Memoirs of Three Civil War Generals, Complete
by
U. S. Grant, W. T. Sherman, P. H. Sheridan
Part 16 out of 43
tumbled down, carrying with it a large quantity of earth, and
completely filled it up, as we had seen; "and," said Cash, "it took
us three days of the hardest kind of work." This was the act of
God, and on the papers procured from the alcalde at that time, I
understand, was built a huge speculation, by which thousands of
dollars changed hands in the United States and were lost. This
happened long before the celebrated McGarrahan claim, which has
produced so much noise, and which still is being prosecuted in the
courts and in Congress.
On the next day we crossed over the Santa Cruz Mountains, from
which we had sublime views of the scenery, first looking east
toward the lower Bay of San Francisco, with the bright plains of
Santa Clara and San Jose, and then to the west upon the ocean, the
town of Monterey being visible sixty miles off. If my memory is
correct, we beheld from that mountain the firing of a salute from
the battery at Monterey, and counted the number of guns from the
white puffs of smoke, but could not hear the sound. That night we
slept on piles of wheat in a mill at Soquel, near Santa Cruz, and,
our supplies being short, I advised that we should make an early
start next morning, so as to reach the ranch of Don Juan Antonio
Vallejo, a particular friend, who had a large and valuable
cattle-ranch on the Pajaro River, about twenty miles on our way to
Monterey. Accordingly, we were off by the first light of day, and
by nine o'clock we had reached the ranch. It was on a high point
of the plateau, overlooking the plain of the Pajaro, on which were
grazing numbers of horses and cattle. The house was of adobe, with
a long range of adobe-huts occupied by the semi-civilized Indians,
who at that time did all the labor of a ranch, the herding and
marking of cattle, breaking of horses, and cultivating the little
patches of wheat and vegetables which constituted all the farming
of that day. Every thing about the house looked deserted, and,
seeing a small Indian boy leaning up against a post, I approached
him and asked him in Spanish, "Where is the master?" "Gone to the
Presidio" (Monterey). "Is anybody in the house?" "No." "Is it
locked up?" "Yes." "Is no one about who can get in?" "No."
"Have you any meat?" "No." "Any flour or grain?" "No." "Any
chickens?" "No." "Any eggs?" "No." "What do you live on?"
"Nada" (nothing). The utter indifference of this boy, and the
tone of his answer "Nada," attracted the attention of Colonel
Mason, who had been listening to our conversation, and who
knew enough of Spanish to catch the meaning, and he exclaimed
with some feeling, "So we get nada for our breakfast." I felt
mortified, for I had held out the prospect of a splendid
breakfast of meat and tortillas with rice, chickens, eggs, etc., at
the ranch of my friend Josh Antonio, as a justification for
taking the Governor, a man of sixty years of age, more than
twenty miles at a full canter for his breakfast. But there was
no help for it, and we accordingly went a short distance to a
pond, where we unpacked our mules and made a slim breakfast; on
some scraps of hard bread and a bone of pork that remained in our
alforjas. This was no uncommon thing in those days, when many
a ranchero with his eleven leagues of land, his hundreds of
horses and thousands of cattle, would receive us with all the
grandiloquence of a Spanish lord, and confess that he had nothing
in his house to eat except the carcass of a beef hung up, from
which the stranger might cut and cook, without money or price, what
he needed. That night we slept on Salinas Plain, and the next
morning reached Monterey. All the missions and houses at that
period were alive with fleas, which the natives looked on as
pleasant titillators, but they so tortured me that I always gave
them a wide berth, and slept on a saddle-blanket, with the saddle
for a pillow and the serape, or blanket, for a cover. We never
feared rain except in winter. As the spring and summer of 1848
advanced, the reports came faster and faster from the gold-mines at
Sutter's saw-mill. Stories reached us of fabulous discoveries, and
spread throughout the land. Everybody was talking of "Gold!
gold!" until it assumed the character of a fever. Some of our
soldiers began to desert; citizens were fitting out trains of
wagons and packmules to go to the mines. We heard of men earning
fifty, five hundred, and thousands of dollars per day, and for a
time it seemed as though somebody would reach solid gold. Some of
this gold began to come to Yerba Buena in trade, and to disturb the
value of merchandise, particularly of mules, horses, tin pans, and
articles used in mining: I of course could not escape the
infection, and at last convinced Colonel Mason that it was our duty
to go up and see with our own eyes, that we might report the truth
to our Government. As yet we had no regular mail to any part of
the United States, but mails had come to us at long intervals,
around Cape Horn, and one or two overland. I well remember the
first overland mail. It was brought by Kit Carson in saddle-bags
from Taos in New Mexico. We heard of his arrival at Los Angeles,
and waited patiently for his arrival at headquarters. His fame
then was at its height, from the publication of Fremont's books,
and I was very anxious to see a man who had achieved such feats of
daring among the wild animals of the Rocky Mountains, and still
wilder Indians of the Plains. At last his arrival was reported at
the tavern at Monterey, and I hurried to hunt him up. I cannot
express my surprise at beholding a small, stoop-shouldered man,
with reddish hair, freckled face, soft blue eyes, and nothing to
indicate extraordinary courage or daring. He spoke but little, and
answered questions in monosyllables. I asked for his mail, and he
picked up his light saddle-bags containing the great overland mail,
and we walked together to headquarters, where he delivered his
parcel into Colonel Mason's own hands. He spent some days in
Monterey, during which time we extracted with difficulty some items
of his personal history. He was then by commission a lieutenant in
the regiment of Mounted Rifles serving in Mexico under Colonel
Sumner, and, as he could not reach his regiment from California,
Colonel Mason ordered that for a time he should be assigned to duty
with A. J. Smith's company, First Dragoons, at Los Angeles. He
remained at Los Angeles some months, and was then sent back to the
United Staten with dispatches, traveling two thousand miles almost
alone, in preference to being encumbered by a large party.
Toward the close of June, 1848, the gold-fever being at its height,
by Colonel Mason's orders I made preparations for his trip to the
newly-discovered gold-mines at Sutter's Fort. I selected four good
soldiers, with Aaron, Colonel Mason's black servant, and a good
outfit of horses and pack-mules, we started by the usually traveled
route for Yerba Buena. There Captain Fulsom and two citizens
joined our party. The first difficulty was to cross the bay to
Saucelito. Folsom, as quartermaster, had a sort of scow with a
large sail, with which to discharge the cargoes of ships, that
could not come within a mile of the shore. It took nearly the
whole day to get the old scow up to the only wharf there, and then
the water was so shallow that the scow, with its load of horses,
would not float at the first high tide, but by infinite labor on
the next tide she was got off and safely crossed over to Saucelito.
We followed in a more comfortable schooner. Having safely landed
our horses and mules, we picked up and rode to San Rafael Mission,
stopping with Don Timoteo Murphy. The next day's journey took us
to Bodega, where lived a man named Stephen Smith, who had the only
steam saw-mill in California. He had a Peruvian wife, and employed
a number of absolutely naked Indians in making adobes. We spent a
day very pleasantly with him, and learned that he had come to
California some years before, at the personal advice of Daniel
Webster, who had informed him that sooner or later the United
States would be in possession of California, and that in
consequence it would become a great country. From Bodega we
traveled to Sonoma, by way of Petaluma, and spent a day with
General Vallejo. I had been there before, as related, in the
business of the alcalde Nash. From Sonoma we crossed over by way
of Napa, Suisun, and Vaca's ranch, to the Puta. In the rainy
season, the plain between the Puta and Sacramento Rivers is
impassable, but in July the waters dry up; and we passed without
trouble, by the trail for Sutter's Embarcadero. We reached the
Sacramento River, then full of water, with a deep, clear current.
The only means of crossing over was by an Indian dugout canoe. We
began by carrying across our packs and saddles, and then our
people. When all things were ready, the horses were driven into
the water, one being guided ahead by a man in the canoe. Of
course, the horses and mules at first refused to take to the water,
and it was nearly a day's work to get them across, and even then
some of our animals after crossing escaped into the woods and
undergrowth that lined the river, but we secured enough of them to
reach Sutter's Fort, three miles back from the embcarcadero, where
we encamped at the old slough, or pond, near the fort. On
application, Captain Butter sent some Indians back into the bushes,
who recovered and brought in all our animals. At that time there
was not the sign of a habitation there or thereabouts, except the
fort, and an old adobe-house, east of the fort, known as the
hospital. The fort itself was one of adobe-walls, about twenty
feet high, rectangular in form, with two-story block houses at
diagonal corners. The entrance was by a large gate, open by day
and closed at night, with two iron ship's guns near at hand.
Inside there was a large house, with a good shingle-roof, used as a
storehouse, and all round the walls were ranged rooms, the fort
wall being the outer wall of the house. The inner wall also was of
adobe. These rooms were used by Captain Sutter himself and by his
people. He had a blacksmith's shop, carpenter's shop, etc., and
other rooms where the women made blankets. Sutter was monarch of
all he surveyed, and had authority to inflict punishment even unto
death, a power he did not fail to use. He had horses, cattle, and
sheep, and of these he gave liberally and without price to all in
need. He caused to be driven into our camp a beef and some sheep,
which were slaughtered for our use. Already the goldmines were
beginning to be felt. Many people were then encamped, some going
and some coming, all full of gold-stories, and each surpassing the
other. We found preparations in progress for celebrating the
Fourth of July, then close at hand, and we agreed to remain over to
assist on the occasion; of course, being the high officials, we
were the honored guests. People came from a great distance to
attend this celebration of the Fourth of July, and the tables were
laid in the large room inside the storehouse of the fort. A man of
some note, named Sinclair, presided, and after a substantial meal
and a reasonable supply of aguardiente we began the toasts. All
that I remember is that Folsom and I spoke for our party; others,
Captain Sutter included, made speeches, and before the celebration
was over Sutter was enthusiastic, and many others showed the
effects of the aguardiente. The next day (namely, July 5, 1848) we
resumed our journey toward the mines, and, in twenty-five miles of
as hot and dusty a ride as possible, we reached Mormon Island. I
have heretofore stated that the gold was first found in the
tail-race of the stew-mill at Coloma, forty miles above Sutter's
Fort, or fifteen above Mormon Island, in the bed of the American
Fork of the Sacramento River. It seems that Sutter had employed an
American named Marshall, a sort of millwright, to do this work for
him, but Marshall afterward claimed that in the matter of the
saw-mill they were copartners. At all events, Marshall and the
family of Mr. Wimmer were living at Coloma, where the pine-trees
afforded the best material for lumber. He had under him four white
men, Mormons, who had been discharged from Cooke's battalion, and
some Indians. These were engaged in hewing logs, building a
mill-dam, and putting up a saw-mill. Marshall, as the architect,
had made the "tub-wheel," and had set it in motion, and had also
furnished some of the rude parts of machinery necessary for an
ordinary up-and-down saw-mill.
Labor was very scarce, expensive, and had to be economized. The
mill was built over a dry channel of the river which was calculated
to be the tail-race. After arranging his head-race, dam and
tub-wheel, he let on the water to test the goodness of his
machinery. It worked very well until it was found that the
tail-race did not carry off the water fast enough, so he put his
men to work in a rude way to clear out the tail-race. They
scratched a kind of ditch down the middle of the dry channel,
throwing the coarser stones to one side; then, letting on the water
again, it would run with velocity down the channel, washing away
the dirt, thus saving labor. This course of action was repeated
several times, acting exactly like the long Tom afterward resorted
to by the miners. As Marshall himself was working in this ditch,
he observed particles of yellow metal which he gathered up in his
hand, when it seemed to have suddenly flashed across his mind that
it was gold. After picking up about an ounce, he hurried down to
the fort to report to Captain Sutter his discovery. Captain Sutter
himself related to me Marshall's account, saying that, as he sat in
his room at the fort one day in February or March, 1848, a knock
was heard at his door, and he called out, "Come in." In walked
Marshall, who was a half-crazy man at best, but then looked
strangely wild. "What is the matter, Marshall!" Marshall
inquired if any one was within hearing, and began to peer about the
room, and look under the bed, when Sutter, fearing that some
calamity had befallen the party up at the saw-mill, and that
Marshall was really crazy, began to make his way to the door,
demanding of Marshall to explain what was the matter. At last he
revealed his discovery, and laid before Captain Sutter the
pellicles of gold he had picked up in the ditch. At first, Sutter
attached little or no importance to the discovery, and told
Marshall to go back to the mill, and say nothing of what he had
seen to Mr. Wimmer, or any one else. Yet, as it might add value to
the location, he dispatched to our headquarters at Monterey, as I
have already related, the two men with a written application for a
preemption to the quarter-section of land at Coloma. Marshall
returned to the mill, but could not keep out of his wonderful
ditch, and by some means the other men employed there learned his
secret. They then wanted to gather the gold, and Marshall
threatened to shoot them if they attempted it; but these men had
sense enough to know that if "placer"-gold existed at Coloma, it
would also be found farther down-stream, and they gradually
"prospected" until they reached Mormon Island, fifteen miles below,
where they discovered one of the richest placers on earth. These
men revealed the fact to some other Mormons who were employed by
Captain Sutter at a grist-mill he was building still lower down the
American Fork, and six miles above his fort. All of them struck
for higher wages, to which Sutter yielded, until they asked ten
dollars a day, which he refused, and the two mills on which he had
spent so much money were never built, and fell into decay.
