Death of Ada Keseberg
Denton Discovering Gold
A Poem Composed While Dying
The Caches of Provisions Robbed by Fishers
The Sequel to the Reed-Snyder Tragedy
Death from Over-eating
The Agony of Frozen Feet
An Interrupted Prayer
Stanton, after Death, Guides the Relief Party
The Second Relief Party Arrives
A Solitary Indian
Patty Reed and her Father
Starving Children Lying in Bed
Mrs. Graves' Money Still Buried at Donner Lake.
Peasin P. Tucker's relief party had twenty-one emigrants with them after
Patty and Thomas Reed returned to the desolate cabins. On the evening
of the first day, one of the twenty-one died. It was the baby child of
Lewis Keseberg. The mother had fairly worshiped her girl. They buried
the little one in the snow. It was all they could do for the pallid
form of the starved little girl. Mrs. Keseberg was heart-broken over
her baby's death. At the very outset she had offered everything she
possessed--twenty-five dollars and a gold watch-to any one who would
carry her child over the mountains. After the starved band resumed their
weary march next morning, it is doubtful if many thought of the niche
hollowed out of the white snow, or of the pulseless heart laid therein.
Death had become fearfully common, and his victims were little heeded
by the perishing company. The young German mother, however, was
inconsolable. Her only boy had starved to death at the cabins, and now
she was childless.
The next day the company reached Summit Valley. An incident of this
day's travel illustrates the exhausted condition of the members of
the Donner Party. John Denton, an Englishman, was missed when camp was
pitched, and John Rhodes returned and found him fast asleep upon the
snow. He had become so weary that he yielded to a slumber that would
soon have proven fatal. With much labor and exertion he was aroused and
brought to camp. Denton appreciated the kindness, but at the same time
declared that it would be impossible for him to travel another day.
Sure enough, after journeying a little way on the following morning, his
strength utterly gave way. His companions built a fire for him, gave him
such food as they were able, and at his earnest request continued their
sorrowful march. If another relief came soon, he would, perhaps, be
rescued. Denton was well educated and of good family, was a gunsmith by
trade, and was skilled in metals. It is related, that while in the
Reed cabin, he discovered in the earth, ashes, and burnt stones in the
fireplace, some small pieces of yellowish metal, which he declared to
be gold. These he made into a small lump, which he carefully preserved
until he left the lake, and it was doubtless lost on the mountains at
his death. This was in the spring of 1847, before the discovery of gold
in California. The strange little metallic lump was exhibited to several
who are yet living, and who think there is reason for believing it was
really gold. A few years before the construction of the Central Pacific,
Knoxville, about ten miles south of Donner Lake, and Elizabethtown, some
six miles from Truckee, were famous mining camps. Gold never has been
found on the very shore of Donner Lake, but should the discovery be
made, and especially should gold be found in the rocks or earth near the
Reed cabin, there would be reason to believe that this poor unfortunate
man was in reality the first discoverer of the precious metal in
California. Left alone in the snow-mantled forests of the Sierra, what
were this man's emotions? In the California Star of 1847, a bound volume
of which is in the State Library in Sacramento, appears the following
poem. The second relief party found it written on the leaf of a
memorandum book by the side of Denton's lifeless body. The pencil with
which it was written lay also by the side of the unfortunate man. Ere
the lethargy of death stole away his senses, John Denton's thoughts had
been of his boyhood's beautiful home in merry England. These thoughts
were woven into verse. Are they not strangely pathetic and beautiful?
Judge Thornton, in 1849, published them with the following prefatory
words: "When the circumstances are considered in connection with the
calamities in which the unhappy Denton was involved, the whole compass
of American and English poetry may be challenged to furnish a more
exquisitely beautiful, a more touching and pathetic piece. Simple and
intimate to the last degree, yet coming from the heart, it goes to the
heart. Its lines are the last plaintive notes which wintry winds have
wakened from an Lolian harp, the strings of which rude hands have
sundered. Bring before your mind the picture of an amiable young man who
has wandered far from the paternal roof, is stricken by famine, and left
by his almost equally unhappy companions to perish among the terrible
snows of the great Sierra Nevada. He knows that his last, most solemn
hour is near. Reason still maintains her empire, and memory, faithful
to the last, performs her functions. On every side extends a boundless
waste of trackless snow. He reclines against a bank of it, to rise no
more, and busy memory brings before him a thousand images of past beauty
and pleasure, and of scenes he will never revisit. A mother's image
presents itself to his mind, tender recollections crowd upon his heart,
and the scenes of his boyhood and youth pass in review before him with
an unwonted vividness. The hymns of praise and thanksgiving that in
harmony swelled from the domestic circle around the family altar are
remembered, and soothe the sorrows of the dying man, and finally, just
before he expires, he writes:"
"Oh! after many roving years,
How sweet it is to come
Back to the dwelling-place of youth,
Our first and dearest home;
To turn away our wearied eyes
From proud ambition's towers,
And wander in those summer fields,
The scenes of boyhood's hours."
