Dr. Haines and C. S. Fifield, who left us on Raft River, are both in the city at the present time. Fifield has a paint shop and is doing a good business. Dr. Haines has a small hospital for the sick and seems to be doing a considerable business and says he is making money.
Mr. Woodbury, who was a member of the Granite State Company from New Hampshire, is with Dr. Haines, and is very sick. He was taken with the diarrhoea soon after he entered the valley and has since continually been growing worse.
He knew me very readily when I entered his room, and taking me by the hand, said with tears in his eyes, that he should never again see his home or his friends. I tried in vain to cheer him, telling him that there still was hope for his recovery, but it was all of no avail. He said he should live but a few days, and his prediction proved too true. Poor fellow! A wife and family in New Hampshire waited in vain for his return home.
While in Sacramento I also saw a Mr. A. Webster, with whom I became acquainted before I left Hudson. He was sick with the scurvy, and unable to perform any labor. He was selling cakes on the levee. I thought that his existence, too, would soon terminate, but I never after heard from him. Probably he sleeps, with the many thousands of gold hunters, on the banks of the Sacramento—the sleep that knows no waking.
Instances of a similar description are almost daily met with in California. Men who left their homes and friends in the East to take their chances in the mines, if possible, to gain a few paltry dollars in the New Eldorado, are stricken by disease, and death soon ends their earthly career. It seems truly hard to die in California among strangers, with no friends near to sympathize and in some small degree, alleviate the pains of their dying moments.
On Wednesday, December 26, we left Sacramento City and started on our journey for Feather River. Our boat was loaded down with provisions, liquors and other articles. Thomas D. Bonner was captain, A. W. Pinney and myself constituted the crew, and we had two passengers aboard—a North Carolinian by the name of Stedman, (who by the way agreed to work his passage up the river), and a physician from Nova Scotia.
The North Carolina man seemed to be somewhat bigoted and wanted the best accommodations the boat afforded, and while we were making our way up the river he never offered to pull an oar or do anything to assist us in the least, but always kept the best seat aboard the boat dry from morning until night by sitting upon it steadily with an India rubber blanket over him when it rained, which was a considerable part of the time. This did not appeal to me as being the proper manner for him “to work his passage” up the river, as the stream was high with a rapid current. With a heavily loaded boat it was quite difficult for two men to make any progress with their oars against the strong current. As Captain Bonner failed to remind Mr. Stedman about his agreement to work his passage up the river, I thought I would take the risk to jog his memory in relation to it. The result was instantaneous and Mr. Stedman and I had a falling out immediately. He was quite excited and seemed to be on the point of explosion. I certainly anticipated an immediate challenge from Mr. Stedman to meet him in deadly combat and settle the matter Southern fashion. But for some unknown cause he suffered me to continue to live. Had a challenge been forthcoming I cannot now say what the outcome would have been.
The Sacramento was very high, almost at full banks, and having had a head wind, we made very slow progress. At some points along the river the banks were overflown and the valley for miles in extent back from the river was one wide sheet of water, extending as far as the eye could reach. The valley of the Sacramento is nearly level and extends from the river to the Sierra Nevada mountains on the east, and to the coast range on the west, and at some points it is fifty or sixty miles wide.
Pinney and myself pulled the boat up the river against the wind and current, Captain Bonner sitting in the stern and steering her, while Mr. Stedman and the doctor made themselves as comfortable as was possible under the circumstances.
We had three barrels of liquors, brandy and whiskey, aboard and soon after we began to ascend the river, Captain Bonner, president of the New Hampshire Temperance society, and late a noted temperance lecturer, notwithstanding, tapped one of the whiskey barrels and commenced drinking the contents. This movement on his part somewhat surprised me, although I had began to learn not to be easily surprised at the acts of men in California. But I had heard Captain Bonner say much in favor of temperance and I supposed he would be among the last to taste of whiskey.