Disastrous news from the south
Return of Colonel Fremont to Monterey
Call for volunteers
Volunteer our services
Leave New Helvetia
Swimming the Sacramento
First fall of rain
Beautiful and romantic valley
Precipitous mountains
Deserted house
Arable land of California
Fattening qualities of the acorn
Lost in the Coast Mountains
Strange Indians
Indian women gathering grass-seed for bread
Indian guide
Laguna
Rough dialogue
Hunters' camp
"Old Greenwood"
Grisly bear meat
Greenwood's account of himself
His opinion of the Indians and Spaniards
Retrace our steps
Severe storm
Nappa valley
Arrive at Sonoma
More rain
Arrive at San Francisco
Return to New Helvetia.
I remained at the fort from the 27th to the 30th of October. On the
28th, Mr. Reed, whom I have before mentioned as belonging to the rear
emigrating party, arrived here. He left his party on Mary's River, and
in company with one man crossed the desert and the mountains. He was
several days without provisions, and, when he arrived at Johnson's, was
so much emaciated and exhausted by fatigue and famine, that he could
scarcely walk. His object was to procure provisions immediately, and to
transport them with pack-mules over the mountains for the relief of the
suffering emigrants behind. He had lost all of his cattle, and had been
compelled to _cache_ two of his wagons and most of his property.
Captain Sutter generously furnished the requisite quantity of mules and
horses, with Indian vaqueros, and jerked meat and flour. This is the
second expedition for the relief of the emigrants he has fitted out
since our arrival in the country. Ex-governor Boggs and family reached
Sutter's Fort to-day.
On the evening of the 28th, a courier arrived with letters from Colonel
Fremont, now at Monterey. The substance of the intelligence received by
the courier was, that a large force of Californians (varying, according
to different reports, from five to fifteen hundred strong) had met the
marines and sailors, four hundred strong, under the command of Captain
Mervine, of the U.S. frigate Savannah, who had landed at San Pedro for
the purpose of marching to Los Angeles, and had driven Captain Mervine
and his force back to the ship, with the loss, in killed, of six men.
That the towns of Angeles and Santa Barbara had been taken by the
insurgents, and the American garrisons there had either been captured
or had made their escape by retreating. What had become of them was
unknown.[2] Colonel Fremont, who I before mentioned had sailed with a
party of one hundred and eighty volunteers from San Francisco to San
Pedro, or San Diego, for the purpose of co-operating with Commodore
Stockton, after having been some time at sea, had put into Monterey and
landed his men, and his purpose now was to increase his force and mount
them, and to proceed by land for Los Angeles.
[2] The garrison under Captain Gillespie, at Los Angeles, capitulated.
The garrison at Santa Barbara, under Lieutenant Talbot, marched
out in defiance of the enemy, and after suffering many hardships
arrived in safety at Monterey.
On the receipt of this intelligence, I immediately drew up a paper,
which was signed by myself, Messrs Reed, Jacob, Lippincott, and
Grayson, offering our services as volunteers, and our exertions to
raise a force of emigrants and Indians which would be a sufficient
reinforcement to Colonel Fremont. This paper was addressed to Mr. Kern,
the commandant of Fort Sacramento, and required his sanction. The next
morning (29th) he accepted of our proposal, and the labour of raising
the volunteers and of procuring the necessary clothing and supplies for
them and the Indians was apportioned.
It commenced raining on the night of the twenty-eighth, and the rain
fell heavily and steadily until twelve o'clock, P.M., on the
twenty-ninth. This is the first fall of rain since March last. About
one o'clock, P.M., the clouds cleared away and the weather and
temperature were delightful.
About twelve o'clock, on the 30th, accompanied by Mr. Grayson, I left
New Helvetia. We crossed the Sacramento at the _embarcadero_, swimming
our horses, and passing ourselves over in a small canoe. The method of
swimming horses over so broad a stream as the Sacramento is as follows.
A light canoe or "dug-out" is manned by three persons, one at the bow
one at the stern and one in the centre; those at the bow and stern have
paddles, and propel and steer the craft. The man in the centre holds
the horses one on each side, keeping their heads out of water. When the
horses are first forced into the deep water, they struggle
prodigiously, and sometimes upset the canoe; but, when the canoe gets
fairly under way, they cease their resistance, but snort loudly at
every breath to clear their mouths and nostrils of the water.
Proceeding ten miles over a level plain, we overtook a company of
emigrants bound for Nappa valley, and encamped with them for the night
on Puta creek, a tributary of the Sacramento. Five of the seven or
eight men belonging to the company enrolled their names as volunteers.
