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Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone

Volume One – Chapter Twenty Five.
A Bull and Bear Fight

One Sunday afternoon, seeking for amusement, I walked into Sonora; and, following a crowd, I reached the “Plaza de Toros.”

The proprietor of this place had gone to a great expense, to get up a grand entertainment for that day.

A large grizzly bear had been caught alive in the mountains – about twenty miles from the town – and, at great trouble and expense, had been transported in a strong cage to Sonora – to afford amusement to the citizens of that lively little city.

To bring the bear from his native wilds, had required the labour of a large party of men; and several days had been spent in the transport. A road had to be made most part the way – of sufficient width to permit the passage of the waggon that carried the cage. Bridges had also to be thrown over streams and deep ravines; and the bear was not securely landed in Sonora, until after he had cost the proprietor of the Bull-ring about eleven hundred dollars.

Several savage bulls had also been provided for the day’s sport; and the inhabitants of the town, and its vicinity, were promised one of the most splendid, as well as exciting, entertainments ever got up in California.

I had before that time witnessed two or three Spanish bull fights; and had formed a resolution never to see another. But the temptation in this case – being a bull and bear fight – was too strong to be resisted: and I paid two dollars – like many others as foolish as myself – for a ticket; and, armed with this, entered the amphitheatre.

The Plaza de Toros was a circular enclosure with benches – on which about two thousand people could be comfortably seated; but, before the performance had commenced, the place contained three thousand or more. The first performance was an ordinary Spanish bull fight; and excited but little interest. The bull was soon killed, and dragged out of the arena.

After a short interval, a second bull made his bow to the spectators. The instant this one showed himself, everybody predicted an exciting scene: for the animal leaped into the arena, with a wild bellowing, and an expression of rage, that portended a very different spectacle, from that exhibited by his predecessor.

The toreros appeared surprised – some of them even confounded – by the fierce, sudden and energetic spring with which the bull charged into their midst.

A matador standing alone, in the arena, is in but little danger – even when pursued by the fiercest bull. It is when three or four of the toreros are in the ring together – getting in one another’s way while turning to avoid his horns – that the bull has the advantage over his adversaries. At such times, the bull-fighter runs a great risk of getting badly gored, or even killed outright.

The latter misfortune happened to one of the men, on the occasion in question. The second bull that had promised such a savage exhibition of his fierce strength, did not disappoint the spectators. In the third or fourth charge which he made among the matadors, he succeeded in impaling one of their number upon his horns. The body of the unfortunate man was lifted clear up from the ground, and carried twice round the ring – before the bull thus bearing him could be despatched!

Of course, the man was dead; and had been so, long before being taken off the animal’s horns. His heart’s blood could be seen running in a thick stream down the shaggy forehead of the bull, and dripping from his nose, as he carried the inanimate form around the arena!

The dead bodies of both man and animal were taken out of the place together, and on the same cart, the only interval allowed to elapse between the sports, was the short half hour necessary to making preparation for the grand spectacle of the day – the fight between the bear and a bull!

The cage containing the grizzly was drawn into the ring by a span of horses – which were at once taken away; and then a small, and not a very formidable “toro,” was led into the arena by several men, who guided him with their long lazos.

The appearance of this bull was disappointing to the spectators, who fancied that a much larger animal should have been chosen to encounter the savage monster of the mountains. The explanation was conjectured by all. The bear was worth over one thousand dollars, while the bull cost only twenty-five; and from this disparity in price, it was evident that the owner of both wished to give grizzly the advantage in the fight. This was made certain, by the proprietor himself coming forward with the unexpected proposal: that before commencing the fight, the bull should have the tips shaved off from his horns! “This,” he said, “would hinder the bear from receiving any serious injury; and it could be exhibited in a fight on some other Sunday!”

But the spectators wished to see a good fight on this Sunday, and a fair fight as well. They did not wish to see the poor bull deprived of his natural means of protecting himself; and then torn to pieces by the claws of the favoured bear.

The master of the amphitheatre was about to carry out his economic project – when a scene ensued that beggars all description. It ended in the bull being allowed to retain the tips of his horns.

The action now commenced. The hind leg of the bear was pulled out of the cage door – which was partially opened for the purpose. The leg was made fast, by a strong log chain, to a stake that had been driven deep into the ground near the centre of the arena. The door was then thrown wide open; but, notwithstanding this apparent chance of recovering his liberty, the bear refused to take advantage of it.