In my opinion, when the Mormons were driven from Nauvoo, Illinois,
in 1844, they cast about for a land where they would not be
disturbed again, and fixed on California. In the year 1845 a ship,
the Brooklyn, sailed from New York for California, with a colony of
Mormons, of which Sam Brannan was the leader, and we found them
there on our arrival in January, 1847. When General Kearney, at
Fort Leavenworth, was collecting volunteers early in 1846, for the
Mexican War, he, through the instrumentality of Captain James
Allen, brother to our quartermaster, General Robert Allen, raised
the battalion of Mormons at Kanesville, Iowa, now Council Bluffs,
on the express understanding that it would facilitate their
migration to California. But when the Mormons reached Salt Lake,
in 1846, they learned that they had been forestalled by the United
States forces in California, and they then determined to settle
down where they were. Therefore, when this battalion of five
companies of Mormons (raised by Allen, who died on the way, and was
succeeded by Cooke) was discharged at Los Angeles, California, in
the early summer of 1847, most of the men went to their people at
Salt Lake, with all the money received, as pay from the United
States, invested in cattle and breeding-horses; one company
reenlisted for another year, and the remainder sought work in the
country. As soon as the fame of the gold discovery spread through
California, the Mormons naturally turned to Mormon Island, so that
in July, 1848, we found about three hundred of them there at work.
Sam Brannan was on hand as the high-priest, collecting the tithes.
Clark, of Clark's Point, an early pioneer, was there also, and
nearly all the Mormons who had come out in the Brooklyn, or who had
staid in California after the discharge of their battalion, had
collected there. I recall the scene as perfectly to-day as though
it were yesterday. In the midst of a broken country, all parched
and dried by the hot sun of July, sparsely wooded with live-oaks
and straggling pines, lay the valley of the American River, with
its bold mountain-stream coming out of the Snowy Mountains to the
east. In this valley is a fiat, or gravel-bed, which in high water
is an island, or is overflown, but at the time of our visit was
simply a level gravel-bed of the river. On its edges men were
digging, and filling buckets with the finer earth and gravel, which
was carried to a machine made like a baby's cradle, open at the
foot, and at the head a plate of sheet-iron or zinc, punctured full
of holes. On this metallic plate was emptied the earth, and water
was then poured on it from buckets, while one man shook the cradle
with violent rocking by a handle. On the bottom were nailed cleats
of wood. With this rude machine four men could earn from forty to
one hundred dollars a day, averaging sixteen dollars, or a gold
ounce, per man per day. While the' sun blazed down on the heads of
the miners with tropical heat, the water was bitter cold, and all
hands were either standing in the water or had their clothes wet
all the time; yet there were no complaints of rheumatism or cold.
We made our camp on a small knoll, a little below the island, and
from it could overlook the busy scene. A few bush-huts near by
served as stores, boardinghouses, and for sleeping; but all hands
slept on the ground, with pine-leaves and blankets for bedding. As
soon as the news spread that the Governor was there, persons came
to see us, and volunteered all kinds of information, illustrating
it by samples of the gold, which was of a uniform kind,
"scale-gold," bright and beautiful. A large variety, of every
conceivable shape and form, was found in the smaller gulches round
about, but the gold in the river-bed was uniformly "scale-gold." I
remember that Mr. Clark was in camp, talking to Colonel Mason about
matters and things generally, when he inquired, "Governor, what
business has Sam Brannan to collect the tithes here?" Clark
admitted that Brannan was the head of the Mormon church in
California, and he was simply questioning as to Brannan's right, as
high-priest, to compel the Mormons to pay him the regular tithes.
Colonel Mason answered, "Brannan has a perfect right to collect the
tax, if you Mormons are fools enough to pay it." "Then," said
Clark, "I for one won't pay it any longer." Colonel Mason added:
"This is public land, and the gold is the property of the United
States; all of you here are trespassers, but, as the Government is
benefited by your getting out the gold, I do not intend to
interfere." I understood, afterward, that from that time the
payment of the tithes ceased, but Brannan had already collected
enough money wherewith to hire Sutter's hospital, and to open a
store there, in which he made more money than any merchant in
California, during that summer and fall. The understanding was, that
the money collected by him as tithes was the foundation of his
fortune, which is still very large in San Francisco. That evening
we all mingled freely with the miners, and witnessed the process of
cleaning up and "panning" out, which is the last process for
separating the pure gold from the fine dirt and black sand.
The next day we continued our journey up the valley of the American
Fork, stopping at various camps, where mining was in progress; and
about noon we reached Coloma, the place where gold had been first
discovered. The hills were higher, and the timber of better
quality. The river was narrower and bolder, and but few miners
were at work there, by reason of Marshall's and Sutter's claim to
the site. There stood the sawmill unfinished, the dam and
tail-race just as they were left when the Mormons ceased work.
Marshall and Wimmer's family of wife and half a dozen children were
there, guarding their supposed treasure; living in a house made of
clapboards. Here also we were shown many specimens of gold, of a
coarser grain than that found at Mormon Island. The next day we
crossed the American River to its north side, and visited many
small camps of men, in what were called the "dry diggings." Little
pools of water stood in the beds of the streams, and these were
used to wash the dirt; and there the gold was in every conceivable
shape and size, some of the specimens weighing several ounces.
Some of these "diggings" were extremely rich, but as a whole they
were more precarious in results than at the river. Sometimes a
lucky fellow would hit on a "pocket," and collect several thousand
dollars in a few days, and then again he would be shifting about
from place to place, "prospecting," and spending all he had made.
Little stores were being opened at every point, where flour, bacon,
etc., were sold; every thing being a dollar a pound, and a meal
usually costing three dollars. Nobody paid for a bed, for he slept
on the ground, without fear of cold or rain. We spent nearly a
week in that region, and were quite bewildered by the fabulous
tales of recent discoveries, which at the time were confined to the
several forks of the American and Yuba Rivers.' All this time our
horses had nothing to eat but the sparse grass in that region, and
we were forced to work our way down toward the Sacramento Valley,
or to see our animals perish. Still we contemplated a visit to the
Yuba and Feather Rivers, from which we had heard of more wonderful
"diggings;" but met a courier, who announced the arrival of a ship
at Monterey, with dispatches of great importance from Mazatlan. We
accordingly turned our horses back to Sutter's Fort. Crossing the
Sacramento again by swimming our horses, and ferrying their loads
in that solitary canoe, we took our back track as far as the Napa,
and then turned to Benicia, on Carquinez Straits. We found there a
solitary adobe-house, occupied by Mr. Hastings and his family,
embracing Dr. Semple, the proprietor of the ferry. This ferry was
a ship's-boat, with a latteen-sail, which could carry across at one
time six or eight horses.
It took us several days to cross over, and during that time we got
well acquainted with the doctor, who was quite a character. He had
come to California from Illinois, and was brother to Senator
Semple. He was about seven feet high, and very intelligent. When
we first reached Monterey, he had a printing-press, which belonged
to the United States, having been captured at the custom-house, and
had been used to print custom-house blanks. With this Dr. Semple,
as editor, published the Californian, a small sheet of news, once a
week; and it was a curiosity in its line, using two v's for a w,
and other combinations of letters, made necessary by want of type.
After some time he removed to Yerba Buena with his paper, and it
grew up to be the Alta California of today. Foreseeing, as he
thought, the growth of a great city somewhere on the Bay of San
Francisco, he selected Carquinez Straits as its location, and
obtained from General Vallejo a title to a league of land, on
condition of building up a city thereon to bear the name of
Vallejo's wife. This was Francisca Benicia; accordingly, the new
city was named "Francisca." At this time, the town near the mouth
of the bay was known universally as Yerba Buena; but that name was
not known abroad, although San Francisco was familiar to the whole
civilized world. Now, some of the chief men of Yerba Buena,
Folsom, Howard, Leidesdorf, and others, knowing the importance of a
name, saw their danger, and, by some action of the ayuntamiento, or
town council, changed the name of Yerba Buena to "San Francisco."
Dr. Semple was outraged at their changing the name to one so like
his of Francisca, and he in turn changed his town to the other name
of Mrs. Vallejo, viz., "Benicia;" and Benicia it has remained to
this day. I am convinced that this little circumstance was big
with consequences. That Benicia has the best natural site for a
commercial city, I am, satisfied; and had half the money and half
the labor since bestowed upon San Francisco been expended at
Benicia, we should have at this day a city of palaces on the
Carquinez Straits. The name of "San Francisco," however, fixed the
city where it now is; for every ship in 1848-'49, which cleared
from any part of the world, knew the name of San Francisco, but not
Yerba Buena or Benicia; and, accordingly, ships consigned to
California came pouring in with their contents, and were anchored
in front of Yerba Buena, the first town. Captains and crews
deserted for the gold-mines, and now half the city in front of
Montgomery Street is built over the hulks thus abandoned. But Dr.
Semple, at that time, was all there was of Benicia; he was captain
and crew of his ferry boat, and managed to pass our party to the
south side of Carquinez Straits in about two days.
Thence we proceeded up Amador Valley to Alameda Creek, and so on to
the old mission of San Jose; thence to the pueblo of San Jose,
where Folsom and those belonging in Yerba Buena went in that
direction, and we continued on to Monterey, our party all the way
giving official sanction to the news from the gold-mines, and
adding new force to the "fever."
On reaching Monterey, we found dispatches from Commodore Shubrick,
at Mazatlan, which gave almost positive assurance that the war with
Mexico was over; that hostilities had ceased, and commissioners
were arranging the terms of peace at Guadalupe Hidalgo. It was
well that this news reached California at that critical time; for
so contagious had become the "gold-fever" that everybody was
bound to go and try his fortune, and the volunteer regiment of
Stevenson's would have deserted en masse, had the men not been
assured that they would very soon be entitled to an honorable
discharge.
Many of our regulars did desert, among them the very men who had
escorted us faithfully to the mines and back. Our servants also
left us, and nothing less than three hundred dollars a month would
hire a man in California; Colonel Mason's black boy, Aaron, alone
of all our then servants proving faithful. We were forced to
resort to all manner of shifts to live. First, we had a mess with
a black fellow we called Bustamente as cook; but he got the fever,
and had to go. We next took a soldier, but he deserted, and
carried off my double-barreled shot-gun, which I prized very
highly. To meet this condition of facts, Colonel Mason ordered
that liberal furloughs should be given to the soldiers, and
promises to all in turn, and he allowed all the officers to draw
their rations in kind. As the actual valve of the ration was very
large, this enabled us to live. Halleck, Murray, Ord, and I,
boarded with Dona Augustias, and turned in our rations as pay for
our board.
Some time in September, 1848, the official news of the treaty of
peace reached us, and the Mexican War was over. This treaty was
signed in May, and came to us all the way by land by a courier from
Lower California, sent from La Paz by Lieutenant-Colonel Burton.
On its receipt, orders were at once made for the muster-out of all
of Stevenson's regiment, and our military forces were thus reduced
to the single company of dragoons at Los Angeles, and the one
company of artillery at Monterey. Nearly all business had ceased,
except that connected with gold; and, during that fall, Colonel
Mason, Captain Warner, and I, made another trip up to Sutter's
Fort, going also to the newly-discovered mines on the Stanislaus,
called "Sonora," named from the miners of Sonora, Mexico, who had
first discovered them. We found there pretty much the same state
of facts as before existed at Mormon Island and Coloma, and we
daily received intelligence of the opening of still other mines
north and south.
But I have passed over a very interesting fact. As soon as we had
returned from our first visit to the gold-mines, it became
important to send home positive knowledge of this valuable
discovery. The means of communication with the United States were
very precarious, and I suggested to Colonel Mason that a special
courier ought to be sent; that Second-Lieutenant Loeser had been
promoted to first-lieutenant, and was entitled to go home. He was
accordingly detailed to carry the news. I prepared with great care
the letter to the adjutant-general of August 17, 1848, which
Colonel Mason modified in a few Particulars; and, as it was
important to send not only the specimens which had been presented
to us along our route of travel, I advised the colonel to allow
Captain Folsom to purchase and send to Washington a large sample of
the commercial gold in general use, and to pay for the same out of
the money in his hands known as the "civil fund," arising from
duties collected at the several ports in California. He consented
to this, and Captain Folsom bought an oyster-can full at ten
dollars the ounce, which was the rate of value at which it was then
received at the custom house. Folsom was instructed further to
contract with some vessel to carry the messenger to South America,
where he could take the English steamers as far east as Jamaica,
with a conditional charter giving increased payment if the vessel
could catch the October steamer. Folsom chartered the bark La
Lambayecana, owned and navigated by Henry D. Cooke, who has since
been the Governor of the District of Columbia. In due time this
vessel reached Monterey, and Lieutenant Loeser, with his report and
specimens of gold, embarked and sailed. He reached the South
American Continent at Payta, Peru, in time; took the English
steamer of October to Panama, and thence went on to Kingston,
Jamaica, where he found a sailing vessel bound for New Orleans. On
reaching New Orleans, he telegraphed to the War Department his
arrival; but so many delays had occurred that he did not reach
Washington in time to have the matter embraced in the President's
regular message of 1848, as we had calculated. Still, the
President made it the subject of a special message, and thus became
"official" what had before only reached the world in a very
indefinite shape. Then began that wonderful development, and the
great emigration to California, by land and by sea, of 1849 and
1850.