"But I am changed since last I gazed
Upon that tranquil scene,
And sat beneath the old witch elm
That shades the village green;
And watched my boat upon the brook
It was a regal galley
And sighed not for a joy on earth,
Beyond the happy valley."
"I wish I could once more recall
That bright and blissful joy,
And summon to my weary heart--
The feelings of a boy.
But now on scenes of past delight
I look, and feel no pleasure,
As misers on the bed of death
Gaze coldly on their treasure."
When Captain Tucker's relief party were going to Donner Lake, they left
a portion of their provisions in Summit Valley, tied up in a tree. They
had found these provisions difficult to carry, and besides, it was
best to have something provided for their return, in case the famished
emigrants ate all they carried over the summit. It was indeed true that
all was eaten which they carried over. All the scanty allowances were,
one after another, consumed. When the relief party, and those they were
rescuing, reached the place where the provisions had been cached, they
were in great need of the reserve store which they expected to find.
To their horror and dismay, they found that wild animals had gnawed the
ropes by which the cache had been suspended, and had destroyed every
vestige of these provisions! Death stared them in the face, and the
strongest men trembled at the prospect.
Here comes the sequel to the Reed-Snyder tragedy. Had it not been for
Reed's banishment, there is every reason to believe that these people
would have died for want of food. It will be remembered, however, that
the relief party organized by Reed was only a few days behind Captain
Tucker's. On the twenty-seventh of February, just as the horror and
despair of their dreadful situation began to be realized, Tucker, and
those with him, were relieved by the second relief party.
In order to better understand these events, let us return and follow
the motions of Reed and the members of the second relief party. In the
article quoted in a former chapter from the Rural Press, Reed traced
their progress as far as Johnson's ranch. Patty Reed (Mrs. Frank Lewis)
has in her possession the original diary kept by her father during this
journey. This diary shows that on the very morning Capt. Tucker, and the
company with him, left Donner Lake to return to the valleys, Reed and
the second relief party started from Johnson's ranch to go to Donner
Lake. All that subsequently occurred, is briefly and pointedly narrated
in the diary.
"February 22, 1847. All last night I kept fire under the beef which I
had drying on the scaffolds, and Johnson's Indians were grinding flour
in a small hand-mill. By sunrise this morning I had about two hundred
pounds of beef dried and placed in bags. We packed our horses and
started with our supplies. Including the meat Greenwood had dried, we
had seven hundred pounds of flour, and five beeves. Mr. Greenwood had
three men, including himself. Traveled this day about ten miles."
"Feb. 23. Left camp early this morning, and pushed ahead, but camped
early on account of grass. To-morrow we will reach the snow."
"Feb. 24. Encamped at Mule Springs this evening. Made arrangements
to take to the snow in the morning, having left in camp our saddles,
bridles, etc."
"Feb. 25. Started with eleven horses and mules lightly packed, each
having about eighty pounds. Traveled two miles, and left one mule and
his pack. Made to-day, with hard labor for the horses, in the snow,
about six miles. Our start was late."
"Feb. 26. Left our encampment, Cady thinking the snow would bear the
horses. Proceeded two hundred yards with difficulty, when we were
compelled to unpack the horses and take the provisions on our backs.
Usually the men had kept in the best of spirits, but here, for a few
moments, there was silence. When the packs were ready to be strung upon
their backs, however, the hilarity and good feeling again commenced.
Made the head of Bear Valley, a distance of fifteen miles. We met in
the valley, about three miles below the camp, Messrs. Glover and Rhodes,
belonging to the party that went to the lake. They informed me they had
started with twenty-one persons, two of whom had died, John Denton, of
Springfield, Ill., and a child of Mr. and Mrs. Keseberg. Mr. Glover sent
two men back to the party with fresh provisions. They are in a starving
condition, and all have nearly given out. I have lightened our packs
with a sufficient quantity of provisions to do the people when they
shall arrive at this place.
