VOYAGE TO CALIFORNIA.
On the 1st of February, 1849, we embarked, at the foot of Arch Street,
Philadelphia, on board the barque Thomas Walters, under command of
Captain Marshman, for Tampico, thence intending to cross Mexico, and,
re-embarking at Mazatlan, to proceed up the Pacific coast to San
Francisco. Our company consisted of about forty persons, known as the
Camargo Company. There were among them men from all the professions and
pursuits in life--young and old, grave and gay, married and unmarried.
After the usual amount of adventures, sea-sickness, and home-sickness,
we arrived at Tampico on the 21st of February, where we were most happy
to exchange the monotony, the junk and other salt provisions, and the
green waves of a sea life, for the pleasing variety, the delicious
fruits and vegetables, and the beautiful fields of a tropical climate.
We must take our readers with us, first to the theatre of Tampico, where
we went, not as spectators, but as actors upon its boards. The first
night after our arrival we appeared upon its stage, performing our parts
in the celebrated farce, the California Gold Diggers--a play which has
since been performed a thousand times, and with unabated interest. To
explain myself, our quarters, while in the city, were in the old
theatre, the various rooms of which we occupied as sleeping and eating
apartments.
This city is pleasantly located upon an elevated promontory, being
almost an island, having the River Panuco on the one side, and a lake
upon the other. It contains about seven thousand inhabitants, many of
whom are Americans. There are several large plazas or public squares,
and some pleasant houses. The American consul, Captain Chase, took us to
the spot where his heroic wife raised the American flag, and maintained
it in spite of the threats of the Mexicans.
The furnishing of such a company as ours with all the horses and mules
necessary for a journey of about eight hundred miles was not to be
accomplished at once. On the morning of the 8th of March, and the
fifteenth day after our arrival, we were mounted on “mustangs,” a small
and hardy horse, peculiarly adapted to the mountains over which we were
to travel, our provisions and clothing being on the backs of mules. All
being ready, we slowly filed out from the hacienda of Mr. Laffler, a
large farmer from Ohio, who was under contract to supply us with animals
to Mazatlan. We had spent some days here preparing for the march, and
amusing ourselves in spearing fish, and in shooting deer and alligators,
being ourselves likewise the sport of innumerable swarms of musquitoes,
ticks, fleas, and jiggers. This latter insect, though very small, is the
occasion, at times, of great inconvenience and suffering. These tropical
insects handled us so cruelly, that we were compelled to write, eat, and
sleep with gloves. To avoid them at night, I encased myself in a bag,
made of cotton, which I drew up over my whole body, then bringing it
around my head. This arrangement proved so much to my advantage that I
continued it during the whole time of my absence.
Upon the march, a _Caballero_, mounted upon his mule, took the lead,
followed by the whole train of draught mules and the attendants. Then
came the guide and the company, sometimes drawn up, under our military
captain, in regular order of march, and sometimes extended out over the
trail as far as the eye could reach. We were advised to keep well
together, and never to dispense with the night-guard, on account of the
guerillas, who would ever be on the watch for an opportunity to attack
us.
For several days our march lay across the level plains of the Tierra
Caliente, the region of perpetual spring, and clothed with verdure.
Having reached the foot-hills of the Sierra Madre, or Andes of Mexico,
one day’s travel brought us up into the temperate region. This was the
lower table-land. The landscape was no longer gay with flowers, but
abounded in immense forests. Here were found the varieties of the
musquite, the stately cypress, and the banyan. The whole undergrowth was
a thorny thicket, in which the prickly pear and the cactus predominated.
After traveling a day over this region, we came to a valley, into which
we descended, and where, in the midst of a fertile country, we entered
Villa de Vallee. This town contains a cathedral in ruins, which, like
those of many of the towns of Mexico, were partially destroyed at the
time of the revolution, and have never since been repaired. One of the
wings was occupied as a chapel, while the residence of the _Padre_ was
in a kind of shed behind.
A letter from Bishop Kendrick, of Philadelphia, which he kindly sent me
as I was about leaving home, procured me every attention here. This
general letter of introduction, written in the Latin language, gained
for me much valuable information from the priests of Mexico. The
assistance, and in some cases the protection, which it secured to our
whole company, can not be overrated. It is as follows:
“Nos Franciscus Patricius Kendrick, Dei et Apostolicæ Sedis Gratia,
Episcopus Philadelphiensis Universis has litteras inspecturis notum
facimus et testamur Danielem B. Woods, in Statu Massachusetts
natum, et per aliquot annos hujus urbis incolam, civem esse
spectabilem moribus, et fama integra, quem suorum negotiorum causa
alio migrantem, omnibus commendamus, ut si qua indiguerit opera
amica, ea fruatur.
