Читать книгу Life of a Pioneer: Being the Autobiography of James S. Brown - James S. Brown - Страница 11

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EXEMPLAR'S CONDUCT OF THE MORMON TROOPS—LIEUTENANT COLONEL P. ST. GEORGE COOKE ARRIVES AND ASSUMES COMMAND—A WELCOME CHANGE—ANOTHER DETACHMENT OP SICK, ALSO THE LAUNDRESSES, SENT TO PUEBLO—SELECTING MEN TO CONTINUE THE JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA—REDUCING THE BAGGAGE—DIFFICULTIES OF THE 1,100 MILES JOURNEY AHEAD—POOR EQUIPMENT THEREFOR—LEAVE SANTA FE—ROADS OF HEAVY SAND—ON ONE-THIRD RATIONS—HARDSHIPS INCREASE—GALLED FEET AND GNAWING STOMACHS—MORE SICK MEN FOR PUEBLO—LEAVING THE LAST WAGONS—MULES AND OXEN IN A PACK TRAIN—IN AN UNKNOWN COUNTRY—HUNTING A PASS OVER THE MOUNTAINS—ALARM OF AN ENEMY—A BEAVER DAM—CROSSING THE RIO GRANDE DEL NORTE—GREAT SUFFERING AMONG THE TROOPS.

WHILE we were in Santa Fe, Colonel Sterling Price came in with his cavalry command, and soon the town prison was filled with them, so that it became necessary for a guard from the Mormon Battalion to be posted at the prison. I do not recall that any of our command was put into the prison, though it is possible one or two might have been, for a few of them got rather too much wine; but it was a very few who acted that way. There were many invalids of other commands left to garrison Santa Fe, and they caused considerable disturbance, many of them getting into prison.

It seems that word had gone ahead to the Mexican town that the Mormons were a very hard class of outlaws, consequently at first we were looked upon as "toughs" of the very worst kind. But when the people had an opportunity to see our superior conduct in contrast with that of the other troops, they realized the true situation, and male and female thronged our camp in friendly visit.

It was on October 13, 1846, that Lieutenant Colonel P. St. George Cooke assumed command of the Mormon Battalion, having been designated for that purpose, and by this proceeding we were liberated from the little tyrant Lieutenant Colonel A. J. Smith.

By order of Colonel Cooke, Captain James Brown of Company C took command of all the sick that were unable to continue the journey to California; also of most of the laundresses, and a few able-bodied men, with directions to go north to Pueblo, and join Captain Higgins. In order to determine who were not able to continue the march to California, we were drawn up in line, and the officers and Dr. Sanderson inspected the whole command. The doctor scrutinized every one of us, and when he said a man was not able to go, his name was added to Captain Brown's detachment, whether the man liked it or not; and when the doctor said a man could make the trip, that settled the matter. The operation was much like a cooper culling stave timber, or a butcher separating the lean from the fat sheep.

My desire was very strong to continue the overland journey, and when the doctor neared me, I braced up and tried to look brave and hardy. To the doctor's inquiry, "How do you feel?" my answer was, "First rate." He looked at me suspiciously and said, "You look d—d pale and weak," then passed on, and I was greatly relieved at having gone safely through the inspection.

In order No. 8, Colonel Cooke called the particular attention of the company commanders to the necessity of reducing baggage as much as possible; that means for transportation were very deficient; that the road was almost impracticable, much of it being in deep sand, and how soon we would have to abandon our wagons it was impossible to ascertain; that skillets and ovens could not be taken, and but one camp-kettle to each mess of ten men.

Colonel Cooke very properly and correctly pointed out that everything seemed to conspire to discourage the extraordinary undertaking of marching the battalion 1,100 miles, for the much greater part of the way through an unknown wilderness, without road or trail, and with a wagon train. He said the battalion was much worn by traveling on foot, marching from Nauvoo, Illinois; their clothing was very scant, there was no money to pay them, or clothing to issue; the mules were utterly broken down; the quartermaster's department was out of funds and its credit bad; animals were scarce, and those procured were inferior and deteriorating every hour from the lack of forage. All this made it necessary that such careful preparation as could be should be made in advance.

It can be easily seen from this statement that the condition and prospects of the battalion were not very encouraging; yet there were very few of the men who had the least desire to retrace their steps—they knew what they had passed through, but looking ahead they tried to hope for the best, realizing, just as they had been told, that the country through which they had to travel was an unknown region.

With the colonel's orders carried out, we got ready to move, and about the 21st of October we left Santa Fe and traveled six or eight miles to a stream called Agua Fria (cold water). Grass for animals was very short, the nights were very cold, and our road was in heavy sand almost from the start. Our advance was slow, for the best teams had been taken for extra service or express duties in other departments. Besides, there was added to our already overburdened animals the load of sacks, packsaddles, lashing-ropes, etc., necessary in the event of being compelled to abandon the wagons, so we would not be entirely without means of transportation. There was also the burden of sheep pelts and blankets to use under pack saddles, and as most of these were bought second-hand, they were well stocked with the insects commonly called "greybacks."

