Browne John Ross
Crusoe's Island: A Ramble in the Footsteps of Alexander Selkirk
All troubles must end. Ours ended when the animals gave out for want of breath. Upon picking up our scattered regiment, with all arms and equipments used in the melee, we found the result as follows: Dead, none; wounded by kicks, scratches, sprains, and bruises, six; mortally frightened, the whole party, inclusive of our captain; lost, a keg of whisky, which some say went down to Lake Valley; but I have my suspicions where that keg went, and how it was secreted.
From this point over the summit we met several more pack trains, and had an occasional tumble in the snow. Nothing more serious occurred. It was quite dark as we commenced our descent. The road here was a running stream of mud, obstructed by slippery rocks, ruts, stumps, and dead animals. It was a marvel to me how we ever reached the bottom without broken bones. My horse stumbled about every hundred yards, but never fell more than three quarters down. Somehow people rarely get killed in this country, unless shot by revolvers or bad whisky.
CHAPTER IX.
ARRIVAL IN SAN FRANCISCO
The crowds were thicker than ever at Strawberry. From all accounts the excitement had only just commenced. Five thousand were represented to be on the road from the various diggings throughout California. I had bargained for a bed, and was enjoying the idea of a good supper – the savory odor of which came through the cracks of the bar-room door – when our captain announced that he could get no feed for his animals, and we must ride on to "Dick's," fourteen miles more. This was pretty tough on a sick man. The ride since morning had been quite hard enough to try the strength and temper of a well man; but add fourteen miles to that, of a dark night and raining into the bargain, and the sum total is not agreeable. It was useless to remonstrate. The captain was inflexible. He could not see his horses starve. One was just giving his last kick, and three more were about to "go in." I might stay if I pleased, suggested the captain, but the horses must go on. As I had paid thirty dollars for the ride, and had barely enough left to get to San Francisco, there was no alternative but to mount. By this time three of the party were so ill as to be scarcely able to sit in their saddles.
It is wonderful how much one can endure when there is nobody at hand to care a pin whether he lives or dies. I rather incline to the opinion that many people in this world die from the kindness and sympathy of friends, who, if thrown upon their own resources, would weather it out.
I have an impressive recollection of the fourteen miles from Strawberry to "Dick's." My horse, Guyascutas, broke down about half way. The rest of the party pushed on. About the same time the old torture of rheumatism and neuralgia assailed me in full force. It was pitch dark. There was no stopping-place nearer than "Dick's." The weather was cold, and a drenching rain had now penetrated my clothes to the skin.
A distinct recollection of my feelings a month ago, as I tramped along over this road with my pack on my back, afforded me ample material for philosophical reflection. Was it now somebody else – some decrepit old fogy who had lost his all, and had nothing more to expect in this world? Or could it possibly be the glowing enthusiast, just freed from the trammels of office, and inspired by visions of mountain life, liberty, and wealth? If it was the same – and there could hardly be any mistake about it, unless some mysterious translation of the spirit into some other body had taken place at Virginia Creek – the visions of mountain life, liberty, and unbounded riches were certainly of a very different character.
In addition to the peculiarity in the hind-quarters of Guyascutas, which caused him always to make two trails at the same time, I had now reason to suspect that he was entirely blind of one eye, and afflicted with a cataract on the other. Every hundred yards or so he walked off the road, and brought up in some deep cavity or against a pile of rocks. The mud in many places was up to his haunches, and if there was a comparatively dry spot any where in existence, he was sure to avoid it. I think he disliked me on account of the spurring I gave him on the Grade, and wanted to get rid of me in some way; or perhaps he considered his own course of life beyond farther endurance.
The result of all the stumbling, and running into deep pits, banks of rock, and mud-holes was, that I had to get down and walk the remainder of the way. If a conviction had not taken possession of my mind that the captain would compel me to pay for the horse in the event of failure to produce him, I would cheerfully have left him to his fate and proceeded alone; but, under the circumstances, I thought it best to lead him. At last the welcome lights hove in sight. It was not long before I was snugly housed at Dick's, where a good cup of tea brought life and hope back again. This, I may safely say, was my hardest day's experience of travel in any country.