“In quorum fidem has litteras dedimus Philadelphiæ die XXX. mensis
Januarii anno MDCCCXLIX.
“FRANCISCUS PATRICIUS, Ep. Phil.”
Padre Calisti endorsed this letter in Spanish.
The houses of Villa de Vallee were of one story, and generally made of
mud-bricks dried in the sun. The people seemed all poor and very
indolent, the women, as is the case through Mexico, being far superior
to the men in industry and intelligence. We remained here several days
to have our animals shod, a necessary preparation for crossing the
mountains. The day before we left, the padre invited me to dine with
him.
After the animals were made ready, we proceeded over the plains toward
the mountains, some of the peaks of which we could see. Before we
reached these we crossed the Tomwin River at a small town where we
passed the night. The place for the entertainment of travelers was near
the banks of the river, and late in the afternoon we walked out to the
stream, where were gathered men, women, and children, floundering and
bathing in the water. Nor was it long before several of our company were
joining in their wild and gleeful sports.
For some time reports of a revolution in the country about us reached
our ears, and hearing from some villagers that, if we kept on our
course, we should meet the insurgents the next day, we concluded to turn
aside at once into the mountains, though we should thus be compelled to
ascend by a path which is seldom attempted. We were three days in
climbing the mountains and clambering over the rocks--such as I hope not
to see again. Its precipices were fearful. We would sometimes wind our
way up or down the face of a mountain by paths cut in the side, over
which a person might be let down many hundred feet by ropes. It was a
volcanic country, and its conical peaks were surrounded for miles with
scoria and pumice-stone, which tore the shoes from the feet of our
animals, rendering it almost impossible to travel. This was a country
fitted for the ladrones and guerillas. And the frequent crosses planted
by the path told of murders which had been committed here, and where
the traveler was, if so disposed, to offer up prayers for the repose of
the souls of the murdered. We were cautioned to be on our guard, and to
maintain a constant watch at night. But, notwithstanding such cautions,
we were often tempted, for the sake of avoiding the dust, to travel in
advance of the train. In company with a gentleman who was armed as well
as myself, I started on, not expecting to meet our companions again till
we halted for the night. We were about three miles in advance of the
train, and, as we rode around the angle of a large rock near the path,
six or seven men, who were lying there apparently watching for us,
started suddenly to their feet and sprung to our side. Our guns were
fortunately in our hands, and in a position that we could use them; we
were also armed with revolvers and knives at our belts. Seeing that we
were not intimidated by their violent gestures, but were calm and ready,
they soon dropped behind us, and after a time disappeared. These robbers
never attack travelers if every chance is not in their favor. A small
party of five persons belonging to our company were placed in greater
danger even than ours. They were traveling some days before us, and not
far from this same spot. They had been warned at the last town that a
party of twenty guerillas had gone out early in the morning for the
purpose of attacking them. As they rode slowly on, they came in sight of
the robbers, who had chosen well their positions, and were waiting for
them. Five of the twenty-one robbers were stationed in the path, while
the others were divided up into small gangs on each side and in the
rear. All these were mounted but one, who was employed as a runner
between the different parties. The Americans halted, newly capped their
rifles and revolvers, and slowly proceeded on their way. With pale
faces, but undaunted hearts, they rode up to the Mexicans, who, as they
came on, retired and allowed them to pass. When they reached the summit
of a hill a half mile distant, and looked back, the robbers were still
in the same position. The knowledge, on their part, of the certainty, in
case of an encounter, of the death of some of their number, daunted
them.
At length we reached the summit of the table-land, eight thousand feet
above the level of the sea, which spread out a vast plain before us,
from which many lofty volcanic peaks sprung up, attaining to an
elevation of fourteen thousand feet.
