoming very tame and docile, but many
of them have very sore backs.
Some of our mules are packed with more than two hundred pounds, which is
much too heavy for so young animals. (Distance today, 20 miles.)
SATURDAY, JUNE 2.
We delayed starting until 2 o’clock, for the reason that two of the
Mount Washington men that are traveling with us were taken with the
cholera during last night. We leave them with Dr. A. Haynes with
assistants and travel twelve miles and camp on the north bend of a small
stream, about fifteen miles from the Kansas River.
One of the cholera patients died at 5 o’clock this evening. The other
seems some better and appears to be in a fair way to recover.
SUNDAY, JUNE 3.
Fair and warm. Thermometer 86 degrees in the shade. The last of the two
cholera patients died this morning at 9 o’clock. They both died at the
camp where we left them, twelve miles east.
We remain here today where we find plenty of good wood, water and grass.
The men of both companies are now in good health.
The two men that died of the cholera were large, heavy, strong men in
good health, and were taking their turn at driving cattle on Friday.
They were stricken with cholera on Friday night. One of the men died
Saturday afternoon, and the other died Sunday morning at 9 o’clock. They
were buried on the wild prairie. There are hundreds of the immigrants
dying constantly--more or less every day.
MONDAY, JUNE 4.
Leave camp at 10 o’clock for the Kansas River. We cross two or three
small streams and pass some Indian settlements, and arrive at the Kaw
River ferry in season to cross our horses and mules and a part of our
baggage before night.
The ferry-boat is made from hewn planks framed together, bearing a very
strong resemblance to a raft.
The river is about 650 feet in width, with a rapid and muddy current.
This is one of the three or four streams that contribute to render the
waters of the Missouri so very muddy.
On the right bank of the river is situated a small Indian village, known
as Uniontown, which, together with the Indian population, contains a few
white men who have taken Indian women for their wives.
Two or three of the Mount Washington company are seriously attacked with
cholera, but they recovered during the night. (Distance, 15 miles.)
TUESDAY, JUNE 5.
It was quite late in the afternoon before we had succeeded in getting
all of our mules, horses, cattle and baggage over the river,
consequently we did not move our camp today.
The Pottawatomie tribe of Indians that inhabit this section of the
country is quite numerous and is in a partial state of civilization.
They are cultivating the soil to considerable extent and raise wheat,
corn and potatoes in moderate quantities. We purchased of them some
flour and two or three Indian ponies.
One or two of our company are talking some of leaving our company and
joining some other party, but they concluded to continue with us.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 6.
We leave camp at 12 o’clock and travel 18 miles. We passed a Catholic
mission erected for the purpose of Christianizing the Indian tribes and
converting them to the Catholic religion. Indian settlements are quite
numerous here. Rattlesnakes are seen in large numbers.
We camped in the evening, after which a very violent shower came up.
The wind blew so violently that all of our tents were leveled to the
earth over our heads, which was not very agreeable. However, we are
compelled to make the best of all such misfortunes, and are becoming
more accustomed to the endurance of hardships than at first. (Distance,
18 miles.)
THURSDAY, JUNE 7.
We start at 9 o’clock this morning and after traveling four miles, cross
the Little Vermillion River.
We halt for dinner at 10 o’clock, and camp at 6 o’clock. The country
through which we are traveling is very beautiful, it being a high,
rolling prairie covered with a fine growth of grass, and watered by
numerous cool springs of good water, with some small streams. (Distance,
16 miles.)
FRIDAY, JUNE 8.
Strike camp at 8 o’clock, travel until noon, when we unpack our mules
and remain until 2 o’clock. Camp at 6 in the evening.
The road is dry and hard and almost as good as a turnpike.
The ox-teams make as good time as our mule train. (Distance traveled, 20
miles.)
SATURDAY, JUNE 9.
Leave camp at 8:30, and soon after cross the Big Vermillion River, which
is a stream of considerable size, with a very rapid current.
Halt for dinner at noon and camp at night without wood. The water is
considerably impregnated with alkali, so very strong that it feels
slippery.
There is said to be much of this kind of water on the plains. It is
destructive to health and even life, both to man and animals. (Distance,
20 miles.)
SUNDAY, JUNE 10.
Break camp before breakfast and travel twelve miles, where we find an
abundance of wood and good water.
Some returning Californians dined with us today, having traveled about
150 miles beyond this point, when they became discouraged and began to
retrace their footsteps.
The prospects of reaching California certainly look somewhat
discouraging at the present time.
The great bulk of the immigration, which is very large, is in advance of
us. That very much dreaded scourge, the Asiatic cholera, is making such
sad havoc among the Californians that almost every camp-ground is
converted into a burial-ground, and at many places twelve or fifteen
graves may be seen in a row.
Almost every traveler that we meet, who has ever been west of the Rocky
Mountains, gives it as his opinion that there is not grass enough in
that region of country to sustain one-half of the stock that is now on
the California trail; and they are of the opinion that the present
immigration cannot reach California this season.
Much trouble is also anticipated by many from some of the western tribes
of Indians, who are said to be hostile to the whites. The Mormons who
settled near the California trail, in the Great Lake valley, in 1847,
are also much feared by a large number of those from Missouri.
All these circumstances and conditions combined are of sufficient weight
to frighten many and cause them to banish the bright, golden visions
which allured them from their homes, with the bright anticipations of
soon becoming wealthy.
The principal anxiety that seems to fill the minds of such at the
present time is to reach, as soon as possible, their former homes; and
consequently, while the great majority are moving west, a large number
are traveling east.
To meet so many who have been farther westward on the trail, and who
have turned backward, and are now seeking their former homes, has its
influence upon a large number that would otherwise proceed and causes
them to also reverse their course.
I have, myself, heard all these discouragements many times rehearsed,
and weighed the matter, and have found conclusions as follows:
I started for California anticipating that we should meet many
hardships, privations and dangers on our long journey, and, as yet, we
have experienced nothing of a nature any more severe than we had reason
to expect; and as for what we may find ahead of us we know but little
of. I am fully determined to proceed as far in the direction of
California as it is possible for me to go, and not to return until I
have seen the place I set out to reach.
It seems to be a very curious fact that the immigrants from the state of
Missouri--which by the way, were more numerous than from any other one
state--seem to suffer more from the cholera than almost all the other
immigration combined.
I know of no good reason why this should be so. They have had their
homes on the frontier and, consequently, have been subjected to more
exposure and hardships than any other class now on the California trail.
(Distance traveled, 12 miles.)
MONDAY, JUNE 11.
The first experience worthy of note this morning was a very heavy
shower. This lasted two hours and was accompanied with a most terrific
gale, which very soon levelled every tent in our camp, leaving us
nothing under which we could shelter ourselves. Consequently, we were
all most thoroughly drenched.
Start in the afternoon and travel fifteen miles over a smooth prairie,
and camp. (Distance, 15 miles.)
TUESDAY, JUNE 12.
Weather very fine. Leave camp at 9 o’clock, and travel eight miles and
camp until three, when we again move on nine miles farther, and camp for
the night. (Distance traveled, 17 miles.)
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 13.
A shower with a heavy wind occurred at about midnight.
Our tents withstood the gale, but the rain was driven through in such
large quantities as to drench us thoroughly.
At about 2 o’clock another shower occurred with a wind much stronger and
more severe than the first, which levelled all our tents to the ground,
notwithstanding the exertions of us all to keep them standing; and we
were again left without a shelter, and compelled to pass the balance of
the night as best we could--some standing in the open air with their
backs to the storm, while others were lying under their prostrate tents
with water all around them two or three inches deep.
These showers are accompanied with very violent electrical displays and
very heavy thunder. They are the most violent and terrifying of anything
of the kind I have ever witnessed.
About daylight we managed to get fires started, and before noon dried
ourselves and our camp equipage almost completely.
We started at noon and traveled eighteen miles. The land through which
we passed is apparently very fertile, but is almost destitute of timber
of any kind. Camp on a small stream of clear, pure water.
THURSDAY, JUNE 14.
Leave camp at seven in the morning and travel until eleven o’clock. We
take dinner on the bank of the Big Blue River--a fork of the Kansas. We
start again at two o’clock and camp at six on the Big Blue. (Distance,
25 miles.)
FRIDAY, JUNE 15.
Weather fair and cool. Travel up the Blue River today. This is a most
beautiful stream; has a rich and fertile soil, with considerable good
timber. (Distance, 25 miles.)
SATURDAY, JUNE 16.
Decamp at eight o’clock and travel ten miles to the point where the
trail leaves the Blue River. We dine here.
The road from this place to the Platte River is through prairie country
destitute of wood. We travel fifteen miles in the afternoon and camp on
the prairie, without wood, and with quite poor water.
SUNDAY, JUNE 17.
Travel twelve miles in the forenoon to the Platte, or Nebraska River. In
the afternoon we go up the river eight miles and camp near Fort Kearney,
at the head of Grand Island. This island is 52 miles in length and
appears to be well timbered.
The Platte is a large river, being from one to two miles wide, and has a
very rapid current. Its waters are so very muddy that after a bucketful
has settled, an inch of mud, or sediment will appear at the bottom. It
has a bed of sand which is constantly in motion. (Distance traveled, 20
miles.)
MONDAY, JUNE 18.
We remain here today.
The weather is fair and warm. Thermometer 86 degrees in the shade. Grass
is not very abundant.
We repair our pack-saddles and other equipage which has become
considerably out of repair. The backs and shoulders of many of our mules
have become very sore and in a serious condition, many of them having
lost large patches of skin, and the prospect, at present, seems to be
that few of them will survive to reach California the present season.
We have made an inspection of our packs today in
[Illustration:
From an Old Painting.
BAY OF SAN FRANCISCO.]
view of trying to make them lighter, if possible, but could discover
very little in them that the members were willing to discard.
We have, for one thing, a patent “filter,” the weight of which is about
30 pounds, which has been of no use to us, and the prospect now is that
it will never be of any benefit whatever. We have some iron spades that
probably will be of no benefit to any one.
We have also some large, heavy picks which we have brought all the way
from Boston, and also shovels. These may be useful in the mines, but it
does not seem to be feasible to pack them 2000 miles on the sore backs
of mules.
There are, however, such a large number in the company that are so
bitterly opposed to leaving any such article that they will defeat any
such measure proposed; and even call all such foolish who believe it
would be wise to lighten the loads of our poor mules in such a manner.
TUESDAY, JUNE 19.
Weather fair and very windy.
Remain here today. I visit Fort Kearney, which is about one and one-half
miles distant from our camp.
The fort and other buildings are constructed of adobe, or sun-burned
bricks, with one exception. The fort was established about two years
since.
A large number of immigrants are encamped about the fort, at this time,
and also a company of United States cavalry. It is said at Fort Kearney
that the wagons passed here already this season, en route for
California, number 5,400, and also three pack trains. This point is
about 350 miles from Independence, Mo.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 20.
We packed in the afternoon and after traveling four miles, we
encountered a very fierce shower, which thoroughly drenched every one of
us. A little later another shower was encountered, which was much more
severe than the first, and which was accompanied with some hail and a
terrific wind.
Camp at the first good camping place after the showers. Blankets and all
clothes thoroughly wet and no opportunity for drying them. It is
certainly uncomfortable lodgings.
Since leaving Independence, until the last two or three days, my health
has not been very good. (Distance, 10 miles.)
THURSDAY, JUNE 21.
Travel nine miles in the forenoon and six in the afternoon. Our course
is up the Platte River, the valley of which is nearly level and is
several miles wide on either side. We camp tonight where there is no
wood on the mainland, and we waded a branch of the river about twenty
rods to an island to procure it. The water is not deep, but the current
is quite rapid. There are numerous islands in the river.
FRIDAY, JUNE 22.
Travel 12 miles in the forenoon, halt two hours and dine. Travel eight
miles in the afternoon and camp. All in good health.
SATURDAY, JUNE 23.
Travel up the River Platte today 20 miles, and camp without wood, but
find plenty of “Buffalo chips,” which, if dry, are a very good
substitute for fuel.
SUNDAY, JUNE 24.
Weather fair and warm. Thermometer stands at 95 degrees, at noon, in the
shade.
I traveled south, back from the river, about four miles to the bluffs,
today. Owing to the very clear, transparent atmosphere, no one who was
not acquainted with it could believe the distance was more than one mile
at most. I did not believe it when I left camp, after having been told
by those who had traveled the distance and back.
These bluffs are a succession of sand hills, rising abruptly from the
level plain, along the Platte on both sides, and extend back from the
river a long distance.
Antelopes are very plentiful, but are not easily killed on the level
prairie. There is little timber or wood here. The soil is sandy, but
produces a very good grass.
MONDAY, JUNE 25.
Broke camp at 5 o’clock in the morning and traveled eight miles, where
we halted until two in the afternoon. Travel three and one-half hours in
the afternoon and camp on the bank of the river, where we found a good
supply of wood. Mosquitoes are more plentiful here than I have ever seen
before. I would judge there are more than forty bushels of these pests
to the acre, and they are of a very large breed. (Distance, 20 miles.)
TUESDAY, JUNE 26.
Started at 5 o’clock this morning. We had traveled about ten miles, when
the startling cry of “Buffalo ahead” was heard from those in advance.
This was the first buffalo herd seen by our company, and every one was
anxious to gratify his curiosity by a sight of a real live American
bison. On looking ahead about two miles, and not far from the immigrant
trail, a herd of about one hundred buffaloes could be seen, quietly
grazing.
A number of the company that could be spared from the train, immediately
left the train and gave chase to the herd. The buffaloes on seeing their
approach, immediately started toward the sand hills, and soon
disappeared from sight. The men who were in pursuit followed them, and
we soon after camped on the bank of the River Platte.
Soon after we had unpacked the mules, we saw four large buffaloes
emerging from the brush, not more than 100 rods distant from our camp.
Our horses were all unsaddled, and before we could catch and saddle
them, the large animals were a long distance from us.
One of our men, Mr. Hodgdon, soon came in and stated that he had shot
and killed a buffalo, about four miles distant from our camp, in the
sand hills. After dinner, a party of four or five with two extra mules,
went out to dress the slaughtered bison, and to bring the meat into our
camp; and the balance of the company packed up the camp and started.
During the afternoon, we killed a buffalo calf, four or five weeks old.
We ate buffalo meat for supper, cooked with “Buffalo chips.” The meat is
very coarse grained and of a dark color, and is very good, but in my
estimation, is much inferior to good beefsteak. They are said not to be
so good at this season of the year as they will be later, when they will
be more fleshy. (Distance, 18 miles.)
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 27.
We started at 8 o’clock and traveled four miles in the forenoon. In the
afternoon we go up the river to the South Platte.
I went up the river about three miles for some wood. Plenty of buffalo.
(Distance, 17 miles.)
THURSDAY, JUNE 28.
Fair weather. Packed in the morning and prepared to ford the south fork
of the Platte River.
The stream is about three-fourths of a mile in width and from one foot
to three feet deep. The current is rapid and water very muddy. From its
appearance, any one might suppose the stream was 20 feet deep.
I crossed and recrossed it on horseback three times. We had no very bad
luck in crossing. Some of our packs became wet and we unpacked on the
west side of the stream and dried them. We started at one o’clock and
traveled 12 miles in the afternoon and camped without wood, but found
plenty of good, dry “Buffalo chips.” (Distance, 13 miles.)
FRIDAY, JUNE 29.
Start at 6.30 o’clock and finding neither wood nor water, we traveled
seven hours, when we halt and make a search for water, and find a spring
about one mile from camp.
This was good fortune. (Distance, 20 miles.)
SATURDAY, JUNE 30.
Weather warm and dry. Travel ten miles in the forenoon and eight in the
afternoon. One of our company killed a buffalo this afternoon, and after
we had camped, Joseph B. Gage, with two or three others, with mules,
went back to bring in the meat; but before they had arrived at the place
where it was slain, they saw a band of Indians riding toward them, and
they became frightened and returned to camp with all possible speed.
The next morning, a party of Sioux Indians came into our camp, and
desired the doctor should give them some medicine, stating that their
camp was on the opposite side of the Platte, and that the smallpox was
raging among them.
They were perfectly friendly and said they had no intention of
frightening our men away from the buffalo meat, but that they wished to
talk with them and get some medicine; and also stated that they made all
the friendly signs that they could think of to have them stop. The
doctor supplied them with medicine and they left our camp. (Distance, 18
miles.)
SUNDAY, JULY 1.
We did not move camp today.
The land is not so level here as it is on the Lower Platte. Soil sandy;
wood scarce; weather fair and dry.
MONDAY, JULY 2.
We started in the morning and soon passed through Ash Hollow, so-called.
It derives its name from large quantities of red ash timber found here.
We dine at the foot of Castle Bluffs. These bluffs of sandstone rise
abruptly several hundred feet, and having been exposed to the weather
for many thousand years, have been transformed into shapes very much
resembling ancient castles, hence the name. Camp on the Platte.
The road today has been very sandy. (Distance, 23 miles.)
TUESDAY, JULY 3.
Break camp at half past six in the morning and travel four hours in the
forenoon and eleven miles in the afternoon. Found the road sandy. Camp
on the bank of the North Platte. (Distance, 25 miles.)
WEDNESDAY, JULY 4.
The Fourth of July will remind an American of his home wherever he may
be or however far he may be separated from it. Early in the morning we
fired several rounds, and made as much noise as possible in honor of the
day of Independence. We started in the morning and soon passed an
encampment where we had the pleasure of beholding the “Star Spangled
Banner” floating in the cool breeze. We traveled a few miles farther and
passed another camp with two large American flags waving above it.
We halted at noon within sight of Court House Rock. This rock is several
hundred feet in length and at a distance bears a strong resemblance to a
large building with a cupola. It is said to be about 12 miles from the
road, but to measure the distance with the eye, a person would judge it
to be not more than one mile distant. The name of J. J. Astor, with the
date 1798, is said to have been carved there, and that it may still be
seen. Mr. Astor was one of the American fur traders to cross the
continent.
We camp seven miles south of Chimney Rock. This rock rises about 255
feet and in form very much resembles a chimney. Standing as it does on a
level plain, it can be seen 25 or 30 miles away. Its material is
sandstone and may easily be worked or cut. (Distance, 20 miles.)
THURSDAY, JULY 5.
Weather pleasant. Traveled 18 miles up the Platte and camped. Grass is
quite scarce here.
FRIDAY, JULY 6.
We passed “Scott’s Bluffs” in the forenoon which present a very peculiar
appearance. We found plenty of wood at noon--the first we have had for
four days.
Camp at a fine spring, where we also find an abundance of fuel but a
scarcity of grass. In the afternoon we have a view of “Laramie Peak,”
distant more than 50 miles west. Camp at night on Horse Creek, where we
find good grass and water. (Distance, 25 miles.)
SATURDAY, JULY 7.
Traveled 20 miles, principally over a barren country, and camped.
SUNDAY, JULY 8.
Weather fair with a high wind.
Start in the morning and after traveling three hours we reach Laramie
River, which we ford with no other difficulty than to have some of our
packs considerably wet. This stream, although small, is very rapid and
has a gravelly bottom with clear water.
We soon after passed Fort Laramie and camp two miles above the fort on
Laramie River. By recrossing the river we have good grass for our
horses, mules and cattle. (Distance, 15 miles.)
MONDAY, JULY 9.
Remained here today.
Before leaving Boston we had light, strong trunks manufactured--two for
each pack mule--in which to pack our clothing, provisions, etc. They
were made as portable as was possible to insure sufficient strength. We
now, after packing them about 700 miles, get a vote of the company to
break them up and make bags from the leather coverings. This measure
some of us have believed to be a wise plan for a month past, but those
who first favored the plan were laughed at by the majority. We have
been packing thirty pounds of dead weight to each mule which can be
dispensed with. The first thought of packing these trunks--two to each
mule--to California, was a sad oversight by Captain Thing, who suggested
them.
TUESDAY, JULY 10.
Weather fair and warm; thermometer 98 degrees in the shade. Remained
here today. In the evening I went down to the fort. The outside wall is
built of adobe, or sun-burnt bricks, and encloses about one-half acre.
The buildings are within the enclosure. The fort was established several
years since by the American Fur Company for the purpose of trading with
the Indians, and was sold a short time since by that company to the
United States Government, and is now occupied by Colonel Sanderson with
a regiment of United States Cavalry. He is now engaged in building a
mill, house, barracks, etc.
WEDNESDAY, JULY 11.
We still remain here.
All the camp grounds near the fort are literally covered with wagon
irons, clothing, beans, bacon, pork and provisions of almost all kinds,
which have been left by the advance immigration to lighten their loads
and facilitate their speed.
THURSDAY, JULY 12.
Decamp at 9 o’clock and after traveling 21 miles, we camp on a small
stream. Grass poor.
FRIDAY, JULY 13.
Weather cool. Started at seven in the morning and after 13 miles’
travel, we found a most excellent spring at which we dined.
In the afternoon we cross a small stream and camp on the Platte, where
we find good grass. (Distance, 24 miles.)
SATURDAY, JULY 14.
Travel 13 miles in the forenoon and 12 in the afternoon and camped on a
small river. Grass scarce.
SUNDAY, JULY 15.
Weather fair and warm. Remain in camp today. We have found plenty of
wood since we left Laramie. The country through this part is hilly and
broken; soil barren and sterile. The health of the company is good. The
cholera followed the immigration to near Fort Laramie, making sad
ravages in very many companies; but it seems at last to have slackened
its hold and seems to have become extinct. For the last week we have
seen but few graves by the roadside.
Many were the men who left their homes for California last spring, with
bright prospects of reaping a golden harvest within a few months and
returning to their home and friends. But alas! their hopes were blasted,
and instead they have left their bones to bleach upon the great plains
of Nebraska, with not even a stone to mark their resting place. Many,
who one day have been in the enjoyment of perfect health, the next have
been in their graves.
MONDAY, JULY 16.
We started in the morning and in good season, and drove 17 miles before
dinner, and eight more in the afternoon. The land over which we have
traveled today is very barren and produces very little, excepting wild
sage weeds with a very little grass, which at this time is perfectly
dry.
TUESDAY, JULY 17.
Started in the morning and traveled eight miles to the lower ferry on
the North Platte, where we camped. Here we found a poor ferry boat in
which we carried our packs to the opposite side of the stream, and
caused all of our animals to swim over. We lost one mule by being
drowned, with which exception we were very fortunate. The stream at this
point is very rapid and deep. Travel 12 miles in the afternoon over a
barren, sandy country and camp on the Platte.
WEDNESDAY, JULY 18.
Travel 18 miles up the river and camp.
The land is poor and many of our mules are in poor condition; and some
of the weakest appear as if they would be unable to proceed a great
distance further.
Large quantities of bacon and other kinds of provisions have been left
by immigrants by the side of the road when teams became exhausted, and
may be seen in large heaps on almost every camp ground.
Farming and mining implements of all descriptions, mechanics’ tools, and
wagons, all go to make up the list of abandoned property.
THURSDAY, JULY 19.
Travel 12 miles and camp on the North Platte, two miles above the upper
ferry, at a point where the road leaves the river.
In the afternoon we have very fine sport catching a sort of white fish
from the river which are very plentiful at this place, and are a fine
fish.
FRIDAY, JULY 20.
We did not start today until noon.
The filter of which I have before spoken has been packed all these many
miles from Independence on the mule of George Carlton. He has spoken in
favor of leaving it several times, but the consent of some of the
company could not be had. What could be done? The poor mule was getting
weak and poor.
Mr. Carlton took the filter from the pack and put it into a thicket and
informed two or three whom he well knew were in favor of leaving it
behind, and said if we would “keep dark” he would let it remain there.
So the filter was left behind when we started.
In the afternoon we traveled 11 miles and camped at a spring.
SATURDAY, JULY 21.
Start in the morning and in ten miles’ travel come to some very strong
alkali water. Travel 5 miles farther and dine at a good spring.
Go 5 miles in the afternoon. Wild sage is the principal production
here.
SUNDAY, JULY 22.
Weather fine. Start in the morning and travel 20 miles. Camp on the
Sweetwater River, a branch of the Platte, one mile above Independence
Rock.
The country between the Platte and Sweetwater Rivers is very barren,
destitute of timber, with very little grass or other vegetation, except
wild sage. Much of the water is alkali, poisonous to cattle and horses
and is entirely unfit for use. When water has evaporated here, a
substance resembling saleratus may be gathered up in large quantities.
In some cases it may be found on the surface three or four inches in
thickness, white and pure as the finest pearlash manufactured; and on
trial we found it equally as good for the purpose of making bread. We
have seen large numbers of dead cattle by the roadside the past three
days.
MONDAY, JULY 23.
Remain encamped here today for the benefit of our tired mules.
We had a fine shower in the afternoon. A buffalo was killed by one of
our company yesterday which affords us plenty of meat.
TUESDAY, JULY 24.
The majority of our company is not ready to advance, consequently we
must remain here another day.
The excuse is made that it is necessary for the animals to recruit, but
the grass is poor, and I believe the animals will gain very little. A
short stop might be of some benefit, but to remain two or three days
where there is very little grass seems like wasting time to no good
purpose. The company is too large to travel in one body. Some are for
going ahead, while others are in favor of resting. A company of ten men
is quite large enough to travel expeditiously, but our company is so
situated that it cannot well be dissolved at present.
WEDNESDAY, JULY 25.
We break camp and travel up the Sweetwater River an hour, which brings
us to the Devil’s Gate. This is a fissure in the rock in the Sweetwater
River, thirty or forty feet wide, two or three hundred feet long, and
perhaps two hundred feet high, through which the river passes, and is
quite a natural curiosity.
Travel 20 miles and camp on the river.
THURSDAY, JULY 26.
Travel 10 miles in the forenoon and 10 in the afternoon, continuing up
the Sweetwater. There is a range of mountains of each side of the
valley. On the right they are composed almost entirely of barren rocks,
destitute of vegetation. On the left they have some soil and some
vegetation.
FRIDAY, JULY 27.
Start in the morning and after six miles’ travel the road leaves the
river and we travel 16 miles farther before we find either water or
grass, when we reach the river again.
We travel up the river two miles further and camp. Grass poor. The land
along the Sweetwater is very poor, with the exception of a little bottom
land. Today we had a view of the snow capped mountains--the Wind River
Mountains.
SATURDAY, JULY 28.
Travel up the river 8 miles, where we find good grass, which we have not
had the pleasure of seeing before for several days.
SUNDAY, JULY 29.
Weather fair and warm.
We remained encamped here today. I went out from camp a short distance
into a small piece of timber and on my return a young deer ran out
before me and I shot it with my pistol through the heart. This is the
first deer that has been killed by the company. Mr. Lyon also killed a
Mountain Sheep, or Bighorn.
