The crowd that gathered at the sandhills consisted of two or three hundred men who had lately been hunted from one end of San Francisco to the
The “Challenge�
other, and had prudently kept themselves stowed away in order to escape the righteous wrath of the Vigilance Committee. One can scarcely conceive anything more grimly grotesque than the spectacle of these inexperienced reformers, in their red flannel shirts and black slouched hats with pistols and bowie-knives stuck in their leather belts, and trousers tucked into the tops of their cowhide boots, the odor of the gin palace and dance-hall clinging to their unwashed skins and clothing, as they wended their way to Pacific Wharf, where the Challenge lay moored, and demanded that Captain Waterman and his officers be delivered over to them for purposes of justice.
As might have been expected, these gentlemen had vanished and no one but a few members of the Committee knew where they were. So finding that Captain John Land had been placed in command of the ship, the mob seized this venerable seaman, and for more than an hour wrangled among themselves as to whether they should shoot, drown, or hang him in place of Captain Waterman. They, however, concluded to hold him as a hostage, and walked their white-haired prisoner up to the office of Alsop & Co., the agents of the Challenge. By this time, the crowd had been considerably augmented and numbered about two thousand men, who filled the air of California Street with yells, curses, lewd jests, and ribald songs. They again demanded from the agents that their intended victims be given up, and six of the ringleaders forced their way with crowbars and axes into the house of Alsop & Co. At this point the bell of the Monumental Fire Engine House began to toll—the well-known signal that called the Vigilance Committee to arms—and long before the Marshal had finished reading the Riot Act, the mob had dispersed with alacrity.
Captain Waterman was not the man to submit quietly to such attacks upon his character and conduct, and he at once offered to meet any charge that might be brought against him before a proper legal tribunal. When no one appeared, he demanded that a full investigation be made into the facts of the voyage of the Challenge. It then appeared, from the testimony of a portion of the crew, that a large number of the men who had shipped in New York as able seamen were grossly incompetent and desperately mutinous; that the food had been of the best, in fact, the same quality of beef, pork, and flour that had been used in the cabin had also been served to the crew without stint, and that no more punishment had been inflicted by the officers than was necessary to maintain proper discipline for the safety of the ship and her cargo.
It also appeared that from the time the ship sailed from New York until the time of her arrival at San Francisco, Captain Waterman had never been out of his clothes except to change them, and had never slept in his berth, but had taken such rest as he could find upon the transom in his chart-room near the companionway. He was commended for his skill and courage in bringing his vessel safely into San Francisco without the loss of a spar, sail, or piece of rigging. It is therefore humiliating to record that neither the owners of the Challenge nor their underwriters, for both of whom Captain Waterman had saved thousands of dollars, ever had the courtesy to make the slightest acknowledgment of his services, although they were well aware of their obligation in this matter. It is, however, some consolation to know that he asked and needed nothing at their hands.
As we already have seen, Captain Waterman had taken the Pacific Mail steamship Northerner from New York to San Francisco in 1850, and fully intended at that time to retire from the sea. He was then forty-two years old, and had passed thirty-two years upon the ocean; he possessed ample means, with a portion of which he bought four leagues of land in Solano County, California, and it was only at the earnest solicitation of N. L. & G. Griswold, the owners of the Challenge, that he consented to take her from New York to San Francisco in this year. He was now free to attend to his own affairs. Together with Captain A. A. Richie, he founded the town of Fairfield, California. In 1852, he was appointed Port Warden and Inspector of Hulls at the port of San Francisco, a position he held for twenty-eight years. He then retired to his farm, where he died in 1884, at the age of seventy-six. Probably no man in California was more widely known or more highly respected.
One of the best ocean races of 1851 was that between the Raven, Captain Henry; the Typhoon, Captain Salter, and the Sea Witch, Captain Frazer. These clippers sailed for San Francisco nearly together: the Sea Witch passed out by Sandy Hook on August 1st, followed by the Typhoon on August 4th, while the Raven passed Boston Light on August 6th. All had able commanders, who carried Maury’s wind and current charts to assist them. In this month of light and baffling breezes a quick run to the equator was hardly to be expected, but these clippers threaded their way across the calm belt of Cancer, ran down the northeast trades, and drifted through the doldrums, with surprising speed. The Sea Witch still kept her lead at the equator, crossing on August 30th, closely followed by the Raven and the Typhoon, which crossed together on the 31st, so that the Raven had gained four and the Typhoon two days on their swift competitor. They all weathered Cape St. Roque and stood away to the southward for a splendid dash of over three thousand miles through the southeast trades and the strong westerly winds further south, all crossing the parallel of 50° S. in the same longitude, 64° W. The Raven had gained another day on the Sea Witch and these two clippers were now side by side, with the Typhoon only two days astern.
Here began one of the keenest races ever sailed upon the ocean. They all stood to the southward with studdingsail booms and skysail yards sent down from aloft, with extra lashings on the boats, spare spars, and skylights, while all hands hardened their hearts for a thrash to windward round Cape Horn. On this desolate ocean the clippers raced from horizon to horizon in heavy westerly gales and a long, fierce, sweeping head sea. For fourteen exciting days and nights, with single-reefed, double-reefed, close-reefed topsails, reefs in and reefs out, their keen, watchful captains made use of every lull and slant to drive their ships to the westward of Cape Horn, across the great, broad-backed, white-crested seas. The Sea Witch and Raven were having it out tack for tack, sometimes one and then the other gaining an advantage, both carrying sail to the utmost limit of prudence, lifting their long, sharp bows to the wild, surging seas, the cold spray flying across their decks and blue water swirling along their lee waists, each handled with consummate skill, and not a spar carried away or rope parted. The Typhoon in hot pursuit, was pressing the two leaders and slowly closing upon them, for her greater length and power helped her here. Finally the Sea Witch and Raven emerged from this desperate contest side by side, as they had entered it, both crossing latitude 50° S. in the Pacific in fourteen days from the same parallel in the Atlantic. The Typhoon had now gained another day, and was within twenty-four hours’ sail of each.