Excepting in the valleys, there is but little vegetation upon these
plateaus. And we could not imagine where the supplies for the markets of
the cities could be obtained. For several days our path lay through palm
and palmetto groves. The parasol shade of their small tops was no
shelter from the heat of the sun at noon, but rather increased its
intensity. And the whole day long would come, screaming over us, the
never-ending flocks of parrots. Their cry, to a weary traveler, is
almost intolerable. The cactus, Mexico’s national flower, and emblazoned
upon her coat of arms, and stamped upon her coin, is found here in a
thousand varieties. The beautiful flower itself is often three feet in
height. After leaving these palm groves, we entered upon a very barren
and desolate region. It was a desert of sand and dust, almost without
water. Our mules would raise such a cloud of dust, especially if there
was any wind, as to be nearly suffocating. The great elevation to which
we had attained caused the most disagreeable sensations. On lying down
at night, or rising in the morning, there would be a painful giddiness.
The skin became parched and dry, and the spirits were oppressed. While
traveling over this region, we were overtaken one day by a dust storm,
which was as novel as it was oppressive. It was near night. We saw
before us, which after a time spread out all around us, many wild
whirlwinds which extended up into the sky, carrying with them apparently
solid conical masses of clouds. We counted upward of sixty cones formed
and forming at the same time. As the sun was setting, these extended at
the top, opening something in the form of an umbrella, the cones still
continuing to play up their heaving masses into its expanding bosom,
which presented a most unearthly and terrific appearance. It was the
_blackness of darkness_, which suddenly became illuminated by the lurid
flashes of lightning darting through it, and forming a picture of that
wrath which, we may suppose, broods and bursts over the bottomless pit.
Suddenly its edges closed down around us, snatching away the remaining
light of day, and shrouding us in darkness, like that of Egypt, through
which we groped, calling and shouting to each other, yet not able to see
a yard before us.
“Eripiunt subito nubes cœlumque, diemque
Teucrorum ex oculis; ponto nox incubat atra.”
Again a rush was heard, which came nearer and more near, filling us
with dread, till it struck us with the suddenness of a blow. It was as
though all those cones had drawn closer and closer together, till they
were piled into one consolidated mountain of dust, pressed down by the
mass in the air upon our heads. For a time all our efforts to see or to
speak were vain. We could hardly breathe. If we moved at all, it was by
setting our backs against the elements and pushing with all our
strength. There was not a drop of rain; it was a storm of dust--a
_sirocco_. Fortunately for us, we were near the _meson_, which we
entered after being half an hour exposed to its fury, and as it was
abating. Every thing was penetrated by it, and it seemed as though water
could not clean our eyes or our throats.
In the _mesons_, the various apartments for travelers, the stables, the
eating-room, and all the offices, are built around a spacious paved
court, upon which all the windows and doors open. A large gate forms the
entrance, which is closed and bolted at night. The rooms for travelers,
often twenty feet square, are entirely unfurnished. He is to supply his
own bed and bedding, which he spreads out upon a floor which seems never
to have been swept. For his meals he must go to the _fonda_, and order
what he may choose or what they may have. One dish at a time is spread
upon the bare table, which is often furnished with plates, but not often
with knives, forks, or spoons. A variety of soups, made hot with red
pepper, and a slice of bread, forms the first course. Then follows rice,
with thin Indian cakes. Sometimes squash fried in lard is added. A
favorite dessert is the Mexican custard, made of rice or chocolate.
Coffee, wine, or _pulque_, a drink made of the maguey, closes the
entertainment. There are distilleries in the country where the pulque is
converted into a most hateful species of whisky.
In the morning the horses and mules are led out into the court, every
preparation is made, and the travelers take their leave, throwing behind
them their hasty adieus. These mesons in city and country are very
filthy, and much infested with vermin. In one instance we saw a number
of _Tarantulas_--the venomous black spider of the tropics--hanging upon
the walls of our room after we had slept upon its floor.
On the 22d of March we entered San Luis Potosi. This is a large city,
possessing considerable wealth. It is near the silver mines, and
contains a mint.
We saw here, for the first time, a stage-coach. It was up for the city
of Mexico, distant about three hundred miles, which journey is
accomplished in six days, at an expense of $25 for a seat. The coach
consists of a large unwieldy frame, upon which is swung the body, which
is comparatively small.
The ignorance of the Mexicans is equal to their superstition. We were
amused at an instance afforded us in the case of a schoolmaster. While
describing to him the modes of traveling in America, we told him about
the steamers, at which he was not much surprised, having heard of them
before; but when we told him of the rail-road, he listened with the same
incredulity with which the King of Siam heard the missionaries describe
ice; but when we told him of the telegraph, he slowly arose, wrapped
his _serapi_ around him, and moved off, without deigning us a word or a
look.
