Upon arriving in the harbor of Panama, we came to an anchor about two
miles from the city. Ships scarcely ever go nearer on account of rocks.
It is not a very good harbor for vessels to lie in with safety, it is so
open. At anchor close by us was the ship Marianna, of San Francisco,
Captain Rossiter. He recognized my husband as an old acquaintance,
invited us on board his ship, where he was enjoying the society of his
wife and an interesting little child. Captain Rossiter informed us he
was going to take his ship down to Taboga, an island which lies about
ten miles from Panama. The P. M. S. S. Co. have a depot there. All the
steamers, when in port, lie there. The shipping frequent this place to
get a supply of water, which gushes in clear rivulets down the sides of
the mountains. A little steamer plies constantly between Taboga and
Panama for the accommodation of passengers, who are constantly flocking
from the miasma-infected city of Panama, to inhale the health-breathing
zephyrs of this island retreat. The shore is very bold. Ships of the
largest tonnage lie within a stone’s throw of the shore. Nearly all the
washing is carried from the city, and here cleansed in the running
streams by the native women, and spread upon the bushes to dry. At this
time there were three hotels there, and quite a number of native
populace. Since the time I allude to, they have been visited by a
destructive fire. It has been rebuilt, however. We spent one happy week
here. Daily Mrs. Rossiter and myself wandered up and down the mountain’s
side, protected from the sun’s rays by the umbrageous foliage which
formed a complete net-work above our heads. Here grew the cocoa-nut and
pine-apple. The monkeys chattered and swung from branch to branch above
our heads. The parrot and paroquet screamed at us from their leafy
habitations. Birds of beautiful plumage were carolling their sweetest
notes, giving to these sylvan mountain-slopes a truly vivifying
appearance. Here, thought I, in company with loved ones, could I dream
away a happy existence. The impersonations of romance and solitude could
scarcely find a more congenial abode than this beautiful and sequestered
isle. At the expiration of this memory-treasured week, which was,
indeed, an oasis in the waste over which I had been wafted, we returned
to an anchor at Panama. That night I was suddenly and severely attacked
with what was conceded to be, by all, Panama fever of the most malignant
kind. The next day I was carried on shore, through the city, to a house
outside the city gates, owned by a gentleman from New Orleans. For the
use of one furnished room and board, the sum of forty dollars per week
was required. It was a large, barn-like dwelling. Nearly all the rooms
were rented to Spaniards. The partitions which divided the house into
apartments only extended to a height sufficient to conceal the occupants
from one another, without in the least obviating the noise and
disturbance naturally occurring from so many living under one roof.
Even this tenement, rough as it was, far exceeded, in point of
cleanliness and healthy location, the crowded, and at that time filthy,
hotels of the city. Ours was a corner room in the second story, fronting
the street. Large doors, very much resembling barn-doors, opened from
two sides of the room upon a balcony, that indispensable appendage to
all the dwellings situated in tropical climes. Every breath of air which
fanned my burning brow seemed wafted from a heated furnace. For days I
lay a victim to that consuming fever, part of the time in blissful
unconsciousness. I say blissful, because my thoughts wandered to my
distant home, and I was relieved, for the time being, from the agonizing
thoughts that in intervals of reason obtruded themselves upon me. I was
attended by no physician. Captain Rossiter administered dose after dose
of calomel, until my system was completely prostrated. Well was it for
me that my knowledge of the Spanish language was so limited; otherwise I
might have been shocked by the language of some of the inmates of the
house. Every footfall, every loud word, echoed and reverberated through
that hollow building, sending, at each recurrence, a pang of agony
through my burning brain. Fear, too, would assert her sway when left
alone, as I oftentimes was. For nearly two weeks the fever raged
incessantly; after which time, I gradually convalesced.
When raised by pillows in my bed, I had a view of the street leading to
the rear gates of the city, and day after day could I see the silent
dead borne to their last resting-place. At that time, Panama was crowded
with Americans waiting to be conveyed to the gold-studded placers of
California. Alas! many of the number never reached the goal they so
ardently desired, and for which they had sacrificed their own happiness,
and that of those dearer to them than aught else except gold, the yellow
dust of temptation. Truly it may be said to be “the root of all evil,”
when it allures thousands from their peaceful homes, to meet an untimely
death. Reflections such as these had a decided tendency to depress still
more my already despondent heart. My recovery, at times, was considered
doubtful. It was too sickly to entertain the idea of remaining there
longer than was absolutely necessary. I was too weak to attempt to cross
the Isthmus; therefore, all hope of returning home was abandoned.