As before narrated, Mason, Warner, and I, made a second visit to
the mines in September and October, 1848. As the winter season
approached, Colonel Mason returned to Monterey, and I remained for
a time at Sutter's Fort. In order to share somewhat in the riches
of the land, we formed a partnership in a store at Coloma, in
charge of Norman S. Bestor, who had been Warner's clerk. We
supplied the necessary money, fifteen hundred dollars (five hundred
dollars each), and Bestor carried on the store at Coloma for his
share. Out of this investment, each of us realized a profit of
about fifteen hundred dollars. Warner also got a regular leave of
absence, and contracted with Captain Sutter for surveying and
locating the town of Sacramento. He received for this sixteen
dollars per day for his services as surveyor; and Sutter paid all
the hands engaged in the work. The town was laid off mostly up
about the fort, but a few streets were staked off along the river
bank, and one or two leading to it. Captain Sutter always
contended, however, that no town could possibly exist on the
immediate bank of the river, because the spring freshets rose over
the bank, and frequently it was necessary to swim a horse to reach
the boat-landing. Nevertheless, from the very beginning the town
began to be built on the very river-bank, viz., First, Second, and
Third Streets, with J and K Streets leading back. Among the
principal merchants and traders of that winter, at Sacramento, were
Sam Brannan and Hensley, Reading & Co. For several years the site
was annually flooded; but the people have persevered in building
the levees, and afterward in raising all the streets, so that
Sacramento is now a fine city, the capital of the State, and stands
where, in 1848, was nothing but a dense mass of bushes, vines, and
submerged land. The old fort has disappeared altogether.
During the fall of 1848, Warner, Ord, and I, camped on the bank of
the American River, abreast of the fort, at what was known as the
"Old Tan-Yard." I was cook, Ord cleaned up the dishes, and Warner
looked after the horses; but Ord was deposed as scullion because he
would only wipe the tin plates with a tuft of grass, according to
the custom of the country, whereas Warner insisted on having them
washed after each meal with hot water. Warner was in consequence
promoted to scullion, and Ord became the hostler. We drew our
rations in kind from the commissary at San Francisco, who sent them
up to us by a boat; and we were thus enabled to dispense a generous
hospitality to many a poor devil who otherwise would have had
nothing to eat.
The winter of 1848 '49 was a period of intense activity throughout
California. The rainy season was unfavorable to the operations of
gold-mining, and was very hard upon the thousands of houseless men
and women who dwelt in the mountains, and even in the towns. Most
of the natives and old inhabitants had returned to their ranches
and houses; yet there were not roofs enough in the country to
shelter the thousands who had arrived by sea and by land. The news
had gone forth to the whole civilized world that gold in fabulous
quantities was to be had for the mere digging, and adventurers came
pouring in blindly to seek their fortunes, without a thought of
house or food. Yerba Buena had been converted into San Francisco.
Sacramento City had been laid out, lots were being rapidly sold,
and the town was being built up as an entrepot to the mines.
Stockton also had been chosen as a convenient point for trading
with the lower or southern mines. Captain Sutter was the sole
proprietor of the former, and Captain Charles Weber was the owner
of the site of Stockton, which was as yet known as "French Camp."
CHAPTER III.
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS OF CALIFORNIA--(CONTINUED).
1849-1850.
The department headquarters still remained at Monterey, but, with
the few soldiers, we had next to nothing to do. In midwinter we
heard of the approach of a battalion of the Second Dragoons, under
Major Lawrence Pike Graham, with Captains Rucker, Coutts, Campbell,
and others, along. So exhausted were they by their long march from
Upper Mexico that we had to send relief to meet them as they
approached. When this command reached Los Angeles, it was left
there as the garrison, and Captain A. J. Smith's company of the
First Dragoons was brought up to San Francisco. We were also
advised that the Second Infantry, Colonel B. Riley, would be sent
out around Cape Horn in sailing-ships; that the Mounted Rifles,
under Lieutenant-Colonel Loring, would march overland to Oregon;
and that Brigadier-General Persifer F. Smith would come out in
chief command on the Pacific coast. It was also known that a
contract had been entered into with parties in New York and New
Orleans for a monthly line of steamers from those cities to
California, via Panama. Lieutenant-Colonel Burton had come up from
Lower California, and, as captain of the Third Artillery, he was
assigned to command Company F, Third Artillery, at Monterey.
Captain Warner remained at Sacramento, surveying; and Halleck,
Murray, Ord, and I, boarded with Dona Augustias. The season was
unusually rainy and severe, but we passed the time with the usual
round of dances and parties. The time fixed for the arrival of the
mail-steamer was understood to be about January 1, 1849, but the
day came and went without any tidings of her. Orders were given to
Captain Burton to announce her arrival by firing a national
salute, and each morning we listened for the guns from the fort.
The month of January passed, and the greater part of February, too.
As was usual, the army officers celebrated the 22d of February with
a grand ball, given in the new stone school-house, which Alcalde
Walter Colton had built. It was the largest and best hall then in
California. The ball was really a handsome affair, and we kept it
up nearly all night. The next morning we were at breakfast:
present, Dona Augustias, and Manuelita, Halleck, Murray, and
myself. We were dull and stupid enough until a gun from the fort
aroused us, then another and another. "The steamer" exclaimed all,
and, without waiting for hats or any thing, off we dashed. I
reached the wharf hatless, but the dona sent my cap after me by a
servant. The white puffs of smoke hung around the fort, mingled
with the dense fog, which hid all the water of the bay, and well
out to sea could be seen the black spars of some unknown vessel.
At the wharf I found a group of soldiers and a small row-boat,
which belonged to a brig at anchor in the bay. Hastily ordering a
couple of willing soldiers to get in and take the oars, and Mr.
Larkin and Mr. Hartnell asking to go along, we jumped in and pushed
off. Steering our boat toward the spars, which loomed up above the
fog clear and distinct, in about a mile we came to the black hull
of the strange monster, the long-expected and most welcome steamer
California. Her wheels were barely moving, for her pilot could not
see the shore-line distinctly, though the hills and Point of Pines
could be clearly made out over the fog, and occasionally a glimpse
of some white walls showed where the town lay. A "Jacob's ladder"
was lowered for us from the steamer, and in a minute I scrambled up
on deck, followed by Larkin and Hartnell, and we found ourselves
in the midst of many old friends. There was Canby, the
adjutant-general, who was to take my place; Charley Hoyt, my cousin;
General Persifer F. Smith and wife; Gibbs, his aide-de-camp; Major
Ogden, of the Engineers, and wife; and, indeed, many old
Californians, among them Alfred Robinson, and Frank Ward with his
pretty bride. By the time the ship was fairly at anchor we had
answered a million of questions about gold and the state of the
country; and, learning that the ship was out of fuel, had informed
the captain (Marshall) that there was abundance of pine-wood, but no
willing hands to cut it; that no man could be hired at less than an
ounce of gold a day, unless the soldiers would volunteer to do it
for some agreed-upon price. As for coal, there was not a pound in
Monterey, or anywhere else in California. Vessels with coal were
known to be en route around Cape Horn, but none had yet reached
California.
The arrival of this steamer was the beginning of a new epoch on the
Pacific coast; yet there she lay, helpless, without coal or fuel.
The native Californians, who had never seen a steamship, stood for
days on the beach looking at her, with the universal exclamation,
"Tan feo!"--how ugly!--and she was truly ugly when compared with
the clean, well-sparred frigates and sloops-of-war that had
hitherto been seen on the North Pacific coast. It was first
supposed it would take ten days to get wood enough to prosecute her
voyage, and therefore all the passengers who could took up their
quarters on shore. Major Canby relieved me, and took the place I
had held so long as adjutant-general of the Department of
California. The time seemed most opportune for me to leave the
service, as I had several splendid offers of employment and of
partnership, and, accordingly, I made my written resignation; but
General Smith put his veto upon it, saying that he was to command
the Division of the Pacific, while General Riley was to have the
Department of California, and Colonel Loring that of Oregon. He
wanted me as his adjutant-general, because of my familiarity with
the country, and knowledge of its then condition: At the time, he
had on his staff Gibbs as aide-de-camp, and Fitzgerald as
quartermaster. He also had along with him quite a retinue of
servants, hired with a clear contract to serve him for a whole year
after reaching California, every one of whom deserted, except a
young black fellow named Isaac. Mrs. Smith, a pleasant but
delicate Louisiana lady, had a white maid-servant, in whose
fidelity she had unbounded confidence; but this girl was married to
a perfect stranger, and off before she had even landed in San
Francisco. It was, therefore, finally arranged that, on the
California, I was to accompany General Smith to San Francisco as
his adjutant-general. I accordingly sold some of my horses, and
arranged for others to go up by land; and from that time I became
fairly enlisted in the military family of General Persifer F.
Smith.
I parted with my old commander, Colonel Mason, with sincere regret.
To me he had ever been kind and considerate, and, while stern,
honest to a fault, he was the very embodiment of the principle of
fidelity to the interests of the General Government. He possessed
a native strong intellect, and far more knowledge of the principles
of civil government and law than he got credit for. In private and
public expenditures he was extremely economical, but not penurious.
In cases where the officers had to contribute money for parties and
entertainments, he always gave a double share, because of his
allowance of double rations. During our frequent journeys, I was
always caterer, and paid all the bills. In settling with him he
required a written statement of the items of account, but never
disputed one of them. During our time, California was, as now,
full of a bold, enterprising, and speculative set of men, who were
engaged in every sort of game to make money. I know that
Colonel-Mason was beset by them to use his position to make a
fortune for himself and his friends; but he never bought land or
town-lots, because, he said, it was his place to hold the public
estate for the Government as free and unencumbered by claims as
possible; and when I wanted him to stop the public-land sales in San
Francisco, San Jose, etc., he would not; for, although he did not
believe the titles given by the alcaldes worth a cent, yet they
aided to settle the towns and public lands, and he thought, on the
whole, the Government would be benefited thereby. The same thing
occurred as to the gold-mines. He never took a title to a town lot,
unless it was one, of no real value, from Alcalde Colton, in
Monterey, of which I have never heard since. He did take a share in
the store which Warner, Beator, and I, opened at Coloma, paid his
share of the capital, five hundred dollars, and received his share
of the profits, fifteen hundred dollars. I think also he took a
share in a venture to China with Larkin and others; but, on leaving
California, he was glad to sell out without profit or loss. In the
stern discharge of his duty he made some bitter enemies, among them
Henry M. Naglee, who, in the newspapers of the day, endeavored to
damage his fair name. But, knowing him intimately, I am certain
that he is entitled to all praise for having so controlled the
affairs of the country that, when his successor arrived, all things
were so disposed that a civil form of government was an easy matter
of adjustment. Colonel Mason was relieved by General Riley some
time in April, and left California in the steamer of the 1st May for
Washington and St. Louis, where he died of cholera in the summer of
1850, and his body is buried in Bellefontaine Cemetery. His widow
afterward married Major (since General) Don Carlos Buell, and is now
living in Kentucky.
In overhauling the hold of the steamer California, as she lay at
anchor in Monterey Bay, a considerable amount of coal was found
under some heavy duplicate machinery. With this, and such wood as
had been gathered, she was able to renew her voyage. The usual
signal was made, and we all went on board. About the 1st of March
we entered the Heads, and anchored off San Francisco, near the
United States line-of-battle-ship Ohio, Commodore T. Catesby Jones.