We were present at a cock-fight, one of the favorite amusements of the
Mexicans in general, and of Santa Anna in particular. A low fence
inclosed the pit, within which were the attendants exhibiting the game
cocks, and the owners who were taking the bets of the spectators. Among
these were several padres, always known by their peculiar dress. The
crowd around exhibited no excitement. Gambling with the Mexicans is a
regular pursuit, and not a means of diversion or excitement. There was
no difference in their appearance, whether they were at church or at
their cock-fights. After all the betting was done, long steel spears,
made very sharp, and three inches in length, were fastened upon the legs
of the cocks, and they were pitted to fight. In the first encounter, one
cock thrust his spear into the breast of the other, which died very soon
after. In the second, two fine cocks were pitted, and more interest than
usual was felt and deeper betting elicited. In less than half a minute,
one was lying dead, the spear of the other being thrust so far through
his head that it was with difficulty withdrawn.
In one of our rambles through the city, we were accosted in the most
remarkable manner by a well-dressed and beautiful sigñorita. She was
seated at a window of one of the houses of the wealthy. As we caught her
piercing black eye, she smiled a cordial greeting, to which one of the
party responded by a respectful “Buenos dias, sigñorita!” Her reply was
a terrible oath, and a most obscene expression in English, and yet there
was that about her manner and tone which denoted that she meant to say
that which was very civil and kind. We were told, when relating the
incident afterward to an Englishman residing in the city, that some
American soldiers very basely amused themselves, while pretending to
teach the sigñoritas our language, by making them repeat just the
expressions we had heard, and other similar ones, as forms of polite
salutation.
We spent two days in the city to give rest to our animals, and then
proceeded on our way toward Guadalaxara. Between these two cities the
country is more uneven. The scenery is often very beautiful. We received
many cautions to be on our guard, as we were to pass through a part of
the country where many depredations and murders had been committed. We
were told of travelers who had been suddenly dragged from their horses
by the lasso, and murdered. One day we witnessed an instance of the
surprising skill of the Mexicans in the use of the lasso. One of the
horses threw his rider, and went galloping off across the plain. In a
moment a muleteer had spurred his mule forward in pursuit, coiling up
his rope as he went. Presently the coil darted through the air, and fell
with unerring aim over the head of the horse, bringing him at once to a
pause.
The most beautiful city we saw in Mexico was Santa Maria de los Lagos.
Its cathedral was grand, towering high above its houses, and, as we rode
through the streets, was inviting, by its chimes, to vespers. This town
appeared to be more thriving and prosperous than any we had seen. The
remark has often been made that the views of the city and its environs,
from the tower of the cathedral, are similar to those of Jerusalem. San
Juan de los Lagos, another city a day’s journey from the former, was
almost equal in beauty. Its cathedral was even more splendid. The first
object which caught our attention, as we were crossing the plaza on
which it fronted, was a woman creeping on her knees toward the steps of
the cathedral, probably as a penance.
It was not without some apprehension, after having heard so much of
guerilla parties, that we saw before us, the day after we left the last
town, a company of armed men coming toward us. We were ordered to
examine our arms, and have them ready for use. They proved to be
government troops, which were marching to meet the insurgents in
Tamaulipas county. At their head were several American deserters, but
not Americans, who were leading along some females by the hand. We also
met a company of “_Volunteers_,” who had just been “pressed” into
service. They were chained together in gangs of ten or more, and were
driven along--the most desperate-looking wretches.
On the 2d of April, 1849, we reached Guadalaxara. This is the second
city in Mexico, and contains a population of 125,000. Some of the
cathedrals have cost millions. Many of the public buildings and squares,
and the palaces of the wealthy, are very beautiful. The interiors of the
cathedrals glistened with their silver shrines, chandeliers, and
railing. The rude floors were covered with kneeling worshipers. The
tones of the bells are very clear and sonorous. This is probably owing
to the large amount of silver used in their composition. This, like the
city of Mexico, is very compact, the streets straight, broad, and well
paved. The houses, with their heavy-grated windows upon the streets, and
their huge door-ways in the centre, gave them the appearance of so many
fortresses. It is behind these walls and gates that the Mexican is
luxurious and extravagant. His house is most gayly furnished, nor does
he spare any expense in procuring that which will please his fancy. The
women never wear bonnets. The covering for the head is called the
_reboso_. This is a kind of scarf, some six feet long and three wide,
which covers the head, and is drawn closely down over the face, and then
crosses in front. It is a very common practice with the Mexican women to
smoke the _cigarrito_.
