THE ARGONAUTS OF CALIFORNIA.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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CHAPTER XVIII.

 

WHY ARE SO MANY OF THE OLD-TIMERS SO POOR--THE UNCERTAINTY OF MINING--TEX AND BARTON LEE--TEX AND THE HOUND--TEX ON BOARD THE STEAMER--TEX AT GOLGONA.

 

AN old rancher, a neighbor of Mike, who was present, now asked the question, why it was that so many of the old pioneers were so poor? for being here at the first, when the mines were so rich, the gold so easy to get, and all kinds of business so good, they should all be wealthy now.

      “No! not all!” explained Mike. “It is thrue although that we old pioneers got ther crame ov it by being here first, but yez see we thought, ‘twas jest agoin’ to last ther whole toime, and that there could be no ind to it, do yez moind, so we spint our money frayly, for it come aisy, an’ went ther same way. Whin ther shallow placer mines begun to give out, an’ we could only make small wages, do yez see, thin ther by’s commenced to tramp about among ther mountains to hunt for richer diggings, for after workin’ such rich claims at first, they were not contint to work for smaller wages, an’ ther most of thim spint their money in that way, do yez see, in thrampin’ about ther country prospecting for richer diggings.

      “An’ thin, agin, the old Forty-niners are as a general rule better known and more prominent than any other class thin, an’ many ov thim being poor, yez are all afther concludin’ that we are all afther being that same. But do yez moind thin, me by’s, I tell yez that there’s jest as great a proportion ov the old pioneers who have made their pile, an’ who have kept it, as yez’ll be afther findin’ among any other class ov min, be jabbers. Tis thrue enough, me b’ys, that a very small proportion ov yez old pioneers who are at prisint livin’ in ther minin’ regions have saved enough to harrum yez, because if yez had that same, yez wudn’t stay here at all, at all, but yez wud be afther strikin’ out for ther big cities below with the rest ov ther b’ys who made their pile in the minin’ ragions an’ wint down there to spind

 

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it, begorra. A great many of thim wint into business in ther big city an’ are in business yit, many ov them wint aist an’ hundreds ov thim are now in business in the cities ov New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, an’ other places, an’ be jabers they are afther houldin their own, too, with ther best of’em. Now, me by’s, yez know that the greater portion of thim old pioneers are a long-lived race, an’ be jabers you’ll foind that they continue workin’ good pay ground as long as any other class of paple in ther world.

      “For don’t yez know, by’s, that no class ov min in any business continue to prosper only about so many years? A great many ov thim in early days spent their kine fraly in prospecing thim river beds, in building quartz mills, as well as in runnin’ long an’ expinsive tunnels in ther hills in sarching for thim ancient river beds, an’ be jabers! They weren’t afraid to spind their kine fraly to develop ther country for ther benefit ov all ov yez see, now? But the ould time prospectors are ther poorest ov the lot so yez moind, an’ tis for ther raison that they spind their toime thrampin’ about among ther mountains searching for a rich mine; an’ indade thin ‘tis thrue enough that many ov thim do succade in foindin one of thim occasionally that was afther havin’ a fortune in it, but divil a bit can ther ould-time work it at all, for, be gob, he has no kine to do that same. So ther poor divil, aftehr havin’ spint his toime in huntin’ for a mine, is obliged, do yez see, to spind more toime in huntin’ for some chap who has got ther kine to help him work it, or else to buy it, an’ he is finally obliged to sell it for jest what they plase to give him.

      “This is soon spint, an’ thin he is afther commincin’ his endless thramp agin over mountains an’ through ther various minin’ ragions from Arizona up to ther Arctic ocean, to diskiver anither rich mine to sell in ther same style. ‘Tis for this raison that yez ould prospectors are afther bein’ continually down on ther bed rock. Be jabers! Oh, yis, ‘tis thrue enough, as yez say, that yez have ther pleasure of traveling over the counthry an’ of makin’ rich diskiveries for others to rape ther benefit ov, an’, idade, that is some satisfaction for yez, be gorra!”

