ARRIVAL OF THE FIRST PONY EXPRESS.
I happened to be in Sacramento on the thirteenth day of April, 1861,
and found the city full of irrepressible excitement. Men on gayly
caparisoned horses galloping hither and thither, unfurled flags, and a
general air of expectancy on eager faces everywhere betokened an
occasion of rare moment. At times hats were swung aloft and cheers rang
out tumultuously, only to be hushed by the disappointing murmur, "Not
yet." But an instant's quiet, and there was a mad rush of the populace
toward Sutter's Fort; then again enthusiasm died, and the crowds ebbed
back up J Street, which, some eight or ten feet higher than any other
street in the city, extended straight as an arrow from the fort to
where the bay steamer lightly hugged the water front, puffing and
impatient to be off to San Francisco.
So the anxious waiting continued until the day was well on to its
close, when suddenly, vociferous cheers again rent the air, and this
time knew no cessation. What a din! With leap and outcry, all faced
Sutter's Fort. That was a spectacle to be remembered.
Pony! The pony, hurrah, hurrah! We see a dark speck in the distance.
It grows, as up J Street it comes. Now, the pony foams before us; now,
swift as the wind, it is gone. It passes reception committee, passes
escort. It reaches the water front; down the gang-plank it dashes; the
band plays, the whistle blows, the bell rings, the steamer catches the
middle of the stream and is off, leaving a trail of sparks and smoke in
the twilight, and bearing away the first "Pony Express," memorable in
history.
The baffling problem is solved; the dream of years is realized;
expeditious mail service with the East is an accomplished fact.
No wonder the people cheered! It was a gigantic scheme, well conceived,
magnificently executed. Think of it, a stretch of two thousand miles of
mountain wild and desert plain covered in twelve days!
How was it done? Horses were tested and riders selected by weight and
power of endurance. The latter were boys in years--Bill Cody, the
youngest, said to be only fourteen years of age. The pouch was light,
its contents were limited--but how gladly five dollars per letter was
paid for those precious missives.
Every detail was carefully arranged. The first mount left St. Joseph,
Missouri, April 2; relay camps were established ten miles apart, with a
horse ever in readiness for instantaneous exchange, and a fresh rider,
mounted for the next run, was waiting at each successive hundred-mile
station along the entire route.
Small wonder those pioneers were beside themselves with enthusiastic
excitement. The minds of many reverted to personal experiences with ox
team, or jogtrot of horses or mule train. Here was the Overland Stage
outdone; even the speed with which Monk Hanks brought Horace Greeley
over the mountains was at discount.