A rope was then made fast to the back of the cage, and attached to a horse standing outside the enclosure. By this means, the cage was dragged away from the bear, instead of the bear being abstracted from the cage – leaving the animal uncovered in the centre of the arena. The lazos were next loosed off from the horns of the bull; and the two combatants were left in possession of the ground – at liberty to exercise their savage prowess upon each other.

The bull on regaining his feet, rolled its eyes about, in search of something on which he might take revenge, for the unseemly way in which he had just been treated. The only thing he could conveniently encounter was the bear; and, lowering his muzzle to the ground, he charged straight towards the latter.

Bruin met the attack by clewing himself into a round ball. In this peculiar shape he was tossed about by the bull, without sustaining any great injury. After he had been rolled over two or three times, he suddenly unclewed himself; and, springing upward, seized the bull’s head between his fore paws.

So firm was his grip, that the poor bull could neither advance nor retreat – nor even make movement in any direction. It appeared as if it could only stand still, and bellow.

To make the grizzly let go his hold – in order that the fight might proceed with more spirit – a man, in the employ of the proprietor, entered the arena with a bucket of water – which he threw over the bear. The latter instantly relinquished his hold of the bull; and, rapidly extending one of his huge paws, seized hold of the servant who had douched him; and, with a jerk, drew the man under his body.

Having accomplished this feat, he was proceeding to tear the unfortunate man to pieces; and had squatted over him with this intention, when a perfect volley of revolvers – in all about two hundred shots – were fired at his body. The bear was killed instantly, though strange to say, his death was caused by a single bullet, out of all the shots that had hit him; and there were more than a hundred that had been truly aimed! The only wound, that could have proved fatal to such a monster, was a shot that had entered one of his ears, and penetrated to the brain. Many balls were afterwards found flattened against the animal’s skull, and his skin was literally peppered; but, though the man, at the time the shots were fired, was clutching the bear’s throat with both hands, he was not touched by a single bullet!

There were two circumstances connected with this affair, that, happening in any other land but California, would have been very extraordinary. One was, the simultaneous discharge of so many shots, at the moment when the bear was seen to have the man in his power. It might have been supposed, that the spectators had been anticipating such an event, and were ready with their revolvers: for the bear’s seizing the man, seemed a preconcerted signal for them to fire.

Another remarkable circumstance was, that, although the discharge of so many pistols was sudden and unexpected, and proceeded from every point round the circle of the amphitheatre – where thousands of people were crowded together – no one but the bear was injured by the shots!

It was a striking illustration of some peculiarities in the character of the energetic self-relying men of the world, that then peopled California.

In the “Plaza de Toros” – witnesses of the scenes I have attempted to describe – were many young girls belonging to the place, as well as others, from Mexico, Chili, and Peru. During the continuance of that series of exciting scenes – which included the killing of one person by empalement upon a bull, the mutilation of another by the claws of a grizzly bear, and the destruction of the bear itself, by a volley of revolvers – these interesting damsels never allowed the lights of their cigarritos to become extinguished; but calmly smoked on, as tranquil and unconcerned, as if they had been simply assisting at the ceremony of a “fandango!”

Volume One – Chapter Twenty Six.
Stormy’s Autobiography

In my rambles about Sonora and its vicinity, when seeking amusement, on what is called the “first day of the week.” I was generally accompanied by Stormy Jack.

During my early acquaintance with the old sailor, I was too young to have formed a correct opinion of his character; and my respect for him, was based entirely upon instinct.

Now that I was older, and possessed of a more mature judgment, that respect – instead of having diminished – had increased to such a degree, as to deserve the name of admiration. I could not help admiring his many good qualities. He loved truth; and spoke it whenever he said anything. He was frank, honest, sociable, and generous. He had an abhorrence of all that was mean – combined with a genuine love for fair play and even-handed justice of every kind. He was in the habit of expressing his opinions so frankly, that, on the slightest acquaintance, every honest man became his friend, and every dishonest one his enemy.

Stormy was, in truth, one of nature’s noblemen – such a one as is seldom met with, and never forgotten. He was instinctively a gentleman; and the many long years in which he had been associated, with those who are thought to be lowest in the scale of civilisation, had not overcome his natural inclination.

