A gigantic speculation, with a dwarfish result--Perils of
waters--Sickness and bereavement--Growth of Sacramento and San
Francisco--Voyage homeward--Imposition on
shipboard--Panama--Havana--Home--Concluding
observations--Practicability of Christian missions in Patagonia
considered.
On my arrival at the mines, I found my brothers engaged in a company of
twenty men, organized for the purpose of tunnelling a mountain ridge,
and digging a raceway at its base, with a view to dam the river and turn
it through the tunnel. By this means the bed of the river, for a mile or
more, would be laid bare, and gold in great profusion, it was believed,
would be discovered. Nineteen of the members were on the ground; the
twentieth was unable to come; and, though there were several applicants
for the vacancy, I was chosen to fill it. We commenced operations in
about a week. It may give a clearer idea of the magnitude of the work,
to state that an excavation, twelve feet wide by seven deep, was made,
by blasting through rock (slate and granite) a distance of over a
hundred feet. The race was nearly half a mile in length; the prices paid
for every article of food were enormous. Before turning the river, we
let out the expected field of gold to be worked by seven hundred men,
who were to give us one-half of the produce; there was great
expectation. The work was the greatest of this nature that had yet been
undertaken in California; we had worked hard through a whole season, and
brought it to a successful completion, without any fatal accident,
though several dangerous circumstances had threatened to retard its
progress. Everything being prepared, the dam was closed, the river
rose,--pressed, as if angrily, against the new barrier that opposed its
wonted flow,--and then sullenly explored the novel course that solicited
its waters. The dry channel was eagerly attacked; but, alas for human
hopes! it proved to be anything but rich; in fact, it was less favorable
for working than the average, and the diggers abandoned the spot,
leaving the company chagrined, and greatly disheartened at their
fruitless conclusion.
I came very near being delivered from this disappointment, and from all
other earthly cares,--those of authorship included,--by a hasty trip
into the rapids. During the intervals of our work, a young man of the
company undertook with me to construct a canoe, and establish a ferry
for passengers across the river. Our skiff, on its completion, was
carried by all hands to the river bank, and committed to the stream,
with all the ceremonies customary on the launching of larger craft. A
successful adventure was made, the next day, with one passenger. On the
following day six miners applied for passage; I took half of them on
board, with their picks, pans and shovels, and started with them. We had
approached within ten feet of the opposite bank, when a counter-current
suddenly struck us, whirled the head of the boat from the direction of
the shore, and, in spite of the utmost exertion, carried us into the
stream, and almost over the rapids. By a successful manoeuvre we
turned her head up stream, and paddled moderately till we had passed the
dangerous spot. At length, after a great struggle with imminent danger,
in the midst of which the passengers were praying and crying for mercy
and help, we reached some trees, standing in the swollen stream. By
taking hold of one of the branches the boat was brought to, but with
such violence as to dash in her side; we sprang safely into the trees as
soon as the boat struck. Our friends on shore cut poles, and extended
them to us, by help of which we were soon on terra firma. Our boat
rolled over, and sunk. An attack of dysentery soon after interrupted my
work, but not for a great length of time.
After the failure of our river speculation, I spent some time
"prospecting" for a desirable "digging." Before one was discovered that
offered much inducement, I was again prostrated by illness, during which
my brothers joined me, with the mournful intelligence that my little son
was no more! These heavy tidings, at such a time, proved almost too much
for an enfeebled body and anxious mind; it was the thought of my little
family that nerved my spirit against despair, in the darkest hours of
captivity. A blow _there_ turned my strength into weakness, and my
weakness well-nigh into absolute helplessness.
It would be too far from the purpose of this volume to solicit the
reader's company through all my wanderings for a year and a half in this
wonderful country, to which so many high hopes are carried, and from
which so many sad disappointments are daily borne. It is enough to say
that I had six successive attacks of sickness, the last the most severe
of all; I was brought to death's door, and had little hope of seeing
home again. After a month's illness, my medical attendant advised a
return to the States, as soon as I could bear the exercise of riding. At
the earliest day prudence would allow, I was carried, with all
practicable care, to Sacramento, a city I had not seen since I passed
through it a year and a half before. Its appearance was greatly improved
in every respect. With the increased supply of necessaries and
conveniences, the fabulous prices of eighteen months before had given
place to more sober, authentic, and matter-of-fact demands; steamboat
fare had fallen from twenty-five dollars to one, and the crowding and
shouting of runners compared with the most active scenes of the kind to
be witnessed in New York or Albany. We arrived at San Francisco during
the night; as the day dawned, and the mist that covered the town was
lifted, the spectacle that met the view was like enchantment; a compact
and well-built city had risen, its beautiful harbor lined with extensive
wharves, spacious warehouses, and elegant dwellings, fronting upon broad
streets, and all appliances of business and pleasure offering themselves
in profusion.