As was the universal custom of the day, the crew of the California
deserted her; and she lay for months unable to make a trip back to
Panama, as was expected of her. As soon as we reached San
Francisco, the first thing was to secure an office and a house to
live in. The weather was rainy and stormy, and snow even lay on
the hills back of the Mission. Captain Folsom, the quartermaster,
agreed to surrender for our office the old adobe custom house, on
the upper corner of the plaza, as soon as he could remove his
papers and effects down to one of his warehouses on the beach; and
he also rented for us as quarters the old Hudson Bay Company house
on Montgomery Street, which had been used by Howard & Mellua as a
store, and at that very time they were moving their goods into a
larger brick building just completed for them. As these changes
would take some time, General Smith and Colonel Ogden, with their
wives, accepted the hospitality offered by Commodore Jones on board
the Ohio. I opened the office at the custom house, and Gibbs,
Fitzgerald, and some others of us, slept in the loft of the Hudson
Bay Company house until the lower part was cleared of Howard's
store, after which General Smith and the ladies moved in. There we
had a general mess, and the efforts at house-keeping were simply
ludicrous. One servant after another, whom General Smith had
brought from New Orleans, with a solemn promise to stand by him for
one whole year, deserted without a word of notice or explanation,
and in a few days none remained but little Isaac. The ladies had
no maid or attendants; and the general, commanding all the mighty
forces of the United States on the Pacific coast, had to scratch to
get one good meal a day for his family! He was a gentleman of fine
social qualities, genial and gentle, and joked at every thing.
Poor Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Ogden did not bear it so philosophically.
Gibbs, Fitzgerald, and I, could cruise around and find a meal,
which cost three dollars, at some of the many restaurants which had
sprung up out of red-wood boards and cotton lining; but the general
and ladies could not go out, for ladies were rara aves at that day
in California. Isaac was cook, chamber-maid, and everything,
thoughtless of himself, and struggling, out of the slimmest means,
to compound a breakfast for a large and hungry family. Breakfast
would be announced any time between ten and twelve, and dinner
according to circumstances. Many a time have I seen General Smith,
with a can of preserved meat in his hands, going toward the house,
take off his hat on meeting a negro, and, on being asked the reason
of his politeness, he would answer that they were the only real
gentlemen in California. I confess that the fidelity of Colonel
Mason's boy "Aaron," and of General Smith's boy "Isaac," at a time
when every white man laughed at promises as something made to be
broken, has given me a kindly feeling of respect for the negroes,
and makes me hope that they will find an honorable "status" in the
jumble of affairs in which we now live.
That was a dull hard winter in San Francisco; the rains were heavy,
and the mud fearful. I have seen mules stumble in the street, and
drown in the liquid mud! Montgomery Street had been filled up with
brush and clay, and I always dreaded to ride on horseback along it,
because the mud was so deep that a horse's legs would become
entangled in the bushes below, and the rider was likely to be
thrown and drowned in the mud. The only sidewalks were made of
stepping-stones of empty boxes, and here and there a few planks
with barrel-staves nailed on. All the town lay along Montgomery
Street, from Sacramento to Jackson, and about the plaza. Gambling
was the chief occupation of the people. While they were waiting
for the cessation of the rainy season, and for the beginning of
spring, all sorts of houses were being put up, but of the most
flimsy kind, and all were stores, restaurants, or gambling
-saloons. Any room twenty by sixty feet would rent for a thousand
dollars a month. I had, as my pay, seventy dollars a month, and no
one would even try to hire a servant under three hundred dollars.
Had it not been for the fifteen hundred dollars I had made in the
store at Coloma, I could not have lived through the winter. About
the 1st of April arrived the steamer Oregon; but her captain
(Pearson) knew what was the state of affairs on shore, and ran his
steamer alongside the line-of-battle-ship Ohio at Saucelito, and
obtained the privilege of leaving his crew on board as "prisoners"
until he was ready to return to sea. Then, discharging his
passengers and getting coal out of some of the ships which had
arrived, he retook his crew out of limbo and carried the first
regular mail back to Panama early in April. In regular order
arrived the third steamer, the Panama; and, as the vessels were
arriving with coal, The California was enabled to hire a crew and
get off. From that time forward these three ships constituted the
regular line of mail-steamers, which has been kept up ever since.
By the steamer Oregon arrived out Major R. P. Hammond, J. M.
Williams, James Blair, and others; also the gentlemen who, with
Major Ogden, were to compose a joint commission to select the sites
for the permanent forts and navyyard of California. This
commission was composed of Majors Ogden, Smith, and Leadbetter, of,
the army, and Captains Goldsborough, Van Brunt, and Blunt, of the
navy. These officers, after a most careful study of the whole
subject, selected Mare Island for the navy-yard, and "Benicia" for
the storehouses and arsenals of the army. The Pacific Mail
Steamship Company also selected Benicia as their depot. Thus was
again revived the old struggle for supremacy of these two points
as the site of the future city of the Pacific. Meantime, however,
San Francisco had secured the name. About six hundred ships were
anchored there without crews, and could not get away; and there the
city was, and had to be.
Nevertheless, General Smith, being disinterested and unprejudiced,
decided on Benicia as the point where the city ought to be, and
where the army headquarters should be. By the Oregon there arrived
at San Francisco a man who deserves mention here--Baron
Steinberger. He had been a great cattle-dealer in the United
States, and boasted that he had helped to break the United States
Bank, by being indebted to it five million dollars! At all events,
he was a splendid looking fellow, and brought with him from
Washington a letter to General Smith and another for Commodore
Jones, to the effect that he was a man of enlarged experience in
beef; that the authorities in Washington knew that there existed in
California large herds of cattle, which were only valuable for
their hides and tallow; that it was of great importance to the
Government that this beef should be cured and salted so as to be of
use to the army and navy, obviating the necessity of shipping
salt-beef around Cape Horn. I know he had such a letter from the
Secretary of War, Marcy, to General Smith, for it passed into my
custody, and I happened to be in Commodore Jones's cabin when the
baron presented the one for him from the Secretary of the Navy.
The baron was anxious to pitch in at once, and said that all he
needed to start with were salt and barrels. After some inquiries
of his purser, the commodore promised to let him have the barrels
with their salt, as fast as they were emptied by the crew. Then
the baron explained that he could get a nice lot of cattle from Don
Timoteo Murphy, at the Mission of San Rafael, on the north aide of
the bay, but he could not get a boat and crew to handle them.
Under the authority from the Secretary of the Navy, the commodore
then promised him the use of a boat and crew, until he (the baron)
could find and purchase a suitable one for himself. Then the baron
opened the first regular butcher-shop in San Francisco, on the
wharf about the foot of Broadway or Pacific Street, where we could
buy at twenty-five or fifty cents a pound the best roasts, steaks,
and cuts of beef, which had cost him nothing, for he never paid
anybody if he could help it, and he soon cleaned poor Don Timoteo
out. At first, every boat of his, in coming down from the San
Rafael, touched at the Ohio, and left the best beefsteaks and
roasts for the commodore, but soon the baron had enough money to
dispense with the borrowed boat, and set up for himself, and from
this small beginning, step by step, he rose in a few months to be
one of the richest and most influential men in San Francisco; but
in his wild speculations he was at last caught, and became
helplessly bankrupt. He followed General Fremont to St. Louis in
1861, where I saw him, but soon afterward he died a pauper in one
of the hospitals. When General Smith had his headquarters in San
Francisco, in the spring of 1849, Steinberger gave dinners worthy
any baron of old; and when, in after-years, I was a banker there,
he used to borrow of me small sums of money in repayment for my
share of these feasts; and somewhere among my old packages I hold
one of his confidential notes for two hundred dollars, but on the
whole I got off easily. I have no doubt that, if this man's
history could be written out, it would present phases as wonderful
as any of romance; but in my judgment he was a dangerous man,
without any true-sense of honor or honesty.
Little by little the rains of that season grew less and less, and
the hills once more became green and covered with flowers. It
became perfectly evident that no family could live in San Francisco
on such a salary as Uncle Sam allowed his most favored officials;
so General Smith and Major Ogden concluded to send their families
back to the United States, and afterward we men-folks could take to
camp and live on our rations. The Second Infantry had arrived, and
had been distributed, four companies to Monterey, and the rest
somewhat as Stevenson's regiment had been. A. J. Smith's company
of dragoons was sent up to Sonoma, whither General Smith had
resolved to move our headquarters. On the steamer which sailed
about May 1st (I think the California), we embarked, the ladies for
home and we for Monterey. At Monterey we went on shore, and
Colonel Mason, who meantime had been relieved by General Riley,
went on board, and the steamer departed for Panama. Of all that
party I alone am alive.
General Riley had, with his family, taken the house which Colonel
Mason had formerly used, and Major Canby and wife had secured rooms
at Alvarado's. Captain Bane was quartermaster, and had his family
in the house of a man named Garner, near the redoubt. Burton and
Company F were still at the fort; the four companies of the Second
Infantry were quartered in the barracks, the same building in which
we had had our headquarters; and the company officers were
quartered in hired buildings near by. General Smith and his aide,
Captain Gibbs, went to Larkin's house, and I was at my old rooms at
Dona Augustias. As we intended to go back to San Francisco by land
and afterward to travel a good deal, General Smith gave me the
necessary authority to fit out the party. There happened to be
several trains of horses and mules in town, so I purchased about a
dozen horses and mules at two hundred dollars a head, on account of
the Quartermaster's Department, and we had them kept under guard in
the quartermaster's corral.
I remember one night being in the quarters of Lieutenant Alfred
Sully, where nearly all the officers of the garrison were
assembled, listening to Sully's stories. Lieutenant Derby,
"Squibob," was one of the number, as also Fred Steele, "Neighbor"
Jones, and others, when, just after "tattoo," the orderly-sergeants
came to report the result of "tattoo" roll-call; one reported five
men absent, another eight, and so on, until it became certain that
twenty-eight men had deserted; and they were so bold and open in
their behavior that it amounted to defiance. They had deliberately
slung their knapsacks and started for the gold-mines. Dr. Murray
and I were the only ones present who were familiar with the
country, and I explained how easy they could all be taken by a
party going out at once to Salinas Plain, where the country was so
open and level that a rabbit could not cross without being seen;
that the deserters could not go to the mines without crossing that
plain, and could not reach it before daylight. All agreed that the
whole regiment would desert if these men were not brought back.
Several officers volunteered on the spot to go after them; and, as
the soldiers could not be trusted, it was useless to send any but
officers in pursuit. Some one went to report the affair to the
adjutant-general, Canby, and he to General Riley. I waited some
time, and, as the thing grew cold, I thought it was given up, and
went to my room and to bed.
About midnight I was called up and informed that there were seven
officers willing to go, but the difficulty was to get horses and
saddles. I went down to Larkin's house and got General Smith to
consent that we might take the horses I had bought for our trip.
It was nearly three o'clock a.m. before we were all mounted and
ready. I had a musket which I used for hunting. With this I led
off at a canter, followed by the others. About six miles out, by
the faint moon, I saw ahead of us in the sandy road some blue
coats, and, fearing lest they might resist or escape into the dense
bushes which lined the road, I halted and found with me Paymaster
Hill, Captain N. H. Davis, and Lieutenant John Hamilton. We waited
some time for the others, viz., Canby, Murray, Gibbs, and Sully, to
come up, but as they were not in sight we made a dash up the road
and captured six of the deserters, who were Germans, with heavy
knapsacks on, trudging along the deep, sandy road. They had not
expected pursuit, had not heard our horses, and were accordingly
easily taken. Finding myself the senior officer present, I ordered
Lieutenant Hamilton to search the men and then to march them back
to Monterey, suspecting, as was the fact, that the rest of our
party had taken a road that branched off a couple of miles back.
Daylight broke as we reached the Saunas River, twelve miles out,
and there the trail was broad and fresh leading directly out on the
Saunas Plain. This plain is about five miles wide, and then the
ground becomes somewhat broken. The trail continued very plain,
and I rode on at a gallop to where there was an old adobe-ranch on
the left of the road, with the head of a lagoon, or pond, close by.
I saw one or two of the soldiers getting water at the pond, and
others up near the house. I had the best horse and was
considerably ahead, but on looking back could see Hill and Davis
coming up behind at a gallop. I motioned to them to hurry forward,
and turned my horse across the head of the pond, knowing the ground
well, as it was a favorite place for shooting geese and ducks.
Approaching the house, I ordered the men who were outside to go in.
They did not know me personally, and exchanged glances, but I had
my musket cocked, and, as the two had seen Davis and Hill coming up
pretty fast, they obeyed. Dismounting, I found the house full of
deserters, and there was no escape for them. They naturally
supposed that I had a strong party with me, and when I ordered them
to "fall in" they obeyed from habit. By the time Hill and Davis
came up I had them formed in two ranks, the front rank facing
about, and I was taking away their bayonets, pistols, etc. We
disarmed them, destroying a musket and several pistols, and, on
counting them, we found that we three had taken eighteen, which,
added to the six first captured, made twenty-four. We made them
sling their knapsacks and begin their homeward march. It was near
night when we got back, so that these deserters had traveled nearly
forty miles since "tattoo" of the night before. The other party
had captured three, so that only one man had escaped. I doubt not
this prevented the desertion of the bulk of the Second Infantry
that spring, for at that time so demoralizing was the effect of the
gold-mines that everybody not in the military service justified
desertion, because a soldier, if free, could earn more money in a
day than he received per month. Not only did soldiers and sailors
desert, but captains and masters of ships actually abandoned their
vessels and cargoes to try their luck at the mines. Preachers
and professors forgot their creeds and took to trade, and
even to keeping gambling-houses. I remember that one of our
regular soldiers, named Reese, in deserting stole a favorite
double-barreled gun of mine, and when the orderly-sergeant of the
company, Carson, was going on furlough, I asked him when he came
across Reese to try and get my gun back. When he returned he told
me that he had found Reese and offered him a hundred dollars for my
gun, but Reese sent me word that he liked the gun, and would not
take a hundred dollars for it. Soldiers or sailors who could reach
the mines were universally shielded by the miners, so that it was
next to useless to attempt their recapture. In due season General
Persifer Smith, Gibbs, and I, with some hired packers, started back
for San Francisco, and soon after we transferred our headquarters to
Sonoma. About this time Major Joseph Hooker arrived from the East
--the regular adjutant-general of the division--relieved me, and I
became thereafter one of General Smith's regular aides-de-camp.
