Chapter THIRTY: FOURTH.--Our Wheels revolve--The Natives of the Island (2)

life-size wax figure of the Saviour. There are also life-size figures of Mary, St. Peter, St. Paul, and St. John, each mounted on a car, and each car illuminated by one hundred tapers, which are set in candelabras of silver, and borne by sixteen men. Incense is burned, a chant is sung accompanied by the organ, and at the ringing of a small bell, all rise from their knees; the bell rings again, and the procession moves. The ass is first led out, followed by the figures of Mary and the Apostles in order; next, the band of music and the procession follows, which is illuminated by innumerable tapers. They move toward the main gate, all joining in the chant. The passage of the first of the procession through the gate, is announced by the simultaneous discharge of rockets which illumine the very heavens. The discharging of rockets is continued, and, after passing through the principal streets, they return to the church and deposit the images. They again return to the city, seize an effigy of Judas Iscariot and after hanging it up by the neck, cut it down and burn it. The celebration closes with the usual night procession of nuns and priests. These celebrations and processions are conducted with the greatest solemnity, the people all engaging in them as if they thought them indispensable to salvation.

The priests are quite ultra in their dress, wearing a black silk gown, falling below the knee, black silk tights, patent-leather shoes, fastened with immense silver buckles, a black hat, the brim of the most ungovernable dimensions, rolled up at the sides and fastened on the top of the crown. Their zeal in religion is equalled only by their passion for gaming and cock-fighting. It appears strange to see men of their holy calling enter the ring with a cock under each arm, gafted for the sanguinary conflict, and, when the result is doubtful, enter into a most unharmonious wrangle, with the _faithful_ under their charge.

The citizens of Panama are composed of all grades of color, from the pure Sambo, (former slaves or their descendants,) to the pure Castilian. The distinctive lines of society are not very tightly drawn. At the fandangoes all colors are represented, and a descendant of Spain will select, as a partner, one of the deepest dye. In this hot climate the waltz or quadrille soon throws all parties into a most profuse perspiration, which causes _that other_ characteristic of the African race to manifest itself. I would recommend my American friends to select partners of the lighter color, as I am not prepared to say the _odor_ is altogether pleasant. The order of the evening is to fill the floor; the music and dance commence; when a gentleman gives out, another takes his partner, and so on, until it is time for refreshments. The ladies never tire.

Chapter Eighth.

BAY OF PANAMA--ISLANDS--SOLDIERS--ARRIVAL OF $1,000,000 IN GOLD AND
SILVER--A CONDUCTA--“BUNGOES” “UP” FOR CALIFORNIA--WALL STREET
REPRESENTED--SAIL FOR SAN FRANCISCO--CHIMBORAZO--CROSS THE
EQUATOR--A CALM--A DEATH AT SEA.

In the bay of Panama (called the “Pearl Archipelago,” from the numerous pearls obtained in its waters,) there are innumerable islands, all of great fertility, supplying the city with vegetables, tropical fruits, eggs, fowls, &c. (See Plate.) It is, from these islands vessels are supplied with provisions and water, the latter being obtained at Toboga, one of the largest of the group. A more enchanting scene than is presented from the higher points of these islands, cannot be imagined. The bay as placid as a mirror, Panama in full view, with mountains rising in the background. Looking along down the coast of South America, you see a succession of lofty mountains, some by their conical peaks proclaiming their volcanic origin, some still clouded in smoke, giving token of the fierce struggle that is going on within. Still farther to the right the bay opens into the broad Pacific; that little ripple that is now running out, will go on gathering strength, until it breaks upon the shores of the “Celestial Empire.” Still farther to the right, a tower, shrouded in ivy, seems weeping over the tomb of a city.

In the background mountain succeeds mountain, until the last is buried in clouds. Ships and steamers are lying quietly at anchor; numerous islands are blooming at your feet, clothed with tropical fruits, growing and ripening spontaneously. Nature reigns supreme, the hand of man has not marred her perfection; if his rude habitation is sometimes seen, it is nestling quietly in the bosom of some grove planted by the hand of Nature, interlaced by vines, their tendrils entwining, forming an arbor over his head, and presenting fruit and wine at his door. It seems a paradise. It would seem that man might be happy here. He has not to care for to-morrow, but to partake of the bounties of nature as they are presented. But, alas! man spends his life struggling for the thousand phantasies his own diseased imagination has engendered, while nature has placed happiness within his reach, and only asks contentment on the part of the recipient of her bounties.

