THE COMICAL STORY OF PIKE.
As soon as we were left to ourselves we built a roaring fire, in spite
of all Pike’s remonstrances. “It’s jist as good a thing as the Injuns
want,” said he. “It’s jist showin’ ’em whar we are. We’ll all lose our
skelps afore mornin’.”
When we began to think of supper, we found that we had played a little
joke on ourselves, in our hurry to get the other fellows away in order
to make sure of Pike. We had nothing in the shape of provision except a
few pounds of rice, which happened to be on Tom’s horse. We put some of
this into a gold-pan and boiled it, but it was rather poor eating
without either butter or salt. As we were sitting about the pan scooping
up this rice with knives and wooden paddles, Pike said: “I allers knowed
I didn’t like rice as well as I thought I did, and now I’m sure of it.”
But we had plenty of tobacco and what we lacked in “grub” we made up in
smoke. As soon as it grew dark Pike became very restless.
“What was that?” he would say. “Did you hear the rocks rattle upon the
hillside?” and he would peer out into the darkness.
Tom now began to sing as loud as he could roar:
“My name it is Joe Bowers, I’ve got a brother Ike,
I come from old Missouri, yes, all the way from Pike.”
“Stop singin’ so loud, Tom,” cried Pike in alarm. “Don’t!” But Tom
roared the louder—
“I’ll tell you why I left thar, and how I came to roam,
And leave my poor old mammy, so far away from home.”
“Tom! Tom! Good Lord don’t!” begged Pike.
“I used to love a gal thar, they called her Sally Black,
I axed her for to marry me, she said it was a whack,
But says she to me: ‘Joe Bowers, before we hitch for life,
You’d orter have a little home, to keep your little wife.’”
“If you’ve got a little home, Tom,” said Pike, “I wish to God you was
now in it!”
“Says I, ‘my dearest Sally, Oh! Sally for your sake,
I’ll go to Californy, and try to raise a stake.’”
“That thar’s a fool song,” said Pike, “and nobody but a fool would sing
it!”
“But one day I got a letter, from my dear brother Ike,
It came from old Missouri, sent all the way from Pike.”
“Whar I wish to the Lord I was now!” groaned Pike.
“It brought the goldarndedst news that ever you did hear,
My heart is almost bustin’, so pray excuse this tear,
It said my Sal was fickle, that her love for me had fled,
That she’d married with a butcher, whose har was orful red.”
“Thar’ll be butchers here ’fore long,” groaned Pike.
“It told me more than that, Oh! it’s enough to make one swear!
It said Sally had a baby, and the baby had red hair.”
“Now, cuss yer pictur!” said Pike, “yer done, air yer? I’ll bet thar’ll
be red har enough here before mornin’. Your singin’ has played thunder
with us, sure as thar’s wool on a nigger, but you’ll not have a bit on
the—”
“Top of his head, where the wool had orter be,” roared Tom.
Pike was now at his wits’ end, and went off a rod or two from the fire
and sat down by a dark clump of bushes, sullen and thoroughly disgusted.
Tom called out to him: “Say, Pike, are you loadin’ that revolver o’
your’n?” but Pike had the sulks and would not condescend to answer. It
was soon time to “turn in” for the night, and each man took his blankets
and sought the smoothest place to be found. Pike and one of our party
known as “Hank,” spread their blankets together at some distance from
the fire, which was now quite low, while the rest of us found places for
our beds among some willows.
[Illustration: THE STORY OF PIKE AND TOM.]
Pike lay awake a long time listening for Indians, and would rise to his
knees at the slightest sound, pulling the blankets off Hank, who was
trying to make him lie still, so that he could get to sleep. There was a
high hill on the east side of the cañon, covered on the side next to us
with shelly slate rock, and whenever a fox, coyote, or even a rat ran
over this it caused a great clatter, the scales of slate ringing like
pieces of pottery. This was a place fruitful of alarms and caused Pike
to be upon his knees about every five minutes, but about midnight he
could keep his eyes open no longer. Hank made the signal agreed upon, by
holding up his hat, when two of the boys crept cautiously out of the
camp with six-shooters in their hands. By following up a little ravine
they were able to gain the summit of the slaty hill without making the
slightest noise, as there was no loose rock except on the slope.
Presently they started down the slope through the loose rock, leaping
and making as much noise as though old Winnemucca and half the Piute
tribe were coming down the mountain. At the same time they began yelling
and firing their revolvers. At the first racket made on the hill Pike
was on his feet and came running toward us, who were returning the fire
of the supposed Indians, and yelling as we fired, making altogether
enough noise for half a dozen small battles. When Pike reached us two or
three of our men fell, crying out that they were killed, and at the same
time Hank fell and caught him about the legs, crying: “I’m wounded.
Carry me off and hide me in the bushes!”
“Let go of me, Hank, there’s five hundred of ’em comin’!”
“I’ll never let go of you,” said Hank. “Carry me off!”
Pike then lifted Hank who was groaning at a terrible rate, and carrying
him about two rods, pitched him, neck and heels, into a clump of thorny
bushes. This done, Pike rushed down the cañon at the speed of an
antelope. Tom rolled on the ground and laughed until he almost smothered
himself. “I’m even with Pike on the prickly-pear business!” cried he, as
soon as he was able to speak, “he shall never hear the last of this
Injun fight!” For my part, now that the fun was all over, I began to
feel quite miserable over the whole affair. I feared that in his great
fright Pike might dash his brains out against a tree or break his neck
among the rocks. I firmly resolved never to take part in another affair
of the kind, calling to mind several sham fights and other deviltry in
California that had been attended by fatal results to the victims.
In the morning we were ready for a start at sunrise. The first thing I
saw was Pike’s hat, lying near the place where he had spread his
blankets the night before. The sight gave me quite a shock, as it seemed
to be the hat of a dead man. I soon found that the others were beginning
to feel much as I did about the matter, for, as Pike’s blankets were
being rolled up to be packed on Tom’s horse, one of the boys said: “I
hope nothing has happened to Pike.” Another said: “O, he’s all right!”
but at the same time it was easy to see that the speaker feared that he
was not “all right.”
