YUBA COUNTY
GENEALOGICAL NUGGETS
Round Cape Horn :
voyage of the passenger-ship James W. Paige, from Maine to California in the year 1852;
BY J. LAMSON.
BANGOR:
PRESS OF O. F. & W. H. KNOWLES.
1878
CHAPTER XIII.
WE beat all day to the north against a head wind, and made but slow progress. We
strove to wear away the tedium of the day by looking at the land, and watching
the birds and the whales, of which last a considerable number were seen near the
ship, sometimes three or four together. We saw one of these monstrous animals
plunge down into the water, throwing his tail above the surface as he made his
plunge, and in a moment after, come up again with such force and rapidity as to
carry his ponderous body entirely into the air. Such an immense body as it came
down again into the water, could not fail to produce a great commotion. This act
of leaping out of the water seemed to be performed in a similar manner to that
of the sturgeon and smaller fish in our rivers and lakes. They frequently came
close to the ship, playing by its sides, plunging down on one side, and coming
up on the other. Among the birds, were a number I had not seen before, and
several Brown Pelicans.
The weather was cold, but after a dark, foggy morning, the sun came out, and the
sky continued unclouded during the day. This was very cheering, for we had had
scarcely an hour's sunshine during many weeks. What a contrast between the
Pacific Ocean as I find it, and the picture I had formed of it. I had even
associated it with unclouded skies and genial warmth, with mild breezes and
gently undulating waters. I had dreamed of it as "The Blue Summer Ocean," in
which Moore might have found "The Bright Little Isle," of which he so sweetly
sings in one of his sweetest songs. And there is many an isle scattered over
this great waste of waters, which would almost answer to Moore's description,
"Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers,
And the bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers,"
many a spot, which air, climate, soil, vegetable production, and beautiful
scenery have rendered as perfect elysiums, as nature, unassisted by art, can
produce.
But leaving Moore, poetry, sunshine, and every pleasant thought, let us once
more come back to the unwholesome realities of the bark. In addition to the many
luxuries with which our palates had been regaled during the voyage, we had for
several weeks past, been feasting on wormy bread--not myself, but my
fellow-passengers. My disgust at hard-bread had become so intense, that I could
not swallow it, good or bad. I think I must have starved had I been confined to
it. But being on good terms with the stewards and cooks, I had found means to
obtain an extra allowance of soft-tack, sufficient, for my urgent wants. Few of
the passengers were so fortunate. One of them, finding no escape from the wormy
hard-bread, strove to make a little sport out of it, by declaring that these
living vermin had imparted to the bread a peculiar lively flavor, which was very
palatable.
Then, again, as the supply of water we had taken in at Talcahuana, became
exhausted, we were obliged to resort to the old stock from Frankfort. Some of
this was so excessively filthy, and had acquired such a nauseous, such a putrid
taste and smell, that several of the passengers who were far from being troubled
with weak stomachs, actually vomited on drinking it. Even boiling it, and making
tea or coffee with it would not purify it. But we had better water on board, and
after many remonstrances and altercations with the captain, we got it.
September 7. We took a pilot on board in the morning. He brought a paper or two,
which we read with great interest, and it will be readily believed that we were
most eager in our inquiries for news.
Among other objects that attracted our attention as we approached the harbor,
was a great sand bank stretching a mile along the coast, and extending a
considerable distance inland. It was the largest bed of sand I had ever seen,
and was a very fair specimen of a miniature desert. Several large rocks
scattered along the coast presented a lively appearance, from the multitude of
sea birds that covered them; and one of them attracted our particular notice,
being perforated with a hole, sufficiently large, I thought, to admit the
passage of a boat through it.
We now ascertained that the place where we so narrowly escaped shipwreck, was
near Monterey, about sixty miles south of San Francisco.
We entered the harbor in the afternoon, and anchored about a mile from the city.
And thus ended the voyage of the James W. Paige, one hundred and fifty-eight
days from the day we set sail from Frankfort.
A large fleet of boats surrounded the ship as soon as we anchored, and I took
passage in one of them in company with several others, and after passing through
a wilderness of ships, steamers, and dismantled hulks, we landed in the city.
Our first business on landing was at the Post-Office, where I was made happy by
the reception of a package of letters informing me that all my friends were
alive and well.
