SAN FRANCISCO TO SACRAMENTO.
LANDING AT SAN FRANCISCO--THE GOLDEN CITY--THE STREETS--THE BUSINESS
QUARTER--THE CHINESE QUARTER--THE TOUTERS--LEAVE SAN FRANCISCO--THE
FERRY-BOAT TO OAKLAND--THE BAY OF SAN FRANCISCO--LANDING ON THE
EASTERN SHORE--AMERICAN RAILWAY CARRIAGES--THE PULLMAN'S
CARS--SLEEPING BERTHS--UNSAVOURY CHINAMEN--THE COUNTRY--CITY OF
SACRAMENTO.
We have passed in from the Pacific through the Golden Gate, swung
round towards the south, and then, along the eastern margin of the
peninsula which runs up to form the bay, the City of San Francisco
lies before me! A great mass of houses and warehouses, fronted by a
long line of wharves, extends along the water's edge. Masses of
houses, tipped with occasional towers and spires, rise up on the high
ground behind, crowning the summits of Telegraph, Russian, and Clay
Street Hills.
But we have little time to take note of the external features of the
city, for we are already alongside the pier. Long before the gangways
can be run out and laid between the ship and the wharf, there is a
rush of hotel runners on board, calling out the names of their
respective hotels and distributing their cards. There is a tremendous
hurry-scurry. The touters make dashes at the baggage and carry it off,
sometimes in different directions, each hoping to secure a customer
for his hotel. Thus, in a very few minutes, the ship was cleared; all
the passengers were bowling along towards their several destinations;
and in a few minutes I found myself safely deposited in "The
Brooklyn," a fine large hotel in Bush Street, situated in the business
part of the town, with dwellings interspersed amongst the business
houses.
It is not necessary to describe San Francisco. Travellers have done
that over and over again. Indeed, there is not so much about it that
is of any great interest except to business men. One part of the city
is very like another. I was told that some of the finest buildings
were of the Italian order; but I should say that by far the greater
number were of the Ramshackle order. Although the first house in the
place was only built in 1835, the streets nearest to the wharves look
already old and worn out. They are for the most part of wood, and
their paint is covered with dirt. But though prematurely old, they are
by no means picturesque. Of course, in so large a place, with a
population of 150,000, and already so rich and prosperous, though so
young, there are many fine buildings and some fine streets. The hotels
carry away the palm as yet,--the Grand Hotel at the corner of Market
and New Montgomery Streets being the finest. There are also churches,
theatres, hospitals, markets, and all the other appurtenances of a
great city.
I had not for a long time seen such a bustle of traffic as presented
itself in the streets of San Francisco. The whole place seemed to be
alive. Foot passengers jostled each other; drays and waggons were
rolling about; business men were clustered together in some streets,
apparently "on change;" with all the accompaniments of noise, and
bustle, and turmoil of a city full of life and traffic. The money
brokers' shops are very numerous in the two finest streets--Montgomery
and California Streets. Nearly every other shop there belongs to a
money broker or money changer. Strange to see the piles of glistening
gold in the windows--ten to twenty dollar pieces, and heaps of
greenbacks.
John Chinaman is here, I see, in great force. There are said to be as
many as 30,000 in the city and neighbourhood. I wonder these people do
not breed a plague. I went through their quarter one evening, and was
surprised and disgusted with what I saw. Chinese men and women of the
lowest class were swarming in their narrow alleys. Looking down into
small cellars, I saw from ten to fifteen men and women living in
places which two white men would not sleep in. The adjoining streets
smelt most abominably. The street I went through must be one of the
worst; and I was afterwards told that it was "dangerous" to pass
through it. I observed a large wooden screen at each end of it, as if
for the purpose of shutting it off from the white people's quarter.
One of the nuisances we had to encounter in the streets was that of
railway touters. No sooner did we emerge from the hotel door, than
men lying in wait pounced upon us, offering tickets by this route,
that route, and the other route to New York. I must have had a very
"new chum" sort of look, for I was accosted no less than three times
one evening by different touting gentlemen. One wished to know if I
had come from Sydney, expressing his admiration of Australia
generally. Another asked if I was "going East," offering to sell me a
through ticket at a reduced price. The third also introduced the
Sydney topic, telling me, by way of inducement to buy a ticket of him,
that he had "worked there." I shook them all off, knowing them to be
dangerous customers. I heard some strange stories of young fellows
making friends with such strangers, and having drinks with them. The
drink is drugged, and the Sydney swell, on his way to New York, finds
himself next morning in the streets, minus purse, watch, and
everything of value about him.
