THE ILLUSION OF “GOLD LAKE.”
Many of the miners lost a whole season’s labor, and had no more than
they had the fall previous. In the early part of the season there was
quite an excitement at Marysville, and at the mines on Feather River,
known as the “Gold Lake” excitement.
This was caused by a man who told in some respects a very plausible
story or yarn. He said he had been a long distance east into the Sierra
Nevada mountains, where he had made the discovery of a lake where gold
was so plentiful that it could be gathered in almost unlimited
quantities.
He also said he was there at the lake for only a few days and that he
had gathered more than he could carry, and had secreted it.
Many believed his story to be all true, and the result was that quite a
large company was gathered and went away back into the mountains and
camped. Gold Lake was searched for but could not be found. It was said
that after getting back into the mountains the Gold Lake leader appeared
to be insane.
The result of the expedition was the discovery of Nelson’s Creek mines
on a stream emptying into the middle fork of Feather River, some 90
miles or more in the mountains.
Hearing of this discovery, which was said to be very rich, I concluded
to go and take my chances. This was before we had built our dam on the
old claim. Alden J. Nutting went with me, as I remember. We traveled up
there on foot, and in those days in California every one carried his
blankets, if nothing more. When we arrived at Nelson’s creek, we found a
large number of people already there, provisions scarce and high, and
although there were some very good mines, they did not appear to be very
extensive or lasting. We made a prospecting tour farther east among the
mountains for two or three days, but as we found no gold in paying
quantities, we soon after returned to the valley.
After we had abandoned our claim on the middle fork, I concluded to go
to Nelson’s Creek again. I started from Marysville and traveled up there
the second time. This was in August, and yet at one place we traveled
over a snow bank which we estimated was 25 feet deep. After arriving
there in company with one or two others, I selected a claim on the
middle fork of Feather River, a short distance below the mouth of
Nelson’s Creek, where the stream could be turned by a dam. We thought
there was a possibility that the river bed might be rich, and we
concluded to construct a small wing dam sufficient to test it. We put in
the dam so as to throw the water from a small portion of the river’s
bed. The claim proved as worthless as our first one.
I then traveled up Nelson’s Creek two or three miles and hired myself to
a company who had turned the creek from its course and was working out
its bed.
This was paying fairly well. If I remember correctly I was to have ten
dollars per day and board. The next camp below ours on the creek was
about 80 rods distant, where three men were at work. They were all from
Vergennes, Vermont, and were neighbors before they left home. They had a
paying claim and were doing well. As the stream between the two camps
passed through a small canyon, the trail was a rough one.
One Saturday night, about twelve o’clock, one of these men came running
up to our camp very much excited and out of breath, saying his two
partners had been killed. His version of the matter was that, as they
all lay asleep, two or three men had killed his two companions with a
hatchet while they slept, and that he was awakened by the noise of the
blows, to discover a man with a hatchet raised over his head, just in
the act of striking him the fatal blow. He had jumped to his feet and
run for his life. He had heard someone running after him, but from the
sound he thought his pursuer had fallen, and after that ceased to follow
him.
We immediately went to the stricken camp, but could do nothing that
night. The next morning we went down and found the two men in the creek.
We took them out and found their heads cut to pieces, and also found the
hatchet in the creek that was used by the murderers. The men were said
to have had a considerable quantity of gold, which they kept under their
heads. The gold could not be found.
We rolled the murdered men in their blankets as well as we could and
buried them on the side of the mountain.
It would perhaps be natural for some to suspect the survivor of the
three men as being the guilty murderer of the other two, and that seemed
to be the case to some extent, especially by those who knew but little
of the circumstances, while all those that were present when the
murdered men were found and buried, were of the opinion that he was
innocent of the crime.
On the next Sunday, one week after the two dead men were found and
buried, quite a company of men came into our camp, all being strangers.
Soon after they began to inquire in relation to the circumstances
accompanying the murders, and all such circumstances and conditions were
minutely gone into so far as was known.
After learning all that seemed to be possible to be known about the sad
matter, they quietly departed. We did not know their mission at the
time. Soon after we learned that they came from a small mining town, a
few miles distant. They heard of the murders, and of the circumstances
of the three men being camped together, two of whom were killed.
They had talked the matter over and discussed the circumstances
attending them, so far as they could learn them correctly at such a
distance, and at a public meeting. They had arrived at the conclusion
that the survivor of the three men was undoubtedly the murderer. The men
that came to our camp had been selected at the meeting for the purpose
of investigating the case, and to try the supposed murderer before Judge
Lynch, and if found guilty, execute him.
When they came over Sunday morning they supposed it would all be
completed and that they would return to their homes before night.
But after an investigation had been made by them, they came to the
conclusion that the companion who had made his escape was innocent.
At the time I left home for California in April, 1849, I was not in the
enjoyment of very good health. I was suffering somewhat from a cough,
and it distressed me to inhale a long breath. I did not feel strong and
robust. However, I had kept the matter a secret so far as was possible,
thinking that if my friends knew the conditions they would oppose my
going to California, and I was fully determined to go if possible and
take the consequences, whatever they might be.