We then sought a hotel, and, what we least expected in California, the first one
we tried was a temperance house, the "United States Temperance House." After tea
I took a walk with J. Tyler up Telegraph Hill, whence we had a fine view of the
city and harbor. On our return we went into several gambling-saloons. These were
large rooms, richly furnished, and supplied with large tables, loaded with heaps
of glittering gold and silver, to be staked in the various games, for which each
table was appropriated. Hundreds of people crowded into these saloons, many of
them with no other motive than mere curiosity, but others with the foolish hope
of filling their pockets from those tempting heaps of coins
A peculiar feature in the harbor of San Francisco at this time, and one that
struck me very forcibly on our first approach, was the great number of
dismantled ships that lay thickly scattered around it. These ships bad a very
old, ruinous, antiquated appearance, and at first sight, gave me an impression
that this new-born city had been inhabited for ages, and was now going to ruin.
Most of them have their lower masts standing, and supported by a few ropes and
chains. A large portion of them had been deserted by their crews on the first
outbreak of the gold excitement, and were recklessly left to their destruction,
while men find officers rushed blindly and wildly to the mines. These ship have,
however, been made subservient to a valuable purpose, having been converted into
store-ships by the merchants. Some of them had doors cut in their sides, with
short flights of steps from the water. Some were run aground near the shore, and
wharfs and streets were built around them, where, with houses erected on them
they could scarcely be distinguished from the surrounding stores.
September 8. I went on board the bark for my baggage. The captain, mate, and a
large portion of the Passengers were ashore. On going into the after house, my
eye accidentally caught a letter which was addressed to Captain Jackson,
expressing great thankfulness for his kind and gentlemanly treatment of the
passengers, and charging the blame of disputes and quarrels to the passengers.
It was written by Mr. Johnson and signed by Mr. Spring and several others, who
were well aware of its utter falsity. Knowing that it was intended to counteract
the numerous statements, which would be made at home prejudicial to Captain
Jackson, "I seized a pen and wrote a certificate, as near as I can remember, in
the following words:
Bark JAMES W. PAIGE, Sept. 8, 1852.
Whereas, a paper highly laudatory of Captain Jackson has been circulated for
signatures on board this bark, a regard for truth impels us to say, that the
conduct of Captain Jackson during the voyage just ended has been highly
arbitrary, ungentlemanly, insulting and abusive, and that even the female
passengers have, in many instances, been subjected to the grossest abuse from
him." During the few moments I was engaged in getting signatures to this paper,
Mr. Spring, who was standing near, overheard me read it. It gave him great
offense, and he remonstrated very strongly with me against the terms in which it
was expressed. He said I have virtually charged him and others with falsehood,
and urged me to withdraw or modify my statement. I refused to do either; and
this good man, with whom I had had the most friendly relations during the
voyage, now quivered with passion, while he intimated that a prosecution for
libel would be instituted
against me. Mr. Spring was liable to the charge of duplicity in signing that
paper, so full of flattery and falsehood; and his chief occupation during the
voyage was marked by a singularity, to say the least of it, not quite compatible
with a strict regard for truth. He had kept a journal of the voyage, and noted
the occurrences of each day much more carefully and minutely than I did. He
often read passages from his journal to the passengers, and it was well known
that his opinion of the captain coincided with that of a large majority of the
company. He had been several times chosen on committees to remonstrate with
Captain J. on our treatment and fare. But towards the latter part of the voyage
it was observed that a friendly understanding had grown up between him and the
captain, which gave rise to many conjectures as to the cause. But whatever may
have been the cause, the effect of this newly formed friendship, was a revision
of Mr. Spring's journal, or, more properly speaking, a rejection of it, and the
writing of a new one, in which every thing offensive to Captain Jackson, and all
occurrences of an unpleasant nature, in which the captain had acted a part, were
omitted, and only the more agreeable transactions and events were recorded; in
fact, changing the true and unvarnished record of the voyage, which he had made
with so much labor, for a smooth and sunny picture, which, though it might not
be chargeable with actual falsehood in its details, would, nevertheless, convey
to the reader a grossly false impression of the character of Captain Jackson,
and the annoyances and vexations attending the voyage. This revision of his
journal cost him much time, though not so much as might on first thought, have
been expected. So many occurrences were necessarily omitted, that for every
sheet he had at first written, a page now sufficed. His original journal, which
I would have given a dollar to possess, he threw overboard. His new one was to
be forwarded to a paper in Calais, Me., for publication.
I obtained twenty-five signatures to my paper in a few minutes, and then,
gathering up my baggage, I bade a final adieu to the James W. Paige with a
regret, which I think was remarkable only for its minuteness.
Our voyage is ended, but not quite our book. Many incidents of an unpleasant
nature, which had occurred on the voyage, have been omitted, and the omission
has somewhat shortened the book. The following extracts from the continuation of
my journal through a long sojourn on the Pacific Coast, are appended as a
substitute for the rejected passages.