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Memoirs of Three Civil War Generals, Complete

Part 18 out of 44

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It was nearly three o'clock a.m. before we were all mounted and
ready. I had a musket which I used for hunting. With this I led
off at a canter, followed by the others. About six miles out, by
the faint moon, I saw ahead of us in the sandy road some blue
coats, and, fearing lest they might resist or escape into the dense
bushes which lined the road, I halted and found with me Paymaster
Hill, Captain N. H. Davis, and Lieutenant John Hamilton. We waited
some time for the others, viz., Canby, Murray, Gibbs, and Sully, to
come up, but as they were not in sight we made a dash up the road
and captured six of the deserters, who were Germans, with heavy
knapsacks on, trudging along the deep, sandy road. They had not
expected pursuit, had not heard our horses, and were accordingly
easily taken. Finding myself the senior officer present, I ordered
Lieutenant Hamilton to search the men and then to march them back
to Monterey, suspecting, as was the fact, that the rest of our
party had taken a road that branched off a couple of miles back.
Daylight broke as we reached the Saunas River, twelve miles out,
and there the trail was broad and fresh leading directly out on the
Saunas Plain. This plain is about five miles wide, and then the
ground becomes somewhat broken. The trail continued very plain,
and I rode on at a gallop to where there was an old adobe-ranch on
the left of the road, with the head of a lagoon, or pond, close by.
I saw one or two of the soldiers getting water at the pond, and
others up near the house. I had the best horse and was
considerably ahead, but on looking back could see Hill and Davis
coming up behind at a gallop. I motioned to them to hurry forward,
and turned my horse across the head of the pond, knowing the ground
well, as it was a favorite place for shooting geese and ducks.
Approaching the house, I ordered the men who were outside to go in.
They did not know me personally, and exchanged glances, but I had
my musket cocked, and, as the two had seen Davis and Hill coming up
pretty fast, they obeyed. Dismounting, I found the house full of
deserters, and there was no escape for them. They naturally
supposed that I had a strong party with me, and when I ordered them
to "fall in" they obeyed from habit. By the time Hill and Davis
came up I had them formed in two ranks, the front rank facing
about, and I was taking away their bayonets, pistols, etc. We
disarmed them, destroying a musket and several pistols, and, on
counting them, we found that we three had taken eighteen, which,
added to the six first captured, made twenty-four. We made them
sling their knapsacks and begin their homeward march. It was near
night when we got back, so that these deserters had traveled nearly
forty miles since "tattoo" of the night before. The other party
had captured three, so that only one man had escaped. I doubt not
this prevented the desertion of the bulk of the Second Infantry
that spring, for at that time so demoralizing was the effect of the
gold-mines that everybody not in the military service justified
desertion, because a soldier, if free, could earn more money in a
day than he received per month. Not only did soldiers and sailors
desert, but captains and masters of ships actually abandoned their
vessels and cargoes to try their luck at the mines. Preachers and
professors forgot their creeds and took to trade, and even to
keeping gambling-houses. I remember that one of our regular
soldiers, named Reese, in deserting stole a favorite double-
barreled gun of mine, and when the orderly-sergeant of the company,
Carson, was going on furlough, I asked him when he came across
Reese to try and get my gun back. When he returned he told me that
he had found Reese and offered him a hundred dollars for my gun,
but Reese sent me word that he liked the gun, and would not take a
hundred dollars for it. Soldiers or sailors who could reach the
mines were universally shielded by the miners, so that it was next
to useless to attempt their recapture. In due season General
Persifer Smith, Gibbs, and I, with some hired packers, started back
for San Francisco, and soon after we transferred our headquarters
to Sonoma. About this time Major Joseph Hooker arrived from the
East--the regular adjutant-general of the division--relieved me,
and I became thereafter one of General Smith's regular

As there was very little to do, General Smith encouraged us to go
into any business that would enable us to make money. R. P.
Hammond, James Blair, and I, made a contract to survey for Colonel
J. D. Stevenson his newly-projected city of "New York of the
Pacific," situated at the month of the San Joaquin River. The
contract embraced, also, the making of soundings and the marking
out of a channel through Suisun Bay. We hired, in San Francisco, a
small metallic boat, with a sail, laid in some stores, and
proceeded to the United States ship Ohio, anchored at Saucelito,
where we borrowed a sailor-boy and lead-lines with which to sound
the channel. We sailed up to Benicia, and, at General Smith's
request, we surveyed and marked the line dividing the city of
Benicia from the government reserve. We then sounded the bay back
and forth, and staked out the best channel up Suisun Bay, from
which Blair made out sailing directions. We then made the
preliminary surveys of the city of "New York of the Pacific," all
of which were duly plotted; and for this work we each received from
Stevenson five hundred dollars and ten or fifteen lots. I sold
enough lots to make up another five hundred dollars, and let the
balance go; for the city of "New York of the Pacific" never came to
any thing. Indeed, cities at the time were being projected by
speculators all round the bay and all over the country.