As there was very little to do, General Smith encouraged us to go
into any business that would enable us to make money. R. P.
Hammond, James Blair, and I, made a contract to survey for Colonel
J. D. Stevenson his newly-projected city of "New York of the
Pacific," situated at the month of the San Joaquin River. The
contract embraced, also, the making of soundings and the marking
out of a channel through Suisun Bay. We hired, in San Francisco, a
small metallic boat, with a sail, laid in some stores, and
proceeded to the United States ship Ohio, anchored at Saucelito,
where we borrowed a sailor-boy and lead-lines with which to sound
the channel. We sailed up to Benicia, and, at General Smith's
request, we surveyed and marked the line dividing the city of
Benicia from the government reserve. We then sounded the bay back
and forth, and staked out the best channel up Suisun Bay, from
which Blair made out sailing directions. We then made the
preliminary surveys of the city of "New York of the Pacific," all
of which were duly plotted; and for this work we each received from
Stevenson five hundred dollars and ten or fifteen lots. I sold
enough lots to make up another five hundred dollars, and let the
balance go; for the city of "New York of the Pacific" never came to
any thing. Indeed, cities at the time were being projected by
speculators all round the bay and all over the country.
While we were surveying at "New York of the Pacific," occurred one
of those little events that showed the force of the gold-fever. We
had a sailor-boy with us, about seventeen years old, who cooked our
meals and helped work the boat. Onshore, we had the sail spread so
as to shelter us against the wind and dew. One morning I awoke
about daylight, and looked out to see if our sailor-boy was at work
getting breakfast; but he was not at the fire at all. Getting up,
I discovered that he had converted a tule-bolsa into a sail boat,
and was sailing for the gold-mines. He was astride this bolsa,
with a small parcel of bread and meat done up in a piece of
cloth; another piece of cloth, such as we used for making our
signal-stations, he had fixed into a sail; and with a paddle he was
directing his precarious craft right out into the broad bay, to
follow the general direction of the schooners and boats that he
knew were ascending the Sacramento River. He was about a hundred
yards from the shore. I jerked up my gun, and hailed him to come
back. After a moment's hesitation, he let go his sheet and began
to paddle back. This bolsa was nothing but a bundle of tule, or
bullrush, bound together with grass-ropes in the shape of a cigar,
about ten feet long and about two feet through the butt. With
these the California Indiana cross streams of considerable size.
When he came ashore, I gave him a good overhauling for attempting
to desert, and put him to work getting breakfast. In due time we
returned him to his ship, the Ohio. Subsequently, I made a bargain
with Mr. Hartnell to survey his ranch at Cosnmnes River, Sacramento
Valley. Ord and a young citizen, named Seton, were associated with
me in this. I bought of Rodman M. Price a surveyor's compass,
chain, etc., and, in San Francisco, a small wagon and harness.
Availing ourselves of a schooner, chartered to carry Major Miller
and two companies of the Second Infantry from San Francisco to
Stockton, we got up to our destination at little cost. I recall an
occurrence that happened when the schooner was anchored in
Carquinez Straits, opposite the soldiers' camp on shore. We were
waiting for daylight and a fair wind; the schooner lay anchored at
an ebb-tide, and about daylight Ord and I had gone ashore for
something. Just as we were pulling off from shore, we heard the
loud shouts of the men, and saw them all running down toward the
water. Our attention thus drawn, we saw something swimming in the
water, and pulled toward it, thinking it a coyote; but we soon
recognized a large grizzly bear, swimming directly across the
channel. Not having any weapon, we hurriedly pulled for the
schooner, calling out, as we neared it, "A bear! a bear!" It so
happened that Major Miller was on deck, washing his face and hands.
He ran rapidly to the bow of the vessel, took the musket from the
hands of the sentinel, and fired at the bear, as he passed but a
short distance ahead of the schooner. The bear rose, made a growl
or howl, but continued his course. As we scrambled up the
port-aide to get our guns, the mate, with a crew, happened to have
a boat on the starboard-aide, and, armed only with a hatchet, they
pulled up alongside the bear, and the mate struck him in the head
with the hatchet. The bear turned, tried to get into the boat, but
the mate struck his claws with repeated blows, and made him let go.
After several passes with him, the mate actually killed the bear,
got a rope round him, and towed him alongside the schooner, where
he was hoisted on deck. The carcass weighed over six hundred
pounds. It was found that Major Miller's shot had struck the bear
in the lower jaw, and thus disabled him. Had it not been for this,
the bear would certainly have upset the boat and drowned all in it.
As it was, however, his meat served us a good turn in our trip up
to Stockton. At Stockton we disembarked our wagon, provisions, and
instruments. There I bought two fine mules at three hundred
dollars each, and we hitched up and started for the Coaumnes River.
About twelve miles off was the Mokelumne, a wide, bold stream, with
a canoe as a ferry-boat. We took our wagon to pieces, and ferried
it and its contents across, and then drove our mules into the
water. In crossing, one mule became entangled in the rope of the
other, and for a time we thought he was a gone mule; but at last he
revived and we hitched up. The mules were both pack-animals;
neither had ever before seen a wagon. Young Seton also was about
as green, and had never handled a mule. We put on the harness, and
began to hitch them in, when one of the mules turned his head, saw
the wagon, and started. We held on tight, but the beast did not
stop until he had shivered the tongue-pole into a dozen fragments.
The fact was, that Seton had hitched the traces before he had put
on the blind-bridle. There was considerable swearing done, but
that would not mend the pole. There was no place nearer than
Sutter's Fort to repair damages, so we were put to our wits' end.
We first sent back a mile or so, and bought a raw-hide. Gathering
up the fragments of the pole and cutting the hide into strips, we
finished it in the rudest manner. As long as the hide was green, the
pole was very shaky; but gradually the sun dried the hide,
tightened it, and the pole actually held for about a month. This
cost us nearly a day of delay; but, when damages were repaired, we
harnessed up again, and reached the crossing of the Cosumnes, where
our survey was to begin. The expediente, or title-papers, of the
ranch described it as containing nine or eleven leagues on the
Cosumnes, south side, and between the San Joaquin River and Sierra
Nevada Mountains. We began at the place where the road crosses the
Cosumnes, and laid down a line four miles south, perpendicular to
the general direction of the stream; then, surveying up the stream,
we marked each mile so as to admit of a subdivision of one mile by
four. The land was dry and very poor, with the exception of here
and there some small pieces of bottom land, the great bulk of the
bottom-land occurring on the north side of the stream. We
continued the survey up some twenty miles into the hills above the
mill of Dailor and Sheldon. It took about a month to make this
survey, which, when finished, was duly plotted; and for it we
received one-tenth of the land, or two subdivisions. Ord and I
took the land, and we paid Seton for his labor in cash. By the
sale of my share of the land, subsequently, I realized three
thousand dollars. After finishing Hartnell's survey, we crossed
over to Dailor's, and did some work for him at five hundred dollars
a day for the party. Having finished our work on the Cosumnes, we
proceeded to Sacramento, where Captain Sutter employed us to
connect the survey of Sacramento City, made by Lieutenant Warner,
and that of Sutterville, three miles below, which was then being
surveyed by Lieutenant J. W. Davidson, of the First Dragoons. At
Sutterville, the plateau of the Sacramento approached quite near
the river, and it would have made a better site for a town than the
low, submerged land where the city now stands; but it seems to be a
law of growth that all natural advantages are disregarded wherever
once business chooses a location. Old Sutter's embarcadero became
Sacramento City, simply because it was the first point used for
unloading boats for Sutter's Fort, just as the site for San
Francisco was fixed by the use of Yerba Buena as the hide-landing
for the Mission of "San Francisco de Asis."
I invested my earnings in this survey in three lots in Sacramento
City, on which I made a fair profit by a sale to one McNulty, of
Mansfield, Ohio. I only had a two months' leave of absence, during
which General Smith, his staff, and a retinue of civil friends,
were making a tour of the gold-mines, and hearing that he was en
route back to his headquarters at Sonoma, I knocked off my work,
sold my instruments, and left my wagon and mules with my cousin
Charley Hoyt, who had a store in Sacramento, and was on the point
of moving up to a ranch, for which he had bargained, on Bear Creek,
on which was afterward established Camp "Far West." He afterward
sold the mules, wagon, etc., for me, and on the whole I think I
cleared, by those two months' work, about six thousand dollars. I
then returned to headquarters at Sonoma, in time to attend my
fellow aide-de-camp Gibbs through a long and dangerous sickness,
during which he was on board a store-ship, guarded by Captain
George Johnson, who now resides in San Francisco. General Smith
had agreed that on the first good opportunity he would send me to
the United States as a bearer of dispatches, but this he could not
do until he had made the examination of Oregon, which was also in
his command. During the summer of 1849 there continued to pour
into California a perfect stream of people. Steamers came, and a
line was established from San Francisco to Sacramento, of which the
Senator was the pioneer, charging sixteen dollars a passage, and
actually coining money. Other boats were built, out of materials
which had either come around Cape Horn or were brought from the
Sandwich Islands. Wharves were built, houses were springing up
as if by magic, and the Bay of San Francisco presented as busy a
scene of life as any part of the world. Major Allen, of the
Quartermaster's Department, who had come out as chief-quartermaster
of the division, was building a large warehouse at Benicia, with a
row of quarters, out of lumber at one hundred dollars per thousand
feet, and the work was done by men at sixteen dollars a day. I
have seen a detailed soldier, who got only his monthly pay of eight
dollars a month, and twenty cents a day for extra duty, nailing on
weather-boards and shingles, alongside a citizen who was paid
sixteen dollars a day. This was a real injustice, made the
soldiers discontented, and it was hardly to be wondered at that so
many deserted.
While the mass of people were busy at gold and in mammoth
speculations, a set of busy politicians were at work to secure the
prizes of civil government. Gwin and Fremont were there, and T.
Butler King, of Georgia, had come out from the East, scheming for
office. He staid with us at Sonoma, and was generally regarded as
the Government candidate for United States Senator. General Riley
as Governor, and Captain Halleck as Secretary of State, had issued
a proclamation for the election of a convention to frame a State
constitution. In due time the elections were held, and the
convention was assembled at Monterey. Dr. Semple was elected
president; and Gwin, Sutter, Halleck, Butler King, Sherwood,
Gilbert, Shannon, and others, were members. General Smith took no
part in this convention, but sent me down to watch the proceedings,
and report to him. The only subject of interest was the slavery
question. There were no slaves then in California, save a few who
had come out as servants, but the Southern people at that time
claimed their share of territory, out of that acquired by the
common labors of all sections of the Union in the war with Mexico.
Still, in California there was little feeling on the subject. I
never heard General Smith, who was a Louisianian, express any
opinion about it. Nor did Butler King, of Georgia, ever manifest
any particular interest in the matter. A committee was named to
draft a constitution, which in due time was reported, with the
usual clause, then known as the Wilmot Proviso, excluding slavery;
and during the debate which ensued very little opposition was made
to this clause, which was finally adopted by a large majority,
although the convention was made up in large part of men from our
Southern States. This matter of California being a free State,
afterward, in the national Congress, gave rise to angry debates,
which at one time threatened civil war. The result of the
convention was the election of State officers, and of the
Legislature which sat in San Jose in October and November, 1849,
and which elected Fremont and Gwin as the first United States
Senators in Congress from the Pacific coast.