It was decided to take passage at once for San Francisco. We remained
one month at Panama. During the last two or three days of our stay, I
walked a short distance each day. One of our walks we extended as far as
the burying-ground. What a shunned and desolate spot was that American
burial-ground at Panama,--a mere necessary receptacle of lifeless flesh
and crumbling bones,--not even a stone raised to mark the last
resting-place of the many loved friends who had breathed their last sigh
in a strange land, and by strangers been consigned to mother earth! A
little piece of board was sometimes reared, with the name, age, and
place of residence, marked thereon; but often this little mark of
respect and affection had been displaced by mules, numbers of which are
constantly grazing among the graves. No inclosure protects these often
nameless mounds; straggling bushes struggle with rank and choking weeds
that overtop them. The whole place bears a deserted, forsaken
aspect--untrodden by the feet of memory and love. It is within sight of
the bay, whose waters, as they eternally dash against the shore, seem to
be chanting a requiem for the departed. The evening before we left
Panama, our attention was attracted by what we conceived to be a
torch-light procession, issuing from the city gate. Upon a nearer
approach, it proved to be a funeral cortege. First came several
horsemen bearing torches; these were followed by a band of music,
playing very lively, heart-stirring strains; then came an open bier,
carried by natives, upon which was borne the lifeless remains of a sweet
little cherub, a lovely Spanish child--lovely even in death. It seemed
to be in a sitting posture. In each hand was placed a wax candle;
wreaths of flowers entwined its angelic brow, and were strewn in rich
profusion upon the bier. Innumerable wax tapers were inserted around the
outer edge of the bier, which shed an ethereal halo upon the little form
of clay, which had so recently been the pride and joy of fond parents.
Then followed another company of equestrians and pedestrians. It had the
appearance of some joyous festive scene rather than a funeral
procession. And, truly,
“Why should we mourn for the child early called
From the sin and the suffering of this darkened world?
Though ties of affection may early be riven,
Why wish back on earth the dear loved one in heaven?”
Oh, how I suffered, while at Panama, for a draught of cold water, to
allay that feverish, burning thirst which seemed to be consuming the
very life-blood in my veins! By the time they could get the clear, cool
water from the gurgling rivulets of Taboga to Panama, it would be tepid,
and I would turn from it in disgust. Often, in my hours of delirium,
would I fancy myself at home, travelling again the little school path. I
would arrive at the running brook which wandered through green meadows,
and was spanned by a rustic bridge, over which, for twelve happy years,
our little feet had skipped each day, on the way to and from school.
Then I would fancy myself leaning far over the grassy brink--so far, I
could touch my lips to the transparent surface, and imbibe draught after
draught of the sparkling liquid. Pleasing hallucination! too quickly
dispelled by returning reason. In my lucid moments, I was ever thinking
of the old well at home, and wishing for _one_ drink from the
“moss-covered bucket.” I felt it would save my life, when all else
should prove abortive. One who has never been prostrated by fever in a
burning tropical clime, when it was utterly impossible to obtain ice or
cool water, can scarcely conceive of the torture and agony endured.
Every breath of air is a simoom to the sufferer. My principal sustenance
was the banana and plantain.
We took passage in the steamer Republic for San Francisco. The price of
our tickets at that time were six hundred dollars. The Republic was
commanded by Captain William Hudson, a son of the commander of the
sloop-of-war Vincennes. He was a lieutenant in the navy, but was then
enjoying a furlough of four years, which he improved by taking charge of
the Republic.
I saw nothing of the city of Panama except what met the eye in passing
through its narrow streets,--more properly, lanes,--bounded on either
side by high, prison-looking buildings, with iron bars in lieu of
window-sashes. Plenty of naked natives, all eager to carry us on board
in their bungoes (boats),--a noisy, wrangling set they were,--assembled
there upon the beach. Immediately upon reaching the steamer, I repaired
to my state-room, and, in an exhausted state, was assisted into my
berth. I remained in this situation through all the hurry and bustle
incident to the departure of an ocean steamer, but then was fated to be
disturbed in a manner I little dreamed of. A lady came to the
state-room, and very unceremoniously demanded my berth, saying her
ticket, which she had purchased in New York, called for it. Here was a
dilemma! The ticket calling for that berth had been sold twice. Captain
Hudson was called to the rescue. He decided I should not be removed. He
had previously been informed of the series of accidents that had
befallen us on our eventful voyage, and declared, laughingly, that,
unless routed by fire, I should not be molested. He offered to provide
the lady from New York with another room; which she obstinately refused
to occupy, vehemently averring that she would lie upon the cabin-floor,
and prosecute the company for practising such duplicity. This threat she
put in execution upon her arrival at San Francisco, and received
compensation to the amount of several thousand dollars.
