Chapter VIII: The Illusion of “gold Lake.”

Many of the miners lost a whole season’s labor, and had no more than they had the fall previous. In the early part of the season there was quite an excitement at Marysville, and at the mines on Feather River, known as the “Gold Lake” excitement.

This was caused by a man who told in some respects a very plausible story or yarn. He said he had been a long distance east into the Sierra Nevada mountains, where he had made the discovery of a lake where gold was so plentiful that it could be gathered in almost unlimited quantities.

He also said he was there at the lake for only a few days and that he had gathered more than he could carry, and had secreted it.

Many believed his story to be all true, and the result was that quite a large company was gathered and went away back into the mountains and camped. Gold Lake was searched for but could not be found. It was said that after getting back into the mountains the Gold Lake leader appeared to be insane.

The result of the expedition was the discovery of Nelson’s Creek mines on a stream emptying into the middle fork of Feather River, some 90 miles or more in the mountains.

Hearing of this discovery, which was said to be very rich, I concluded to go and take my chances. This was before we had built our dam on the old claim. Alden J. Nutting went with me, as I remember. We traveled up there on foot, and in those days in California every one carried his blankets, if nothing more. When we arrived at Nelson’s creek, we found a large number of people already there, provisions scarce and high, and although there were some very good mines, they did not appear to be very extensive or lasting. We made a prospecting tour farther east among the mountains for two or three days, but as we found no gold in paying quantities, we soon after returned to the valley.

After we had abandoned our claim on the middle fork, I concluded to go to Nelson’s Creek again. I started from Marysville and traveled up there the second time. This was in August, and yet at one place we traveled over a snow bank which we estimated was 25 feet deep. After arriving there in company with one or two others, I selected a claim on the middle fork of Feather River, a short distance below the mouth of Nelson’s Creek, where the stream could be turned by a dam. We thought there was a possibility that the river bed might be rich, and we concluded to construct a small wing dam sufficient to test it. We put in the dam so as to throw the water from a small portion of the river’s bed. The claim proved as worthless as our first one.

I then traveled up Nelson’s Creek two or three miles and hired myself to a company who had turned the creek from its course and was working out its bed.

This was paying fairly well. If I remember correctly I was to have ten dollars per day and board. The next camp below ours on the creek was about 80 rods distant, where three men were at work. They were all from Vergennes, Vermont, and were neighbors before they left home. They had a paying claim and were doing well. As the stream between the two camps passed through a small canyon, the trail was a rough one.

One Saturday night, about twelve o’clock, one of these men came running up to our camp very much excited and out of breath, saying his two partners had been killed. His version of the matter was that, as they all lay asleep, two or three men had killed his two companions with a hatchet while they slept, and that he was awakened by the noise of the blows, to discover a man with a hatchet raised over his head, just in the act of striking him the fatal blow. He had jumped to his feet and run for his life. He had heard someone running after him, but from the sound he thought his pursuer had fallen, and after that ceased to follow him.

We immediately went to the stricken camp, but could do nothing that night. The next morning we went down and found the two men in the creek. We took them out and found their heads cut to pieces, and also found the hatchet in the creek that was used by the murderers. The men were said to have had a considerable quantity of gold, which they kept under their heads. The gold could not be found.

We rolled the murdered men in their blankets as well as we could and buried them on the side of the mountain.

It would perhaps be natural for some to suspect the survivor of the three men as being the guilty murderer of the other two, and that seemed to be the case to some extent, especially by those who knew but little of the circumstances, while all those that were present when the murdered men were found and buried, were of the opinion that he was innocent of the crime.

On the next Sunday, one week after the two dead men were found and buried, quite a company of men came into our camp, all being strangers. Soon after they began to inquire in relation to the circumstances accompanying the murders, and all such circumstances and conditions were minutely gone into so far as was known.

After learning all that seemed to be possible to be known about the sad matter, they quietly departed. We did not know their mission at the time. Soon after we learned that they came from a small mining town, a few miles distant. They heard of the murders, and of the circumstances of the three men being camped together, two of whom were killed.

They had talked the matter over and discussed the circumstances attending them, so far as they could learn them correctly at such a distance, and at a public meeting. They had arrived at the conclusion that the survivor of the three men was undoubtedly the murderer. The men that came to our camp had been selected at the meeting for the purpose of investigating the case, and to try the supposed murderer before Judge Lynch, and if found guilty, execute him.

When they came over Sunday morning they supposed it would all be completed and that they would return to their homes before night.

But after an investigation had been made by them, they came to the conclusion that the companion who had made his escape was innocent.

At the time I left home for California in April, 1849, I was not in the enjoyment of very good health. I was suffering somewhat from a cough, and it distressed me to inhale a long breath. I did not feel strong and robust. However, I had kept the matter a secret so far as was possible, thinking that if my friends knew the conditions they would oppose my going to California, and I was fully determined to go if possible and take the consequences, whatever they might be.

