behind the mound had been carved in a nearby tree the previous summer: “To the memory of Daniel Browett, Ezra H. Allen, and Henderson Cox, who were supposed to have been murdered and buried by Indians on the night of the twenty-seventh of June, A.D. 1848.”
“This is the place Jim spoke of,” Rudolph whispered. “They were the scouts for the Mormons.”
The company’s members removed their hats and lowered their heads before moving on to drink from Tragedy Springs. These dead strangers’ bravery humbled those gathered by the memorial. They were thankful for the road that the Mormons had built with their sweat and blood. None of the company ever again would fall asleep while on guard duty, as had been their habit on the plains, in the Rockies, and in the deserts. There would be many nights of such duty for those who returned home by land.
14
It took James and Thomas six days to travel from San Francisco to Sacramento. Steamboats were not yet plying the Sacramento River, the Delta, and the bays between California’s two largest cities. One could either go by foot, stagecoach, horse, rowboat, raft, larger sailing vessel, or a combination of them. The smaller sailboats appeared to be the least expensive and quickest to the two, whose combined funds had dwindled to little more than $200 because of the expensive passage from Nicaragua to San Francisco on the converted whaler. With the winds often contrary and at times nonexistent, their vessel, which was a lifeboat rigged with a sail and piloted by an enterprising barber from San Francisco, made slow progress. Its captain told of his abrupt change of professions.
“When there was no one wanting a haircut because they all took off to the gold strike I went out of business. So I bought this lifeboat from one of the abandoned ships. My wife sewed the sail from part of the sail that I was able to salvage from the same boat. The caretaker for the ship threw that in for free. Sort of had to jerry rig the mast, though, as you can tell.”
The mast consisted of four red and white barber poles nailed together between two ten-foot long two- by four-foot boards. A barber chair served as the captain’s perch as he navigated the maze of islands, rivers, and marshes that made up the route. It fascinated James and perplexed Thomas.
“This looks like parts of Georgia and Florida.” James admired the almost jungle-like vegetation and beautiful wildlife of the Delta.
“It looks like a slow way to go to Sacramento.” Thomas fumed. “It’s taking too long.”
“Sorry you feel that way,” the captain replied. “But I have to pull off the river and into the delta at night. Otherwise one of the bigger ships that travel the river at night might run right into us. There’s fewer pirates back in the delta, too. They love to do their thieving at night on the river.” He offered Thomas a free shave and haircut to try and satisfy the anxious passenger.
After docking in Sacramento Thomas bought a newspaper and tried to determine the going rates for horses, picks, shovels, and pans in which to swirl the sand and gravel that hid the gold. They eventually decided that better deals might be had for equipment and livestock by approaching anyone that appeared to be heading away from the gold fields. Besides, if they paid the advertised prices, there would be no money left for food or blankets. The fifth store that they visited had lower prices than the others that they had perused. Happy for the bargains, they purchased two backpacks, two blankets, two metal plates and spoons, one frying pan, and as much food as they could cram into the packs.
“That’ll be $57.25, sir.” The owner held out his hand.
“Why is everything so much more expensive in California?” Thomas handed him three $20 gold pieces.
“We can’t keep enough goods in stock. If the crews would only quit deserting their ships and taking off to the diggings then we would have five, maybe ten times as much merchandise to sell.” He gave Thomas the change.
“How come you charge less than the other stores we go to?” James wondered aloud.
“Simple. You notice that my store is the one furthest from the river. So I’m at least five feet higher up than the other stores you went to. When it floods they lose part of their goods and sometimes have repairs to make to their building. Not me. See that watermark there by the door?”
James and Thomas turned to see the four-inch high mark.
“Yes.”
“Well that’s as high as the water ever got for me. I piled everything on top of the counter and barrels ‘til the water went back down. Didn’t lose a thing.” He helped them pack their supplies. “By being at this spot on the east side of town I’m also the first place lots of the miners heading into Sacramento from the diggings stop at. So I get their business, too. Most of them are starving from the long walk.”