As we passed down the cañon, I could not help thinking that we should
presently find Pike lying wounded or already dead in some rocky pit or
pile of boulders near the trail, and most of our party looked quite
solemn. The man who carried Pike’s hat looked as though he were in a
funeral procession, carrying a portion of the corpse. At length we were
through the cañon, and having reached the level plain without finding
Pike’s remains, we all felt quite jolly again and immediately set to
work and planned another surprise for him, when we should find him.
Instead of fording the river, as we had done in going out, we went some
two miles further down and crossed at a ferry. We inquired of the
colored man in charge if anyone had crossed during the night. He assured
us that no one had crossed, as he found the boat tied up on the west
bank, as he had left it the evening before.
We now knew that Pike must have crossed at the ford and again began to
feel uneasy, fearing that reaching the river in a state of exhaustion,
he had plunged in and had been swept under by the current. One of two
things was certain: he was either safe across, or was drowned, as the
Mississippi itself would not have stayed his flight. On turning into the
main street of Chinatown we came suddenly upon a group of men with minie
muskets in their hands and in their midst stood Pike, with a
handkerchief tied about his head. He had a musket in his hand and was
the centre of attraction. We could see that he was telling those about
him of the dreadful affair of the previous night. All those surrounding
him were listening so intently that we approached without being
observed. Pike was just saying: “Yes; Hank may be alive. I carried him
about two miles on my back, with the red cusses yellin’ at my heels,
then laid him down and kivered him up with brush. But all the rest—”
Here Pike turned and saw our party. His jaw dropped, and his eyes almost
started from their sockets.
“Well, what of the rest?” said one of his auditors.
“Why, my God! they are all here!” said Pike. “There they all stand!”
The crowd now turned to us, and began to ask: “Who was killed?” “Were
there many Indians?” and many other like questions. Not a word of this,
however, could we be made to understand. We had seen no Indians; we had
never dreamed of any danger from Indians. The whole crowd at once turned
to Pike for an explanation. Some of the men hinted that unless he gave a
pretty satisfactory explanation of his strange stories he would get into
trouble. Pike was thunderstruck and gazed at us with a look of utter
helplessness. At last he stammered: “Tom, wasn’t you killed?”
“If I was killed I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
“I thought I saw you fall,” and Pike’s face wore the most puzzled look
imaginable. His fingers sought the yellowish tuft of hair on his chin
and gazing at one and another of us he sighed: “I don’t understand it
all.”
“We none of us understand it,” said one of the crowd, sneeringly.
“All here—all here!” said Pike, his countenance wearing the look of an
insane person.
“Pike,” said I, “you must have dreamt all this about Indians.”
Pike’s face brightened for a moment, but soon resumed its old look of
despair. “No, no,” said he, “no dream. I saw them all killed.”
“But, Pike, look at us; we are all here—all alive and well!”
Pike looked vacantly about him at the boys, and said: “Yes, I know, but
I don’t understand it at all.”
“Well,” said I, “all there is about it is that you were dreaming and
suddenly rose up shouting ‘Injuns! Injuns!’ and before we could stop
you, you ran away down the cañon.”
“Yes,” said Pike, “it must have been a dream. You are all here—it must
have been a dream. But it don’t seem that way at all.”
“Don’t seem what way?”
“Why, the way you tell it.”
“Well, how does it seem. Let us hear you tell it. Let us have your
dream.”
“Give us the dream! Let’s have yer dream!” cried the crowd.
“Well, you see I was a layin’ thar in my blankets—But I’ll be dogoned ef
I believe I did dream it!” cried Pike. “I can almost hear the guns crack
now!”
“Of course you dreamt it. Ain’t we all here?”
“Yes; I know. But how did I act—what did I do?”
“Why, I’ve just told you all you did. You know that after you went to
bed you was bouncing up on your knees every five minutes, and at last
you bounced up and took to your heels.”
“Yes; I know I was a little oneasy like. I kept a-hearin’ somethin’
rattle up on that hill, so I kinder kept on my guard like.”
“Well, let us have the dream,” all again cried.
“Well,” began Pike, “at first I was a-dreamin’ along kinder nice and
easy like, when all at once I heard the rocks clatter—I mean I thought I
heard ’em clatter. Then bang, bang! pop, pop! went the guns, and O! sich
yells—sich yells! I thought my hair riz straight on end, and I seed
more’n five hundred Injuns, all a-hoppin’ down the hill like turkeys.
All this time I thought that you fellers was a blazin’ away at about two
hundred of ’em that was all round you, and about five hundred on the
hill. Then I thought I grabbed up a pick and went right inter the thick
of the cusses and fit and fit till I’d wore out the pick, and then fit a
long time with the handle. By this time I thought you fellers was all
killed and I thought I’d git up and dust. But jist then I thought that
Hank got holt round my legs and said he was wounded, and wouldn’t let go
of me ’thout I’d carry him off. I thought I tuck him on my back and
carried him ’bout four miles, and hid him in some brush. Then I thought
I run on and waded across the river—”
“No, no! you didn’t dream that! You did actually wade across the river.”
“Well, then what part of it did I dream? Can anybody tell me that?” and
poor Pike looked more puzzled than ever.
“You must have waded the river, you know, or you would not be here.”
“Well, yes; I s’pose I did, but that don’t seem a bit plainer, nor
hardly half as plain as the shootin’ and yellin’ part. That was the
dogonest plainest dream I ever did hev!”
“Yet, as we are all here, alive and well; it must have been a dream?”
“Oh, yes, it was a dream, sartain and sure, but what gits me was its
bein’ so astonishin’ plain—jist the same as bein’ wide awake!”
Pike continued to tell his dream for some years, constantly adding new
matter, till at last it was a wonderful yarn. He enlarged greatly on the
part he took in the fight, and after wearing out the pick on the skulls
of the Indians, wound up by thrusting the handle down the throat of a
brave, as his last act before beating a retreat. Tom more than once told
him the truth about the whole affair, bringing in half a dozen of the
“boys” to corroborate what he said, but not a word of it would Pike
believe.
“Do you think,” he would say, “that I was fool enough to believe that
sich things actually happened? No, it was all a dream from fust to last,
and the biggest and plainest dream I ever had!”