In a short time we drew near to the mountains, and the weather became colder. Having but one blanket each we began to use the pelts and saddle-blankets to splice out our scanty store of bedding. Thus we proceeded over sandy roads, through the towns and villages of Spaniards, Indians and Greasers—the surroundings presented being of such a sameness that the journey became very monotonous.

Soon after leaving Santa Fe our rations were reduced to one-third the regular amount allowed by law to the soldier. A detail of men was called as a substitute for mules, to move and to lighten the loads of the ammunition wagons. Each soldier was required to carry sixty-four rounds of cartridges that contained each a one-ounce ball, three buck-shot, and powder enough to send them where they should be, besides the heavy paper they were wrapped in, and extra flints for the firelock—about two hundred ounces added to the already overburdened soldier.

Now the soldier must wade the tributaries of the Rio Grande del Norte, sometimes waist deep and more, and is not allowed even to take off his shoes, or any of his wearing apparel. An officer, perched on his white mule on some point or eminence overlooking the whole command, with a hawk's eye for keen military experience, calls to this or that squad of men, with a horrid oath, as if they were brutes; often he curses the men until they long for a battle where perchance someone would remember the tyrant with an ounce ball and three buckshot. And yet, if that feeling were not quenched in the soldier's bosom it would not require an engagement with the enemy to accomplish the deed. But, praise God, that feeling quickly passed off as the men marched along, their clothes wet, and their thick soled cowhide army shoes partly filled with sand—the chafing and galling of the flesh without and the gnawing and grinding of the stomach within defied the mind to dwell upon any one subject for long at a time.

Is it any wonder that under these conditions fifty-five of our comrades wore down and collapsed so they had to go on the sick list and it became necessary for Lieutenant W. W. Willis to take command of that number of invalid soldiers, and join Captains Higgins and Brown at Pueblo? This company of sick and exhausted men left us, on their return, about the 10th or 12th of November.

About this time, the quartermaster was ordered to leave the remaining two heavy ox-wagons, while the company commanders were directed to reduce their tent-poles two-thirds; that is, to cast away all the upright poles and use muskets instead, and to put gores in the back part of the tents so they could shelter nine men in place of six; we were also to leave one-third of the campkettles.

Then came some sport in putting packs on a number of our mules and worn-out oxen. Some of these, which did not look as though they could travel a hundred miles further, when the crupper was put in place would rear up, wheel around, and kick in a most amusing style; nor did they cease until their strength failed them.

When this sport, if sport it may be called, was over we began to realize in a small degree the gravity of our situation. Our guides were "at sea," so to speak. We were in an enemy's land, with not a soul in camp who knew anything of the country. Men had been sent ahead to hunt a route for us to travel, and every time, on their return, they reported impassable barriers ahead—rough, high, steep mountains, without springs of water or creeks, or sandy plains, and barren deserts that it would be impossible to cross. In this dilemma we had to bear to the south, along the river, in hopes of finding a pass to the west.

One night, while camped near the Rio Grande del Norte, we heard a great noise as though a band of horses were crossing the river. This created quite an alarm, as there had been rumors of Mexicans revolting. For a short time it was thought it was Mexican cavalry crossing to attack us by night, but on the colonel making inquiries of the guides it was learned that the noise proceeded from beaver playing in the river. After watching and listening for a time, all settled down, contented that there was no enemy at hand.

On resuming our march next day, we passed through a grove of cottonwood trees, and saw where many of them had been cut down by the beaver. Some of the trees were two feet or more in diameter, had been cut off in long sections, and a surprisingly large dam had been constructed by the beaver across the river. This dam had caused to be formed a large pond, in which the beaver congregated at certain seasons, for sport. Thus the mystery of our midnight disturbance was solved to our satisfaction.

We passed along the sandy road to a large bend in the river, which Colonel Cooke decided was the place where we would cross the stream. He stationed himself on an abrupt point of rock, from which he could view the whole proceeding. Men were detailed from each company to follow the wagons through the river. In order to avoid a rocky ridge the stream had to be crossed twice within quarter of a mile. There were very heavy quicksands, and if the teams were allowed to stop one minute it was doubtful whether they could start again; consequently the precaution of having men close at hand was very important, though the average soldier did not understand the real reason for forcing him into the water without stripping off at least part of his raiment.

The crossing was made early in the day, and the water was very cold, as I had ample evidence, being one of those detailed to attend the wagons. Our comrades took our muskets over the point while we lifted at the wagons. As the water was waist deep, when the men would stoop to lift it would wet our clothing very nearly to the armpits; our shoes also were filled with sand.

Wet and cold, almost chilled, we continued our march through deep sands, pushing and pulling at the wagons till our clothing dried on our bodies, our shoes became so dry and hard that walking was very painful and difficult, and our feet became raw. If this had been all, we might have had less reason to complain; but when an irritated officer (not all the officers pursued such a reprehensible course, but a few of them did) swore at us as if we were brutes, when we were already burdened almost beyond endurance, it is no wonder there was an impulsive desire to retaliate. For my own part, my feelings never were so outraged, and the desire for revenge never ran so high and wild as then. But we cooled down, though our physical sufferings were not lessened; as we tramped on through the sands we became so weak it was almost impossible to keep our ankles from striking together as we walked, and our hard and dry shoetops would cut our ankles till the blood came.