This condition of my health continued in some degree for a considerable length of time. While at Independence, Missouri, where we remained about four weeks, my illness caused a pain in my side when I rode horseback. The same was true after we had started on our journey over the plains. It gradually wore away and long before we reached the Rocky Mountains, my health seemed to be perfect.

It continued to be excellent during all the last part of the journey and through the winter of 1849-50. I was more fleshy and of heavier weight at that time than I had ever before been, or have been since. When cutting wood at Yuba City I weighed more than 160 pounds, but during the summer of 1850 I did not enjoy entirely uninterrupted good health.

Our work on Nelson’s Creek was very laborious. It lay in a mountain gulch, deep down, where it was quite warm as long as the sun shone upon us. I cannot at this time recall the exact length of time I worked there,

From an Old Print.

CUSTOM HOUSE ON THE PLAZA.]

but would say it was from two to three weeks. Whenever I labored in my life, I always intended to keep up my end, or to perform my share of the work. No fault was made known to me here.

However, I was not feeling as well as I could desire, especially toward the close of my service there. Instead of feeling any improvement, I grew steadily worse.

The last morning I went to my work I felt miserable, but thought I would be able to overcome it, so I said nothing. I worked until noon when I felt obliged to quit for the day.

There was at that camp a man by the name of Jewett, from some place in Massachusetts, who the winter previous had stopped a while at the Pelham camp. The tragic fate of the men so near our camp seemed to make Mr. Jewett extremely nervous and timid. He seemed to be almost afraid of his own shadow, and ever after the tragedy he was talking about going to the valley, and from there to his home in New England. One obstacle to his making an immediate start was that he lacked the courage to go alone.

Two or three days after I had quit work he found some parties that were going to the valley, and as there was but two of them, he desired me to go with them to enlarge the party, and as he seemed to believe, make it safer.

I replied that as I was sick, probably I could not travel as fast as his party would desire to go, but if I did not improve in health within a few days, I thought I should go to the valley. I had no fear to travel alone and would prefer to do so, as I could take my own time. He was very urgent that I should go with him, and said as he had a pack horse, he would carry my blankets and would make the journey as comfortable as possible for me. I finally consented, almost against my better judgment. This was near the last of August or the first of September.

We started on the morning of the next day after the arrangements had been completed. His horse was at Onion Valley, about eight miles on our way. From Nelson’s Creek up the mountain, about one and one-half miles, it was very steep. That brought us to the top of the mountain. From there we traveled to Onion Valley. There we took a little refreshments and then packed the horse and started for Grass Valley, about 18 miles distant.

Although the air on the mountain was cool, the morning was pleasant. While in California I wore no coat. Shirts and pants were the clothing worn, and during the rainy season when it was cooler we wore extra flannel shirts. Blankets were much used instead of shirts when miners were not at work. At that time I was dressed with a “Hickory” shirt and thin pants, all cotton.

When we left Onion Valley my blankets were packed on the horse, as I didn’t expect to need them on the road while walking.

Soon after we left Onion Valley it commenced raining, which soon after turned into a wet snow. This melted nearly as fast as it fell, and being thinly clad as I was, I was soon wet to the skin and very cold and uncomfortable. I thought that if I could only get my blankets out of the pack to put over my shoulders it would be much more comfortable, and perhaps better for the health of a sick man.

I spoke to Mr. Jewett about it and he replied that he couldn’t get at the blankets without unpacking the horse, and that he thought I could get along without them. I said no more about the matter. We at length arrived at Grass Valley, thoroughly drenched and almost exhausted.

While Mr. Jewett and his party were pitching the tent for the night, I went into a cloth eating house and seated myself on a board before a small fire burning on the ground. After being seated there for some time I felt very faint. I could see nothing for several minutes and everything looked black. I said nothing but kept my seat, which was near the table. I soon recovered from the faintness and became partially warm.

Supper was at length announced, but I did not desire to leave my seat, neither did I feel like eating anything. I turned and faced the table, ate a small piece of a cracker and drank a little tea, paid two dollars for supper, and again faced the fire.

When it was nearly night I went over a short distance to Mr. Jewett’s camp. He said I had the scurvy, but I didn’t think so. He wanted me to get some potatoes and eat them raw, scraped in vinegar. He urged the matter so persistently that I bought a pound of small potatoes, for which I paid one dollar and a half, scraped some of them into vinegar and made an effort to take them as medicine. It was too much like an emetic for me. I threw away those I had prepared, gave the balance to Mr. Jewett, and told him that rather than eat raw potatoes I would take my chances with the scurvy. But, in fact, I did not believe I had the scurvy, and later I was thoroughly convinced that I did not have it. Mr. Jewett was very timid that night and very nervous.