While we were surveying at "New York of the Pacific," occurred one
of those little events that showed the force of the gold-fever. We
had a sailor-boy with us, about seventeen years old, who cooked our
meals and helped work the boat. Onshore, we had the sail spread so
as to shelter us against the wind and dew. One morning I awoke
about daylight, and looked out to see if our sailor-boy was at work
getting breakfast; but he was not at the fire at all. Getting up,
I discovered that he had converted a tule-bolsa into a sail boat,
and was sailing for the gold-mines. He was astride this bolsa,
with a small parcel of bread and meat done up in a piece of cloth;
another piece of cloth, such as we used for making our signal-
stations, he had fixed into a sail; and with a paddle he was
directing his precarious craft right out into the broad bay, to
follow the general direction of the schooners and boats that he
knew were ascending the Sacramento River. He was about a hundred
yards from the shore. I jerked up my gun, and hailed him to come
back. After a moment's hesitation, he let go his sheet and began
to paddle back. This bolsa was nothing but a bundle of tule, or
bullrush, bound together with grass-ropes in the shape of a cigar,
about ten feet long and about two feet through the butt. With
these the California Indiana cross streams of considerable size.
When he came ashore, I gave him a good overhauling for attempting
to desert, and put him to work getting breakfast. In due time we
returned him to his ship, the Ohio. Subsequently, I made a bargain
with Mr. Hartnell to survey his ranch at Cosnmnes River, Sacramento
Valley. Ord and a young citizen, named Seton, were associated with
me in this. I bought of Rodman M. Price a surveyor's compass,
chain, etc., and, in San Francisco, a small wagon and harness.
Availing ourselves of a schooner, chartered to carry Major Miller
and two companies of the Second Infantry from San Francisco to
Stockton, we got up to our destination at little cost. I recall an
occurrence that happened when the schooner was anchored in
Carquinez Straits, opposite the soldiers' camp on shore. We were
waiting for daylight and a fair wind; the schooner lay anchored at
an ebb-tide, and about daylight Ord and I had gone ashore for
something. Just as we were pulling off from shore, we heard the
loud shouts of the men, and saw them all running down toward the
water. Our attention thus drawn, we saw something swimming in the
water, and pulled toward it, thinking it a coyote; but we soon
recognized a large grizzly bear, swimming directly across the
channel. Not having any weapon, we hurriedly pulled for the
schooner, calling out, as we neared it, "A bear! a bear!" It so
happened that Major Miller was on deck, washing his face and hands.
He ran rapidly to the bow of the vessel, took the musket from the
hands of the sentinel, and fired at the bear, as he passed but a
short distance ahead of the schooner. The bear rose, made a growl
or howl, but continued his course. As we scrambled up the
port-aide to get our guns, the mate, with a crew, happened to have
a boat on the starboard-aide, and, armed only with a hatchet, they
pulled up alongside the bear, and the mate struck him in the head
with the hatchet. The bear turned, tried to get into the boat, but
the mate struck his claws with repeated blows, and made him let go.
After several passes with him, the mate actually killed the bear,
got a rope round him, and towed him alongside the schooner, where
he was hoisted on deck. The carcass weighed over six hundred
pounds. It was found that Major Miller's shot had struck the bear
in the lower jaw, and thus disabled him. Had it not been for this,
the bear would certainly have upset the boat and drowned all in it.
As it was, however, his meat served us a good turn in our trip up
to Stockton. At Stockton we disembarked our wagon, provisions, and
instruments. There I bought two fine mules at three hundred
dollars each, and we hitched up and started for the Coaumnes River.
About twelve miles off was the Mokelumne, a wide, bold stream, with
a canoe as a ferry-boat. We took our wagon to pieces, and ferried
it and its contents across, and then drove our mules into the
water. In crossing, one mule became entangled in the rope of the
other, and for a time we thought he was a gone mule; but at last he
revived and we hitched up. The mules were both pack-animals;
neither had ever before seen a wagon. Young Seton also was about
as green, and had never handled a mule. We put on the harness, and
began to hitch them in, when one of the mules turned his head, saw
the wagon, and started. We held on tight, but the beast did not
stop until he had shivered the tongue-pole into a dozen fragments.
The fact was, that Seton had hitched the traces before he had put
on the blind-bridle. There was considerable swearing done, but
that would not mend the pole. There was no place nearer than
Sutter's Fort to repair damages, so we were put to our wits' end.
We first sent back a mile or so, and bought a raw-hide. Gathering
up the fragments of the pole and cutting the hide into strips, we
finished it in the rudest manner. As long as the hide was green,
the pole was very shaky; but gradually the sun dried the hide,
tightened it, and the pole actually held for about a month. This
cost us nearly a day of delay; but, when damages were repaired, we
harnessed up again, and reached the crossing of the Cosumnes, where
our survey was to begin. The expediente, or title-papers, of the
ranch described it as containing nine or eleven leagues on the
Cosumnes, south side, and between the San Joaquin River and Sierra
Nevada Mountains. We began at the place where the road crosses the
Cosumnes, and laid down a line four miles south, perpendicular to
the general direction of the stream; then, surveying up the stream,
we marked each mile so as to admit of a subdivision of one mile by
four. The land was dry and very poor, with the exception of here
and there some small pieces of bottom land, the great bulk of the
bottom-land occurring on the north side of the stream. We
continued the survey up some twenty miles into the hills above the
mill of Dailor and Sheldon. It took about a month to make this
survey, which, when finished, was duly plotted; and for it we
received one-tenth of the land, or two subdivisions. Ord and I
took the land, and we paid Seton for his labor in cash. By the
sale of my share of the land, subsequently, I realized three
thousand dollars. After finishing Hartnell's survey, we crossed
over to Dailor's, and did some work for him at five hundred dollars
a day for the party. Having finished our work on the Cosumnes, we
proceeded to Sacramento, where Captain Sutter employed us to
connect the survey of Sacramento City, made by Lieutenant Warner,
and that of Sutterville, three miles below, which was then being
surveyed by Lieutenant J. W. Davidson, of the First Dragoons. At
Sutterville, the plateau of the Sacramento approached quite near
the river, and it would have made a better site for a town than the
low, submerged land where the city now stands; but it seems to be a
law of growth that all natural advantages are disregarded wherever
once business chooses a location. Old Sutter's embarcadero became
Sacramento City, simply because it was the first point used for
unloading boats for Sutter's Fort, just as the site for San
Francisco was fixed by the use of Yerba Buena as the hide-landing
for the Mission of "San Francisco de Asis."

