Chapter 38

Plan of the Salt Lake expedition Great sandy deserts Sufferings

from thirst Ogden's River Trails and smoke of lurking

savages Thefts at night A trapper's revenge Alarms of a guilty

conscience A murderous victory Californian mountains Plains

along the Pacific Arrival at Monterey Account of the place and

neighborhood Lower California Its extent The

Peninsula Soil Climate Production Its settlements by the

Jesuits Their sway over the Indians Their expulsion Ruins of a

missionary establishment Sublime scenery Upper

California Missions Their power and policy Resources of the

country Designs of foreign nations

IT WAS ON THE 24TH of July, in the preceding year (1833), that

the brigade of forty men set out from Green River valley, to

explore the Great Salt Lake. They were to make the complete

circuit of it, trapping on all the streams which should fall in

their way, and to keep journals and make charts, calculated to

impart a knowledge of the lake and the surrounding country. All

the resources of Captain Bonneville had been tasked to fit out

this favorite expedition. The country lying to the southwest of

the mountains, and ranging down to California, was as yet almost

unknown; being out of the buffalo range, it was untraversed by

the trapper, who preferred those parts of the wilderness where

the roaming herds of that species of animal gave him

comparatively an abundant and luxurious life. Still it was said

the deer, the elk, and the bighorn were to be found there, so

that, with a little diligence and economy, there was no danger of

lacking food. As a precaution, however, the party halted on Bear

River and hunted for a few days, until they had laid in a supply

of dried buffalo meat and venison; they then passed by the head

waters of the Cassie River, and soon found themselves launched on

an immense sandy desert. Southwardly, on their left, they beheld

the Great Salt Lake, spread out like a sea, but they found no

stream running into it. A desert extended around them, and

stretched to the southwest, as far as the eye could reach,

rivalling the deserts of Asia and Africa in sterility. There was

neither tree, nor herbage, nor spring, nor pool, nor running

stream, nothing but parched wastes of sand, where horse and rider

were in danger of perishing.

Their sufferings, at length, became so great that they abandoned

their intended course, and made towards a range of snowy

mountains, brightening in the north, where they hoped to find

water. After a time, they came upon a small stream leading

directly towards these mountains. Having quenched their burning

thirst, and refreshed themselves and their weary horses for a

time, they kept along this stream, which gradually increased in

size, being fed by numerous brooks. After approaching the

mountains, it took a sweep toward the southwest, and the

travellers still kept along it, trapping beaver as they went, on

the flesh of which they subsisted for the present, husbanding

their dried meat for future necessities.

The stream on which they had thus fallen is called by some, Mary

River, but is more generally known as Ogden's River, from Mr.

Peter Ogden, an enterprising and intrepid leader of the Hudson's

Bay Company, who first explored it. The wild and half-desert

region through which the travellers were passing, is wandered

over by hordes of Shoshokoes, or Root Diggers, the forlorn branch

of the Snake tribe. They are a shy people, prone to keep aloof

from the stranger. The travellers frequently met with their

trails, and saw the smoke of their fires rising in various parts

of the vast landscape, so that they knew there were great numbers

in the neighborhood, but scarcely ever were any of them to be met

with.

After a time, they began to have vexatious proofs that, if the

Shoshokoes were quiet by day, they were busy at night. The camp

was dogged by these eavesdroppers; scarce a morning, but various

articles were missing, yet nothing could be seen of the

marauders. What particularly exasperated the hunters, was to have

their traps stolen from the streams. One morning, a trapper of a

violent and savage character, discovering that his traps had been

carried off in the night, took a horrid oath to kill the first

Indian he should meet, innocent or guilty. As he was returning

with his comrades to camp, he beheld two unfortunate Diggers,

seated on the river bank, fishing. Advancing upon them, he

levelled his rifle, shot one upon the spot, and flung his

bleeding body into the stream. The other Indian fled and was

suffered to escape. Such is the indifference with which acts of

violence are regarded in the wilderness, and such the immunity an

armed ruffian enjoys beyond the barriers of the laws, that the

only punishment this desperado met with, was a rebuke from the

leader of the party. The trappers now left the scene of this

infamous tragedy, and kept on westward, down the course of the

river, which wound along with a range of mountains on the right

hand, and a sandy, but somewhat fertile plain, on the left. As

they proceeded, they beheld columns of smoke rising, as before,

in various directions, which their guilty consciences now

converted into alarm signals, to arouse the country and collect

the scattered bands for vengeance.

After a time, the natives began to make their appearance, and

sometimes in considerable numbers, but always pacific; the

trappers, however, suspected them of deep-laid plans to draw them

into ambuscades; to crowd into and get possession of their camp,

and various other crafty and daring conspiracies, which, it is

probable, never entered into the heads of the poor savages. In

fact, they are a simple, timid, inoffensive race, unpractised in

warfare, and scarce provided with any weapons, excepting for the

chase. Their lives are passed in the great sand plains and along

the adjacent rivers; they subsist sometimes on fish, at other

times on roots and the seeds of a plant, called the cat's-tail.