MONDAY, JULY 30.
As we didn’t move our camp today some of us went deer hunting. Deer were
quite plentiful, and J. B. Gage killed one, which we dressed and carried
four miles to camp. I fired several shots with buckshot but did not
succeed in killing any game.
The country in this vicinity is broken and mountainous; soil is rocky,
sandy and not very productive.
[Illustration: THE GOLDEN GATE.]
TUESDAY, JULY 31.
Weather fine--warm days and cool nights. Break camp at a late hour and
leave the Sweetwater River, and in 16 miles’ travel we intersect it
again, where we unpack our mules and dine. Grouse are very plentiful in
this region. Remain two hours, after which we travel up the river six
miles and camp where we find good grass. The Sweetwater is a fork of the
Platte and derives its name from the peculiar taste of the water.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 1.
We are now near the summit of the Rocky Mountains, at an elevation of
about 7,000 feet above the Gulf of Mexico.
There was a heavy frost this morning.
Traveled up the river 11 miles in the forenoon. In the afternoon we
traveled up the river five miles farther and camped on a small branch of
the Sweetwater. We left the road today with the intention of taking a
straight course through the mountains to Fort Hall, thereby avoiding the
circuitous route by the way of Fort Bridges.
Captain Thing, our guide, states that he once traveled the route and in
his opinion we shall find good grass and water, and that there is an
Indian trail through which he thinks he can follow. The main road is now
several miles to the south of us. This is known as the South Pass of the
Rocky Mountains. Many suppose it to be a narrow, precipitous pass with
high mountains on either side; but it is directly the reverse, it being
almost a level plain, extending many miles to the north and to the
south; and were it not that the waters divide near this place, and a
portion flow to the Gulf of Mexico, and another portion to the Pacific
Ocean through the Colorado River and the Gulf of California, any one
would not believe that they were standing on the summit of the Rocky
Mountains.
The altitude of the South Pass is said to be 7,200 feet, as taken by
Col. J. C. Fremont about two years since.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 2.
The weather was so cold last night that water in our buckets was frozen
over this morning.
Traveled 13 miles over a sandy, barren country and intersect the Little
Sandy River, a small stream coursing south. After camping I went out and
shot a dozen grouse. Several others were out at the same time and killed
as many as I did.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 3.
Traveled 9 miles to the Big Sandy River and camped. Land poor and
somewhat broken; destitute of timber with the exception of small willows
near the streams.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 4.
Started this morning for Green River and traveled 30 miles over a barren
desert, destitute of both grass and water. The country is not very
broken, and we had no difficulty in traveling wherever we chose. We
intersected Green River at a point where grass was abundant and wood
plentiful. Mr. Hodgdon, a prominent man of our company, was taken sick
yesterday and was unable to travel this morning, consequently we left
him behind together with eight other men, and we shall remain here until
they arrive.
SUNDAY, AUGUST 5.
Remained in camp here today. Green River is a clear, rapid stream, ten
to fifteen rods wide and is fordable in many places. It is one of the
principal branches of the Colorado. Its waters are very cold, and its
source is said to be Fremont’s Peak, a snow-capped mountain a
considerable distance north, the altitude of which is about 13,000 feet.
MONDAY, AUGUST 6.
As we did not start today, some of us went deer hunting and killed one
buck. At 9 o’clock in the evening the men whom we left behind with Mr.
Hodgdon arrived safely, he having nearly recovered.
TUESDAY, AUGUST 7.
Two or three of our company were not in very good health today and
consequently we remained at the old camp ground.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 8.
Our mules are in much better condition than they were when we camped on
Green River. They had become so wild that it was with considerable
difficulty that we could catch them this morning.
Start this morning and travel down the river about one mile where we
ford it without difficulty. We then followed down the river two miles
farther to a branch that came from the west. We followed this branch up
15 miles and camped.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 9.
We left the stream this morning and commenced ascending a mountain. At
noon we ate our dinner at a very fine mountain spring.
In the afternoon we continued to ascend and passed through a heavy
growth of spruce timber. Our ascent was gradual until about 4 o’clock,
when we found ourselves at the top of a peak of the Rocky Mountains. To
the west and north the descent was steep--almost precipitous. We could
see the stream that we had left in the morning many hundreds of feet
below, but to reach it with our pack mules seemed almost an
impossibility. There were but two ways from which to choose--either to
descend to the stream, or retrace our steps. We were not long in
deciding, and we chose the first and concluded to try to descend. In
about two hours we reached the stream in a small pleasant valley. The
descent made by us was about 2,000 feet and probably about one and
one-half miles in length, the greater part being covered with a thick
growth of standing and fallen timber.
Captain Thing says he was never before at this place and is at a loss to
know what route to take to get out. (Distance, 15 miles.)
FRIDAY, AUGUST 10.
We started in the morning and followed the stream up seven miles to its
source. We then traveled one mile farther and halted, where we found
neither water nor grass.
Captain Thing, with two or three men, went ahead to endeavor to find a
passage through the mountains, which are heavily timbered and very rough
and broken. They returned before night and we went on two miles farther
through a dense growth of spruce, pine and fir and camped. Good grass
and excellent water. This is in a small valley. (Distance, 10 miles.)
SATURDAY, AUGUST 11.
Started in good season this morning and soon after crossed some small
mountainous streams, the headwaters of the Columbia. We traveled over
hills and through small valleys a few miles when we began to descend a
high mountain. The descent is very steep and we were an hour in making
it. We reached the valley at length, through which passed a small stream
with a southern course, which is probably a tributary of Bear River. We
followed the valley down five miles, where we halted an hour or two,
after which we packed and went down five miles farther, where we left
the valley and passed over a ridge in a westerly direction and entered
another small valley with a small stream.
We followed down this stream five miles and camped. We passed over
places today on the sides of mountains along Indian trails which were
about one foot wide, on both sides of which were steeps, almost
perpendicular, for hundreds of feet on the one side up and on the other
down; and in many places, should a horse or mule make a misstep, they
would be precipitated to the bottom. This is not only disagreeable and
perplexing traveling, but dangerous. The mountains are very rough and
broken and are principally heavily timbered. A great part of the timber
has been killed by fire. Where we halted at noon I found strawberries
plentiful and fine. The 11th of August seems late for that kind of
fruit.
We have passed over several snow banks within two or three days, and
sometimes found beautiful flowers in blossom within 20 feet of them.
(Distance, 20 miles.)
SUNDAY, AUGUST 12.
We had a dispute, or difference of opinion, this morning about starting.
Captain Thing wished to remain here today and look out a route for
tomorrow, and go straight through to Fort Hall. He thought we had come
too far north for the route he had taken eleven years previous, and said
that had caused our misfortune.
A part of the company desired to remain and follow the guide. The others
had lost all confidence in his knowledge as a guide in the Rocky
Mountain country, and wished to start today and follow the small stream
down to Bear River valley, where it was thought to flow.
A vote of the company was taken on the question and the latter party was
in the majority.
We started at 8 o’clock and travelled down the stream a distance of
about 22 miles, where we intersected Bear River valley near the mouth of
Smith’s Fork where the road crosses the same. We traveled three miles
farther and camped on Bear River.
Our road today was wellnigh impassable. We are once again on the
California trail after having wandered in the mountains for twelve days.
Many ox teams that were behind us when we left the road on the
Sweetwater River, are now many miles in advance of us. This route has
been christened “Thing’s Cutoff.” A majority of the company was in favor
of trying it, relying on Captain Thing’s knowledge of the country and
experience.
MONDAY, AUGUST 13.
Traveled ten miles down the river, crossed Thomas’ Fork and camped.
Bear River valley is very beautiful and possesses a fertile soil, but
the altitude is high. The nights are probably frosty.
Bear River discharges its waters into Great Salt Lake at its northern
extremity. The River Jordan also discharges its Salt Lake at its south
side, and yet the lake has no visible outlet. (Distance, 10 miles.)
TUESDAY, AUGUST 14.
In the forenoon we passed over a high spur of the mountains and
intersected the river again near Peg Leg Smith’s, an old one-legged
trader who has lived here among the Indians fourteen years. He has a
small log cabin and one or two other small buildings.
We saw an old Mormon here who tried hard to induce us to go by the way
of Salt Lake City. He said it would be no farther than to follow the
California trail, and offered us his services as a pilot. A majority of
the company were at first in favor of adopting that plan, but on
referring the matter to Peg Leg Smith, who is perfectly well acquainted
with both routes, we learned that the old Mormon was lying and that the
distance by way of the Mormon city would be at least 150 miles greater.
Smith has a squaw wife, and trades with the Indians and immigrants.
We left the Mormon and traveled six miles and camped. (Distance, 18
miles.)
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 15.
Traveled 20 miles down Bear River and camped. The weather is fine.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 16.
Started in the morning and after 13 miles of travel reached the Soda
Springs. From the journals of Col. John C. Fremont, Bryant and others,
anyone would suppose that the waters of these springs were a delicious
beverage to the weary traveler, and I had been led to anticipate having
a fine draught of soda from nature’s own fountains, pure and
unadulterated. I came up to one of the springs where several members of
the company were drinking from a tin cup. Feeling somewhat thirsty I did
not wait my turn for the cup, but lay down to drink from the spring. I
drank one or two swallows when I arose, perfectly satisfied with soda
water. I very much disliked its taste. Of all the bad water I have been
obliged to drink on the plains it is the worst of all.
There are several of these springs in this vicinity, but the most
interesting of all is near the bank of Bear River, and is known as the
Steamboat Spring. It issues from a hole in a rock, a foot or more in
diameter, and at one moment the water will boil up a foot or two above
the surface of the rock and at the next it will settle down so that no
water will be visible. Thus it continues to ebb and flow, and has ever
since first discovered by white men, it is said.
The chemical qualities I will not undertake to explain. Some of the
company seemed to like the taste of the soda water, but I noticed they
did not drink very heartily from it. Three miles from the Soda Springs
we came to a fork in the road--one branch leading to Fort Hall, it being
the old Oregon Trail of about 1843. The other is a new trail called the
“Immigrants’ Cutoff,” which is said to be 20 or 30 miles shorter.
By a majority vote of the company we concluded to take the cutoff. We
soon after passed near an extinct crater, which at some time in the
past, had vomited forth its molten lava and covered the plains over
which we passed.
Traveled until about 9 o’clock and camped on a small stream. (Distance,
28 miles.)
FRIDAY, AUGUST 17.
We started late in the morning and traveled eight miles in the forenoon
and ten in the afternoon and camped where we found good grass and good
water, which are the two principal requisites to a good camp ground.
(Distance, 18 miles.)
SATURDAY, AUGUST 18.
Traveled ten miles in the forenoon and 12 in the afternoon, and camped
at a fine spring. Springs are plentiful on this road and grass is good.
SUNDAY, AUGUST 19.
Remained encamped today. Water was frozen over to the thickness of a
quarter of an inch last night. Summer berries are very plentiful along
the route. They much resemble the sugar plum of New England, but are
nearly as large as a good sized cherry. We have found the road very
hilly for the last two or three days.
MONDAY, AUGUST 20.
Started at 8 o’clock in the morning and traveled eight and one-half
hours before we found water. Camped at a fine spring. (Distance, 25
miles.)
TUESDAY, AUGUST 21.
Traveled 11 miles in the forenoon and five in the afternoon. Camped at a
spring at the south of the road.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 22.
Decamped and nine miles of travel brought us to a small stream, after
which we cross a barren plain, 12 miles broad, destitute of wood, water
and grass.
After we had crossed the desert plain we found a small stream of clear,
cool water at which we halted two hours and became refreshed. We
traveled six miles to Raft River and camped. Here we intersected the old
trail from Fort Hall to California. The trail through the Cutoff--a
distance of about 120 miles--is good with the exception of being
considerably uneven.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 23.
Started at 1 o’clock P.M. and traveled up the stream 11 miles and
camped. Road very dry and extremely dusty. Raft River is a tributary of
Snake River, which is one of the principal forks of the Columbia.
Finding good grass three or four feet high in this valley, and our stock
being in poor condition for traveling, we concluded to remain here until
Monday morning. A few of our mules and horses have been left behind,
they having become completely worn out or exhausted.
MONDAY, AUGUST 27.
Decamped at an early hour and 11 miles of travel brought us to a small
stream where we dined. Eight miles further we intersected the Mormon
road, leading from Salt Lake City to California. Camped at a spring six
miles farther on.
Calvin S. Fifield and Dr. Haynes left the company this morning and went
on in advance, with the intention of buying their provisions of the
immigrants and of camping with them, and of arriving in California in
advance of the body of the company, and making necessary arrangements
for its reception.
TUESDAY, AUGUST 28.
Traveled 11 miles in the forenoon over a hilly and broken country, when
we came to Goose Creek in latitude 41° 45´ agreeable to an observation
taken by the quadrant.
Traveled up the stream 10 miles in the afternoon. Road level and dusty.
Good water and poor grass.
It is thought by many that the Mormons of Salt Lake City have discovered
rich gold mines on this stream, and that they are now privately working
them and are doing well. How far the statement deserves credit is not
known, but I have seen no good reason to believe it.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 29.
We started at seven in the morning and traveled 12 miles in the
forenoon, when we halted for dinner; after which we traveled 15 miles
before finding water. We camped at a spring where grass was not very
plentiful.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 30.
Very cold morning. Ice formed one-half inch in thickness. We traveled 12
miles in the forenoon over a barren desert and nooned in a small valley,
where we found a small quantity of poor water.
Traveled up the valley eight miles in the afternoon and camped at a
spring. Grass good.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 31.
Started at seven in the morning and traveled up the valley eight miles,
where we intersected a small stream where we halted for dinner, after
which we traveled two miles and came to a warm spring, the water of
which is so hot that the hand cannot be held in it for a moment with
comfort. Traveled eight miles farther up the valley, thence over a high
mountain ridge and camped at a spring.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1.
In the forenoon we traveled over a barren plain, ten miles in extent,
when we found a spring. Traveled seven miles in the afternoon and
intersected a tributary of Mary’s River, or Humboldt River, and camped.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 2.
We did not move our camp today. Grass good. All in good health.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 3.
Traveled down the Humboldt valley 11 miles in the forenoon and dined on
the river, which at this point is a small stream of clear water.
The valley is broad with a fertile soil which produces a good quality of
grass. At this time it is parched with drouth. We traveled down the
valley 12 miles over a level road, and camped where we found plenty of
grass, four or five feet high, very thick and of fine quality. The land
in this vicinity is fertile, but is entirely destitute of timber, with
the exception of some small willows near the streams. The Mormon whom we
met on Bear River told us that the grass on Mary’s River had been
entirely consumed by fire which had been set by the Digger tribe of
Indians for the purpose of preventing the immigrants from passing
through to California, and that in his opinion it was an impossibility
to travel over that portion of the route with teams of horses or cattle.
And further, that authentic reports had reached Salt Lake City that men,
women and children were traveling barefooted and destitute of
provisions, and that many were dying daily of starvation and exposure.
However, his very pitiful tale was not credited to any great extent by
our company. His motive, probably, was to induce us to go by the way of
the Mormon settlement and sell them a portion of our stock at whatever
price they might feel willing to pay. Captain Thing sold him a cow, much
against the will of a majority of the company.
They have agents along the road to decoy immigrants through their
settlements and then make as much out of them as possible. (Traveled 23
miles.)
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4.
Started in good season this morning and in seven miles of travel we
crossed a fork of Mary’s River--coming from the north--after which we
traveled 16 miles and camped on the river, where we found good grass.
We passed over some sand hills today where the road was extremely dusty.
After traveling a few miles over this dusty road on a warm day a white
man will be equally as black as a negro. The dust here is different
from anything of the kind that I have ever before seen. It bears a
strong resemblance to ashes in some respects, both in appearance and
smell, and seems to contain quite a large percentage of alkali.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5.
We started this morning at sunrise and passed down the Humboldt a few
miles, where we met a large train of Mormon teams, 53 days from Sutter’s
Fort in the Sacramento River valley, on their way to Salt Lake City.
They report the miners in California as doing well, and some of them
stated that they had as much gold as they wished for.
Traveled 15 miles in the forenoon and 10 in the afternoon and camped on
the river, where we found but little grass.
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 6.
Started in the morning and went down the river three miles, when we left
the same and commenced ascending a mountain, and traveled 18 miles
through a mountainous country and over a rough road before we again
intersected the river. We then traveled down the river a mile and
camped. Grass poor.
Our stock is again in poor condition for traveling, and we have yet a
long road before us before we reach the Sacramento valley. Our cattle,
which are our principal dependence for our food, are almost destitute of
fat or suet, and are composed chiefly of hide, horns, cords and gristle
and lean, flabby meat. It is not very nutritious living. Our appetites
are wonderfully good. We have sometimes boiled the hide when we had
plenty of time.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 7.
Decamped at sunrise this morning and traveled 11 miles in the forenoon
over a very poor and barren country.
In the afternoon we met a train of United States Government teams from
Oregon, under the command of Gen. Joel Palmer. This train left Oregon
early in the spring, and came by the way of California, where it is
thought it remained a long time. It was sent from Oregon with provisions
for the benefit of the United States soldiers who are on their way
thither to assist the Oregonians in repelling the barbarous attacks of
the Indians upon their settlements, it is said, and General Palmer
expects to meet the command near Fort Hall.
General Palmer reports having had a serious battle with the Digger
Indians at Mud Lake, where he lost one man killed and had two or three
wounded.
Traveled 10 miles in the afternoon and camped on the river, where we
found good grass.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8.
Traveled down the river 10 miles in the morning, when we left it and
pursued a straight course over a barren plain on which nothing grows
except wild sage and greasewood.
After traveling four miles across the desert we again intersected the
river and camped. Some of our company
[Illustration: SAN FRANCISCO. 1849.]
who followed the trail are in advance of the train, and will probably
camp with some other train.
The days are very warm but the nights are cool and pleasant.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 9.
Finding a good supply of grass at this camp ground we did not move our
camp today.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 10.
Broke camp at six o’clock this morning and traveled down the river 12
miles in the forenoon and 13 in the afternoon and camped. Grass poor.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11.
Decamped at 5.30 o’clock this morning and traveled 11 miles in the
forenoon and 12 in the afternoon. The road down this river is
comfortably good, but is very dry and dusty. The weather has been
extremely warm today.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12.
Traveled ten miles in the forenoon and nine in the afternoon and camped
on the river. A slight shower of rain fell during the night.
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 13.
Traveled 16 miles in the forenoon and eight more in the afternoon and
camped on the river, where we found a limited quantity of grass.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 14.
Traveled 12 miles in the forenoon and halted where grass was not very
plentiful. In the afternoon we traveled five miles farther, when we came
to another fork in the road.
The left hand road is the old trail and leads down the river to the
“Sink,” as it is called, it being where the water of the river
disappears in the sandy desert, as is the case with a majority of the
streams of the “Great Interior Basin.”
From the “Sink” the road passes thence over a desert plain to Salmon
Trout River, and thence across the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the
Sacramento valley. The distance from this place to the Sacramento
valley, according to the best information in our possession, is about
300 miles.
The other, or right hand road, is called the Cherokee Cutoff, and the
distance is said to be but 180 miles from this place to the Feather
River gold mines.
CHAPTER IV.
THE HUMBOLDT RIVER TRAIL
The question arose, which of the two roads shall we pursue--follow the
old road--the advantages and disadvantages of which we are pretty well
informed; or shall we risk the new one of which we know nothing, except
from unreliable reports.
The question was submitted to a vote of the company, and it was in favor
of trying the “Cutoff,” as it is called, with scarcely a dissenting
vote. Haynes and Fifield, who left the company at Raft River, left a
posted notice here, which showed them to be several days in advance of
us. They chose the old trail, and cautioned us against taking the new
one, as it was their opinion that it was a longer and a poorer road.
The “Cutoff” leaves the Humboldt River at a bend, where it curves more
southerly, and at what in later times was called “Wannamucca” on the
Central Pacific Railroad. The “Cutoff” leaves the river and crosses a
desert plain, very barren and slightly undulating, in a westerly
direction.
We left the Humboldt with the expectation of being at the gold mines in
about a week, providing the reports were reliable as to the distance. We
traveled 14 miles after leaving the river before we found water. At that
place we found a spring, but there being several trains camped here
tonight, it was with great difficulty that we could procure water
sufficient for the needs of our mules and horses.
There is not a spear of grass to be found in this section, and we were
compelled to tie our mules to sage brush to keep them from straying
away, without a particle of food. (Distance, 31 miles.)
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15.
We started this morning at 5.30 o’clock and traveled 19 miles across a
barren, undulating desert, when we came to a place known as the Rabbit
Wells, where four or five wells, some 8 or 10 feet deep, have been
excavated by the immigrants in advance for the purpose of obtaining
water for themselves and their stock.
These wells, with one or two exceptions, were filled with dead animals.
Having seen the water at the bottom and being so eager to obtain it,
they rushed head first into them, where they perished and could not well
be extricated. The water of these wells is of a poor quality and proved
to be scarce.
After traveling six or seven hours over a very dusty road on a hot day,
it is far better than none. There was a large number of immigrants at
the wells and it was difficult to obtain a sufficient quantity of water,
it being dipped up with tin cups as fast as it ran into the wells. We
remained there one hour and a half and obtained what water we were able
to, but could get very little for our animals. Neither was there
anything for them to eat.
As we had no beef killed we had nothing for dinner. Beef had been our
principal dependence for some time past. It had become very poor and we
had almost nothing to cook it with. There are no “Buffalo chips” this
side of the Rockies.
We started in the afternoon and at about sunset came in sight of Black
Rock (Spring), which was then about nine miles distant across a level,
barren plain.
When within about six miles of Black Rock one of the mules which I was
driving became so exhausted that he refused to go any farther, and I was
obliged to unpack and leave him with the pack by the roadside; after
which I reached Black Rock at about eleven o’clock at night.
The company, with a few exceptions, had arrived in advance of me and
were principally asleep. I traveled the whole distance (40 miles) on
foot, and drove two mules and one horse, which made considerable extra
travel. I had no dinner or supper, and after arriving at Black Rock,
rolled myself in my blankets and was soon asleep.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 16.
The country over which we made forty miles yesterday is known as the
Black Rock Desert, and the road is literally strewn with dead
animals--cattle, horses and mules. The stench of these dead and decaying
carcasses contributes largely to render the traveling still more
disagreeable than it would otherwise be.
The Black Rock Spring, so-called, is a spring several feet in diameter,
out of which the water is continually boiling at or near a boiling
point. The water may be drank after being cooled sufficiently, but is
not very good water.
We started early this morning and traveled three miles where we found a
small quantity of grass and camped. This is the first grass that our
animals have found to eat since Friday noon--nearly 45 hours--since
which time we have traveled over 60 miles. After we had camped we had a
beef animal slaughtered, and a little before noon we managed to get a
breakfast, which was the first that some of us had eaten since Friday
night.
There are several hot springs in this vicinity. Beef will cook quite
quickly in them.
Some of our mules and cattle were left behind on the road yesterday,
with a few packs by the roadside.
George Carlton, with two or three others of the company, went back to
procure the packs, together with as many of the animals as were able to
be brought into camp. They succeeded in bringing into camp the whole
number that had been left by our company. (Distance, 3 miles.)
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 17.
Started in the afternoon and traveled eleven miles where we found some
grass and camped.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18.
We remained here until afternoon, when we broke camp and traveled 15
miles to Mud Lake, where we stopped for the night. Our course since
leaving Humboldt has been nearly northwest and we have traveled upward
of 80 miles.
The country is nearly all a barren desert, with very little vegetation
except wild sage. What is known as Mud Lake resembles at this time a
marsh more than a lake, and is covered with large coarse grass. It may,
perhaps, be more of a lake at some seasons of the year. (Distance, 15
miles.)
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 19.
We did not move our camp today.
This is the point where General Palmer’s corps had a battle with the
Indians a few weeks since, but we have not seen an Indian since we left
the Humboldt River.
A large percentage of the immigration took this route and have passed
this point, but it is thought now that the report stating that it did
not exceed 180 miles from the Humboldt to Feather River mines, was very
unreliable and untruthful.
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 20.
We started in the morning and soon after entered a canyon and traveled
12 miles in the forenoon and halted where the rocky bluffs rise nearly
300 feet almost perpendicularly on either side.
Traveled up the canyon nine miles in the afternoon and camped at a
spring. Canyon I believe to be a Spanish word and means a deep gorge,
ravine, or gulch between high, steep banks, worn by water courses.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 21.
Cold morning. Started at 7 o’clock in the morning and traveled up the
canyon 12 miles in the forenoon over a very rough road. In the
afternoon we traveled 7 miles and camped at a spring.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22.
Started early in the morning and went over a ridge a distance of 7
miles, thence over a plain 10 miles and camped.
We had a distant view of the Sierra Nevada Mountains today.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 23.
Traveled 5 miles today and camped at a spring.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 24.
Decamped early in the morning and after traveling 10 miles, passed
several hot springs. Went 9 miles farther and found good grass and
water, where we halted two hours, after which we traveled 3 miles and
camped at the base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in some large timber,
it being the first large trees we have met with since coming into the
Great Interior Basin, a distance of about 700 miles. With the exception
of a few small valleys along the streams and lakes and at the base of
the mountains, the Great Basin seems to be a very barren country. It is
a very disagreeable country to travel over.
TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25.
We started this morning and traveled northerly along the base of the
Sierras about six miles. We then began to ascend toward the summit of
the ridge, and after traveling three miles up a very steep ascent we
reached the summit.
This seems to be the “Divide” between the waters of the Great Basin and
those of the Pacific Ocean. After reaching the summit we soon began to
descend and after a descent of one mile entered a beautiful valley. In
the afternoon we traveled 10 miles through a heavy growth of yellow pine
timber and camped.
It was after dark before we camped and we unpacked our mules at the top
of a steep bluff overlooking a lake, known as Goose Lake. No water near
our camp ground. The company is scattered tonight, having camped in
several different places along the trail.
After we had camped Mr. Carlton and myself volunteered to go to the lake
for water, and with buckets we started down the steep, rocky bluff which
we found difficult of descent, especially in the dark. The distance was
about one-half mile to the base, or shore of the lake, where we
anticipated finding an abundant supply of water. But to our great
disappointment, we found nothing but a field of dry sand.
However, we supposed we must be very near the shore of the lake, and
started in that direction. We traveled about two miles farther over the
dry sand, indulging the fond hope of soon reaching the waters of the
lake, when we would have the privilege and pleasure of quenching our
thirst, which was almost unbearable.