I invested my earnings in this survey in three lots in Sacramento
City, on which I made a fair profit by a sale to one McNulty, of
Mansfield, Ohio. I only had a two months' leave of absence, during
which General Smith, his staff, and a retinue of civil friends,
were making a tour of the gold-mines, and hearing that he was en
route back to his headquarters at Sonoma, I knocked off my work,
sold my instruments, and left my wagon and mules with my cousin
Charley Hoyt, who had a store in Sacramento, and was on the point
of moving up to a ranch, for which he had bargained, on Bear Creek,
on which was afterward established Camp "Far West." He afterward
sold the mules, wagon, etc., for me, and on the whole I think I
cleared, by those two months' work, about six thousand dollars. I
then returned to headquarters at Sonoma, in time to attend my
fellow aide-de-camp Gibbs through a long and dangerous sickness,
during which he was on board a store-ship, guarded by Captain
George Johnson, who now resides in San Francisco. General Smith
had agreed that on the first good opportunity he would send me to
the United States as a bearer of dispatches, but this he could not
do until he had made the examination of Oregon, which was also in
his command. During the summer of 1849 there continued to pour
into California a perfect stream of people. Steamers came, and a
line was established from San Francisco to Sacramento, of which the
Senator was the pioneer, charging sixteen dollars a passage, and
actually coining money. Other boats were built, out of materials
which had either come around Cape Horn or were brought from the
Sandwich Islands. Wharves were built, houses were. springing up
as if by magic, and the Bay of San Francisco presented as busy a
scene of life as any part of the world. Major Allen, of the
Quartermaster's Department, who had come out as chief-quartermaster
of the division, was building a large warehouse at Benicia, with a
row of quarters, out of lumber at one hundred dollars per thousand
feet, and the work was done by men at sixteen dollars a day. I
have seen a detailed soldier, who got only his monthly pay of eight
dollars a month, and twenty cents a day for extra duty, nailing on
weather-boards and shingles, alongside a citizen who was paid
sixteen dollars a day. This was a real injustice, made the
soldiers discontented, and it was hardly to be wondered at that so
many deserted.