In this city we were first made rather painfully aware of a custom of
the country, of uncovering the head while passing the front portal of
the cathedral. Two or three stones, well aimed, removed the hats which
our hands should have removed. The streets, as in the cities generally,
are here cleaned by the convicts, who are chained and guarded by
soldiers. As we were passing one of these gangs, I had fallen behind my
companions, and was alone. One of the soldiers came to me, and, saying
“Amigo” (friend), suddenly thrust his hand into my pocket. Supposing
that he wanted tobacco, I told him I had none. While I was speaking,
another soldier put his hand into a pocket on the other side.
Here we witnessed the procession of the Host. The priest, carrying the
sacred emblems, rode in a carriage, followed by a band of music, and
numerous attendants bearing a flag, upon which was painted the likeness
of a lamb, about which were many persons bearing lighted lanterns. Then
came a crowd of citizens. As the procession passed, all in the street
knelt.
One among the many cathedrals we visited greatly interested us. It was
filled with beautiful exotics, brought there from the gardens of the
wealthy in honor of the approaching Easter holidays. As we were passing
through the aisles, examining the flowers, a lady of rank and fortune,
perceiving us, called a lad to her, whispering to him. He went out by a
side door, but soon returned, followed by a venerable-looking priest,
who addressed us in correct English. When he had read Bishop Kendrick’s
letter, he gave us a cordial welcome, and led us into his library, one
of the largest on the continent. This contained many of our own standard
works, and was ornamented by the portraits of distinguished men, among
which we noticed a splendid portrait of Washington. Assuring me we
should want nothing to render our journey agreeable and safe, he sent an
attendant to show us the paintings and treasures of the cathedral.
On the 4th of April we left Guadalaxara, having received notice from an
officer of government that no travelers were permitted to enter or to
leave the city during the Easter solemnities. In a few hours we entered
the wild passes of a very picturesque and mountainous country. The first
time for many days our road led us along over many fine mountain
streams, and through forests, where we began to find our own pine and
oak. “A song for the brave old oak” was heartily responded to by all. As
night set in, we pitched our camp in a narrow defile, surrounded by high
peaks, which we were to ascend on the morrow. The inhabitants seemed as
wild as their country. Every hour our guides were coming to us with
stories of recent robberies and murders, and committed upon the very
spot, perhaps, where we then were. In one deep gorge of the mountains
into which we were passing, we were told that three hundred armed
guerillas awaited us. And, in another place, a few days previous, some
government soldiers had met a large company of robbers, and had
dispersed them, after shooting several of the most desperate. In
corroboration of these stories, we suddenly came upon a scene so
fearfully in keeping with our own excited state of feeling, and the wild
character of the country around us, that we shall never lose the
impression left upon our imaginations. In the midst of a field charred
and blackened by a fire which had passed over it, stood out in bold
relief a gallows, upon which were hanging three mangled and distorted
bodies. There they had hung about six weeks, after having murdered
twenty persons. Over the gallows, which was a painted one, were printed
these words of warning: “Asi Castiga La Ley Al Ladron Y Al Asesino.”
Magdalena is a pleasant town, situated among the mountains, on the banks
of a beautiful lake. Here we saw the first of the dramatic street
representations of the closing scenes in the life of our Savior. These
consisted in enacting each day in their order the events recorded in
Scripture. Most of the day and one entire night were devoted to these
exhibitions, in which all the people participated. In Magdalena the
procession paraded the streets during the night, with torches, and
accompanied by a band performing solemn music. The image of the Savior,
which was Spanish in its features, like all the sacred images of Mexico,
had a bandage over the eyes, and was led away by a band of ruffians, as
if for trial. At a distance the image of the Virgin Mary was borne along
by weeping females. We saw nothing more--not again entering any
town--till the third night, when we reached Tocotes. At this stage in
the series the Savior was represented as borne by the centurions and
soldiers to the tomb. The image was placed in a glass coffin strewed
with flowers. This was borne by men. At a distance was the image of Mary
led by women, her hands folded in an attitude of grief. The cathedral
was decorated with a profusion of flowers, in the midst of which was the
tomb. These tragical scenes were followed, at the close, by a
_fandango_, which is a dance peculiar to the country. It is a lazy
shuffle, accompanied by music upon the guitar, varied occasionally by a
song, in the chorus of which all present join.