But we were doomed to disappointment as we found nothing but a lake of
sand--dry and difficult to travel over; and we returned--climbed the
mountain and lay down to rest as best we could. To be really thirsty,
with no means of getting water, is truly a horrid sensation. (Distance,
20 miles.)
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 26.
We left camp early in the morning and eventually reached an abundant
supply of water.
We left the Oregon trail, which bears northerly along the west end of
Goose Lake, our course being nearly south. Our camp last night was near
the line separating the Territories of California and Oregon. We
traveled down a valley and camped on a small mountain stream. Road good.
(Distance, 17 miles.)
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 27.
After traveling a short distance this morning we came to the head of
Pitt River.
Traveled down the valley 12 miles in the forenoon and 9 in the afternoon
and camped on the river, which is a rapid stream nearly as large as the
Humboldt.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 28.
Traveled down the river 23 miles and found an excellent road and a good
supply of grass.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 29.
Traveled 20 miles over a rough road and camped on Pitt River. Grass
good.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 30.
We did not move our camp today. Latitude 40° 7´.
The valley along this river has a fertile soil and produces a good
quality and a sufficient quantity of grass, but is bordered on both
sides by lofty mountains, timbered with pine, fir and spruce. The
Indians are said to be very hostile, but we have not met with any since
crossing the mountains. They are said to have killed several immigrants
within a short time.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 1.
We left camp at an early hour and traveled down the river 14 miles in
the forenoon and 8 in the afternoon. We found a good road and grass
plentiful.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 2.
We broke camp at 7 in the morning and soon after left the river and went
over a rough, hilly road 12 miles, where we stopped near a small stream
and had our lunch. In the afternoon we traveled 7 miles and camped at a
spring.
The road was uneven and through a heavy growth of timber. We met with
some oak timber on the road today, it being the first we have seen since
near the Missouri line.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 3.
Started early and first traveled up a long hill, or mountain about 6
miles, and thence 5 miles farther, and finding no water we halted. In
the afternoon we traveled 11 miles, where we found good water and
camped. The country through which we have traveled today is well
timbered.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 4.
Broke camp at 7 o’clock in the morning and traveled 15 miles in the
forenoon and halted at Little Goose Lake. We traveled 4 miles in the
afternoon, when we found a bountiful supply of good grass and water and
camped.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5.
We traveled 14 miles and camped at Feather Lake, it being the source of
the north fork of Feather River country appears to be nearly all very
heavily timbered.
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6.
We traveled 6 miles through a dense forest and reached a branch of
Feather River; then traveled down the river 6 miles, where we came into
a large meadow; thence down along the meadow 5 miles and camped. A
branch of Feather River passes through this meadow and it is known as
the Feather River Meadow.
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 7.
Traveled down the river 2 miles and camped.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 8.
It was thought by many of the company that it might be practical to
follow the river down to the Feather River mines, and thus save much
time and travel in avoiding the long, circuitous route by the way of the
Sacramento valley and Lassen’s Ranch, and consequently, six of us
started in the morning with about two days’ rations, pursued a
southerly course through the mountains and in six miles of travel came
to a small stream. We then crossed a mountain ridge about 9 miles and
came into a fine bottom prairie 8 miles in length with a small stream
passing through the center. We went down the valley three miles, built a
fire by the side of a large pine log, and ate our supper. The meal
finished we laid ourselves down for the night--Indian fashion--keeping
one at a time of the party on watch during the night to give the alarm
should any Indians make their appearance. We discovered fresh Indian
signs in the little valley today.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9.
The morning was cool and very foggy. We started as soon as it was fairly
light, and went on down the little valley to the southern end, where the
stream enters a deep, high canyon with high precipitous mountains on
both sides. We traveled down the canyon about one mile farther and found
the mountains so extremely rough, we became convinced that it would be
an impossibility to travel through them with mules and horses. We gave
up the expedition and started for camp, where we arrived about one
o’clock very much fatigued.
We did not move our camp today.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 10.
Traveled 10 miles in the forenoon and 8 miles in the afternoon and
camped on Deer Creek.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11.
A part of the night was rainy, which was not very agreeable, as we have
not had our tents set for a long time, or since we left Raft River. We
traveled 10 miles in the forenoon and halted at a spring where there was
no grass. In the afternoon we went on 8 miles farther and camped at a
spring. No grass.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 12.
We started at one o’clock at night and traveled over a rough road
through a dense forest 10 miles and halted, where we found water
one-half mile north of the road--down a steep mountain--but no grass.
Started again at 8 o’clock and after traveling six miles we emerged from
the dense forest through which we have traveled for several days past,
and came into a very barren country. Went five miles farther and halted,
with neither grass nor water.
In the afternoon we traveled nine miles and camped on Antelope Creek,
one mile south of the road. The country through which we have traveled
today is extremely rough and barren. (Distance, 30 miles.)
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13.
Break camp in the morning and after three miles of travel we entered the
Sacramento valley--the valley which we have so long wished to see.
Traveled eight miles farther and halted on Deer Creek.
In the afternoon we passed Lassen’s Ranch and camped on the bank of the
Sacramento River. (Distance, 17 miles.)
The full distance from where we left the old trail at Winnemucca on the
Humboldt to this place, as kept by me, is 466 miles; and since we left
Independence, Mo., 2,130 miles.
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 14.
Moved our camp down the river one mile and camped again.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 15.
We did not move our camp today.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16.
We traveled down the Sacramento 23 miles and camped on a creek. We have
found fine grass since we entered this valley.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 17.
We traveled 24 miles down the river and crossed Feather River and camped
on the southern bank.
We are now very near Feather River mines, which we were told we could
reach in 180 miles from the forks of the roads on the Humboldt at
Winnemucca. Instead, as per my account, which I believe is very nearly
correct, the distance is 514 miles as we have traveled it.
We left the Humboldt River, September 14, and reached here October 17,
being 33 days on the “Greenhorn’s Cutoff,” as it is now commonly known.
Probably nearly one-half of the immigrants came by this route.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 18.
We remained encamped here today, endeavoring to make some division of
the property of the Granite State and California Mining and Trading
Company, but did not agree upon any plan that was satisfactory to a
majority.
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 19.
A division of the stock--cattle, mules and horses--was effected in the
forenoon, and some of us went up to the mines in the afternoon. A
portion of the members appeared dissatisfied with the division. We had
but few cattle left and they were very thin and in poor condition. Many
of our mules and horses had died, and were left on the road; and those
that were alive were nearly all seemingly worn out and of but little
value.
The Granite State and California Mining and Trading Company was this day
dissolved by a unanimous vote of its members.
It would have been dissolved long before it reached California had it
not been for the beef cattle, which were the means of holding it
together. They were their principle dependence for food, and it was not
practical to divide them among small squads, as they would have been of
very little benefit to them.
When we entered the Sacramento valley we had but three or four young
cattle and they were so very poor that they could scarcely travel. They
constituted our entire stock of provisions.
Two or three gross errors were committed by the managers before we left
Boston, which were the cause, in great part, of the great length of time
consumed on the road. First, the company should not have consisted of
more than ten members, and it should not have been a
[Illustration:
From an Old Drawing
SUTTER’S MILL, 1849.]
joint stock company; but each member should have provided for himself as
he saw fit, with mules and provisions.
Then we should have had good mules, not less than four years old, and
such as had been broken to packing. The majority of our mules were not
over two or three years of age and had never been broken. They were
entirely unfit for the exceedingly strenuous journey “across the
plains.” For a pack train to drive cattle on that journey for their
dependence for their provisions is a great absurdity.
Had we traveled as rapidly as we expected and intended to have done when
we started on the journey, we could not have driven our cattle very long
until they would have died.
Each man should have owned three or four trained mules in good
condition. I am of the opinion that under good conditions and properly
managed, the journey may be made, fairly easily, in 70 days, with a good
pack train consisting of 10 or 12 active, energetic and courageous men.
We were about 144 days on the road, or about twice the time that should
have been needed under proper conditions and management.
The last cutoff, or the “Greenhorn’s Cutoff,” as it became to be
generally known, that we were induced to adopt proved to be more than
300 miles farther than it was represented to be in distance, and
probably more than 200 miles longer than the old California trail that
we left.
It was currently reported and probably with truth, that some time early
in August, after the immigrants had begun to pass down the trail on the
Humboldt River, a man with a party was sent out over the mountains and
deserts by Lassen, whose ranch was located on the Sacramento River, to
induce so much of the immigration as possible to take that route and
which he called the “Cherokee Cutoff,” and represented the distance to
be but 180 miles to the Feather River mines, with a good road to travel
over with many superior advantages over the old trail.
This new route entered the Sacramento valley near the Lassen ranch, and
as Lassen owned many cattle and horses, he was able to profit largely by
his trade with the tired and famished immigrants.
He probably succeeded in profiting several thousand dollars by his trade
with the poor immigrants, and it is currently reported that the
immigrants have threatened his life, and that they have killed many of
his cattle for food, without any remuneration to him.
A large number of immigrants are still behind, many of them with little
or no subsistence, and had not the Californians sent out mules, horses,
cattle and provisions, probably many of them would have perished with
starvation.
The journey “across the plains” is a very hard experience, the hardships
and privations of which cannot be realized by any one who has not
undertaken it.
On the other hand, it presents much interesting scenery--the grand, the
beautiful and the sublime. Lofty mountains and green, verdant valleys,
majestic rivers and sandy, barren plains--all contribute, with much
more, to make it a very interesting, and in a way, an enjoyable
experience.
Nature may be seen in its wildest grandeur where civilization and art
have neither added to its usefulness nor retrenched its beauty.
The full distance traveled from Independence, Mo., to the Sacramento
River, at Lassen’s Ranch, as kept by me, is as follows:
In May, 73 miles; in June, 429 miles; in July, 436 miles; in August, 471
miles; in September, 523 miles; in October, 198 miles. This makes it
2,130 miles to Sacramento River. To Feather River, near Oroville, 2,178
miles.
CHAPTER V.
THE LAND OF GOLD.
The following pages are from the original manuscript written by
Kimball Webster, which relates a few of the many experiences in
California from October, 1849, to June, 1851, and in Oregon from
June, 1851, to July, 1854.--EDITOR.
At that time California and Oregon were both territories and belonged to
the United States, and both in a semi-primitive condition. California
had been a part of Mexico until 1847, only two years prior to the time
of which I am writing. This seems difficult to comprehend at the present
time, 1914, when California and Oregon have taken their places among the
great and leading states of the Union, as to population, wealth and
influences.
On the arrival in California of the gold seekers of 1849, the prospects
did not present as favorable and promising an appearance to a large
percentage of the newly arrived immigrants as they had been led to
picture to their imagination. Very many of them had believed that once
they were in the mines, gold would be found in such quantities it would
require but a few weeks, or months at the most, for them to be able to
gather enough of the precious metal to enable them to return to their
homes independent for the rest of their lives.
Many, however, were doomed to a most sad and bitter disappointment, and
far better would it have been for such had they remained at home and
enjoyed the domestic pleasures which they had left behind.
It was found that to make a success of mining gold from the California
mines was one of the most laborious kinds of employment that a man could
engage in; and required energy and perseverance to ensure a reasonably
profitable return as a whole.
Some, it is true, were fortunate in finding gold in such quantities as
to enable them to gather a moderate fortune in comparatively a short
time and return to their homes. But these were exceptions.
I believe that one ounce of gold per day was above the average pay of
the miners then actually at work in mining in the placer mines of
California.
There was then, and for years later, a large percentage of the
California miners not at work. Some would be traveling through the
mountains with pick, shovel and pan, together with as much provisions as
they were able to carry--“prospecting,” as it was called, or searching
for a “rich lead.” Sometimes their labors would be happily and richly
rewarded, but more often were they sadly disappointed. Many at that time
were lying under friendly trees, or in their tents, having been stricken
down by the prevalent diseases, at that time raging in the country, many
dying almost daily. A very large number had been brought up without
labor, and some were too indolent to labor; or perhaps, had been clerks
or students, and to make enough for their present needs was as much as
many were able to accomplish. Others would gamble at the Monte table, or
at poker.
Owing to the influx of immigration into the territory in such large
numbers, it was deemed best by many of the people to form a state
constitution, and then ask admission to the Union. Accordingly, a
convention was called at Monterey, which framed a constitution, and a
little later it was submitted to the people, who almost unanimously
adopted it, and immediately forwarded it to Washington.
The first gold dust seen by me in California was at Lassen’s Ranch, near
where we entered the Sacramento valley. At that point there were traders
selling provisions, mining implements, clothing and other needed
articles to the unfortunate immigrants who had entered the valley by the
way of “Greenhorn’s Cutoff,” and to miners that were traveling up the
valley to Redding’s mines; these men taking in exchange gold dust which
they wished with small scales provided for that purpose.
Gold dust at sixteen dollars per ounce was the principal medium of
exchange in California. Some of the dust was nearly clean, and some had
considerable quantities of black sand mixed with it. This at first
seemed to be a very inconvenient manner of making change and paying for
goods, but it possessed its good qualities.
The newcomer with his exalted ideas, on seeing the small quantity which
he would receive for one, two, three or even five dollars, and so very
fine was the dust, that it looked to him almost insignificant. Some of
it was so very fine that it almost required a microscope to be able to
discover its separate particles. A person must be able to earn something
to make a living here.
Flour retails at 40 cents per pound; pork from 50 to 75 cents; potatoes
at $1.50 per pound; sugar 50 cents; eggs $5.00 per dozen; a pick or
shovel $8 to $10 each; rockers to wash gold with in the mines, from $40
to $50 each; a quicksilver gold rocker $300; lumber in the mines sold
for $2.00 per foot, or at the rate of $2000 per thousand feet, and at
Sacramento City it sold at six hundred dollars per thousand.
Other necessaries sold at equally as high prices in proportion. Such
seemingly exorbitant prices seemed at first to the newly arrived
immigrant as if he was being robbed. It seemed far different to those
that have been here a few weeks. In buying provisions or other
necessaries they do not appear to think any more about paying the
California prices than they would the customary prices when at their
homes.
This at present is a fast country, and money must be made fast or the
miners could not make a comfortable livelihood, having to pay such
prices. It is said that in case a person is taken sick here and employs
a physician, that the M. D. will size his “pile,” whether large or
small. Probably this was not strictly true in all cases, but in many
cases they collected very exorbitant fees. It was also a prevailing
opinion among the miners that many of the physicians now in the country
do not understand the prevailing diseases of the country; and that many
of them are the cause of more sickness and death than they are the means
of saving lives. How far this is true I will not undertake to determine;
but from what I saw at this time and later, there were apparently a few
good, skilled physicians in the country, and very many whose success
seemed to be quite poor and unfortunate for some cause.
It seemed to require but two things only to kill the strongest man in
California, however slight the disease might at first be. First, to
apply for a doctor; and second, to lose his courage and believe he would
soon die, and that he would never see his home and friends again. With
this combination I never knew the first man to recover under similar
circumstances, in the early days of California.
The population of the country at this time was a heterogeneous mass from
almost all parts of the civilized world. New England is well
represented. The majority of the Yankees came by the way of Cape Horn;
some across the Isthmus of Panama, and a few across the country.
Missouri probably had more immigrants in California, by far, than any
other state, and for some reason which is not easy to explain, they were
not so popular as those from most other states. They were popularly
known by others as “Pukes.” Illinois, Indiana, Wisconsin and Iowa all
sent large numbers. New York sent a large delegation, the larger part by
water. From the southern slaveholding states there were but
comparatively few.
England, France, Germany and Ireland were all quite largely represented.
Also Sidney, New South Wales, which had formerly been England’s penal
colony for many years. Very large numbers came from this colony, a great
majority of them being former convicts. These were by far the worst
class of people then in California. They were principally English,
Scotch and Irish, but the greatest number were Scotch. They had formerly
been transported from England, Scotland and Ireland for some serious
crime committed, and dared not return to their homes, many of them being
under penalty of death. But they could come to California and there was
no penalty attached, or no one to question their right to do so, and
they enjoyed equal rights with the American citizen. There were also
many Mexicans and Chilians at work in the mines, packing mule trains
with provisions, mining tools, etc. Many of them were very treacherous,
being mixed breeds, and if possible, worse than the Sidney Ducks, as
they were called, and I believe more treacherous than the North American
Indian.
All classes of people were here--mechanics, clerks, men of all
professions mingled together to make up the population. Here were
doctors and lawyers hard at work in the mines, clerks who had never
before performed a day’s work of manual labor, with a red flannel shirt
on, their sleeves rolled up, armed with a pick and shovel, digging their
fortunes from the banks and bars of the rivers. Ministers of the Gospel
seeking wild speculations, and a few of them seated behind a table
dealing “Monte,” or some other game of chance. Sailors and soldiers also
formed a considerable percentage of the mining population, and seemed to
be just as independent as a member of Congress, and were probably
making, many of them, larger pay.
On Friday, October 19, The Granite State and California Mining and
Trading Company, about which there was so much talk in Boston and
Pelham, was practically dissolved, its former members going various
ways.
Some went to Sacramento City; some to Feather River mines; and some in
other directions, each for himself, and no longer trammeled by the
restrictions of a joint stock company.
The Pelham folks moved up to Long’s Bar on Feather River, some five or
six miles from the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. At this
place there was a small town consisting of a few stores and quite a
large number of mining camps.
A few of the miners had tents, some had brush shanties, and many more
with nothing for a shelter but the trees. At night there was no
necessity for shelter, the weather being clear and dry without a
particle of dew to moisten the earth.
Here the miners were at work along the banks of the river, some digging
in the crevices of the rocks and washing the pay dirt in a pan, while
others were taking their dirt from the banks in larger quantities and
washing it in cradles made for that purpose. The country about this
place is hilly and is covered with a growth of several species of oak.
The Live Oak is an evergreen and is scrubby and small. The White Oak is
of a larger size, but is low and branching.
The land here is not very heavily timbered, much of it being “Oak
Openings.” The soil is red.
Some of the Pelham folks that came with us thought perhaps it would be
wise and profitable to form a company and send to Sacramento City for
their winter provisions; and accordingly the writings were drawn up and
signed by the following persons: Doctor Amos Batchelder, George Carlton,
Samuel Worcester Gage, Robert Thom, Jacob Morris, Joseph Davis Gage,
Austin W. Pinney, together with two or three other members of the former
Granite State Company. I was given an invitation to take a share in the
newly formed company, but I declined, not being prepared to join another
mining company at present.
The company immediately dispatched two of its men with mules to
Sacramento to procure provisions and other necessary articles, in
readiness for the rainy season which was expected within a month.
I was the owner of one mule which I forwarded to Sacramento by those men
for sale for whatever price it might sell for. I received in return $62.
On Sunday, October 21, S. W. Gage and Austin W. Pinney concluded they
would leave the new company, and they with myself traveled up the river
8 miles to Bidwell’s Bar, another mining camp, where we agreed to
commence work the next morning on a dam for a company at $6 per day
each, board included.
On Monday morning we shouldered our blankets and walked to Bidwell’s in
season to perform three-fourths of a day’s work. We also labored Tuesday
and Wednesday.
As this was the first real manual labor performed by us for many months,
and the weather being excessively warm and the work we were required to
perform very laborious, it was not an easy matter for us to put in the
time. We were just in from the mountains where the atmosphere was cool
and bracing, and the locality here was on the river, surrounded by high
hills and mountains, where the sun’s rays fell unobstructed by any
friendly shade trees. The labor was of the hardest kind. We were
building a dam across Feather River for the purpose of turning the
stream from its natural channel for a short distance, so the bed of the
stream could be worked and the gravel washed to obtain whatever gold it
might contain. At that time it was supposed to be large quantities.
The company for which we were at work consisted of about twenty members,
who were at work with us. They were in haste to complete the dam before
the rainy season should set in; consequently they worked more hours in a
day than they otherwise would have done.
We were obliged to carry large rocks and loads of gravel, cobble stones,
etc., from the shore to the dam on hand barrows, which was called by us
“soul carting.” After we had worked two and three-fourths days, Mr. Gage
thought he could not endure it any longer, so we concluded to quit and
commence mining on our own account and be independent.
Consequently we bought an old “cradle” for $50, two tin pans for $8, a
pick and shovel, and commenced operations. Our cooking apparatus
consisted of one tin kettle for which we paid $4, a fry pan, a few
knives and forks, three or four tin plates, some tin cups and a coffee
pot, which we inherited from the old company.
For a shelter we had the broad canopy of heaven; and for a bed dry sand.
To us the mines presented a novel and interesting appearance. There were
at this time no less than seventy-five to one hundred mining cradles on
Bidwell’s Bar, with two or three men at work at each cradle.
The cradles were set along at the water’s edge. The dirt was carried
from the bank to the water in tin pans and poured into the upper part of
the machine--or that part called the screen. This was a box about 15
inches square, with a sheet iron bottom perforated with holes about
one-half inch in diameter.
A pan full of pay dirt was dug and turned into the screen and water
poured upon it freely, while the cradle was rocked vigorously. This
separated the coarse gravel and small stones from the sand, which passed
to the bottom of the machine and was carried away by the water, while
the gold being much heavier than the sand and gravel, was left at the
bottom of the cradle.
The cradles were from three to four feet in length, with two or three
bars across the bottom. The miners at this place were making from $10 to
$30 a day, and a great majority were immigrants that had just come in
over the country, and consequently were new hands at mining, each
learning by experience the knack of separating the gold from the sand as
best he could. We had endeavored to gain some information in regard to
the process before we commenced here, but had not succeeded farther than
what knowledge we could acquire by watching others do the work, and
imitating the process as far as possible.
Everything in the mines is quiet, and although traders and others leave
large quantities of gold dust entirely exposed, there is said to be
almost no thefts committed. Many of the traders are also miners, and
very many have not even a tent in which to store their goods, and have
no safe or bank to deposit it in--not even a trunk to place their gold
in to keep it from the sight of those who are easily tempted, or are
devoid of principle.
I have seen quantities of several thousand dollars worth of gold dust
lying in full sight, while the owner at the same time would be away at
work at the river, a quarter or a half mile away.
If a person is so unfortunate as to be taken seriously sick here it
seems almost an impossibility for him to recover and regain his former
strength. This probably is owing much more to the manner of living, and
to the poor quality of food, than to the climate.
Scurvy is very prevalent among the land immigrants, and in this country
at this time is one of the most serious diseases we have among us. To
cure the scurvy requires a vegetable diet, which cannot be had at any
price in the mines at the present time.
The flour is almost all musty, having been shipped around Cape Horn in
the hold of a vessel; pork is rusty, as it is called, some of it nearly
spoiled. Flour and pork are the two principal articles of diet.
Sometimes beef can be had and that is of the best quality. California
beef is just as good as any. Physicians’ charges are exorbitant, fifty
or a hundred dollars not being considered at all high for a professional
visit. This is certainly a very hard country for a sick man. It is often
said that if a man is taken sick here that he is no better than dead.
There are some cases of recovery, however. Many die of scurvy, of fevers
of different kinds, and other diseases. The sudden changes of climate
probably may cause considerable sickness.
For the last two or three weeks before entering the valley, we had cool
weather with frosty nights, being in the mountains at a high altitude,
but here, although the nights are cool and very pleasant, the days are
so very warm that the thermometer stands at 100° in the shade. Many
whose food was largely salted provisions during the journey across the
plains from Missouri to Sacramento valley, got their systems impregnated
with salt and grease, and so became easy victims to the scurvey.
The miners generally appear to be in excellent spirits, and seem to
enjoy life as well as the circumstances of their conditions will admit.
A few of them have tents, some have brush shanties, but by far the
larger portion camp in the open air, or under friendly trees, where they
have a good opportunity to study astronomy after they lie down, by
watching the moon and the stars. It is said by many, and it seems to be
true, that for the moon to shine in a persons face while sleeping, is
very injurious to the eyes. I have known some cases where persons have
become almost blind, with no other good reason assigned. I believe it to
be a safe plan for all persons who are accustomed to sleeping in the
open air to always shade their face from the moon. From my own
experience, I believe I have suffered with my eyes to a considerable
degree from that cause. A person’s eyes seem to become injured to a
considerable extent before they are aware that anything wrong is taking
place. What power, if any, the lunar rays have upon the human eye I am
unprepared to explain.
The miners principally do their own cooking, and washing, if they have
any done.
Their living is most commonly fried pork and flapjacks, or _flippers_ as
they are called, and fresh beef, which I believe is as good as any beef
that can be found. One pound of this beef seems to be worth as much as
several pounds of the miserable poor, cordy stuff that we called beef
and ate for food on the journey to California. This is as fat and juicy
as could be desired.
On Thursday, October 26, 1849, we commenced mining and set our cradle on
the lower point of Bidwell’s Bar, where we kept it running through the
day, with the exception of a short time at noon.
As new miners we thought that the more and faster we washed the dirt,
the more gold dust we should have to our credit at night, and
consequently we kept the screen full all day and crowded it through as
fast at it was possible. When night came we took it out of the cradle
into a pan and tried to separate the black sand from the gold dust. But
for us that was the most difficult operation of the whole process.
When we commenced we had nearly a pailful of the sand, and after a time
we had succeeded in reducing it very materially in quantity, but could
not separate the gold entirely from the sand, and consequently we were
unable to ascertain the amount of gold that we had acquired for our
day’s work. However, we concluded that we were not doing as well as we
desired and decided to look up another claim.
Our claim was at the extreme point of the Bar and
[Illustration:
From an Old Print.
MINING SCENE.]
would soon run out, or become exhausted, as it is called by the miners.
The next morning we found a claim a short distance below on the opposite
side of the river that had been worked for a considerable distance into
the bank. There was an old rocker in the hole that was made from a tree,
it having been dug out. Probably this was left here for the purpose of
holding the claim if that should be desirable.
We learned that the men who had been working the claim had gone up the
river and were engaged in building a log cabin.
We thought they were not entitled to hold a claim here and one in the
mountains at the same time, so we moved the old machine out the hole
where it would not trouble us and went to work.
We worked five days before we separated the gold from the black sand and
did not know how well we were doing, but on making the separation we
found we had averaged very nearly one ounce each per day, with which we
were fairly well satisfied as a beginning.
Could we have continued indefinitely to make as good pay, it would have
been better than we had dared to hope. The weather continued warm and
dry until Tuesday, October 30, when it became cloudy and presented a
very strong appearance of rain.
It did not storm, however, before night, when the rain began to descend
and it continued to fall nearly all night. This was not very agreeable
to us as we were sleeping without shelter on the ground, which soon
began to grow damp and cold. Our situation was no worse than that of
hundreds of others who were caught in a similar condition.
Very few of the miners had any shelter and the best equipped had nothing
but tents. A few days previous we had been warned by an old Californian
that when the rainy season should begin the rain would descend in
torrents. He said the miners were sure to be caught in a bad and
unfortunate situation.