I walked to the nearest hotel, as I was too feeble to go a hundred
yards. The friend who accompanied me, and took upon himself all care of
the voyage in respect to both of us, found that the steamers were
crowded to the utmost, and engaged passage in a bark for San Juan del
Sud, or Panama. We examined the printed bill of fare, and thought it
would be very satisfactory, if its promises were fulfilled. I noticed,
however, that the potatoes on board were of bad quality, and suggested
the propriety of raising a committee of passengers to investigate the
stores; but the motion was overruled as unnecessary.
We put to sea with about a hundred and thirty passengers, many of whom
suffered severely from sea-sickness. These improved in a few days, and
began to feel like eating; but, to their consternation, instead of
wholesome provisions and fresh water, nothing was to be had but spoiled
meat, and water that was unfit to drink, having been put up in old
beer-casks and become tainted,--and a short allowance of that. We were
stinted to three pints a day each for drinking and culinary purposes.
The only wholesome and eatable articles of food were pork, bread and
dried apples. Tea and coffee were too wretched to be used. Those
wiseacres who had so summarily declined any examination of the
provisions before starting now came to me with very long faces,
confessing their error when it was too late to be remedied. For
forty-eight days they languished on this miserable fare. There were many
quarrels and contentions on board, growing out of these difficulties,
and some cases of sickness. We buried two men at sea and one the day
after our arrival in port; and the whole company, in fact, were little
better than skeletons when they reached San Juan. As to myself, my
appetite craved but little food, and the sea air agreed so well with me
that I had almost recovered on arrival there.
We mounted mules on the following day, and crossed to Lake Nicaragua,
which we reached just too late for the steamer. Some of the company went
up the lake and procured small sail to take them across, but I decided
to remain till the arrival of another regular steamer from San
Francisco. This detained us two weeks, when we proceeded to Georgetown,
on the Atlantic shore, and took passage on board the steamer Daniel
Webster, for New York, _via_ Havana. As we passed out of the harbor a
salute was fired for the United States steamer Saranac, then visiting
that port to investigate the affair of the British brig Express firing
into one of our steamers a short time before, on account of a refusal to
pay certain port charges. When fairly outside the bar, the tables were
set, and the hungry passengers had begun fortifying their stomachs with
eager emulation, when I perceived a commotion among the officers and men
betokening something wrong. Presently the head pump was working lively,
and the men appeared, running with buckets of water. To the questions
rained upon them they made no reply, but hastened along in silence. The
boat had taken fire, but it was promptly extinguished before many of the
passengers suspected it.
On arrival at Havana we anchored, after dark, under the walls of the
fort, and our fires were allowed to go out. During the night a breeze
sprung up, producing a swell in the harbor, which rendered our position
a dangerous one, as there was not room for the boat to swing around
clear of the rocks. The passengers all felt extremely anxious for their
safety; but the fires were renewed, sufficient steam was soon generated
to work the ponderous engine, the steamer swung slowly and safely
around, and we were safe. The Spanish guard-boats ordered us back to our
first anchorage, but the captain replied that he was master of the
vessel and should put her in a place of safety.
The next morning we took in coal and started for New York. I was seized,
on the following day, for the first time in my life, with chills and
fever, but partially recovered, under care of the ship's physician,
before arriving in port. We made New York without accident, and having
spent two days in the city, the steamer State of Maine bore me to my
home, January 13th, 1852,--after an absence of three years, lacking a
month,--with a heart rising gratefully to God for his many
interpositions in my behalf, to deliver me from the perils of the sea
and the perils of the land.
* * * * *
It can scarcely be necessary, for the benefit of any reader who has
followed me through the course of this narrative, to add any remarks on
the hazards of visiting Patagonia, or the consequences likely to ensue
in the event of shipwreck on that desolate coast. The land is dreary,
and it were a sufficient trial of fortitude to be cast away upon it,--to
run the imminent risk of perishing by cold, and hunger and thirst. But
the extremest peril arising from the poverty of the country is
exhilarating, compared with the tender mercies of the people. Rather
than trust to their protection, better hide from the light of day and
gnaw the bark of stunted trees for food, drinking, as I did, from the
briny sea. The dread which has deterred voyagers from entering the
country, or even touching the shore, unless armed to the teeth, offering
articles of traffic with one hand and holding a loaded musket in the
other, is no more than reasonable. I do not know that the country has
ever been explored by civilized man. The officers and men of the
Adventure and Beagle, two ships sent out by the British Admiralty to
survey the Straits of Magellan in the years 1826, 1830, 1832 and 1834,
examined and penetrated the country to a greater extent than any other
voyagers.