"Feb. 27. I sent back two men to our camp of night before last, to bring
forward provisions. They will return to-morrow. I also left one man to
prepare for the people who were expected today. Left camp on a fine,
hard snow, and proceeded about four miles, when we met the poor,
unfortunate, starved people. As I met them scattered along the
snowtrail, I distributed some bread that I had baked last night. I gave
in small quantities to each. Here I met my wife and two of my little
children. Two of my children are still in the mountains. I can not
describe the deathlike look all these people had. 'Bread!' 'Bread!'
'Bread!' 'Bread!' was the begging cry of every child and grown person. I
gave all I dared to them, and set out for the scene of desolation at
the lake. I am now camped within twenty-five miles of the place, which
I hope to reach by traveling to-night and tomorrow. We had to camp early
this evening, on account of the softness of the snow, the men sinking in
to their waists, The party who passed us to-day were overjoyed when we
told them there was plenty of provision at camp. I made a cache, to-day,
after we had traveled about twelve miles, and encamped three miles
further eastward, on the Yuba. Snow about fifteen feet deep."
The meeting between Reed and his family can better be imagined than
described. For months they had been separated. While the father was
battling with fate in endeavoring to reach California and return with
assistance, the mother had been using every exertion to obtain food for
her starving children. Now they met in the mountains, in the deep snows,
amid pathless forests, at a time when the mother and children, and all
with them, were out of provisions and ready to perish.
Meantime, the first relief; with their little company, now reduced to
nineteen, passed forward toward the settlements. At Bear Valley, another
cache of provisions had been made, and this was found unmolested.
Camping at this place, the utmost precaution was taken to prevent the
poor starved people from overeating. After a sufficient quantity of food
had been distributed, the remainder of the provisions was hung up in a
tree. Of course, the small portion distributed to each did not satisfy
the cravings of hunger. Some time during the night, Wm. Hook quietly
crept to the tree, climbed up to the food, and ate until his hunger was
appeased. Poor boy, it was a fatal act. Toward morning it was discovered
that he was dying. All that the company could do to relieve his
sufferings was done, but it was of no avail. Finding that the poor boy
was past relief; most of the emigrants moved on toward the settlements.
Wm. G. Murphy's feet had been badly frozen, and he was suffering such
excruciating agony that he could not travel and keep up with the others.
At his request, his sister Mary had cut his shoes open, in order to get
them off; and his feet thereupon swelled up as if they had been scalded.
Because he could not walk, the company left him with William Hook. A
camp-keeper also remained. This boy's death is thus described by Mr.
Murphy, who writes:
"William Hook went out on the snow and rested on his knees and elbows.
The camp-keeper called to him to come in. He then told me to make him
come into camp. I went and put my hand on him, speaking his name, and
he fell over, being already dead. He did not die in great agony, as is
usually alleged. No groan, nor signs of dying, were manifested to us.
The camp-keeper and myself took the biscuits and jerked beef from his
pockets, and buried him just barely under the ground, near a tree which
had been fired, and from around which the snow had melted." Those who
were in the company thought Wm. G. Murphy could not possibly walk, but
when all had gone, and Hook was dead, and no alternative remained but to
walk or die, he did walk. It took him two days to go barefooted over the
snow to Mule Springs, a journey which the others had made in one day.
The agony which he endured during that trip can better be imagined than
described. Nothing but an indomitable will could have sustained him
during those two days.
All the members of this relief party suffered greatly, and several came
near perishing. Little James F. Reed, Jr., was too small to step in the
tracks made by the older members of the party. In order to travel with
the rest he had to partly use his knees in walking. When one foot was
in a track he would place the other knee on the untrodden snow, and was
thus enabled to put his foot in the next track. John Denton was left
with a good fire, and when last seen was reclining smoking, on a bed of
freshly gathered pine boughs. He looked so comfortable that the little
timid boy James begged hard to be allowed to remain with him. Mrs. Reed
had hard work to coax him to come. Among other things, she promised that
when he reached California he should have a horse "all for himself," and
that he should never have to walk any more. This promise was literally
fulfilled. James F. Reed, Jr., since reaching California, has always
had a horse of his own. No matter what vicissitudes of fortune have
overtaken him, he has always kept a saddle horse.