Stormy was strong on all points but one; and that was, in the resisting his appetite for strong drink. To this he too often yielded.

“Do not think, Rowley,” said he one evening, when I chanced to allude to this subject, “that I can’t keep from thinking, if I tried. I never drank when I was young: for I had some hope and ambition then; and I could see the silliness of giving way to such a habit. It is only since I have become old Stormy Jack, and too old for my bad habits to be of any consequence to myself, or any one else. No, Rowley, it don’t signify much now, how often I get drunk – either in my mind or legs. When I was young, like you, I had no one to teach me manners – except the world; and it did larn me some. Wherever I went, every one appeared to think it was their business to teach me manners; and the way they went about it, was not always very gentle. I’ve seen hard times in this world, Rowley, my lad.”

“I have no doubt of it, Stormy,” said I, “for you have that appearance. You look as though, man, fate, and time had all used you roughly.”

“And so they have. I’ve nobody to thank for anything, unless it is the Almighty, for having given me health and strength to out-live what I have passed through; and I’m not sartin that I should be thankful for that. If you like, Rowley, I’ll tell you something of my history; and it’ll give you an idea of the way the world has used me.”

“I should like it much.”

“Here goes then! The first thing I can remember, is a father who used to get drunk in the legs; and the second, a mother who would as often get drunk in the head.

“As my father, when intoxicated, could not stand on his feet, nor move from the place in which he chanced to be, my mother would take advantage of his helplessness; and used to teach him manners, in a way that always kept his countenance covered with scratches, cuts, and bruises. I may add, that she served myself in a very similar manner. If ever either my father, or I, were seen in the streets without a fresh wound on our faces, the neighbours knew that there was no money in the house, or anything that would be received at a pawn shop for so much as sixpence. The soundness of our skins would prove the scarcity of cash in my father’s establishment; or as they say here in Californy, that we were ‘hard up.’

“About the time I was thirteen years of age, my parents discovered that they could no longer maintain themselves, much less me; and they sought, and found, a home in the work-house – whither I was taken along with them.

“Both died in the work-house the year after entering it; and I was apprenticed, or I might say hired out, to a baker.

“In this situation, I had a world of work to do. I had to sit up all night, helping the journeymen to make the bread; and then I had to go out for two or three hours every morning – with a heavy basket of loaves on my head, to be delivered to the customers living here and there. In addition to this hard work, I was nearly starved. The only time I could get enough to eat, was when I was out on my rounds with the bread, when I could steal a little scrap from each loaf – in such a way that the morsel wouldn’t be missed.

“I’ve not yet told you, that my native place is London; and if you know anything of that city, you may have some idea of the life I lived when a child, with two miserable, poor, and drunken parents.

“Well, I staid with the baker above two years; and though I was nearly killed with hard work and want of food – as well as sleep – that, perhaps, wasn’t the most unhappy part of my life. There was a worse time in store for me.

“The baker and his wife, who owned and ill-treated me, had a little girl in the house – a slavey they had taken from the same work-house from which they had fetched me. This girl wasn’t treated any better than I was; and the only happy moments either of us ever had, were when we could be together, and freely express our opinions of our master and mistress – both of whom behaved equally bad to us – if anything, the woman the worst. The girl and I used to encourage each other with hopes of better times.

“I had seen many little girls in the streets, dressed very fine, and looking clean, well-fed, and happy; and some of them I thought very beautiful. But none of them appeared so beautiful, as the one who was being worked and starved to death in the same house with myself – though her dress was nothing but a lot of dirty rags.

“By the time I had got to be sixteen years of age, I was too much of a man to stand the ill-usage of the baker and his wife any longer; and I determined to run away.

“I did not like to leave behind me my companion in misery; but as I thought, that, in a few weeks I should make a little fortune, and be able to find her a better home, we became reconciled to the idea of parting with one another.

“One morning I bade her good-bye; and started off with the basket of bread on my head to go my rounds.

“When I had nearly completed the delivery, and had left with different customers all but the last loaf, I set down the basket, took this loaf under my arm, and was free.

“I went straight to the docks to look out for something; and, before the day was over, I found a situation aboard a schooner in the coal trade – that was about to sail for Newcastle.

“The skipper of this vessel was also its owner; and himself and his family used it as their regular home.