They are of the same kind of people that Captain Bonneville found

upon Snake River, and whom he found so mild and inoffensive.

The trappers, however, had persuaded themselves that they were

making their way through a hostile country, and that implacable

foes hung round their camp or beset their path, watching for an

opportunity to surprise them. At length, one day they came to the

banks of a stream emptying into Ogden's River, which they were

obliged to ford. Here a great number of Shoshokoes were posted on

the opposite bank. Persuaded they were there with hostile intent,

they advanced upon them, levelled their rifles, and killed twenty

five of them upon the spot. The rest fled to a short distance,

then halted and turned about, howling and whining like wolves,

and uttering the most piteous wailings. The trappers chased them

in every direction; the poor wretches made no defence, but fled

with terror; neither does it appear from the accounts of the

boasted victors, that a weapon had been wielded or a weapon

launched by the Indians throughout the affair. We feel perfectly

convinced that the poor savages had no hostile intention, but had

merely gathered together through motives of curiosity, as others

of their tribe had done when Captain Bonneville and his

companions passed along Snake River.

The trappers continued down Ogden's River, until they ascertained

that it lost itself in a great swampy lake, to which there was no

apparent discharge. They then struck directly westward, across

the great chain of California mountains intervening between these

interior plains and the shores of the Pacific.

For three and twenty days they were entangled among these

mountains, the peaks and ridges of which are in many places

covered with perpetual snow. Their passes and defiles present the

wildest scenery, partaking of the sublime rather than the

beautiful, and abounding with frightful precipices. The

sufferings of the travellers among these savage mountains were

extreme: for a part of the time they were nearly starved; at

length, they made their way through them, and came down upon the

plains of New California, a fertile region extending along the

coast, with magnificent forests, verdant savannas, and prairies

that looked like stately parks. Here they found deer and other

game in abundance, and indemnified themselves for past famine.

They now turned toward the south, and passing numerous small

bands of natives, posted upon various streams, arrived at the

Spanish village and post of Monterey.

This is a small place, containing about two hundred houses,

situated in latitude 37 north. It has a capacious bay, with

indifferent anchorage. The surrounding country is extremely

fertile, especially in the valleys; the soil is richer, the

further you penetrate into the interior, and the climate is

described as a perpetual spring. Indeed, all California,

extending along the Pacific Ocean from latitude 19 30' to 42

north, is represented as one of the most fertile and beautiful

regions in North America.

Lower California, in length about seven hundred miles, forms a

great peninsula, which crosses the tropics and terminates in the

torrid zone. It is separated from the mainland by the Gulf of

California, sometimes called the Vermilion Sea; into this gulf

empties the Colorado of the West, the Seeds-ke-dee, or Green

River, as it is also sometimes called. The peninsula is traversed

by stern and barren mountains, and has many sandy plains, where

the only sign of vegetation is the cylindrical cactus growing

among the clefts of the rocks. Wherever there is water, however,

and vegetable mould, the ardent nature of the climate quickens

everything into astonishing fertility. There are valleys

luxuriant with the rich and beautiful productions of the tropics.

There the sugar-cane and indigo plant attain a perfection

unequalled in any other part of North America. There flourish the

olive, the fig, the date, the orange, the citron, the

pomegranate, and other fruits belonging to the voluptuous

climates of the south; with grapes in abundance, that yield a

generous wine. In the interior are salt plains; silver mines and

scanty veins of gold are said, likewise, to exist; and pearls of

a beautiful water are to be fished upon the coast.