The grass on the western side of the Sacramento is very rank and of an
excellent quality.
It commenced raining about two o'clock on the morning of the 31st, and
continued to rain and mist all day. We crossed from Puta to Cache
creek, reaching the residence of Mr. Gordon (25 miles) about three
o'clock P.M. Here we enrolled several additional emigrants in our list
of volunteers, and then travelled fifteen miles up the creek to a small
log-house, occupied temporarily by some of the younger members of the
family of Mr. Gordon, who emigrated from Jackson county, Mo., this
year, and by Mrs. Grayson. Here we remained during the night, glad to
find a shelter and a fire, for we were drenched to our skins.
On the morning of the 1st of November the sun shone out warm and
pleasant. The birds were singing, chattering, and flitting from tree to
tree, through the romantic and picturesque valley where we had slept
during the night. The scenery and its adjuncts were so charming and
enticing that I recommenced my travels with reluctance. No scenery can
be more beautiful than that of the small valleys of California.
Ascending the range of elevated mountains which border the Cache creek,
we had a most extensive view of the broad plain of the Sacramento,
stretching with islands and bells of limber far away to the south as
the eye could penetrate. The gorges and summits of these mountains are
timbered with largo pines, firs, and cedars, with a smaller growth of
magnolias, manzanitas, hawthorns, etc., etc. Travelling several miles
over a level plateau, we descended into a beautiful valley, richly
carpeted with grass and timbered with evergreen oak. Proceeding across
this three or four miles, we rose another range of mountains, and,
travelling a league along the summit ridge, we descended through a
crevice in a sleep rocky precipice, just sufficient in breadth to admit
the passage of our animals. Our horses were frequently compelled to
slide or leap down nearly perpendicular rocks or stairs, until we
finally, just after sunset, reached the bottom of the mountain, and
found ourselves in another level and most fertile and picturesque
valley.
We knew that in this valley, of considerable extent, there was a house
known as "Barnett's," where we expected to find quarters for the night.
There were numerous trails of cattle, horses, deer, and other wild
animals, crossing each other in every direction through the live
oak-timber. We followed on the largest of the cattle trails until it
became so blind that we could not see it. Taking another, we did the
same, and the result was the same; another and another with no better
success. We then shouted so loud that our voices were echoed and
re-echoed by the surrounding mountains, hoping, if there were any
inhabitants in the valley, that they would respond to us. There was no
response--all was silent when the sound of our voices died away in the
gorges and ravines; and at ten o'clock at night we encamped under the
wide-spreading branches of an oak, having travelled about 40 miles.
Striking a fire and heaping upon it a large quantity of wood, which
blazed brightly, displaying the Gothic shapes of the surrounding oaks,
we picketed our animals, spread our blankets, and slept soundly.
It rained several hours during the night, and in the morning a dense
fog filled the valley. Saddling our animals, we searched along the foot
of the next range of mountains for a trail, but could find none.
Returning to our camp, we proceeded up the valley, and struck a trail,
by following which two miles, we came to the house (Barnett's). The
door was ajar, and entering the dwelling we found it tenantless. The
hearth was cold, and the ashes in the jambs of the large fire-place
were baked. In the corners of the building there were some frames, upon
which beds had been once spread. The house evidently had been abandoned
by its former occupants for some time. The prolific mothers of several
families of the swinish species, with their squealing progenies,
gathered around us, in full expectation, doubtless, of the dispensation
of an extra ration, which we had not to give. Having eaten nothing but
a crust of bread for 24 hours, the inclination of our appetites was
strong to draw upon them for a ration; but for old acquaintance' sake,
and because they were the foreshadowing of the "manifest destiny," they
were permitted to pass without molestation. There were two or three
small inclosures near the house, where corn and wheat had been planted
and harvested this year; but none of the product of the harvest could
be found in the empty house, or on the place. Dismounting from our
horses at a limpid spring-branch near the house, we slaked our thirst,
and made our hydropathical breakfast from its cool and delicious water.
Although the trail of the valley did not run in our course, still,
under the expectation that it would soon take another direction, we
followed it, passing over a fertile soil, sufficiently timbered and
watered by several small streams. The quantity of arable land in
California, I believe, is much greater than has generally been supposed
from the accounts of the country given by travellers who have visited
only the parts on the Pacific, and some few of the missions. Most of
the mountain valleys between the Sierra Nevada and the coast are
exuberantly fertile, and finely watered, and will produce crops of all
kinds, while the hills are covered with oats and grass of the most
nutritious qualities, for the sustenance of cattle, horses, and hogs.