The first shower of the rainy season might be expected to continue for
about four weeks. We afterwards learned to our sorrow that his statement
was nearly correct.
The rain commenced on the evening of the 30th day of October, and until
November 21st it rained more or less 19 days out of the 23. The greater
part of the time it was so very wet that it was useless to undertake to
work.
The river was swollen to such an extent that the bars along its shores
were covered with water and could not be worked. The natural roads down
the valley to Sacramento City became so very soft and muddy that pack
mules could not travel them with packs, and provisions were boated up
the river as far as possible, and then carried upon the miners’ backs.
The limited stock of provisions in the mines at the beginning of the
rainy season was soon exhausted, and consequently food soon became very
scarce and extremely high. Flour advanced from 40 cents to $1.50 per
pound, and much of it that was sold at that exorbitant price was so
badly hurt that it required the use of a hatchet to cut it in pieces to
remove it from the barrel. Other provisions became equally as expensive
in proportion, and were difficult to procure at any price.
When the rainy season commenced a great number began to prepare some
protection or shelter. Some built themselves small cloth or canvas
tents, others constructed small log huts, while a few dug holes in the
ground and covered them over Indian fashion. Not a few left the mines
for the city, where provisions could be had at a lower price. Gage,
Pinney and myself, when the rains commenced, procured a shelter in a
large tent that belonged to some New Yorkers, and which stood near where
we had been camping.
We paid two dollars each per week for the privilege of sleeping in the
tent, and found our own blankets, and we considered ourselves very
fortunate in obtaining so good a shelter.
About the 10th of November, Mr. Gage being somewhat indisposed, left us
and went down and joined the Pelham company, about two miles above
Long’s Bar. They were engaged in building a log cabin and making other
preparations for the long rainy season. Pinney and myself bought a claim
in the bank of the river, for which we paid $40. It had formerly been
quite productive, but had been worked back into the bank considerably.
We found it to be very little, if any better, than our old claim where
we began mining.
From the 30th of October to the 21st of November we labored as much as
the state of the weather and the high stage of the water would admit,
but owing to the large proportion of rainy weather and the many other
discouragements under which we labored, and also to the high prices of
provisions, we could no more than earn our expenses, and we were doing
far better than the average of the miners about Bidwell’s at that time.
Finally we concluded to leave the mines, for a time at least, to explore
the valley and see if we could find anything to do. Accordingly we
started on the afternoon of the 22nd of November and traveled down the
river about 13 miles to Mayhew’s ranch, or rather tent, near the
foothills.
Here we tried to procure something for supper, but all that could be
bought in the line of provisions of any kind was some raw venison.
We started a fire under a tree and roasted our meat on a forked stick,
and ate it without salt. This we found quite dry and not the best of
living, but it was the best, and all, that our money would buy,
consequently we were compelled to make the best of it. We slept under a
large oak tree, and in the morning roasted and ate some more of our
venison, after which we proceeded on our way down the valley.
After traveling about ten miles we came to the ranch of Charles H.
Burch, where we found a boat ready to leave for Sacramento City early
the next morning, and we concluded to engage a passage for that place.
However, upon making application, we learned that the seats were all
engaged. The boat was owned by Mr. Burch and was only a whaleboat which
would seat about twenty persons.
Thomas D. Bonner was captain. Captain Bonner was formerly president of
the New Hampshire Temperance Society, but had resided in Massachusetts.
Some time previous to his embarkation for California he was said to be
quite a poet in his way and composed many of the songs used at the
temperance meetings, etc. He was formerly, according to his own account
of his previous life, a real street drunkard--a mere sot. He called
himself a reformed drunkard now.
After learning that we could not procure passage aboard the boat, we
thought we would construct a raft on which we could float to Sacramento
at our leisure.
However, we could not find any suitable timber with which to build a
raft, and further, Mr. Burch said he was well acquainted with the river
between here and Sacramento, and that he should advise no person to
attempt to make the passage on a raft--that by doing so they most
probably would lose their lives, unless they were good swimmers. He had
known of two or three parties that had attempted it, but all were
shipwrecked and lost all they had with them. He said the river was full
of snags and sand bars, and that it was as much as he could do to pilot
a good boat through safely.
His graphic account of the river below exploded our calculations in
regard to attempting a passage by raft to the city. At this time it was
almost impossible to travel to Sacramento by land, the road being very
muddy with numerous slough crossings, which were full of water with
neither bridges nor ferries. At some places the Sacramento had already
overflowed its low bottom lands.
Burch was an old Californian who came to Oregon by way of the overland
route in 1842 or 1843. He remained in that territory two or three years,
when he came to California, then Mexico, and had since resided here,
where he was in the army of Col. John C. Fremont in the Mexican war,
1847. He was formerly from Maryland and has no family. He was rough in
his address and extremely profane.
He had taken a claim on the bank of Feather River, upon which he was
intending to construct a house the following winter. He made a
proposition to give us employment until he should complete his house at
a salary of $4.50 each per day and board.
This, considering the high prices of provisions, and the large
proportion of wet weather, was as well as we would be likely to do at
that time, and consequently we agreed to work for him until such time as
we could do better, or as long a time as we all should be satisfied.
Mr. Burch contemplated the construction of a house by putting hewn posts
into the ground and nailing on to them weather boards which were riven
from oak logs.
A house of this kind would not answer a very good purpose in a cold
climate, but was tight enough to be free from leakage and would be a
very good shelter for California.
This point was about twenty miles above the junction of the Feather and
Yuba rivers, and 80 or 90 miles above the mouth of the Feather, where it
intersects the Sacramento River. The surrounding country was nearly
level, and was covered with a growth of large, scattering, branching oak
trees. The soil was of a sandy nature, and was not as fertile as it was
in some other localities. Some of the oak trees were very large but were
low and branching.
I measured one that was eleven feet in diameter near the ground--“a
sturdy old oak” surely, that had stood the storms, the winds and the
fires of many centuries.
A little farther away from the river the soil was more of a clayey
nature and there was considerable live oak growth. Some of the soil was
red--a kind of red clay--and seemed to New Hampshire people as being
almost worthless for cultivation.
The live oak was small and scrubby, an evergreen almost worthless for
timber.
The white oak produces large quantities of acorns which made good,
nourishing food for swine. Fremont, I believe, stated that he had seen
acorns grown from a single tree to cover the ground under its branches
four inches in thickness. This I believe to be an exaggeration in
keeping with many others made by that illustrious pathfinder.
Mr. Pinney and myself commenced work for Mr. C. H. Burch on Monday,
November 26. A few days later, James M. Butler, one of our party of
Pelham boys, came down from the mines in search of employment, and
engaged himself to work for Mr. Burch, commencing to work with us at a
uniform salary.
Robert Thom, another of our Pelham friends, was at this time working for
his board about one mile up the valley from the Burch ranch at a place
known as the “Hole in the Ground.” This resort derived its name from the
fact that it was a mere hole excavated in the ground and covered with
mud, etc., so as to shed the rain. It was owned by a fellow known as
“Ned,” and one or two others, all from Sidney. It was conducted as a
tavern or a stopping place for travelers.
Mr. Thom was expected to get and prepare wood, cook, and do other work.
We went up to visit him one evening and gave him an invitation to go to
work with us at $4.50, as Mr. Burch desired to employ one more man, for
a few weeks at least.
To this proposition Robert replied, that in all probability Mr. Burch
would not have work for a man much more than one month, and in case he
should begin work for him, he was afraid he would lose his place with
Ned. He said his labor was not very hard and he thought he would remain
for the present and make sure of his board.
It seemed to me that if a man was afraid of losing his place when he was
at work for his board only in California, he certainly could have very
little ambition. I thought he had better have remained at home with his
family, and saved the long and tedious journey across the plains; but he
was firm and decided and remained there until spring.
Mr. Burch desired to contract a ditch to be dug to enclose a field
containing ten acres on the river bank, and Pinney contracted to do the
work at the price of two dollars per rod, with the understanding that
Mr. Burch should board him, and that the ditch should be four feet deep
and four feet wide at the top and twenty inches wide at the bottom, and
that it was not to be commenced until we had finished the other job.
About 120 rods of ditch were to be dug. After Pinney had made the
contract to dig the ditch he thought the price was too low and he
wished me to promise to do a part of it. I thought as he did, that the
price was low for excavating so large a ditch, but I promised to help
him to do it, and also Mr. Butler desired to do a portion of it.
After working for Mr. Burch about three weeks, he asked us to go to
Sacramento with his boat after a load of provisions, for which he agreed
to pay us five dollars per day each.
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
[Illustration:
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.
CHAPTER VII.
LIFE IN THE MINES.
After a lapse of 44 years--January, 1894--I resumed this narrative.
The foregoing was written not long after the events therein written had
transpired, from notes taken from day to day. All those events were then
fresh in my memory.
Such notes as I took subsequent to the 9th of January, 1850, while I
remained in California, and later while I was in Oregon, were not so
copious and full, and what I may hereafter write in relation to my
experiences in those states (then territories) for the next four years
and more will be drawn from these scanty notes, with the assistance of a
very retentive memory.
At the date of the sad experience with the boat on the Feather River,
January 9, 1850, I was a young man of a little more than twenty-one
years of age; while at this time I am more than sixty-five, yet my
memory is still quite fresh in regard to many of those events that
transpired in those times, while I doubt not that many others of equal
interest may have been forgotten altogether; or I may retain only a
partial or faint recollection of them at this time.
In consequence of this, whatever I may write in the following pages will
be such only as I distinctly remember, and they will be a few of the
leading incidents connected with my residence in California and Oregon
until August, 1854, when I returned to New Hampshire.
After a rest of two days from January 9, 1850, the time of the accident
with the boat, we again resumed work with Mr. Burch, and soon after
commenced the excavation of the ditch, which was for the purpose of a
fence on three sides of a field of ten acres, Feather River to form the
boundary on the remaining side. The land was sandy and free from stones,
and the shoveling excellent. We made a very good job, as by hard work we
could each excavate four or five rods a day. The weather at this time
was pleasant. The rainy season had not entirely passed, but February was
a fine month and very agreeable.
After the ditch was completed, as Mr. Burch had no more work for us, we
traveled down the river to Yuba City, a small, new village on the west
bank of the Feather River, opposite the mouth of the Yuba River.
At that time Marysville, situated on the other side of Feather River and
a short distance up the Yuba, was composed of very few buildings, with
the exception of Nye’s ranch, which was one of the old California adobe
ranches. This was substantially at the head of steam navigation on
Feather River, and there was quite a rivalry between the two
“cities”--each trying to become _the_ “city.”
Yuba City had the first beginning, but Marysville later outrivaled her
and became the more important place. At this time two or three small
steamers plied between Sacramento, Yuba City and Marysville. The largest
of these was a flat-bottomed boat of considerable size, which, if I
remember correctly, was the Vezie. It was owned by a company from Maine,
called the Vezie Company, and was built in Maine, taken around Cape Horn
on a vessel, and set up in California. I believe Captain, Colonel or
General Vezie was at the head of the company.
Green oak wood was used for fuel to operate the steamboat, and as there
was quite a number of men present, members and stockholders of the
company, a small board shanty was erected a short distance below Yuba
City for the accommodation of the choppers who undertook to cut the fuel
for the steamer from the oaks that grew near by.
The majority of these men were young and were entirely unused to such
hard manual labor as chopping, and the outcome was that eight or ten of
them could not, or did not, cut a sufficient amount of wood to supply
the boat with fuel.
Shortly after our arrival at Yuba City, I met the agent of the steamboat
company and made an agreement with him to cut 100 cords of wood at $6.50
per cord.
The wood was to be cut three feet in length and split, but no deduction
was to be made on account of its short length. I informed Pinney and
Butler of the contract I had entered into, and of course they expected
to take part in the job.
Mr. Pinney was a native of Vermont, and cutting cord wood had been his
principal work for many years.
For several years previous to his immigration to California he had
resided in Pelham, and had cut wood for about nine months in each year,
being engaged at haying and other work for the farmers during the
heated term of summer. He was noted in Pelham as being an expert
chopper, one that could cut more wood in a given time than any other man
known in or about Pelham. Mr. Butler and myself both knew how to use the
axe, but had never cut very much cord wood.
Mr. Pinney made the remark that in all probability he would cut as much
wood as Mr. Butler and myself together. I made the reply, that if he
should cut twice as much wood as I did, I would leave the job.
A ferry spanned the river from this place to the Marysville side, and
the fare for foot passengers was fifty cents each way.
No axes were on sale in Yuba City, and Mr. Pinney was selected to go to
Marysville and purchase three chopping axes. In due time he returned
with the axes--three being the entire stock found in the market in
Marysville.
As I remember, the price paid was ten dollars each, without helves. One
of them was about the ordinary size and weight for a chopping axe, while
another was a large, heavy one, and the third light and small like a
boy’s axe. Mr. Pinney selected the one of medium size for himself, and
said that Mr. Butler and I could make such arrangements as we should
choose in regard to the other two. I gave Mr. Butler his choice and he
took the heavy one. We made arrangements with a man by the name of
Galushia, who had a tent, to supply us with board at the price of two
dollars per day. He did the cooking over a fire outside the tent.
We each made a helve and hung the axes and began chopping. The wood was
the white oak species and was growing a short distance back from the
river. The trees were principally large, very old and brash, not very
tall but with numerous large branches spreading over a wide surface. The
trees were scattering, with no underbrush, “oak openings.” It was seldom
that we cut the trunks of the trees into wood, but left them on the
ground, making use of the branches only. In many instances we would
climb the trees and cut off the branches and leave the trunk standing.
The first of my work at chopping caused my hands to blister badly. It
was late in the forenoon when I commenced, and when it became night I
felt an anxiety to know about how much I had succeeded in cutting. I
piled and measured it, when I found I had cut in the short day, one and
one-quarter cords, or had earned over eight dollars.
By the agreement made we were not required to pile the wood, but the
company was to have it drawn out and piled on the bank of the river,
where it could be measured.
We were not a long time in completing the contract of cutting one
hundred cords, and we made another contract to cut another hundred
cords. Each of us had our wood kept separate and piled by itself. Some
days, when I was fortunate in the selection of a good tree, I would cut
as much as four cords; while on some other days, when I had a bad tree,
I would not cut more than two cords. The first week or ten days of
chopping caused my hands to become very sore, so much so that the helve
of the axe would be covered with blood when they came in contact with
it.
MARCH 1, 1850.
After having worked at chopping about one month and having had our wood
drawn out and measured, it was found I had cut almost two-thirds as much
as had Mr. Pinney, and Mr. Butler had cut about one-half as much.
As spring was approaching and as gold mining was our chief object and
uppermost in our minds as a means by which to make a fortune in
California, we thought the time was near at hand when we should select a
mining claim for the coming summer.
At that time it was almost the universal opinion among the miners of
California that the beds of the rivers and large streams must be very
rich with gold dust. That to turn the water from its natural channel so
as to be able to work out the gravel from the bed of the stream, a quick
fortune was almost sure to result.
The mines had been worked for a comparatively short time, and this plan
had not been tested in only a few instances. The theory was that as gold
was found in greater or lesser quantities along the shores of nearly all
the streams, in almost every bar, and in paying quantities in a great
number of them, if the river bed could be worked there would be
necessarily large deposits of the yellow metal, as owing to its great
specific gravity it would naturally seek the lowest levels and there
remain.
The rivers in the mountains were a succession of falls and rapids, and
at many such places it was practical to construct temporary dams, so as
to turn the streams from their channels for a greater or lesser
distance.
Almost the entire mining population of Feather River in the spring of
1850 was engaged in enterprises of this nature. Many had selected their
mining claims in the autumn previous or in the early winter, and had
worked upon them during the winter in making preparations to carry their
project into execution as early in the spring as the water should become
low enough to permit of its being successfully carried out. The Pelham
company owned a claim on the south fork of Feather River, where they had
built and were occupying a comfortable log-house, and had expended much
time and labor in making the necessary preparations.
They bought a pitsaw with which they sawed sufficient plank for the
construction of a long flume to carry the water a considerable distance.
In appearance it was one of the most promising gold claims in the
mountains. It was almost certain that for each one of the company there
was a fortune awaiting in the bed of the stream.
Numerous similar companies were constructing improvements of greater or
lesser magnitude. Everybody seemed sanguine of success.
We were doing fairly well at cutting wood and could continue to cut for
the Vezie Company at six dollars per short cord. We could earn on the
average, including some rainy weather, twelve or fifteen dollars a day.
But we naturally reasoned something different. If our friends in the
mines should _strike it rich_ and succeed in making a moderate fortune
in a few months and we should spend our time cutting wood when we had
the opportunity of securing a claim at some place along the river,
perhaps equally as rich as others, we should regret that we did not
attend to it at the opportune time.
After discussing the matter in many different aspects, it was decided by
us that Mr. Pinney would remain and cut wood, while Mr. Butler and
myself would go up the river into the mountains and endeavor to secure a
claim.
Consequently, we left Yuba City and went up the Feather River into the
mining country. After prospecting for several days, we succeeded in
securing a claim on the middle fork of Feather River, nearly thirty
miles above Bidwell’s.
At this time large quantities of snow still remained in the mountains
above Bidwell’s Bar. We made sufficient arrangements to comply with the
mining rules and regulations to hold the claim, and formed a company.
The names of all of this company I do not at this time recall, but at
least there were two additional men that made the journey with us from
Boston to California--Alden J. Nutting, of Westford, Mass., and Cyrus
Whittemore, of Antrim, N. H.
The most promising claims had been selected and we made the best
arrangements that seemed practical at that time.
The winter of 1849-50 was noted for the great amount of rain that fell
in the valleys and the enormous depth of snow that accumulated in the
mountains. It was not expected that the streams would become
sufficiently low so as to admit of working our claim before June.
After making the arrangements to hold the claim we returned to Bidwell’s
and did some mining there and at a place on the middle fork of Feather
River, about 15
[Illustration:
From an Old Print.
POSTOFFICE IN ’49.]
miles from Bidwell’s. The water being high our success was poor.
While at Yuba City I became acquainted with a man by the name of Damon.
Capt. Robert D. Bonner went into trade then in company with another man
and desired to hire some money at 10 per cent interest per month.
I loaned him a considerable sum, but unfortunately I never received from
him any interest nor any part of the principal. I soon afterwards lost
sight of him and never knew his fate. As he had become very dissipated
probably he did not survive long.
Hay had sold at very high prices the winter previous, in some of the
cities as high as $500 per ton.
Mr. Damon of Yuba City made the proposition that we go up Feather River
to a suitable place and there cut and stack a lot of hay and sell it
later. He said he could not mow himself, but that he would hire a man to
mow with me, and as he owned a horse, he would draw the hay together and
pile it up, and we would sell it before the rainy season should set in.
I acquiesced in the proposition and we went up the river a few miles to
a place where we found the grass was quite good. We bargained for the
right to cut as much as we might desire for a nominal sum from a man
that owned a ranch nearby. He was a squatter and probably had no more
right to the grass than we had.
Mr. Damon owned one scythe and we succeeded in finding another--an old
one--which we purchased for about fifty dollars. Mr. Damon hired Alden
J. Nutting, before mentioned. Mr. Nutting was a short, thick set,
robust, muscular man, and seemed to be in the enjoyment of good health.
The grass grew on the river bottom and was the natural product of the
soil. It stood quite thick and was a fair crop, but had been trampled by
cattle that had ranged over it and fed upon it at will, which caused it
to be slow and difficult mowing.
We commenced mowing on Monday morning and I continued mowing every day
through the week until Saturday night. Mr. Nutting complained of being
exhausted and quit work at Thursday noon, but resumed again on Friday
morning. There was no dew there at the time and the hay remained in the
swath as it fell from the scythe, where it cured perfectly.
The next week we pitched it together into small piles where we loaded it
upon a wagon and formed it into a square pile on the ground in a broad,
open field.
Rakes of any kind we did not use. We did some more mowing for Mr. Damon,
as he would need some to feed to his horse.
Our stack of hay was about 40 feet long by 30 feet wide and ten or
eleven feet high, and was estimated to contain twenty tons.
It is impossible at the present time, after the lapse of nearly
forty-five years, to give from memory a _connected_ account of _all_ the
transactions in which I was engaged during the spring, summer and fall
of 1850. Consequently, I will write about events of which I find my
original minutes, or others of which I still have a distinct memory,
without regard to the exact dates or order in which they transpired. It
is possible that some events which I may relate may have taken place at
a time previous to that of cutting the hay.
Some time I believe during that spring as Mr. Pinney and myself were
returning from the mines on our way to Marysville, or Yuba City, we made
a stop at Charles Burch’s ranch, where we met a party of surveyors.
The engineer, Robert Elder, a Scotchman who had been employed for twelve
years as an assistant engineer on the Michigan and Illinois canal, said
to us that he was short of help and would like to employ us for a short
time if our price was satisfactory.
Having no particular work in view, we set our price at eight dollars per
day with board. Mr. Elder thought that was more than he could afford to
pay for help that had had no experience at such work, but said we could
go to work on trial for two or three days.
He was laying out a new city a short distance farther up the river, it
being a mile square, or nearly so. He had then worked upon it for a few
days. The survey was being done for a company in Sacramento City, who
later erected one or two large buildings, and made considerable effort
to get a city started, but at length it proved to be a “paper city,” as
has been the fate of numerous other like schemes in the West. We
commenced work and after a few days were constantly expecting a notice
of acquittal from Mr. Elder, or otherwise a reduction of wages. Nothing,
however, was said by either party in regard to it for nearly two weeks,
when I inquired of him how much longer he supposed our services would be
needed. His reply was: “I would like to have _you_ stay a good while.”
Mr. Elder was a very kind man, yet he was somewhat eccentric, and his
likes and dislikes very decided. Up to that time I had no reason to
believe that he had any preference for me over Mr. Pinney.
We worked a few days after the time of the incident narrated, when one
day he said to me that he would suspend work and go to Marysville for a
few days and he desired us to go with him. We had boarded with an
Englishman whom Mr. Elder had employed for that purpose, but he had
lived at the ranch or house of a Frenchman by the name of John Roulo,
located more than a mile down the river. Mr. Roulo had an Indian wife.
The Englishman was not a bad cook, but the principal diet for breakfast,
dinner and supper the week through was stewed beef. This beef was of
good quality and was very well cooked, but it did not agree with me for
a constant diet, with scarcely any other kind of food.
About this time we went to Marysville, and Mr. Elder took a trip to
Sacramento City to consult with some of the officers of the company for
whom we were at work, or they came to Marysville, I am not certain
which.
Mr. Elder desired me to remain and return with him. I made the
proposition that I would do so upon the condition that I should board at
the Frenchman’s, where he did. I confessed I could not stand the
Englishman’s stewed beef any longer. He said I could just as well board
at that place and might have done so if I had spoken about it to him. We
returned and I worked until the job was finished. Mr. Pinney did not
return with us.
There was in our party a Scotchman by the name of Campbell, one of the
Sidney convicts. He was quite agreeable when he was sober, but
sometimes he would get partially intoxicated, and then he was a bad man
to get along with. He appeared to be a man of good education and
understood surveying. Mr. Elder was obliged to be absent a part of the
time, and in his absence he made Mr. Campbell his foreman.
Sometimes when he had indulged too freely of whiskey, he would neither
work himself nor permit any one else. This did not suit me, as I
intended to labor just as faithfully in the absence of Mr. Elder as I
would if he were present.
One day when Mr. Campbell became quite drunk and foolish, and had
allowed but very little work to be done by the party until afternoon, my
patience had become exhausted. I undertook to drink from the waterpail
that was standing nearby under a large tree, when he gave the pail a
sharp tilt, which spilled some of the contents upon me. I started the
second time to drink from the pail and he repeated the same foolish
trick. After he had done this for several times, I dashed all the
remaining water in the pail squarely into his face. He at once became
almost frantic with rage, and seizing an axe threatened to cut me in
pieces. I kept myself a short distance beyond his reach, and laughed at
his threats.
I knew it was an easy matter for me to keep beyond his reach, but I
didn’t know how long his anger would continue to rage, or whether he
would revenge himself at some convenient time in the future when I might
not be expecting it. After a short time he ordered me to go to the river
near by and refill the pail with water, but he still held the axe in one
hand and the pail in the other. I invited him to put aside the axe and
give me the pail, which he finally did, and I immediately complied with
his request.
After Mr. Elder returned I spoke to him in relation to Mr. Campbell’s
actions, and he discharged him. The next winter I heard that he was
lynched at some place in one of the mountain valleys for horse stealing.
One incident I always remembered which took place while we were employed
on this job. When we were boarding at the French ranch, we carried a
lunch for our dinners, which we would eat while seated under a large oak
tree. One day we sat down in the shade of a large branching tree and ate
our dinner and rested ourselves perhaps nearly an hour. Upon starting
for our work we had gone but a short distance from the tree, where but a
moment previous we had been quietly seated, when we heard a loud crash,
and upon turning around we saw that a very large limb had broken from
the tree and had fallen exactly upon the spot where we had been seated
but a moment previous.
This branch at the point of breakage was more than a foot in diameter,
and probably contained nearly a cord of wood. There was not a breath of
wind stirring and the branch had broken from its own weight, being just
fully leaved out. It seemed to me to be a very narrow escape from a
serious accident. I afterwards learned from my own observation that it
was very often that limbs broke from such trees when loaded with leaves
and there was no wind stirring.
Mr. Elder seemed to manifest a deep interest in my welfare, and while he
was drafting the plan of the survey we had made, desired me to learn to
use the protractor, scale and dividers.
At that time I had no intention of taking up the business of surveying,
although from what little experience I had had with it, I thought I
would like the work very much. I practiced with the instruments as I had
the time to spare from my other work, and learned something about
protracting and the use of the scale and dividers.
Later in the same season I assisted Mr. Elder in laying out another
“paper city,” but it was not of so large extent as was the former one.
Not only was the winter of 1849-50 an excessive one in cold and storms,
but the year 1850 was the most trying in the history of the
gold-seekers. The struggles for the possession of titles to the claims
staked out by the prospecting miners reached a critical stage; the
cholera raged in every section of the Pacific slope--aye, spread from
ocean to ocean--and in addition to these and the trials and
uncertainties of life in the mines, where hundreds were losing to one
making, the Indians started upon the warpath.
Early in the summer, while I was at work at Bidwell’s on Feather River,
I witnessed the interesting and somewhat startling spectacle of a band
of her men decked out in all of the horrible panoply of savage warfare.
All were elaborately painted in striking colors and armed in Indian
fashion, bows and quivers, decorated in bright figures and filled with
sharp pointed arrows tipped with glass heads, knives and other
implements of a warlike nature.
