are under the supervision of females. They are generally well supplied
with every variety of fruit from the islands, together with eggs, fowls,
&c. The beef and pork are sold by the _yard_. Beef is cut in thin strips
and dried in the sun; this is packed or sewed up in skins, and is an
article of export from many of the South American Republics. The
inhabitants have a great passion for “fighting-cocks.” There is not a
house that is not furnished with from one to a dozen. They generally
occupy the best aparments, and, on entering a house, your first
salutation is from “chanticleer,” he having a strange propensity to do
the loud talking. They also venerate the turkey-buzzard, with which the
city is sometimes clouded. They are the carrion bird of the south, and
no doubt good in their place, but the most loathsome of all the
feathered tribe.
The citizens of Panama, as well as of other tropical countries, have the
happy faculty of devoting most of their time to the pursuit of pleasure,
i.e., they divide time between business and pleasure, giving to the
latter a great predominance. Before the innovations made by “los
Americanos,” stores were open from 9 to 10 A.M., and 4 to 5 P.M., the
balance of the day was spent in smoking, drinking coffee, chocolate, or
cocoa, gambling, cock-fighting, attending church, or wooing sleep in
hammocks. The city is generally healthy, yet at some seasons of the
year, is subject to fevers of a malignant type. It has been visited
several times by that scourge the cholera, which swept off many of its
inhabitants, and, at one time, seemed destined to depopulate the
country. The priests clad themselves in sackcloth, and devoted every
moment to the rites of the church, burning incense and invoking the
patron saint of the city to stay the ravages of the disease. The vaults
in which the dead are deposited, are a succession of arches in
mason-work, resembling large ovens. When one of these is full it is
closed up, and the adjoining one filled.
The city has a small garrison of soldiers, their only duty being to
guard the prison, and conduct prisoners out in chain-gangs to labor,
paving the streets, repairing the walls, carrying goods, &c. A gang will
be seen in front of the cathedral, in the accompanying plate. The
appearance of the under-officers, is ludicrous in the extreme. They are
seen parading the streets with an air of authority, in full uniform, and
barefooted.
Soon after my arrival at Panama, one of the British steamers came in
from Valparaiso with $1,000,000 in gold and silver. This was deposited
in front of the custom-house, and guarded during the night by soldiers;
and, in the morning, packed on mules, preparatory to crossing the
Isthmus. It required thirty-nine mules to effect the transportation. A
detachment of nine first started, driven by a single soldier, armed with
a musket, and barefooted. The second, third, and fourth detachments
started at intervals of half an hour, each guarded like the first. The
mules were driven in droves, without bridle or halter. The route being
through an unbroken forest of twenty-five miles, it would seem a very
easy matter to rob the “conducta.” But, strange to say, although
$1,000,000 per month, for several years, has passed over the route, no
such attempt has ever been made. In the immediate vicinity, and
overlooking the city, is a mountain called “Cerro Lancon,” which was
once fortified by an invading foe, from which the city was bombarded and
taken. On the summit a staff is now seen, from which the stars and
stripes float proudly in the breeze. This was erected by the Panama
Railroad Company, to point out, during the survey, the location of the
city.