The markets of Panama, as well as the retail trade in other departments, 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.

The bystanders grow a little suspicious. The cards are again dealt, small bets are made and won by the bystanders. The gambler “treats,” bystanders again bet, win, are “treated,” and grow courageous. A better state of feeling exists; the gambler grows more complacent, and treats oftener. All are anxious to bet, the gambler is considered one of the best of fellows--one of that kind of men who would a little prefer _losing_ money to _winning_ it. Again bets are made and won, and all appear anxious to share the gambler’s money, as it is, doubtless, about to be distributed among the _fortunate_ bystanders. All drink and bet liberally; but this time they lose. This is, however, the first loss, and they bet again, but it so happens that they lose this time also. They drink and bet again, and again lose. They now find that they have only half as much money as they commenced with. They now resolve to recover what they have lost, and quit. But, alas! when the victim arrives at this point in the drama, he is lost. He loses every bet, until, seized by a feeling of reckless desperation, he risks _all_, and is immolated upon the altar of avarice.

Hundreds who have never risked, and who think it impossible they ever could risk, a dollar in a game of chance, are daily drawn into the vortex. They come to town with well-filled purses, the proceeds, perhaps, of six months’ hard labor, to buy the necessary provisions and clothing, get their letters, &c. They meet old friends, drink, go to the gambling house, drink again, and finally bet a small amount, and perhaps win. They bet again, and again win. A feeling of avarice is now excited, and they risk a large sum. But after repeated bets, with varied success, they discover that they are losers. They now make the _fatal resolve_ that they will win back what they have lost and quit; the next moment they are ruined.

Chapter Ten.

THE “HOUNDS”--VILLAINY--INDIGNATION MEETING--VIGILANCE COMMITTEE.

San Francisco was, at this time, infested by a gang of desperados disposed to repudiate all laws, and be governed only by their own fiendish propensities. They styled themselves “hounds,” and neither life nor property were secure against their depredations. They felt so secure in their strength and numbers, that they did not seek the protection of night, but frequently committed the most revolting crimes at noon-day, and under the eye of the public authorities. They would enter public houses, demand whatever they wished, always forgetting to pay for the same, and, perhaps, before leaving, demolish every article of furniture on the premises. This would be a mere prelude or introductory to a night of fiendish revelry. They would plunder houses, commit the most diabolical acts upon the inmates, murder in case of resistance, then commit the building to the flames to hide their infamy.

On the first Sunday after my arrival, several of the leaders of the gang returned to town, after a few days’ absence. They crossed over from the opposite side of the bay, having with them a fife and drum, the music of which was accompanied by yells, groans and hisses, such as one would only expect to hear from demons. After landing they marched into the main plaza, and executing a few peculiar evolutions, dispensed with their music, at least the instrumental part of it, and commenced their foray. I was seated in a restaurant as the captain and five of his followers entered. He drew up to a table upon which were several glasses, decanters, &c., together with sundry plates of refreshments. He raised his foot, kicked over the table, smashing the crockery into atoms, then taking his cigar from his mouth said, with the utmost _nonchalance_, “waiter, bring me a gin-cocktail, G--d d--n you.” After having satisfied their thirst and hunger, they sallied forth without taking the trouble to learn the precise amount of damage done.

During the night, after committing several robberies, they entered a Chilian tent, and, after committing the most brutal outrages upon the mother and daughter, murdered the former, and in their struggle with the latter, she, after receiving several severe wounds, caught a bowie-knife from the hand of one of them and, after dealing him a deadly blow, made her escape. She immediately gave the alarm, and although robberies had been committed with impunity, this outrage upon defenceless females, awakened an impulse that was irresistible. The excitement was most intense; citizens flocked together, armed with a determination to meet out summary punishment to the perpetrators of this inhuman outrage.