These dusky forces were composed of the “Valley Indians,” as the native
inhabitants of the lowlands were called, among whom was a branch known
as the “Digger Indians,” and the mountain tribes that had their homes in
the Sierra Nevadas and adjacent highlands. The last named tribes were at
enmity with the first--a predatory warfare that existed for a long
period--a war as it seemed to the bitter end.
An Indian village was situated twenty or twenty-five miles from
Bidwell’s easterly in the Sierras, which I had frequently passed through
when I was prospecting in the Feather River gold mines.
One day about noon there suddenly appeared in this little mining
settlement a file of naked Indian warriors; forty or fifty in number,
nearly all young men in the vigor of manhood, all apparently sound, well
developed, beautifully proportioned, athletic men, the leader the most
conspicuous figure. They came into view traveling at a slow dog trot,
single file, each at a uniform distance from his file leader. No word
was uttered, and no one of them perceptibly turned his head to the right
or to the left.
As the foremost reached the river, which at that place was deep and of
considerable breadth, he stepped boldly and deliberately into the
current without the slightest hesitation, and swam quickly to the
opposite shore, where he again resumed the Indian trot of a few minutes
before. Even the river did not break the line or check the speed
materially, but the line was maintained and the speed was continued on
and up the steep mountain incline as on the level, without break or
hesitation, far, far up the rugged mountain trail as we could see,
their military order and discipline unbroken.
They were from a valley tribe and had suddenly come into view, passed
through the village, swam the river, climbed the mountain side, and
passed beyond our view in silence, bent on their errand of bloody
carnage and death. Determination, vengeance and savage destruction was
pictured on every brow.
Something of vital moment to the aboriginal population not far distant
was about to transpire. And it was not long delayed. It was learned a
little later that the Indian village in the mountains before mentioned,
was suddenly and sadly surprised on the night of the day that the war
party passed through Bidwell’s, and for the small Indian settlement it
proved a great slaughter or massacre of the men, while a large number of
the women and children were taken prisoners and conducted to new homes.
Some time in the spring, James M. Butler being somewhat out of health,
went to the Pelham camp to do the cooking for the company, where he
remained until late in the fall, when he returned to his home in Pelham.
I did some mining at Bidwell’s and one or two other places while we were
waiting for the water to subside. We visited our claim on the middle
fork of Feather River several times, and made preparations to work it as
soon as the state of the water would admit of doing it. We were obliged
to convey all the provisions needed there on our backs over the
mountains from Bidwell’s Bar, a distance of 25 or 30 miles.
It was some time in July when the water became sufficiently low so as to
admit of working the claim to advantage. At that time the companies that
had taken claims in the most favorable locations had succeeded in
getting a part of the water turned aside from the channel, so that they
had begun to work some of the beds of the streams. A few of those who
had succeeded in working any part of the river bed had found the claims
rich, but a very large majority of such mines were only paying very
moderately, and many were almost entirely worthless. Some companies that
had been at work all winter making preparations to turn a stream from
its bed, when at last they had succeeded at the cost of so much labor
and expense, found the bed of the stream so poor that it would not pay
the expense of working. This state of affairs was not encouraging for
us. As yet we had expended but little labor on our claim, but in loss of
time in making arrangements, going back and forth conveying provisions
and tools, with the loss of time in waiting for the water to subside,
all together made it a matter of considerable magnitude, reaching
probably two or three thousand dollars. However, it was not our purpose
to abandon our claim without a fair trial.
Instead of arranging to turn the whole stream at once, as we had
originally intended, we concluded to construct a wing dam, so as to be
able to test the paying qualities of the bed. If it should prove of such
richness as to warrant it, we could then build the dam as we had planned
and turn the whole stream. If it should prove of poor paying quality we
would abandon it.
Consequently, we constructed a wing dam so as to be able to turn the
water from a small part of the river bed so as to permit of working so
far as to be able to test the quality.
After completing this work, and washing the material from the river bed,
we found but very little gold, not sufficient to pay for working.
I would probably have had nearly or quite a thousand dollars more than I
did have at that time if I had kept at work and taken no part whatever
in or about any river claim.
The Pelham company worked their claim and it paid for working after the
stream was turned, but the returns as a whole were small, and the
company was dissolved in the fall.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE ILLUSION OF “GOLD LAKE.”
Many of the miners lost a whole season’s labor, and had no more than
they had the fall previous. In the early part of the season there was
quite an excitement at Marysville, and at the mines on Feather River,
known as the “Gold Lake” excitement.
This was caused by a man who told in some respects a very plausible
story or yarn. He said he had been a long distance east into the Sierra
Nevada mountains, where he had made the discovery of a lake where gold
was so plentiful that it could be gathered in almost unlimited
quantities.
He also said he was there at the lake for only a few days and that he
had gathered more than he could carry, and had secreted it.
Many believed his story to be all true, and the result was that quite a
large company was gathered and went away back into the mountains and
camped. Gold Lake was searched for but could not be found. It was said
that after getting back into the mountains the Gold Lake leader appeared
to be insane.
The result of the expedition was the discovery of Nelson’s Creek mines
on a stream emptying into the middle fork of Feather River, some 90
miles or more in the mountains.
Hearing of this discovery, which was said to be very rich, I concluded
to go and take my chances. This was before we had built our dam on the
old claim. Alden J. Nutting went with me, as I remember. We traveled up
there on foot, and in those days in California every one carried his
blankets, if nothing more. When we arrived at Nelson’s creek, we found a
large number of people already there, provisions scarce and high, and
although there were some very good mines, they did not appear to be very
extensive or lasting. We made a prospecting tour farther east among the
mountains for two or three days, but as we found no gold in paying
quantities, we soon after returned to the valley.
After we had abandoned our claim on the middle fork, I concluded to go
to Nelson’s Creek again. I started from Marysville and traveled up there
the second time. This was in August, and yet at one place we traveled
over a snow bank which we estimated was 25 feet deep. After arriving
there in company with one or two others, I selected a claim on the
middle fork of Feather River, a short distance below the mouth of
Nelson’s Creek, where the stream could be turned by a dam. We thought
there was a possibility that the river bed might be rich, and we
concluded to construct a small wing dam sufficient to test it. We put in
the dam so as to throw the water from a small portion of the river’s
bed. The claim proved as worthless as our first one.
I then traveled up Nelson’s Creek two or three miles and hired myself to
a company who had turned the creek from its course and was working out
its bed.
This was paying fairly well. If I remember correctly I was to have ten
dollars per day and board. The next camp below ours on the creek was
about 80 rods distant, where three men were at work. They were all from
Vergennes, Vermont, and were neighbors before they left home. They had a
paying claim and were doing well. As the stream between the two camps
passed through a small canyon, the trail was a rough one.
One Saturday night, about twelve o’clock, one of these men came running
up to our camp very much excited and out of breath, saying his two
partners had been killed. His version of the matter was that, as they
all lay asleep, two or three men had killed his two companions with a
hatchet while they slept, and that he was awakened by the noise of the
blows, to discover a man with a hatchet raised over his head, just in
the act of striking him the fatal blow. He had jumped to his feet and
run for his life. He had heard someone running after him, but from the
sound he thought his pursuer had fallen, and after that ceased to follow
him.
We immediately went to the stricken camp, but could do nothing that
night. The next morning we went down and found the two men in the creek.
We took them out and found their heads cut to pieces, and also found the
hatchet in the creek that was used by the murderers. The men were said
to have had a considerable quantity of gold, which they kept under their
heads. The gold could not be found.
We rolled the murdered men in their blankets as well as we could and
buried them on the side of the mountain.
It would perhaps be natural for some to suspect the survivor of the
three men as being the guilty murderer of the other two, and that seemed
to be the case to some extent, especially by those who knew but little
of the circumstances, while all those that were present when the
murdered men were found and buried, were of the opinion that he was
innocent of the crime.
On the next Sunday, one week after the two dead men were found and
buried, quite a company of men came into our camp, all being strangers.
Soon after they began to inquire in relation to the circumstances
accompanying the murders, and all such circumstances and conditions were
minutely gone into so far as was known.
After learning all that seemed to be possible to be known about the sad
matter, they quietly departed. We did not know their mission at the
time. Soon after we learned that they came from a small mining town, a
few miles distant. They heard of the murders, and of the circumstances
of the three men being camped together, two of whom were killed.
They had talked the matter over and discussed the circumstances
attending them, so far as they could learn them correctly at such a
distance, and at a public meeting. They had arrived at the conclusion
that the survivor of the three men was undoubtedly the murderer. The men
that came to our camp had been selected at the meeting for the purpose
of investigating the case, and to try the supposed murderer before Judge
Lynch, and if found guilty, execute him.
When they came over Sunday morning they supposed it would all be
completed and that they would return to their homes before night.
But after an investigation had been made by them, they came to the
conclusion that the companion who had made his escape was innocent.
At the time I left home for California in April, 1849, I was not in the
enjoyment of very good health. I was suffering somewhat from a cough,
and it distressed me to inhale a long breath. I did not feel strong and
robust. However, I had kept the matter a secret so far as was possible,
thinking that if my friends knew the conditions they would oppose my
going to California, and I was fully determined to go if possible and
take the consequences, whatever they might be.
This condition of my health continued in some degree for a considerable
length of time. While at Independence, Missouri, where we remained about
four weeks, my illness caused a pain in my side when I rode horseback.
The same was true after we had started on our journey over the plains.
It gradually wore away and long before we reached the Rocky Mountains,
my health seemed to be perfect.
It continued to be excellent during all the last part of the journey and
through the winter of 1849-50. I was more fleshy and of heavier weight
at that time than I had ever before been, or have been since. When
cutting wood at Yuba City I weighed more than 160 pounds, but during the
summer of 1850 I did not enjoy entirely uninterrupted good health.
Our work on Nelson’s Creek was very laborious. It lay in a mountain
gulch, deep down, where it was quite warm as long as the sun shone upon
us. I cannot at this time recall the exact length of time I worked
there,
[Illustration:
From an Old Print.
CUSTOM HOUSE ON THE PLAZA.]
but would say it was from two to three weeks. Whenever I labored in my
life, I always intended to keep up my end, or to perform my share of the
work. No fault was made known to me here.
However, I was not feeling as well as I could desire, especially toward
the close of my service there. Instead of feeling any improvement, I
grew steadily worse.
The last morning I went to my work I felt miserable, but thought I would
be able to overcome it, so I said nothing. I worked until noon when I
felt obliged to quit for the day.
There was at that camp a man by the name of Jewett, from some place in
Massachusetts, who the winter previous had stopped a while at the Pelham
camp. The tragic fate of the men so near our camp seemed to make Mr.
Jewett extremely nervous and timid. He seemed to be almost afraid of his
own shadow, and ever after the tragedy he was talking about going to the
valley, and from there to his home in New England. One obstacle to his
making an immediate start was that he lacked the courage to go alone.
Two or three days after I had quit work he found some parties that were
going to the valley, and as there was but two of them, he desired me to
go with them to enlarge the party, and as he seemed to believe, make it
safer.
I replied that as I was sick, probably I could not travel as fast as his
party would desire to go, but if I did not improve in health within a
few days, I thought I should go to the valley. I had no fear to travel
alone and would prefer to do so, as I could take my own time. He was
very urgent that I should go with him, and said as he had a pack horse,
he would carry my blankets and would make the journey as comfortable as
possible for me. I finally consented, almost against my better judgment.
This was near the last of August or the first of September.
We started on the morning of the next day after the arrangements had
been completed. His horse was at Onion Valley, about eight miles on our
way. From Nelson’s Creek up the mountain, about one and one-half miles,
it was very steep. That brought us to the top of the mountain. From
there we traveled to Onion Valley. There we took a little refreshments
and then packed the horse and started for Grass Valley, about 18 miles
distant.
Although the air on the mountain was cool, the morning was pleasant.
While in California I wore no coat. Shirts and pants were the clothing
worn, and during the rainy season when it was cooler we wore extra
flannel shirts. Blankets were much used instead of shirts when miners
were not at work. At that time I was dressed with a “Hickory” shirt and
thin pants, all cotton.
When we left Onion Valley my blankets were packed on the horse, as I
didn’t expect to need them on the road while walking.
Soon after we left Onion Valley it commenced raining, which soon after
turned into a wet snow. This melted nearly as fast as it fell, and being
thinly clad as I was, I was soon wet to the skin and very cold and
uncomfortable. I thought that if I could only get my blankets out of the
pack to put over my shoulders it would be much more comfortable, and
perhaps better for the health of a sick man.
I spoke to Mr. Jewett about it and he replied that he couldn’t get at
the blankets without unpacking the horse, and that he thought I could
get along without them. I said no more about the matter. We at length
arrived at Grass Valley, thoroughly drenched and almost exhausted.
While Mr. Jewett and his party were pitching the tent for the night, I
went into a cloth eating house and seated myself on a board before a
small fire burning on the ground. After being seated there for some time
I felt very faint. I could see nothing for several minutes and
everything looked black. I said nothing but kept my seat, which was near
the table. I soon recovered from the faintness and became partially
warm.
Supper was at length announced, but I did not desire to leave my seat,
neither did I feel like eating anything. I turned and faced the table,
ate a small piece of a cracker and drank a little tea, paid two dollars
for supper, and again faced the fire.
When it was nearly night I went over a short distance to Mr. Jewett’s
camp. He said I had the scurvy, but I didn’t think so. He wanted me to
get some potatoes and eat them raw, scraped in vinegar. He urged the
matter so persistently that I bought a pound of small potatoes, for
which I paid one dollar and a half, scraped some of them into vinegar
and made an effort to take them as medicine. It was too much like an
emetic for me. I threw away those I had prepared, gave the balance to
Mr. Jewett, and told him that rather than eat raw potatoes I would take
my chances with the scurvy. But, in fact, I did not believe I had the
scurvy, and later I was thoroughly convinced that I did not have it. Mr.
Jewett was very timid that night and very nervous.
Each one of the small party had some kind of firearms. I had a double
barrel shotgun, which was loaded with buckshot, but during the rain it
had become wet through so that it was impossible to discharge it without
giving it a thorough cleaning and drying. He desired me to put it in
thorough order and reload it. I told him I would not do it, that I was
about to lie down and make myself as comfortable as possible.
He said we were all liable to be murdered before morning. I said to him
that I felt no fear of it, and that I was willing to take the risk. The
night passed quietly away, and the next morning I felt slightly rested,
but no better otherwise. I had no appetite and was quite weak.
After Mr. Jewett and his party had eaten their breakfast, they packed up
and started for the next camp, which was twelve or thirteen miles
distant.
We soon fell in with another small party that was traveling the same
way, and Jewett was very much pleased to have their company.
I could not travel as fast as the party, and falling behind I traveled
alone nearly the entire distance. When I arrived at the camp I was
nearly exhausted. I did not at that time look for Jewett and his party.
They were preparing or eating their dinners a short distance away. But I
found my blankets where he unpacked his horse, and I lay down upon them
under a tree and soon fell asleep.
Not long after, I was awakened by Mr. Jewett, who said he wanted my
blankets to be packed. I told him he couldn’t have them any more, as I
was going no farther that day. He inquired the reason, and I said I
could go no farther until I had some rest. He asked me if I was sick,
and I asked him if he had just learned the fact. I had supposed he knew
it before we started, when he promised to be so kind to me if I would go
with him. He desired that I would permit him to take my gun with him,
and promised to leave it at the Pelham camp. I was glad to have him do
this as it would release me of that much load, and I was no more afraid
to travel there in the mountains unarmed at that time than I now fear to
travel the streets of Nashua in broad daylight.
This was the last I saw of Mr. Jewett. I afterwards learned that he went
to the Pelham camp, where he made a short stay. He soon after went to
San Francisco and started for home, as I remember, by way of Mexico, but
it was said he never reached his home. What his fate was I never knew.
It seemed very certain that his cowardice was a much more prominent
trait in his character than his hospitality. I remained over at the
place during that afternoon and night, and the next day and night. I
felt somewhat rested, but did not improve much in other respects. I
didn’t quite enjoy the place and thought I would try to make a little
progress toward the valley.
There were two or three stopping places on the road within eight or nine
miles, one of which was Strawberry Valley. I believe the first one was
about three miles distant. I settled my bill and started in the morning,
traveling leisurely and reached the first station, where I rested a
while. I then went to the next and also to the third. I had then made
about nine miles in all. Here I rested again, and at first thought I
would remain until the next day, the next stopping place being twelve
miles distant. As I didn’t just fancy this place, I concluded to start
for the next station, and should I become exhausted before reaching it I
could lie down with my blankets for the night by the side of the road in
the dense woods. These mountains were very heavily timbered.
I reached the place near night but I was very tired. This “ranch”
consisted of a cloth house, which contained a “bar,” table, a cooking
stove, with some other furnishings. Near by was a large tent in which
travelers could sleep upon the ground by paying two dollars for the
privilege.
I was glad to avail myself of even this meagre benefit, but I awoke
during the night suffering excruciating pains in my body and limbs. I
tried in vain to rise and stand upon my feet. I believe I never suffered
more severe pains than during that night. The next forenoon I succeeded,
after long and laborious efforts, to get upon my feet and move about a
little.
I remained here four or five days and had mended somewhat, so I was
contemplating resuming my journey, when I was surprised to see an old
acquaintance enter the tent. His name was George Carlton and he was from
Pelham, N. H., a man of somewhat rough manners but with a kind heart. He
was as glad to see me as I was him. It seemed that Jewett had informed
the party at Pelham camp of the fact that he had left me in the
mountains sick. There was no Jewett about Mr. Carlton. The following
morning, seeing that he was making preparations to leave, some one asked
him where he was intending to go. He replied that he was going into the
mountains to see if he could locate Webster. Some one of the company
(one of the Pelham men, I will not mention his name) said he did not
believe it to be wise for them to take into camp any more invalids. Mr.
Carlton made the reply that they had learned that Webster was reported
sick in the mountains, and that he was about to make an effort to find
him, and that if he was dead he would bury him, but if found alive, he
would bring him into camp. He started on foot and alone. At a station
below the place where he found me, he observed a mule straying about the
woods. It was a small animal, thin and of but little value. Mr. Carlton
gave the proprietor the circumstances, and he said he did not apprehend
that any owner would appear for the mule, and that he could take it if
he desired to do so. He led the mule as he had no saddle, and the little
brute was scarcely fit for a saddle animal. It was in the forenoon of
his second day out that Mr. Carlton found me. I bought a saddle from the
proprietor of the place, and we started for the Pelham camp. I rode the
little mule. We reached camp the next evening. Dr. Batchelder prescribed
some medicine for me, which I believe was the only time I employed a
physician during my stay in California.
I remained with my Pelham friends five or six days, improving in health
quite rapidly.
CHAPTER IX.
MINING ON THE YUBA RIVER
Some time after we had cut the hay I met Mr. Damon, my partner, when he
said that he had concluded to go to his home in the East for a short
stay, and he would return probably as early as the next winter or
spring. He desired me to sell the hay before the rainy season should set
in and retain his part of the proceeds until his return. I proposed to
send his share of whatever I should receive for the hay to him in the
East, but he said that it would be his wish that I would keep it until
his return.
One object I had in view when I left Nelson’s Creek was to attend to
selling the hay. While it would be some time before the rainy season
would set it, there was danger from fire. Everything in the valley was
as dry as tinder, and the hay was on the open plain where people were
passing back and forth to the mines and cities.
I concluded to make an effort to dispose of it. This was some time near
the end of September. I traveled from the Pelham camp to the place where
we cut and stacked the hay and found it to be safe.
I sold a small part of it to some one, and then went to Marysville. I
there managed to dispose of the balance on condition that the purchaser
should do the teaming, but that I should assist in the loading. The
distance it was to be drawn was 12 or 15 miles. As it would require
several days to do the teaming, and as there was no convenient place
near by where I could procure board, I concluded to board myself and
sleep on the hay. So I filled a half barrel with water, procured a
quantity of salt pork and other provisions, which I hired drawn to the
haystack.
I remained at that place and assisted the teamster in loading the hay,
otherwise I had no company with the exception of coyotes, of which there
were plenty.
These little animals of the wolf species were very numerous at this
time. They were not dangerous, but were mischievous. They were small in
size but they could make a great amount of noise. About the time it was
becoming dark every evening they would begin their howling. First, the
voice of one would be heard in some direction, which would seem to be
answered by another in another quarter, and then another and another
would follow, until there would appear to be a perfect chorus of voices,
howling and barking.
I had heretofore learned to keep completely out of their way as much as
was possible everything that I had that they would care to eat. However,
they soon found my quarters, and I would hear them in the night all
about near where I was lying. At first I took little notice of them. One
night I was awakened by more noise and disturbance than was usual, when
I arose to see what they were doing.
The moon shone brightly and I could see them in large numbers around and
very near me. I made an effort to drive them away but they would scamper
for a short distance only, when they would stand and look at me.
Upon making an investigation I found they had drawn my pork away a
considerable distance into the grass. It was in a sack and had been
almost under my head. They had also taken almost everything else that
they could find. I took the sack of pork and some of the other most
tempting articles I had to the top of the stack of hay, and after making
a hole in the pile and burying them about two feet deep, I made my bed
directly over them. In this way I succeeded in preserving them from the
coyotes.
The next morning I discovered that they had carried away almost
everything I had about the camp. They had dragged away to a considerable
distance a brand new rope, about 30 feet in length. A new tin pint
drinking dipper, a tin spoon, and other articles I found scattered about
in various directions, and they had even invaded my water cask and taken
the bung out.
I don’t now remember at what price I sold the hay, but believe it was
between $40 and $50 a ton, so we made a very fair job in cutting it.
Between the time of the disposal of the hay and the time of the setting
in of the rainy season, I cannot at this time give any detailed account
of my work.
Some time during the season, and I believe it was during this time, I
cut some more wood near Yuba City. At that time the steamboat company
did not wish to buy any green wood, but they said if we should cut some
and have it drawn out and piled on the bank of the river they would need
it after it had become seasoned. Some one, Worcester Gage of Pelham, as
I remember, cut with me. We cut quite a quantity and had it piled on the
river bank below Yuba City, near an Indian village.
About this time the cholera was raging among these Indians to a fearful
extent, and many of them died of the disease. It was their custom to
cremate their dead bodies, which they did by placing them on a pile of
wood and burning it. The flesh was burned, but the bones would remain
unconsumed, which they would gather up and deposit in a small hole in
the ground, dug for that purpose. When these bodies were being consumed
it created a very sickening odor. After the wood became seasoned it was
very convenient for these Indians to use for their domestic purposes,
and they carried away considerable quantities of it.
I once tried to frighten them, telling them that I would shoot the first
one that I should find in the act of removing any of the wood. It seemed
to me that there was not so much removed afterwards. Before the wood was
sold Mr. Gage went home to Pelham and left his share of the wood with me
to be disposed of and to forward to him his share of the proceeds. I
afterwards sold it and sent him his share of the money.
Some time during the fall, after I had sold the hay, I was traveling up
the road going toward Bidwell’s, when I heard a horse coming behind me,
and on looking back I saw some one riding toward me horseback that I
soon recognized as my friend Mr. Damon, though I had supposed he was in
the states. He soon overtook me and said he had been no farther than San
Francisco, where he had remained for some time, and had concluded to
return and not go East at present. On his reaching Marysville he had
learned that I had started for Feather River mines, and he came on after
me. I was not expecting him for several months and had made no plans to
pay him his share for the hay, but presumed of course that he would like
his money. I believe I was owing him something more than $400.
I explained to him the situation, and said that probably I did not have
enough with me to settle with him in full. He said he had anticipated
that situation and that I could pay him as much as I could conveniently
spare, or if I could not spare him any at that time it would be just as
well. After we had calculated the amount due him from me, we went into
one of the cloth hotels by the roadside near by and weighed out the
amount in gold dust that was his due, and which exhausted almost the
whole amount I had with me. He almost absolutely refused to take it
_all_ at that time, but I insisted and he did so. As he was then present
I desired to have the matter fully settled.
We then parted and he went toward Marysville, while I continued my
journey toward Feather River mines. I have no remembrance of ever
meeting Mr. Damon afterwards. He was a good man.
One incident that transpired during the spring of 1850 while I was in
the mines of Feather River: Several of us were camped there at the time,
one of whom was a man from some town in New Hampshire who crossed the
plains in company with us, and whose name as I now remember it, was
Watkins. He and I were taken at about the same time with a similar
illness, and one was substantially as ill as the other. I didn’t
apprehend that either of us was dangerously ill. Mr. Watkins soon lost
his courage and began to talk that the should never again meet his
friends at home. I endeavored to encourage him to the best of my
ability, but it seemed to have no beneficial effect whatever.
Soon after I began to improve, but he grew worse constantly and became
more despondent. We had a tent to camp in, but as it was previous to the
end of the rainy season, there was yet some damp, cold, stormy weather,
and it was cold in the tent.
That he might be made as comfortable as was possible, I constructed a
stone fireplace at the end of the tent and built a stone chimney to a
point a little higher than the ridge of the tent. This made it possible
to keep a fire so as to warm the tent and keep it dry and comfortable,
and it operated quite satisfactorily. Mr. Watkins seemed to be very well
pleased with the arrangements, but did not improve. I nursed him to the
best of my ability, but he steadily declined, and a few days later he
died.
We opened a grave in a convenient place, wound his blankets about him,
and buried him, which was all we could do for him. Poor Watkins! He had
gone to his home, but not to the home that seemed to be uppermost in his
mind.
One day in the fall of 1850, when I was in Marysville, there was an
auction at which horses were being sold. A very thin, rundown horse was
offered and as nobody made a bid, I started it at a small amount, and as
no one raised the bid, it was knocked down to me. After making a little
inquiry I learned that a man keeping a ranch a few miles out, took
horses to herd. I took the horse out there and engaged him to keep it
until I should call for it.
Some time in November, about the time the rainy season set in, I one
day met George Carlton at Marysville. He inquired what my plans for the
winter were. I had made no definite plans for the future. He suggested
that we go up on the Yuba, as I remember it was to Park’s Bar, possibly
it was Long’s Bar, and work with him during the rainy season at mining.
I consented to go with him. At this time I believe the Pelham company
had broken up and scattered. A few of the number had gone home or did so
soon after, and the others were at different places. The company had
made some money, but their mining claim did not yield anything near the
amount of gold that was expected of it.
Previous to this time I had met James M. Butler in Marysville on his way
to San Francisco and then to go home. I sent by him to my brother Moses
at Pelham 18¾ ounces of gold dust, which at $16 per ounce, the
California price, was worth $300. This was to pay the money borrowed to
pay the expenses to California in 1849. Mr. Butler went home by the way
of Mexico and had a hard journey. He arrived home in January.