Great anxiety was felt by the Americans at Panama to proceed on to
California. The sun had passed overhead, and was settling in the north,
indicating the approach of the rainy season. Many were sick of the
fever, many had died, which added to the general anxiety. Many had
procured steamer tickets before leaving home. The steamers had passed
down to San Francisco, been deserted by their crews, and were unable to
return, and there were no seaworthy vessels in port. The indomitable
go-a-head-ativeness of the Yankee nation could not remain dormant, and
soon several “bungoes” were “up” for California. Schooners of from
thirteen to twenty-five tons, that had been abandoned as worthless, were
soon galvanized, by pen and type, into “_the new and fast sailing
schooner_.” These were immediately filled up at from $200 to $300 per
ticket, passengers finding themselves. In the anxiety to get off, a
party purchased an iron boat on the Chagres River, carried it across to
Panama on their shoulders, fitted it out, and sailed for California. The
first “bungo” that sailed, after getting out into the bay some three or
four miles, was struck by a slight flaw of wind, dismasted, and obliged
to put back for repairs. This caused a very perceptible decline in
“bungo” stocks. Many took passage in the British steamer for Valparaiso,
in hopes to find conveyance from that port. The passengers of one of
“_the fast sailing schooners_” when going on board, preparatory to
sailing, found that the owners, in their _zeal to accommodate their
countrymen_, had sold about three times as many tickets as said vessel
would carry. Instead of allowing fourteen square feet to the man, as the
law requires, they appear to have taken the _exact-dimensions_ of the
passengers, and filled the vessel accordingly. The passengers refused to
let the captain weigh anchor, and sent a deputation on shore to demand
the return of their money; but lo! the disinterested gentlemen were “non
est inventus.” After a long search, they succeeded in finding one of the
worthies, and notwithstanding his disinterested efforts in behalf of the
_public_, he was locked up. The captain fearing personal violence, left
the vessel privately, and for several days was nowhere to be found. The
passengers, however, entered into a compromise with themselves, the
first on the list going on board. The mate informed the captain and they
were soon under way. The owner, who had been so persecutingly locked up,
having formerly been an operator in Wall street, resolved to slight the
hospitalities of the city, and took his leave when the barefooted
sentinel wasn’t looking.
One circumstance that added much to the annoyance of our detention was,
that the letters from our friends were all directed to San Francisco,
and were then lying in the letter-bags at Panama, but not accessible to
us. I felt this annoyance most sensibly. I would have given almost any
price for one word of intelligence from home. On returning one evening
from Gorgona I was informed by Mr. Pratt, my room-mate, that a gentleman
had called during my absence with a letter. I left the supper table to
go in search of him; some one knocked at the door; and imagine my
surprise and pleasure as Mr. D. Trembley, an old acquaintance from New
York was ushered into the room. He had letters for me dated two months
subsequent to my departure. He was accompanied by his brother, and I had
the pleasure of making the passage up the Pacific in their company.
The prospect, at this time, of getting passage to California was
extremely doubtful, and many returned to the States. During the latter
part of April, however, several vessels arrived in port, and were “put
up” for San Francisco. I had sent to New York for a steamer
ticket--which was due, but there being no steamer in port, and being
attacked with the fever, I was advised to leave at the earliest possible
moment. I secured passage in the ship “Niantic,” which was to sail on
the 1st of May. On the morning of that day bungoes commenced plying
between the shore and ship, which was at anchor some five miles out, and
at 4 P.M., all the passengers were on board. The captain was still on
shore, and there was an intense anxiety manifested. Many had come on
board in feeble health; some who had purchased tickets had died on
shore; many on board were so feeble that they were not expected to live.
I was one of the number; we all felt that getting to sea was our only
hope, and all eyes were turned toward shore, fearing the captain might
be detained. At half-past five his boat shoved off, when all on board
were electrified. As he neared the ship all who were able prepared to
greet him, and some, whose lungs had been considered in a feeble and
even precarious state, burst out into the most vociferous acclamations.
The captain mounted the quarter-deck and sung out, “Heave ahead,” when
the clanking of the chain and windlass denoted that our anchor was being
drawn from its bed. At half-past six the “Niantic” swung from her
moorings, and was headed for the mouth of the “Gulf of Panama.” Again
the shouts were deafening. No reasonable politician could have wished a
greater display of enthusiasm, and a nominee would consider his election
quite certain, whose pretensions were backed up by two hundred and
forty pairs of _such_ lungs. We had a light breeze and moored slowly
out--the lights of the city gradually settling below the horizon. As we
passed the islands an occasional light would appear and immediately
vanish. Soon all nature was shrouded in darkness, and with the exception
of an occasional creaking of the wheel, and a slight ripple at the prow,
everything was still.
In the morning we were running down along the coast of South America,
the captain wishing to cross the equator, in order to fall in with the
trade winds. We passed along very near the coast, having the Andes
constantly in view, some of the peaks towering up, their heads buried in
the blue ether of Heaven.
We were often saluted by whales, sometimes coming up near the ship,
throwing up a column of water, and passing under our keel, displaying to
us their gigantic dimensions. We would sometimes run into schools of
porpoises, extending almost to the horizon in every direction. We were
constantly followed by sharks, accompanied by their pilots--the latter a
most beautiful fish, from eight to twelve inches in length, striped in
white and grey. It seemed strange that they should have been created to
act as pilots to the “terror of the deep.” The shark is always
accompanid by one, and sometimes two or three. They generally swim a
little in advance, but sometimes nestle along on the back of their huge
master--as if to rest, and in case of emergency, are said to take refuge
in his mouth.