Shortly after returning from Monterey, I was sent by General Smith
up to Sacramento City to instruct Lieutenants Warner and
Williamson, of the Engineers, to push their surveys of the Sierra
Nevada Mountains, for the purpose of ascertaining the possibility
of passing that range by a railroad, a subject that then elicited
universal interest. It was generally assumed that such a road
could not be made along any of the immigrant roads then in use, and
Warner's orders were to look farther north up the Feather River, or
some one of its tributaries. Warner was engaged in this survey
during the summer and fall of 1849, and had explored, to the very
end of Goose Lake, the source of Feather River. Then, leaving
Williamson with the baggage and part of the men, he took about ten
men and a first-rate guide, crossed the summit to the east, and had
turned south, having the range of mountains on his right hand, with
the intention of regaining his camp by another pass in the
mountain. The party was strung out, single file, with wide spaces
between, Warner ahead. He had just crossed a small valley and
ascended one of the spurs covered with sage-brush and rocks, when a
band of Indians rose up and poured in a shower of arrows. The mule
turned and ran back to the valley, where Warner fell off dead,
punctured by five arrows. The mule also died. The guide, who was
near to Warner, was mortally wounded; and one or two men had arrows
in their bodies, but recovered. The party gathered about Warner's
body, in sight of the Indians, who whooped and yelled, but did not
venture away from their cover of rocks. This party of men remained
there all day without burying the bodies, and at night, by a wide
circuit, passed the mountain, and reached Williamson's camp. The
news of Warner's death cast a gloom over all the old Californians,
who knew him well. He was a careful, prudent, and honest officer,
well qualified for his business, and extremely accurate in all his
work. He and I had been intimately associated during our four
years together in California, and I felt his loss deeply. The
season was then too far advanced to attempt to avenge his death,
and it was not until the next spring that a party was sent out to
gather up and bury his scattered bones.
As winter approached, the immigrants overland came pouring into
California, dusty and worn with their two thousand miles of weary
travel across the plains and mountains. Those who arrived in
October and November reported thousands still behind them, with
oxen perishing, and short of food. Appeals were made for help, and
General Smith resolved to attempt relief. Major Rucker, who had
come across with Pike. Graham's Battalion of Dragoons, had
exchanged with Major Fitzgerald, of the Quartermaster's Department,
and was detailed to conduct this relief. General Smith ordered him
to be supplied with one hundred thousand dollars out of the civil
fund, subject to his control, and with this to purchase at
Sacramento flour, bacon, etc., and to hire men and mules to send
out and meet the immigrants. Major Rucker fulfilled this duty
perfectly, sending out pack-trains loaded with food by the many
routes by which the immigrants were known to be approaching, went
out himself with one of these trains, and remained in the mountains
until the last immigrant had got in. No doubt this expedition
saved many a life which has since been most useful to the country.
I remained at Sacramento a good part of the fall of 1849,
recognizing among the immigrants many of my old personal
friends--John C. Fall, William King, Sam Stambaugh, Hugh Ewing,
Hampton Denman, etc. I got Rucker to give these last two employment
along with the train for the relief of the immigrants. They had
proposed to begin a ranch on my land on the Cosumnes, but afterward
changed their minds, and went out with Rucker.
While I was at Sacramento General Smith had gone on his
contemplated trip to Oregon, and promised that he would be back in
December, when he would send me home with dispatches. Accordingly,
as the winter and rainy season was at hand, I went to San
Francisco, and spent some time at the Presidio, waiting patiently
for General Smith's return. About Christmas a vessel arrived from
Oregon with the dispatches, and an order for me to deliver them in
person to General Winfield Scott, in New York City. General Smith
had sent them down, remaining in Oregon for a time. Of course I
was all ready, and others of our set were going home by the same
conveyance, viz., Rucker, Ord, A. J. Smith--some under orders, and
the others on leave. Wanting to see my old friends in Monterey, I
arranged for my passage in the steamer of January 1, 1850, paying
six hundred dollars for passage to New York, and went down to
Monterey by land, Rucker accompanying me. The weather was
unusually rainy, and all the plain about Santa Clara was under
water; but we reached Monterey in time. I again was welcomed by my
friends, Dona Augustias, Manuelita, and the family, and it was
resolved that I should take two of the boys home with me and put
them at Georgetown College for education, viz., Antonio and
Porfirio, thirteen and eleven years old. The dona gave me a bag of
gold-dust to pay for their passage and to deposit at the college.
On the 2d day of January punctually appeared the steamer Oregon.
We were all soon on board and off for home. At that time the
steamers touched at San Diego, Acapulco, and Panama. Our
passage down the coast was unusually pleasant. Arrived at
Panama, we hired mules and rode across to Gorgona, on the
Cruces River, where we hired a boat and paddled down to the
mouth of the river, off which lay the steamer Crescent City. It
usually took four days to cross the isthmus, every passenger taking
care of himself, and it was really funny to watch the efforts of
women and men unaccustomed to mules. It was an old song to us, and
the trip across was easy and interesting. In due time we were rowed
off to the Crescent City, rolling back and forth in the swell, and
we scrambled aboard by a "Jacob's ladder" from the stern. Some of
the women had to be hoisted aboard by lowering a tub from the end
of a boom; fun to us who looked on, but awkward enough to the poor
women, especially to a very fat one, who attracted much notice.
General Fremont, wife and child (Lillie) were passengers with us
down from San Francisco; but Mrs. Fremont not being well, they
remained over one trip at Panama.
Senator Gwin was one of our passengers, and went through to New
York. We reached New York about the close of January, after a safe
and pleasant trip. Our party, composed of Ord, A. J. Smith, and
Rucker, with the two boys, Antonio and Porfirio, put up at
Delmonico's, on Bowling Green; and, as soon as we had cleaned up
somewhat, I took a carriage, went to General Scott's office in
Ninth Street, delivered my dispatches, was ordered to dine with him
next day, and then went forth to hunt up my old friends and
relations, the Scotts, Hoyts, etc., etc.
On reaching New York, most of us had rough soldier's clothing, but
we soon got a new outfit, and I dined with General Scott's family,
Mrs. Scott being present, and also their son-in-law and daughter
(Colonel and Mrs. H. L. Scott). The general questioned me pretty
closely in regard to things on the Pacific coast, especially the
politics, and startled me with the assertion that "our country was
on the eve of a terrible civil war." He interested me by anecdotes
of my old army comrades in his recent battles around the city of
Mexico, and I felt deeply the fact that our country had passed
through a foreign war, that my comrades had fought great battles,
and yet I had not heard a hostile shot. Of course, I thought it
the last and only chance in my day, and that my career as a soldier
was at an end. After some four or five days spent in New York, I
was, by an order of General Scott, sent to Washington, to lay
before the Secretary of War (Crawford, of Georgia) the dispatches
which I had brought from California. On reaching Washington, I
found that Mr. Ewing was Secretary of the Interior, and I at once
became a member of his family. The family occupied the house of
Mr. Blair, on Pennsylvania Avenue, directly in front of the War
Department. I immediately repaired to the War Department, and
placed my dispatches in the hands of Mr. Crawford, who questioned
me somewhat about California, but seemed little interested in the
subject, except so far as it related to slavery and the routes
through Texas. I then went to call on the President at the White
House. I found Major Bliss, who had been my teacher in mathematics
at West Point, and was then General Taylor's son-in-law and private
secretary. He took me into the room, now used by the President's
private secretaries, where President Taylor was. I had never seen
him before, though I had served under him in Florida in 1840-'41,
and was most agreeably surprised at his fine personal appearance,
and his pleasant, easy manners. He received me with great
kindness, told me that Colonel Mason had mentioned my name with
praise, and that he would be pleased to do me any act of favor. We
were with him nearly an hour, talking about California generally,
and of his personal friends, Persifer Smith, Riley, Canby, and
others: Although General Scott was generally regarded by the army
as the most accomplished soldier of the Mexican War, yet General
Taylor had that blunt, honest, and stern character, that endeared
him to the masses of the people, and made him President. Bliss,
too, had gained a large fame by his marked skill and intelligence
as an adjutant-general and military adviser. His manner was very
unmilitary, and in his talk he stammered and hesitated, so as to
make an unfavorable impression on a stranger; but he was
wonderfully accurate and skillful with his pen, and his orders and
letters form a model of military precision and clearness.
CHAPTER IV.
MISSOURI, LOUISIANA, AND CALIFORNIA
1850-1855.
Having returned from California in January, 1850, with dispatches
for the War Department, and having delivered them in person first
to General Scott in New York City, and afterward to the Secretary
of War (Crawford) in Washington City, I applied for and received a
leave of absence for six months. I first visited my mother, then
living at Mansfield, Ohio, and returned to Washington, where, on
the 1st day of May, 1850, I was married to Miss Ellen Boyle Ewing,
daughter of the Hon. Thomas Ewing, Secretary of the Interior. The
marriage ceremony was attended by a large and distinguished
company, embracing Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, T. H. Benton,
President Taylor, and all his cabinet. This occurred at the house
of Mr. Ewing, the same now owned and occupied by Mr. F. P. Blair,
senior, on Pennsylvania Avenue, opposite the War Department. We
made a wedding tour to Baltimore, New York, Niagara, and Ohio, and
returned to Washington by the 1st of July. General Taylor
participated in the celebration of the Fourth of July, a very hot
day, by hearing a long speech from the Hon. Henry S. Foote, at the
base of the Washington Monument. Returning from the celebration
much heated and fatigued, he partook too freely of his favorite
iced milk with cherries, and during that night was seized with a
severe colic, which by morning had quite prostrated him. It was
said that he sent for his son-in-law, Surgeon Wood, United States
Army, stationed in Baltimore, and declined medical assistance from
anybody else. Mr. Ewing visited him several times, and was
manifestly uneasy and anxious, as was also his son-in-law, Major
Bliss, then of the army, and his confidential secretary. He
rapidly grew worse, and died in about four days.
At that time there was a high state of political feeling pervading
the country, on account of the questions growing out of the new
Territories just acquired from Mexico by the war. Congress was in
session, and General Taylor's sudden death evidently created great
alarm. I was present in the Senate-gallery, and saw the oath of
office administered to the Vice-President, Mr. Fillmore, a man of
splendid physical proportions and commanding appearance; but on the
faces of Senators and people could easily be read the feelings of
doubt and uncertainty that prevailed. All knew that a change in
the cabinet and general policy was likely to result, but at the
time it was supposed that Mr. Fillmore, whose home was in Buffalo,
would be less liberal than General Taylor to the politicians of the
South, who feared, or pretended to fear, a crusade against slavery;
or, as was the political cry of the day, that slavery would be
prohibited in the Territories and in the places exclusively under
the jurisdiction of the United States. Events, however, proved the
contrary.
I attended General Taylor's funeral as a sort of aide-decamp, at
the request of the Adjutant-General of the army, Roger Jones, whose
brother, a militia-general, commanded the escort, composed of
militia and some regulars. Among the regulars I recall the names
of Captains John Sedgwick and W. F. Barry.
Hardly was General Taylor decently buried in the Congressional
Cemetery when the political struggle recommenced, and it became
manifest that Mr. Fillmore favored the general compromise then
known as Henry Clay's "Omnibus Bill," and that a general change of
cabinet would at once occur: Webster was to succeed Mr. Clayton as
Secretary of State, Corwin to succeed Mr. Meredith as Secretary of
the Treasury, and A. H. H. Stuart to succeed Mr. Ewing as Secretary
of the Interior. Mr. Ewing, however, was immediately appointed by
the Governor of the State to succeed Corwin in the Senate.
These changes made it necessary for Mr. Ewing to discontinue
house-keeping, and Mr. Corwin took his home and furniture off his
hands. I escorted the family out to their home in Lancaster, Ohio;
but, before this had occurred, some most interesting debates took
place in the Senate, which I regularly attended, and heard Clay,
Benton, Foots, King of Alabama, Dayton, and the many real orators of
that day. Mr. Calhoun was in his seat, but he was evidently
approaching his end, for he was pale and feeble in the extreme. I
heard Mr. Webster's last speech on the floor of the Senate, under
circumstances that warrant a description. It was publicly known
that he was to leave the Senate, and enter the new cabinet of Mr.
Fillmore, as his Secretary of State, and that prior to leaving he
was to make a great speech on the "Omnibus Bill." Resolved to hear
it, I went up to the Capitol on the day named, an hour or so
earlier than usual. The speech was to be delivered in the old
Senate-chamber, now used by the Supreme Court. The galleries were
much smaller than at present, and I found them full to overflowing,
with a dense crowd about the door, struggling to reach the stairs. I
could not get near, and then tried the reporters' gallery, but found
it equally crowded; so I feared I should lose the only possible
opportunity to hear Mr. Webster.
I had only a limited personal acquaintance with any of the
Senators, but had met Mr. Corwin quite often at Mr. Ewing's house,
and I also knew that he had been extremely friendly to my father in
his lifetime; so I ventured to send in to him my card, "W. T. S.,
First-Lieutenant, Third Artillery." He came to the door promptly,
when I said, "Mr. Corwin, I believe Mr. Webster is to speak
to-day." His answer was, "Yes, he has the floor at one o'clock."
I then added that I was extremely anxious to hear him. "Well,"
said he, "why don't you go into the gallery?" I explained that it
was full, and I had tried every access, but found all jammed with
people. "Well," said he, "what do you want of me?" I explained
that I would like him to take me on the floor of the Senate; that I
had often seen from the gallery persons on the floor, no better
entitled to it than I. He then asked in his quizzical way, "Are
you a foreign embassador?" "No." "Are you the Governor of a
State?" "No." "Are you a member of the other House?" "Certainly
not" "Have you ever had a vote of thanks by name?" "No!" "Well,
these are the only privileged members." I then told him he knew
well enough who I was, and that if he chose he could take me in.