      Another one remarked that “some of the reasons why many of the old-timers were at the present time so poor were that they acquired the habit of spending their money freely in early days, be

 

 

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cause it came easy and they thought that the rich mines would be more lasting. In my opinion, therefore, it is in the nature of the business, as placer mining was in early days, when wages were an ounce a day and when hundreds were making double, and even treble that almost daily; such conditions had the effect to destroy all habits or ideas of economy.”

      “Yis, indade,” said Mike, “but ther great majority of yez niver larned the manin’ of ther tarm economy at all, at all. But ‘twas not spind yez money so fraely thin; but, be gorra, ‘twas natural to ther most ov yez, an’ indade, thin, ‘twas this fault that made yez ther Forty-niners, an’ be jabers, it saims to stick right by ther most of yez.”

      “That reminds,’ said Jeff, “of a remark I heard a Dutchman make once who kept a store up on Bear River in ‘56. Says he, ‘I could always shust knows dem ‘49 vellers ven dey was come into mine store, mit mine eyes all shut up.’ ‘I asked him why.’ ‘Vel, den, ven one of dose vellers comes in to buy sometings, he says, Old Vellers, have you got some of dot stuff dot vas pooty goot? I says I was. Vell, den, he says, you shust fills up mine jug; So I fills up dot jug, and he pays me, und den he goes right away pooty soon.

      “Vel, den, pooty quick some dose other vellers, he comes in mine store, und he says, “Jacob, has you got some dem tings? ‘I speaks to him I vas. Vell, den, he dells me how I sells dem, and I speaks to him how mooch.’ “Vell,” he say, “couldn’t you sell dose a leetle more cheaper as dot.” ‘I speak to him no. Vell, den, he tells me shust to gives him drei pints, and put em in mit vour of dose bottles. Vell den he shust goes mit de corner round, and dakes up one of dem bottles under his nose and pooty soon he speaks, “Jacob, von’t you shust fill up dot bottles vot leaked out?” ‘So I puts ‘em in a leetle more, und den he pays me dem monies, und he goes right away mit dem bottles. Und dot vas vy I does, ain’t it?”

      At this point in the conversation in regard to the present poverty of many of the old-timers, Jeff remarked.

      “Well, Mike, ‘tis true enough that the most of us old prospectors have failed in our expectations of making another raise at mining, or at any rate in being able to save what we have made in the past;

 

 

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yet ‘tis some consolation for us to know that there was in a time once when we were able to make a big splurge in the big city below when we make them a visit with our pockets filled with dust, and give the chaps down there to understand that we knew where there was a plenty more of the same sort of stuff when that was done.’

      “But divil a bit, thin,” retorted Mike, “is ther thought ov thim days ov plinty an big diggings any consolation to yez at all, at all, in yez ould age. Indade, thin, ther thoughts ov sich prosperity in ther past only makes our prisint poverty saim ther greater by the contrast, thin. For, begorra, ther ain’t a divil a one ov us but who’d be moity willin’ now in our ould age to swap off all ov thim, an’ we wuldn’t be afther askin’ any boot aither, for just a few short years ov rest an’ quiet now in ur ould age, fray from want an’ care, without bein’ obliged to be containualy thrampin’ about all over ther counthry tryin’ to make a dacent living.”

      Tennessee remarked: “Well, Mike, after all the great uncertainty in the business of mining, yet there is a fascination about it that many of us cannot resist, for there is a continual expectation that we will soon strike the right spot.”