There is only one railway route as yet across the Rocky Mountains, by
the Western, Central, and Union Pacific, as far as Omaha; but from
that point there are various lines to New York, and it was to secure
passengers by these respective routes that the touters were so busily
at work. All the hotels, bars, and stores, are full of their
advertisements:--"The Shortest Route to the East"--"Pullman's Palace
Cars Run on this Line"--"The Route of all Nations"--"The Grand Route,
_via_ Niagara," such are a few specimens of these urgent
announcements. I decided to select the route _via_ Chicago, Detroit,
Niagara, and down the Hudson river to New York; and made my
arrangements accordingly.
[Illustration: (Map of Atlantic and Pacific Railways) _Reduced from a
Map in Mr. Rae's_]
I left San Francisco on the morning of the 8th of February. The
weather was cold compared with that of the Sandwich Islands; yet there
were few signs of winter. There was no snow on the ground; and at
midday it was agreeable and comparatively mild. I knew, however, that
as soon as we left the shores of the Pacific, and ascended the western
slopes of the Rocky Mountains, if not before, we should encounter
thorough winter weather, and I prepared myself with coats and wrappers
as a defence from the cold.
My fellow-voyager from New Zealand, the German-American of whom I have
spoken above, and who seemed to take quite a liking for me,
accompanied me down to the wharf, where we parted with mutual regret.
It was necessary for me to cross the bay by a ferry-boat to Oakland,
where the train is made up and starts for Sacramento. There was a
considerable crowd round the baggage-office, where I gave up my
trunks, and obtained, in exchange, two small brass checks which will
enable me to reclaim them on the arrival of the train at Omaha. I
proceeded down the pier and on to the ferry-boat. Indeed, I was on it
before I was aware. It looked so like a part of the wharf, and was so
surrounded by piles and wooden erections, that I did not know I was on
its deck, and was inquiring about its arrival to take us off, when I
found the huge boat gradually moving away from the pier!
[Illustration: _'Westward by Rail.' Longmans._ 1871.]
It was a regular American ferry-boat, of the same build fore and aft,
capable of going alike backwards or forwards, and with a long bridge
at each end, ready to be let down at the piers on either side of the
bay, so as to enable carts or carriages to be driven directly on to
the main deck, which was just like a large covered yard, standing
level with the wharf. Over this was an upper deck with a nice saloon,
where I observed notices stuck up of "No spitting allowed;" showing
that there was greater consideration for the ladies here than there
was on board the 'Moses Taylor,' where spittle and quids were
constantly shooting about the decks, with very little regard for
passers-by, whether ladies or gentlemen.
Steaming away from the pier, we obtained a splendid view of the city
behind us. The wharves along its front were crowded with shipping of
all sorts; amongst which we could observe the huge American
three-decker river steamers, Clyde-built clippers, brigs, schooners,
and a multitude of smaller craft. Down the bay we see the green hills
rising in the distance, fading away in the grey of the morning. Close
on our left is a pretty island, about half-way across the bay, in the
centre of which is a green hill,--what seemed to Australian eyes good
pasture ground; and I could discern what I took to be a station or
farmhouse.
In about an hour we found ourselves nearing the land on the eastern
shore of the bay, where we observe the railway comes out to meet us.
The water on this side is so shoal for a distance from the shore that
no ships of any considerable burden can float in it, so that the
railway is carried out on piles into the deep water for a distance of
nearly a mile. Here we land, and get into the train waiting alongside;
then the engine begins to snort, and we are away. As we move off from
the waters of San Francisco Bay, I feel I have made another long
stride on the road towards England.
We continue for some time rolling along the rather shaky timber pier
on which the rails are laid. At last we reach the dry land, and speed
through Oakland--a pretty town--rattling through the streets just like
an omnibus or tramway car, ringing a bell to warn people of the
approach of the cars. We stop at nearly every station, and the local
traffic seems large. Farm land and nice rolling country stretches away
on either side of the track.
