July, 1850.
Great labour and capital have been expended on the wharves of San Francisco; there is little space left between these, and ships ride at their sides, and discharge their cargoes with as much rapidity and comfort as if they were in dock. The central wharf is nearly a mile in length, and from the end of this the river steamboats take their departure every day at four o’clock. At these times the wharf is always densely crowded, and it has always seemed strange to me that this every-day occurrence attracts a crowd without fail, although directly the boats are off, every man runs back to the city as if he had forgotten something. Perhaps they come down on the chance of an explosion, in which they are occasionally gratified; whether or no, there must be some great attraction, for these curious people have to walk a mile to get there, and run a mile to get back! The “Senatorâ€� was our boat, and with one leg on board of her and the other buried in this observing crowd, I had to work briskly to get my provender on board—sacks of potatoes and flour, dogs, rifles, shovels, and pickaxes, were handed in with astonishing celerity, considering that I was not born a porter, and as the ship’s bell ceased tolling we cast off from the wharf and threading the shipping at full speed, were soon steaming up the Bay. The “Senatorâ€� is a fine boat, but no description of her is requisite, as much finer have been described by travellers who have sailed up the Mississippi River. She came round the Horn, and being the first boat to arrive in the Bay, she realised most incredible sums of money for her owners.
In two hours we arrived at Benicia, and the steamer ran alongside of an old hulk connected by a gang-way with the shore. Through the unusual degree of Yankee nautical smartness shown on this occasion, I lost some bags of potatoes, for the boat had scarcely touched the hulk, than we were driven out of it carrying all we could, and the word was given to “go a-head� again, the gang-board was hauled in, our potatoes were still on board, there was no time for expostulation, and away steamed the “Senator,� whilst we gazed dreamily at her receding hull, wrapt in admiration at the general smartness that evidently surrounded us. Benicia is a city in embryo, there is ample room for building, for in every direction extend undulating hills, covered with wild oats, but unobstructed by timber, of which none can be found within many miles. But the natural advantages of this spot have not been embraced by the public, for one reason, that the opposite town of Martinez is more fortunately planted among groves of trees, and for another, that no one requires a town in this particular part of the world. So Benicia is a failure just now; and instead of raising an imposing front, in evidence of man’s progress, it hides its diminished little head, among the few huts that stand in commemoration of its failure. I pitched my tent at a short distance from the beach, and as I afterwards discovered on reference to the “plan of Benicia,� on the exact spot that had been selected as the site of the “Public Botanical Gardens� of that flourishing city. Our party consisted of three men and three dogs. Besides Barnes, I had with me Mr. Alexander Thomas, the son of an old friend of my father, who had come out to join the staff of a colossal mercantile house, but the house had unfortunately exploded, staff and all, before his arrival in the country.
Barnes had been a desperate poacher, but for years past had distinguished himself equally as a keeper on my father’s estate. He was a good-natured, willing fellow, possessed of enormous physical strength, and could throw a stone with such force and precision, that he had been equally avoided by the keepers when he was a poacher, and by the poachers when he deserted their ranks, which he did as many others would, the moment the chance was offered him of making his bread honestly. My dogs consisted of two blood-hounds of the breed of Mr. Hammond of Norfolk—Prince and Birkham—the latter was of great beauty, but of very uncertain temper. A large half-bred Scotch slot-hound, called Cromer, completed the list—this latter had an unfailing nose and great intelligence, and was a perfect retriever in or out of water. An introductory note to an American gentleman who resided in one of the wooden houses that straggled over the hills, ensured me much civility, and enabled me to procure the mules I required for carrying the tent and baggage. During the interval that elapsed we had time to try the range of the rifles at a target, and get our “hands inâ€� ready for the mountains. A distressing incident occurred very shortly after arriving at Benicia. We had been practising at a target, and were returning to our camp with our rifles unloaded—the heat was intense—the dogs were with us, and I was suddenly struck by the conduct of Birkham the bloodhound. For some time he hung back in the rear as if afraid of us, and as I advanced to caress him he retreated. There being evidently something wrong, I conjectured that he was about to have an epileptic fit, with one of which he had been attacked at San Francisco, but suddenly he lifted up his massive head in the air, and delivered that deep prolonged howl that only a bloodhound has at command, and which is so distressing to hear; he then started at full speed away from us towards the hills, howling and leaping in the air as if in pursuit of something, and I had no doubt then that he was mad. Barnes and Thomas now loaded their rifles to be prepared for his return, I had expended my bullets in target firing. We had lost sight of him in the long wild oats which here grow to a great height, and scarcely expected him back, at least for some time; I was coupling Prince and Cromer together as a precaution, when suddenly Barnes exclaimed “Here he is, sir,â€� and I had just time to seize my rifle and swing it round, bringing the butt down on his head, as he passed within a foot of me.
I never witnessed any sight so dreadful as this dog when he turned now and deliberately attacked us, his whole appearance was changed, and the saliva frothed in his mouth. He might have done much mischief, now that he was in the humour for it, had he made a rapid dash at us; but as he stopped short to give a howl, Barnes shot him in the shoulder, and Thomas’s ball entered his head. It required two more shots to finish him, and painful as it was to have to kill the poor beast, even in self-defence, we could not but congratulate ourselves on having experienced a fortunate escape. Birkham was a dog of enormous power, and one grip of his jaw on a man’s throat would probably be quite sufficient to cause death; he had shown symptoms of uncertain temper immediately upon arriving in a warm latitude, and had twice bitten me in the arm during the passage out. Barnes was a famous man for savage dogs, being both severe yet temperate, but he always had his “doubts,� as he said, respecting Birkham, whose great crime consisted in showing his teeth to his master, a misdemeanour that required, and always received punishment. This consisted of one blow with a short dog-whip, and only one, but that was remembered, particularly by Birkham, who would lie down and place his great head on the ground, wrinkle his forehead, and sulk all day, refusing his dinner and taking no notice of anything that passed around him. Such a dog is never safe, and had these qualities been developed during the time he was in my possession in England, I never should have brought him away from that country.