      “Yis, indade, there is that same, thin, an’, be jabers, I was afther thinking’ meself, in early days, that moinin’ was jist ther finest an’ the most facinatin’ business in ther wuorld; for do yez moind, thin, it made no difference how much we was afther makin’ on our claim. Whither ‘twas one ounce or tin ov thim, we was always afther ixpictin’ that ther nixt day ‘twud be double, do yez see. ‘Twas these containul ixpictations, do yez moind, that made ther business so facinatin’, begorra ! Whin at wurruk in ther ravine we was ivery day expictin’, do yez moind, that soon we wud be afther jist shovelin’ ther gould up by ther bucket full, as they did over in Georgetown gulch. An’ thin, again, we wud soon be after ixpictin’ to find a rich crivise, when we could take out ther gould by thet ton, as they did over in Alder gulch, Montana, be jabers. Thin, agin, we was always jist ixpictin’ in our tunnel to sthrike a spot ov blue gravel, whin we wud take out ther gould by ther car load, as ther b’y’s did from Forest Hill. Faith, thin, me b’ys,  ‘twas these continual ixpictations in early days that made ther business of minin’ so facinatin’, but thin ther continual disappintments that many ov us met

 

 

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with destroys in toime ther facination av their business, an’ we are contint to thry to make a livin’ in some other manner an’ let thim b’ys who havn’t  lost ther faith in ther business still continue it, in ther hope that some day yez’ll be afther sthrikin ther right spot, where yez’ll foind a fortune ready waitin’ for yez.

      Some one asked Mike what had become of his old partner, Pat Kennedy, whom he worked with on French Flat in ‘54. Mike answered that Pat got hurt in a shaft up in Placer County in ‘56, and died soon after. He stated that Pat and Uncle Tim Winn were at work sinking a shaft and that Tim let the bucket slip out of his hands, and down it went upon the top of Pat’s head.

      “I had a talk with Uncle Tim about it,” said Mike, “an’ Tim says to me: ‘An’, indade, Mike, I was jist afther hookin’ on the tub to sind it down to Pat, an’ it slipped out ov me hands an’ down it wint, an’ I took a glance down the shaft thin, ixpictin’ to see Pat somewhere in the last stage ov a rapid decline, do yez moind, but divil a bit was he decloinin’ at all, for he was standin; upon his fate an’ reclining’ against the side ov that shaft. Says I: “Is it much harmed that yez are, Pat?” “Divil a vit am I at all, but me brains are all knocked out intoirly, and ‘tis spaichless, too, that I am, Tim.”

      “Say, Jeff,” says Tennessee, “do you remember Tex who worked with me in that gulch down in old Tuolumne? ‘twas long in the spring of ‘50.”

      “Oh, yes,” answered Jeff, “that tall, good-looking, blue-eyed chap.”

      “Well, when I was up in the Salmon River country in ‘65, I heard some of the miners speaking about a chap they called Ted, who was said to be an old Forty-niner, and was at work in a cañon a few miles above. I jest felt that he might be my old pard that I hadn’t seen or heard of for ten or twelve years, so I found the trail to the cañon and went up to see him. Yes, sure enough, ‘twas Tex; I knew him as soon as I come in sight of him. He had found a rich spot and lived like a king. He put me onto a good claim in the cañon above him, and I worked there for a year and made quite a raise; but I found the winters too cold for me up there, so I sold out and left. I tell you but Tex was clear grit, though. You remember the time when Barton Lee of Sacramento City busted up and swindled so many of the boys out of their gold dust? Well,

 

 

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Tex had $5,000 worth of gold dust deposited there in Lee’s safe. I think ‘twas long in the spring of ‘50 that we first got the news that Lee had busted. The boys who had deposited their dust with him made a rush for Sacramento City, now, you bet. But, oh, pshaw! It weren’t any use. They couldn’t git anything. A few of them, I heard afterwards, made out to git a little something. Well, now, you see, when the news first come up, I asked Tex if he wasn’t goin’ down, for I noticed that he didn’t seem to hurry or fret about it. ‘Oh, says he, ‘I reckon I will, but there’s no hurry about it.’ Now

 

 

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Tex waited for some of the boys to return, and report what the prospect was, and then he started down. I tell you there was black sand in the corner of his eye as he stepped into the stage the next morning, and say I to myself, ‘Old Barton, old Barton, take keer of yourself, for you are agoin’ to have a visitor from old Tuolomne!’ Well, upon his arrival in Sacramento, he found Lee’s office, and in front of it was a large, powerful negro acting in the capacity of doorkeeper. Says Tex to him, ‘Is Mr. Lee in his office?’