The peninsula of California was settled in 1698, by the Jesuits,

who, certainly, as far as the natives were concerned, have

generally proved the most beneficent of colonists. In the present

instance, they gained and maintained a footing in the country

without the aid of military force, but solely by religious

influence. They formed a treaty, and entered into the most

amicable relations with the natives, then numbering from

twenty-five to thirty thousand souls, and gained a hold upon

their affections, and a control over their minds, that effected a

complete change in their condition. They built eleven missionary

establishments in the various valleys of the peninsula, which

formed rallying places for the surrounding savages, where they

gathered together as sheep into the fold, and surrendered

themselves and their consciences into the hands of these

spiritual pastors. Nothing, we are told, could exceed the

implicit and affectionate devotion of the Indian converts to the

Jesuit fathers, and the Catholic faith was disseminated widely

through the wilderness. The growing power and influence of the

Jesuits in the New World at length excited the jealousy of the

Spanish government, and they were banished from the colonies. The

governor, who arrived at California to expel them, and to take

charge of the country, expected to find a rich and powerful

fraternity, with immense treasures hoarded in their missions, and

an army of Indians ready to defend them. On the contrary, he

beheld a few venerable silverhaired priests coming humbly forward

to meet him, followed by a throng of weeping, but submissive

natives. The heart of the governor, it is said, was so touched by

this unexpected sight, that he shed tears; but he had to execute

his orders. The Jesuits were accompanied to the place of their

embarkation by their simple and affectionate parishioners, who

took leave of them with tears and sobs. Many of the latter

abandoned their heriditary abodes, and wandered off to join their

southern brethren, so that but a remnant remained in the

peninsula. The Franciscans immediately succeeded the Jesuits, and

subsequently the Dominicans; but the latter managed their affairs

ill. But two of the missionary establishments are at present

occupied by priests; the rest are all in ruins, excepting one,

which remains a monument of the former power and prosperity of

the order. This is a noble edifice, once the seat of the chief of

the resident Jesuits. It is situated in a beautiful valley, about

half way between the Gulf of California and the broad ocean, the

peninsula being here about sixty miles wide. The edifice is of

hewn stone, one story high, two hundred and ten feet in front,

and about fifty-five feet deep. The walls are six feet thick, and

sixteen feet high, with a vaulted roof of stone, about two feet

and a half in thickness. It is now abandoned and desolate; the

beautiful valley is without an inhabitant-- not a human being

resides within thirty miles of the place!

In approaching this deserted mission-house from the south, the

traveller passes over the mountain of San Juan, supposed to be

the highest peak in the Californias. From this lofty eminence, a

vast and magnificent prospect unfolds itself; the great Gulf of

California, with the dark blue sea beyond, studded with islands;

and in another direction, the immense lava plain of San Gabriel.

The splendor of the climate gives an Italian effect to the

immense prospect. The sky is of a deep blue color, and the

sunsets are often magnificent beyond description. Such is a

slight and imperfect sketch of this remarkable peninsula.

Upper California extends from latitude 31 10' to 42 on the

Pacific, and inland, to the great chain of snow-capped mountains

which divide it from the sand plains of the interior. There are

about twenty-one missions in this province, most of which were

established about fifty years since, and are generally under the

care of the Franciscans. These exert a protecting sway over about

thirty-five thousand Indian converts, who reside on the lands

around the mission houses. Each of these houses has fifteen miles

square of land allotted to it, subdivided into small lots,

proportioned to the number of Indian converts attached to the

mission. Some are enclosed with high walls; but in general they

are open hamlets, composed of rows of huts, built of sunburnt

bricks; in some instances whitewashed and roofed with tiles. Many

of them are far in the interior, beyond the reach of all military

protection, and dependent entirely on the good will of the

natives, which never fails them. They have made considerable

progress in teaching the Indians the useful arts. There are

native tanners, shoemakers, weavers, blacksmiths, stonecutters,

and other artificers attached to each establishment. Others are

taught husbandry, and the rearing of cattle and horses; while the

females card and spin wool, weave, and perform the other duties

allotted to their sex in civilized life. No social intercourse is

allowed between the unmarried of the opposite sexes after working

hours; and at night they are locked up in separate apartments,

and the keys delivered to the priests.

The produce of the lands, and all the profits arising from sales,

are entirely at the disposal of the priests; whatever is not

required for the support of the missions, goes to augment a fund

which is under their control. Hides and tallow constitute the

principal riches of the missions, and, indeed, the main commerce

of the country. Grain might be produced to an unlimited extent at

the establishments, were there a sufficient market for it. Olives

and grapes are also reared at the missions.

Horses and horned cattle abound throughout all this region; the

former may be purchased at from three to five dollars, but they

are of an inferior breed. Mules, which are here of a large size

and of valuable qualities, cost from seven to ten dollars.

There are several excellent ports along this coast. San Diego,

San Barbara, Monterey, the bay of San Francisco, and the northern

port of Bondago; all afford anchorage for ships of the largest

class. The port of San Francisco is too well known to require

much notice in this place. The entrance from the sea is

sixty-seven fathoms deep, and within, whole navies might ride

with perfect safety. Two large rivers, which take their rise in

mountains two or three hundred miles to the east, and run through

a country unsurpassed for soil and climate, empty themselves into

the harbor. The country around affords admirable timber for

ship-building. In a word, this favored port combines advantages

which not only fit it for a grand naval depot, but almost render

it capable of being made the dominant military post of these

seas.

Such is a feeble outline of the Californian coast and country,

the value of which is more and more attracting the attention of

naval powers. The Russians have always a ship of war upon this

station, and have already encroached upon the Californian

boundaries, by taking possession of the port of Bondago, and

fortifying it with several guns. Recent surveys have likewise

been made, both by the Russians and the English; and we have

little doubt, that, at no very distant day, this neglected, and,

until recently, almost unknown region, will be found to possess

sources of wealth sufficient to sustain a powerful and prosperous

empire. Its inhabitants, themselves, are but little aware of its

real riches; they have not enterprise sufficient to acquaint

themselves with a vast interior that lies almost a terra

incognita; nor have they the skill and industry to cultivate

properly the fertile tracts along the coast; nor to prosecute

that foreign commerce which brings all the resources of a country

into profitable action.