On the 6th we came in sight of “Chimborazo,” the highest peak of the
Andes, and the highest mountain on the western continent. It appears to
penetrate the very heavens. It was surmounted by belts or layers of
clouds, with sufficient space between to disclose the mountain. Below
and above the first belt there was vegetation, above the second
sterility, above the third, and towering on up, a covering of eternal
snow.
On the 12th we reached the Gallipagos islands, a group of volcanic
formation, directly under the equator. They are not inhabited by man,
but are the home of the terrapin. We passed very near, but as it was
almost sunset, we did not lower our boat. We crossed the equator, and
made one degree south latitude. Then standing west, in order to fall in
with the trade winds, we reached 110° west longitude. We then headed
north on our course to San Francisco, but there was no wind. We had a
calm for several days, accompanied with rain and mist. The weather was
excessively hot, causing everything on board to mildew. Our clothes,
boots, trunks, &c., were covered with mould. Those who were sick became
worse, and others were attacked. Our ship rolled about like a log,
without sufficient air to cause a ripple. There was a general uneasiness
manifested, and something foreboding in every face; all were indisposed;
we felt that there was a destitution of vitality in the atmosphere. On
the 6th of June one of the passengers was attacked with the ship-fever,
which immediately proved fatal. He died at three o’clock in the morning,
and at ten was brought out, sewed up in canvas, and laid upon the gang
plank. A bag of sand was tied to his feet, a prayer read, and, at the
signal, the end of the plank was raised, and he slid gently into his
grave. It being calm, we watched the spot until the last bubble had
risen to the surface. This was to us an afflicting scene; a gloom seemed
to rest upon every countenance. That one of our number should have been
taken away by a disease thought to be contagious, and one so malignant
in its character, gave rise to emotions of the most painful dejection.
The ship was immediately cleansed, disinfecting fluid was distributed
profusely, and we escaped the farther appearance of the disease.
Chapter Ninth.
STAND IN FOR SAN FRANCISCO--INDICATIONS OF LAND--THE COAST--ENTER
THE “GOLDEN GATE”--INNER BAY--SAN FRANCISCO--LUMPS OF GOLD--NOTES
OF ENTERPRISE--SURROUNDING SCENE--GAMBLING.
We soon fell in with the north-east trade winds, which carried us along
rapidly, causing us to make so much lee-way however, that on arriving at
38° north latitude, (the latitude of San Francisco), we were at 140°
west longitude. We then tacked ship and stood in for the coast of
California. We had baffling winds and calms for several days, but
falling in with the northwest trades, we were carried rapidly along, the
wind increasing until it blew a gale. This lasted for two days. The ship
laid over so that her main studding-sail boom touched the water, and on
the 1st July the gale carried away our gib. On the 3d, we discovered
weeds and logs floating in the water, indicating our proximity to land.
We take an observation, and ascertain that we are sixty miles from San
Francisco. This we ought to make by 8 o’clock the next morning. The
passengers are all engaged in packing up. The retorts, crucibles, gold
tests, pick-axes, shovels, and tin-pans, are put into a separate bag,
and laid on the _top_; each determined to be the first off for the
mines. Each one having conceived a different mode of keeping his gold,
one would exhibit an ingenious box with a secret lock, another, a false
bottom to his trunk, a fourth a huge belt, while a fifth was at work on
the fifteenth buckskin bag, each of 20 lbs. capacity. All were looking
to the glorious future with a faith that would have removed mountains,
particularly if they were suspected of having gold concealed underneath.
On the morning of the 4th, the sun rose in a cloud of mist. We were all
expectation and excitement. Some were at mast-head, others in the
shrouds, and all on the “_qui vive_” for land. The fog was so dense we
could not take an observation, but still stood in toward land. At 12
o’clock we felt a slight breeze, and the mist rose like a curtain,
displaying to our astonished vision the coast of California. A
simultaneous shout burst forth, and our very ship seemed to bound with
enthusiasm. We find by taking an observation that we are twenty miles
north of the entrance to the bay. We had a fair wind, and passed along
very near the coast, which is bold and rocky, rising and terminating in
the coast range of mountains, and in the back ground the famed “Sierra
Nevada,” (mountains of snow).
