Читать книгу A Backward Glance at Eighty - Charles A. Murdock - Страница 11

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The northwesterly corner of California is a region apart. In its physical characteristics and in its history it has little in common with the rest of the state. With no glamour of Spanish occupancy, its romance is of quite another type. At the time of the discovery of gold in California the northwestern portion of the state was almost unknown territory. For seven hundred miles, from Fort Ross to the mouth of the Columbia, there stretched a practically uncharted coast. A few headlands were designated on the imperfect map and a few streams were poorly sketched in, but the great domain had simply been approached from the sea and its characteristics were mostly a matter of conjecture. So far as is known, not a white man lived in all California west of the Coast Range and north of Fort Ross.

Here is, generally speaking, a mountainous region heavily timbered along the coast, diversified with river valleys and rolling hills. A marked peculiarity is its sharp slope toward the northwest for its entire length. East of the Coast Range the Sacramento River flows due south, while to the west of the broken mountains all the streams flow northwesterly—more northerly than westerly. Eel River flows about 130 miles northerly and, say, forty miles westerly. The same course is taken by the Mattole, the Mad, and the Trinity rivers. The watershed of this corner to the northwest is extensive, including a good part of what are now Mendocino, Trinity, Siskiyou, Humboldt, and Del Norte counties. The drainage of the westerly slope of the mountain ranges north and west of Shasta reaches the Pacific with difficulty. The Klamath River flows southwest for 120 miles until it flanks the Siskiyous. It there meets the Trinity, which flows northwest. The combined rivers take the direction of the Trinity, but the name of the Klamath prevails. It enters the ocean about thirty miles south of the Oregon line. The whole region is extremely mountainous. The course of the river is tortuous, winding among the mountains.

The water-flow shows the general trend of the ranges; but most of the rivers have numerous forks, indicating transverse ridges. From an aeroplane the mountains of northern California would suggest an immense drove of sleeping razor-backed hogs nestling against one another to keep warm, most of their snouts pointed northwest.

Less than one-fourth of the land is tillable, and not more than a quarter of that is level. Yet it is a beautiful, interesting and valuable country, largely diversified, with valuable forests, fine mountain ranges, gently rolling hills, rich river bottoms, and, on the upper Trinity, gold-bearing bars.

Mendocino (in Humboldt County) was given its significant name about 1543. When Heceta and Bodega in 1775 were searching the coast for harbors, they anchored under the lee of the next northerly headland. After the pious manner of the time, having left San Blas on Trinity Sunday, they named their haven Trinidad. Their arrival was six days before the battle of Bunker Hill.

It is about forty-five miles from Cape Mendocino to Trinidad. The bold, mountainous hills, though they often reach the ocean, are somewhat depressed between these points. Halfway between them lies Humboldt Bay, a capacious harbor with a tidal area of twenty-eight miles. It is the best and almost the only harbor from San Francisco to Puget Sound. It is fourteen miles long, in shape like an elongated human ear. It eluded discovery with even greater success than San Francisco Bay, and the story of its final settlement is striking and romantic.

Neither Cabrillo nor Heceta nor Drake makes mention of it. In 1792 Vancouver followed the coast searchingly, but when he anchored in what he called the "nook" of Trinidad he was entirely ignorant of a near-by harbor. We must bear in mind that Spain had but the slightest acquaintance with the empire she claimed. The occasional visits of navigators did not extend her knowledge of the great domain. It is nevertheless surprising that in the long course of the passage of the galleons to and from the Philippines the bays of San Francisco and Humboldt should not have been found even by accident.

The nearest settlement was the Russian colony near Bodega, one hundred and seventy-five miles to the south. In 1811 Kuskoff found a river entering the ocean near the point. He called it Slavianski, but General Vallejo rescued us from that when he referred to it as Russian River. The land was bought from the Indians for a trifle. Madrid was applied to for a title, but the Spaniards declined to give it. The Russians held possession, however, and proceeded with cultivation. To better protect their claims, nineteen miles up the coast, they erected a stockade mounting twenty guns. They called the fort Kosstromitinoff, but the Spaniards referred to it as el fuerte de los Rusos, which was anglicized as Fort Russ, and, finally, as Fort Ross. The colony prospered for a while, but sealing "pinched out" and the territory occupied was too small to satisfy agricultural needs. In 1841 the Russians sold the whole possession to General Sutter for thirty thousand dollars and withdrew from California, returning to Alaska.