      “’No, sah, no, sah, he am not, sah!’

      “’Well, I know a d----d sight better,’ says Tex.

      “’ Well, you can’t see him, sah, for he’s busy, sah.’

      “But before the astonished doorkeeper could scrape himself together again from among the pile of old rubbish in the corner, Tex was inside the room, and with the door locked upon the inside.

      “He found Mr. Lee alone, writing at his table. He laid his certificate of deposit upon the table in front of him, and remarked in a very quiet, pleasant manner:

      “’Mr. Lee, that paper calls for $5,000 worth of gold dust, and I will give you just two minutes to open that safe and pass it out.’

      “Mr. Lee would like to make an explanation and argue the case; but ‘not a word, sir; when you open that safe, and I find there is no money or gold dust in it, then I will listen to any explanation which you wish to give, and not before, so hurry up, if you please.’

      “Mr. Lee then in a very haughty manner turned and looked Tex in the eye. He saw color in among the black sand in the corner of it, fixed his eyes upon that funny, innocent-looking gold saving machine which Tex was holding in his hand, slid in a kind of hurried sort of way over the back of his chair to his safe, unlocked it, counted out $5,000 all in slugs, put them into a little canvas sack, and handling it to Tex, remarked that it was all right. ‘You bet,’ says Tex, and politely bidding Bartow good-day, he left.”

      “Well,” says another old-timer whom they called Pete, “that reminds me of another one of the same breed who lived up in Coloma. His name was Crumie, George Crumie, if I remember. This chap kept a saloon up there, and I believe was the only one in the camp who had an iron safe at that time, for this was along in the spring of ‘50, I think. Now, Mr. Crumie was a very obliging man, and was

 

 

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willing for us miners to keep our sacks of dust in his safe. Well, one day Mr. Crumie concluded that he had some very important business to attend to in San Francisco, and now was a grand opportunity for any of the boys to send down for any little thing they wanted, as Mr. Crumie was willing to attend anything of that kind, and wouldn’t charge a cent for his trouble. The consequence was that he had quite a list of articles to purchase for us, and the dust in his pocket to pay for’em.

      “The morning Mr. Crumie left the camp ‘twas noticed that his baggage was rather numerous, and quite hefty, too, for a man who was jest goin’ down on business and who was intending to come right back agin, do you see. But little attention was paid to his baggage, however, and all was supposed to be right until a few days after he left, when word was brought up to Coloma that Mr. George Crumie was on board of a steamer, and on his way to New York. Upon receiving this unwelcome news, the boys concluded that something was wrong. The safe was at once broken open, for he had taken the key with him, and found empty. It was estimated that there was at least was at least $25,000 in gold dust deposited there by different miners, besides about $7,000 belonging to his pardner, John O’Donnell, who was then living in Hangtown. That explained the use of them heavy trunks that some of us helped to load upon the stage for him the day he started.”

      Pete was asked if Crumie had ever been heard of since? “No,” he answered, “not that I am sure of; but only a few years ago I was informed that a Mr. George Crumie was residing in the city of ________, and following the profession of gambling.”

      Tennessee now remarked that ther was another little incident or two in which his old pard Tex took an active part that he would like to tell; one of them occurred in a small town upon the Mississippi river near Memphis, in the fall of ‘51. “Tex and I concluded to go home on a visit for a short time in the fall of ‘51, and on the way we stopped at the little town for a few days to see some old acquaintances, and it was there that the little incident occurred. We met rather unexpectedly a man that we didn’t think of meeting. Of course you all remember that company of outlaws that created so much excitement here in California in ‘49, called The Hounds.