“I was determined to please this man – not only by doing my duty, but as much more as I could. I succeeded in gaining his good will.

“We went to Newcastle, took in a cargo; and by the time we reached London again, the skipper would not have been willing to part with me, had I desired to leave him. When we got back to London, he gave me liberty to come ashore; and made me a present of half-a-crown, to spend as I liked.

“It was the largest sum of money I had ever owned; and, with it in my possession, I thought that the time when I might take my little fellow servant away from the hard life she was leading, could not be far away. I determined not to spend one penny of the money upon myself; but to go ashore at once, and make a bold push towards getting the girl away from the place where she was staying.

“I told the skipper all about her – what sort of a home I had left her in – and the cruelties she was still likely to be enduring.

“He talked to his wife; and after they had asked me a good many questions: as to whether the girl was well-behaved, and used no bad language – they told me that I might bring her aboard the vessel then lying in the river; and that she might look after the three children, and do anything else to make herself useful.

“I started off on my errand, in better spirits than I had ever been in before. I was afraid to go near the baker’s house, for fear I should be seen from the shop and might have trouble in getting away again: for I had been regularly bound as his apprentice. So I watched the public-house – where I knew the girl would be sure to come for the supper beer in the evening.

“After I had been looking out for about half an hour, she came, looking more beautiful, more ragged and dirty, than when I had last seen her, four weeks before.

“‘Come on, Ann!’ I cried. (Ann was her name.) ‘Come on! Fling away your jug, and follow me!’

“I ran up to her, while I was speaking.

“She dropped the jug – not because I had told her to do so – but from the excitement of her surprise at seeing me. It fell out of her hands on the pavement; and was broken to pieces.

“‘Follow me,’ said I, ‘I’ve another home for you.’

“She gave one glance at the broken jug; and probably thought of her mistress, and the beating she would be sure to get, should she go home without the jug and the supper beer. That thought decided her. She then took my hand; and we started off towards the river.

“I am going to cut my story short,” said Stormy, after a pause – during which he seemed to suffer from some painful reflection. “For nine years I worked for that girl. Part of the time I was getting good wages – as the second mate of a large ship, running to Charleston, in the United States; and all of my money was spent in keeping Ann in a good home, and in having her taught to read and write, and behave herself like a lady.

“To deny myself every comfort, for the sake of saving money for her, was my greatest pleasure. I have often crossed the Atlantic without proper clothing; so that Ann might be placed beyond the danger of want, while I was gone.

“During these nine years, I drank no grog, nor liquor of any kind. I would not even take a glass at the expense of any of my messmates, because I would be expected to stand a glass in return; and there was more pleasure in saving the money for Ann, than in spending it on what could only injure me. I have often walked the cold wet decks with my feet freezing for the want of a pair of socks and good boots – because these things would cost money: and all that I could make I wished to spend only for the benefit of Ann, who was always in my thoughts – the idol of my soul.

“While making my voyages across the Atlantic, I got some of my companions to learn me to read and write a little. I worked very hard at this, when I could find time. There were two reasons for my wishing to be able to write: the first, because I had some desire to learn on my own account; and the other reason was, that when I should marry Ann, I did not wish her to have a husband who could not write his own name.

“When I had got to be about twenty-three years of age, I began to think of getting married. I was earning good wages; and had saved enough money to furnish a little house for Ann. Just about that time, however, I noticed she had begun to treat me with a little coldness. I had been so very saving of my money, that I always went rather shabbily dressed; and I at first thought that she might be a little ashamed of my appearance. I knew that this would not be right on her part; but I also knew that women have got vanity; and that they cannot help a feeling of that kind. I could not think that it was possible for Ann not to love me – after the many sacrifices I had made for her – for I deserved her love, and had fairly earned it. I thought that if there was a man worthy of being loved by her, and having her for his wife, I was that man, for I had done all that I was able to gain her good will; and no one can do more. I was under the belief, too, that she loved me: for she had many a time told me so. You may imagine, then, how I was taken aback, when one time that I returned from a voyage to give her all the money I had earned, I found that she treated me very coldly; and that every day she grew colder and colder, and seemed as if she only wanted to get clear of my company.”

At this interesting crisis of his story, Stormy was interrupted by the entrance of two of our mining neighbours, who came into our tent to have a quiet game of “uker” along with us.