In 1827 a party of adventurers started north from Fort Ross for Oregon, following the coast. One Jedidiah Smith, a trapper, was the leader. It is said that Smith River, near the Oregon line, was named for him. Somewhere on the way all but four were reported killed by the Indians. They are supposed to have been the first white men to enter the Humboldt country.

Among the very early settlers in California was Pearson B. Redding, who lived on a ranch near Mount Shasta. In 1845, on a trapping expedition, he struck west through a divide in the Coast Range and discovered a good-sized, rapid river flowing to the west. From its direction and the habit of rivers to seek the sea, he concluded that it was likely to reach the Pacific at about the latitude of Trinidad, named seventy years before. He thereupon gave it the name of Trinity, and in due time left it running and returned to his home.

Three years passed, and gold was discovered by Marshall. Redding was interested and curious and visited the scene of Marshall's find. The American River and its bars reminded him of the Trinity, and when he returned to his home he organized a party to prospect it. Gold was found in moderate quantities, especially on the upper portions. The Trinity mines extended confidence and added to the excitement. Camps sprang up on every bar. The town of Weaverville took the lead, and still holds it. Quite a population followed and the matter of provisioning it became serious. The base of supplies was Sacramento, two hundred miles distant and over a range of mountains. To the coast it could not be more than seventy miles. If the Trinity entered a bay or was navigable, it would be a great saving and of tremendous advantage. The probability or possibility was alluring and was increasingly discussed.

In October, 1849, there were at Rich Bar forty miners short of provisions and ready for any adventure. The Indians reported that eight suns to the west was a large bay with fertile land and tall trees. A vision of a second San Francisco, a port for all northern California, urged them to try for it. Twenty-four men agreed to join the party, and the fifth of November was set for the start. Dr. Josiah Gregg was chosen leader and two Indians were engaged as guides. When the day arrived the rain was pouring and sixteen of the men and the two guides backed out, but the remaining eight were courageous (or foolhardy) and not to be thwarted. With a number of pack animals and eight days' supplies they started up the slippery mountainside. At the summit they encountered a snowstorm and camped for the night. In the morning they faced a western view that would have discouraged most men—a mass of mountains, rough-carved and snow-capped, with main ridges parallel on a northwesterly line. In every direction to the most distant horizon stretched these forbidding mountains. The distance to the ocean was uncertain, and their course to it meant surmounting ridge after ridge of the intervening mountains. They plunged down and on, crossed a swollen stream, and crawled up the eastern side of the next ridge. For six days this performance was repeated. Then they reached a large stream with an almost unsurmountable mountain to the west. They followed down the stream until they found it joined another of about equal size. They had discovered the far-flowing south fork of the Trinity. They managed to swim the united river and found a large Indian village, apparently giving the inhabitants their first view of white men. The natives all fled in fright, leaving their camps to the strange beings. The invaders helped themselves to the smoked salmon that was plentiful, leaving flour in exchange. At dusk about eighty of the fighting sex returned with renewed courage, and threateningly. It took diplomacy to postpone an attack till morning, when powder would be dry. They relied upon a display of magic power from their firearms that would impress superior numbers with the senselessness of hostilities. They did not sleep in great security, and early in the morning proceeded with the demonstration, upon which much depended.

When they set up a target and at sixty yards pierced a scrap of paper and the tree to which it was pinned the effect was satisfactory. The Indians were astonished at the feat, but equally impressed by the unaccountable noise from the explosion. They became very friendly, warned the wonder-workers of the danger to be encountered if they headed north, where Indians were many and fierce, and told them to keep due west.

The perilous journey was continued by the ascent of another mountainside. Provisions soon became very scarce, nothing but flour remaining, and little of that. On the 18th they went dinnerless to their cold blankets. Their animals had been without food for two days, but the next morning they found grass. A redwood forest was soon encountered, and new difficulties developed. The underbrush was dense and no trails were found. Fallen trees made progress very slow. Two miles a day was all they could accomplish. They painfully worked through the section of the marvelous redwood belt destined to astonish the world, reaching a small prairie, where they camped. The following day they devoted to hunting, luckily killing a number of deer. Here they remained several days, drying the venison in the meantime; but when, their strength recuperated, they resumed their journey, the meat was soon exhausted. Three days of fasting for man and beast followed. Two of the horses were left to their fate. Then another prairie yielded more venison and the meat of three bears. For three weeks they struggled on; life was sustained at times by bitter acorns alone.