This condition of my health continued in some degree for a considerable
length of time. While at Independence, Missouri, where we remained about
four weeks, my illness caused a pain in my side when I rode horseback.
The same was true after we had started on our journey over the plains.
It gradually wore away and long before we reached the Rocky Mountains,
my health seemed to be perfect.
It continued to be excellent during all the last part of the journey and
through the winter of 1849-50. I was more fleshy and of heavier weight
at that time than I had ever before been, or have been since. When
cutting wood at Yuba City I weighed more than 160 pounds, but during the
summer of 1850 I did not enjoy entirely uninterrupted good health.
Our work on Nelson’s Creek was very laborious. It lay in a mountain
gulch, deep down, where it was quite warm as long as the sun shone upon
us. I cannot at this time recall the exact length of time I worked
there,
[Illustration:
From an Old Print.
CUSTOM HOUSE ON THE PLAZA.]
but would say it was from two to three weeks. Whenever I labored in my
life, I always intended to keep up my end, or to perform my share of the
work. No fault was made known to me here.
However, I was not feeling as well as I could desire, especially toward
the close of my service there. Instead of feeling any improvement, I
grew steadily worse.
The last morning I went to my work I felt miserable, but thought I would
be able to overcome it, so I said nothing. I worked until noon when I
felt obliged to quit for the day.
There was at that camp a man by the name of Jewett, from some place in
Massachusetts, who the winter previous had stopped a while at the Pelham
camp. The tragic fate of the men so near our camp seemed to make Mr.
Jewett extremely nervous and timid. He seemed to be almost afraid of his
own shadow, and ever after the tragedy he was talking about going to the
valley, and from there to his home in New England. One obstacle to his
making an immediate start was that he lacked the courage to go alone.
Two or three days after I had quit work he found some parties that were
going to the valley, and as there was but two of them, he desired me to
go with them to enlarge the party, and as he seemed to believe, make it
safer.
I replied that as I was sick, probably I could not travel as fast as his
party would desire to go, but if I did not improve in health within a
few days, I thought I should go to the valley. I had no fear to travel
alone and would prefer to do so, as I could take my own time. He was
very urgent that I should go with him, and said as he had a pack horse,
he would carry my blankets and would make the journey as comfortable as
possible for me. I finally consented, almost against my better judgment.
This was near the last of August or the first of September.
We started on the morning of the next day after the arrangements had
been completed. His horse was at Onion Valley, about eight miles on our
way. From Nelson’s Creek up the mountain, about one and one-half miles,
it was very steep. That brought us to the top of the mountain. From
there we traveled to Onion Valley. There we took a little refreshments
and then packed the horse and started for Grass Valley, about 18 miles
distant.
Although the air on the mountain was cool, the morning was pleasant.
While in California I wore no coat. Shirts and pants were the clothing
worn, and during the rainy season when it was cooler we wore extra
flannel shirts. Blankets were much used instead of shirts when miners
were not at work. At that time I was dressed with a “Hickory” shirt and
thin pants, all cotton.
When we left Onion Valley my blankets were packed on the horse, as I
didn’t expect to need them on the road while walking.
Soon after we left Onion Valley it commenced raining, which soon after
turned into a wet snow. This melted nearly as fast as it fell, and being
thinly clad as I was, I was soon wet to the skin and very cold and
uncomfortable. I thought that if I could only get my blankets out of the
pack to put over my shoulders it would be much more comfortable, and
perhaps better for the health of a sick man.
I spoke to Mr. Jewett about it and he replied that he couldn’t get at
the blankets without unpacking the horse, and that he thought I could
get along without them. I said no more about the matter. We at length
arrived at Grass Valley, thoroughly drenched and almost exhausted.
While Mr. Jewett and his party were pitching the tent for the night, I
went into a cloth eating house and seated myself on a board before a
small fire burning on the ground. After being seated there for some time
I felt very faint. I could see nothing for several minutes and
everything looked black. I said nothing but kept my seat, which was near
the table. I soon recovered from the faintness and became partially
warm.
Supper was at length announced, but I did not desire to leave my seat,
neither did I feel like eating anything. I turned and faced the table,
ate a small piece of a cracker and drank a little tea, paid two dollars
for supper, and again faced the fire.
When it was nearly night I went over a short distance to Mr. Jewett’s
camp. He said I had the scurvy, but I didn’t think so. He wanted me to
get some potatoes and eat them raw, scraped in vinegar. He urged the
matter so persistently that I bought a pound of small potatoes, for
which I paid one dollar and a half, scraped some of them into vinegar
and made an effort to take them as medicine. It was too much like an
emetic for me. I threw away those I had prepared, gave the balance to
Mr. Jewett, and told him that rather than eat raw potatoes I would take
my chances with the scurvy. But, in fact, I did not believe I had the
scurvy, and later I was thoroughly convinced that I did not have it. Mr.
Jewett was very timid that night and very nervous.
