Kitabı oku: «The Perils and Adventures of Harry Skipwith by Land and Sea», sayfa 17
Chapter Twenty Four
Voyage to San Francisco – The City and Diggings – We book our passage for Honolulu – Marcus warns me of Danger, and the idea is abandoned – We return to England via New York – Marcus sails for Liberia, and we spend Christmas with Aunt Becky
I scarcely know why, but all of a sudden Trevor seized with a strong desire to visit San Francisco; and as there is steam communication between that city and Victoria, there was no difficulty in the way to prevent its being gratified. We had fixed the day for leaving Victoria, and were expecting Peter’s return to my service, when Mr Habakkuk Gaby walked into the room. He was wonderfully improved for the better since we parted at Cariboo, as far as dress was concerned; indeed, his costume was an indication of his very flourishing condition. “Well, I’ve brought back Peter to you; and I kalkilate the lad’s worth a hundred good dollars more than he was when you left him with me,” he observed, after the usual salutations were over.
I hoped that he had been successful in his speculations.
“Yas, I guess I have,” he answered, with a knowing wink; “I’ve had, too, enough of gold-digging, and I’m thinking of offering my services to the governor of one of these states as private secretary, or colonial secretary – I’m in no ways particular, – just to help him to put things to rights. I know how they ought to be – and that’s not as they now are. If my offers are not accepted I shall go on to Californy and see what’s to be done there; but I guess there are too many full-blooded Yankees there for the place to suit me.”
Mr Gaby, finding that the Governor of Victoria did not place the same estimate on his talents that he himself entertained, quitted the province in disgust, and was one of our fellow-passengers to San Francisco, the Queen of the Pacific, of which it is enough to say that the harbour is a magnificent one, as soon as the Golden Gate – the name given to the mouth of the river – is passed; and that the city is huge, composed of buildings of all sizes, from the imposing stone or brick edifice to the humble shanty. The hotels are numerous, and the jewellers’ shops, especially, are as handsome as any in London or Paris, while the population is truly composed of the natives of all countries in the world. We visited Sacramento and the diggings. The gold at the latter is chiefly obtained by crushing quartz; and numerous companies, with powerful machinery, are engaged in the business.
Cortez discovered California in 1537; yet, acclimatised as the Spaniards then were to the heat of the tropics, so oppressive did he find the climate, that he named the country, Caliente Fornalla, “the fiery furnace.” The Spaniards made no attempt to search for its mineral wealth; and till the middle of the last century, when California belonged to Mexico, and rumours reached Europe of its auriferous soil, its gold-fields were looked upon as fabulous. Some efforts were then made to discover the hidden treasure, but they all proved abortive, and the pearl fishery was looked upon as the only valuable product of “a sterile land of rocks and stunted bushes,” as it is described in the earliest account of any value of the country and its inhabitants, the latter then “but a step above the brute creation.” This account was written in German, by a Jesuit, after his return to his native country upon the suppression of his order by Pope Ganganelli, in July, 1773, and is full of curious information.
Still, the tradition of its yielding gold was never obliterated; but it was not till September, 1847, after its cession to the United States, that gold in any considerable quantity was discovered in California. The pioneers were a Captain Sutter and a Mr Marshall, two free settlers, who at first attempted to keep the discovery a secret. It is between that period and the year 1850 that the following sketch of “Dangers of the Diggings” must be placed, after which it became a sovereign State of the American Confederation, though murders and Lynch law prevailed even up to 1860.
I give the story in the words of Habakkuk Gaby – half trapper and half gold-digger, as we have seen him to be – as it is worth preserving, as a curious evidence of the rapid rise of San Francisco in the course of less than a dozen years from a state of almost perfect anarchy to such a height of civilisation and luxury as already to be regarded by many as all but the second city in the United States.