The acorns which fall from the oaks are, of themselves, a rich annual
product for the fattening of hogs; and during the period of transition
(four or five weeks after the rains commence falling) from the dry
grass to the fresh growth, horses, mules, and even horned cattle mostly
subsist and fatten upon these large and oleaginous nuts.
We left the valley in a warm and genial sunshine, about 11 o'clock, and
commenced ascending another high mountain, timbered as those I have
previously described. When we reached the summit, we were enveloped in
clouds, and the rain was falling copiously, and a wintry blast drove
the cold element to our skins. Crossing this mountain three or four
miles, we descended its sleep sides, and entered another beautiful and
romantic hollow, divided as it were into various apartments by short
ranges of low conical hills, covered to their summits with grass and
wild oats. The grass and other vegetation on the level bottom are very
rank, indicating a soil of the most prolific qualities. In winding
through this valley, we met four Indians on foot, armed with long bows,
and arrows of corresponding weight and length, weapons that I have not
previously seen among the Indians. Their complexions were lighter than
those of the _rancheria_ Indians of California. They evidently belonged
to some more northern tribe. We stopped them to make inquiries, but
they seemed to know nothing of the country, nor could we learn from
them from whence they came or where they were going. They were clothed
in dressed skins, and two of them were highly rouged.
Ascending and descending gradually over some low hills, we entered
another circular valley, through which flows a stream, the waters of
which, judging from its channel, at certain seasons are broad and deep.
The ground, from the rains that have recently fallen and are now
falling, is very soft, and we had difficulty in urging our tired
animals across this valley. We soon discovered fresh cattle signs, and
afterwards a large herd grazing near the stream. Farther on, we saw
five old and miserably emaciated Indian women, gathering grass-seed for
bread. This process is performed with two baskets, one shaped like a
round shield, and the other having a basin and handle. With the shield
the lop of the grass is brushed, and the seed by the motion is thrown
into the deep basket held in the other hand. The five women appeared at
a distance like so many mowers cutting down the grass of a meadow.
These women could give us no satisfaction in response to inquiries, but
pointed over the river indicating that we should there find the _casa_
and _rancheria_. They then continued their work with as much zeal and
industry as if their lives were dependent upon the proceeds of their
labour, and I suppose they were.
Crossing the river, we struck a trail which led us to the _casa_ and
_rancheria_, about two miles distant. The _casa_ was a small adobe
building, about twelve feet square, and was locked up. Finding that
admission was not to be gained here, we hailed at the _rancheria_, and
presently some dozen squalid and naked men, women, and children, made
their appearance. We inquired for the _mayor domo_, or overseer. The
chief speaker signified that he was absent, and that he did not expect
hint to return until several suns rose and set. We then signified we
were hungry, and very soon a loaf made of pulverized acorns, mingled
with wild fruit of some kind, was brought to us with a basket of water.
These Indians manufacture small baskets which are impervious to water,
and they are used as basins to drink from, and for other purposes.
I knew that we had been travelling out of our course all day, and it
was now three o'clock, P.M. Rain and mist had succeeded each other, and
the sun was hidden from us by dark and threatening masses of clouds. We
had no compass with us, and could not determine the course to Nappa
Valley or Sonoma. Believing that the Indian would have some knowledge
of the latter place, we made him comprehend that we wished to go there,
and inquired the route. He pointed in a direction which he signified
would take us to Sonoma. We pointed in another course, which it seemed
to us was the right one. But he persisted in asserting that he was
right. After some further talk, for the shirt on my back he promised to
guide us, and, placing a ragged skin on one of our horses, he mounted
the animal and led the way over the next range of hills. The rain soon
poured down so hard upon the poor fellow's bare skin, that he begged
permission to return, to which we would not consent; but, out of
compassion to him, I took off my over-coat, with which he covered his
swarthy hide, and seemed highly delighted with the shelter from the
pitiless storm it afforded him, or with the supposition that I intended
to present it to him.
Crossing several elevated and rocky hills, just before sunset, we had a
view of a large timbered valley and a sheet of water, the extent of
which we could not compass with the eye, on account of the thickness of
the atmosphere. When we came in sight of the water, the Indian uttered
various exclamations of pleasure; and, although I had felt but little
faith in him as a pilot from the first, I began now to think that we
were approaching the Bay of San Francisco. Descending into the valley,
we travelled along a small stream two or three miles, and were
continuing on in the twilight, when we heard the tinkling of a cow-bell
on the opposite side of the stream. Certain, from this sound, that
there must be an encampment near, I halted and hallooed at the top of
my voice. The halloo called forth a similar response, with an
interrogation in English, "Who the d----l are you--Spaniards or
Americans?" "Americans." "Show yourselves, then, d----n you, and let us
see the colour of your hide," was the answer.