Each one of the small party had some kind of firearms. I had a double
barrel shotgun, which was loaded with buckshot, but during the rain it
had become wet through so that it was impossible to discharge it without
giving it a thorough cleaning and drying. He desired me to put it in
thorough order and reload it. I told him I would not do it, that I was
about to lie down and make myself as comfortable as possible.
He said we were all liable to be murdered before morning. I said to him
that I felt no fear of it, and that I was willing to take the risk. The
night passed quietly away, and the next morning I felt slightly rested,
but no better otherwise. I had no appetite and was quite weak.
After Mr. Jewett and his party had eaten their breakfast, they packed up
and started for the next camp, which was twelve or thirteen miles
distant.
We soon fell in with another small party that was traveling the same
way, and Jewett was very much pleased to have their company.
I could not travel as fast as the party, and falling behind I traveled
alone nearly the entire distance. When I arrived at the camp I was
nearly exhausted. I did not at that time look for Jewett and his party.
They were preparing or eating their dinners a short distance away. But I
found my blankets where he unpacked his horse, and I lay down upon them
under a tree and soon fell asleep.
Not long after, I was awakened by Mr. Jewett, who said he wanted my
blankets to be packed. I told him he couldn’t have them any more, as I
was going no farther that day. He inquired the reason, and I said I
could go no farther until I had some rest. He asked me if I was sick,
and I asked him if he had just learned the fact. I had supposed he knew
it before we started, when he promised to be so kind to me if I would go
with him. He desired that I would permit him to take my gun with him,
and promised to leave it at the Pelham camp. I was glad to have him do
this as it would release me of that much load, and I was no more afraid
to travel there in the mountains unarmed at that time than I now fear to
travel the streets of Nashua in broad daylight.
This was the last I saw of Mr. Jewett. I afterwards learned that he went
to the Pelham camp, where he made a short stay. He soon after went to
San Francisco and started for home, as I remember, by way of Mexico, but
it was said he never reached his home. What his fate was I never knew.
It seemed very certain that his cowardice was a much more prominent
trait in his character than his hospitality. I remained over at the
place during that afternoon and night, and the next day and night. I
felt somewhat rested, but did not improve much in other respects. I
didn’t quite enjoy the place and thought I would try to make a little
progress toward the valley.
There were two or three stopping places on the road within eight or nine
miles, one of which was Strawberry Valley. I believe the first one was
about three miles distant. I settled my bill and started in the morning,
traveling leisurely and reached the first station, where I rested a
while. I then went to the next and also to the third. I had then made
about nine miles in all. Here I rested again, and at first thought I
would remain until the next day, the next stopping place being twelve
miles distant. As I didn’t just fancy this place, I concluded to start
for the next station, and should I become exhausted before reaching it I
could lie down with my blankets for the night by the side of the road in
the dense woods. These mountains were very heavily timbered.
I reached the place near night but I was very tired. This “ranch”
consisted of a cloth house, which contained a “bar,” table, a cooking
stove, with some other furnishings. Near by was a large tent in which
travelers could sleep upon the ground by paying two dollars for the
privilege.
I was glad to avail myself of even this meagre benefit, but I awoke
during the night suffering excruciating pains in my body and limbs. I
tried in vain to rise and stand upon my feet. I believe I never suffered
more severe pains than during that night. The next forenoon I succeeded,
after long and laborious efforts, to get upon my feet and move about a
little.
I remained here four or five days and had mended somewhat, so I was
contemplating resuming my journey, when I was surprised to see an old
acquaintance enter the tent. His name was George Carlton and he was from
Pelham, N. H., a man of somewhat rough manners but with a kind heart. He
was as glad to see me as I was him. It seemed that Jewett had informed
the party at Pelham camp of the fact that he had left me in the
mountains sick. There was no Jewett about Mr. Carlton. The following
morning, seeing that he was making preparations to leave, some one asked
him where he was intending to go. He replied that he was going into the
mountains to see if he could locate Webster. Some one of the company
(one of the Pelham men, I will not mention his name) said he did not
believe it to be wise for them to take into camp any more invalids. Mr.
Carlton made the reply that they had learned that Webster was reported
sick in the mountains, and that he was about to make an effort to find
him, and that if he was dead he would bury him, but if found alive, he
would bring him into camp. He started on foot and alone. At a station
below the place where he found me, he observed a mule straying about the
woods. It was a small animal, thin and of but little value. Mr. Carlton
gave the proprietor the circumstances, and he said he did not apprehend
that any owner would appear for the mule, and that he could take it if
he desired to do so. He led the mule as he had no saddle, and the little
brute was scarcely fit for a saddle animal. It was in the forenoon of
his second day out that Mr. Carlton found me. I bought a saddle from the
proprietor of the place, and we started for the Pelham camp. I rode the
little mule. We reached camp the next evening. Dr. Batchelder prescribed
some medicine for me, which I believe was the only time I employed a
physician during my stay in California.
I remained with my Pelham friends five or six days, improving in health
quite rapidly.