The account I have given of our prospecting trip is a fair sample of all
such expeditions—though this trip “panned out” rather more than the
usual amount of deviltry. Parties of men frequently travel two or three
hundred miles to prospect a certain region, and when they reach it,
merely scratch about on the surface for a day or two and if nothing is
then found they curse the place and strike out for some other section,
when the same surface scratching is repeated. With prospectors the “big
thing” is always just ahead, never in the place where they are. Of
course good miners are frequently found, but in nine cases out of ten a
prospecting trip results about as did the little scout given above.
When we were prospecting there were things worth looking after, but we
did not pay any attention to them. We saw in the cañon abundant
indications of coal, but we were looking for gold alone. The coal, the
croppings of which we saw, is now being extracted by a company and their
mine is one of great value. Near where we camped while prospecting in
the cañon now stand the steam-hoisting works of the coal company. It may
look as though we did very little work for a prospecting party, but I
have known a party of men to travel three hundred miles without having
washed a pan of dirt; half the time they did not even dismount from
their horses when looking at mining ground. Large parties do less work
than small ones, as they can never agree in regard to where they are to
set in or what is to be done. If one or two men wish to stop and
prospect, the others are pretty sure to say: “Confound the place! there
is nothing there. I know by the looks of the ground that it is of no
account,” and so the whole party moves on, and a _good_ place in which
to set to work is never found.
A majority of those who go on prospecting expeditions do not want to
find a place where there is going to be much hard work to be done. They
prefer rambling through the country and viewing new and curious sights
to sinking shafts and running tunnels. If they can’t find gold or silver
in rock that shows itself on the surface, they continue to travel. The
novelty of delving in the earth for the precious metals has long since
passed away in the case of the old miner or prospector. New-comers—known
as “pilgrims” or “greenhorns”—are much more likely to do real work when
on a prospecting trip than any of the old miners. In the case of the
pilgrim there is a fascination in the bare fact that he is digging for
silver or gold which drives him on and lends strength to his muscle.
THE GREAT FIRE.
[OCTOBER, 1875.]
Many large fires have at various times swept through Virginia City, but
the greatest and most destructive that ever occurred in the town was
that of October 26, 1875. At 6 o’clock on the morning of that day a fire
started in a little wooden lodging-house on A street, in the western
part of the town, which in a few hours destroyed all the buildings
standing on an area of ground half a mile square, in the heart of the
city. Most of the public buildings and the hoisting-works, and many
other buildings of the bonanza mines, were burned. In all, property to
the value of over $10,000,000 was swept away. About two thousand
buildings were reduced to ruins, and hundreds of persons left homeless
and destitute.
The fire started at an hour when few persons were abroad. Only the
butchers, bakers, marketmen, and other early risers were astir. The
“owls” of the city, birds of prey that haunt the place all night, had
disappeared with the grey of dawn and were in their first deep sleep;
the time was an hour too early for the change of shifts in the mines,
therefore at no other time, day or night, could the streets have been
found more completely deserted.
When the first fire-bells rang few persons heeded, even though they
heard them. Soon, however, the mournful and long-drawn wail of one
steam-whistle after another, in quick succession, was heard to join in
sounding the alarm till the fierce clangor of the bells was almost
drowned. The bells, loudly as they rang, only said: “There is a fire,”
but in the fierce, wild shriek of the whistles there was that which
thrilled all, and which said as though with a human voice: “There is a
fire, and a great and most dangerous one!” In the sounding of the
whistles it was to be noted that there was no hesitation or timidity
anywhere shown; each engineer pulled open the valve of his whistle to
its full extent, at the first grasp of his hand.
The fire started in the midst of scores of wooden buildings, and seemed
to dart above all the surrounding roofs at the first bound. In addition
to their being constructed of wood, nearly the whole of the buildings in
the neighborhood were lined with cotton cloth, on which was pasted
paper, as on a plastered wall. The partitions dividing the room, and the
ceilings of all the rooms, were also constructed of muslin and
wall-paper. Hardly a drop of rain had fallen during the preceding summer
months, and the whole town was as inflammable as scorched flax.
Almost instantly the column of fire that was at first seen to arise
began to assume the form of a pyramid. The base of this pyramid rapidly
extended into the sides of houses in all directions—the glass falling in
showers from the windows to give ingress to the flames—and structure
after structure burst out in sheets of fire more rapidly than could be
counted or noted down. Shouts of men and women rang through the halls of
all the large hotels and lodging-houses in the neighborhood, and loud
rappings, to arouse the sleepers, were heard at the doors of rooms.
Nearer the scene of the fire, persons of all ages, both sexes, and every
condition were fleeing for their lives in all stages of dress and all
manner of undress. Many of those nearest the building in which the fire
broke out had only time to leap from their beds and rush into the
streets, as their houses were wrapped in fire before they were aware of
their danger.
At the time the fire burst forth a fierce gale was blowing from the
west. This carried great sheets of wall-paper, blazing shingles, and a
great shower of fiery missiles of all kinds high into the air and far to
the eastward, kindling fresh fires in advance of the main roaring mass
of flame. The main body of the fire streamed before the gale as fierce
as the flame from a blow-pipe. It stopped for nothing. It was seen
resting against the side of a stone or brick building for a minute, then
black smoke began to roll up through the roof, and a moment after the
smoke became flame—flame that joined the main stream and darted on and
through all that stood in its way.
Many of the buildings destroyed were such as had always been thought
fire-proof; but they fell before the fire as quickly as though they had
been the commonest of wooden structures. There was apparently much fire
in the midst of the streets as within the buildings; indeed the whole
air seemed on fire. Water thrown into the midst of the flames produced
no effect unless, as many thought, it added to their fury and
fierceness. Although the firemen were at work with both hand-engines and
steamers, while yet but few buildings were involved, the water they
threw upon the burning buildings might as well have been as much oil,
for any effect it had in checking the flames. The firemen were driven
back from every point where they attempted to make a stand, and it soon
became evident that no efforts of theirs could check the progress of the
fire. It was such a fire as that which swept Chicago and Boston—a fire
as fierce and uncontrollable as though belched up from the bottomless
pits of the lower regions.