During one evening of Easter, soon after we had arrived at the _meson_,
some one came rushing in, informing us that the guerillas had surrounded
us. Seizing our arms, we hastened to the court, where all was
confusion. There were thirty robbers outside the walls. They said that
they were government soldiers, and loudly demanded admittance, asserting
that they came from the alcalde. The proprietor told them they were
ladrones, and refused to admit them. They left soon after, threatening
to return. The alcalde came in much alarmed, and told us that they were
robbers; that the troops of government never traveled during Easter, and
if they did they were bound to report themselves to him. We mutually
pledged ourselves, in case of an attack during the night upon the town
or upon our quarters, to aid the citizens or they us, as the case might
be. We made our preparations for defense, and slept with our arms at our
sides. Nothing more was heard of the robbers. In the vicinity of Tocotes
we crossed over a remarkable mountain. For several hours we were
ascending by zigzag paths, each turn bringing us higher among the
clouds. When we had reached the summit point, we were several thousand
feet above many of our companions and all the mules, a distance of more
than two miles by the road, but in a direct line not more than one
quarter of a mile, for we could distinctly hear the loud talking of the
company and the shouts of the mule-drivers. We looked over the edge of
the precipice, and watched our companions as they wound their way slowly
up. The view was very grand, though it produced a painful giddiness.
Soon after ascending this mountain, our way led us through the crater of
an old volcano. There were the pumice-stone, the scoria, and the charred
and blackened rocks, as though they had but just issued, boiling and
bursting, from the bowels of the earth. We could imagine that we smelt
the sulphurous vapor and felt the volcanic heat arising from the pent-up
fires below, so fresh did the whole field of desolation and ruin appear.
And our imaginations were carried back to the fearfully terrific scenes
which had been enacted here. The descent from the table-land down to the
shores of the Pacific is abrupt and steep. On the 12th of April we
reached San Blas, a dull and unhealthy sea-port. At this place, our
company, which had hung together in fragments, was dissolved. Men alone
are not social beings; and the numerous attempts to bind them together
in California gold-mining associations are as vain as the attempt to
make a rope of sand.
After some delay in making our preparations, we embarked at San Blas on
the 12th of April, in the San Blasiña, a schooner of twenty-three
tons--being thirty-six feet long and twelve wide--for San Francisco. In
this miserable, unseaworthy craft, thirty-eight of us took passage. It
was represented to us that the Pacific was so quiet that it would be
safe to go up in open boats. Alas for our error! Yet it was only too
common. In some instances, emigrants, in their extreme anxiety to
proceed on their way, have embarked in whale boats at Panama, hoping to
reach San Francisco. Our voyage to Mazatlan was most disagreeable. We
were so cramped for room on deck, the hold being filled with bananas,
that three of us slept in a canoe hewed from a log, which was made
secure on deck. The portion of it which I occupied was two and a half
feet long and three and a half wide. There I slept for eight nights. On
the 20th of April we reached Mazatlan, after having been put upon an
allowance of water, and the last day having no water at all. This is an
important sea-port and a fine city. Though it possesses no public
buildings of note, many of the dwelling houses are spacious and
pleasant. Its fine bathing-ground forms its principal attraction. A
small and inferior chapel is the only place of worship, while the
amphitheatre for the bull-fights is a spacious inclosure, capable of
accommodating many hundred persons. This “Plaza de los Toros,” as it is
called, is an amphitheatre covering about one quarter of an acre. Around
this the seats are arranged in tiers. On one side are the pens for the
bulls, on the other the elevated seat of the manager, fancifully
decorated. Large show-bills state the number and qualifications of the
various animals, brute and human, to be brought forward, and invite all
who are so disposed to be present. The Sabbath is generally the day
selected for the spectacle, and on the morning of that day a procession
of the _valiant and brave_, already equipped for the encounter, and
accompanied by martial music, parade the streets. During the pauses in
the music, a crier, in a loud voice, boasts the victories they expect to
achieve. Many of the spectators are females. Nothing but unmingled
disgust and loathing can be excited by the scene. It is a disgraceful
and cowardly butchery, in which the poor animal has not even one chance
of defense or escape.
A great number of Americans were waiting at this place for opportunities
to go to San Francisco. Many of them had exhausted their means, and
were engaging in various employments to raise money to take them
through.
There are about seven millions of inhabitants in Mexico. The rich class
are very wealthy, own most of the land in the country, and live in
palaces in the cities. They are few in number. Among them may be classed
a portion of the priests. The poor class constitute the great majority,
seldom owning any property, and the larger proportion being abjectly
poor.