Mr. Carlton and I went up the Yuba River and made a camp. I made a small
quicksilver machine for washing gold. It was of my own invention and I
had made one of the same kind before. It was made watertight, and when
working it the back end was set lower than the front end. The
quicksilver was worked in the rear end, and that end being the lowest
part of the machine, the quicksilver would remain there. When the gold
touched the quicksilver it would amalgamate and be held there, while the
gravel would be washed away and pass out at the other end of the
machine. It operated very satisfactorily.
The mines were not very rich at this place, but in good weather we could
each make from $8 to $12 dollars a day, and some days considerably more.
One advantage here over many other places was that the water did not
give us so much trouble, as the bar was larger and higher than many
others. The rainy season was not nearly so severe as was that of the
year previous. We could also procure better provisions. All eatables
were high, and that was to be expected, but they were of a very fair
quality. We could procure plenty of either Irish or sweet potatoes,
produced, I believe, at the Sandwich Islands.
Mr. Carlton cooked the meat and potatoes and I made and baked the bread
and washed the dishes. We passed a very comfortable winter.
At this place were two brothers by the name of Davis from Nashua, N. H.
The given name of the elder one I believe was Josiah. If I remember
correctly they both lived to return home, but both died not very long
after. Josiah died first. The younger one was not more than seventeen or
eighteen years of age at that time, but he was very active and smart.
They kept a store in quite a large cloth building very near our camp.
An elderly man from eastern Tennessee slept in the building. He was a
blacksmith and was probably a man who never accumulated very much
property during his life before he came to California. He owned a little
forge with a kit of tools and did jobs for the miners, for which he
received good pay, and he had accumulated already between $2,000 and
$3,000, all of which was in gold dust and which he constantly kept
secreted on the ground under his blankets where he laid. He was very
jolly and happy and probably then had more money than he ever
anticipated having.
Within the same building lodged a man from Virginia, a miner, a tall,
spare man, always good-natured, but somewhat taciturn or reserved, and
appeared to be an honest man, one which almost any one would not
hesitate to trust. The Davis brothers, and some others, also slept in
the same building.
I was very friendly with the Davis brothers, who by the way, were
brothers of the late S. S. Davis of Nashua. I was in the building quite
often when I was not at work.
One day Mr. Blacksmith came running from the building about breakfast
time, almost insane with excitement. Upon making inquiry as to the cause
of his grief he said some one had stolen all his purse of gold. At first
it was thought he had probably mislaid it, and that it would be found
where he had put it.
An investigation was made at once, after which all present were
satisfied that a theft had been committed by some one, but who the
guilty party was no one could seem to determine.
The first thing to be done was to make a thorough search of every person
known to have been in the building that morning. That was done, and as I
had been into the place, I was searched with the others, but the search
revealed nothing.
There was a man there of rather eccentric character, who was also mining
on the bar. He made quite
[Illustration:
From an Old Print.
VIGILANTES IN ’49.]
numerous inquiries, during which it was brought out that the Virginia
man went to the river quite early that morning for a pail of water.
After leaving the route he took, the eccentric man took the trail and
followed it to near the river, where he discovered some traces or tracks
leading from the trail a short distance to a place where the sand had
been disturbed, as appeared, with some one’s hands.
He didn’t disturb it or even go to the place, but immediately returned
and made report of his discovery. A party soon after went with him, and
digging away the sand at the spot of the disturbance, the blacksmith’s
bag of gold was revealed.
It was carried to the camp and Mr. Blacksmith was asked to identify his
bag of gold, which he had lost. This was before he knew there was any
prospect of ever recovering it. This he readily did, and when it was
placed in his hands he was as happy a man as I ever saw. He was so
overjoyed that he wanted to give one-half of it to those that found it.
However, the incident so shocked him that he concluded to return
immediately to his home in Tennessee, where he had a daughter. Soon
after he left for home.
The evidence against the Virginian seemed to be quite conclusive. He was
the only person known to have pursued that trail to the river that
morning, and the footprints in the sand agreed very perfectly with his
boots. “Judge Lynch” was soon summoned to hold a court. The court was
organized and the Virginian was arraigned. The evidence was very
damaging, but was circumstantial and not entirely positive, every one
present and hearing the evidence seemed to believe him to be the guilty
party. The verdict of the court was to the effect: That he was probably
guilty of committing the robbery, but as there was room for a little
doubt, he was entitled to that doubt. He was not sentenced to be
executed at once, provided he would leave the bar immediately,
otherwise, he must suffer the penalty. He immediately left and I never
again saw or heard of him.
We remained at that place until near the end of March, 1851. I believe I
enjoyed our stay here better than any other time of the same length
during my time in California. My health was fairly good; we made average
pay, and had good company.
About this time we concluded to go to San Francisco, where neither of us
had yet been.
Mr. Carlton had been talking continually about going to farming in some
of the coast valleys, which at that time seemed to be paying good
returns. We started for Marysville.
At that time the Yuba River was quite high, swollen by recent rains, and
we were obliged to make the crossing at a ferry. At the place of the
ferry the current was rapid and strong, and immediately below were falls
or rapids, full of immense boulders.
The ferry boat was a large one, made for the purpose of carrying teams,
mules and horses, as well as foot passengers. It was held at its place
and guided across the river by a large rope made fast over the river. At
this high stage of water only foot passengers were ferried over. The
rope was a large one, but I noticed that it was quite old and
considerably worn.
There were several fellow passengers with us in crossing. As soon as we
were fairly in the stream I noticed there was a heavy strain on the
rope, and it seemed to me it was liable to part at any second. I looked
at the whirling, boiling stream below, that I might, if possible, make
some consistent attempt to save myself in case the rope should part and
we should go over the rapids.
I could see no possibility of escape for any one aboard in that event. I
uttered not a word until we had landed safely on the opposite shore,
when I made the inquiry of the ferryman if he considered the rope used
to be safe for the purpose at that stage of water. He said he believed
it to be perfectly safe. I told him I could not be hired at any price to
recross the stream again under like conditions, as I did not consider
the rope safe.
I afterwards learned that on the following day, while thirteen men were
crossing in the same boat, the rope parted and every one of the men,
including the ferryman, were drowned.
We went to Marysville, and I continued on to the ranch where I had left
the horse the fall previous. Upon inquiring for my horse of the
proprietor, he went out to the range and returned with a sleek, fat
black horse that did not seem to resemble in any way the one I had left
there, except in color. At first I could not believe it to be the same
animal, but I accepted his word, and after settling for its keeping, I
rode it away. It was a very handsome horse. As Mr. Carlton also owned a
horse we rode down the valley on horse back to Sacramento City, where we
left our horses and took a steamer for San Francisco.
At that time there were as many as three quite large steamers constantly
running between Sacramento and San Francisco. One company was running
the “Senator” and “New World,” both of which I believe formerly were run
between Boston and Bangor, and had been taken around Cape Horn to San
Francisco. The other was the Hartford, a slower and older boat. The fare
I don’t remember, but it was not so much on the Hartford as on either of
the other two boats. We took passage on the Hartford.
This was near the time that the excitement in regard to the Vigilance
Committee was at its height. Several persons had been tried and executed
in San Francisco, and considerable excitement existed there. The civil
law had taken the place of lynch law, and had been in operation several
months.
Murders, robberies and other crimes were of almost every-day occurrence.
The courts had failed in most cases to make convictions, and the
criminals, especially in such cases where they possessed a considerable
amount of wealth, went free and unpunished. Life or property had become
very unsafe almost anywhere. The Vigilance Committee soon caused a far
different and a much better state of affairs. Many were the cases in
which the evidence against the prisoner would seem conclusive, but the
verdict would be “not guilty.” The prisoner would be immediately seized,
taken to the rooms of the committee and there tried and convicted and
executed, and all within the space of a short time after he had been
cleared by the court.
Several such cases took place while we remained in San Francisco, which
was several days.
We went out to the old Mission Dolores, and to what has been later
called Seal Rocks. We continued our journey down the valley and made
some investigation in regard to lands for farming purposes. We learned
that all those lands were claimed under old Spanish or Mexican grants,
which at that time had not been settled or adjusted by the United States
government, consequenty we abandoned the scheme of farming and returned
to Marysville.
We soon after parted and I have no remembrance of ever meeting Mr.
Carlton after that time. He never returned to his home in New Hampshire,
but died in California a few years later.
CHAPTER X.
WITH COMPASS AND CHAIN IN OREGON
I had occasionally met Mr. Elder, and about this time he informed me
that a surveyor general had been appointed for the territory of Oregon;
that he was a man from Illinois, with whom he was well acquainted, and
that he would probably be at San Francisco on his way to Oregon in a few
weeks.
It was his intention to meet the official in San Francisco, expecting to
make arrangements to go to Oregon and do some work on the government
surveys. He also said to me that if he should do so, he would like to
have me go with him. I did not decide at that time to go.
About that time I met Mr. Pinney in Marysville. I believe he had been
cutting wood at Yuba City for some time previous. During the late summer
or autumn previous he was employed with others at some place on or near
Nelson’s Creek, where they had struck a good claim and had taken out
quite an amount of gold. I never learned the exact amount, but supposed
it to be from $4,000 to $5,000 for his share. Some time while chopping
he had boarded at Yuba City with a Rev. Mr. George H. Hanson.
Mr. Hanson and a Mr. Bayliss, who kept a hotel at Yuba City, owned the
ferry across Feather River at that place. Pinney informed me that Mr.
Hanson desired to let him the contract to excavate a road from the boat
landing on either side of the river up through the banks so as to permit
of teams passing to better advantage. If I would contract with him for
doing the work, he thought we might do well.
We looked the situation over and found the cut on the Yuba City side
would be light, but that on the Marysville side was quite deep. I
suggested to Mr. Pinney that the better plan would be that Mr. Hanson
should set his stakes so that we could know just what would be expected
from us to complete the work. Mr. Hanson proposed that the road should
be at a true grade from the shore to a certain point, about 150 feet
distant, and should be of sufficient width to permit the passage of two
teams when meeting, the banks to be properly sloped.
After considerable discussion relative to the depth of the cut, which I
claimed would be twelve feet, he replied that he knew it could not be
more than nine feet deep, and made the following expression in his
western dialect: “You needn’t for to dig it more than nine feet anyhow.”
We made the contract to do the work with the understanding that we would
not be required to excavate over nine feet in the deepest place, but it
was not written out. We bought some shovels and the next day we
commenced the work. The material to be removed was all fine sand and was
good shoveling. We began at the waters edge and threw it into the river
and it was washed away by the current. We made the sand fly fast and we
made a large showing on the first day.
After we had worked away from the river so that we could no longer
throw the sand into the water, we used wheelbarrows. This was a very
much slower process.
We made the cut nine feet deep at the deepest point and finished it in
width so that two teams could easily pass each other, but Mr. Hanson
then claimed that it must be on a true grade. This would at least add
one-third to the amount of work. But as we had no written contract, we
concluded that the better way out of it was to make the cut as he
proposed.
Another matter that came into controversy later was about the width. At
the time the contract was made, when Mr. Hanson said the cut must be of
sufficient width for two teams to pass, I made the remark that that was
very indefinite, and made the request that he should give the number of
feet required at the bottom of the cut, and he did so.
About this time Mr. Pinney received a letter from Pelham, N. H., which I
suppose was from a Miss Young, with whom he had formerly been somewhat
intimate, and whom he married later. This letter seemed to have such an
effect upon him that he lost all interest in the work, and a few days
later proposed to me that I should pay him for his share of the work
completed. He said he had concluded to start for home at once. I pleaded
in vain that he should remain until our contract was finished.
I paid him for his interest and he started for San Francisco. We
supposed the contract to be nearly finished. I had met Mr. Elder and he
informed me that he had met the surveyor-general of Oregon, John B.
Preston of Illinois, in San Francisco. Mr. Preston was not the first
man appointed, the other having declined to accept the office.
Mr. Elder had been employed as assistant engineer on the Michigan and
Illinois canal in Illinois by the new surveyor-general. He said Mr.
Preston had promised him work on the government survey. He intended to
go to Oregon a little later and desired me to go with him. I agreed to
go.
I continued to work on the job and at length finished it, as I supposed.
I had made the cut a true grade from the river to the point agreed upon,
which made it 13 feet deep at the deepest point. The width was the
number of feet stated by Mr. Hanson, but it was not quite wide enough to
permit of two teams passing each other.
I had also finished the cut on the Yuba City side as was agreed upon,
and I supposed that Mr. Hanson would be willing to accept the work and
pay the amount agreed upon. I informed him that the contract was
completed and requested him to examine it.
We went to the Marysville side, and after measuring the bottom of the
deep cut Mr. Hanson said it was not sufficiently wide to permit two
teams passing each other. I reminded him of the conversation in relation
to the matter when the number of feet was given by him, but he could
recollect nothing in relation to that matter. He insisted that it must
be made considerably wider before it would be accepted. After having
done about one-third more work than we really had contracted to do, to
be required to make the cut two or three feet wider, when it was 150
feet long and 13 feet deep at the deepest point, seemed to me to be
asking too much. But I found him determined not to pay for the work
unless I yielded. I concluded to keep quiet and make the widening as he
proposed.
I made the alteration as he had suggested and again I informed him that
the contract was completed. Again he went with me to the place of the
cut, and also Mr. Bayliss was with us.
Mr. Hanson began to measure and also to find fault with the work,
claiming that the job was not nearly completed. He said he would not pay
me until considerable more was done.
I could endure it no longer, and I said to Mr. Hanson that he was the
meanest man I had had any dealings with in California. Thereupon, he
became almost frantic, and he immediately drew the square over my head.
It was a heavy carpenter’s steel square. He exclaimed that if I uttered
another word he would split my head open! I immediately repeated the
remark. Of course, it was not my intention to stand there quietly and
permit him to cleave my head open, as he had threatened to do. But I
stood still nevertheless, intending, if he attempted to strike me, to
pursue the course that might seem to be best under the existing
conditions. He threw down the weapon and said he would never pay me a
dollar for the work until I had done a large amount more to finish it.
Determined not to yield now, I replied I had already removed about twice
the amount of earth the contract called for at first; that he had
continually lied about it; that no dependence whatever could be placed
on his word or veracity; that he was a very unjust specimen of a man;
and that I would never remove another shovelful of earth for him.
He went away saying he would never pay me a cent. I was as fully
determined I would do no more work on the job under any conditions. At
first I thought I would sue him for the amount due me. After considering
the matter for a day or two I concluded I would see what could be done
with Mr. Bayliss, his partner, about the matter. I had been acquainted
with him for a number of months, and had considered him an honest man.
He had no part in making the contract so far as I was concerned. I went
to him one day and informed him that I was about to go to Oregon and
that I should like to settle the matter. As he was a partner with Mr.
Hanson in the ferry, and I had always believed him to be a reasonable
man, I had come to him to talk about the matter. Mr. Bayliss listened to
my statements very kindly, but said he regretted the conversation that
had taken place between Mr. Hanson and myself. If that had been
otherwise he thought the matter might have been adjusted with little
trouble, but Mr. Hanson was a very passionate man, and as he was then
feeling toward me, he would not agree to any settlement that would be
satisfactory to me. He said it would be of no use whatever to undertake
to have Mr. Hanson agree to pay the full amount of the contract price,
but provided I would consent to make a small discount he would see what
arrangement could be made with him. When I again met Mr. Bayliss a
little later, the proposed settlement had been agreed upon and he paid
me accordingly.
I soon after left Marysville for San Francisco, on my way to Oregon. At
San Francisco I met Mr. Elder and also Mr. Pinney, who had been waiting
here all this time for the sailing of the steamer for Panama. He
expected now to sail within two or three days. He might as well have
remained and assisted me finishing the contract.
Mr. Pinney had brought his gold with him. It had been put up in several
buckskin bags. After his arrival in San Francisco, instead of depositing
it in one of the banks for safe keeping during his stay in the city, he
had buried it in the sands of one of the vacant lots of the city.
When he went to recover it he failed to find it, when he became
thoroughly alarmed. After a more thorough search, however, he found it.
He said it had been removed from the place where he first deposited it
and had been buried in another place. It was in vain I tried to make him
believe that if anybody had taken the gold from its hiding place he
would have carried it away, instead of concealing it in a new place, and
he would never have got his hands on it again. While he admitted the
force of the argument, he said he was perfectly sure that he found it in
a different location from where he placed it. He said he was very
nervous when he failed to find his fortune where he had buried it.
Almost any one would be nervous under similar conditions. However, it
was always my opinion that he found it at the exact spot where he had
placed it, but that he had mistaken the locality. Probably Mr. Pinney’s
deposit of gold did not weigh less than from twenty to twenty-five
pounds, which would make an awkward pocket companion.
I had been in California two winters and one summer, or a little over
nineteen months. As a whole I had enjoyed my experiences quite well.
We remained in San Francisco a few days, waiting for the sailing of the
steamer for Portland, Oregon, and left on Wednesday, June 4, 1851, in
the Pacific mail steamer.
After we had passed out through the Golden Gate into the Pacific ocean,
the sea became quite rough, but as I had never been on the ocean before,
I did not realize it was any rougher than usual. Nearly all the
passengers were seasick. I thought I should escape, but in the evening I
also became a victim. The seasickness stood by me for two or three days,
and was the only time, with one exception, I was ever afflicted that
way.
We passed over the bar at the mouth of the Columbia river on Sunday,
June 8th, and arrived at Portland, Oregon, on Monday the 9th, where we
remained over night.
On Tuesday, June 10th, we passed up the River Willamette, about twelve
miles, to Oregon City, in a small, open iron steamer, that probably
might safely carry 15 or 20 passengers.
At the time we arrived in Oregon the surveys had been commenced by two
parties. The meridian and base lines had to be established and run for
greater or lesser distances before any other surveys could be made.
The surveyor-general had taken with him from the states several
experienced surveyors and quite a number of other persons to engage in
the surveys. A point near Portland was selected from which to the
commence the meridian and base lines. Mr. James E. Freeman, a man who
had been a deputy surveyor in Wisconsin, had been awarded the contract
to run the meridian line south from Portland, and William Ives, another
experienced government surveyor, had taken the contract to extend the
meridian line north from the same point to Puget Sound. These parties
were engaged at running the meridian line at the time of our arrival in
Oregon, and had all the assistance needed, so there was no prospect for
any work on the surveys for me for an indefinite time.
I had been studying surveying when an opportunity presented itself, but
knew practically nothing of the government system of public surveys.
There seemed to be but little work to be had at Oregon City, and board
was quite high.
Mr. Elder was engaged by the surveyor-general as chief clerk in the
surveyor-general’s office. I was a stranger to the surveyor-general and
all his deputies that he brought with him, and I knew that he would
provide places for all his own party before a stranger like myself would
receive any attention. Yet, I knew Mr. Elder was a good friend to me,
but as he was engaged in the office, the prospect seemed to be that he
would have no contract, consequently could give me no assistance that
was most needed by me. It seemed to me that I had made a mistake in
leaving California, and I thought seriously of returning. But through
Mr. Elder’s encouragement I was induced to remain.
We boarded at a hotel which was one of two kept in Oregon City, where
board was six dollars a week, or one dollar and fifty cents per day.
One little incident that transpired while at this hotel I will relate to
show how sometimes people injure themselves in being too sharp in small
affairs. At the time I came to this hotel it was quite uncertain what
length of time I should remain. So I had an understanding with the
landlord that if my stay should be a week or more, the price would be by
the week, but should it be less than a week, I should pay the price by
the day.
After remaining for about three days, I concluded to leave for a time,
and as it was uncertain when I should return, I settled my board bill,
paying the day price. It so happened that I returned on the evening of
the same day, and occupied my room as before. I then remained during the
remainder of the week and some days over. When I came to settle my board
with the landlord he presented a bill made up by the day price for the
time after I had paid him.
I claimed the agreement was, if I remained for a whole week, or seven
days or more, that the price should be by the week, and that the fact
that I settled with him and made a payment at the middle of the week did
not change the matter, so far as right and justice was concerned. At the
time of the former settlement I paid him a part of a week’s board, and
that now I was to pay him the balance. But he failed to see the matter
in that light, and claimed the day price.
Consequently, I paid him on his basis by the day, but I left him to
board at the other hotel, “Mosses,” where I ever after stayed when in
Oregon City.
Soon after arriving in Oregon I went south up the Willemette valley
among the farmers, thinking possibly I would find some work for a time,
but as I found no employment, I returned to Oregon City after a few
days.
Some one informed me that a mill was being erected on the Tualitan
River, a few miles from Oregon City, and that the owner of the mill
needed some more help.
I went to the location where the mill was being built and engaged to
work for three dollars a day and board for a short time. I commenced
work on Monday, June 30th. The labor was very hard, it being on a dam
across the stream, which was being constructed of stone, brush and
gravel. All of this material had to carried by hand.
I labored on the dam for twelve days, when it was nearly completed, and
the proprietor, Mr. Madden, discharged a considerable part of his help.
He had other work to be done in building the sawmill and its
foundations, etc. He said to me he should pay his laborers only two
dollars per day after that date, but that if I would remain he would pay
me two dollars and fifty cents. I continued on the job until the 3d day
of August.
About this time Mr. Elder one day came over to see me and informed me
that he had contracted with the government to resurvey Oregon City and
desired me to assist him in the work. At that time he had very little
work in the office, as none of the surveys had been completed. I went to
Oregon City, but it was some time before he was prepared to commence the
job of resurveying the town. In the meantime I was pursuing the study of
surveying in earnest.
[Illustration: MINERS STARTING FOR HOME.]
We commenced the survey on Thursday, August 21st, and completed it on
September 29th, making an entirely new survey and setting the bounds,
which was authorized and approved by the United States government.
While at work on the Tualitan River, the last part of my work there had
been on the river, clearing it from sunken timbers and obstructions, so
as to permit logs being floated down to the mill.
During the time that I was engaged on the Oregon City survey for Mr.
Elder, the contracts had been let to survey township lines, one to
Butler Ives, a brother of William Ives, dated August 15; one to William
Ives, dated September 10; and one to James E. Freeman, dated September
17. These contracts provided for the surveying of the exterior lines of
twenty townships, within the most thickly settled part of the Willamette
valley, and principally south of Oregon City, reaching as far south as
Township No. 10, or near to Albany on the Willamette River.
Mr. Elder made arrangements with Mr. Freeman, when the work at Oregon
City should be completed for me to go out and work for him. Mr.
Freeman’s contract included some of the Willamette and Santiam Rivers,
and extended southerly so as to include townships 6, 7, 8, 9 and 10
south of range 1 west, and townships 9 and 10 south of ranges 2, 3 and 4
west, with a part of the 2d standard parallel south. This work was from
30 to 50 miles south of Oregon City.
After the Oregon City work had been completed, I left the place and
traveled on foot and alone southerly to the point where Mr. Freeman’s
party was at work, and found them without trouble. Mr. Freeman had five
or six men in his party, a part of whose names I yet recall.
Zenas F. Moody from Chicopee, Mass., who went to Oregon at or about the
same time as the surveyor-general. He was young, only 20 years of age.
He afterwards became governor of Oregon for four years. Another was
George W. Hyde, a brother-in-law of Mr. Preston, the surveyor-general;
and another was Allen F. Seymour, of New York state, all of whom went to
Oregon with the party of Mr. Preston, and had worked with Mr. Freeman on
the meridian line. Mr. Moody and Mr. Seymour were chainmen.
All the government public land surveys were required to be made with
Burt’s patent solar compass. This was an instrument that was guided by
the sun instead of the magnetic needle, and was of far greater accuracy.
It was provided with a needle that could be used when it was impossible,
from any cause, to make use of the sun.
The township lines were all required to be surveyed by the sun, but
subdivisions were permitted to be made in part by the needle, at such
places where local attraction did not exist to great extent. At this
time I knew nothing whatever in regard to the working of the solar
compass. I had never even seen the instrument. It is very reliable, but
is provided with several arcs, which must be constantly adjusted; the
most important of these are the latitude arc and the declination arc.
The exact latitude, even to one minute of a degree, of the place of
work, must be set off on the latitude arc, and the declination of the
sun, north or south, must be set off on the declination arc, also to the
exact minute for the month, day and hour, otherwise the instrument
would not give the true meridian of the sun.
The next morning after I came into camp Mr. Freeman told me to take the
axe for that day. He also told me to blaze the trees that stood on each
side and near to the line as run by the compassman where there were
trees, and to prepare posts for the section and quarter-section corners.
I have a distinct recollection of feeling considerably embarrassed, as I
did not fully comprehend all the duties I was expected to perform. It
was all new to me.
The line was started and the first tree that needed to be marked was
blazed on the proper side, but I made it quite low down. I went along
the line a short distance and turned about, facing the tree I had
marked. It at once occurred to me that the purpose of blazing those
trees was for a guide by which to follow the lines, and that marks
should be made sufficiently high so as to be readily seen at a distance,
and that afterwards I would make the marks higher up on the trees.
While I stood looking at the marked tree, Mr. Freeman said: “Make the
marks a little higher on the trees.” Mr. Hyde gave me some instructions
as to what the corner posts should be, and how they should be prepared,
and I soon became familiar with the duties of an “axeman.” I continued
to perform these duties for several weeks, until one day Mr. Freeman
said to me that perhaps I might think it strange he kept me as axeman so
long. He had not at first intended to do so, but they had tried two or
three before I came and could not make them understand the work. As I
had done it so well he had hesitated about making a change.
This was the first time that I had known if I had given even ordinary
satisfaction. I said to him that I was satisfied, that I had enjoyed the
work, and that I felt greatly pleased if I had given satisfaction.
Mr. Freeman was not an expert mathematician, and as I had studied
trigonometry pretty thoroughly, I could calculate distances very readily
by logarithmic sines. There were many triangulations to make and
distances to calculate across rivers and bayous. When I first began work
for Mr. Freeman, he requested that I would make the calculations of the
distances with him. He would work them by the traverse table, and I by
logarithmic sines. Sometimes we would agree in our results, but very
often we would obtain different results, and in such cases we would each
go over the work again. In almost every such instance the error was
found in his work.
After a time he gave up making all such calculations and trusted it
wholly to me, unless they were of a very simple character.
Mr. Hyde left the party soon after I began work for Mr. Freeman. He
assisted him in making the calculations before I came. It was very
important that the work of the calculations of these triangulations and
distances should be done correctly, as a small error was liable to cause
much trouble later, and sometimes might cost hundreds of dollars to
correct.
We continued the work, but in November, previous to the finishing of the
contract, the rainy season began and there was much rainy and cloudy
weather, so the survey was continued under considerable difficulty.