Immense quantities of grasshoppers are to be found in the vicinity of Benicia at this season; as you walk through the wild oats and disturb them, they hop up to an immense height, in every direction, and like other insects they aim at your eyes, which they hit with unerring certainty and great force, and as they are as hard as little pebbles, they get the best of it altogether. The dogs are much puzzled with them, and as they get knocked about the head, they give short snaps in the air with their eyes shut.
I had great difficulty in procuring the mules I required for my journey, and these I could only hire, as a report of the discovery of a “Gold Lake� somewhere in the mining districts had taken deep root, and all the Benicia mules had been called into requisition. A fine dashing-looking Spaniard rode up to my tent one day in company with the gentleman who had interested himself to get me mules;[1] he was introduced as Don Raymond Carrillo, a native of California, and owner of a ranche, or farm, at Santa Rosa Valley, about forty miles in the interior.
Many of the native Californians whose ancestors emigrated from Mexico, have good Spanish blood in their veins, they are a robust and well-favoured race, and probably in this respect have much improved the original breed, which is all blood and bone. Don Raymond was a striking-looking fellow, well built and muscular, with regular features, half concealed by his long black hair and beard. The loose Spanish dress, the heavy iron spurs, the lasso hanging from the saddle, and the gaunt but fiery colt on which he was mounted, were all for work and little for show; probably the whole turn-out, including the horse, was not worth twenty dollars; but he was more picturesque in his mountain costume, than the best Andalusian that ever got himself up in gold lace and silver buttons for “bolero� or “bull-fight.� Don Raymond not only offered to send mules to convey ourselves and baggage to Santa Rosa, but most hospitably invited us to remain at his “ranche� until we could with his assistance purchase the animals we required. Whilst we were at Benicia the fourth of July, the anniversary of American Independence, came round; had Benicia been the city it was intended to be, what an opportunity would there not have been for the celebration of this day. Looking at the plan now before me, I can imagine the Botanical Gardens thronged with holiday people, whilst the mayor and corporation having reviewed the troops in front of the City Hall, are now inspecting the Infirmary for the Blind, which (in the plan) occupies a position to the extreme right; fireworks echo in the “plaza,� whilst the theatre opens its doors to an eager crowd, and the town pump is surrounded by little boys: but unfortunately Benicia is not far enough advanced to enable us to realise this scene. “The gardens� produce as yet but wild oats; the theatre is one unchanging scene of parched-up desolation; the town pump is not, and of the “plaza� no one knows the limits, for some of the oldest inhabitants, in happy ignorance of the fate of those who “remove their neighbour’s landmarks,� have pulled up the surveyor’s pegs, and basely used them for firewood; but they say that Benicia will do better by-and-by. The plan is named after the wife of General Vallejo, and signifies “Blessed,� and rather appropriately, as under present circumstances the proprietors are incorporated among those who are spoken of as being blessed if they expect nothing. Shortly afterwards, there arrived from Don Raymond eight mules, in charge of a young Californian “Vaccaro�[2] or cattle-driver; the mules were accompanied by an old white mare with a bell hung on to her neck. It is usual to accustom the mules to follow a leader of this kind, and without the old lady leads the way they become very intractable.
Don Raymond had stated frankly that he had no pack mules that had not been turned out for a time with the wild horses, and those he had sent us, though fine strong beasts, were undoubtedly very little tamer than fresh-caught zebras. The first mule having been brought forward with some difficulty, a cloth was tied round his eyes, and he remained perfectly still whilst the loading was performed with great dexterity and expedition by the “vaccaro� and one or two assistants. When all were packed, the blinds were taken from the mules’ eyes, and without any hesitation, and perfectly regardless of the white mare, who walked quietly towards home, away they scampered through the long grass, kicking and screaming; here goes a tin kettle, there a ham, now a bag of flour falls out and bursts, and the place is strewed with the relics of our commissariat stores. Two mules, followed by the “vaccaro,� have disappeared behind the hills, where the sun is disappearing also. Number three is motionless, for, not having succeeded in kicking the tent off his back, he has lain down with it in a small pond; whilst number four, having divested himself of every thing with which he was entrusted, including the pack-saddle, is making his supper off wild oats, under the full impression that he has performed his day’s work meritoriously and deserves repose. We employed the daylight that remained in collecting our traps; and as our “vaccaro� soon returned with the missing mules and assistance, after a few more refractory attempts we got off shortly after dark, and took the trail that led towards a village called Napa.
When about twelve miles from Benicia we halted to encamp for the night at a clump of trees, the first we had seen since landing. We had “carte blanche� to shoot a calf whenever our necessities required, from among the droves of tame cattle with which the plains on our route were well stocked. Our first object on halting was to avail ourselves of this permission, and it being too dark to kill with the rifle, our “vaccaro� brought in a calf with his lasso, as soon as the mules had been unpacked and turned off to feed. We had no occasion for the tent, the night air was so pure and mild, so we sat half buried in the tall soft grass, a bed of down from which nothing could have roused us but the grateful smell of the calf’s ribs as they roasted by our bright camp fire. As long as it lasted, our sleep was delicious, but it was interrupted most unseasonably, about the middle of the night, by the yells of a pack of “coyotes,� (a kind of jackal,) that had collected round the remains of the calf.