California illustrated

by J. M. Letts

During the evening we visited the “lions,” and brought up at a “fandango;” we did not, however, participate in the dance, but retired in good season, designing to set out the next morning for Gorgona. At an early hour the Philadelphia was besieged by dusky muleteers reiterating their “cargo Gorgona?” and before the sun had shown his disc above the horizon, we were under way. As we passed along Calle de Merced, I was very modestly recognized by an interesting Señorita, who, on the previous evening, had made to me a proposition of marriage; I, of course, accepted; but owing to numerous pressing engagements, I was not just then prepared to attend to it, and postponed it until the next evening. I did not tell her that I was to leave town early the next morning, nor did she suspect when I passed, that I was on my way, but looked as much as to say, “you won’t forget, will you?” As we gained the out-skirts of the city, we were hailed by half a dozen half-clad natives, who demanded a real for each horse and mule in our cavalcade. We exhibited the strongest symptoms of non-compliance, and our worthy collectors were soon convinced that we were not the party they were looking for; they, however, succeeded in extorting from many, and claimed to be acting under a recent act of government.

As we arrived at the national bridge, we met a party of Señoritas wending their way towards the city; they saluted us with “buenos dias, Caballieros,” and said by their looks that they would accompany us to the States, if we wished them to. Our extreme modesty prevented our making the proposition, and we parted with a mutual “adios.” We soon entered the forest, where the gigantic palms, embracing each other, protected us from the scorching rays of the sun. Our cavalcade was made up of mules and horses, some of them mounted, others packed. Our mutual friend, J. R. Foster, whom we had expected for days to consign to the ocean, was one of our party; being mounted on a gentle horse, in an easy saddle, and buoyed up with the fond hope of again reaching home, he astonished all by his persevering endurance. The balance of the party were in good health, and enjoyed the trip exceedingly.

I was much struck, as I had often been, with the sagacity of the mule. One of them was packed with Mr. Fairchild’s trunk, and my own; feeling some interest in my trunk, I naturally paid the most attention to that particular mule; and if he could have understood any language excepting the dead ones, I should have informed him that I thought him a very fine fellow. But just as I came to this very satisfactory conclusion, he was guilty of a freak that well-nigh destroyed my confidence in him. We had gained the summit of a hill, where the path stretched away for half a mile, almost level, when mule took it into his head to run, and, to my great amazement, he did run; I presumed he was making his escape, and cried out to the muleteer to stop him, but he replied “mula caro algun per comer,” and so it proved, for after running a quarter of a mile, he stopped and commenced eating. As soon as the cavalcade came up, he again started, and kept repeating until he had satisfied his hunger, when he walked along in the most orderly manner, and good humored too, for his ears were erect, and a smile appeared to beam from his countenance. At our first watering-place, after drinking, he dropped himself down, in the most mechanical manner, to rest. When we were ready to start, the “mula” of our muleteer would bring him to his hoofs, all right, and off.

At 1 P.M., we reached the “half-way tent,” and as some of the party were behind, we resolved to put up for the night. After supper we heard a cannon, announcing the arrival of the Oregon at Panama. I stretched myself out on my trunk in the open air, and was soon unconscious of my situation. My spirit was restless, and, as if not satisfied with one trip, spent the night in passing to and fro, over the route we had traveled during the day. Now my mule would change to a monkey, and I would ride him to the top of one of the highest trees; he would then become instantly transformed into an alligator, and there would be left no alternative but to precipitate ourselves into the mud below; in the passage down I was also transformed into an alligator, and immediately found myself covered with scales and swimming about in a pond, with an alligator on each side, holding on to my moustache, “showing me up” to my fellow alligators. The honors heaped upon me so excited and elated me, that I commenced rushing through the water, and soon found myself high and dry on land, looking around for my mule. I again mounted, and resolved to have no farther connexion with either monkey or alligator, but to ride directly through to Gorgona. Again my spirit lost its way, and I found myself on the bank of one of the most sluggish and dismal streams it is possible to imagine; the recollection of it now sends a chill to my heart. My mule stood appalled with terror, and cried for mercy, when I applied the spur. There was no alternative; it lay in the route, and we must cross it; I rode back a short distance that my mule might forget his terror; he again came up, reared and plunged, and we immediately sank below the surface; we continued to sink down, down, down, a damp chilly sensation crept over me, and I became stifled with horror; now my mule blows fire and smoke from his nostrils, and a demon of the most appalling aspect, covered with green and slime, and now another and another, all dancing along, laughing most hideously and biting their fingers in derision, as they contemplate their victim. We soon reached their abode, my blood is sent curdling to my heart, and with a feeling of horror and desperation I strike the spur into my mule, and with one terrific leap we pass through unscathed. The demons gave chase, but borne on the wings of fear we soon reached the other side of the earth. Here everything appears strange; my mule has but two legs, and wears boots and spurs; I have four legs, and a pair of enormous ears; I am led up to a block and mounted by his muleship, who, after lighting his cigar, applies his spurs; I determined to reach the other side by recrossing his “Satanic majestie’s” dominions, and after passing through the same horrifying scene, regained the starting point. I remounted my mule, which now seemed to have the usual number of legs, and after crossing sloughs and climbing mountains, we came to a precipice which he refused to descend. After repeated applications of the spur, he reared and plunged, and as he reached the brink of the precipice he settled back, and I passed over his head; in passing over I caught hold of his ears, which, pulling out, I was precipitated into the abyss below. The concussion awoke me, and I found that I had fallen from my trunk, and was grasping tightly the bottoms of the legs of my pantaloons.

