LUMP OF GOLD LOST.—INDIANS AT THEIR GAME OF ARROWS.—CAMP OF THE
GOLD-HUNTERS.—A SONORANIAN GOLD-DIGGER.—SABBATH IN THE MINES.—THE
GIANT WELCHMAN.—NATURE OF GOLD DEPOSITS.—AVERAGE PER MAN.—NEW
DISCOVERIES.
SATURDAY, OCT. 7. I had come to the mines without a pick, but this
morning fell in with a trader who had one for sale: his price was ten
dollars in specie, or eighteen in gold dust. I gave him the specie; the
pick weighed about four pounds, was of rude manufacture, and without a
handle; but this appendage was readily supplied from the limb of an ash.
Thus accoutred I strode down the ravine, not doubting but what I should,
before night, strike upon some deposit which would fill my pockets.
Passing groups who were engaged in digging into this bank and that, I
fell in with a sailor, whom I recognized as one of the men who had been
honorably discharged from the Savannah. He was groping about as if in
quest of something he had lost. “What is the matter, Jones?” I inquired;
he sprung to his feet, gave me his rough hand, and pointed to a cliff
which overhung the glen. “There, on that crag,” said he, “I have been at
work ever since the peep of day, and got out several bits of gold, and
one good-sized lump: I put them in my tin cup, when, striking away
again, my pick glanced, struck the cup, and knocked it, gold and all,
half-way across this ravine; and I might as well hunt a clam in the
Pacific as that gold, though it was a jewel of a piece—the biggest I
have seen here.” So I laid down my pick, ascended the cliff,
ascertained, as near as possible, the direction in which the cup flew,
and commenced the search. Every bunch of leaves, every hole and gulley
were examined, and the cup recovered, but the gold was not in it.
Fatigued, I threw myself into the shade of a scrub-oak, and went to
sleep; but the gold of poor Jones glanced through my dreams. I saw, in
that fantastic realm, a small birch-tree, a bubbling spring at its root,
and in its fount a piece of gold. I seemed to know at the time it was
only a dream; still the picture remained in my mind so clear, so
distinct, that on awaking I identified at a glance the birch, and
springing to its root found the little fount, and with a hoe fetched up
the piece of gold!—the same that had been lost, for none other could
answer so exactly to the description which had been given. It weighed
about three ounces, but did not seem larger than the sparkling eye of
the sailor as I placed it in his hand. They may laugh who will at
dreams, but now and then some Sibyl leaf floats through them. I tried to
dream again where gold might be found; saw plenty of birch-trees and
fountains, but never discovered an ingot in either.
MONDAY, OCT. 9. On returning to our camping-tree this afternoon, I found
three wild Indians quietly squatted in its shade. They had been
attracted there by a red belt, which hung from one of the limbs. They
could speak only their native dialect, not a word of which could I
understand. We had to make ourselves intelligible by signs. They wanted
to purchase the belt, and each laid down a piece of gold, which were
worth in the aggregate some two hundred dollars. I took one of the
pieces, and gave the Indian to whom it belonged the belt. They made
signs for a piece of coin; I offered them an eagle, but it was not what
they wanted,—a Spanish mill dollar, but they wanted something smaller,—a
fifty-cent piece, and they signified it would do. Taking the coin they
fastened it in the end of a stick, so as to expose nearly the entire
circle, and set it up about forty yards distant. They then cast lots by
a bone, which they threw into the air, for the order in which they
should discharge their arrows. The one who had the first shot, drew his
long sinewy bow and missed; the second, he missed; the third, and he
missed,—though the arrow of each flew so near the coin it would have
killed a deer at that distance. The second now shot first and grazed the
coin; then the third, who broke his string and shot with the bow of the
second, but missed; and now the first took his turn, and struck the
coin, whirling it off at a great distance. The other two gave him the
belt, which he tied around his head instead of his blanket, and away
they started over the hills, full of wild life and glee, leaving the
coin, as a thing of no importance, in the bushes where it had been
whirled.