"Tell us where we can cross the stream, and you shall soon see us," was
our reply.
"Ride back and follow the sound of my voice, and be d----d to you, and
you can cross the stream with a deer's jump."
Accordingly, following the sound of the voice of this rough colloquist,
who shouted repeatedly, we rode back in the dark several hundred yards,
and, plunging into the stream, the channel of which was deep, we gained
the other side, where we found three men standing ready to receive us.
We soon discovered them to be a party of professional hunters, or
trappers, at the head of which was Mr. Greenwood, a famed mountaineer,
commonly known as "Old Greenwood." They invited us to their camp,
situated across a small opening in the timber about half a mile
distant. Having unsaddled our tired animals and turned them loose to
graze for the night, we placed our baggage under the cover of a small
tent, and, taking our seats by the huge camp fire, made known as far as
was expedient our business. We soon ascertained that we had ridden the
entire day (about 40 miles) directly out of our course to Nappa Valley
and Sonoma, and that the Indian's information was all wrong. We were
now near the shore of a large lake, called the _Laguna_ by
Californians, some fifty or sixty miles in length, which lake is
situated about sixty or seventy miles north of the Bay of San
Francisco; consequently, to-morrow we shall be compelled to retrace our
steps and find the trail that leads from Harriett's house to Nappa,
which escaped us this morning. We received such directions, however,
from Mr. Greenwood, that we could not fail to find it.
We found in the camp, much to our gratification after a long fast, an
abundance of fat grisly bear-meat and the most delicious and tender
deer-meat. The camp looked like a butcher's stall. The pot filled with
bear-flesh was boiled again and again, and the choice pieces of the
tender venison were roasting, and disappearing with singular rapidity
for a long time. Bread there was none of course. Such a delicacy is
unknown to the mountain trappers, nor is it much desired by them.
The hunting party consisted of Mr. Greenwood, Mr. Turner, Mr. Adams,
and three sons of Mr. G., one grown, and the other two boys 10 or 12
years of age, half-bred Indians, the mother being a Crow. One of these
boys is named "Governor Boggs," after ex-governor Boggs of Missouri, an
old friend of the father. Mr. Greenwood, or "Old Greenwood," as he is
familiarly called, according to his own statement, is 83 years of age,
and has been a mountain trapper between 40 and 50 years. He lived among
the Crow Indians, where he married his wife, between thirty and forty
years. He is about six feet in height, raw-boned and spare in flesh,
but muscular, and, notwithstanding his old age, walks with all the
erectness and elasticity of youth. His dress was of tanned buckskin,
and from its appearance one would suppose its antiquity to be nearly
equal to the age of its wearer. It had probably never been off his body
since he first put it on. "I am," said he, "an old man--eighty-three
years--it is a long time to live;--eighty-three years last--. I have
seen all the Injun varmints of the Rocky Mountains,--have fout
them--lived with them. I have many children--I don't know how many,
they are scattered; but my wife was a Crow. The Crows are a brave
nation,--the bravest of all the Injuns; they fight like the white man;
they don't kill you in the dark like the Black-foot varmint, and then
take your scalp and run, the cowardly reptiles. Eighty-three years
last----; and yet old Greenwood could handle the rifle as well as the
best on 'em, but for this infernal humour in my eyes, caught three
years ago in bringing the emigrators over the _de_-sart." (A circle of
scarlet surrounded his weeping eyeballs.) "I can't see jist now as well
as I did fifty years ago, but I can always bring the game or the
slinking and skulking Injun. I have jist come over the mountains from
Sweetwater with the emigrators as pilot, living upon bacon, bread,
milk, and sich like mushy stuff. It don't agree with me; it never will
agree with a man of my age, eighty-three last ----; that is a long time
to live. I thought I would take a small hunt to get a little exercise
for my old bones, and some good fresh meat. The grisly bear, fat deer,
and poultry and fish--them are such things as a man should eat. I came
up here, where I knew there was plenty. I was here twenty years ago,
before any white man see this lake and the rich land about it. It's
filled with big fish. That's beer-springs here, better than them in the
Rocky Mountains; thar's a mountain of solid brimstone, and thar's mines
of gold and silver, all of which I know'd many years ago, and I can
show them to you if you will go with me in the morning. These
black-skinned Spaniards have rebelled again. Wall, they can make a
fuss, d--m 'em, and have revolutions every year, but they can't fight.
It's no use to go after 'em, unless when you ketch 'em you kill 'em.
They won't stand an' fight like men, an' when they can't fight longer
give up; but the skared varmints run away and then make another fuss,
d--m 'em." Such was the discourse of our host.