Next day poor Guyascutas was so far gone on his long journey that I had to leave him at a stable on the road-side, and proceed on foot. By night I was within six miles of Placerville. Here I overtook a fellow-traveler, and bargained with him for his horse. From Placerville, by stage to Sacramento, the journey is devoid of interest. I arrived at San Francisco in due time, a little the worse for the wear, but still equal to any new emergency that might arise.
The citizens of San Francisco were on the qui vive for news from Washoe. Almost every man with a dollar to spare, and many who had nothing to spare, had invested, to a greater or less extent, in claims – from thousands of feet down to a few inches. Conflicting accounts had recently come down. The public mind was in a state of feverish excitement. Was Washoe a humbug, or was it not? Was there silver there, or was it all sham? What was the Ophir worth at this time? How about the Billy Choller and the Miller? These were but a few of the questions asked me on Montgomery Street. It required an hour to walk fifty yards, so great was the pressure for news. Could I tell any thing about the Winnemuck, or the Pine Nut, or the Rogers? Did I happen to know what the Wake-up-Jake was worth in Washoe? What about the Lady Bryant – was it true that it had gone down? Whereabouts was the Jim Crack located, and what was Dead Broke worth? In short, I looked over more deeds, and answered more questions of a varied and indefinite nature, in the brief space of three days, than had ever been put to and answered by any one man before.
The editor of the Bulletin, who had made a flying visit to Washoe, and in whose company I had traveled down from Placerville, commenced about this time a series of articles, in which he told some startling truths. Base metal had been found in the Comstock; to what extent it prevailed nobody could tell. If the Comstock should prove to be worthless, what hope was there for the "outside claims."
The news spread like wild-fire. A panic seized upon the multitudes whose funds were invested in Washoe. Men hurried about the streets in search of purchasers of Washoe stock; but purchasers were nowhere to be found. Every body wanted to sell. The Comstock suddenly fell from one thousand down to five dollars per foot, and no sales at that. Miller went down fifty per cent.; and the Great Outside could scarcely be given away at any price! Alas! had it come to this? The gigantic Washoe speculation "gone in," and none so poor to do it reverence!
Softly! A word in your ear, reader! They are only "bucking it down" for purposes of speculation. The keen men who know a thing or two are buying up secretly. The silver is there, and it must come out. All this cry about base metal is "a dodge" to frighten the timid. If you have claims, hold on to them; they will be up again presently.
For my part, I thought it best to leave San Francisco before my correspondents – for whom, it will be remembered, I had executed some business in Washoe – retracted their good opinion of my sagacity. There was no chance at this crisis to sell the various claims with which I had been commissioned at Carson City. Capitalists were short of funds. The money-market was laboring under a depression. The liver of the body politic was in a state of collapse. I went to the principal bankers, but failed to accomplish any thing. They even refused to lend money on unquestionable security.
In view of all the circumstances, I determined to visit Europe. If the moneyed men of the Old World could only be satisfied of the extent, variety, and magnificence of the investments to be made in the New, they would not hesitate to open negotiations with an agent direct from Washoe.
Frankfort-on-the-Main, January, 1861.
You will perceive from my address, most esteemed reader, that I am now established at one of the best points for pecuniary transactions on the Continent of Europe. I have seen many of the wealthy burghers of Frankfort, and am pleased to say that they manifest a very friendly disposition. As yet they do not quite understand the nature of the proposed securities, but I have great confidence in their sagacity. My negotiations with the Rothschilds have been of the most amicable character. They have gone so far as to express the opinion that Washoe must be a remarkable country; and yesterday, when I proposed to sell them fifty feet in the Gone Case, and forty in the Roaring Grizzly, for the sum of one hundred thousand florins, they smiled so politely, and withal looked so completely puzzled, that I considered it best not to force an immediate answer. You are aware, of course, that in important negotiations of this kind it is judicious to let the opposite party sleep a night or two over your proposition. That the Rothschilds are at present a little wary of any investment in Washoe is quite natural. The nomenclature is new to them. They have never before heard of Roaring Grizzly and Gone Case silver mines. But if that should prove to be their only objection, I have no doubt they will ultimately purchase to the extent of several millions. If they do, I shall be happy to negotiate further sales for a reasonable commission, to be paid strictly in advance. My publishers will, I am confident, forward any letter to my address.