We took our departure from Mazatlan on May 4th, having spent two weeks
in litigation respecting the schooner, which resulted in favor of the
passengers, and made us, the first time in our lives, _ship-owners_. The
whole had been an unfortunate operation, and we had already paid more
for our passage than the schooner was worth. The owners had _lost_ the
money which had been advanced to them, and were unable to comply with
the terms of the contract, by putting the schooner in sailing order in
Mazatlan. Papers were accordingly made out, giving us undisputed
possession of twenty-three tons burden of shipping. Our captain, a very
old man, had not been to sea for twenty years before this memorable
voyage. I shall presently have to relate an account of the _adroit_
manner in which he upset a boat-load of us to pass half an hour among
the sharks and waves before we could get to land. Our mate was a
Frenchman, and the only skillful sailor among us. He knew that we were
proceeding on a wrong course, and as it was mutiny to put the vessel on
a right course by daylight, as soon as it was dark enough he would put
the “ship about,” so that what we lost in the day we gained in the
night. The rest of the crew were sailors drafted from the passengers. We
were again short of water, and having been unable to procure a supply
along the coast, we anchored off San José, a small town near the cape.
The captain requested me to accompany him on shore. The waves ran very
high, and it was dangerous to attempt a landing, unless under the
guidance of one who understood “surfing a boat.” After every third wave
which breaks upon the shore, there is a lull, short indeed, but of
sufficient length to permit a boat which follows instantaneously upon it
to get beyond the reach of the first wave of the next series. The only
method is to row nearly to the line where the waves show a long white
crest before they break upon the shore, and then to rest upon the oars.
As soon as the third wave has passed, the rowers must urge the boat
promptly and vigorously in. If this one rule is neglected, the
“swamping” of the boat must inevitably be the result. The captain
explained this so accurately that we could not doubt his skill. We had
four stout rowers, breathlessly awaiting the signal upon the brink of
the breakers. But, unfortunately, the signal came between the second and
third waves. We were a hundred yards from the landing. Suddenly we heard
the warning roar, like the low tone of the distant thunder. I looked
behind, and the wave was moving toward us like an impending wall, six
feet above the boat. Suddenly it broke, showing the white crest rapidly
extending itself along as far as the eye could reach. Its first
approach tossed the boat, like a straw, on one side, and instantly the
whole wave came toppling down upon us, burying the boat and three of
those who were in it beneath the rushing tides. I had risen from my
seat, and the wave struck me many feet toward the shore, crushing my hat
over my face and eyes, so that some moments and several waves passed
over me before I could again see. When I was able to look around me, the
captain and one of my companions were swimming for land. The others were
clinging to the keel of the boat, after having been buried beneath it
till they were nearly strangled. Those who were swimming were soon on
shore, the captain so completely exhausted that he sank down into the
water, and was dragged back to the dry sand. In half an hour all were
safe on the beach, grateful for so remarkable a deliverance. Our danger
was greatly increased by the fact that the place was infested with
sharks. The next day, as we were walking along the shore, two fish
darted out of the water, and were instantly followed by two large
sharks, which pursued them high upon the beach. We made several attempts
to double the cape and proceed on our way, but were driven back each
time by heavy head winds. In our third attempt we were becalmed, and
spent the most of the day in rowing our schooner along, which we did at
the rate of three miles an hour. After we had turned in, and were
sleeping upon some water and provision casks in the hold, made level by
laying down sticks of wood and boards between them, a severe gale sprang
up, and drove us at a fearful rate from our course. The sails were
rent, and flapped wildly in the wind. No one but the mate dared to
approach them. He was at the helm, which he lashed down while he drew in
and furled the refractory sails. Our danger was great, and during the
long hours of that night there was little sleep among us. Eight, each
unknown to the others, formed a resolution, that if we lived to reach
the land, we would never again risk our lives in the San Blasiña. Near
the close of the next day, we anchored in a narrow roadstead off the
cape. The mate and many of the passengers went on shore, which was half
a mile distant, taking the torn sails to be mended. The boat was also
hauled up on the beach, and turned over to be caulked. It was near night
of the following day, and we were all scattered over the beach and in
the village, when alarm guns from the schooner arrested our attention.