Sad scenes were occurring at the cabin at Donner Lake and the tents
at Alder Creek. Starvation was fast claiming its victims. The poor
sufferers tried to be brave and trust God, but sometimes hope well-nigh
disappeared. The evening prayers were always read in Patrick Breen's
cabin, and all the inmates knelt and joined in the responses. Once when
they were thus praying, they heard the cries of wild geese flying over
the cabin. With one accord all raised their heads and listened for a
moment to the soul-inspiring sound. "Thank God, the spring is coming,"
was all Patrick Breen said, and again bowing their heads, the prayer was
resumed.
Charles L. Cady, writing from Calistoga, says that Commodore Stockton
employed Greenwood and Turner to guide the second relief party over the
mountains to Donner Lake. Cady, Stone, and Clark, being young, vigorous
men, left their companions, or were sent forward by Reed, and reached
the cabins some hours in advance of the party. At one time, near the
present station of Summit Valley, Cady and Stone became bewildered,
thought they were lost, and wanted to return. Mr. Clark, however,
prevailed upon them to press forward, agreeing that if they did not
catch some glimpse of Donner Lake when they reached a certain mountain
top in the distance, he would give up and return with them. Had they
reached the mountain top they could not have seen the lake, and so
would have turned back, but while they were ascending, they came to the
lifeless body of C. T. Stanton sitting upright against a tree. There was
no longer room for doubting that they were going in the right direction
to reach Donner Lake. Poor Stanton! even in death he pointed out to
the relief party the way to the starving emigrants, to save whom he had
sacrificed his life.
Reed's diary continues:
"Feb. 28. Left camp about twelve o'clock at night, but was compelled to
camp about two o'clock, the snow still being soft. Left again about four
o'clock, all hands, and made this day fourteen miles. Encamped early;
snow very soft. The snow here is thirty feet deep. Three of my men,
Cady, Clark, and Stone, kept on during the night to within two miles
of the cabins, where they halted, and remained without fire during the
night, on account of having seen ten Indians. The boys did not have any
arms, and supposed these Indians had taken the cabins and destroyed the
people. In the morning they started, and reached the cabins. All were
alive in the houses. They gave provisions to Keseberg, Breen, Graves,
and Mrs. Murphy, and the two then left for Donner's, a distance of seven
miles, which they made by the middle of the day."
"March 1. I came up with the remainder of my party, and told the people
that all who were able should start day after to-morrow. Made soup for
the infirm, washed and clothed afresh Eddy's and Foster's children, and
rendered every assistance in my power. I left Mr. Stone with Keseberg's
people to cook, and to watch the eating of Mrs. Murphy, Keseberg, and
three children."
In Patrick Breen's diary is found the following:
"Feb. 23. Froze hard last night. To-day pleasant and thawy; has the
appearance of spring, all but the deep snow. Wind south-south-east. Shot
a dog to-day and dressed his flesh."
"Feb. 25. To-day Mrs. Murphy says the wolves are about to dig up the
dead bodies around her shanty, and the nights are too cold to watch
them, but we hear them howl."
"Feb. 26. Hungry times in camp; plenty of hides, but the folks will
not eat them; we eat them with tolerably good appetite, thanks to the
Almighty God. Mrs. Murphy said here yesterday that she thought she would
commence on Milton and eat him. I do not think she has done so yet; it
is distressing. The Donners told the California folks four days ago that
they would commence on the dead people if they did not succeed that day
or the next in finding their cattle, then ten or twelve feet under the
snow, and they did not know the spot or near it; they have done it ere
this."
"Feb. 28. One solitary Indian passed by yesterday; came from the lake;
had a heavy pack on his back; gave me five, or six roots resembling
onions in shape; tasted some like a sweet potato; full of tough little
fibers."
"March 1. Ten men arrived this morning from Bear Valley, with
provisions. We are to start in two or three days, and cache our goods
here. They say the snow will remain until June."
This closes Patrick Breen's diary. Its record has always been considered
reliable. None of the statements made in this diary have ever been
controverted.
The Indian spoken of refused to be interviewed. To quote the language of
Mr. John Breen, "he did not seem to be at all curious as to how or
why there was a white man alone (as it must have seemed to him) in the
wilderness of snow." The Indian was trudging along with a heavy pack on
his back. As soon as he saw Mr. Breen, he halted and warned him with
a gesture not to approach. Taking from the pack a few of the fibrous
roots, he laid them on the snow, still cautioning with his hand not to
approach until he was well out of reach. As soon as the Indian was gone,
Mr. Breen went out and got the roots, which were very palatable. It is
probable that this was one of the band of Indians seen by Clark, Cady,
and Stone.