If the other tribes inhabiting the country resemble that with which I
was domesticated, it must be a hazardous enterprise for missionaries to
attempt the propagation of the gospel among them. Even apart from this,
the difficulty of gaining a subsistence there must prove an almost
insuperable obstacle. The barrenness of the soil, and the want of water,
render agriculture a desperate resource, and there is no spontaneous
product of the earth to sustain life. To live like the savages would be
simply impossible to men who have been habituated to the comforts of
civilized life; I could not have survived many months of such hardship.
Provisions would have to be imported; this difficulty seems sufficient
to discourage, if not to prevent, efforts in that direction. When, to
this, we add the cruelty, the duplicity, the treachery and
blood-thirstiness of the people, I am unable to conjecture through what
direct agency they can be reached by the influences of Christianity.
Whether access to them could be gained through their Spanish American
neighbors, or by enticing some of them, when young, into a more
civilized society, and so opening an avenue of peaceable and beneficial
intercourse, it is not easy to conclude, without actual experiment.
Since returning to this country, these views have been confirmed, by the
narrative recently published of the sad fate of the English missionaries
sent to Patagonia. Captain Gardiner, and three or four Cornish
fishermen, who volunteered for this labor of love, were landed by a
passing vessel somewhere, on the inhospitable coast. So inveterate was
the hostility of the natives, they durst not trust themselves among
them; they were driven, in their covered barges, from place to place;
like their Master, having not, on the land, where to lay their heads.
Arrangements had been made, before leaving England, to have provisions
follow them; thirty-six barrels of provisions, destined for them, were
found some time after, by a government vessel, at the Falkland Islands.
The commander took them on board, and sailed for the place of their
destination; upon their first landing, traces of the unfortunate men
were found; and, on thorough search, directions were discovered to look
for them at another place. They were followed from one stopping-place to
another, till the grave of one of them was found, who had died of
starvation. The survivors were traced to a spot where their boats lay on
the shore, unoccupied; at a little distance off lay their bodies,
unburied, their bones bleaching on the sand. The humane discoverers
buried their remains. On lifting a stone from the mouth of a cave, there
was disclosed a narrative of their sufferings, and of successive deaths,
written by Captain Gardiner; at the date of the last entry he had not
tasted food for four days. In all probability, he shared the fate of his
brethren,--starvation,--and with him closed their melancholy history. A
sad tale! Yet there were days and weeks when I would have gladly
exchanged my lot for wanderings like theirs, upon the desert shore. But
from those horrors I was mercifully delivered; they, in the prosecution
of a sacred and benevolent errand, were cut down by the dispensation of
Him who seeth not as man seeth.
It may occur to some reader that the deceptions I practised upon the
natives, as frankly narrated, had a tendency to impair their confidence
in white men, and thus to increase the difficulty of reaching them by
Christian influences, and to render the lot of any poor man hereafter
falling into their hands more desperate than it would otherwise be.
Perhaps so; yet the danger does not seem so imminent, when we consider
that they are entire strangers to truth. Probably no Patagonian's
experience or observation could furnish an example of consistent
veracity, and they would not be likely to suspect the existence of such
a virtue in any one. It is apparent, from their behavior in the "last
scene of all" with me, that from first to last they vehemently
mistrusted my statements; and their most likely comment on the report of
the chief must have been, "I told you so." The shock was less than if
they had reposed a more generous confidence.
The notoriety which was given to my capture by the newspaper press
called forth many expressions of sympathy from persons who knew nothing
of me, except that I was a fellow-being in distress. To all such I
tender my thanks. It is a grateful duty, in parting company with the
reader, to renew the expression of thankful remembrance with which I
recall the benefactors who, under God, rescued and befriended me,--Mr.
Hall, and the noble-hearted captains, who fed and clothed me when hungry
and naked, and conveyed me gratuitously to my destination. Nor can I
forget the prompt action of the Honorable Secretary of the Navy, the
efficient exertions of the officers of the Vandalia, or the generosity
of Commodore Jones. I would also acknowledge, with the liveliest
gratitude, my obligations to the Hon. Daniel Webster,[A] the Hon. R. C.
Winthrop, the Hon. George Evans, of Maine, and to the Hon. Joseph
Grinnell, and the Hon. John H. Clifford, of New Bedford;--all of whom,
when informed of my captivity, volunteered their aid, and made those
representations to the Navy department which resulted in the despatch of
the Vandalia on her humane mission. Nor must I omit to add my thanks to
Mr. Denison, who kindly bore their memorials to Washington, and laid
them before the department. If I acquired nothing more by my
unlooked-for experience, I at least gained a warmer patriotism, and a
profounder sense of the benignant wisdom of Providence.
[A] Since this was written he has passed beyond the reach of my
thanks; but this fact cannot suppress the utterance of gratitude
which I owe to his august memory.