“Well, Master Trevor,” began Habakkuk one evening, as we were seated together, comfortably discussing our wine and cigars, “I’m no way partikler, but there is a place I’ve no wish to go to, though I guess that it ain’t hotter nor worse than Californy was when I first got to it. Ay, long before I got there, I guessed what was to follow; for a full day’s journey along the whole road was like a broker’s shop – only the goods were all smashed and had nobody to look after them. First, there were pianoes, fiddles, guitars, and other gimcracks. Then, chests of drawers, bedsteads, and boxes. Next, women’s fine clothes, bless them! and then bedding, pillows, and blankets. The useless first; then, step by step, one little comfort after ’tother. Then, sadder still, tents and cooking apparatus, skeletons of horses and oxen, broken-down waggons. Now and then, a grave; but, saddest of all, casks of biscuit and crackers, of flour and preserved meats, and whitened human bones!
“On, on! No time to bury the dead! Water, water! None to be had – not enough to cover the finger’s tip to cool the parched tongue! Whole families sank by the roadside and died of thirst. Perhaps one survived. It may be the father, whose thirst for gold had broken up a quiet home, – and all for greed had brought a fond wife and mother to perish on these arid plains – every vestige of vegetation dried up by the scorching sun – after seeing her little ones, one by one, droop and die away. Terrible such a fate! Welcome death! But death, in mockery, spares the thirsting wretch till madness supervenes, and suicide or murder ends what greed for gold began.
“No, Master Skipwith; ’tis only young and hale men, with no tie on earth to bind them, that should seek the diggings. Broken of heart, careless of the world, I’ve seen others who have left behind all they loved and were worth living for on the track to the gold-fields, labouring like machines, never smiling, seldom speaking, scarcely knowing why they thus toiled and laboured; now, all they had once loved on earth had gone. We could tell the nature of the country by the sorts of articles left on the road. Still worse, if anything, were the scenes which took place at the diggings. Rheumatism and fever brought many to the grave. The poor wretches lay in their tents or lean-tos, with no one to attend them – no one to speak to them – till death put an end to their sufferings, or sometimes madness seized them, and they would rush out attacking all they met, till they sank exhausted, or till they were knocked over by some of their companions, as if they had been wild beasts. Not content with having sickness for their foe, the diggers quarrelled among themselves. One party had diverted a stream from the claim of another. The latter demanded compensation, which was refused, on which they attacked the aggressors, killed several, and wounded many others. I guess gold-hunting, in those days, was not the pleasantest of occupations,” remarked Habakkuk, in conclusion.
“The Ingins, too, was troublesome in these parts, I’ve heard say,” observed Stalker.
“I guess they was,” answered Mr Gaby. “Can’t say, however, but what our people – that is, the whites – often brought it on themselves by shooting a red man without provocation; making them work against their will, beating them when they wouldn’t, and carrying off their squaws. Flesh and blood, whether it’s red or black, or white, don’t like that sort of treatment.
“One morning, two men were found speared in one of the out-huts of the camp, and everything in it carried off. Though we didn’t know much of the men, who they were or where they’d come from, they were whites, and that made the diggers very exasperated with the murderers. An expedition was at once organised to follow and punish the Red-men. We had no lack of leaders. Two or three men who had spent all their lives on the prairies or in the backwoods, and were well accustomed to cope with Indians, and knew all their tricks and cunning ways, offered their services. One fine old fellow was chosen – a Scotchman, called Donald McDonald. I guess that in his country there are a good many of the same name, but I don’t think many like him. He had lived all his life in these ports; and what made him come to Californy I don’t know, except the love of adventure, for he had plenty of money. He stood six feet four in his stockings, with a head of hair of a bright carrot-red, which hung down all over his shoulders – a beard and moustache to match. His brow, full of wrinkles, alone showed his age; for his eyes were bright and piercing, and his step as elastic as that of a young man. So as you seem pretty quiet with regard to the Ingins in these parts, I’ll just tell you how they manage things in the south, where, somehow or other, the whites are pretty nearly always at war with them. We assembled at the hut of the murdered men, that we might take our departure from it. There were numbers of footprints about the hut, but there had been no struggle near it. The men had been surprised by the crafty Ingins while they were asleep, run through with spears, and afterwards stabbed. Everything in the hut had been carried off by the murderers, who took no pains to conceal their numbers, or the direction in which they had gone. There was a considerable number of them, and their track led towards the most mountainous and intricate path of the country, with numerous streams intervening. ‘The varmints think by coming this way to baffle us; but we’ll soon let them know that a keen pair of eyes is following which has been accustomed for forty years or more to ferret them out, in spite of all their dodges,’ remarked Donald. It was well for those who had to accompany the old man to have a fast pair of legs.
