Читать книгу Life of a Pioneer - James S. Brown - Страница 9

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PUSHING TO THE WEST—OVERHEARING A CONVERSATION WITH COL. COOKE—THE COLONEL FEARS THE MEN WILL STARVE—NO BERRIES, NOT EVEN BARK OF TREES, FOR FOOD—TRUE STATE OF AFFAIRS AS TO THE OUTLOOK KEPT FROM MOST OF THE TROOPS—HIDES, INTESTINES, AND EVEN SOFT EDGES OF HOOFS AND HORNS OF ANIMALS EATEN—"BIRD'S EYE SOUP."—IN A SNOWSTORM—RELICS OF ANCIENT INHABITANTS—CAMPING WITHOUT WATER—OLD SILVER AND COPPER MINES—HARDEST DAY OF THE JOURNEY—MEN APPEAR AS IF STRICKEN WITH DEATH—THE WRITER SO ILL AS TO BE UNABLE To TRAVEL LONGER, AND EXPECTS TO DIE—UNCLE ALEXANDER STEPHENS COMES WITH WATER AND REVIVES HIM—AWFUL SUFFERING IN CAMP—REPORTED SICK NEXT MORNING—BRUTAL DR. SANDERSON GIVES A DEADLY DOSE OF LAUDANUM, BUT THE WRITER VOMITS IT AFTER BEING MADE FEARFULLY SICK—IN TERRIBLE DISTRESS FOR DAYS—HEALED BY THE LAYING ON OF HANDS OF THE ELDERS OF THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS.

IT was but a little while after this that we left the Rio Grande del Norte, and pressed on toward the west. One day, while passing up a brushy canyon, my place being with the advance guard, in the rear of the road hands, I had occasion to step into the brush by the roadside. While there, out of sight, Col. Cooke and staff and guides came along and stopped right opposite me, so close that I dared not move lest they should see me. As they came up, the colonel inquired of the guides if there were no fruit or berries that men could live on; the reply was, no, not a thing. They were talking about some place ahead that the guides were acquainted with. The colonel then asked if there were no trees that had bark something like elm bark, which men could live on for a few days; but the answer was that there was neither fruit, roots nor bark, that the country was a barren waste.

Upon receiving this information, the colonel exclaimed, "What can we do?" In response, the suggestion was that the guides did not know unless some of the stronger men and mules were sent on a forced march to the first place in California, where they could get a bunch of beef cattle and meet us on the desert with them. There was some further conversation, when it was ended by the colonel exclaiming, with a despairing oath, "I expect the men will starve to death!"

The deep gloom of sadness hung over those who knew of the situation. All of the men, however, were not informed of the gravity of the position we were in. At that time we were drawing less than half rations. The fresh meat we had was more like glue or jelly than beef. The plan had been adopted of slaughtering the weak cattle first, so that the stronger animals could travel faster. When an animal became too weak to hold up one end of a yoke, or to carry a packsaddle, it was slaughtered, and the flesh issued to the men. Not a scrap of the animal would be left on the ground; the hide, intestines—all was eaten; even the tender or soft edges of the hoofs and horns would be roasted, and gnawed at so long as a human being possibly could draw subsistence therefrom. Many times we were without water to wash the offal. The bones would be carried along, broken up, and boiled and re-boiled, in some instances as long as there could be seen a single "bird's eye" (the name given to solitary spots of grease that would come to the surface) of grease rise on the water; then each man was eager for his share.

Sometimes cattle became so weak that men were left with them to come up to the command after night. On one occasion, when an old ox could not be got into camp and had to be left four or five miles back, men were sent bright and early next morning, to bring him in. It snowed that night, and in camp things generally were disagreeable. The ox was brought in, slaughtered, and issued to us for rations. If any man had failed to get his share of that white ox at that time there might have been a row, but a fair distribution maintained peace. The place of our camp was called White Ox Creek, and we laid by for one day to rest and refresh ourselves.