When it was seen that the fire was wholly beyond control, that it must
take its own course and burn its way out through the city, the wildest
confusion ensued. It was as when a beaten army begins its retreat. All
took what they could conveniently carry in their hands, those things
they most prized, and fell back out of the track of the fire. Men,
women, and children thus leaving their homes, and house after house
being thus deserted, a great human wave was pushed back on all sides
toward the suburbs of the city. Hundreds moved their goods again and
again, each time losing something, until at last they found themselves
driven far up on the open face of the mountain, empty-handed, panting
for breath, and parched with thirst. While the whole face of the
mountain seemed a sea of fire, with great billows tossing to and fro,
the sounds that reached the ear were as fearful as the scene spread
before the eye. From the armories of the various military companies,
from the gunsmith shops and from many of the variety-stores, there came
a constant roar of exploding cartridges, guns, pistols, fire-crackers,
bombs, rockets, and all manner of fireworks, sounding like the steady
discharge of small arms in a great battle. Amid and above all this din
were heard the frequent and startling discharges of giant-powder,
gunpowder, and Hercules powder, as building after building was blown up
in various parts of the town.
As the fire began to approach the great mining-works these heavy reports
became more frequent and terrific. The miners carried into buildings,
not a few cartridges only of the powerful explosives they were using,
but whole boxes of them, and when these were fired they seemed to shake
Mount Davidson from base to peak. By the blowing up of buildings, and by
almost superhuman exertions at carrying water and wetting the roofs and
sides of houses, the progress of the fire was stayed at a few important
points, and a great amount of valuable property saved that would
otherwise have been destroyed; yet, in the main, the flames held their
course through the heart of the town.
Thus in a few short hours was swept away the best part of what at dawn
had been a fair city—a city filled with elegant and comfortable homes,
handsome and costly public buildings, large stores, packed with all
manner of valuable goods, and mills and mining-works the most complete
of the kind in the whole world. All these were licked from the face of
the mountain, and but a wilderness of toppling walls and smoking ruins
showed where they had been.
This great fire was started in a low lodging-house kept by a woman known
as “Crazy Kate”—Kate Shea—by the breaking of a coal-oil lamp in a
drunken row, as is asserted by those who occupied the adjoining houses.
In its march to the eastward down the slope of the mountain, the
Court-house was the first large public building that was destroyed; the
building and rooms of the Washoe Club, filled with elegant furniture and
costly paintings, was the next to fall. Devouring at a gulp a score of
smaller buildings, the International Hotel, the principal hotel of the
city and a huge brick structure, filled with stores, saloons, and other
places of business on its first floors, was soon reached by the flames
and became a volcano of fire. About the same time, further to the
southward, the Bank of California, the _Enterprise_ (newspaper)
building, and many large brick and stone structures, from three to five
stories in height, were vomiting fire from every window and door from
roof to basement. Soon Piper’s Opera House, a huge frame building, like
some great fire-ship was spreading terror through the neighborhood;
while to the right and southward the Methodist, Catholic, and Episcopal
Churches were towering pillars of fire, with seas of fire below and
about them. To the left and northward the freight and passenger depôts
of the Virginia and Truckee Railroad Company, with many smaller
buildings, were pouring great streams of fire to the eastward into the
hoisting-works of the Consolidated Virginia Mining Company, which in
turn, with over a million feet of lumber, sent a broad river of flame
into and over the big mill of the company—a mill the most costly and
complete then in operation in any part of the world. Not only this mill,
but also the California stamp mill, near at hand, was here swept away.
The buildings of the new “C and C” (California and Consolidated
Virginia) shaft were saved through the most strenuous exertions of many
miners, and after blowing up many houses.
To the northward at this time, the City Hall and scores of large and
costly private residences were wallowing in a lake of flames, which lake
overflowing on the east, inundated the several buildings constituting
the works of the Ophir Mining Company, sweeping them from the face of
the earth. Building after building was hurled hundreds of feet into the
air to prevent the fire reaching these works, but nothing stayed its
advance. Shattered buildings seemed to burst into flames in mid-air and
their wrecks served but as trains laid to lead the fire more surely to
the doomed works.
At times great whirlwinds came down the side of the mountain and waltzed
about in the midst of the burning buildings, carrying spiral columns of
flame and fiery missiles thousands of feet into the air. The tops of
some of these pillars of fire were seen by persons fifteen or twenty
miles away. An Indian who was on the opposite side of Mount Davidson,
and on the west side of Washoe Valley, at the foot of the Sierra Nevada
Mountains, fifteen miles distant, observed one of these whirlwinds of
fire, which he said “looked like an augur,” and started for the city to
see what had befallen it. Jonah-like he wanted to see whatever trouble
there might be in store for the place. He reached the top of Mount
Davidson in time to see the churches all aflame. A grand view of the
burning town he must have had from the top of the mountain!
At first, while but a few houses were on fire, there was heard some
wailing among the half-dressed women and children, but as block after
block became involved, the ruin being wrought was on a scale so grand
that the excitement and terror of the scene forbade all thought of
anything so small that tears could prove a solace for its loss.
When all was over, the people for a time seemed stupefied, or rather
drunk, with the excitement of the day, and it was almost night before
many of them remembered that they were without homes. All the houses
left standing were soon filled; many young men, who could do so, went by
rail to neighboring towns, while, for one or two nights, persons camped
out on the sides of the hills—the school-houses and other public
buildings remaining being filled to overflowing. The next morning after
the fire, relief came pouring in from all quarters, for over two
thousand buildings were destroyed, and hundreds of people were left
homeless and destitute. Carson City sent two or three car-loads of
provisions, ready cooked, early the next morning after the fire, to
supply the immediate wants of the sufferers, and San Francisco and other
towns and cities of California, at once telegraphed money and started
clothing, blankets, bedding, and provisions over the Sierras, by
express. A Relief Committee was organized in the city, and similar
committees in San Francisco and other towns and cities of the Pacific
Coast, and soon all the sufferers were made as comfortable as shelter,
food, and clothing could make them. All the towns of Nevada and
California contributed as generously as though their own people had been
in distress, and San Francisco was untiring in her efforts for the
relief of the sufferers as though the people of Virginia were her own
sons and daughters. But two persons are known to have perished in the
flames, though there were scores of narrow escapes. After the fire two
or three men were killed by falling walls.