“We kept on at a rapid rate the greater part of the day, the footmarks becoming more and more indistinct, from the nature of the ground, till we arrived at a mountain stream. As the traces were now totally lost, loud murmurs rose among our party.
“‘The savages have done us – depend on that,’ cried several of them.
“‘I ken they must be very clever savages, then,’ observed Donald, not a little offended at the imputation thrown on his sagacity.
“Donald continued walking up and down the stream for some time, carefully looking out for marks on the opposite side, for he well knew that the Indians must here have entered the stream and gone up or down some distance and then landed. No long time had passed before he shouted to us to follow him, and crossing the stream we came upon a track which looked at first as if only one person had passed, but on further examination we perceived that the varmint had formed in Indian file and trod in each other’s footsteps. We followed for some little distance, when the Ingins, little dreaming what sort of men would be after them, and despising the White Faces’ knowledge of their customs, broke off again, and walked along in a body, taking no pains to conceal their movements. They even dropped some of the flour which they were carrying off, and did not stop to hide the particles left on the ground. It was now getting dark, so we had to camp in a hollow, where we could light our fires without the danger of being seen by the Redskins, taking care, however, to prevent them from blazing up.
“As soon as we had camped, Donald went back to the river and quickly returned with a fat buck he had killed, and which he had watched for as it went to the stream to drink. We couldn’t sleep much for talking of the fight to come off next day, and for all the brave things we were going to do. By daybreak next morning we were on foot and closely following the trail of our enemies. In three or four hours we reached the place where they had camped, and Donald told us that the varmints had had a good supper on venison, and cakes made of the flour they had stolen, and that there were about five-and-twenty warriors, all well-armed with bows and arrows, and spears, and axes. We now pushed on more rapidly than ever, eager to be up with them. They were also marching quickly to get back to their camp, where they had left their squaws and papooses. Our route lay over mountains and across valleys, with grand scenery on every side. Each mountain we climbed the footprints of the Ingins became more and more distinct, till it was clear that we were rapidly getting up with them. McDonald, like a good general, now sent out scouts to prevent our being taken by surprise. We were told to hold our tongues and to look to our arms. At length we reached the summit of a lofty ridge, below which lay a broad valley.
“‘They are there,’ whispered McDonald; ‘and if you all keep silence, obey my orders, and behave like true men, we shall bag a round dozen of them.’
“These Californian chaps were no way particular how they treated the Redskins. Going on a little further, we saw, far down below us in the valley, a few wreaths of smoke curling up into the blue sky. They came from the fires of the Ingins. The order was now given to form in single file. Silently and cautiously we proceeded towards the encampment. The slightest noise or want of care would alarm our enemies, and perhaps bring destruction on our own heads. I guess it weren’t quite pleasant altogether, for if they had found us out, the tables might have been turned, and they would have killed us instead of our killing them.