“Maybe you can help us. Our money is almost gone and…”
The storekeeper lifted his hand and shook his head. “Sorry, son. I don’t do any grubstakes. A mite too risky for my blood.”
“Grubstake? What is that?”
“That’s where someone gives a prospector money for what he needs in return for a share of whatever the miner finds. Only works if the miner’s honest and is good at finding gold. You two look honest enough but my guess is that both of you are brand new to prospecting. You look like you just stepped off of boat from back east. Especially the way you’re dressed. Your clothes aren’t worn out like those who come overland by wagon.”
“Never heard of grubstake. Sorta sounds like sharecropping.” James frowned. He knew that having to split their gold with a third party would only complicate their venture.
“Me either,” Thomas said. “What I was wondering is do you think we could buy two horses and a tent from a miner for $100 or so?”
“Not too likely. Last tent I sold was for $65 brand new. Horses, at least the ones with some miles left in them, are going to cost a lot, especially if they throw in the saddle and tack and all. Why do you need a horse anyways?”
“To get to the gold. We were told that the closest diggings are 50 miles from here.”
“Look here. You’d be better off buying one mule or donkey between the two of you. You can load your supplies and equipment on it and walk to the gold fields. If the ones coming overland can walk at least 2,000 miles, you can at least walk 50 miles, can’t you?”
Thomas had done little in the way of long hikes since leaving Germany. One of his main reasons for not going overland to reach California was because he had heard that most who did ended up walking most of or the entire trail. He grimaced at the thought of a 50-mile hike to reach their goal. His years as an indentured servant and store clerk had left him soft and flabby.
“Don’t you worry, Thomas.” James tried to cheer him. “Every place we goes we get the people to draw up maps. That way we know all the shortcuts and get there quicker with less walking.”
“Where you headed from here?’
“Sutter’s Fort.”
“You don’t need a map for that. It’s no more than three miles from here. Go left on the dirt road when you leave here.”
When the fort’s thick adobe walls came into view through the oak trees that surrounded the road Thomas broke into a trot. He slowed as he came closer and saw the destruction. Fields that had produced great harvests now were mostly mud or caked soil. The few remaining livestock rooted around the fort as they searched for anything edible. The inside of the fort was in disrepair. It took Thomas a few minutes to find his hero, John Sutter.
Arriving in California in 1839 after escaping from Germany and his angry creditors, Sutter was more of a visionary than businessman. Several of his earlier pursuits elsewhere in America also had ended in bankruptcy. Persuasive wherever he went, Sutter then had convinced the Mexican governor of California to grant him 50,000 acres around the juncture of the American and Sacramento rivers in return for his becoming a Mexican citizen. He had built his fort as the headquarters of his kingdom. In less than a decade that empire had included 1,000 hogs, 2,000 horses and mules, 10,000 sheep, 12,000 cattle, and yielded almost 40,000 bushels of wheat a year.
In 184
7 he had a sawmill built 50 miles northeast from the fort to supply lumber to build a mill for processing the wheat into flour. It was there in 1848 that his employees had discovered gold. The resulting hordes of fortune seekers acted as predators and parasites toward everything that Sutter owned. All of this Thomas sadly learned as he sat inside of Sutter’s office. Born and raised in Switzerland, Sutter spoke German. As he and Thomas spoke in their native tongue Sutter held nothing back. The more that Sutter revealed the sadder Thomas became.
“When the miners came they were like locusts. No, an invading mob of Mongols might be a better description. They stole everything. My sheep, hogs, cattle, mules, horses. They took my millstones, canons, and hundreds of my salmon barrels. The heathen even stole two of the fort’s bells and all the flour I had for sale.”
“But where were the police?”
“There’s little in the way of law and order in the West, Thomas. I learned that the hard way. I had dreams of making my lands an example of what can be done with the land here in California but they trampled and ruined all of my crops. I lost about $25,000 worth at Natoma and over $10,000 at Coloma. I now live at Hock Farm.”
“Where is that?” Thomas hoped that it was near the diggings so that he could visit occasionally with his newfound friend.
“North of here by the Feather River. I’m only down