At length the welcome sound of surf was heard, but three days passed before they reached the ocean. Three of the animals had died of starvation in the last stretch of the forest. The men had not eaten for two days, and devoted the first day on the beach to securing food. One shot a bald eagle; another found a raven devouring a cast-up fish, both of which he secured. All were stewed together, and a good night's sleep followed the questionable meal.

The party struck the coast near the headland that in 1775 had been named Trinidad, but not being aware of this fact they named it, for their leader, Gregg's Point.

After two days' feasting on mussels and dried salmon obtained from the Indians, they kept on south. Soon after crossing a small stream, now named Little River, they came to one by no means so little. Dr. Gregg insisted on getting out his instruments and ascertaining the latitude, but the others had no scientific interest and were in a hurry to go on. They hired Indians to row them across in canoes, and all except the doctor bundled in. Finding himself about to be left, he grabbed up his instruments and waded out into the stream to reach the canoe, which had no intention of leaving him. He got in, wet and very angry, nursing his wrath till shore was reached; then he treated his companions to some vigorous language. They responded in kind, and the altercation became so violent that the row gave the stream its name, Mad River.

They continued down the beach, camping when night overtook them. Wood, the chronicler of the expedition, [Footnote: "The Narrative of L.K. Wood," published many years after, and largely incorporated in Bledsoe's "History of the Indian Wars of Northern California," is the source of most of the incidents relating to Gregg's party embraced in this chapter.] and Buck went in different directions to find water. Wood returned first with a bucketful, brackish and poor. Buck soon after arrived with a supply that looked much better, but when Gregg sampled it he made a wry face and asked Buck where he found it. He replied that he dipped it out of a smooth lake about a half mile distant. It was good plain salt water; they had discovered the mythical bay—or supposed they had. They credulously named it Trinity, expecting to come to the river later. The next day they proceeded down the narrow sand strip that now bounds the west side of Humboldt Bay, but when they reached the harbor entrance from the ocean they were compelled to retrace their steps and try the east shore. The following day they headed the bay, camping at a beautiful plateau on the edge of the redwood belt, giving a fine view of a noble landlocked harbor and a rich stretch of bottom land reaching to Mad River. Here they found an abundant spring, and narrowly missed a good supper; for they shot a large elk, which, to their great disappointment, took to the brush. It was found dead the next morning, and its head, roasted in ashes, constituted a happy Christmas dinner—for December 25th had arrived, completing an even fifty days since the start from Rich Bar.

They proceeded leisurely down the east side of the bay, stopping the second day nearly opposite the entrance. It seemed a likely place for a townsite, and they honored the water-dipping discoverer by calling it Bucksport. Then they went on, crossing the little stream now named Elk River, and camping near what was subsequently called Humboldt Point. They were disappointed that no river of importance emptied into so fine a bay, but they realized the importance of such a harbor and the value of the soil and timber. They were, however, in no condition to settle, or even to tarry. Their health and strength were impaired, ammunition was practically exhausted, and there were no supplies. They would come back, but now they must reach civilization. It was midwinter and raining almost constantly. They had little idea of distance, but knew there were settlers to the south, and that they must reach them or starve. So they turned from the bay they had found to save their lives.

The third day they reached a large river flowing from the south, entering the ocean a few miles south of the bay. As they reached it they met two very old Indians loaded down with eels just taken from the river, which the Indians freely shared with the travelers. They were so impressed with them and more that followed that they bestowed on the magnificent river which with many branches drains one of the most majestic domains on earth the insignificant, almost sacrilegious name of Eel!

For two days they camped, consuming eels and discussing the future. A most unfortunate difference developed, dividing the little group of men who had suffered together so long. Gregg and three others favored following the ocean beach. The other four, headed by Wood, were of the opinion that the better course would be to follow up Eel River to its head, crossing the probably narrow divide and following down some stream headed either south or east. Neither party would yield and they parted company, each almost hopeless.