TUESDAY, OCT. 10. My companions, who have been out on a gold-hunt for
several hours, have just returned, bringing with them about an ounce of
gold each. They are so thoroughly fatigued they prefer sleep to a
dinner, connected with the trouble of preparing it. And there is no
other way here; every man is obliged to be his own cook. We have our
henchman, it is true, but he is in a ravine some four miles distant, in
charge of our horses and mules. If he will keep them from straying, or
being stolen by the wild Indians, we shall be content to wait on
ourselves. Several of the persons at work in the ravine turned their
horses adrift on their arrival, which they might safely do, for the poor
things have not got strength enough to climb its steep sides. They
subsist on the acorns which they gather, and a few tufts of grass as dry
and scorched as the clover over which the flames of Sodom rolled. But
what think men of the hunger or thirst of dumb animals, when the gold
fever is throwing its circle of fire around the soul.
WEDNESDAY, OCT. 11. It is near sunset, and the gold-diggers are
returning from their labors, each one bearing on his head a brush-heap,
with which he will kindle his evening fire. Their wild halloos, as they
come in, fill the cliffs with their echoes. All are merry, whatever may
have been the fortunes of the day with them. Not one among the whole can
anticipate a more luxurious supper than a cake baked in the ashes, with
a cup of coffee and a bit of jerked-beef, except in the case of a
new-comer, who has brought with him a few pounds of buckwheat flour; he
can have a pancake, that is if he has any thing with which to grease his
pan, which is extremely doubtful. There is not a bottle of liquor in the
ravine, and every one must, per force, turn in sober. Every streamlet
preaches temperance, and the wind-stirred pine sings its soft eulogy on
the charmed air.
THURSDAY, OCT. 12. I found near our camp this morning a boulder of trap
and quartz which had evidently travelled some distance, as nothing of
the kind existed in the ravine. I had no means of demolishing the mass,
and could with my pick only dislodge a few of the quartz: these I found
veined with gold. But it is the only specimen of this combination with
which I have met. Where the fellow came from, I know not; but had he
tumbled into New York or Philadelphia, instead of this cañada, the whole
community would have been filled with prattling wonders. How much the
marvellous depends on circumstances!
FRIDAY, OCT. 13. I passed a few days since a Sonoranian at work against
a steep bank of decomposed granite and clay, which was so firm that he
could hardly make an impression upon it with a heavy sharp-pointed
crowbar. “And what, my friend,” I inquired, “are you going to get out
there?” to which he replied, “A pocket of gold, sir, as soon as I can
reach it.” “And what makes you think,” I continued, “that you will find
a deposit there?” to which he responded, “Do you see that blow-hole on
the other side of the ravine, where the slate rock stands out so rough,
with a savage mouth in the centre? Well, sir, _that_ was the devil’s
blow-hole, and he blowed the gold straight across the ravine into this
bank, where I will find it, if I work long enough.” I thought him some
half-crazy fellow, and passed on. He dug away all that day without
reaching his pocket; but on the following day took out two pounds of
gold, in small pieces, resembling in shape the seeds of the watermelon.
As soon as this was known, four of the New York volunteers struck in
each side of the Sonoranian, and dug him out; and the old man very
quietly retired. The intruders dug away through the remainder of the
day, but found no gold, and then quit the spot, concluding that the
Sonoranian had got out the only pocket which existed there. The next
morning, however, the Sonoranian renewed his attack on the bank, and
with his sharp-pointed crowbar and pick, penetrated beyond the layer
where the volunteers had knocked off. Before night he struck another
pocket, and took out a pound and a half of gold of the same shape and
size as the other. The volunteers were now roused, and returned to the
spot, determined to dig down the whole bank; but one day of hard work,
unrewarded by a single particle of gold, was enough. They quitted the
bank in disgust. The old Sonoranian told me it contained no more
pockets. His theory about the blow-hole is by no means confined to his
own wild imagination; a man by the name of Black, who is one of the most
successful gold-hunters in the ravine, is guided, in his researches, by
the same seemingly absurd theory. It is possible that these blow-holes,
as they are called, were the vents of volcanoes, performing the same
functions as those found beneath the shaking cone of Etna.