At 3 o’clock, P.M., we arrived off a bold rocky promontory, which is the
north point to the entrance of the outer bay of San Francisco, called
“De los Reys,” or King’s Point. We soon changed our course, standing in
for the entrance to the inner bay, some twenty miles distant. The air
was filled with geese, brant, loons, ducks, &c. We here saw the
hair-seal, somewhat resembling a tiger. They would come to the surface,
display themselves, and disappear. We saw, also, a very large whale
coming directly toward the ship, alternately diving and reappearing, and
the third time he came to the surface, he was quite near us. He threw up
a column of water, and diving headlong toward the bottom, threw his huge
tail into the air. Not wishing to come to anchor before morning, we
shortened sail, and all “_turned in_.”
In the morning we were a short distance from the “_Golden Gate_,” the
entrance to the inner bay, making for it with a fair breeze. A large
ship was abreast of us, making for the same point. A schooner spoke us,
and wished to pilot us in, but our captain not relishing California
price ($200), declined. The strait through which we were about to pass,
is an opening through the coast-range of mountains, about a mile in
width, and has the appearance of having been cut through by the action
of the inland waters. The capes at either side are bold, and that on the
right is fortified. We could not have made a more auspicious entrance.
It was a delightful morning, with a fresh breeze, and the tide rushing
in at eight knots. When we had made the entrance, we could see through
into the inner bay, directly in the centre of which is an island of
considerable elevation, which serves as a beacon to inward-bound
vessels. The passage in was entirely without interruption, and the
scene most enchanting. It seemed to us that the gates had been thrown
open, and we ushered in to view some fairy scene. At our left was the
little bay of “Saucelito” (Little Willow), where several vessels were
lying cosily under the bank, taking in water. Here is a small island,
inhabited only by sea-fowl--there a strait which is the mouth of the
Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers, beyond which the shore of the bay is
bold with mountains in the background. We still head toward the island
in the centre. At our right, the shore is bold, and still further on, a
point of considerable elevation juts out into the bay. The tide is still
bearing us along with headlong speed, and we are obliged to take in all
sail with the exception of the flying-jib. As we neared the point we
changed our course, making as near it as practicable, and, as we round
it, San Francisco is spread out before us, where rides a fleet of two
hundred sail. We feel that we have attained the acme of our ambition,
that we have really entered the “Golden Gates.” We pass along, and
passing several vessels, come to the United States man-of-war, “Gen.
Warren.” Our patriotism, at this particular time, was not of a nature to
be smothered into silence. We took off our hats, opened our mouths, and
it was soon evident that our lungs had lost none of their vigor by
exposure to the sea air. We passed most of the shipping, and finding a
convenient place our captain cried out “haul down the flying jib,” “let
go the anchor,” and our ship rounded to, as if willing to rest after a
run of sixty-five days.
We were immediately boarded by boatmen, and I was soon in a row-boat on
my way to the shore. On landing, my first move was for the post-office.
I had gone but a few paces in this city of strangers, before some one
called my name. I turned around; he did not recognize my six months’
beard, and apologized. I recognized him as a New York friend, and
assured him there was no offence, that I was the identical individual he
was looking for. I accompanied him to his store, where he exhibited
several specimens of gold, weighing twenty-seven ounces, twenty-five
ounces, and down to a single ounce. These were no unwelcome sight to me,
and served to stimulate the fever. My greatest anxiety, however, was to
hear from home, and with the least possible delay, I hurried to the post
office. I had heard from home but once in six months, and my anxiety
and pleasure can well be imagined, when, in answer to my inquiry, I was
handed a half-dozen letters. I went to a restaurant, read my letters,
ate a $3.50 beefsteak, and felt as rich as men are generally supposed
_to feel_ after a six months’ residence. I could neither get room nor
lodgings in town. Many of the business men, and all the transient
people, lived in tents. My tent was still on board the ship, and my
friend above spoken of, offered me the hospitalities of his own for the
night.