While the mass of people were busy at gold and in mammoth
speculations, a set of busy politicians were at work to secure the
prizes of civil government. Gwin and Fremont were there, and T.
Butler King, of Georgia, had come out from the East, scheming for
office. He staid with us at Sonoma, and was generally regarded as
the Government candidate for United States Senator. General Riley
as Governor, and Captain Halleck as Secretary of State, had issued
a proclamation for the election of a convention to frame a State
constitution. In due time the elections were held, and the
convention was assembled at Monterey. Dr. Semple was elected
president; and Gwin, Sutter, Halleck, Butler King, Sherwood,
Gilbert, Shannon, and others, were members. General Smith took no
part in this convention, but sent me down to watch the proceedings,
and report to him. The only subject of interest was the slavery
question. There were no slaves then in California, save a few who
had come out as servants, but the Southern people at that time
claimed their share of territory, out of that acquired by the
common labors of all sections of the Union in the war with Mexico.
Still, in California there was little feeling on the subject. I
never heard General Smith, who was a Louisianian, express any
opinion about it. Nor did Butler King, of Georgia, ever manifest
any particular interest in the matter. A committee was named to
draft a constitution, which in due time was reported, with the
usual clause, then known as the Wilmot Proviso, excluding slavery;
and during the debate which ensued very little opposition was made
to this clause, which was finally adopted by a large majority,
although the convention was made up in large part of men from our
Southern States. This matter of California being a free State,
afterward, in the national Congress, gave rise to angry debates,
which at one time threatened civil war. The result of the
convention was the election of State officers, and of the
Legislature which sat in San Jose in October and November, 1849,
and which elected Fremont and Gwin as the first United States
Senators in Congress from the Pacific coast.

Shortly after returning from Monterey, I was sent by General Smith
up to Sacramento City to instruct Lieutenants Warner and
Williamson, of the Engineers, to push their surveys of the Sierra
Nevada Mountains, for the purpose of ascertaining the possibility
of passing that range by a railroad, a subject that then elicited
universal interest. It was generally assumed that such a road
could not be made along any of the immigrant roads then in use, and
Warner's orders were to look farther north up the Feather River, or
some one of its tributaries. Warner was engaged in this survey
during the summer and fall of 1849, and had explored, to the very
end of Goose Lake, the source of Feather River. Then, leaving
Williamson with the baggage and part of the men, he took about ten
men and a first-rate guide, crossed the summit to the east, and had
turned south, having the range of mountains on his right hand, with
the intention of regaining his camp by another pass in the
mountain. The party was strung out, single file, with wide spaces
between, Warner ahead. He had just crossed a small valley and
ascended one of the spurs covered with sage-brush and rocks, when a
band of Indians rose up and poured in a shower of arrows. The mule
turned and ran back to the valley, where Warner fell off dead,
punctured by five arrows. The mule also died. The guide, who was
near to Warner, was mortally wounded; and one or two men had arrows
in their bodies, but recovered. The party gathered about Warner's
body, in sight of the Indians, who whooped and yelled, but did not
venture away from their cover of rocks. This party of men remained
there all day without burying the bodies, and at night, by a wide
circuit, passed the mountain, and reached Williamson's camp. The
news of Warner's death cast a gloom over all the old Californians,
who knew him well. He was a careful, prudent, and honest officer,
well qualified for his business, and extremely accurate in all his
work. He and I had been intimately associated during our four
years together in California, and I felt his loss deeply. The
season was then too far advanced to attempt to avenge his death,
and it was not until the next spring that a party was sent out to
gather up and bury his scattered bones.

As winter approached, the immigrants overland came pouring into
California, dusty and worn with their two thousand miles of weary
travel across the plains and mountains. Those who arrived in
October and November reported thousands still behind them, with
oxen perishing, and short of food. Appeals were made for help, and
General Smith resolved to attempt relief. Major Rucker, who had
come across with Pike. Graham's Battalion of Dragoons, had
exchanged with Major Fitzgerald, of the Quartermaster's Department,
and was detailed to conduct this relief. General Smith ordered him
to be supplied with one hundred thousand dollars out of the civil
fund, subject to his control, and with this to purchase at
Sacramento flour, bacon, etc., and to hire men and mules to send
out and meet the immigrants. