About that time or soon after a company of 40 miners organized to cut a canal across the base of the opposite bar for the purpose of turning the whole channel of the stream and thus laying bare and dry about 100 rods of the original bed. One of the company, a last year’s miner from Oregon, gave it as his opinion that in a deep hole just at the head of the bar, cut out of the bed rock by the water dropping over a fall of several feet, was a large amount of gold. What gave assurance of the truth of the opinion was that at the head of the falls where the water was shallow but swift, scales of gold could be seen in large quantities in the seams and crevises of the bed rock, but the current was so swift that it was impossible to secure them when dug out with a knife.
The proposed canal was about forty rods long. They needed a foot bridge and hired a man to chop down the pine Norton had assailed for eight dollars; he worked all day and gave up the job, but was induced to continue by liberal offers of pay; he worked steadily for a week and with the combined assistance of the company, on the Sunday following succeeded in felling it. As incredible as this may seem it is literally true; the character of the timber and the man having nothing but a single axe for the work make the unreasonableness of the story materially modified even to a skeptic. But what detracts from the romance of the undertaking is the fact that the result was almost a complete failure; they spent the entire season and turned the entire stream very completely; pumped out the deep hole and secured two or three bushel of fish; not an ounce of gold in it. But just at the foot of the hole they found a large mass of gold, the balance of the bed not showing any pay dirt. They were a sorry looking company and had the sympathy of the entire settlement. The water coming from the snow capped mountains, in sight and estimated to be 30 miles away, was very cold, almost ice water, too cold for bathing and well stocked with fish similar to our trout but without speckles.
Sunday was recognized as a day of rest from digging but used as washing day. From 10 A.M. to 3 P.M. was a period of rest in consequence of the extreme heat; the reflection of heat from the high barren rocky mountains was simply terrific; the thermometer ranged daily at 118. A piece of iron left in the sun could not be held in the hand; about 10 the north-west trade wind would start up so that under cover or shade one would be very comfortable while quiet; the nights were deliciously cool requiring a pair of woolen blankets for comfort.[112]
We packed our valuables onto the old gray horse and bidding goodbye to the diggings started for the top of the mountain, which we reached just after dark. We arrived at the Sutter sawmill, now called Coloma, the second day after when we concluded to stop and “divide” up as some of the number wanted to go back into the dry diggings. We reached Sacramento about 9 P.M. When we left there in June the town had no buildings or streets and only a few tents. Now we found in October solid blocks of buildings of two and three stories, more like Broadway, New York, than when we saw it last with streets open and built up in all directions, and a population of 10,000. Could it be possible? Yes! it must be true; like Rip Van Winkle we had been spending our lives as it were in a sleep, and had just been aroused to find the world so completely changed as to make us strangers in it. Such were my feelings that night, and it was days before I could locate old land marks, so as to realize I had ever been in the place before.
It was my intention to open an office and practice my profession at Sacramento, but on looking over the ground I was simply amazed to see the number of doctors’ shingles hanging out. I actually think one would have been safe to call every other man he met doctor; he would get an affirmative answer and in truth I was ashamed to let myself be known as a physician. As a consequence I decided to go to San Francisco and look about.
I have overlooked a matter in its proper order. As previously stated our company organized with a capital of $4,000; when we reached the diggings our funds except the outfit, tools, camp equipage, etc., were exhausted and we owed $1200, of which $100 is still unpaid. We gave a note for that amount in Sacramento, but on our return to the city we were unable to find the owner after making a diligent search. I took passage for San Francisco on the first down trip of the first steamboat[113] that was put on the Sacramento river. It was a flat bottom scow with two small engines, one to each wheel with no deck cabins or other conveniences. At the Bay we were put aboard a sloop for the balance of the trip, the steamer not being safe.
Arriving at San Francisco I was again astonished at the marvelous change since leaving it four months before. A veritable city of 15,000 inhabitants had sprung up with towering blocks of buildings, many of which would vie with those of that time in Broadway, New York; where there was water were now docks covered with buildings and still being pushed out farther into the bay; a teeming busy throng filled the streets bordering on the water. I found the same state of affairs as to the number of doctors’ signs. I was negotiating to take an interest in a drug store as a practitioner when it was announced through the papers that the stock of provisions was rapidly diminishing and none were known to be on the way. Flour jumped from $50 to $120 per barrel at once and every thing else in the eatable line went up in the same proportion.
The condition was any thing but a pleasant one, I looked the matter over very carefully and finally decided that I could go home and return the next spring for less money than it would cost me to stay there. One of our company, Captain Norton, was intending to take the next steamer for Panama and home and I decided to accompany him. While preparing for the journey we came across the Vermont party whom I have mentioned as abandoning the hole which I afterwards held with an old shovel; they were also returning on the same vessel.