From looking out of the carriage windows, I begin to take note of the
carriage itself--a real American railway carriage. It is a long car
with a passage down the middle. On each side of this passage are seats
for two persons, facing the engine; but the backs being reversible, a
party of four can sit as in an English carriage, face to face. At each
end of the carriage is a stove, and a filter of iced water. The door
at each end leads out on to a platform, enabling the conductor to walk
through the train from one end to the other.
This arrangement for the conductor, by the way, is rather a nuisance.
He comes round six or seven times during the twenty-four hours, often
during the night, perhaps at a time when you are trying to snatch a
few minutes' nap, and you find your shoulder tapped, and a bull's-eye
turned full upon you, with a demand for "tickets." This, however, is
to be avoided by affixing a little card in your hat, which the
conductor gives you, so that by inspection he knows at once whether
his passenger is legitimate or not.
I did not travel by one of "Pullman's Silver Palace Drawing-room
Cars," though I examined them, and admired their many comforts. By
day they afford roomy accommodation, with ample space for walking
about, or for playing at cards or chess on the tables provided for the
purpose. At night a double row of comfortable-looking berths are made
up, a curtain being drawn along the front to render them as private as
may be, and leaving only a narrow passage along the centre of the car.
At the end of the car are conveniences for washing, iced water, and
the never-failing stove.
The use of the sleeping-cars costs about three or four dollars extra
per night. I avoided this expense, and contrived a very good
substitute in my second-class car. Fortunately we were not very full
of passengers; and by making use of four seats, or two benches,
turning one of the seat-backs round, and placing the seat-bottoms
lengthwise, I arranged a tolerably good sleeping-place for the night.
But had the carriage been full, and the occupants been under the
necessity of sitting up during the six days the journey lasted, I
should imagine that it must have become almost intolerable by the time
we reached Omaha.
There were some rather unpleasant fellow-travellers in my
compartment--several unsavoury Chinamen, smoking very bad tobacco; and
other smoking gentlemen, who make the second-class compartments their
rendezvous. But for the thorough draught we obtained from time to time
on the passage of the conductor, the atmosphere would be, as indeed it
often was, of a very disagreeable character.
About forty-two miles from San Francisco, I find we are already in
amongst the hills of a range, and winding in and out through pretty
valleys, where all available land is used for farming purposes. We
round some curves that look almost impossible, and I begin to feel the
oscillation of the carriages, by no means unlike the rolling of a ship
at sea. I often wished that it had been summer instead of winter, that
I might better have enjoyed the beauty of the scenery as we sped
along. As it was, I could see that the country must be very fine under
a summer sky. We have met with no snow at present, being still on the
sunny slopes of the Pacific; nor have we as yet mounted up to any very
high elevation.
We were not long in passing through the range of hills of which I have
spoken, and then we emerged upon the plains, which continued until we
reached Sacramento, the capital of the State. The only town of any
importance that we have yet passed was Stockton, a place about midway
between San Francisco and Sacramento, where we now are. Down by the
riverside I see some large lumber-yards, indicative of a considerable
timber trade. The wharves were dirty, as wharves generally are; but
they were busy with traffic. The town seemed well laid out, in broad
streets; the houses being built widely apart, each with its garden
about it; while long lines of trees run along most of the streets.
Prominent amongst the buildings is the large new Senate House or
Capitol, a really grand feature of the city. The place having been
originally built of wood, it has been liable to conflagrations, which
have more than once nearly destroyed it. Floods have also swept over
the valley, and carried away large portions of the town; but having
been rebuilt on piles ten feet above the original level, it is now
believed to be secure against injury from this cause.
Sacramento is the terminus of the Western Pacific Railway, from which
the Central Pacific extends east towards the Rocky Mountains. The
railway workshops of the Company are located here, and occupy a large
extent of ground. They are said to be very complete and commodious.
Many of the passengers by the train, whom we had brought on from San
Francisco, or picked up along the road, descended here; and I was very
glad to observe that amongst them were the Chinamen, who relieved us
from their further most disagreeable odour. After a short stoppage,
and rearrangement of the train, we were off again, toiling up the
slopes of the Sierra Nevada--the Switzerland of California.