Several arrests were made, and, although many were in favor of summary vengeance, better counsel prevailed, and they were put into the hands of the authorities and locked up. They refused to give any information as to the stolen property, but upon searching the tent of an accomplice, various articles were found, and snugly stowed away in a mattress was a large amount in gold dust, the wages of their infamy. A few hours after the above arrests, a demonstration was made by accomplices, in order to force open the jail, and release their comrades. This caused the strongest feelings of indignation, and the citizens assembled _en masse_ in the plaza, all armed to the teeth, determined to avenge this additional aggravation to the atrocious crimes already perpetrated. They immediately organized themselves into a police, and determined to act with decision upon any proposition that might be sanctioned by the meeting. Had a resolution passed to hang the prisoners it would have been carried into immediate effect. Notwithstanding the excitement of the moment, many of the “hounds” had the effrontery to show themselves, and during a speech by one of the citizens, made some menacing jestures, upon which the speaker drew a revolver from his bosom, and with a determined emphasis requested all those who sympathized with the prisoners to separate from the crowd. Had they complied, the determination manifested in every countenance gave fearful token of the doom that awaited them. It was resolved, in consideration of the insecurity of the jail, to transfer the prisoners to the man-of-war, “General Warren.” This was carried into immediate effect, the citizens forming a double file from the jail to the shore.

This demonstration secured but five of the numerous horde that infested the city, and it was not to be expected that the arrests of these would prove a salutary check, nor did it. The desperados stood in greater fear of this self-constituted police than of the regular authorities. This organization was undoubtedly the germ from which the “Vigilance Committee” eventually grew. It is well known that, upon the breaking out of the gold excitement, the cities of the world sent forth their vilest scum, consisting of gamblers, pickpockets, murderers, and thieves, and California was the receptacle. They immediately fraternized, and were at once the most adroit, wily and experienced embodiment of villainy with which the prospects of a city were ever blighted. They were not men broken down in their _profession_ at home, but the very _aristocracy_ of crime. Too well-skilled to be detected, they had escaped the meshes of the law in their own country, and resorted to California for its superior _business_ prospects. As if to have the organization complete, the convict islands of Great Britain vomited forth a herd that seemed almost _festering_ with crime. This sealed the doom of San Francisco. She was infested by an organization, the very incarnation of infamy. They would fire the city for plunder, and commit murder to screen themselves from detection.

The city had grown to the stature of a giant; all were reaping the reward of their enterprise, when on the 5th December following, the torch of the incendiary was applied, and within a few short hours San Francisco was in ashes. Citizens who had assumed their pillows in wealth awoke in penury. Many, after a year of toil and anxiety, were preparing to return to their families in affluence, but in one brief moment their dreams of happiness were blighted, and their riches a heap of smouldering ruins. The city was immediately rebuilt, but citizens had barely entered their new habitations, when it was again devastated by fire. Again it rose, Phenix-like, from its own ashes, and again business was resumed, but for the third time it was in ruins.

The citizens were appalled. That it was the work of incendiaries no one doubted, yet to detect them seemed impossible, so skillfully were their plans laid, and so adroitly executed. Added to this, the sequel proved that some of their number had got into “high places,” were conniving at their acts, and sharing their ill-gotten booty. This, in part, accounts for the tardy proceedings against those who were arrested, and the numerous reprieves of those who were clearly proved guilty. Property to the value of some twenty millions of dollars had already been destroyed, hundreds of citizens had been reduced from affluence to bankruptcy, others were in momentary fear of sharing the same fate. They had lost confidence in the city authorities, and there seemed no alternative but to take the matter into their own hands. They consequently organized themselves into what was termed a “Vigilance Committee,” with the determination of bringing every suspicious person to a strict account. Many of the most influential and wealthy citizens were the first to enrol themselves, and they called upon all to join them in their effort at self-protection. Their head-quarters was at the engine-house of a fire company, the tolling of the bell being the signal for all to assemble. This well-known signal was always heard when an arrest was made, and became the death-knell to many a wretch, who for his villainies was hastily summoned into another world. The meetings of the Committee were strictly private, none but members being admitted. The proceedings were summary, and if the prisoner was proved guilty his sentence was carried into immediate effect. None were executed, however, without the unanimous consent of members present, this being one of the provisions of their constitution. Those who were executed were not only proved guilty, but confessed their guilt before their execution. Most of those who fell under the ban of the Committee were “Sidney convicts,” and subsequently they were all ordered to leave the country within a specified time, upon the pain of death. The Mayor issued a proclamation against the proceedings of the Committee, and the coroner’s juries summoned over the bodies of those who were executed, found against them; yet it is a question of doubt, whether _any one_ was secretly opposed to their proceedings.