The camp consisted of two small tents, which had probably been obtained
from the emigrants. They were pitched so as to face each other, and
between them there was a large pile of blazing logs. On the trees
surrounding the camp were stretched the skins of various animals which
had been killed in the hunt; some preserved for their hides, others for
the fur. Bear-meat and venison enough for a winter's supply were
hanging from the limbs. The swearing of Turner, a man of immense frame
and muscular power, during our evening's conversation, was almost
terrific. I had heard mountain swearing before, but his went far beyond
all former examples. He could do all the swearing for our army in
Mexico, and then have a surplus.
The next morning (Nov. 3rd), after partaking of a hearty breakfast, and
suspending from our saddles a sufficient supply of venison and
bear-meat for two days' journey, we started back on our own trail. We
left our miserable Indian pilot at his _rancheria_. I gave him the
shirt from my back, out of compassion for his sufferings--he well
deserved a _dressing_ of another kind. It rained all day, and, when we
reached Barnett's (the empty house) after four o'clock, P.M., the black
masses of clouds which hung over the valley portended a storm so
furious, that we thought it prudent to take shelter under a roof for
the night. Securing our animals in one of the inclosures, we encamped
in the deserted dwelling. The storm soon commenced, and raged and
roared with a fierceness and strength rarely witnessed. The hogs and
pigs came squealing about the door for admission; and the cattle and
horses in the valley, terrified by the violence of elemental battle,
ran backwards and forwards, bellowing and snorting. In comfortable
quarters, we roasted and enjoyed our bear-meat and venison, and left
the wind, rain, lightning, and thunder to play their pranks as best
suited them, which they did all night.
On the morning of the fourth, we found the trail described to us by Mr.
Greenwood, and, crossing a ridge of mountains, descended into the
valley of Nappa creek, which empties into the Bay of San Francisco just
below the Straits of Carquinez. This is a most beautiful and fertile
valley, and is already occupied by several American settlers. Among the
first who established themselves here is Mr. Yount, who soon after
erected a flouring-mill and saw-mill. These have been in operation
several years. Before reaching Mr. Yount's settlement we passed a
saw-mill more recently erected, by Dr. Bale. There seems to be an
abundance of pine and red-wood (a species of fir), in the _canadas_. No
lumber can be superior for building purposes than that sawed from the
red-wood. The trees are of immense size, straight, free from knots and
twists, and the wood is soft, and easily cut with plane and saw.
Arriving at the residence of Dr. Bale, in Nappa Valley, we were
hospitably entertained by him with a late breakfast of coffee, boiled
eggs, steaks, and _tortillas_, served up in American style. Leaving
Nappa, after travelling down it some ten or twelve miles, we crossed
another range of hills or mountains, and reached Sonoma after dark, our
clothing thoroughly drenched with the rain, which, with intermissions,
had fallen the whole day. I put up at the same quarters as when here
before. The house was covered with a dilapidated thatch, and the rain
dripped through it, not leaving a dry spot on the floor of the room
where we slept. But there was an advantage in this--the inundation of
water had completely discomfited the army of fleas that infested the
building when we were here before.
It rained incessantly on the fifth. Col. Russell arrived at Sonoma
early in the morning, having arrived from San Francisco last night.
Procuring a boat belonging to Messrs. Howard and Mellus, lying at the
_embarcadero_, I left for San Francisco, but, owing to the storm and
contrary winds, did not arrive there until the morning of the seventh,
being two nights and a day in the creek, and _churning_ on the bay.
Purchasing a quantity of clothing, and other supplies for volunteers, I
sailed early on the morning of the eighth for New Helvetia, in a boat
belonging to the sloop-of-war Portsmouth, manned by U.S. sailors, under
the command of Midshipman Byres, a native of Maysville, Ky. We encamped
that night at the head of "Soeson," having sailed about fifty miles in
a severe storm of wind and rain. The waves frequently dashed entirely
over our little craft. The rain continued during the ninth, and we
encamped at night about the mouth of the Sacramento. On the night of
the tenth we encamped at "Meritt's camp," the rain still falling, and
the river rising rapidly, rendering navigation up-stream impossible,
except with the aid of the tide. On the night of the eleventh we
encamped fifteen miles below New Helvetia, still raining. On the
morning of the twelfth the clouds cleared away, and the sun burst out
warm and spring-like. After having been exposed to the rain for ten or
twelve days, without having the clothing upon me once dry, the sight of
the sun, and the influence of his beams, were cheering and most
agreeable. We arrived at New Helvetia about twelve o'clock.