The insurance on the property amounted to $2,500,000, and this, with
what many had left in money, stocks, and other kinds of property, joined
with stout hearts and unlimited faith in the inexhaustible wealth of the
mines, gave all courage to set to work at re-establishing themselves.
To rebuild the town was the one thought of all. The next morning after
the fire the work of cooling down and clearing away the ruins of
buildings was in progress in hundreds of places; lumber was coming in by
rail and was being hauled up on the still smoking ground. From that time
forward the work went on almost day and night, and in all kinds of
weather. A week after the fire a tornado blew down and demolished a
great number of the newly erected and partially completed wooden
buildings, but the moment the storm ceased the wrecks were cleared away
and building was again resumed. The mining companies whose works were
destroyed showed undaunted spirit and indomitable energy. The
Consolidated Virginia Mining Company’s hoisting-works and mill, and the
California Mining Company’s stamp mill, were a loss of over a million
dollars at one fell swoop.
The Consolidated Virginia hoisting work’s assay-office, 1,250,000 feet
of lumber and timbers, 800 cords of wood and the stock of mining
supplies on hand was a loss of $800,000.
The loss by the burning of the Consolidated Virginia mill was $431,000;
battery mill of the California Company, $80,000; hoisting-works and
building of the Ophir Company $150,000; a total loss to the bonanza
mines of $1,461,000. Large as were the losses of the several mining
companies they had hundreds of men at work the day after the fire at
clearing away the still burning ruins preparatory to immediate
rebuilding. There was not a moment’s hesitation.
In November the Consolidated Virginia Company declared their usual
dividend (No. 19), of $10 per share on their capital stock, aggregating
$1,080,000; and again in December a dividend (No. 20), amounting to the
same great sum was declared. Thus did this Crœsus of mining companies
pay out to stockholders the princely sum of $2,160,000 during the time
they were engaged in the costly business of rebuilding their works and
filling them with expensive machinery. That they could do this must seem
incredible to persons unacquainted with the almost inexhaustible
deposits of rich ore in the bonanza mines.
The withholding of one of these dividends would have furnished more than
enough money to have rebuilt both hoisting-works and mill, but having
millions in sight in the lower levels of the mine which could be rapidly
taken out when once the works were again running, the company gave the
stockholders their regular dividends, just as though nothing had
happened. The California Company had both their stamp-mill and their
pan-mill almost completed and in a short time, but for the fire, would
have been extracting ore. Their pan-mill (an improvement on the big mill
of the Consolidated Virginia Company), one of the finest in existence,
was saved, being nearly half a mile to the eastward of the mine and the
scene of the fire. The shafts of the Ophir and Consolidated Virginia
mines were blocked up and filled in with earth about their mouths when
it was seen that the buildings covering them were doomed to destruction,
yet the fire worked its way some distance down the latter and was with
difficulty extinguished. Had the fire reached the immense masses of
timbers in the underground works it would perhaps have gone through the
whole of the mines on the northern part of the Comstock range, when the
loss would have been many times greater than that of all that was
destroyed on the surface, counting in all that was swept away in the
town as well as on and about the mines.
In San Francisco the wildest excitement prevailed on California Street
and, indeed, in all parts of the city as soon as it become generally
known that a great fire was raging in Virginia City, and that the
mining-works were in danger. Those who first received news of the fire
did not make it public, but began selling their stocks on the street.
Ophir, which closed at $52.75 on Monday evening, October 25, was
offered, Tuesday morning, October 26, at $50, and considerable amounts
of the stock were sold at this figure. As the news spread all stocks
fell, and before the panic ended Ophir sold as low as $36 per share, but
before night rallied to $41. Thousands upon thousands of shares of
stocks were sold on California Street (the grand rallying place for
dealers in stocks) before the Stock-Boards opened, the street being a
surging mass of pale-faced and excited humanity. In the San Francisco
Board, when the calling of the list of stocks began the place instantly
became a perfect bedlam.
In the evening, when the full extent of the damage done by the fire had
reached San Francisco, the people became quiet and began to gain
courage. They reasoned that although the surface-works of the leading
companies had been destroyed the mines were still there and as rich as
the day before the fire; that the resumption of the extraction of ore
was only a matter of time and all would be going on as usual in from
forty to sixty days. Finally all retired for the night, greatly
reassured, and the terrible panic was over. The people of San Francisco
were correct in their estimate of the energy of the men who were at the
head of the affairs of the mining companies—Col. James G. Fair and John
Mackey, of the Consolidated Virginia and California, and Capt. S. T.
Curtis, of the Ophir. In less than thirty days new buildings stood in
the place of those that had been burned, both at the Consolidated
Virginia and Ophir mines; and on Thanksgiving Day, just thirty days
after the fire, the hoisting engine of the latter was started up amid
the rejoicings of some hundreds of persons who had collected at the
works, and (merely to be able to say that it was done) a few car-loads
of ore were hoisted from the 1,300 foot level, though the business of
regularly hoisting ore was not resumed until after the starting of the
large pump and the proper draining of the mine, some time afterwards.
Before the expiration of the sixty days allowed (by close calculators at
the time of the fire) for the rebuilding of the Consolidated Virginia
hoisting-works, they were not only put up in better style in all
respects than before the fire, but they were again taking out ore at the
rate of over $1,500,000 per month. The Ophir Company were also soon
after hoisting ore as before the fire, and ere long the work of
extracting the vast stores of immensely rich ore (hitherto untouched)
standing in great squares in the mine of the California Company was
begun, giving full employment to the splendid mill of that company and,
with the yield from the Consolidated Virginia, adding $3,000,000 per
month to the hard-money wealth of the world.
In order to guard against a recurrence of such a calamity as that
described in this chapter, the people of Virginia City at once set about
the construction of a series of large reservoirs upon the side of the
mountain above their town which, with a proper system of mains and
hydrants, should afford them better protection against fire than they
had ever before enjoyed. In sixty days after the fire the principal
streets running through the burnt districts were again lined with
business houses, the majority of which were of a better class than those
destroyed, and dwellings once more covered what a few weeks before a
good deal resembled the bottomless pit. The gap left in the city by the
fire was again filled, and was not readily distinguished by strangers,
except by its striking resemblance to a new patch placed on a pair of
old pantaloons.