When Patty and Thomas Reed had been returned to the cabins by Aquila
Glover, they had been received by the Breen family, where they remained
all the time until their father came. The Breen cabin was the first
one at which Mr. Reed arrived. His meeting with his daughter is thus
described by Mr. Eddy, in Thornton's work: "At this camp Mr. Reed saw
his daughter Patty sitting on the top of the snow with which the cabin
was covered. Patty saw her father at some distance, and immediately
started to run and meet him, but such was her weakness that she fell.
Her father took her up, and the affectionate girl, bathed in tears,
embraced and kissed him, exclaiming: 'Oh, papa! I never expected to see
you again when the cruel people drove you out of camp. But I knew that
God was good, and would do what was best. Is dear mamma living? Is Mr.
Glover living? Did you know that he was a Mason? Oh, my dear papa, I
am so happy to see you. Masons must be good men. Is Mr. Glover the same
sort of Mason we had in Springfield? He promised mamma upon the word of
a Mason that he would bring me and Tommy out of the mountains.' Mr. Reed
told Patty that Masons were everywhere the same, and that he had met her
mother and Mr. Glover, and had relieved him from his pledge, and that
he himself had come to her and little Tommy to redeem that pledge and to
take out all that were able to travel."
The greatest precaution was taken to keep the suffering emigrants from
overeating. Cady, Stone, and Clark had distributed a small portion of
food to each of the famished beings. Patty Reed was intrusted with the
task of giving to each person a single biscuit. Taking the biscuits
in her apron she went in turn to each member of the company. Who shall
describe the rejoicings that were held over those biscuits? Several of
the survivors, in speaking of the subject, say that to their hungry eyes
these small pieces of bread assumed gigantic proportions. Never did the
largest loaves of bread look half so large. Patty Reed says that some of
the little girls cut their portions into thin slices, so as to eat them
slowly and enjoy them more completely.
The names of the members of this second relief party were James F.
Reed, Charles Cady, Charles Stone, Nicholas Clark, Joseph Jondro, Mathew
Dofar, John Turner, Hiram Miller, Wm. McCutchen, and Brit. Greenwood.
A portion of the party went to the Donner tents, and the remainder
assisted the emigrants in preparing to start over the mountains. The
distress and suffering at each camp was extreme. Even after the children
had received as much food as was prudent, it is said they would stretch
out their little arms and with cries and tears beg for something to
eat. Mrs. Murphy informed Mr. Reed that some of the children had been
confined to their beds for fourteen days. It was clearly to be seen that
very few of the sufferers could cross the Sierra without being almost
carried. They were too weak and helpless to walk. The threatening
appearance of the weather and the short supply of provisions urged the
party to hasten their departure, and it was quickly decided who should
go, and who remain. Those who started from Donner Lake on the third
of March with Mr. Reed and his party were Patrick Breen, Mrs. Margaret
Breen, John Breen, Patrick Breen, Jr., James F. Breen, Peter Breen, and
Isabella M. Breen, Patty Reed and Thomas Reed, Isaac Donner and Mary
M. Donner, Solomon Hook, Mrs. Elizabeth Graves, Nancy Graves, Jonathan
Graves, Franklin Graves, and Elizabeth Graves, Jr. Many of the younger
members of this party had to be carried. All were very much weakened and
emaciated, and it was evident that the journey over the mountains would
be slow and painful. In case a storm should occur on the summits, it was
fearfully apparent that the trip would be exceedingly perilous.
Reed's party encamped the first night near the upper end of Donner Lake.
They had scarcely traveled three miles. Upon starting from the Graves
cabin, Mrs. Graves had taken with her a considerable sum of money. This
money, Mr. McCutchen says, had been ingeniously concealed in auger holes
bored in cleats nailed to the bed of the wagon. These cleats, as W. C.
Graves informs us, were ostensibly placed in the wagon-bed to support a
table carried in the back part of the wagon. On the under side of these
cleats, however, were the auger-holes, carefully filled with coin. The
sum is variously stated at from three to five hundred dollars. At the
camping-ground, near the upper end of Donner Lake, one of the relief
party jokingly proposed to another to play a game of euchre to see who
should have Mrs. Graves' money. The next morning, Mrs. Graves remained
behind when the party started, and concealed her money. All that is
known is, that she buried it behind a large rock on the north side of
Donner Lake. So far as is known, this money has never been recovered,
but still lies hidden where it was placed by Mrs. Graves.