SATURDAY, OCT. 14. A party of seven Americans are just in from the
higher slopes of the Sierra, where they have been prospecting for gold.
They penetrated to the snow, tearing up roots, overturning rocks and
draining fountains, but discovering no gold. It is the foot range of the
Sierra that contains the deposits; this has been cut into segments by
rapid streams, rising higher up, and which have sunk their channels into
deep gorges. The larger portion of the gold, subjected to the action of
these torrents, has been swept out upon the plain, or buried deep in
some nearer undulation, where it will remain undisturbed till the
deposits nearer the surface have been exhausted. These deeper treasures,
like the inhumed remains of a Herculaneum, will then be brought to
light.
SUNDAY, OCT. 15. A quiet day among the gold-diggers; but few are at work
with pick or pan; small parties have gone over the hills “prospecting,”
but the masses are beneath the oak and pines, which shadow the cañadas.
Missionaries might find a field here in this rolling population; the
waving grain, as well as the still, falls before the sickle of the
reaper. There is something inspiring in wild-wood worship; you are with
nature and nature’s God: every thing around you trembles in the breath
of the Almighty: the glad rivulet whispers his name, and the pine-grove
pours its sweeping anthem; your spirit soars on lighter wings, and
religion becomes, as another has beautifully expressed it, the play of
the soul in the sunbeams of God.
MONDAY, OCT. 16. I encountered this morning, in the person of a
Welchman, a pretty marked specimen of the gold-digger. He stood some six
feet eight in his shoes, with giant limbs and frame. A leather strap
fastened his coarse trowsers above his hips, and confined the flowing
bunt of his flannel shirt. A broad-rimmed hat sheltered his browny
features, while his unshorn beard and hair flowed in tangled confusion
to his waist. To his back was lashed a blanket and bag of provisions; on
one shoulder rested a huge crowbar, to which were hung a gold-washer and
skillet; on the other rested a rifle, a spade, and pick, from which
dangled a cup and pair of heavy shoes. He recognized me as the
magistrate who had once arrested him for a breach of the peace. “Well,
Señor Alcalde,” said he, “I am glad to see you in these diggings. You
had some trouble with me in Monterey; I was on a burster; you did your
duty, and I respect you for it; and now let me settle the difference
between us with a bit of gold: it shall be the first I strike under this
bog.” I told him there was no difference between us; that I knew at the
time it was rum which had raised the rumpus. But before I had finished
my disclaiming speech, his traps were on the ground, and his heavy pick
was tearing up bog after bog from the marl in which it had struck its
tangling roots. These removed, he struck a layer of clay: “Here she
comes!” he ejaculated, and turned out a piece of gold that would weigh
an ounce or more. “There,” said he, “Señor Alcalde, accept that; and
when you reach home, where I hope you will find all well, have a
bracelet made of it for your good lady.”
He continued to dig around the same place, but during the hour I
remained with him found no other piece of gold—not a particle. This is
no uncommon thing; I have seen a piece weighing six ounces taken from
some little curve in a bank undulating in its bed, while not another of
any size, after the most laborious search, could be found in its
vicinity. This holds true of the larger pieces, but rarely of the scale
gold. Where you find half an ounce of that, you may be pretty sure there
is more near by. The same law which deposited that, has carried its
results much further; and you will find a clue to them in the curves of
the channel, or the character and position of the rocks which project
into it. If the projection is smooth, or forms an obtuse angle with the
current, there is no gold there, and you must look to the eddy directly
below it. This eddy, or its deposit, can be examined only when the water
has subsided. During the rainy season, and when the snows are melting on
the Sierra, no such investigations can be successfully prosecuted. Of
all metals the most difficult to reach and secure under water is gold.
It has a thousand modes of eluding your search, and escaping your
scooping implements.