About November 20 Mr. Freeman concluded to go to Oregon City. The
contract was not completed, but with favorable weather it could be
finished in a short time. Mr. Freeman went to the surveyor-general’s
office at Oregon City to return the field notes of the surveys he had
completed, and to get a contract for subdivisions.
The camp was broken up and he discharged all his help, excepting Mr.
Moody and myself. He authorized us to remain and await his return, and
to board with a family, and see to the pack horses. In case it should
become fair weather previous to his return, so the solar apparatus could
be used to advantage. I could try to survey a new township line. I had
not at that time undertaken to make any surveys with the solar compass,
though I had been learning by observation about its workings.
The first week after Mr. Freeman’s departure the weather continued
cloudy or rainy the greater part of the time, and we could do no work on
the township line, but one of the settlers desired me to make a survey
of his claim, which was one mile square. This could be done by the
needle. The lines were to be made to conform to the cardinal points, due
north, south, east and west, but otherwise were not required to conform
to the public surveys. I agreed to survey it for him, and after the
starting corner was pointed out, we began the work. This was my first
experience in surveying any lengthy line, my experience having been on
city lots. We were to survey around one square mile, making four equal
side, each one mile in length. Of course, I felt some nervousness about
the closing. Should errors be made they would show at this point. About
one-half of the land was in the prairie, and the balance in timber land.
I managed the compass, and Mr. Moody, with another man, were chainmen.
The man for whom we were making the survey remarked that he supposed I
had had a good deal of experience in that kind of work. I did not inform
him that I was then engaged in making my maiden survey. When we had
surveyed three sides of the quadrangle, and were running toward the
starting point on the fourth, or last side, the owner began to predict
about where we would come out in relation to the point of beginning.
He declared there would be quite a wide distance from the point of
beginning. This, as was natural, caused me to be more nervous. However,
I made no reply, and when the survey was completed, it proved to be a
very satisfactory close. This gave me more confidence, and as another
man near by desired a similar survey made, we made that with equal
satisfaction.
About the second week of Mr. Freeman’s absence the weather cleared up
and the sun shone, and Mr. Moody and myself started the survey of the
township line. I was compassman, as before, and assisted him in making
the measurements with the chain. This was an east and west line, six
miles long, and was run as a “random line,” as they were called. All
east and west lines were random lines, as at first surveyed, and were
afterwards corrected according to the amount of error found in closing.
Later I surveyed many township lines, but I believe that was the most
difficult one I ever surveyed. Soon after we commenced it we ran into
the Santiam bottom and river, and the line followed the stream, crossing
and recrossing almost the entire distance. The impassible parts of this
line of six miles, which was measured by us by triangulations and
offsets, amounted to very nearly, if not quite, one-half of its entire
length.
It was a tedious and discouraging task for a beginner. But we worked
upon it steadily, when the sun favored us, and at the end of nearly a
week we reached the town corner. I had run a due west line, and at the
end fell farther from the corner than I had expected. Consequently, I
did not feel fully satisfied with the outcome of my work.
We did not correct the line, however, as I supposed Mr. Freeman would
make a new survey when he should return. In fact, we had no time to
correct the line, as Mr. Freeman returned after an absence of about two
weeks. I explained to him what we had accomplished during his absence,
and how the township line had closed. After he had made an examination
of his field notes of the closing six miles farther north, he said it
was really the best close that had been made on that contract, it having
closed with less variation, as compared with the parellel line six miles
north of it. We soon after finished the contract.
While at Oregon City Mr. Freeman took the contract to subdivide
townships 9 and 10 S. range, 1 west; 8 and 9 S. range 2 W. and 9 S.
range 3 W., it being a part of the townships of which we had surveyed
the exterior lines. This contract was dated November 28, 1851.
After we had finished the first contract we began the subdivision. There
were 60 miles of surveys of subdivisions in each township. At first I
acted as one of the chainmen with Mr. Moody, and Mr. Freeman was
compassman. Soon after we had started, however, Mr. Freeman asked me to
relieve him so as to give him time to write up his field notes. The
result was before we were half done I was compassman substantially all
the time, and so continued until the contract was completed.
The winter of 1851-52 was quite a rainy one in Oregon, and some time
during the rainy season Mr. Freeman concluded to dispense with the camp
and depend upon the settlers for accommodations. Nearly all the settlers
held their claims under the Donation Law, so called, passed by Congress
September 27, 1850.
These claims principally consisted of 640 acres, equal to one square
mile of land, which, when taking account of the lands unsettled, caused
the residences to be at a considerable distance from each other,
generally from one-half mile to three miles.
In some respects this arrangement of seeking accommodations with the
settlers was satisfactory, and in other respects it was not. In many
instances, after our work for the day had been completed, when we were
wet and hungry, we were obliged to travel from two to four miles before
reaching a house. The houses there at that time were log cabins, the
great majority of which contained but one room, with perhaps a small
“loft.”
So, many times when we reached the first house after a long walk, and
made the inquiry if we could be accommodated with supper, lodging and
breakfast, or in western language: “If we could get to stay over
night?” the reply almost invariably would be: “We have no accommodations
to keep folks.” At the next house we probably could “get to stay,” as
they “kept folks.” The estimate of the distance to the next house was
almost invariably given at not more than one-half of the actual
distance. When we at length arrived at the next house a similar story,
in most cases, would be told, so that on some occasion we traveled until
quite late in the evening before we could succeed in finding lodging for
the night. The next morning we were obliged to retrace the same road to
reach the place where we had quit work the evening previous. These
people, however, were very hospitable and could not be censured with
justice. A majority of them were immigrants from Missouri and other
western states, and many of them had lived on the frontier during their
whole lives.
In many cases where we stopped for the night, the cabin contained one
room only, of a fair size, say 15 by 20 feet, and the family would
consist of man and wife, and from five to ten children, in some
instances including two or three girls nearly women grown. Of course,
families so situated could not be expected to have accommodations for
three or four tired, hungry men. However, in many cases we would prevail
upon them to consent to keep us, and they would do the very best that
they were able to do under the existing conditions.
They would divide their bed, putting the feather bed on the floor for
the use of their guests. This was done for us in many instances. After
managing in this way for a time, and becoming familiar with the ways
and manners of the people, I knew much better how to manage the matter
of getting kept over night. I learned that if we should assume a simple
“No” with excuses, more or less elaborate, was to be taken as a final
refusal, that we would find very few places of accommodations.
Later I made it a point to get into the inside of the house before the
request was made for accommodations for the night. I would not even
await an invitation to step inside, but no sooner than the door was open
I would at once enter, if possible, without being conspicuously
ungentlemanly. Sometimes I would inquire for a drink of water and gain
admission thereby. Once inside I found the battle more than half won. We
could then almost always induce the good people to keep us.
The surveying of the public lands may be thought by many to be light,
easy work, but it is really hard and rough. The surveyors are subjected
to much exposure, especially in the winter or rainy season.
The winters in Oregon, as in California, are called “rainy seasons.”
There is much rainy weather and some snow, but the snows are usually
damp and soon melt away in the valleys. The weather is seldom very cold,
but is sometimes cold enough to cause thin ice to form on the surface of
standing water.
During the rainy season in Oregon the small streams were full and all
the sloughs and swampy places were at times overflowed with water. At
that time ferries had been established across some of the larger streams
at certain points. The smaller streams had to be forded.
We had very much wading to do in crossing streams, sloughs and swamps,
quite often having to wade places where the water was not less than
three or four feet deep. The water was necessarily cold, but after a few
days of experience we would become accustomed to it, so we would not
mind it very much. When a pair of new boots were purchased, before they
were worn, a slit would be made in each one, near the sole, at the
inside of the instep to give drainage for the water to pass out. We had
a great amount of similar wading to do on this contract.
I will relate only one from many experiences which came my way during
the fall of 1851. When Mr. Freeman was surveying the meridian line, he
had a transit with his party, to make triangulations to distant mountain
peaks and other topographical objects that might come within range on
either side.
This transit, from a fall or some other accident, became injured, so it
became entirely useless for the purpose of making triangulations, and it
was left by Mr. Freeman at a farmhouse. Previous to his visit to Oregon
City in November, he concluded to take the transit along with him to the
surveyor-general’s office.
One morning he desired me to go for the instrument and bring it to camp.
He gave me the name of the man where it had been left, and the location
of the house was pointed out on the plan. As I remember, the location
was about twelve or fourteen miles distant.
Our camp was to be removed on that day, so that on my return it would be
necessary for me to pursue a different course from the one in going. I
started and found the house without difficulty, and after partaking of
some dinner and settling all bills due the proprietor, I started in the
direction of which I expected to find our camp. In my journey to the
house I found a comparatively dry road, and was not obliged to go
through any deep water.
It was considerably into the afternoon when I started on the home
journey and I did not suppose I would be able to reach camp that
evening, but concluded to take the chances of finding a house where I
could remain over night. After traveling two or three miles I reached a
stream of considerable depth, which I waded, coming out pretty
thoroughly soaked. A short distance farther on I entered a large
prairie. The weather was cloudy, but it did not rain very much. I kept
on and was able to pursue the proper course by the help of the
instrument, until it became dark, when a dense fog settled down upon the
plain. I could see only a short distance and was not able to see to read
the bearing of the needle of the transit. I had no other guide to direct
my course except a very slight movement of the atmosphere, which was
scarcely perceptible.
However, I kept the course as well as I was able to do, thinking the
most probable outcome would be that I would be obliged to remain on the
prairie until the next morning.
Some time between eight and nine o’clock in the evening, I heard the low
of a cow at my left, at about a right angle with the course I was then
traveling. I immediately shaped my course toward the point from which
the sound came, supposing there would be a farmhouse in that vicinity.
I soon came upon a little trail or road, which I followed, but I had not
gone a great distance before I came to a slough, at that time filled
with water. As the weather had been quite cool, the water was frozen
over to the thickness of half an inch. I waded into the water where the
trail entered it, and broke my way through the ice. Before I reached the
opposite side, I found the water nearly four feet deep, and it was no
easy task to break the ice so as to make my way through.
After a time I reached the opposite side and soon after saw a dim light
through the fog. I went in the direction of the light and soon reached a
house, where the inmates had retired for the night. I found the people
to be very hospitable. The good lady of the house arose and prepared a
supper for me, and during the night dried my wet clothing before the
fire. The next morning I traveled to camp.
We completed the contract about the first of March and immediately after
went to Oregon City. The pay at this time for chainmen, axemen and
campmen on the surveys was about two dollars a day. Mr. Freeman paid me
a larger compensation, but I do not remember the price. After our
arrival at Oregon City, Mr. Elder said to me that he had resigned his
position as chief clerk at the office of the surveyor-general, and
should go on the field work. He was to have a contract, and desired me
to work in his employ. I agreed to do so.
He received a contract dated March 25, 1852. This contract was for the
survey of the exterior lines of townships 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 south, of
range 3 and 4 west, with a part of the first standard parallel south.
This amounted to about 120 miles of surveys at $17 a mile.
This contract was principally in the Yamhill valley, westerly and
southwesterly from Oregon City. The work was all within 25 miles of the
surveyor-general’s office.
Mr. Elder had procured me a solar compass, for which I paid him $350.
We began the contract about the first of April and finished it near the
end of May. I was compassman on substantially all the lines of the
contract, while Mr. Elder wrote the field notes and made the plats.
I received a commission as a United States deputy surveyor, April 25,
1852, from John B. Preston, surveyor-general of Oregon.
As soon as the contract was completed we went to Oregon City, and Mr.
Elder proposed that my name should be associated with his in a contract
for subdivisions, so as to be able to obtain a contract of ten
townships, instead of five, the number usually awarded to one deputy in
a single contract.
I was to work for him and have charge of one party, while he would have
charge of a second party. I agreed to this. The contract to Elder &
Webster was dated June 8, 1852, and was for the subdivisions of
townships 3 and 5 south range, 2 west; 1, 3, 4 and 5 south range, 3
west; and 2, 3, 4 and 5 south range, 4 west. This included all the
townships, with two exceptions, of which we had made the surveys of the
exterior lines, and included two townships in range 2 which had been
surveyed by Deputy William Ives. The number of miles contained in the
contract to be surveyed was estimated at 660. The subdivisions, or
interior lines of a township, amount to about 60 miles, provided there
are no streams or lakes to be measured. All streams considered navigable
are measured on both sides.
In this contract were portions of the Willamette and the Yamhill Rivers,
which were measured.
We left Oregon City on or about June 9th. We made up two parties. Mr.
Elder managed one party and I the other. In my party were Henry S. Gile,
from Alfred, Maine, a very intelligent man, who acted as one of my
chainmen; James M. Fudge from Sangamon county, Illinois, also a very
fine young man (he was killed by the explosion of a steamboat boiler a
short distance above the falls at Oregon City, in the spring of 1854);
Andrew Murphy, an intelligent Irish-American citizen from St. Louis,
Mo.; and James O’Connor, as compassman. The last named was an inhabitant
of Oregon, a young man. At this time I do not remember the names of Mr.
Elder’s party with the exception of Matthew Murphy, a brother to Andrew,
and who assisted Mr. Elder in the management of the compass before the
contract was completed.
We had good working forces on this contract and consequently had a very
pleasant time. I made considerably more than half of the surveys with my
party.
We were engaged on this contract about four months, or until about the
8th of October, when we went to Oregon City and made up our field notes
and plats, and returned them to the surveyor-general’s office. Mr. Elder
paid me something more than $100 a month for my work.
My health had continued good all through the summer, until just previous
to the time of finishing of the contract, when I was taken ill but
managed to lead my party and do my work until the survey was completed.
After we went to Oregon City I did not improve. I procured some medicine
once or twice from an English physician. Mr. Elder said I was afflicted
with a fever of some kind, and I thought later that probably he was
right. Be that as it may, I was quite sick for three or four weeks,
although I was out more or less every day during the whole time.
Finally, I began to improve, and about the first of December I had
nearly recovered my usual good health.
Up to this time I had had no contract on my own account, but it was
understood that I should receive a contract of subdivisions for winter.
This was under President Filmore’s administration and of course Mr.
Preston, the surveyor-general was a Whig, politically, as was Mr. Elder.
One day when I was in the surveyor-general’s office, Mr. Preston called
me into his private office and inquired in regard to my politics. This
surprised me as I had supposed he knew, and I could not help wondering
how much bearing my reply would have in awarding me a contract. I
immediately said I was a Democrat, and asked if that would make any
difference about awarding me a contract.
He said it would not with him, but with surveyor-generals generally a
distinction was made, and contracts were only awarded to deputies of
their own political faith.
[Illustration: SEAL OF CALIFORNIA IN ITS EARLIER DAYS.]
Mr. Preston was a fine man, and had always been very kind to me. I never
knew the object of his making the inquiry, but I afterwards supposed he
did it to test my honesty, and to see if I would equivocate in any way
in relation to my political principles. If I had pursued such a course
it is possible I might not have fared as well as I did. He said that a
majority of his deputies were Democrats. Mr. Freeman, William Ives, and
his brother, Butler Ives, and Joseph Hunt were all of that party.
He awarded me a contract, No. 27, dated December 1, 1852, for the
subdivisions of township No. 14 south, ranges 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 west,
estimated at 315 miles, at $10 per mile.
I made up my party and left Oregon City about a week later, going up the
River Willamette on a steamer to Salem, where I had arranged to have the
“pack horses” meet us, and where we camped near the river. A storm began
soon after we arrived at Salem, and it continued for two or three days,
so it was impracticable to attempt to move up the valley until the rain
should cease. Our work was about 50 miles southerly from Salem.
After three or four days the weather became fair and pleasant, and we
packed up our camp and moved southerly up the valley of the Willamette.
The river, with all the streams, was very much swollen from the recent
rains, and we were obliged to do considerable wading, some of which was
quite deep. As I had but a short time previously recovered from quite a
severe illness, and had not been so exposed for several weeks, I took
cold.
I felt the cold quite severely on the first night out from Salem. On the
second evening I had, as I believe, as severe a cold as I ever
experienced in my whole life. After the other men had turned in for the
night I inquired if any one of them had anything that would cure a cold.
One of them replied that he had some cayenne pepper in his valise and
told me where I could find it, and he told me that a teaspoonful in hot
water was a proper dose. After heating some water I put in a
tablespoonful of the cayenne, stirred it thoroughly, and drank dregs and
all. I am now convinced it was the warmest dose I ever drank, but I
immediately laid down for the night, and when I arose the next morning,
my cold had nearly disappeared. It troubled me very little afterward.
This, I believe, was the only serious cold I experienced while in
Oregon.
We were about three days in making the trip from Salem and we began work
December 17, in township No. 14 south, range 3, west. The Willamette
River ran through township 14, range 4 and 5, west. The Callapooza, a
small river, also passed through some of the townships.
There was much rainy weather through the last part of December, and also
during January, 1853, all the streams and swales being full of water.
I don’t recollect the names of the men who made up my party, with the
exception of one, whose name was McDonald. Whenever we got into a hard
place, he was always complaining, and would say that he should quit
work. He was not the sort of a man I desired, but I did not wish to have
him leave, as he had a sympathizer in the party who would be pretty sure
to leave if he did, and that would break up my gang. It would probably
trouble me to supply their places at that time.
We finished one township on January 3, and commenced upon the one next
west in range 4. The Willamette River intersected the western boundary
of this township, which it crossed four times, and also crossed its
south boundary. We had completed about two-thirds of the easterly part
of this township when one day it became necessary to cross the
Willamette River and bring out a line before we could make any farther
progress.
I made some inquiries of some of the settlers in relation to a boat, and
learned of a man nearby who owned a “dugout,” but upon seeing him he
declared it would be impossible to cross the river in its swollen
condition. We went to the river where the boat was located and the
situation for crossing did really look to be somewhat dangerous to be
undertaken at that time with such a craft. I had many times used similar
boats to cross streams.
A “dugout” is a boat made from a log, being dug out, as its name
implies, and many of them are not very steady on the water, overturning
very easily. This was one of the unsteady kind, and the river at the
point where the boat lay at that time was very rapid. A short distance
below was the upper end of an island, against which a large quantity of
drift timber had lodged and against which the current was lashing itself
with great force. After considering the situation for a few moments I
concluded that I could make the crossing, as I was obliged to do, or
await the fall of the river. The boat was so small and frail that it was
not safe for us all to undertake to cross at one time. I said to the men
of the party that I could take them safely over, as I believed, provided
they would do just as I should command them, and not become frightened.
I said also that we must cross the river or lie still until the freshet
should subside, which might be several days; that I would leave it to
them to decide whether to go or not, as it was, as I knew, attended with
some danger to make the attempt to cross.
Possibly we might meet with some accident, and if so, we probably would
fare hard. They concluded to make the attempt. I took two men into the
boat with me, together with the instruments. The men sat on the bottom
of the boat to steady it, and after giving them their instructions, I
pulled the boat into the current. Though the passage was difficult we
went safely across to the other side of the river. But our troubles had
only begun. The lowlands along the river were overflowed to a depth of
several feet; in places it was so deep that it was impossible to wade
it, so that it was necessary to make triangulations. The country was
timbered, and brushy, and the lines crossed the island.
We were wading in the water nearly all day. I believe now, considering
the water, brush and all the conditions there present, it was the most
difficult line of equal length that I encountered on all the surveys I
made while in Oregon.
It crossed the river at a little more than one-half mile from the corner
at which we began, and we worked in the water nearly the entire day, but
got the line across before night.
At the time when we were wading in the deep cold water, Mr. McDonald
began to complain as usual, and said he would quit the job. I was
feeling a little out of patience myself, and I said to him that he had
been saying about the same thing whenever we got into a hard place, and
that I had become tired of hearing it. I advised him either to stop such
talk or quit at once. He replied that he would quit after that day. I
said, “all right.” The next morning when we prepared to start for our
work, he said to me that he supposed I understood he was to quit work. I
remarked that I had heard him say as much when we were in the water the
day previous, but that I had concluded that probably he had changed his
mind in the meantime. He went to work again and continued for several
days, when he concluded to quit, and his companion went with him.
This broke up our party, when it was near the first of February. My
contract at that date was less than one-half completed. As I was getting
short of supplies that were impossible to procure from the settlers, I
sent the campman with the horses to Albany, it being about twenty-five
miles northerly, down the Willamette valley, and gave him orders to
procure such supplies as were needed, and to hire two good men. I
remained alone in an unfinished log house while he was absent, about one
week, and was engaged in copying my field notes. He returned with
provisions and brought along with him two men that proved themselves to
be very good help. After this time we had much better weather, and also
an improved party. I finished the contract about the 25th of March, and
went to Oregon City with my returns.
Before my return to Oregon City, Mr. Elder had arranged for a double
contract in the Umqua valley, and had the name of Harry S. Gile
associated with his own in a similar way that he had my name used in the
contract a year previous.
As at that time I could have no contract of my own until later, Mr.
Elder suggested that I go with him to the Umqua valley. As Mr. Gile had
had but little experience as a compassman I could help him survey the
township lines, and return in season to get a contract of my own; which
would probably be available later. I at once agreed to his proposition.
The location of the contract was about 150 miles south of Oregon City on
an air line, and included the best part of the Umqua valley. It
consisted of eight or ten townships, both the exterior and interior
lines, or between 700 and 800 miles of surveys.
We left Oregon City for Umqua about the middle of April, 1853. It was a
good country to survey, and Mr. Elder made it well. I remained until the
contract was completed, some time near September 1st, or between four
and five months.
I surveyed the larger part of the township lines and considerably more
than one-half of the subdivision. Mr. Gile worked one party, and I the
other, while Mr. Elder copied the field notes and drew the maps.
A short time previous to the completion of the contract, Mr. Elder
proposed to me that if I would remain and complete the work, he would go
to the surveyor-general’s office at Oregon City and get a large contract
in the Rouge River valley, the same to be a company contract for Mr.
Elder and myself.
The Rouge River valley was about seventy-five miles south-easterly from
the place where we were then at work, and the understanding was to move
our parties over there from the Umqua country, and thus save the
breaking up of the parties. I at once consented to the proposition, and
Mr. Elder was to start for Oregon City at once, both of us feeling
certain he would be able to procure the contract.
Before he had started, however, we received information that an Indian
war had broken out at the Rouge River valley. That put a stop to our
proposed contract. Of course, we could do no surveying during an Indian
war. The war continued during the succeeding three or four months.
General Joe Lane was then in Oregon, and with the United States regular
army that was stationed there, together with volunteers, he secured
peace. But a large number of the white inhabitants lost their lives
during the outbreak. It happened very fortunate for our surveying party
that it did not occur a month later, when we should probably have been
surveying in that valley, and probably some of us would have lost our
scalps.
The war was said to have been caused by the abuse of the daughter of the
chief by some gold miners who were at work on Rouge River, and as the
perpetrators of the foul deed immediately left the place, so that the
chief could not punish the guilty parties, he made preparations to
exterminate all the white people then in the valley. Nothing was known
in relation to his intentions by the whites until his arrangements were
completed.
One day when all was in readiness, as he supposed, the Indians commenced
shooting down the whites indiscriminately in Jacksonville, the principal
village of the Rouge River settlement. In this instance, as in one or
two other Indian outbreaks that I knew something about while I was in
the Indian country, the trouble was caused by ill treatment of the
Indians by the whites, and I firmly believe the same, or similar causes,
have produced similar results in the great majority of Indian wars and
massacres since the discovery of America by Columbus. It is my opinion
that the poor Indian--naturally a noble race of men--have been most
shamefully and wickedly abused and mistreated.
I will give just one instance that came under my observation, as an
illustration. In Oregon City I became acquainted with a man by the name
of Angel. About the time the Rouge River gold mines were discovered and
began to be worked, Mr. Angel concluded to remove there. Previous to his
removal, as I was talking with him in relation to the matter, he said he
was the owner of a good rifle, and that Indians were quite plentiful in
the Rouge River country. He said he intended to shoot the first Rouge
River Indian that he should see after his arrival at that place.
I had some argument with him in regard to the justice or propriety of
committing such an act, but he persisted that his mind was fully
settled, and he would certainly do that deed, provided he should have
an opportunity. When I was fully convinced that he was truly in earnest,
or appeared to be so, I said to him, that should he do as he said he
would do, and murder an innocent, unoffensive Indian in cold blood, it
was my wish that he would also be shot by an Indian.
Mr. Angel removed to Rouge River, and I later learned that he shot three
or four Indians at different times, while he was standing in his own
doorway, and that he made a boast of it, but that he was killed during
the Rouge River Indian outbreak. Provided I had the truth of the matter,
I certainly believe he received his just deserts. Poor Mr. Angel!
We had a pleasant time while engaged upon the Umqua contract, and after
it was completed we returned to Oregon City. Mr. Elder paid me $185 a
month for the time I was employed, nearly five months.
One incident that I failed to relate in its proper place I will insert
here. When writing in relation to the work on the contract in the winter
of 1852-3, I wrote that I sent the campman to Albany, where he hired two
men.
One of these men had had very sore eyes, from which he had not fully
recovered. He said it was his opinion the disease was contagious, as he
believed he had contracted it from another person. A short time previous
to the finishing of that contract, one of my eyes felt as though some
foreign substance was in it. I endeavored to remove it, but with no good
results. The eye soon became inflamed and troubled me badly. Within two
or three days later the other eye was affected in a similar manner as
the first. They were in bad condition and troubled me much. After I had
completed the contract and went to Oregon City my eyes did not improve,
but steadily grew worse. I could not bear the light without pain, and
many times in the evening after the hotel was lighted, it caused me such
suffering I would go outside and walk the dark streets. In the morning
my eyes would be fairly glued together, and it would be impossible for
me to open them until I had removed the sticky substance and open them
with my fingers.
I applied to the English physician I have previously mentioned, and he
gave me some salve, which he directed me to apply at night. I applied it
as directed. It seemed almost like putting fire into my eyes. After I
had applied it for two or three nights, my eyes instead of improving, as
I had reason to suppose they would do, became worse, and in the morning
after I had succeeded in getting my eyes open I threw the box of salve
into the street. From that time my eyes began to improve. I wore colored
glasses for a time to protect them.
When I left Oregon City for the Umqua with Mr. Elder, although my eyes
had improved some, they were very sensitive to light. They continued to
improve, but when I commenced work they troubled me greatly. I could see
double--that is, I could see two objects where there was only one.
Suppose I was looking at a man some distance away, I would seem to see
two men, instead of one.
However, my eyes continued to improve slowly but steadily, and at length
regained their normal condition, so far as my sight was concerned. Still
it was a long time before they became strong, so as to bear any
excessive light without causing me pain, and it is my opinion they were
never quite so strong after that time as they had been previously.
At the presidential election that took place in November, 1852, Franklin
Pierce of New Hampshire was elected president of the United States. This
caused a change in the national administration from Whig to Democratic.