But for the Virginia and Truckee Railroad all this work could not have
been done in a year. Indeed it would have taken the whole winter, with
all the teams that could be pressed into the service, to have hauled
from the mills in the mountains sufficient lumber to rebuild the
mining-works alone. Nearly all of those whose homes were destroyed would
have been obliged to seek shelter in California, and it would have been
a difficult matter to bring in enough provisions and other supplies to
comfortably keep such as remained in those parts of the city left
intact.
The Railroad Company not only poured into the city an unbroken stream
of lumber, timbers, and supplies of all kinds for the use of the
mining companies and citizens, but at the same time did a vast amount
of work for themselves. Their depôt buildings, trestle-work, bridges,
switches, the timbers of a tunnel, track, and, in short, all of their
improvements in the city were destroyed. All these were replaced and
at the same time all the other work done. Trains ran day and night—as
many as forty-five trains passing over this road some days—and thus was
the great work of rebuilding so speedily accomplished that a new town
seemed to spring up out of the ground.
THE END.
APPENDIX.
MEXICAN MINING TERMS.
_Agua_—Water.
_Acciones_—Shares in a mine.
_Ahogar_—To gouge out a mine by working narrow and only in rich places.
_Ademada_—Timbered.
_Abonar_—To pay a debt by instalments.
_Azogue_—Quicksilver.
_Aire_—Air.
_Bonanza_—A large and rich body of ore—prosperity.
_Borrâsca_—Barren rock—bad luck—adversity.
_Bartolina_—A chamber cut out in a mine in which to keep tools and
stores.
_Barranca_—A precipice.
_Barretero_—A miner.
_Barrena_—A drill.
_Batea_—A wooden bowl used in washing auriferous earth.
_Buena saca_—Doing well.
_Contro-pozo_—An “upraise” to meet a winze.
_Contra Mina_—An underground connection.
_Charqueo interior_—To lead water to a drain.
_Cavallo_—A “horse”—a block of barren rock in the midst of a body of
ore.
_Cinta_—A streak of ore.
_Chorrerra_—A cave—the caving in of a mine.
_Cavassos_—Borings—drillings.
_Cavasal_—A cross-piece—timber.
_Calabrote_—A large rope.
_Cabreste_—A hair rope—a line.
_Canada_—A deep ravine, gulch.
_Cuarzo_—Quartz.
_Cascajo_—Gravel.
_De Cielo_—The roof—working overhead.
_De Pied_ or _a Pique_—Beneath the floor—sinking, or working down.
_Derotada_—Gutted, spoiled and abandoned.
_Dispacho_ or _Dispensa_—An ore-house.
_Destajo_—A contract.
_El Cordon_—A ridge or spur of a mountain.
_El Creston_—A crest or outcropping.
_El Rumbo_—The course.
_El Manto_—(mantada)—A flat deposit.
_Escabar_—To strip a claim on the surface merely.
_El Tajo abierto_—An open cut.
_El Socabon_—An adit.
_El Tiro general_—The main shaft.
_El Crucero_—A cross-cut.
_El Fronton_—An ore breast.
_El Alto_—The hanging wall.
_El Abajo_—The foot wall.
_El Patio_—The level space at the mouth of a mine or tunnel.
_Echardero_—A platform for weighing, sorting, or packing ore on. A
Patio of a mine.
_En Frutos_—In ore.
_En Borra_ (_Emborrescade_, _Borrasca_)—Not in pay ore—“petered
out”—applied to the barrenness of veins, not to dead work, as a
tunnel run to reach a vein.
_Fundido_—Filled with water.
_Fueros_—Special privileges.
_Guardas de Labor_—Roof and walls of a mine in general.
_Grantio_—Granite.
_Hilos_—Threads of ore.
_Hundido_—A settling or sinking.
_Las Sierras_—Mountains or mountain ranges.
_La Guia_—A guide, or the float rock.
_La Recuesta_—The dip.
_Las Medias_—The boundary lines of a claim as marked by _Las Escatas_,
stakes, or _Estacada_, staked off.
_Las Guardas Rayas_—Monuments of wood or stone.
_La Demasia_ or _Hueco_—The unclaimed ground between two claims.
_La Bocca-vieja_—The mouth—the old mouth.
_La Obra_—The tunnel—the work.
_La Lumbrera_—The air shaft.
_Las Canones_—The drifts.
_La Cata_—A small pit—a “coyote hole.”
_La Tabla_—A stope.
_La Patia_—A narrow footpath in a mine.
_Las Respaldas_—The walls of a mine.
_Los Caminos_—The travelled roads in a mine of any kind.
_Los Planes_—The deepest workings or bottom of a mine.
_Los Pilares_—The pillars of a mine—place of timbers—to “_dispilar_” a
mine is to dig down the pillars.
_Las Desagues_—The drains of a mine.
_Las Escaleras_—The notched stepping poles or ladders in a mine.
_La Tronada_—The rocks thrown down by a blast.
_Los Llavis_—Beams, timbers.
_Latones_—Small poles.
_La Quebrada_—A ravine.
_Maderas_—All kinds of wood used in a mine for any purpose.
_Mecati_—A small line.
_Minero_—A miner.
_Nivel_—A level.
_Obsa muerta_—Dead work.
_Orcones_—Forked poles.
_Oro_—Gold.
_Oro en polvo_—Gold dust.
_Oro en pasta_, _bruto_ or _virgen_—Gold bullion.
_Presa_—A dam.
_Pileta_—A sump or tank.
_Paradera_—Sluice-gates.
_Pico_—A pick.
_Pala_—A shovel.
_Polvora_—Powder.
_Plata_—Silver.
_Plata virgen_ or _brulo_—A rude mass of silver—native silver.
_Pizarra_—Slate rock.
_Puertas_—When a vein pinches—“cap rock.”
_Pied direcho_—A stud.
_Pedregal_—A stony place.
_Roca_—A rock.
_Risco_—A steep rock.
_Reata_—A rope for tying mules or horses.
_Suffocante_—Hot, bad air.
_Terrero_—A pile of waste rock.
_Un Mineral_—A mining district.
_Una Veta_—A lode or ledge—a true fissure vein.