Upon getting out to sea, my recovery was visibly accelerated by the
invigorating sea-breezes and cheerful companionship of our
fellow-voyagers. I made many pleasant acquaintances, and formed
friendships which have endured to the present,--not the fashionable
friendship of an hour, which dishonor the name, but attachments that
have stood the test of adversity and misfortunes. The steamer Republic
had on board four hundred passengers. Thirty out of this number were
ladies,--the largest number which, at that time, had been taken on board
any one steamer to San Francisco. There were but very few of them
accompanied by their husbands; the remainder were going to meet their
liege lords, from whom they had been separated, some two years and
longer. It was very amusing to listen to the various conjectures
advanced as to the probability of their being recognizable, after being
for so long a time strangers to the hair-clipping propensity of the
razor. In those early days of California hair-producing memory, when the
passion for gold-hunting completely absorbed all other faculties, but
very little time or attention was expended upon their persons.
The steamer put into Acapulco to coal up. The harbor reminded me
somewhat of Port Stanley, although it is not quite so completely
land-locked. The natives swam off to the ship in numbers; while the
passengers amused themselves by throwing over pieces of money, which, as
it was sinking, they dove after, and obtained with surprising dexterity.
They appeared again upon the surface, in an incredibly short space of
time, with their dark countenances illumined by a grin, illustrative of
much delight, holding high the hand, and displaying the rescued coin.
Then they would deposit it quickly in their mouths, and be in readiness
for another dive. The most successful one was easily detected by his
protuberant cheeks. To deceive, one of the passengers threw over a
button. Upon discovering the deception practised, no enticement could
afterwards induce them to dive after what fell from his hand. Their
discriminating powers must be very acute to recollect the countenance of
that gentleman among so many strange faces. We remained nearly one day
at Acapulco, which most of the passengers improved by wandering through
the town and its suburbs.
Not having recovered my health sufficiently to endure a tiresome tramp,
I only saw that part of the town in immediate proximity to the harbor. I
was very favorably impressed, however. It was the cleanest, neatest,
most cheerful-looking Spanish town I had ever beheld. Shops of every
description met the eye, almost bewildering the senses with the
multifarious display. The cafés at every corner sent out a cheering
welcome to the olfactory organ; the bazaar was thronged with people
displaying fruit in all its stages, sufficient, if partaken of, to
prostrate the whole ship’s company; and the incomprehensible jargon of
the venders reminding one of (as some express it) “bedlam let loose.”
Sometimes one feels half inclined to purchase, if for nought else than
to win one of those irresistible smiles from the señorita in attendance.
Upon entering the harbor, the first thing that met my eye was the ship
Symmetry, which came to our deliverance off Cape Horn. She had, after a
tedious voyage, reached her destination. Capt. Thompson recognized us
from the deck of the Symmetry, and came on board to see me. He informed
me his crew were all in the lock-up, and there he intended to keep them,
to ensure better behavior in future. He looked really care-worn, from
continued and incessant trials. I pitied him more than I liked him. We
wondered at his coming to see us. I never saw him more.
Soon we were again steaming our way along the coast to San Francisco.
One night, we were all startled from our slumbers by the quick ring of
the fire-bell, and the wild shout of “Fire! fire!” ringing loud and
clear from the deck. Oh, what a rushing and screaming with the ladies!
what terrified looks, as they crowded and pushed one another up the
stairs, in mad haste to gain the deck! It was a scene of terrible
confusion; in the midst of which I stopped to put on shoes and
stockings. I say not this to boast of more self-possession or calmness
in moments of peril than naturally belongs to the sex; but, having been
so often subjected to the fiery ordeal during that eventful year, I had
learned to expect it as a matter of course, and was not so startled or
unprepared by the recurrence of such an event as those more favored,
who had recently left pleasant homes, and had encountered nought but
sunshine. It appeared one of the waiters had gone to the engineer’s room
(which was upon deck) to draw alcohol from a cask. It ignited by a spark
from the lamp; the cask exploded, and set fire to the room. The boy
rushed out in terror, rang the bell, and cried “Fire!” at the top of his
voice. One of the engineers, who was in bed at the time, was severely
burned. The greatest confusion prevailed for awhile, after the
passengers gained the deck _en masse_. Some sprang to the boats,
attempting to cut away the lashings, and were only deterred from
committing this dastardly act through fear of having a bullet put
through their heads. Several amusing and ludicrous incidents transpired
also. One man took his umbrella in one hand, and carpet-bag in the
other, and was caught in the act of jumping overboard. A Jew, who had on
board goods to the amount of several thousand dollars, was offering them
to any one for a bid of three hundred dollars, and cash down. The old
adage, “the ruling passion strong in death,” was here verified.
It was pronounced at once by all the ladies, that I must be the “Jonah;”
and really I began to think there might be some truth in the assertion.