After I arrived at Oregon City from the Umqua valley, Mr. Preston said
to me that he supposed that Mr. Pierce would send a man there to take
his place as surveyor-general, and that he would be removed from the
office. He also said that as I had been crowded out of a contract in the
previous spring, which I was really entitled to, he would give me my
first choice of a contract from any of the lands at that time available
to be surveyed.
After we had examined the plans, I selected for a contract the country
west of the Willamette River, including the Long Tom valley. The
contract was dated September 19, 1853, and included the survey of the
4th standard parallel south of range 5 and 6 west, the township lines of
townships No. 16, 17 and 18, south of range No. 5 west, and 14, 15, 16,
17 and 18, south of range No. 6 west, or so much of these as was
suitable for settlement, estimated at 396 miles, at $12 per mile. The
west line of some of these townships ran into the coast range of
mountains, and included some lands that were unfit for cultivation. This
was the largest single contract, as I believe, that had been awarded to
any deputy in Oregon. It proved to be a good contract, notwithstanding I
had some very difficult township lines to survey in the mountains.
Instead of the surveys amounting to 396 miles, there were 486 miles of
surveys. In making the surveys of the public lands the deputy contracts
to do the work at a certain price per mile; employ and pay his own help,
and also pay all expenses. We paid help at that time each by the day and
paid for the time only that we were able to work, on account of good or
bad weather.
As soon as practicable after the contract was signed, I made up my party
and left Oregon City, September 23, 1853. My party consisted of A. M.
Addington and Granville Blake, chainmen, and John E. Boyd and Joseph
Hawkins. All were from the western states.
I began work on the survey September 28. The weather was fair for the
most part until the 13th of October, and it was not very stormy and bad
through November.
The west line of the west tier of townships for nearly its entire
length, or thirty miles, was in the coast range of mountains. It was
very difficult to survey. The spurs and ravines made it up or down
nearly the whole distance. Much of the way it was very steep. The
mountains were heavily timbered. To survey these lines it was necessary
to pack some provisions and take along. When night came we would build a
fire, and after partaking of such eatables as we had managed to carry
with us, lie down to sleep. To survey the two lines of a township in
this broken country usually kept us in the mountains three or four days
at a time, and we would carry with us provisions sufficient to last that
length of time. Each one would carry his own pack.
Before the middle of October we had completed the lines of the three
townships of range 5, which was in a fine country to survey, and had
made some progress upon the other range. In cloudy weather we worked
upon the subdivisions. There was considerable cloudy and rainy weather
in November, while December proved still worse. I completed the
subdivisions of the three townships of range 5, and on December 9th went
to Marysville and copied my field notes, as the weather was so cloudy
and stormy that I could not work to any advantage. I returned from
Marysville December 21, and worked a few days, when there came a snow
storm. The snow fell to the depth of ten or twelve inches and it was
light and dry like a New England snow in mid-winter. It cleared away
cold, and we had really a New Hampshire winter for about two weeks. The
snow blew and ice formed over the streams and other exposed waters six
or eight inches in thickness. This was a very unusual occurrence for
Oregon.
This state of affairs continued for more than two weeks, or until the
27th of January, when it became warm, and the snow soon melted away.
During the cold spell we could do no work at surveying, but keep
ourselves as comfortable as possible in our tent.
In December and January we worked only twenty-seven and one-half days.
February was a better month, but we had some stormy weather.
I finished the contract April 21, 1854, just seven months from the time
of its date. We worked 133 days on the field work and averaged very
nearly three miles for each working day. After the contract was
completed we started for Oregon City, leaving all the camp equippage,
blankets, etc., with a man near Albany, going by the Willamette on a
steamer. When I arrived at Oregon City, Colonel Gardiner was in the
office as the new surveyor-general of Oregon Territory, Mr. Preston
having been deposed during the winter. Mr. Preston had remained in the
place and had opened a private land office. Colonel Gardiner was a good
man in his place, but he knew very little in regard to the public land
surveys. As Mr. Preston was a practical engineer and surveyor, it was a
poor exchange in a practical sense.
I copied and returned my field notes and plats to the office. At this
time, my friend, Mr. Elder, had returned to his home in Illinois, and
Mr. James E. Freeman had gone to California and was employed on the
public surveys there. After my work on the field notes and maps was
completed, which kept me busy for a considerable time, I was one day
near the Willamette below Oregon City a short distance picking some
strawberries for pastime, when a gentleman accosted me and inquired if
my name was Webster. I replied that it was. He said he was agent for
some coal mines on Bellingham Bay, at the north end of Puget Sound, near
the British boundary and opposite to Vancouver Island. He represented a
company in New York, and had come to Oregon City for a surveyor to go
there and make a survey of the land upon which the mines were located.
He went to the surveyor-general’s office, where I had been recommended
to him, and he asked me if I would go with him and do the work.
I agreed to do the job, which was a matter of a few days’ work only,
after we should have reached the place. He was to return to Olympia,
situated at the head of Puget Sound, immediately, where I was to meet
him.
I started on the trip June 11th, and went down the Willamette to
Portland in a steamer. From Portland I boarded another steamer and
traveled down the Willamette and Columbia Rivers about 70 miles to the
mouth of the Cowlitz River. From this point I went up the Cowlitz River
in an Indian canoe, propelled by two or three Indian men with poles,
about 35 or 40 miles, as far as the Cowlitz Farms Landing. From Cowlitz
Landing I rode horse back 50 or 60 miles to Olympia, at the head of
Puget Sound, where I arrived June 16.
At Olympia I learned the agent had gone ahead down the Sound, and had
left instructions for me to follow with the mail carrier to Alki Point,
near the present site of Seattle, about 60 miles from Olympia, where he
proposed to meet me.
We left Olympia in the afternoon in a small skiff, and made a landing at
Steilacoom for the night. This was about 20 miles from Olympia. Upon
reaching Alki Point early the next morning I met the agent, who had
engaged three Indians with a large Indian cedar canoe to take us to
Bellingham Bay, which I believe was about 100 miles northerly.
On leaving Oregon City I had heard of an Indian outbreak at Puget Sound,
and I learned that there had been an attack at Bellingham Bay. I was
advised to abandon the trip, but I had resolved to keep ahead.
Two other men, friends of the agent, went with us from Alki Point
(Seattle), which, including the three Indians, made seven in our party.
After leaving Alki Point we encountered some dangerous experiences with
our canoe on the Sound and got thoroughly drenched with water several
times, but the Indians succeeded in keeping the cedar canoe right side
up.
At length we reached Bellingham Bay, which I believe was the same
location where the city of Whatcom, Washington, is now situated. When we
arrived we found five or six men, which was all the inhabitants then
residing in that vicinity. They occupied a small log cabin, which was
the only building within many miles.
This was the exact location where two men of the same party had been
killed by the Indians a short time previous. The door of the cabin was
literally riddled with bullets.
The trouble had been with the Indians from up the British coast, near
Fort Snelling. It was a very intellectual tribe of red men, who were
tall and well proportioned, with a skin almost as white as many of the
white race.
A number of the Indians had been employed for a considerable time at one
of the sawmills along the sound, and had been very satisfactory
laborers, when for some cause they concluded to quit work. The
proprietor refused to pay them the amount due at that time unless they
should continue. A dispute arose, when the proprietor drew his revolver
and shot one of the Indians dead on the spot. The other Indians
immediately left for their homes. This caused the trouble.
[Illustration:
From a Painting by Frank Holland.
WARSHIP PORTSMOUTH WHICH CARRIED THE AMERICAN FLAG INTO SAN FRANCISCO IN
1846.]
The chief of the tribe fitted out a war party and they came down the
coast to the sound in large war canoes, and at once created a general
alarm at the settlements all along the sound. These war canoes were made
from giant cedar logs, and neatly and elaborately ornamented. Some were
of sufficient capacity to carry 50 warriors, each one with a paddle.
The men at the coal camp at Whatcom had heard of the danger and had
taken the precaution to keep out a guard at night, two at a time. They
supposed the Indians would approach them by water in case they made an
attack, consequently they adopted the plan of keeping guard in a boat,
anchored a short distance from shore.
On the night of the attack, two men were on guard in the boat as usual,
when the men in the cabin heard shots at the landing, only a few rods
distant. Thoroughly alarmed they took to the brush for safety. The
Indians fired many shots into the house, but the men had made their
escape. The two men on guard were supposed to have been surprised and
killed, but their bodies had not been discovered when I was there. One
evening about sunset we heard much shooting out in the bay, but it was
too far away for us to see so as to ascertain the cause. We supposed it
to be a war party of the Indians, which was later learned to be the
fact. They were exchanging shots with some men in boats.
That night we expected an attack at our exposed camp, and we were all
armed and prepared to defend ourselves as well as possible under the
conditions. But they did not trouble us and we heard nothing further
from them during our stay.
I completed the survey as was desired. As I now remember I surveyed two
square miles of land, on which the coal mines cropped out. After the
surveys were completed we left Whatcom on our return, and arrived at
Steilacoom on the evening of the 3d of July, 1854. Here we celebrated
Independence day and remained until the 5th, after which I returned to
Oregon City over the same route I had traveled when on my way out,
having been absent about twenty-eight days.
After my return Colonel Gardiner, the surveyor-general, offered me the
work to finish the remainder of a contract somewhere in the northern
part of the territory, upon which a deputy had been at work and had
failed to finish it. So far as I was able to learn in regard to it, it
was located in a rough, brushy, timbered country, and was not a
desirable piece of work.
Yet, as I learned, the deputy who first took the contract and undertook
to do the work, did not attend to his business as he should have done,
which was probably the real cause of his failure.
CHAPTER XI.
HOMEWARD BOUND
I was satisfied that I could make the work pay me some profit, but it
was not a very desirable contract. Still, if I refused to accept this
offer from Colonel Gardiner, I could not afterwards consistently ask him
for a better contract. If I should accept it and finish the work, I
might later be in a position to receive a better offer from him. The
most desirable country in Oregon, lying west of the Cascade mountains,
had already been surveyed, or was under contract.
At first I was undecided which course to pursue. It seemed to be a
turning point in my life. Should I engage to do the work, I might
perhaps remain in Oregon for years to come, and possibly never return
home. At that time it was about five years and three months since I had
left home, and I had learned that the longer the absence was continued,
the less strong my desire to return. But I soon came to a decision to go
back to my old New Hampshire home, if for nothing more than a visit.
I thought that perhaps this was as good an opportunity to do so as would
offer itself in the near future. Consequently, I made arrangements with
Mr. Preston to draw the money for the balance of the surveys for which I
had not yet been paid, and to forward the same to me at Hudson, N. H.,
my home. After having been a resident of the territory of Oregon for
some more than three years, I left Portland for San Francisco in the
steamer Columbia, which was the same vessel that brought me to Oregon.
To convey a faint conception of the many vicissitudes of the surveyors
employed in making the surveys upon the public lands of the United
States in sparsely settled regions, I will relate two or three incidents
from many similar experiences which occurred while I was engaged upon
the public surveys of Oregon.
One morning while making surveys of township lines, previous to leaving
camp I gave the campmen their orders (I had two at that time) to move
the camp during the day six miles east, or as near that point as they
could find wood and water for camp purposes.
We were to start from the township corner that morning, and survey a
line due east. Provided it should prove a good country for surveying, we
could nearly or quite reach the opposite township corner, a distance of
six miles, where I had ordered the campmen to pitch camp.
This was in the late autumn when the days were short, and at that season
we took no lunch with us. The usual time for us to finish breakfast and
leave camp in the morning was as early as sunrise.
On the day mentioned, our line was principally through a timbered and
brushy country, so when night came we had completed but three and
one-half miles.
Just before it began to grow dark, we left the survey and started east,
expecting to find our camp within two or three miles. We had traveled
about that distance when we came to a wagon trail or road, the course
of which was nearly north and south, and near which was plenty of wood
and water. We hallooed, as was our custom, to attract the attention of
the campmen, but received no reply.
Under ordinary conditions we could be heard at least one mile, and
sometimes, when conditions were more favorable, nearly or quite two
miles. As we heard no reply from the campmen, we followed the road south
about three miles, but could hear nothing from our camp. We then
retraced our steps to the point at which we first intersected the road,
and followed it in the opposite, or northerly direction, for about an
equal distance, but could hear no reply to our calls, when we felt
certain the camp could not be in that direction.
We again retraced our way to about the point at which we had at first
intersected the road. We had seen no house on that day.
It was then about eleven o’clock at night. I saw a place by the roadside
where there was an abundance of dry wood, and I said to the party that I
should camp there for the night. They all concluded to adopt a similar
course. We started a good blaze and remained near it until morning.
When morning came we started to find either our camp or some house. One
of the men went with me, and we traveled in a southerly direction. The
two other men went in another direction.
About ten o’clock in the forenoon we came to a small cabin. We entered
it and found a man there who was living alone. I asked him if he could
prepare something eatable for us, as we had eaten nothing since early
in the morning on the day previous. He replied he was alone and that he
could do nothing for us. I said to him: “Have you any provisions of any
kind about your house?” His reply was that he had a little. I said that
“we _must_ have some of such as you have,” and that if he did not
produce it for us himself we would help ourselves to such as we might be
able to find about the house. He at once kindled a fire and prepared us
a dinner, but it was near noon before our meal was in readiness.
Previous to the time our dinner was in readiness the other two men made
their appearance, and they had become so much exhausted and faint for
the want of food, they had been eating the barks and roots of trees.
The next day I commenced work again without looking for camp any
farther, but selected a line in another direction, which was through a
country with settlements.
We worked three or four days, stopping at the houses for accommodations
at night, before we heard anything from camp. Then the campmen found us,
and I afterwards learned, although they would not admit it at that time,
that instead of going six miles east, they traveled six miles south, and
camped about nine miles from the point where they were ordered to go.
On another occasion, at the time I was engaged in running a party for
Mr. Elder, upon going to camp one evening when it was nearly dark, we
followed a line into a brushy bottom, to correct a quarter section post
that had been set on a random line by the other party at work for Mr.
Elder. One man accompanied me, who was present with the other party when
the post was located. We followed the surveyed line and found the post
without difficulty, and made the necessary correction, marking witness
trees, etc.
At that time we knew the location of our camp, as it was not to be
removed on that day. It was not more than a mile distant in a straight
line. To follow the line back, upon which we had come, until we should
reach the open land, and then go to camp would double the distance to be
traveled.
The man with me proposed to take the short cut through the brush, and
claimed to know the way as he had been over the same route with the
other party. It was becoming quite dark, and I consented to his
leadership, against my better judgment, which was something I seldom
did, to follow another in the woods.
The route was very brushy, with much fallen timber, and being quite
dark, our progress was slow. We continued to travel, making our way
through the tangled brush as best we could. At length we came to a small
river, from which we drank some water, and where we rested for a short
time.
It being dark, it was impossible to read the bearing from the
instrument. It was my opinion that we had not traveled altogether in a
direct line. My companion desired to cross the stream, but I was
convinced that we were on the same side as was our camp.
We again started and traveled until about eleven o’clock, previous to
which I had utterly abandoned all hope of reaching camp on that night.
As we came to a tall white fir tree, I said to my companion that I
should camp under that tree for the night, as I believed we had traveled
in a circle, at least to some extent, and there was no possibility for
us to reach camp before daylight. He didn’t agree with my opinion, and
he claimed we had traveled nearly in a straight line. He thought that we
must be near camp, and left me, expecting to reach camp within a short
time.
I climbed the tree, probably to a height of nearly 100 feet, to break
off some twigs, on which to lie down for the remainder of the night. I
remained in the tree for a considerable time, listening to the noise
that came from my companion as he made his way through the brush. His
progress was slow, as ours had been, and I could distinctly hear the
brush crack, but instead of keeping a straight line, as he supposed he
was doing, he soon began to bear away to the left in a curved line. He
continued to circle to the left, but not for once did he pass beyond my
hearing.
In about three-quarters of an hour after he left me, I could hear him
approaching from nearly the opposite direction from that in which he had
started. I descended the tree and awaited his approach. When he had
reached a point within a few rods of me, he hallooed. I answered his
call. He seemed surprised and came to me. His first question was how I
came there. It was some time before I could convince him of the fact
that I had remained during his absence at the same place where he had
last parted from me.
He thought he had traveled in a straight line, and when he first heard
my voice in answer to his call, he believed he was almost in camp. When
he became convinced that he had passed around in a circle, and had made
no progress toward camp, he seemed to be satisfied to remain with me
until morning. The next morning I led the way to camp without any
difficulty, where we arrived shortly after breakfast time, having been
without food for some more than twenty-four hours.
These are sample or specimen cases, and many other similar, more or less
varied experiences could be related, if space would permit, such as
sleeping out in the mountains in the winter season, with one blanket
only, with a cold drenching rain falling all through the night. I have
awakened to find myself completely covered with snow two or three inches
in depth, with the exception of my face.
At that time there were roaming in the coast and cascade ranges of
mountains and valleys numerous wild animals, such as grizzly and black
bears, cougars or mountain lions, wild cats, gray wolves and coyotes,
deer, moose and many other species of animals. There were also two or
three kinds of rattlesnakes.
Sometimes we would approach within sight of one of the animals, which
would seem to be pleased to increase its distance between us as rapidly
as possible. They are savage, ferocious animals when aroused, but when
they are respected and passed at a distance without being interfered
with in any way, they are seemingly not to be feared. To keep peace with
them, their rights as monarchs of the forests should always be
respected.
In San Francisco I met Mr. James E. Freeman, who was about to start on a
survey of the public lands of California, and he desired me to assist
him in doing the work. He offered me a salary of ten dollars per day and
board for the entire time we should be absent from San Francisco in
completing the work of the contract. I considered that to be a very
liberal offer, and I hesitated before declining it. However, as I had
made a start for home, and my mind had been fully decided in that
direction, I concluded not to make a change.
I also found my uncle, Alfred Cummings, in San Francisco, occupied with
carpenter work, and he had concluded to go home with me.
San Francisco had greatly increased in size and population, and had
improved its condition during my absence. I remained there eight or ten
days awaiting the departure of a steamer for Panama.
We left San Francisco near the end of July and took passage on the
steamer Yankee Blade. Before reaching Panama the coal became exhausted,
and we landed on a small, uninhabited island, where wood was cut and
carried aboard the vessel in boats for fuel, in order to complete the
voyage. We were then within two or three days sail of Panama.
In due time we reached Panama, where we landed and remained over night.
At that time the Panama railroad had been completed from Aspinwall to a
point about nine miles distant from the town of Panama, and near the
summit of the isthmus. We left Panama the next morning, riding on mules,
which were provided us by the steamship company, anticipating that we
would reach Aspinwall, on the Atlantic shore, and board the steamer for
New York that evening.
We reached the end of the railroad without any undue delay, and boarded
a train of cars for Aspinwall, but from some cause or causes, to the
passengers unknown, there were many delays, and our progress on that
day was quite discouraging. We were sidetracked for the night, but a few
miles distant from the point of starting, and the engine left us, word
being given out that the cars would not move until morning. I procured
something to eat at a small restaurant, and slept for the night upon the
table at the same place. In the morning we supposed we were to go
directly through to Aspinwall, but similar delays to those experienced
the day preceding occurred, and when night came we were again
sidetracked only a few miles distant from the place we spent the night
previous, and at a distance from any place where we could procure
refreshments. The patience of the passengers had become almost
exhausted.
There were no conveniences for sleeping in the cars. They were full of
passengers and the atmosphere was very bad, caused by poor ventilation.
Some time during the early part of the night I went to the rear platform
of one of the cars and laid down and soon fell asleep. This was a
platform I supposed the passengers would not use to pass over when going
out or into the cars.
During the night some one in passing out in the darkness came in contact
with me, which caused me to awake, and I spoke to him. He told me if I
should continue to lie there in the night air, with no covering, I
should almost certainly contract the deadly Panama fever. I replied that
I would take the risk, and again fell asleep and enjoyed a very
comfortable rest for the night. The next day the train took us through
to Aspinwall with but little delay.
What caused the necessity to detain several hundreds of passengers in a
train of cars for three days and two nights while traveling a distance
of less than fifty miles, and where there was very little accommodation
for refreshments or sleep, I could never comprehend.
At Aspinwall we boarded one of the steamers for New York. We had a fine
passage to New York, where we arrived without any undue delay.
We remained in New York over one night, when we proceeded on our journey
home, where we arrived near the last of August, 1854, after an absence
of a little more than five years and four months.
ADDENDA.
THE DISCOVERY OF GOLD.
There are conflicting accounts as to who was the real discoverer of gold
in California. Long before its actual existence was known the country
was pictured as a marvelous Eldorado. As early as 1524 Cortes was given
a dazzling description of a “wonderful island in the Pacific exceedingly
rich in pearls and gold.” Drake said in his journal, “the country seems
to promise rich veins of gold.” The native Indians claimed that gold
existed among the streams, and in 1766 Jonathan Carver wrote with a
spirit of prophecy that “probably in the future ages the land may be
found to contain more riches in their bowels than those of Indostan.” So
account after account is given premising the existence of the precious
mineral, until in 1847 Capt. Charles Bennett discovered gold near
Sutter’s mill, while there in partnership with James W. Marshall, who
has since been credited as its discoverer. Bennett has a marble shaft
standing in the Odd Fellows’ cemetery at Salem, Ore., stating that he
was the “Discoverer of Gold in California, and Fell in the Defense of
His Country at Walla Walla,” in 1855, fighting the Indians. Marshall has
a more pretentious statue at Coloma, Cal., proclaiming him as the
discoverer of the yellow nugget that started the stream of golden wealth
from the Pacific slope, which was to pour into the channels of trade in
the United States until nearly two billion of dollars can be traced to
the beginning of the hardy Argonauts who panned the first free gold.
This story would not be complete without mention of the fact that
another claimant as discoverer of the precious mineral was a young woman
by the name of Emma Bonney, who was spending the winter of 1845-6 in the
vicinity of Sutter’s port. As the United States had not then acquired a
title to the country, her discovery was not heralded abroad and nothing
came of it.
Until 1847 California had remained a part of Mexico, and was very
sparsely settled. At that time, with the exception of a small settlement
of Mormons established by Brigham Young in July, 1847, on the shore of
Salt Lake, Utah, the country between the Missouri line, near Fort
Independence, and the Sacramento valley, a distance of more than two
thousand miles, was an almost unbroken wilderness, without civilized
inhabitants, and spoken of as the “Great American Desert.” As every
schoolboy knows, or ought to know, Col. John C. Fremont was the real
conqueror of California, and immediately the treaty was signed, which
made it a part of the United States, the discovery of gold was
proclaimed to the world, and instantaneously the invasion began.
Not alone to Fremont and the Gold Seekers belongs the entire credit of
conquering California and transforming it into a wonderland. Before the
doughty Pathfinder had found his way hither the sloop of war Portsmouth,
built at the Kittery navy yard just opposite of the city, whose name the
gallant vessel was to bear, in 1843. She sailed from Portsmouth
December 9, 1844, to join the squadron of Commodore J. D. Sloat in the
Pacific, where she arrived in season to participate in the Mexican War.
On July 9, 1846, her crew under command of Lieut. J. S. Missroon, landed
at Yerba, Buena, as San Francisco was then known, and took possession of
the town, raising for the first time, the American flag over California.
Not all of the Gold Seekers of ’49 went overland, as Mr. Webster and his
party did. Considerable debating was done at the time as to which was
the best route; around Cape Horn with its storms and vicissitudes, to
say nothing of the longer period of time required to make the passage;
across the Isthmus of Panama, with its vexatious delays and constant
dangers from tropical diseases; or by the Overland Trail, which seemed
to promise a more speedy arrival at the destination, though that was
fraught with great peril from hostile redmen and the hardships of
crossing an unknown country.
While naturally of a different experience the story of those who went to
the Land of Gold around Cape Horn is not less interesting than that of
those who performed the tedious and terrible trip across the plains.
Besides the perils of the deep to be met and overcome were the
sufferings from scurvy and other complaints belonging to a life on the
sea in those days. After all those who fared worse were the ones who
tried the middle route to find themselves stranded in a tropical country
unable to find ways and means of crossing the stretch of land lying
between the oceans. Some tried the journey on foot, to perish by the way
or reach the western shore, only to find themselves no better off as
far as continuing their course to the hoped-for Eldorado; many were
finally obliged to seek passage on some homeward-bound ship, without
having realized their dreams.
Whichever way they went, upon their arrival in the gold fields the mines
proved a wonderful leveler of the classes of men. No distinction of rank
was known there. Lawyers, doctors, ministers, men who wore kid gloves
and tall hats in the East, were glad to dig in the trenches with the
lowliest of laborers, all working for the same reward, the golden
talisman of fortune. Unable for any reason, to succeed in the mines,
some sought other ways of earning a living, if not a fortune, and so the
schoolmaster sawed firewood, the erstwhile judge of an eastern court
catered to a hungry crowd, while some business man performed the part of
a cook, so wild were the pranks fate played upon these fortune-seekers.
But if few came back rich, as wealth is reckoned, all helped to found in
power and prestige the glory of the Pacific Slope.
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
is told in=> are told in {pg 9}
forms one of the=> form one of the {pg 9}
cabins beeing seen=> cabins being seen {pg 31}
made an ineffiectual=> made an ineffectual {pg 34}
continuel to fill=> continued to fill {pg 36}
becoming more accustimed=> becoming more accustomed {pg 42}
on the prarie=> on the prairie {pg 48}
caused our misfortunte=> caused our misfortune {pg 70}
Feeling sowewhat=> Feeling somewhat {pg 72}
precipitous moutain=> precipitous mountain {pg 93}
pay of the winers=> pay of the miners {pg 101}
were buiding a dam=> were building a dam {pg 108}
had not succeed=> had not succeeded {pg 109}
Physician’s charges=> Physicians’ charges {pg 110}
point of exploson=> point of explosion {pg 125}
CHAPER VII.=> CHAPTER VII. {pg 137}
but unforunately=> but unfortunately {pg 145}
use the portractor=> use the protractor {pg 151}
something about portracting=> something about protracting {pg 151}
preceptibly turned=> perceptibly turned {pg 152}
suddely come=> suddenly come {pg 153}
excruiating pains=> excruciating pains {pg 166}
Pacific mail steam-=> Pacific mail steamer. {pg 189}
I might thing it=> I might think it {pg 195}
topograpical object=> topographical object {pg 203}
we hade made=> we had made {pg 206}
All stream considered navigable=> All streams considered navigable {pg
207}
*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The gold seekers of '49 : A Personal Narrative of the Overland Trail and Adventures in California and Oregon from 1849 to 1854" ***