      “There was, I think, about twenty of them, and their objects was when they first formed to clean out the Mexican horse and cattle

 

 

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thieves who infested the central and lower parts of the State at that time. They accomplished their purpose, and very effectually, too, in a short time, but this job finished what to do next was the question to decide, which they were not long in doing, however, for the precedent had been established many years before by the renowned Captain Kidd, with which fact they were all doubtless familiar. They therefore decided to go and do likewise upon their hook, and roam at will among the hills of the mining regions, as well as among the ranches of the valleys, as land buccaneers.

      “They were a desperate set of men, and had no scruples whatever about taking the life of any one who opposed them. Rewards were offered by a committee of citizens for their capture or destruction, and the band was finally broken up and dispersed, many of them being forced to flee the country.

      “One of these Hounds was a man whom Tex had heard of before, and a few years previous had resided near the small town where I have said that we stopped for a few days. By the way, while in San Francisco a few days before starting on our voyage home, by accident Tex picked up an old handbill from a table in the hotel where we were stopping, signed by the committee of citizens and Governor Burnett also, I think, offering a reward of $1,000 for the capture of this very man I refer to. Well, while sitting in the bar-room of a hotel in the small town, in conversation with old acquaintances, Tex made the remark that this man, who formerly lived near here, had been a member of the band of outlaws in California called The Hounds, and inquired if it was known what had ever become of him, and I tell you, boys, we were both astonished when informed that that man was at the present time a resident of the place, and was running a faro game in a house across the street. We were further informed that he was a very dangerous character.

      “Now you may depend that this news to us was not very pleasant at this particular time, and if we had known it we should never have mentioned his name, but Tex was in for it now, and of course I was bound to stand by my pard.

      “One of this man’s friends, who was present and heard the statement from Tex, went over and informed him at once that a man at the hotel, right from California, has stated all the particulars of his connection with The Hounds, and of the reward offered for his

 

 

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capture. Well, we expected, of course, to receive a visit from the gentleman, and we didn’t have long to wait, for in a few minutes the door was thrown open and in walked a large, powerfully built man who was every inch a Hound, and he showed it in his black, glistening eyes. He walked right up to Tex, who was sitting in a chair, and demanded his authority for the statement, or instant satisfaction for the foul slander, at the same time placing his hand upon the handle of his weapon. Tex drew his weapon instantly, and, rising to his feet, replied in a very quiet manner:

      “’Well, sir, you can have both if you wish, and first here is my authority,’ at the same time taking the handbill from his pocket he shook it out, and stepping backwards a few steps to the side of the room, fastened it to the wall, remarking: ‘There, sir, is my authority for the statement I have made, signed by the Governor, and now if you demand satisfaction you shall have it at once, but if you make the least motion to draw your weapon you are a dead Hound.’

      “The man immediately left the house, and that night left the town upon finding that his friends had all deserted him.”

      One of the boys asked Tennessee what steamer he sailed on when he returned East in ‘51, and if there were many other forty-niners who went East upon the same steamer? He stated that they took passage in the steamer “Sierra Nevada” from San Francisco, and upon the steamer “Illinois” from Chagres to New York, the latter commanded by Lieutenant Herndon, who was lost when the steamer “Central America” foundered a few years later in the Caribbean Sea. There were about 700 passengers on board the steamer when we left San Francisco, and as near as we could judge at that time about 500 of them were Forty-niners. Some were going East to remain, but by far the greater portion were going to see their friends, relatives, and the girls they left behind them, and with the intention of returning soon again to California.