_Una Veta tapada_—A “blind” ledge or lode—a lode that is covered with
soil.
_Una Vena_—A vein—a narrow seam or streak.
_Una Pertinencia_—A claim on a lode. (By the Mexican mining law it is
_200 Varas ie Medin_—200 yards running measure. A _vara_ is 33
inches.)
_Un Pozo_—A shaft, pit, or winze.
_Un Labor_—Any part of a mine from which ore is being extracted.
_Un Claro_—Any worked out portion of a mine.
_Un Tapextle_—A landing or platform in a shaft—a gallery.
_Un Quarton_—A slip or “fault” which cuts off the ore.
_Un Clavo_—A chimney of ore.
_Un Amparo_—A permit from the Government to quit work on a mine for any
time beyond the customary four months in each year.
_Un Ojo_—A “pocket.”
_Una Bonanza_—A big rich strike.
_Una Caida_—A fall—a slide.
_Un Barreno_—A drill-hole.
_Un Cohete_—A blast.
_Un Tequio_—A task—each cleaner’s pile of ore.
_Una Adema_—A set of timbers.
_Un Malacate_—A horse whim.
_Una Manesuela_, _Argans_, _Hicho bueno_—A windlass.
_Una Soga_—A native rope.
_Un Negocio_—An enterprise, transaction, or business.
_Veta Cata_—A new vein.
_Vapor_—Foul air.
_Ventilacion_—Ventilation.
_Ventilar_—To Ventilate.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Transcriber’s Note
The list of illustrations, though numbered consecutively, are somewhat
disordered.
Illustration #43 (“Rhode Island Mill, Gold Hill”) at p. 222 is
listed _after_ #42 (“Wood and Water”) on p. 227.
Illustration #44 (“Resicence of Hon. J. P Jones”), also referring to
p. 222 is simply missing.
Illustration #46 (“Lumbering on Lake Tahoe”) consists of two
drawings with the first “Log Riding:” not appearing in the list.
Illustration #80 (“The Hottest Place”) appears at p. 449, not p.
459.
In the Table of Contents,
Chapter XXXV appears at p. 259, not p. 261.
Chapter LIII appers at p. 397, not p. 497.
By far the most common error was finding a comma or no punctuation at
all at the end of a sentence: California[,/.] (69.5), understanding[.]
(71.12), curiosity[.] (73.37), satisfactory[.] (78.35), runaways[,/.]
(79.8), there[,/.] (83.12), out[,/.] (84.9), rascality[,/.] (84.13),
here[,/.] (84.35), explanation[,/.] (94.31), white[.]) (112.1),
neighborhood[,/.] (167.12), particles[./,] (173.31), shaft[./,]
(193.36), towns[.] (232.11), “Often[.]” (263.37), walking[,/.] (290.2),
side[.] (303.9), whoop[.] (327.17), charge[.] (328.18), venomous[.]
(355.39), drink[.] (366.17), spirit[’/.] (373.13), dog[.] (374.23),
effort[,/.] (383.3), blanket[.] (391.16), with it[.] (393.29), or
two[,/.] (398.23), down[,/.] (399.4), Saratoga[,/.] (417.35), feet[,/.]
(427.16), tunnel[,/.] (430.33), business[. ](407.26), were[.] (474.8),
bank[,/.] (476.21), earnest[,/.] (490.36), bread[,/.] (494.21), up[.]
(517.9), vein[,/.] (530.8), adversity[,/.] (567.14), merely[,/,]
(567.26), extracted[,/.] (569.8), mine[,/.] (569.10), windlass[.]
(569.11), blast[.] (568.4), poles[.] (568.6), inches[.] (569.5).
The (many) other errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been
corrected, and are noted here. The references are to the page and line
in the original. Where the error occurs in a quoted document, it is
merely noted.
viii.21 FIRST QUA[R]TZ MINE IN NEVADA Inserted.
viii.22 QUA[R]TZ MILL—AMALGAMATING ROOM Inserted.
viii.26 “THE HEATHE[N] CHINEE” Restored.
ix.23 THE DISCOVERY[ OF] SILVER. Inserted.
ix.34 An U[u/n]pleasant Joke Inverted.
x.30 Old Gus[./,] and his “Injun.” Replaced.
x.39 [w/W]aste of Gold and Silver Uppercase.
xi.26 Peril[l]ous Ways and Dark Places Removed.
xii.19 A little Pict[n/u]re Inverted.
xii.22 RA[I]LROAD LINES. Inserted.
xv.36 “Fighting Interests.[”] Added.
xvi.5 C[A/H]APTER LXIV. Replaced.
xvi.14 [G/C]HAPTER LXVI. Replaced.
xvi.41 Doubtf[n/u]l Dreams Inverted.
20.19 he said[./,] “Yonder lies Replaced.
35.6 “dead thing,[’/”] Restored.
38.36 formed of [lodestone] or magnetic iron ore. _sic_
46.15 yielded millions upon mil[l]ions in gold Inserted.
51.1 made by O[ /’]Riley and M^cLaughlin Replaced.
53.8 sold his interest in the Central No. 1[.] for
$4,000 Removed.
56.22 “Old Pancake[”] was happy Added.
56.25 no sooner was it in his posses[s]ion Inserted.
59.31 ‘I baptize this ground Virginia.[’] Added.
60.2 living on the Trucke[r/e] Meadows Replaced.
63.9 including of[ of] its depths Removed.
72.8 he could no longer rest[r]ain himself Inserted.
72.17 and then tossed Ruspas[,/’ ]ear over to the
jury Replaced.
72.38 this day,[’/ ]I have bargained and sold Replaced.
73.5 all my right[./,] title, and interest Replaced.
74.14 with the [appurtences] _sic_
88.15 the head with a pistol.[”] Added.
90.19 as I lay thar lookin’ up[’] at the sky Removed.
93.7 “[’]Well, to’ards night Removed.
94.12 watchin[,’/’], between mouthfuls, Transposed.
94.17 that dam fisher skin now![”/’] Replaced.
94.18 I could[’n/n’]t do full justice Transposed.
94.24 by all that’s stinkin’ and nasty![”/’] Replaced.
94.35 [“]Peter O’Riley, in the early days, Removed.