He then said, "Have you any impudence?" I told him, "A reasonable
amount if occasion called for it." "Do you think you could become
so interested in my conversation as not to notice the door-keeper?"
(pointing to him). I told him that there was not the least doubt
of it, if he would tell me one of his funny stories. He then took
my arm, and led me a turn in the vestibule, talking about some
indifferent matter, but all the time directing my looks to his left
hand, toward which he was gesticulating with his right; and thus we
approached the door-keeper, who began asking me, "Foreign
ambassador? Governor of a State? Member of Congress?" etc.; but I
caught Corwin's eye, which said plainly, "Don't mind him, pay
attention to me," and in this way we entered the Senate-chamber by
a side-door. Once in, Corwin said, "Now you can take care of
yourself," and I thanked him cordially.
I found a seat close behind Mr. Webster, and near General Scott,
and heard the whole of the speech. It was heavy in the extreme,
and I confess that I was disappointed and tired long before it was
finished. No doubt the speech was full of fact and argument, but
it had none of the fire of oratory, or intensity of feeling, that
marked all of Mr. Clay's efforts.
Toward the end of July, as before stated, all the family went home
to Lancaster. Congress was still in session, and the bill adding
four captains to the Commissary Department had not passed, but was
reasonably certain to, and I was equally sure of being one of them.
At that time my name was on the muster-roll of (Light) Company C,
Third Artillery (Bragg's), stationed at Jefferson Barracks, near
St. Louis. But, as there was cholera at St. Louis, on application,
I was permitted to delay joining my company until September. Early
in that month, I proceeded to Cincinnati, and thence by steamboat
to St. Louis, and then to Jefferson Barracks, where I reported
for duty to Captain and Brevet-Colonel Braxton Bragg, commanding
(Light) Company C, Third Artillery. The other officers of the
company were First-Lieutenant James A. Hardie, and afterward
Haekaliah Brown. New horses had just been purchased for the
battery, and we were preparing for work, when the mail brought the
orders announcing the passage of the bill increasing the Commissary
Department by four captains, to which were promoted Captains
Shiras, Blair, Sherman, and Bowen. I was ordered to take post at
St. Louis, and to relieve Captain A. J. Smith, First Dragoons, who
had been acting in that capacity for some months. My commission
bore date September 27,1850. I proceeded forthwith to the city,
relieved Captain Smith, and entered on the discharge of the duties
of the office.
Colonel N. S. Clarke, Sixth Infantry, commanded the department;
Major D. C. Buell was adjutant-general, and Captain W. S. Hancock
was regimental quartermaster; Colonel Thomas Swords was the depot
quartermaster, and we had our offices in the same building, on the
corner of Washington Avenue and Second. Subsequently Major S. Van
Vliet relieved Colonel Swords. I remained at the Planters' House
until my family arrived, when we occupied a house on Chouteau
Avenue, near Twelfth.
During the spring and summer of 1851, Mr. Ewing and Mr. Henry
Stoddard, of Dayton, Ohio, a cousin of my father, were much in St.
Louis, on business connected with the estate of Major Amos
Stoddard, who was of the old army, as early as the beginning of
this century. He was stationed at the village of St. Louis at the
time of the Louisiana purchase, and when Lewis and Clarke made
their famous expedition across the continent to the Columbia River.
Major Stoddard at that early day had purchased a small farm back of
the village, of some Spaniard or Frenchman, but, as he was a
bachelor, and was killed at Fort Meigs, Ohio, during the War of
1812, the title was for many years lost sight of, and the farm was
covered over by other claims and by occupants. As St. Louis began
to grow, his brothers and sisters, and their descendants, concluded
to look up the property. After much and fruitless litigation, they
at last retained Mr. Stoddard, of Dayton, who in turn employed Mr.
Ewing, and these, after many years of labor, established the title,
and in the summer of 1851 they were put in possession by the United
States marshal. The ground was laid off, the city survey extended
over it, and the whole was sold in partition. I made some
purchases, and acquired an interest, which I have retained more or
less ever since.
We continued to reside in St. Louis throughout the year 1851, and
in the spring of 1852 I had occasion to visit Fort Leavenworth on
duty, partly to inspect a lot of cattle which a Mr. Gordon, of Cass
County, had contracted to deliver in New Mexico, to enable Colonel
Sumner to attempt his scheme of making the soldiers in New Mexico
self-supporting, by raising their own meat, and in a measure their
own vegetables. I found Fort Leavenworth then, as now, a most
beautiful spot, but in the midst of a wild Indian country. There
were no whites settled in what is now the State of Kansas. Weston,
in Missouri, was the great town, and speculation in town-lots there
and thereabout burnt the fingers of some of the army-officers, who
wanted to plant their scanty dollars in a fruitful soil. I rode on
horseback over to Gordon's farm, saw the cattle, concluded the
bargain, and returned by way of Independence, Missouri. At
Independence I found F. X. Aubrey, a noted man of that day, who had
just made a celebrated ride of six hundred miles in six days. That
spring the United States quartermaster, Major L. C. Easton, at Fort
Union, New Mexico, had occasion to send some message east by a
certain date, and contracted with Aubrey to carry it to the nearest
post-office (then Independence, Missouri), making his compensation
conditional on the time consumed. He was supplied with a good
horse, and an order on the outgoing trains for an exchange. Though
the whole route was infested with hostile Indians, and not a house
on it, Aubrey started alone with his rifle. He was fortunate in
meeting several outward-bound trains, and there, by made frequent
changes of horses, some four or five, and reached Independence in
six days, having hardly rested or slept the whole way. Of course,
he was extremely fatigued, and said there was an opinion among the
wild Indians that if a man "sleeps out his sleep," after such
extreme exhaustion, he will never awake; and, accordingly, he
instructed his landlord to wake him up after eight hours of sleep.
When aroused at last, he saw by the clock that he had been asleep
twenty hours, and he was dreadfully angry, threatened to murder his
landlord, who protested he had tried in every way to get him up,
but found it impossible, and had let him "sleep it out" Aubrey, in
describing his sensations to me, said he took it for granted he was
a dead man; but in fact he sustained no ill effects, and was off
again in a few days. I met him afterward often in California, and
always esteemed him one of the best samples of that bold race of
men who had grown up on the Plains, along with the Indians, in the
service of the fur companies. He was afterward, in 1856, killed by
R. C. Weightman, in a bar-room row, at Santa Fe, New Mexico, where
he had just arrived from California.
In going from Independence to Fort Leavenworth, I had to swim Milk
Creek, and sleep all night in a Shawnee camp. The next day I
crossed the Kaw or Kansas River in a ferry boat, maintained by the
blacksmith of the tribe, and reached the fort in the evening. At
that day the whole region was unsettled, where now exist many rich
counties, highly cultivated, embracing several cities of from ten
to forty thousand inhabitants. From Fort Leavenworth I returned by
steamboat to St. Louis.
In the summer of 1852, my family went to Lancaster, Ohio; but I
remained at my post. Late in the season, it was rumored that I was
to be transferred to New Orleans, and in due time I learned the
cause. During a part of the Mexican War, Major Seawell, of the
Seventh Infantry, had been acting commissary of subsistence at New
Orleans, then the great depot of supplies for the troops in Texas,
and of those operating beyond the Rio Grande. Commissaries at that
time were allowed to purchase in open market, and were not
restricted to advertising and awarding contracts to the lowest
bidders. It was reported that Major Seawell had purchased largely
of the house of Perry Seawell & Co., Mr. Seawell being a relative
of his. When he was relieved in his duties by Major Waggman, of
the regular Commissary Department, the latter found Perry Seawell &
Co. so prompt and satisfactory that he continued the patronage;
for which there was a good reason, because stores for the use of
the troops at remote posts had to be packed in a particular way, to
bear transportation in wagons, or even on pack-mules; and this firm
had made extraordinary preparations for this exclusive purpose.
Some time about 1849, a brother of Major Waggaman, who had been
clerk to Captain Casey, commissary of subsistence, at Tampa Bay,
Florida, was thrown out of office by the death of the captain, and
he naturally applied to his brother in New Orleans for employment;
and he, in turn, referred him to his friends, Messrs. Perry
Seawell & Co. These first employed him as a clerk, and afterward
admitted him as a partner. Thus it resulted, in fact, that Major
Waggaman was dealing largely, if not exclusively, with a firm of
which his brother was a partner.
One day, as General Twiggs was coming across Lake Pontchartrain, he
fell in with one of his old cronies, who was an extensive grocer.
This gentleman gradually led the conversation to the downward
tendency of the times since he and Twiggs were young, saying that,
in former years, all the merchants of New Orleans had a chance at
government patronage; but now, in order to sell to the army
commissary, one had to take a brother in as a partner. General
Twiggs resented this, but the merchant again affirmed it, and gave
names. As soon as General Twiggs reached his office, he instructed
his adjutant-general, Colonel Bliss--who told me this--to address a
categorical note of inquiry to Major Waggaman. The major very
frankly stated the facts as they had arisen, and insisted that the
firm of Perry Seawell & Co. had enjoyed a large patronage, but
deserved it richly by reason of their promptness, fairness, and
fidelity. The correspondence was sent to Washington, and the
result was, that Major Waggaman was ordered to St. Louis, and I was
ordered to New Orleans.
I went down to New Orleans in a steamboat in the month of
September, 1852, taking with me a clerk, and, on arrival, assumed
the office, in a bank-building facing Lafayette Square, in which
were the offices of all the army departments. General D. Twiggs
was in command of the department, with Colonel W. W. S. Bliss
(son-in-law of General Taylor) as his adjutant-general. Colonel A.
C. Myers was quartermaster, Captain John F. Reynolds aide-de-camp,
and Colonel A. J. Coffee paymaster. I took rooms at the St. Louis
Hotel, kept by a most excellent gentleman, Colonel Mudge.
Mr. Perry Seawell came to me in person, soliciting a continuance of
the custom which he had theretofore enjoyed; but I told him frankly
that a change was necessary, and I never saw or heard of him
afterward. I simply purchased in open market, arranged for the
proper packing of the stores, and had not the least difficulty in
supplying the troops and satisfying the head of the department in
Washington.
About Christmas, I had notice that my family, consisting of Mrs.
Sherman, two children, and nurse, with my sister Fanny (now Mrs.
Moulton, of Cincinnati, Ohio), were en route for New Orleans by
steam-packet; so I hired a house on Magazine Street, and furnished
it. Almost at the moment of their arrival, also came from St.
Louis my personal friend Major Turner, with a parcel of documents,
which, on examination, proved to be articles of copartnership for a
bank in California under the title of "Lucas, Turner & Co.," in
which my name was embraced as a partner. Major Turner was, at the
time, actually en route for New York, to embark for San Francisco,
to inaugurate the bank, in the nature of a branch of the firm
already existing at St. Louis under the name of "Lucas & Symonds."
We discussed the matter very fully, and he left with me the papers
for reflection, and went on to New York and California.
Shortly after arrived James H. Lucas, Esq., the principal of the
banking-firm in St. Louis, a most honorable and wealthy gentleman.
He further explained the full programme of the branch in
California; that my name had been included at the insistence of
Major Turner, who was a man of family and property in St. Louis,
unwilling to remain long in San Francisco, and who wanted me to
succeed him there. He offered me a very tempting income, with an
interest that would accumulate and grow. He also disclosed to me
that, in establishing a branch in California, he was influenced by
the apparent prosperity of Page, Bacon & Co., and further that he
had received the principal data, on which he had founded the
scheme, from B. R. Nisbet, who was then a teller in the firm of
Page, Bacon & Co., of San Francisco; that he also was to be taken
in as a partner, and was fully competent to manage all the details
of the business; but, as Nisbet was comparatively young, Mr. Lucas
wanted me to reside in San Francisco permanently, as the head of
the firm. All these matters were fully discussed, and I agreed to
apply for a six months' leave of absence, go to San Francisco, see
for myself, and be governed by appearances there. I accordingly,
with General Twiggs's approval, applied to the adjutant-general for
a six months' leave, which was granted; and Captain John F.
Reynolds was named to perform my duties during my absence.
During the stay of my family in New Orleans, we enjoyed the society
of the families of General Twiggs, Colonel Myers, and Colonel
Bliss, as also of many citizens, among whom was the wife of Mr.
Day, sister to my brother-in-law, Judge Bartley. General Twiggs
was then one of the oldest officers of the army. His history
extended back to the War of 1812, and he had served in early days
with General Jackson in Florida and in the Creek campaigns. He had
fine powers of description, and often entertained us, at his
office, with accounts of his experiences in the earlier settlements
of the Southwest. Colonel Bliss had been General Taylor's adjutant
in the Mexican War, and was universally regarded as one of the most
finished and accomplished scholars in the army, and his wife was a
most agreeable and accomplished lady.