Wood and his companions soon found their plan beset with great difficulties. Spurs of the mountains came to the river's edge and cut off ascent. After five days they left the river and sought a mountain ridge. A heavy snowfall added to their discomfiture. They killed a small deer, and camped for five days, devouring it thankfully. Compelled by the snow, they returned to the river-bed, the skin of the deer their only food. One morning they met and shot at five grizzly bears, but none were killed. The next morning in a mountain gully eight ugly grizzlies faced them. In desperation they determined to attack. Wood and Wilson were to advance and fire. The others held themselves in reserve—one of them up a tree. At fifty feet each selected a bear and fired. Wilson killed his bear; Wood thought he had finished his. The beast fell, biting the earth and writhing in agony. Wilson sensibly climbed a tree and called upon Wood to do likewise. He started to first reload his rifle and the ball stuck. When the two shots were fired five of the bears started up the mountain, but one sat quietly on its haunches watching proceedings. As Wood struggled with his refractory bullet it started for him. He gained a small tree and climbed beyond reach. Unable to load, he used his rifle to beat back the beast as it tried to claw him. To his horror the bear he thought was killed rose to its feet and furiously charged the tree, breaking it down at once. Wood landed on his feet and ran down the mountain to a small buckeye, the bear after him. He managed to hook his arm around the tree, swinging his body clear. The wounded bear was carried by its momentum well down the mountain. Wood ran for another tree, the other bear close after him, snapping at his heels. Before he could climb out of reach he was grabbed by the ankle and pulled down. The wounded bear came jumping up the mountain and caught him by the shoulder. They pulled against each other as if to dismember him. His hip was dislocated and he suffered some painful flesh wounds.

His clothing was stripped from his body and he felt the end had come, but the bears seemed disinclined to seize his flesh. They were evidently suspicious of white meat. Finally one disappeared up the ravine, while the other sat down a hundred yards away, and keenly watched him. As long as he kept perfectly still the bear was quiet, but if he moved at all it rushed upon him.

Wilson came to his aid and both finally managed to climb trees beyond reach. The bear then sat down between the trees, watching both and growling threateningly if either moved. It finally tired of the game and to their great relief disappeared up the mountain. Wood, suffering acutely, was carried down to the camp, where they remained twelve days, subsisting on the bear Wilson had killed.

Wood grew worse instead of better, and the situation was grave. Little ammunition was left, they were practically without shoes or clothing, and certain death seemed to face them. Wood urged them to seek their own safety, saying they could leave him with the Indians, or put an end to his sufferings at any time. Failing to induce the Indians to take him, it was decided to try to bind him on his horse and take him along on the hard journey. He suffered torture, but it was a day at a time and he had great fortitude. After ten days of incredible suffering they reached the ranch of Mrs. Mark West, thirty miles from Sonoma. The date was February 17th, one hundred and four days from Rich Bar.

The four who started to follow the beach had experiences no less trying. They found it impossible to accomplish their purpose. Bold mountains came quite to the shore and blocked the way. They finally struck east for the Sacramento Valley. They were short of food and suffered unutterably. Dr. Gregg grew weaker day by day until he fell from his horse and died from starvation, speaking no word. The other three pushed on and managed to reach Sacramento a few days after the Wood party arrived at Sonoma.

While these adventurous miners were prosecuting the search for the mythical harbor, enterprising citizens of San Francisco renewed efforts to reach it from the ocean. In December, 1849, soon after Wood and his companions started from the Trinity River, the brig "Cameo" was dispatched north to search carefully for a port. She returned without success, but was again dispatched. On this trip she rediscovered Trinidad. Interest grew, and by March of 1850 not less than forty vessels were enlisted in the search.

My father, who left Boston early in 1849, going by Panama and the Chagres River, had been through three fires in San Francisco and was ready for any change. He joined with a number of acquaintances on one of these ventures, acting as secretary of the company. They purchased the "Paragon," a Gloucester fishing-boat of 125 tons burden, and early in March, under the command of Captain March, with forty-two men in the party, sailed north. They hugged the coast and kept a careful lookout for a harbor, but passed the present Humboldt Bay in rather calm weather and in the daytime without seeing it. The cause of what was then inexplicable is now quite plain. The entrance has the prevailing northwest slant. The view into the bay from the ocean is cut off by the overlapping south spit. A direct view reveals no entrance; you can not see in by looking back after having passed it. At sea the line of breakers seems continuous, the protruding point from the south connecting in surf line with that from the north. Moreover, the bay at the entrance is very narrow. The wooded hills are so near the entrance that there seems no room for a bay.