      It was while crossing the Isthmus that another little incident occurred, in which Tex took an active part. It illustrates the character of the man, and how ready he always was to help any one in trouble. In crossing the Isthmus at that time we traveled on foot or by mule power to the small town of Golgona, which place is at the head of navigation, and from here down the Chagres River by boat to the town of Chagres. Now Tex, myself, and a few

 

 

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others, arrived at Golgona ahead of the crowd of passengers from Panama early in the afternoon, intending, of course, to take passage immediately down the river. But as we were upon the point of starting we were informed by one of the passengers of the steamer, John L. Stevens, that a friend of his, who was also a passenger upon the same steamer, was confined in the calaboose there upon the evidence of one of the natives, who swore that the American had refused to pay him for transporting his trunk from Panama. Upon this accusation the American was arrested and confined in the native prison, a large log house near the town. Upon investigation we found this man to be a Forty-niner, a man about 60 years of age, and from the State of Ohio. We were allowed to converse with him through the iron-grated window, and he stated that he paid the native in advance at Panama one ounce, as agreed upon, for transporting his baggage, and didn’t think it right to compel him to pay it again upon the evidence of the native.

      To leave this old Forty-niner locked up was not to be thought of, Tex proposed, therefore, that we wait until our passengers had all arrived in the place, then make a demand for his release of the Alcalde, and in case of refusal, to release him ourselves and take him down the river with us.

      About four p.m. the passengers had all arrived and we were ready for business. A committee was appointed to wait upon the Alcalde, a large powerful negro, dressed in full regimentals, with a cavalry sword suspended to his waist, and explain to him the facts in the case and demand the man’s release; but the old commander felt the dignity of his position, and in a very lofty and dignified manner refused to liberate the Americano until he had settled the account.

      Suspecting trouble the Alcalde called out his native troops, numbering about 200 men, to guard the prison. They were armed with a great variety of weapons, consisting of the old-fashioned flint-lock musket, pistols, swords and clubs. Among them the old style brass blunderbuss was numerous, as well as other styles of deadly weapons. I tell you, boys, they were about as ferocious and formidable a looking set of warriors as you would care to run afoul of in a dark night if you didn’t know who they were; but during an engagement the safest place, in my opinion, would be right in front of them.

 

 

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      Well, Tex took charge of the boys, and with a big sledge hammer in his hand we formed into line between the native troops and the calaboose. Tex drew his watch from his pocket and holding it up before the eyes of the Alcalde gave him (the latter) to understand, by pointing to the hands of it, that when the short hand had got to the figure five if the door wasn’t opened he would open it with his sledge, and, furthermore, if he ordered his troops to fire off their guns and things that some of them would get badly hurt. The Alcalde drew his huge sword from its scabbard, flourished it above his head, and at the same time ordered his troops to turn around, face the music and make ready, which they succeeded in doing after some little trouble; but at the same time Tex remarked: “Now, boys, show’em what you’re got, and we’ll soon show’em that we know how to use them, too.” Every man instantly drew his gun. They were mostly single-barreled pistols, although there was a great number of the latest style of revolver, the Smith & Wesson, among them, but they were sufficient for the purpose.

      As soon as the time was up Tex held his watch up before the

 

 

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eyes of the Alcalde, replaced it carefully in his pocket, at the same time raising the sledge above his head and advancing toward the prison door. Would the swarthy commander order his troops to fire? He ran his eye along the line of his brave army, then took a careful survey of the crowd of Americans in front of the prison, and looked at the little insignificant weapons that they held in their hands. Would he uphold the dignity of his position and give the order to fire and save his reputation as a warrior? He hesitated; suppose he should get hurt and his army annihilated? Taking the key from his pocket he unlocked the prison door, and the old Forty-niner was free.

      Upon our return to California a few months later the fact had been made known that the native did actually receive his pay for transporting the American’s trunk. He was tried and found guilty, and the Alcalde sentenced him to receive 100 lashes and confined him in prison for year.

 

 

 

 

 

Transcribed by: Jeanne Sturgis Taylor.

Proofread by Betty Vickroy.


© 2008 Jeanne Sturgis Taylor.

 

 

 

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