Life of a Pioneer: Being the Autobiography of James S. Brown

by James S. Brown

The marshal came into the house and informed me of the plot and how he came to hear of it. He said, "Now, if you have any money or valuable papers, you had better send for some trusty friend to come and take care of them. I will send for anyone that you will name." I told him I did not know of a better friend than the one who had come to my relief, and if he, the marshal, would take care of the valuables, I would be much obliged. He said he would take charge of them and have them deposited for safekeeping till I wanted them. I then handed out my memorandum book, with the names of the men who sent the money, the amounts, and the names of those to whom it was sent. Then, my eyes being propped open, I poured the money on to a handkerchief they had spread over my lap. As the money was mostly in gold ten and twenty dollar pieces, in fifty dollar packages, it was easily and quickly counted, and found to tally with the memoranda. Then the drafts and checks were counted, and all put together in the belt—some fifteen hundred dollars—and handed over to the marshal, with Dr. Jones as witness.

When the gold was being counted out, some of the would-be robbers appeared at the window, and doubtless saw that the marshal was taking charge of the valuables, by which action their plot fell through, and I was not troubled any more. But the experience was enough for the Spanish nurse, for the robbers undoubtedly were Spaniards or "greasers," and if they could take revenge on him they would do it. Some of the marshal's posse stayed till they felt satisfied the danger was all over, then they, with the nurse, left, and next day sent to me an old badly pox-marked sailor for an attendant. He came in with a bottle of whisky that he said was a hundred years old.

The first thing the new nurse said was, "Hello, old chum! What are you doing there? Come, and have a drink with me." The next breath he said, "No, no, for I know it would not do for you. I will drink for you. So here goes." He then took a liberal draught, and wanted to know what he could do for my comfort. On being told there was nothing I wanted just then, he said, "Let me sing you a song," and he sang a very comical ditty. Then he said, "I'll dance a jig for you," and at it he went. In the performance he kicked the dry manure pretty nearly all over me and my bed, for he was "three sheets in the wind and the fourth fluttering" (three-fourths drunk, or more.)

When he saw what he had done, he dropped on his knees and begged pardon, making the most humble apology. Said he, "Never mind, old chum, just lay over to starboard, and I will make it all right." He brushed and brushed away, then said, "Now to larboard, and I will fix you all right." So he pounded away, talking all the time in his sailor phrases. Finally he partially sobered up, and it would have been hard to find a more thoughtful and attentive nurse. From that time on he stayed with me, told many interesting sea stories, and sang love songs.

On February 10th my cousin, John M. Brown, who was passing through that part of the country, came to the door and called. "Is that you, James?" At the same time he threw a ten dollar gold piece on the bed; but not having had the smallpox, he dare not come in. We had not met before in eight years. At that date I was suffering intensely, if not the worst that I had done, for I was down so weak that I could not help myself at all.

On the 11th, W. G. Sherwood, of San Bernardino, came in, saying that the Saints had raised some money for me, and had sent him to take care of me until I was able to come out to them. Brothers D. Clark and J. Bailey had told President Seeley of my condition. I felt indeed very thankful for the favors shown me.

On the 14th the smallpox had nearly died away, and by the 19th I was considered out of all danger, with prudence. On the 20th, the doctor and marshal came and ordered all of my bedding and a good suit of clothes that I had on when taken down, boots, hat, and all, piled in the yard, and there burned. They said my expenses had been five dollars per day for the house, because of the disease and being close to where the landlord and his family lived. The nurses also had to be paid the same amount per day. I told them I had been out on a long mission at my own expense, and now had so little money that it would cost me every dollar that I had to meet the loss of my clothes and bedding, so it was impossible for me to settle such a bill, one hundred and forty dollars. I had paid for every article I had used except a little medicine the doctor had furnished.

The marshal and doctor said they understood that I had come into the country as a soldier in the time of the Mexican war. I told them that I had helped to build the fort that overlooked the town, and that I went to San Bernardino canyon and helped get down the first liberty pole that ever bore the Stars and Stripes on this western coast. At this they asked a number of questions, as if to satisfy themselves whether or not I had told them the truth, and when they became convinced the marshal said: "Mr. Brown, do not make any trouble, for we will see that you do not have to pay that bill; you are worthy of all the care that you have had, and more too. Los Angeles will pay that, and you are free to go on your way. We are pleased to have made your acquaintance, and that you have recovered so well; for your case has been a very remarkable one, to have had the disease so badly and after being exposed as you were, to have recovered so soon, with scarce a mark left on you. It has been a most wonderful case, and we congratulate you on your safe recovery, and wish you success on your journey to Salt Lake." Of course I could not feel otherwise than very grateful to those two gentlemen for their kind attention and largeness of soul. Then we bade each other good-bye and I am not conscious that we have ever met since that day.

Brother Sherwood and I stored my trunk, put our other effects on his poor old stallion, went down town and got my money and some provisions and a bottle of old whisky, and were amused to see so many people run from the smallpox, while others stood afar off and gazed. Finally, on February 21st, we set out for San Bernardino, eighty miles, on foot, one leading and the other punching the old horse, which was so weak that he stumbled wherever the road was a little rough. We only got ten miles that day.

On the 22nd we proceeded on our journey another ten miles, when it was impossible for me to go any further. I was thoroughly exhausted, and had to lie down or drop. We were ten miles from water, and so thirsty that it seemed that I must die on that arid plain. Brother Sherwood, however, proved equal to the emergency. He got me on to a pair of blankets, led the old horse up so as to cast a shadow over me, then hastened to soak a piece of bread in some old whisky. He gave me the bread, saying it would slake my thirst, and stimulate me. Strange as it seemed to me, it did so, and in a short time I was able to rise alone, and sit up.