From there we traveled over a rough country, but one that evidently had been inhabited ages ago, for we found stone walls, pottery by the acre, and old and dry canals—their former source of water having disappeared. We found in a rock a deep and large hole with water sufficient to supply the command; we secured it by drawing all night, until everything was watered. Then we moved on, and next night camped without water. We passed many old mines, supposed to be of silver and copper, and there were said to be gold mines in the vicinity. Late at night we traveled, and were on the march early the following morning. All day we pressed forward as rapidly as possible, there being no water, and late at night the command came to a place called Dry Lake.

That was the hardest day for me that came in the experience of the whole journey. I had been run down so low with a severe attack of dysentery that I could travel no longer, and laid down. My thirst was intense, and it did not seem possible that I could live till morning. It seemed that everyone was traveling as best he could, for the rearguard passed me without taking any notice. Men went by, looking like death, their mouths black, their eyes sunken till it was difficult to recognize them. Some eyes had a staring glare, which looked as if the monster death were close at hand. Yet the men staggered on, their feet hitting each other, tit for tat, as one was dragged past the other. The hopes of these men were greater than mine, for I had ceased to march. This was the first time I had felt there was little reason to hope that I would ever reach camp again, for I supposed that all the men had passed me. The sun's rays faded away on the eastern mountain tops, and the bright orb dropped beneath the western horizon. For a moment I felt that with me the vital spark would soon sink below the mortal horizon, as if to accompany the king of day.

Just when my hopes were flickering as does a candle when the wick has all but burned out, there came to my ears the sound as of the tinkling of a tin can that seemed to keep time with a soldier's step as he marched. Gradually the sound became more distinct until its approach was a certainty. Then my uncle, Alexander Stephens, came in sight. He had been left to bring up an old spotted ox which had failed, and had driven the animal into the shade of a rocky cliff, where the ox laid down, while the driver hunted around and found a dripping of water as it seeped from a crevice in the rock. He had quenched his thirst and filled his canteen, resting in the meantime, then followed on the trail, pricking the ox with his bayonet.

When Uncle Alexander Stephens came up he handed me his canteen, and the draught of water quickly revived me. I did not think myself able to rise to my feet, but with a little assistance I got up, and took hold of the packsaddle. My knapsack, musket and accoutrements were lashed to the ox, and by a final effort we reached Dry Lake camp, by halting at short intervals along the four miles we had to travel.

Wretched, wretched indeed, was the condition of the command that night. It is doubtful whether at any time in the long march the men suffered more than they did then and the forty-eight hours preceding. Next morning, at the doctor's call, many had to be helped by their comrades to the place designated for the sick.

For myself, two men sat me upon the ground, and held me up till my time came to be questioned. Dr. Sanderson called out, "What is the matter with you?" When he received the information asked for he remarked gruffly: "I've a d—d great mind not to report you sick. I never saw such a d—d set of men in my life. They will not report till d—d nigh dead." I answered that it did not matter to me whether he entered me on the sick list or not, for I could not walk. At this he said sharply. "Not a d—d word out of you or I'll make you walk."

Then he ordered the steward to give me a dose of castor oil and laudanum, stating the quantity. The steward, William Spencer, said, "Isn't it a rather heavy dose?" to which the doctor responded with a curse, telling him to do as he was ordered. At that the dose was poured into a teacup, filling it half full. It was given to me, the steward saying in a low tone of voice. "If you do not throw it up it will kill you." I was assisted back to the company's wagon, and soon vomited the medicine, but not until it had changed my countenance so much that the lieutenant of my company, Cyrus Canfield, did not know me. He came and ordered me out of the wagon, telling me to go to my own company. It was sometime before he could be convinced who I really was, then remarked that I looked so near dead that he could not believe it was I. But when he recognized me he was very kind, and was willing to do anything he could for my relief.

For four days I lay in a dull stupor, when that phase of the disease was checked, and a very high fever set in. My sufferings were so terrible that some of my messmates came into the tent, anointed me with oil, then administered to or prayed for me; and although burning with a high fever till it seemed that I could not live, I was instantly healed, so that when they took their hands off the fever was entirely gone, and I was wet with perspiration. From that time I began to gather strength. That was my first experience with the ordinance of healing by the laying on of hands by the Elders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.