Persons living in well-regulated communities, and looking at the matter in the distance, may feel disposed to censure the Committee and its proceedings as hasty and precipitate; but, when we take into consideration that not only property to an immense amount, but life itself, was in jeopardy--the want of facilities for securing and retaining criminals during the tardy process of law, the numerous rescues by accomplices, and the frequent pardons by the authorities when the accused were notoriously guilty,--I say, when we take these things into consideration, together with the fact that not an individual was executed who was not clearly proved guilty, and even confessed his guilt; we can look upon the acts of the Committee not only as just--but imperative. In the confessions of some of those who were executed they implicated men in authority, in such a manner that not a doubt was left upon the public mind. The result of these summary measures is apparent to all. Crime, since the organization of the Committee, has decreased one half, and they have now ceased to make arrests, leaving all to the jurisdiction of the proper authorities. They, however, maintain their organization, and would, no doubt, act in case of emergency.

Chapter Eleventh.

START FOR THE MINERAL REGIONS--BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO RIVER--SHOT
AT--GOLD VS. MICA--SUTTERVILLE--PRIMITIVE MODE OF LIFE--SACRAMENTO
CITY--AN INDIVIDUAL WHO HAD “SEEN THE ELEPHANT.”

I spent the interval between the 5th of July and the 19th in preparing for the mines. I found many of the miners in town on account of the high state of water in the rivers. My friends who had visited the interior, spoke discouragingly of the mines, preferring the mercantile business. But goods were at the time selling at less than New York prices, and rents were enormously high. Many of the merchants were anxious to sell out and go into the mines, and I came to the conclusion that mining was the only sure way of making a fortune.

On the 19th July I went on board the brig “North Bend,” with three men who had been hired in New York and sent out by a company in which I had an interest, and sailed for the Sacramento river. We crossed the bay, and in an hour were in the strait, running up with a stiff breeze, passing numerous small islands inhabited by water fowl and covered with “guano.” There were innumerable ducks, brant, loons, and geese flying through the air; the scenery delightful, the first fifty miles being a succession of small bays, all studded with islands. At the right the bank rises gradually to the height of from twenty to fifty feet, covered with wild oats, with an occasional “live oak” tree, and relieved by frequent ravines through which small streams find their way to the strait. This plain, during the rainy season, furnishes pasture for heads of wild cattle--elk, deer, and antelope, but at this season they had retired to the marshes and lower lands; and the whole of the right bank, as far back as the eye could reach, appeared one immense field of ripened grain. The left bank, on the immediate margin, presents the same appearance, but relieved in the background by the coast range of mountains with which we were running parallel. This range appears a continuous ledge of granite, destitute of vegetation, and at one point towers up into a peak of considerable height, called Monte Diablo, (Devil’s Mount).

At 12 M., we arrived at Benicia, now a port of entry and United States naval station. The man of man-of-war, “Southampton,” was anchored in the stream--guarding the passage--to prevent smuggling. As soon as we came in sight they lowered their boat, and pulled out toward the middle of the stream, to intercept us, and examine our papers--at the same time hoisting a signal for us to come to. Our captain was an “old salt,” and, in his estimation, the greatest blessing conferred upon man is a fair wind. He had every inch of canvas set, and manifested a determination not to shorten sail; we were running before a ten-knot breeze, and flew by them like a shadow. They hailed us, but not being obeyed they fired a gun from the ship, when our captain ordered the helm put down, and in an instant our sails were fluttering in the breeze; we had distanced the jolly-boat--they being obliged to row half a mile against the current to reach us. The officer boarded us in not the most amiable mood; it was quite apparent that we were enjoying a joke he thought somewhat expensive to himself. He informed us that a foreign vessel had passed them a few days previous; but they were now on their guard and would have given us the next shot in our rigging. He pronounced our papers satisfactory, and pulled off for the ship, being most heartily cheered by us.