In the morning I took my writing-desk, and climbed to an eminence in the
vicinity of the city, to write to my friends at home. Seating myself
under a cluster of small trees which protected me from the sun, I
commenced, and, with the exception of an interval for dinner, spent the
day in writing. The scene around me was animated. Everything appeared to
be propelled by the most indomitable perseverance. The frame of a house
would be taken from the ship in the morning, and at night it was fully
tenanted. The clatter of the innumerable hammers, each answered by a
thousand echoes, seemed the music by which the city was being marshalled
into existence. Ships were constantly arriving; coming to anchor a mile
out, they would immediately disgorge their cargoes, which, taken by
lighters, were conveyed to the shore, and thrown into heaps, their
owners running about to contract for their immediate transportation into
the interior. Others were seen rowing off to vessels, which, after
receiving their complement of passengers, would weigh anchor and stand
for the strait, which is the joint mouth of the Sacramento and San
Joaquin Rivers.
Towards evening the scene became less animated, and the noise more
subdued. I could but look with admiration upon the heightened beauty of
the scene, as Nature was about to repose. A smile of approbation seemed
to play upon her countenance as she was taking the last view of this,
the perfection of her works.
The sun is almost down, tinging only some of the highest peaks of the
surrounding mountains. The city, extending from the bay up the left base
and side of the mountain, is about to cease her notes of enterprise, and
light her lamps. At the base, directly under my feet, is an encampment
of one hundred tents, occupied by Americans and Chilians. Two hundred
ships are lying at anchor, displaying their various ensigns, comprising
almost all the commercial nations of the world; and looming up
conspicuously in the offing, is the man-of-war, “Gen. Warren,” her
majestic appearance proclaiming the superiority of American naval
architecture. But the most striking feature in the scene is this
beautiful bay; surrounded by mountains which protect it from the winds,
it sleeps in perfect calm, the flood and ebb tide carrying vessels in
and out, at from seven to eight knots an hour. At this moment, although
the wind is blowing in the mountains, the bay is as placid as a mirror.
In the centre of the bay is a beautiful island, as if nature had set in
pearl one of her choicest emeralds. But “night has let her curtain down,
and pinned it with a star.” In the evening I strolled about with my
friends, and was surprised to see that all of the best houses on the
main streets were gambling houses. The rooms were brilliantly lighted,
and each contained several _monte_ tables, loaded with gold and silver
coin, together with many rich specimens from the mines. To allure their
victims, they were usually furnished with music, a bar, and an
interesting señorita to deal the cards. Gamblers understand that the
only _sure_ way of making a man courageous is to get him drunk,
consequently, at about every second dealing of the cards, all the
betters are “treated.” A man bets on a card and loses. His last drink is
beginning to effervesce, and, of course, he is too _shrewd_ to let the
gambler have his money. He doubles the bet, putting the money on the
same card, thinking that a card must, at least, win every other time. I
have noticed that gamblers are very considerate, always _managing_ to
throw out just the card the victim wishes to bet upon. Again he loses,
and again is “treated.” His courage is up: the third time _his_ card
must certainly win. The “deal” takes place, and, strange to say, _his_
card is turned up, and seems to say, in its very face that it is to win.
In order to win back his former losses, he stakes, this time, half his
purse. The other betters and bystanders now begin to manifest an
interest in the affair. The gambler now begins to draw the cards, and,
lo! the victim’s card don’t win. He is excited; he sees that others are
looking at him, and displays the greatest amount of courage by taking
another drink, and calling for another deal. Again _his_ card is turned
up. It cannot possibly lose four times in succession. He throws on his
entire purse. It is lost. He goes out penniless. Another _shrewd_ man
was standing by, betting small sums on the opposite card, and
consequently had won four times in succession. He had discovered the
remarkable _fact_, that the card opposite the above described unlucky
one, would _invariably_ win. He determined to make a fortune by his
discovery. The deal takes place, the unlucky card comes out, and he puts
a large sum on the _other_ one. The cards are drawn, and, strange as it
may seem, the _unlucky_ card wins. This appeared doubly strange to the
_shrewd_ man. He took another drink, and felt positive it could not
happen so again. Another deal, and the indefatigable _unlucky_ card is
again in the field. Again the shrewd man bets, and again the _unlucky_
card wins. The shrewd man displays as much courage as his predecessor,
and is soon prepared to leave in the same financial condition.