Late in February, I dispatched my family up to Ohio in the
steamboat Tecumseh (Captain Pearce); disposed of my house and
furniture; turned over to Major Reynolds the funds, property, and
records of the office; and took passage in a small steamer for
Nicaragua,, en route for California. We embarked early in March,
and in seven days reached Greytown, where we united with the
passengers from New York, and proceeded, by the Nicaragua River and
Lake, for the Pacific Ocean. The river was low, and the little
steam canal-boats, four in number, grounded often, so that the
passengers had to get into the water, to help them over the bare.
In all there were about six hundred passengers, of whom about sixty
were women and children. In four days we reached Castillo, where
there is a decided fall, passed by a short railway, and above this
fall we were transferred to a larger boat, which carried us up the
rest of the river, and across the beautiful lake Nicaragua, studded
with volcanic islands. Landing at Virgin Bay, we rode on mules
across to San Juan del Sur, where lay at anchor the propeller S. S.
Lewis (Captain Partridge, I think). Passengers were carried
through the surf by natives to small boats, and rowed off to the
Lewis. The weather was very hot, and quite a scramble followed for
state-rooms, especially for those on deck. I succeeded in reaching
the purser's office, got my ticket for a berth in one of the best
state-rooms on deck, and, just as I was turning from the window, a
lady who was a fellow-passenger from New Orleans, a Mrs. D-, called
to me to secure her and her lady friend berths on deck, saying that
those below were unendurable. I spoke to the purser, who, at the
moment perplexed by the crowd and clamor, answered: "I must put
their names down for the other two berths of your state-room; but,
as soon as the confusion is over, I will make some change whereby
you shall not suffer." As soon as these two women were assigned to
a state-room, they took possession, and I was left out. Their
names were recorded as "Captain Sherman and ladies." As soon as
things were quieted down I remonstrated with the purser, who at
last gave me a lower berth in another and larger state-room on
deck, with five others, so that my two ladies had the state-room
all to themselves. At every meal the steward would come to me, and
say, "Captain Sherman, will you bring your ladies to the table?"
and we had the best seats in the ship.
This continued throughout the voyage, and I assert that "my ladies"
were of the most modest and best-behaved in the ship; but some time
after we had reached San Francisco one of our fellow-passengers
came to me and inquired if I personally knew Mrs. D---, with flaxen
tresses, who sang so sweetly for us, and who had come out under my
especial escort. I replied I did not, more than the chance
acquaintance of the voyage, and what she herself had told me, viz.,
that she expected to meet her husband, who lived about Mokelumne
Hill. He then informed me that she was a woman of the town.
Society in California was then decidedly mixed. In due season the
steamship Lewis got under weigh. She was a wooden ship, long and
narrow, bark-rigged, and a propeller; very slow, moving not over
eight miles an hour. We stopped at Acapulco, and, in eighteen
days, passed in sight of Point Pinoa at Monterey, and at the speed
we were traveling expected to reach San Francisco at 4 A. M. the
next day. The cabin passengers, as was usual, bought of the
steward some champagne and cigars, and we had a sort of ovation for
the captain, purser, and surgeon of the ship, who were all very
clever fellows, though they had a slow and poor ship. Late at
night all the passengers went to bed, expecting to enter the port
at daylight. I did not undress, as I thought the captain could and
would run in at night, and I lay down with my clothes on. About 4
A. M. I was awakened by a bump and sort of grating of the vessel,
which I thought was our arrival at the wharf in San Francisco; but
instantly the ship struck heavily; the engines stopped, and the
running to and fro on deck showed that something was wrong. In a
moment I was out of my state-room, at the bulwark, holding fast to
a stanchion, and looking over the side at the white and seething
water caused by her sudden and violent stoppage. The sea was
comparatively smooth, the night pitch-dark, and the fog deep and
impenetrable; the ship would rise with the swell, and come down
with a bump and quiver that was decidedly unpleasant. Soon the
passengers were out of their rooms, undressed, calling for help,
and praying as though the ship were going to sink immediately. Of
course she could not sink, being already on the bottom, and the
only question was as to the strength of hull to stand the bumping
and straining. Great confusion for a time prevailed, but soon I
realized that the captain had taken all proper precautions to
secure his boats, of which there were six at the davits. These are
the first things that steerage-passengers make for in case of
shipwreck, and right over my head I heard the captain's voice say
in a low tone, but quite decided: "Let go that falls, or, damn you,
I'll blow your head off!" This seemingly harsh language gave me
great comfort at the time, and on saying so to the captain
afterward, he explained that it was addressed to a passenger who
attempted to lower one of the boats. Guards, composed of the crew,
were soon posted to prevent any interference with the boats, and
the officers circulated among the passengers the report that there
was no immediate danger; that, fortunately, the sea was smooth;
that we were simply aground, and must quietly await daylight.
They advised the passengers to keep quiet, and the ladies and
children to dress and sit at the doors of their state-rooms, there
to await the advice and action of the officers of the ship, who
were perfectly cool and self-possessed. Meantime the ship was
working over a reef-for a time I feared she would break in two;
but, as the water gradually rose inside to a level with the sea
outside, the ship swung broadside to the swell, and all her keel
seemed to rest on the rock or sand. At no time did the sea break
over the deck--but the water below drove all the people up to the
main-deck and to the promenade-deck, and thus we remained for about
three hours, when daylight came; but there was a fog so thick that
nothing but water could be seen. The captain caused a boat to be
carefully lowered, put in her a trustworthy officer with a
boat-compass, and we saw her depart into the fog. During her
absence the ship's bell was kept tolling. Then the fires were all
out, the ship full of water, and gradually breaking up, wriggling
with every swell like a willow basket--the sea all round us full of
the floating fragments of her sheeting, twisted and torn into a
spongy condition. In less than an hour the boat returned, saying
that the beach was quite near, not more than a mile away, and had a
good place for landing. All the boats were then carefully lowered,
and manned by crews belonging to the ship; a piece of the gangway,
on the leeward side, was cut away, and all the women, and a few of
the worst-scared men, were lowered into the boats, which pulled for
shore. In a comparatively short time the boats returned, took new
loads, and the debarkation was afterward carried on quietly and
systematically. No baggage was allowed to go on shore except bags
or parcels carried in the hands of passengers. At times the fog
lifted so that we could see from the wreck the tops of the hills,
and the outline of the shore; and I remember sitting on, the upper
or hurricane deck with the captain, who had his maps and compass
before him, and was trying to make out where the ship was. I
thought I recognized the outline of the hills below the mission of
Dolores, and so stated to him; but he called my attention to the
fact that the general line of hills bore northwest, whereas the
coast south of San Francisco bears due north and south. He
therefore concluded that the ship had overrun her reckoning, and
was then to the north of San Francisco. He also explained that,
the passage up being longer than usual, viz., eighteen days, the
coal was short; that at the time the firemen were using some cut-up
spars along with the slack of coal, and that this fuel had made
more than usual steam, so that the ship must have glided along
faster than reckoned. This proved to be the actual case, for, in
fact, the steamship Lewis was wrecked April 9, 1853, on "Duckworth
Reef," Baulinas Bay, about eighteen miles above the entrance to San
Francisco.
The captain had sent ashore the purser in the first boat, with
orders to work his way to the city as soon as possible, to report
the loss of his vessel, and to bring back help. I remained on the
wreck till among the last of the passengers, managing to get a can
of crackers and some sardines out of the submerged pantry, a thing
the rest of the passengers did not have, and then I went quietly
ashore in one of the boats. The passengers were all on the beach,
under a steep bluff; had built fires to dry their clothes, but had
seen no human being, and had no idea where they were. Taking along
with me a fellow-passenger, a young chap about eighteen years old,
I scrambled up the bluff, and walked back toward the hills, in
hopes to get a good view of some known object. It was then the
month of April, and the hills were covered with the beautiful
grasses and flowers of that season of the year. We soon found
horse paths and tracks, and following them we came upon a drove of
horses grazing at large, some of which had saddle-marks. At about
two miles from the beach we found a corral; and thence, following
one of the strongest-marked paths, in about a mile more we
descended into a valley, and, on turning a sharp point, reached a
board shanty, with a horse picketed near by. Four men were inside
eating a meal. I inquired if any of the Lewis's people had been
there; they did not seem to understand what I meant when I
explained to them that about three miles from them, and beyond the
old corral, the steamer Lewis was wrecked, and her passengers were
on the beach. I inquired where we were, and they answered, "At
Baulinas Creek;" that they were employed at a saw-mill just above,
and were engaged in shipping lumber to San Francisco; that a
schooner loaded with lumber was then about two miles down the
creek, waiting for the tide to get out, and doubtless if we would
walk down they would take us on board.
I wrote a few words back to the captain, telling him where he was,
and that I would hurry to the city to send him help. My companion
and I their went on down the creek, and soon descried the schooner
anchored out in the stream. On being hailed, a small boat came in
and took us on board. The "captain" willingly agreed for a small
sum to carry us down to San Francisco; and, as his whole crew
consisted of a small boy about twelve years old, we helped him to
get up his anchor and pole the schooner down the creek and out over
the bar on a high tide. This must have been about 2 P.M. Once over
the bar, the sails were hoisted, and we glided along rapidly with a
strong, fair, northwest wind. The fog had lifted, so we could see
the shores plainly, and the entrance to the bay. In a couple of
hours we were entering the bay, and running "wing-and-wing."
Outside the wind was simply the usual strong breeze; but, as it
passes through the head of the Golden Gate, it increases, and
there, too, we met a strong ebb-tide.
The schooner was loaded with lumber, much of which was on deck,
lashed down to ring bolts with raw-hide thongs. The captain was
steering, and I was reclining on the lumber, looking at the
familiar shore, as we approached Fort Point, when I heard a sort of
cry, and felt the schooner going over. As we got into the throat
of the "Heads," the force of the wind, meeting a strong ebb-tide,
drove the nose of the schooner under water; she dove like a duck,
went over on her side, and began, to drift out with the tide. I
found myself in the water, mixed up with pieces of plank and ropes;
struck out, swam round to the stern, got on the keel, and clambered
up on the side. Satisfied that she could not sink, by reason of
her cargo, I was not in the least alarmed, but thought two
shipwrecks in one day not a good beginning for a new, peaceful
career. Nobody was drowned, however; the captain and crew were
busy in securing such articles as were liable to float off, and I
looked out for some passing boat or vessel to pick us up. We were
drifting steadily out to sea, while I was signaling to a boat about
three miles off, toward Saucelito, and saw her tack and stand
toward us. I was busy watching this sail-boat, when I heard a
Yankee's voice, close behind, saying, "This is a nice mess you've
got yourselves into," and looking about I saw a man in a small
boat, who had seen us upset, and had rowed out to us from a
schooner anchored close under the fort. Some explanations were
made, and when the sail-boat coming from Saucelito was near enough
to be spoken to, and the captain had engaged her to help his
schooner, we bade him good by, and got the man in the small boat-to
carry us ashore, and land us at the foot of the bluff, just below
the fort. Once there, I was at home, and we footed it up to the
Presidio. Of the sentinel I inquired who was in command of the
post, and was answered, "Major Merchant." He was not then in, but
his adjutant, Lieutenant Gardner, was. I sent my card to him; he
came out, and was much surprised to find me covered with sand, and
dripping with water, a good specimen of a shipwrecked mariner. A
few words of explanation sufficed; horses were provided, and we
rode hastily into the city, reaching the office of the Nicaragua
Steamship Company (C. K. Garrison, agent) about dark, just as the
purser had arrived; by a totally different route. It was too late
to send relief that night, but by daylight next morning two
steamers were en route for and reached the place of wreck in time
to relieve the passengers and bring them, and most of the baggage.
I lost my carpet-bag, but saved my trunk. The Lewis went to pieces
the night after we got off, and, had there been an average sea
during the night of our shipwreck, none of us probably would have
escaped. That evening in San Francisco I hunted up Major Turner,
whom I found boarding, in company with General E. A. Hitchcock, at
a Mrs. Ross's, on Clay Street, near Powell. I took quarters with
them, and began to make my studies, with a view to a decision
whether it was best to undertake this new and untried scheme of
banking, or to return to New Orleans and hold on to what I then
had, a good army commission.
At the time of my arrival, San Francisco was an the top wave of
speculation and prosperity. Major Turner had rented at six hundred
dollars a month the office formerly used and then owned by Adams &
Co., on the east side of Montgomery Street, between Sacramento and
California Streets. B. R. Nisbet was the active partner, and James
Reilly the teller. Already the bank of Lucas, Turner & Co. was
established, and was engaged in selling bills of exchange,
receiving deposits, and loaning money at three per cent. a month.
Page, Bacon & Co., and Adams & Co., were in full blast across the
street, in Parrott's new granite building, and other bankers were
doing seemingly a prosperous business, among them Wells, Fargo &
Co.; Drexel, Sather & Church; Burgoyne & Co.; James King of Win.;
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