In the morning we had the satisfaction of learning that our mules had strayed, and were detained until 10 o’clock. We reached Gorgona at 4 P.M. As we were entering the town, we met a funeral procession headed by a fife and drum; the corpse borne on a bier with face uncovered, (coffins are not used,) the mother of deceased standing in the door of her dwelling, uttering the most heart-rending exclamations. The whole was accompanied by the uncouth sound of a piece of old iron hanging in the church door, serving as a bell, and at this particular time undergoing a severe castigation. Towards evening, another corpse was borne along with the same accompaniments. The deceased was a small child; its head was decorated with flowers, its face uncovered, looking the very personation of sleeping innocence.

We put up at the French Hotel, and learning that the Empire City was to remain but one day longer at Chagres, we resolved to embark early the next morning. We contracted with a native to take our party of eleven for $22, and at an early hour were en route. We glided down the river very pleasantly, propelled by three oarsmen, with our worthy captain at the helm. After making two or three miles, we were brought to a dead stand on a sand-bar; our boatmen backed up, we mounted and were carried to the shore. They succeeded in getting the bungo over the shoal and we reëmbarked half a mile below.

It will be imagined that we had but little spare room in our craft after putting in eleven trunks, as many traveling-bags, as many pairs of blankets, and fifteen human beings. This was the case; and some of our passengers having tasted the luxury of a California life, looked upon our voyage down the river as a hardship unendurable, and censured the fellow-passenger who had made the contract. The latter worthy, feeling it an unjust imputation, gave the dissatisfied gentlemen above mentioned the privilege of taking passage in any craft that might come along. This led to personalities, and the feelings of our party were immediately in a state of ferment; brandy did not serve to allay the excitement, but seemed to add fuel, and we were on the eve of spontaneous combustion.

We arrived at a rancho, where it was proposed to dine. Here commenced a dissertation on “poco tiempo,” (little time). These two words constitute almost the entire vocabulary of a native. Ask him how far it is to a rancho, “poco tiempo,” how far it is to water, “poco tiempo.” If they are employed by you, and you allow them to stop under any pretext, they never start, but are always on the point of so doing; it is “poco tiempo.”

We had contracted to be taken through by daylight, and we had no time to spare; but after dinner the crew and “el capitan” must have their “siesta.” We would urge them to start, but they were fatigued, they would start “poco tiempo.” They would “caro agua,” or “caro cognac,” and after a detention of two hours we got into the bungo and were in the act of shoving off, when they consented to come on board, and we were again under way.

I omitted our bill of fare at the above rancho. Our worthy hostess was on the shady side of forty, and surrounded by half a dozen “muchachos,” all as naked at they came into the world. Our hostess had paid a little more attention to her toilet, and seemed dressed with an express view to comfort, her entire wardrobe consisting of a pair slippers and a Panama hat. Our first dish was a stew of lizards and carna; this was served out in gourd-shells, which were held to our mouths, and the pieces of meat coaxed in with our fingers. Our second and last dish was boiled eggs. Our cook should have felt complimented, for we ate and drank everything in the house, and wanted more. She looked on with astonishment at the sudden disappearance of her stew and eggs, and said to one of our boatmen, “los Americanos tiena mucho hambre;” and so we were hungry, or we could not have relished lizards even when stewed, for I must confess my predilections were never very strongly in favor of that particular species of reptile. In passing along down, we came in contact with the carcase of a large alligator; it had been pierced by several balls, and was now borne along by the current, destined, perhaps, to take up its final rest in the bosom of the Atlantic. In the afterpart of the day we were overtaken by Mr. Miller of Gorgona, who was expressing to the steamer at Chagres the arrival of the Oregon at Panama. Night overtook us in a most discordant mood, and at a great distance from our destination.