“We crept on till we got to a low ridge, when, peering through the thick bushes, we saw, about four hundred yards off, a large body of Ingins encamped, some forty men or more, and twenty or thirty women. One old man, who seemed by his dress and position to be a chief, sat against a tree with a group of warriors collected round him, evidently giving an account of their adventures. The latter were in their war-paint, with feathers of different colours stuck in their hair, which was tied up in knots behind. They were as wild and fierce a set of fellows as I ever set eyes on. Yet Donald afterwards said that they were as arrant a set of cowards as are to be met with; but he certainly seemed to hold the Redskins at a cheap rate. Slowly we crept closer and closer. Fortunately the Ingins were so engaged with their speeches and boasting of their brave deeds in murdering two unhappy men in their sleep, that their usually quick ears did not hear us. At a most critical moment, however, one of our party kicked his foot against a loose stone, which rolled down the bank. Some of the Redskins started and looked up, but they were so engaged in their occupations, some in speech-making, and others in cooking, that, seeing nothing to alarm them, so thick were the bushes, they took no notice of what had occurred. We spread out in a line so as almost to surround them, and then crouching down, waited till all the party were collected together round their evening meal. At a signal from McDonald we were to commence operations. We waited for it in breathless suspense. With a startling effect our first volley sounded through the calm evening air. The Ingin warriors sprang to their feet; it was only to afford us a surer mark. On we sprang, and when within thirty yards, fired point-blank at the poor wretches. Five fell where they stood, shot through the head, several more staggered on mortally wounded; the rest, uttering fearful yells, took to flight. When the smoke cleared off, we discovered that they had halted to see who were their assailants.
“‘On, on, boys!’ shouted Donald, discharging his pistol at the Redskin nearest to him and bringing him to the ground. Then flourishing his formidable axe, he dashed on after the flying wretches.
“Those who had been the worst wounded made their way to a stream, where, in spite of our approach, their faithful squaws joined them, and began to bathe their wounds in the cool water. They knew that, however bad a wound, if the inflammation can be kept down, a man’s life may be saved. Many a poor fellow has died on the battle-field for want of cold water. ‘Let none of you hurt the women,’ shouted Donald, who, rough as he looked, was humane and kind-hearted in his way, as well as brave. Some of our fellows were, however, no better than savages themselves. Before Donald could interfere they had brained four of the wounded men. One of the women tried to save her husband, but two of our party killing the man, hurled her with him into the stream. One of the Redskins, who, badly wounded, was trying to escape, dropped as if he had suddenly fallen dead. His pursuer was about to knock out his brains, when the Ingin sprang to his feet, and tried to seize the gun from his assailant’s hands. He would have succeeded had not one of our party come up with a loaded pistol and shot the Redskin through the head. Donald insisted that the poor women who had so bravely remained by their husbands should be allowed to stay by them near the stream, greatly to the disappointment of some of the Californians, who wanted to kill all they could reach. Having collected all the articles which had been taken from the hut, including the flour, and as much venison as we could carry, we beat a retreat up the hills again. There was little fear of the party we had dispersed attacking us, but they would very likely collect their allies, and if we remained where we were, come down on us in overwhelming numbers. All the tribes in those parts have horses – mustangs they call them – so that they would have had no difficulty in collecting a large body of warriors in a short time, who, if they did not destroy us, would greatly harass us in our marches. Darkness compelled us to camp, and you may be sure we kept a sharp look-out all night, but the varmints had had enough of us, and allowed it to pass quietly.
“The Ingins followed us, however, the next day, though we took a different route to avoid them; but they soon found that we were led by a leader who knew what he was about, and that they were likely to come off second best if they attacked us. We got back safe to the diggings, and I was not sorry either. I am a man of peace, and I don’t like fighting of any sort, much less such murderous work as we had been engaged in – such as shooting a dozen of our fellow-creatures at their supper. Those Ingin murderers deserved punishment; there’s no doubt about that; but I did not fancy punishing them in that way.”
Habakkuk gave us several other anecdotes which he had heard of the redoubtable Scot, Donald McDonald. Among others I remember one which amused us greatly.
“Mr McDonald was very thick with the Redskins at all times, for he had a dark-red wife, and some light-red children, of whom he was very fond, and spent much of his time in the lodges of his wife’s relations. Gambling was then, of course, one of their principal amusements, especially when visitors came in. One day an old chief, Slabface, went into his father-in-law’s lodge, when he, with Donald and others, were soon engaged in gambling. Donald suddenly detected some trick or other, and rushing out into the open air, seizing his gun as he went, declared that he would play no more, and would be revenged on the rascal who had cheated him. Slabface followed, and asked him what he wanted. ‘Satisfaction,’ shouted Donald. ‘You are a cheat, a rogue, and a liar, and you must fight me.’