The "Paragon" soon found heavy weather and was driven far out to sea. Then for three days she was in front of a gale driving her in shore. She reached the coast nearly at the Oregon line and dropped anchor in the lee of a small island near Point St. George. In the night a gale sprang up, blowing fiercely in shore toward an apparently solid cliff. One after another the cables to her three anchors parted, and my father said it was with a feeling of relief that they heard the last one snap, the suspense giving way to what they believed to be the end of all. But there proved to be an unsuspected sandspit at the base of the cliff, and the "Paragon" at high tide plowed her way to a berth she never left. Her bones long marked the spot, and for many years the roadstead was known as Paragon Bay. No lives were lost and no property was saved. About twenty-five of the survivors returned to San Francisco on the "Cameo," but my father stayed by, and managed to reach Humboldt Bay soon after its discovery, settling in Uniontown in May, 1850.

The glory of the ocean discovery remained for the "Laura Virginia," a Baltimore craft, commanded by Lieutenant Douglass Ottinger, a revenue officer on leave of absence. She left soon after the "Paragon," and kept close in shore. Soon after leaving Cape Mendocino she reached the mouth of Eel River and came to anchor. The next day three other vessels anchored and the "General Morgan" sent a boat over the river bar. The "Laura Virginia" proceeded north and the captain soon saw the waters of a bay, but could see no entrance. He proceeded, anchoring first at Trinidad and then at where Crescent City was later located. There he found the "Cameo" at anchor and the "Paragon" on the beach. Remaining in the roadstead two days, he started back, and tracing a stream of fresh-looking water discovered the mouth of the Klamath. Arriving at Trinidad, he sent five men down by land to find out if there was an entrance to the bay he had seen. On their favorable report, Second Officer Buhne was instructed to take a ship's boat and sound the entrance before the vessel should attempt it. On April 9, 1850, he crossed the bar, finding four and a half fathoms. Buhne remained in the bay till the ship dropped down. On April 14th he went out and brought her in. After much discussion the bay and the city they proposed to locate were named Humboldt, after the distinguished naturalist and traveler, for whom a member of the company had great admiration.

Let us now return to L.K. Wood, whom we left at the Mark West home in the Sonoma Valley, recovering from the serious injuries incident to the bear encounter on Eel River. After about six weeks of recuperation, Wood pushed on to San Francisco and organized a party of thirty men to return to Humboldt and establish a settlement. They were twenty days on the journey, arriving at the shore of the bay on April 19th, five days after the entrance of the "Laura Virginia." They were amazed to see the vessel at anchor off Humboldt Point. They quietly drew back into the woods, and skirting the east side of the bay came out at the Bucksport site. Four men remained to hold it. The others pushed on to the head of the bay, where they had enjoyed their Christmas dinner. This they considered the best place for a town. For three days they were very busily engaged in posting notices, laying foundations for homes, and otherwise fortifying their claims. They named the new settlement Uniontown. About six years afterward it was changed to Arcata, the original Indian name for the spot. The change was made in consideration of the confusion occasioned by there being a Uniontown in El Dorado County.

And so the hidden harbor that had long inspired legend and tradition, and had been the source of great suffering and loss, was revealed. It was not fed by the Trinity or any other river. The mouth of the Trinity was not navigable; it did not boast a mouth—the Klamath just swallowed it. The Klamath's far-northern mouth was a poor affair, useless for commercial purposes. But a great empire had been opened and an enormously serviceable harbor had been added to California's assets. It aided mining and created immense lumber interests.

Strange as it may seem, Humboldt Bay was not discovered at this time. Some years ago a searcher of the archives of far-off St. Petersburg found unquestionable proof that the discovery was made in 1806, and not in 1849-50. Early in the nineteenth century the Russian-American Company was all-powerful and especially active in the fur trade. It engaged an American captain, Jonathan Winship, who commanded an American crew on the ship "Ocean." The outfit, accompanied by a hundred Aleut Indians, with fifty-two small boats, was sent from Alaska down the California coast in pursuit of seals. They anchored at Trinidad and spread out for the capture of sea-otter. Eighteen miles south they sighted a bay and finally found the obscure entrance. They entered with a boat and then followed with the ship, which anchored nearly opposite the location of Eureka. They found fifteen feet of water on the bar. From the large number of Indians living on its shores, they called it the Bay of the Indians. The entrance they named Resanof. Winship made a detailed sketch of the bay and its surroundings, locating the Indian villages and the small streams that enter the bay. It was sent to St. Petersburg and entered on a Russian map. The Spaniards seem never to have known anything of it, and the Americans evidently considered the incident of no importance.

Humboldt as a community developed slowly. For five years its real resources were neglected.