Each one of the small party had some kind of firearms. I had a double barrel shotgun, which was loaded with buckshot, but during the rain it had become wet through so that it was impossible to discharge it without giving it a thorough cleaning and drying. He desired me to put it in thorough order and reload it. I told him I would not do it, that I was about to lie down and make myself as comfortable as possible.

He said we were all liable to be murdered before morning. I said to him that I felt no fear of it, and that I was willing to take the risk. The night passed quietly away, and the next morning I felt slightly rested, but no better otherwise. I had no appetite and was quite weak.

After Mr. Jewett and his party had eaten their breakfast, they packed up and started for the next camp, which was twelve or thirteen miles distant.

We soon fell in with another small party that was traveling the same way, and Jewett was very much pleased to have their company.

I could not travel as fast as the party, and falling behind I traveled alone nearly the entire distance. When I arrived at the camp I was nearly exhausted. I did not at that time look for Jewett and his party. They were preparing or eating their dinners a short distance away. But I found my blankets where he unpacked his horse, and I lay down upon them under a tree and soon fell asleep.

Not long after, I was awakened by Mr. Jewett, who said he wanted my blankets to be packed. I told him he couldn’t have them any more, as I was going no farther that day. He inquired the reason, and I said I could go no farther until I had some rest. He asked me if I was sick, and I asked him if he had just learned the fact. I had supposed he knew it before we started, when he promised to be so kind to me if I would go with him. He desired that I would permit him to take my gun with him, and promised to leave it at the Pelham camp. I was glad to have him do this as it would release me of that much load, and I was no more afraid to travel there in the mountains unarmed at that time than I now fear to travel the streets of Nashua in broad daylight.

This was the last I saw of Mr. Jewett. I afterwards learned that he went to the Pelham camp, where he made a short stay. He soon after went to San Francisco and started for home, as I remember, by way of Mexico, but it was said he never reached his home. What his fate was I never knew. It seemed very certain that his cowardice was a much more prominent trait in his character than his hospitality. I remained over at the place during that afternoon and night, and the next day and night. I felt somewhat rested, but did not improve much in other respects. I didn’t quite enjoy the place and thought I would try to make a little progress toward the valley.

There were two or three stopping places on the road within eight or nine miles, one of which was Strawberry Valley. I believe the first one was about three miles distant. I settled my bill and started in the morning, traveling leisurely and reached the first station, where I rested a while. I then went to the next and also to the third. I had then made about nine miles in all. Here I rested again, and at first thought I would remain until the next day, the next stopping place being twelve miles distant. As I didn’t just fancy this place, I concluded to start for the next station, and should I become exhausted before reaching it I could lie down with my blankets for the night by the side of the road in the dense woods. These mountains were very heavily timbered.

I reached the place near night but I was very tired. This “ranch” consisted of a cloth house, which contained a “bar,” table, a cooking stove, with some other furnishings. Near by was a large tent in which travelers could sleep upon the ground by paying two dollars for the privilege.

I was glad to avail myself of even this meagre benefit, but I awoke during the night suffering excruciating pains in my body and limbs. I tried in vain to rise and stand upon my feet. I believe I never suffered more severe pains than during that night. The next forenoon I succeeded, after long and laborious efforts, to get upon my feet and move about a little.

I remained here four or five days and had mended somewhat, so I was contemplating resuming my journey, when I was surprised to see an old acquaintance enter the tent. His name was George Carlton and he was from Pelham, N. H., a man of somewhat rough manners but with a kind heart. He was as glad to see me as I was him. It seemed that Jewett had informed the party at Pelham camp of the fact that he had left me in the mountains sick. There was no Jewett about Mr. Carlton. The following morning, seeing that he was making preparations to leave, some one asked him where he was intending to go. He replied that he was going into the mountains to see if he could locate Webster. Some one of the company (one of the Pelham men, I will not mention his name) said he did not believe it to be wise for them to take into camp any more invalids. Mr. Carlton made the reply that they had learned that Webster was reported sick in the mountains, and that he was about to make an effort to find him, and that if he was dead he would bury him, but if found alive, he would bring him into camp. He started on foot and alone. At a station below the place where he found me, he observed a mule straying about the woods. It was a small animal, thin and of but little value. Mr. Carlton gave the proprietor the circumstances, and he said he did not apprehend that any owner would appear for the mule, and that he could take it if he desired to do so. He led the mule as he had no saddle, and the little brute was scarcely fit for a saddle animal. It was in the forenoon of his second day out that Mr. Carlton found me. I bought a saddle from the proprietor of the place, and we started for the Pelham camp. I rode the little mule. We reached camp the next evening. Dr. Batchelder prescribed some medicine for me, which I believe was the only time I employed a physician during my stay in California.

I remained with my Pelham friends five or six days, improving in health quite rapidly.