“‘All in good time; but you are reputed to be a brave chief, and chiefs should not put themselves into a passion,’ answered Slabface, quite coolly.
“‘I want none of your talk. I say again that you are a cheat and a liar!’ exclaimed Donald, getting more and more angry. ‘Will you fight me like a man, I ask?’
“‘A wise man wouldn’t get into so great a passion about so small a thing,’ said the Redskin, doing his utmost to exasperate Donald. ‘If you wish it I’ll fight to please you, though I think your proposal a foolish one. We will go into the wood and settle the matter.’
“‘Into the wood!’ shouted Donald. ‘By no means. Here as we stand, face to face, like men. Shall we fire together, or shall we draw for the first shot?’
“‘Why, now, indeed, I find that you are a far greater idiot than I supposed,’ exclaimed Slabface, in a tone of scorn. ‘Would any but a fool let his enemy point the muzzle of his gun at him, if he could help it? The Red-men are too wise to do such a thing. It is only foolish Pale Faces that fight thus.’
“‘Why how, in the name of sense, do you want to fight?’ exclaimed Donald. ‘I am inviting you to fight in the way all gentlemen fight in Scotland.’
“‘That shows that the gentlemen are fools,’ answered Slabface. ‘We will fight as all Indian warriors fight. We will go into the wood out there with our guns. You shall get behind one tree, and I will get behind another, and we will fire at each other as we can.’
“‘You are a coward, and afraid!’ cried Donald, turning on his heel.
“‘I am not afraid, but I choose that way of fighting,’ answered the chief, in the same calm tone as at first.
“‘Well, then, you shall have your own way,’ exclaimed Donald, who would not have yielded in any other matter of far less importance.
“Slabface, who was a good shot, would too probably have killed our friend, had not a party of us, hearing what was taking place, hurried up and contrived to soothe his anger. Still, to make things sure, we carried off both his arms and those of Slabface.”
Our friend Habakkuk’s account gave us a pretty correct idea of the state of affairs in the early days of the Californian diggings. Matters improved in Australia, though they were bad enough there at first, and I am glad to say that they were conducted still better at Cariboo, and the other diggings of British Columbia.
Trevor and I had soon seen enough of the Golden City and its motley society; the chief of which, a mere money aristocracy, was not at all to our taste. There is a considerable amount of trade between San Francisco and the Sandwich Islands, to which the diggers also often resort to recruit their health. Trevor, who had met Queen Emma at his High Church cousin’s rectory, near Portsmouth, a year ago, was so enthusiastic in her praise, that we determined to return to England by the Panama route, spending some days at Honolulu on our way, and joining the steamer from New Zealand at Tahiti, which is in the direct line to Panama. We accordingly engaged a passage on board a brig, the Banana, bound on a trading voyage to those islands. As I was leaving the office of the agent to whom the Banana was consigned, I found a party of seamen lounging about in front of the door, as seamen of all nations are accustomed to do. These were a curiously mixed set; not only of all nations, but of all colours and tints. There were scarcely two alike. Among them were several negroes. I saw one of them, a fine sailor-like looking fellow, start as he saw me. I looked again, and had little doubt that the man I saw before me was the runaway slave, Marcus. Yet, though he eyed me as some of his companions were doing, not by another glance or sign did he seem to recognise me. He cast also the same indifferent look at Peter and Ready. I stopped for a moment for Trevor, who wished to obtain some additional information about the brig, so that I had time to examine the countenance of the black more narrowly. Every feature was that of the countenance of Marcus. So convinced was I of this, that I was on the point of going up to speak to him, when I reflected that he might possibly have some good reason for not recognising me, as it was not likely that he should have forgotten me and Peter, or the dog.