94.26 I need[’n/n’]t mention what follered. Transposed.
95.12 she expressed u[u/n]bounded love Inverted.
96.16 having been caref[n/u]lly studied Inverted.
100.3 Mrs[.] L. S. Bowers Added.
104.5 congenial hills[,] flats, and gulches Added.
107.23 all the new[ ]comers Removed.
112.20 be seen to as[s]ume a rich purple color Inserted.
131.27 stopping at Van Sickle[’s/s’] Station Transposed.
144.24 these accidental collis[i]ons Inserted.
156.37 all manner of w[ie/ei]rd imaginings Transposed.
160.19 a volcanic rock of[ of] much more recent Removed.
160.20 ([s/S]yenite is much the same as granite Uppercase.
163.1 the peculiar [s]tratification Added.
168.1 Mr[.] Frank thought it all over. Added.
173.33 of a corpse-like pal[l]or. Inserted.
177.5 with vertic[le/al] winzes Replaced.
177.12 They have not been[,] many, but they have been Removed.
181.23 lying in all kinds of d[i/e]spairing positions Replaced.
182.2 covered with planks[,] wet blankets, and
earth. Added.
168.7 Mr[.] Frank also was quite cheerful Added.
209.8 The cage was prom[p]tly lowered again Inserted.
218.39 It is a well[ known]-known scientific fact Removed.
222.1 more substantial st[r]uctures Inserted.
249.22 another corner of the beleagu[e]red block Inserted.
251.34 from the vigilantes.[”] Removed.
267.18 What have you in your packs[!/?] Replaced.
272.12 took Captain Trucke[r/e] into his service Replaced.
273.16 She say, [‘]Juan you got-a some money?’ Added.
273.22 for your Spanish wife?[”] Added.
273.27 She no all time want [‘]money, money.’ Added.
273.32 [“]Why, John, you surprise me. Added.
273.33 How many shirts has she got—twenty?[”] Added.
291.8 a natural born philanthrop[h]ist Removed
291.9 he could amel[i]orate the condition Inserted.
292.4 continually to i[n/m]prove and benefit Replace.
300.8 villain on don[n]ing blue woollen pantaloons Inserted.
307.6 1[./,]500 feet below the surface Replaced.
313.25 s[t/l]oping out in the bonanza. Replaced.
347.34 into the dist[r]ibuting tanks Inserted.
351.35 their value in silver and gold[,/.] Replaced.
352.27 which was dis[s]olved Inserted.
323.21 3 o’clock P. M[.] Added.
372.38 become ver[’] moche interest Added.
373.30 [“]What was the use of William Tell Added.
375.4 and feelin[’] prouder’n Added.
376.24 I’ll manage it all for you.[”] Added.
376.28 I don[’]t know much about Inserted.
376.9 of such service.[”] Added.
376.13 “Of course it[’]s a considerable sum Inserted.
378.15 on the other the but[t] of a navy revolver Added.
385.6 were torn to p[ei/ie]ces Transposed.
385.8 in a room [a/o]ccupied by General Replaced.
385.36 [“]Now all people, everyone Added.
385.37 two yard-ee long, hap (half) yard-ee[ ]wide Inserted.
386.13 [“]One dead Chinaman Added.
386.20 [“]Chinaman no likee Added.
386.26 [“]One ’Melican man Added.
386.33 you bet.[’] Removed.
387.4 [“]Dead Chinaman all the same Added.
388.10 wire probes, and[ and] other
smoking-apparatus. Removed.
392.32 The man with the elect[r]ical-machine Inserted.
400.22 Should there be a furth[u/e]r Replaced.
401.30 [“]Zee mine be one merveille Added.
401.42 [“]Capital Removed.
404.18 afore in the[”]— Inserted.
411.35 and the Hornbeck[’]s and Doolittles Removed.
415.20 one of the most bea[u]tiful little lakes Inserted.
415.27 also of a rather un[u]sual style Inserted.
416.3 “Yank’s[”] and all of the other stations Added.
424.16 they excited universal s[y]mpathy Inserted.
429.14 [“]One of the men Added.
430.2 the miner was punc[ut/tu]ally at hand Transposed.
437.7 she is older tha[t/n] the egg Added.
437.31 the bully Honest [m/M]iner Uppercase.
452.23 [“]Yes, some ozzaire time Added.
452.37 [“]how ver’ beautiful is zee cool air Added.
462.32 in any other business.[”] Added.
466.33 in the great fiss[s]ure Removed.
471.9 depth of three [a/o]r four hundred feet Replaced.
471.29 in[ in] fact. Removed.
487. fro[n/m] one hundred and fifty Replaced.
488.10 or $3[4/6],000,000 per year Replaced.
489.4 Sub[s]tracting this from the gross amounts Removed.
491.1 By refer[r]ing to the map Inserted.
499.12 southeasterly direction from Virgin[i]a City Inserted.
503.27 all uncon[s]cious of the presence Inserted.
503.36 Pharaoh’s serpents[.] Added.
504.37 eased by cutt[t]ng away behind them Removed.
505.38 were then produced [l/i]n order to Replaced.
506.4 Virginia and Trucke[r/e] Railroad Replaced.
518.35 owned by the f[l/i]rm Replaced.
525.14 reached California, in August, 18[3/5]0 Replaced.
538.15 flip a [f/s]lapjack into the air Replaced.
539.11 to throw a slap[-]jack up through Removed.
540.11 they christened the “Granite Polka.[”] Added.
546.31 Pike’s friend[s] were evidently amazed Added.
548.9 try to raise a stake.[’]” Inserted.
548.13 [“]It came from old Missouri Removed.
554.10 “Give us the dream![”] Let’s have Removed.
554.27 I mean I tho[n/]ught I heard ’em Inverted.
560.5 when the[r/s]e were fired Replaced.
560.36 Soon Piper[’]s Opera House Inserted.
560.38 while to the right [the/and] southward Probable.
564.18 California St[e/r]eet Replaced.
564.28 sold on California St[e/r]eet Replaced.
562.5 people for a time seemed stup[i/e]fied Replaced.
568.43 [a/A] stony place[.]’ Uppercase./Added.
568.44 A ro[e/c]k[.] Replaced./Added.