We were soon under way dashing along at lightning speed; soon arriving at the confluence of the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers, fifty miles above San Francisco, the latter river coming in from the east, the former from the north. The strait up which we had sailed, running in the same direction, is called, by many, the Sacramento river. At the junction of the two rivers there is a marsh, of some extent, in the midst of which is located the “New York of the Pacific,” of newspaper notoriety. I am informed that it now contains _one house_. There were not so many when we passed up. It is said there has never been a death in the city. We soon entered “Sui Sun” bay, which is an extensive, but very shallow body of water, requiring careful pilotage to take vessels through in safety. We again enter the Sacramento, which now presents a different appearance--the immediate margin being walled up by heavy timber, beyond which the marsh extends as far as the eye can reach. The depth of water on these marshes frequently covers the grass, presenting the appearance of a succession of lakes--all swarming with water fowls. Soon after reëntering the river our pilot brought us to a dead stand by running us on a sand bar. It was ebb tide, and there was no alternative but to await the flood. We loaded our rifles, lowered a boat, and pulled for the shore, preparatory to a hunt.

On landing, we were greeted by the most ravenous swarm of mosquitos it was ever my fortune to fall in with. They seemed to constitute the very atmosphere, and for size and spirit, I think they are without rivals, even in the “Montezuma swamp.” We did not at first retreat, but soon came to the conclusion that game must be poor, where there are so many _bills_ presented. We carried a few of them on board, and they were so well pleased, they remained till morning. At 10, A.M., the tide flooded us off, and we were again under way. We soon left the river, and entered what is called the “slough,” which is a part of the river running out twenty miles above, and by passing through it, half the distance is saved. On both sides the “slough,” it is densely timbered; the branches hanging over the stream, and many of the trees inclining over, it required the greatest care to avoid their coming in contact with our spars. We had a fine breeze, and each of the passengers took his turn at the wheel. None of them attracted the attention of the captain, until it became my turn. Whether it was that I understood navigation better than my fellow-passengers, I am not prepared to say, but, certain it is, that I had stood at the wheel but a moment, when, without consulting the compass, I found myself at a dead stand in a tree-top. I did not claim much credit for it, _and did not receive any_.

After cutting away branches, grapevines, etc., we were again under way, with the captain at the wheel. He proved as skillful as myself, and made fast to the first tree-top. We soon reëntered the main channel, and were passing through a more

pleasant country, being a succession of forest and plain. At 4, P.M., in passing the mouth of a small stream, we again found ourselves aground, with a prospect of waiting twelve hours for the next tide. A boat was lowered, and some of the passengers went off to hunt. There were fish here in abundance. We offered them refreshments, but they seemed to “loathe the sight.” The passengers who had gone on shore, had disappeared in the forest, but soon two of the number were seen hurrying toward the shore. They pushed off the small boat, and were soon coming over the side of the brig. They appeared much agitated, and, after consulting a friend in whispers, the three started for the shore.

After an hour’s absence, they returned with their handkerchiefs filled with something, which was evidently not for the public eye. It was immediately put under lock and key. From the self-satisfied air and knowing winks of the three fortunate individuals, it was apparent that their fortune was full of hope. After mature reflection, they, no doubt, came to the conclusion, that as there was enough for all, as it was in their power, with a word, to place wealth within the grasp of all, it was their duty to make all happy, without delay, and, with great magnanimity, informed us that they had ascended the stream some distance, and, as they approached the ripple, to their astonishment, they found the water gurgling through pebbles of gold. They had each secured a competence, assuring us that we could go and do likewise. Some evil-disposed person stood by, who informed us that he noticed the same thing, and did not think it was gold. The three above-mentioned individuals, to reassure us, unlocked their trunks, but, lo! their fortunes, like fancy-stocks at the present day, had a downward tendency. It proved to be mica. It had somewhat the appearance of gold, but on separating it from the sand, it was found to be very light, having the appearance of small pieces of gilt paper. It was a most _blighting_ illustration of the adage, that “all is not gold that glitters,” particularly to the three above-mentioned individuals. The bed of the river at this place had the appearance of being constituted of golden sands. The same has been noticed in almost all the streams in California, and has, undoubtedly, given rise to many of the golden reports. At 10, A.M., (Sunday,) we were again under way, the day excessively hot, and at 12, M., arrived at “Sutterville;” and, when opposite the _town_, found ourselves out of the channel, and aground. We all went on shore, and had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of one of the proprietors, with whom we walked a mile back from the _town_, to view “_Capitol Hill_,” the _anticipated_ site of the State House. Although we did not break ground for the cornerstone, we were among the first to know the _precise spot_. The _town_ is situated four miles below Sacramento City, and three from the fort. It contained three houses, visible to the _natural_ eye, but, to the eye of the worthy proprietor’s imagination, it numbered many thousands. This had caused a very perceptible rise in the value of city lots.