To our surprise, the vessel had changed her position, having dragged her
only anchor. She was already nearly two miles distant, those on board
having lost much time in ineffectual attempts to bring her back to
anchorage. By the time the mate and a crew daring enough to venture out
could be found, she was almost at sea, and already pitching about over
the waves. Soon a dark, cloudy night obscured the schooner and the boat
alike from our view. We kindled a large beacon-fire on the beach, and,
wrapping ourselves in our blankets, anxiously awaited the return of our
companions. In the morning the schooner was safely moored near the
shore.
At this place our ship’s company was divided, a part being determined
to proceed on their journey by sea, while another part intended to walk
up to San Francisco, a distance of twelve hundred miles, over a barren
country, and uninhabited except by Indians. Of these latter, a portion
started by an almost imperceptible path, which led them toward the
Atlantic coast, while the remaining four of us expected to proceed up
the gulf coast. As we ascended the hills behind the village, we caught a
last look of the schooner, already out some distance at sea. When we
reached San José, to our joy we found the Scottish barque Collooney,
Capt. Livingston, for San Francisco, anchored there, having put in for
water. We were received on board, and on May 25th weighed anchor and
were again on our way. The Collooney was from Panama, having on board
two hundred passengers, with accommodations for twenty. At the time for
meals, two assistant stewards, mounted upon the long boat near the two
galleys, called over the names of the passengers belonging to their
divisions. As his name was called, each one walked up if it was calm,
and reeled up if it was rough, to the galleys, and received in a tin
plate and dipper his allowance. It was a tedious voyage of thirty-five
days from the cape to San Francisco. On several Sundays I was invited to
preach upon the quarter-deck. On these occasions we were sometimes
favored with original hymns from the pen of T. G. Spear, of
Philadelphia, who was a passenger on board. I shall give a part of one
of these as very appropriate.
“Our path is on the mighty deep,
But God is with us there,
To guard us in the night, asleep,
And in the noonday’s glare.
Our barque, a speck beneath the sky,
His hand conveys along;
He makes the winds around her fly,
Be gentle or be strong.
Here let us pause, and praise, and pray,
And seek that boon sublime,
That opens up a brighter day,
And smooths the storms of time.”
Much of the time was passed in vexatious calms. We were such a picture
as Coleridge had in his mind when he wrote,
“Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion,
As idly as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.”
June 25th, 1849, we reached San Francisco, seventy-four days from San
Blas, and one hundred and forty-five days from Philadelphia. This
wonderful city is an uninviting spot. There is but a small strip of
level land, crowded down to the bay, surrounded by high, sandy hills,
covered with short bushes, while not a tree is to be seen. The city is
composed chiefly of tents. Each day regularly, at about ten o’clock,
there arrives in the city, coming down with a rush over the bleak and
barren hills, a cold, chilling wind, which takes one at once from the
summer to the winter solstice. Fires are comfortable, and cloaks or
serapis are necessary. Gambling seems to be universal. Rents are held at
the most exorbitant prices. I almost fear to risk my credibility by
stating that the Parker House rents at $150,000 a year. On the
afternoon of the second day after our arrival, the 27th of June, our
luggage being transferred from the Colooney to a river schooner which
was taken alongside, we “set sail” up the bay.
We spent the first night at Benicia, anchoring near the landing. Taking
our blankets, as we would our umbrellas at home, we called upon the Rev.
Mr. W., and were introduced by him to a trader, who kindly permitted us
to sleep in a large unfinished room, while in another part of the same
room were a party consisting of a Mexican master and his peons, on their
way to the mines.
June 29th. Arrived at Sacramento City, the present of which is under
canvas, and the future on paper. Every thing is new except the ground,
and trees, and the stars, beneath a canopy of which we slept. Quarreling
and cheating form the employments, drinking and gambling the amusements,
making the largest pile of gold the only ambition of the inhabitants. As
each one steps his foot on shore, he seems to have entered a magic
circle, in which he is under the influence of new impulses. The wills of
all seem under the control of some strong and hidden agency. The city is
every day newly filled, then emptied but to be filled again. The crowd
ever presses on, elate with hope, excited by expectations, which it
would be impossible to define or realize. The world-renowned Sutter’s
Fort, which is two miles from the landing, is a rude structure made of
sun-dried bricks, about five hundred feet long and two hundred wide. It
is now used for other purposes, a part of it being fitted up as a
hospital.
July 2d. Walked from Sacramento to Mormon Island, a distance of
twenty-nine miles; and the next day, each one having forty pounds of
baggage upon his back, consisting of a cradle, tools for mining,
provisions, blankets, &c., walked eight miles farther up the south fork
of the American River to Salmon Falls, there to commence our mining
operations.