The land of gold; or, Three years in California

by Walter Colton

CHAPTER III.

A THIEF OBEYING ORDERS.—GAME.—NO PENITENTIARY SYSTEM.—THE CALIFORNIA CART ON A GALA DAY.—THE RUNAWAY DAUGHTER.—FAITH OF THE INDIANS.—RETURN FROM THE WAR.—FIRST TRIAL BY JURY.—INDIAN AND HIS SQUAW ON THE HUNT.—WHALES IN THE BAY.—THE TWO GAMBLERS.—LADIES ON HORSEBACK.—MERRIMENT IN DEATH.—THE ENGLISHMAN AND HIS MISTRESS.

Monday, Aug. 24. One of our officers, bound with dispatches to San Juan, fell in with an Indian to-day, on a horse, without saddle or bridle, save a lasso; and knowing from this circumstance that he had stolen the animal, ordered him to come to Monterey and deliver himself up to the alcalde, and then passed on. So on the Indian came with the horse, and presented himself at our office.

I asked him what he wanted; he told me the order he had received; but I could not at first comprehend its import, and inquired of him if he knew why the order had been given him. He replied, that it was in consequence of his having taken the horse of another man. I asked him if he had stolen the animal; he said yes, he had taken him, but had brought him in here and given himself up as ordered; that he could not escape, as the Americans were all over California. I told him stealing a horse was a crime, and sentenced him to three months’ labor on the public works. He was half naked. I ordered him comfortable clothes, and gave him a plug of tobacco, and in an hour he was at his task, chewing and cheerful. He is not wanting in intelligence; and if he only had as much respect for the rights of property as he has for military orders, he might be a useful member of the community.

Oats in California grow wild. The last crop plants the next, without the aid of man. The yield is sufficient to repay the labors of the husbandman, but is gratuitously thrown at his feet. But the fecundity of nature here is not confined to the vegetable kingdom, it is characteristic of the animals that sport in wild life over these hills and valleys. A sheep has two lambs a year; and if twins, four: and one litter of pigs follows another so fast that the squealers and grunters are often confounded.

Wednesday, Aug. 26. The Californians breakfast at eight, dine at twelve, take tea at four, supper at eight, and then go to bed—unless there is a fandango. The supper is the most substantial meal of the three, and would visit anybody but a Californian with the nightmare. But their constant exercise in the open air and on horseback gives them the digestion of the ostrich.

The only meat consumed here to any extent is beef. It is beef for breakfast, beef for dinner, and beef for supper. A pig is quite a rarity; and as for chickens, they are reserved for the sick. The woods are full of partridges and hare; the streams and lagoons are covered with ducks and wild geese; and the harbor abounds with the most delicious fish. But no Californian will angle or hunt, while he has a horse or saddle left. And as for the Indians, but very few of them have any hunting gear beyond the bow and arrow; with these they can kill the deer and elk, but a partridge and hare are too shy and too quick. They spear a large salmon which frequents Carmel river, three miles distant, and bring it in to market. This fish is often three feet long, extremely fat, and of a flavor that takes from Lent half the merit of its abstinence. Spearing them is high sport for the Indian, and is another feature in California life.

Thursday, Aug. 27. Nothing puzzles me so much as the absence of a penitentiary system. There are no work-houses here; no buildings adapted to the purpose; no tools, and no trades. The custom has been to fine Spaniards, and whip Indians. The discrimination is unjust, and the punishments ill suited to the ends proposed. I have substituted labor; and have now eight Indians, three Californians, and one Englishman at work making adobes. They have all been sentenced for stealing horses or bullocks. I have given them their task: each is to make fifty adobes a day, and for all over this they are paid. They make seventy-five, and for the additional twenty-five each gets as many cents. This is paid to them every Saturday night, and they are allowed to get with it any thing but rum. They are comfortably lodged and fed by the government. I have appointed one of their number captain. They work in the field; require no other guard; not one of them has attempted to run away.

Friday, Aug. 28. The ox-cart of the Californian is quite unique and primitive. The wheels are cut transversely from the butt-end of a tree, and have holes through the centre for a huge wood axle. The tongue is a long, heavy beam, and the yoke resting on the necks of the oxen, is lashed to their horns, close down to the root; from these they draw, instead of the chest, as with us; and they draw enormous loads, but the animals are large and powerful.

But to return to the cart. On gala days it is swept out, and covered with mats; a deep body is put on, which is arched with hoop-poles, and over these a pair of sheets are extended for a covering. Into this the ladies are tumbled, when three or four yoke of oxen, with as many Indian drivers, and ten times as many dogs, start ahead. The hallooing of the drivers, the barking of the dogs, and the loud laughter of the girls make a common chorus. The quail takes to the covert as the roaring establishment comes on, and even the owl suspends his melancholy note. What has his sad tone to do amid such noise and mirth? It is like the piping cry of an infant amid the revelry and tumult of the carnival.