TUESDAY, OCT. 17. A German this morning, picking a hole in the ground,
near our camping-tree, for a tent-pole, struck a piece of gold, weighing
about three ounces. As soon as it was known, some forty picks were
flying into the earth all around the spot. You would have thought the
ground had suddenly caved over some human being, who must be instantly
disinhumed or die. But the fellow sought was not the companion of the
digger, but the mate of the yellow boy accidentally found by the German.
But no such mate was discovered; the one found had slumbered thus alone
like Adam before the birth of Eve. How solitary that couch, though in
Paradise! Think of that, ye devotees of celibacy, who people your dreams
with fairies, and imagine a bliss amid the wrecks of the fall, which was
not the portion of man even before that moral catastrophe.
But I forget the piece of gold; no fellow was found for it here; but in
a ravine, seven miles distant, a little girl this morning picked up what
she thought a curious stone, and brought it to her mother, who, on
removing the extraneous matter, found it a lump of pure gold, weighing
between six and seven pounds. The news of this discovery silenced all
the picks here for half an hour, and set as many tongues going in their
places. Twenty or thirty started at once to explore the wonders of this
new locality. Gold among hunters, like a magnet in the midst of
ferruginous bodies, attracts every thing to itself.
WEDNESDAY, OCT. 18. We are camped in the centre of the gold mines, in
the heart of the richest deposits which have been found, and where there
are many hundred at work. I have taken some pains to ascertain the
average per man that is got out; it must be less than half an ounce per
day. It might be more were there any stability among the diggers; but
half their time is consumed in what they call prospecting; that is,
looking up new deposits. An idle rumor, or mere surmise, will carry them
off in this direction or that, when perhaps they gathered nothing for
their weariness and toil. A locality where an ounce a day can be
obtained by patient labor is constantly left for another, which rumor
has enriched with more generous deposits. They who decry this
instability in others, may hold out for a time, but yield at last to the
same phrensied fickleness. I have never met with one who had the
strength of purpose to resist these roving temptations. He will not
swing a pick for an ounce a day, with the rumor of pounds ringing in his
ears. He shoulders his implements to chase this phantom of hope.
THURSDAY, OCT. 19. All the gold-diggers through the entire encampment,
were shaken out of their slumbers this morning by a report that a solid
pocket of gold had been discovered in a bend of the Stanislaus. In half
an hour a motley multitude, covered with crowbars, pickaxes, spades,
rifles, and wash-bowls, went streaming over the hills in the direction
of the new deposits. You would have thought some fortress was to be
stormed, or some citadel sapped. I had seen too much of these rumored
banks of gold to be moved from my propriety, and remained under my old
camping-tree. Near this I pecked out from a small crevice of slate rock,
a piece weighing about half an ounce. It had evidently travelled some
distance, and taken refuge from the propulsive storms of ages in this
little hiding-place, as a good man from the persecutions of the world
glides down at last to his sainted repose. But I have no compunction for
having disturbed this piece of gold; it may yet be shaped into an
ear-drop, and kiss the envied cheek of beauty; or it may be studded with
diamonds, and swell on a billow that seems to blush at the flash of its
ray; or it may be shaped into the marriage-ring, and set its seal on the
purest bliss that greets the visits of angels; or it may be stamped into
a coin, and as it drops into the hands of the widow or orphan, prove
that—
“The secret pleasure of a generous act
Is the great mind’s great bribe.”
But evening is returning, and with it the gold-diggers from their
pursuit of the new deposit. Their jokes, as they clatter down the slopes
of the ravine, are sufficient evidence that they have been on a
wild-goose chase. Disappointment will make a single man sober, but when
it falls on a multitude, is often converted into a source of railery and
fun. There is something extremely consoling in having the company of
others, when we have been duped through our vanity or exaggerated hopes.
This comfort was deeply felt by the diggers this evening. All had lost a
day, and with it the most enchanting visions of wealth. All had returned
hungry as a wolf on a desert; or a recluse listening in his last penance
to the sound of his cross-bones, shaken by the wind.