As I walked on slowly, after Trevor rejoined me, I looked back and saw the black enter the ship-agent’s office. Again, looking back after some time, I saw him following us at a distance, and evidently wishing that it should not be seen that he was doing so. He watched us into our hotel and then disappeared. Some stars of the first magnitude were performing at the opera-house, and we went to hear them. On our return home, as we had nearly reached our hotel and were passing a dark archway, I felt my arm seized, and a voice whispered, “Stop!” I thought that I was about to be robbed, and expected to have a knife stuck into me – so did Trevor – when the voice said:
“I am a friend. Listen. You do not know me; but I know you, and remember that I owe you a deep debt of gratitude never fully to be repaid. I am Marcus – once a slave. I must be brief. You are about to sail in the Banana. A number of rich miners, and others, whose health requires recruiting, are about to proceed in her to the Sandwich Islands. She has also, it is well-known, a rich freight. She has been marked for destruction. A band of desperate men on board a fast vessel purpose following her. Two of them will be sent to ship on board as part of the crew, so that she has not a chance of escape. Take my advice; do not go by her; sacrifice your passage money. Any loss will be better than venturing to sea in that craft. Farewell, Mr Skipwith. I must not detain you, nor must I stay longer here. I owe you much; I am thankful that I have had again an opportunity of serving you. I have run a great risk to do so, and would willingly run a greater. We may never meet again; but believe that I earnestly desire your safety. I will not say I pray for it, for such a wretch as I am cannot pray. If I could, my prayers would turn to curses. Farewell, farewell!”
The last words were said in a tone of deep feeling. Even before I could answer, he had disappeared. I said nothing to Trevor before we got to our hotel. I then told him all I had heard, describing how I had met Marcus, and the opinion I had formed of him.
Trevor looked serious for a few moments, and then he said —
“I must see Marcus myself. Though I do not know him personally, what you have just told me, and what Dick wrote about this man, interests me much, and if he is in trouble again, which I fear he must be, from the stealthy way in which he dodged you, let us try to get him out of it. Black skin or white skin, what does it matter? At bottom he is a noble fellow, and if you see nothing to object to the plan, he shall return with us to Old England; and when there, between us, we can manage to do something for him.”
Of course, I could have no objection, so Trevor set off in search of the fugitive. San Francisco is not the pleasantest place in the world for such a search. There are a good many persons there who have been driven by their crimes out of society at home, and whose reckless way of living at the diggings casts a suspicion upon them, so that folks generally avoid that quarter of the city where they usually congregate, and where I had met Marcus but a few hours before.
I had been left to myself for more than three hours, and it was already getting dark, yet Trevor did not return. I therefore determined to go in search of him. I had just turned the corner of the street in which was the dark arch from which Marcus had emerged, when I saw Trevor and the black approaching. Jack had succeeded in drawing Marcus away from a lawless set of rascals, who were pirates of the worst class, by whom the latter had recently been captured, and had had his life spared upon taking the usual oath to join the crew of his captors. He was closely watched by them, so that Trevor could not get near him till the shades of evening had fairly set in.
Jack and Marcus were not long in bringing me to their way of thinking, that overland would be our safer way of reaching England; so we determined to lose our passage money, and on Marcus’s account more particularly, to take the easiest and quickest route to New York. Peter would not leave me, and is still a member of my household, dealing often in the marvellous, and frightening the maids in the kitchen with his narratives of shipwreck and crocodiles, of pirates and savages, and of blood and murder.
With our quitting San Francisco our perils and adventures came to an end, and we reached Liverpool in time to see Marcus on his way to Liberia, with letters of recommendation, before accepting dear Aunt Becky’s invitation to spend Christmas at Merton Lodge, and to spread out before her the trophies I had promised at starting, among which her drawing-room exhibits, by way of hearth-rugs, two panther skins, and, in large glazed cases, a lot of stuffed birds and reptiles, including a rattlesnake and a boa-constrictor.
I need not say that Ready is a great favourite with all the household, and that with true canine sagacity he knows how to make the most of his popularity. He seems to imply by his manner that the stuffed trophies would scarcely have been where they are but for him, and his bright eyes express as plainly as tongue can do Quorum pars magna fui, whenever Trevor and I have to narrate, for dear aunt’s repeated gratification, how the living creatures themselves were captured and where they ran wild.
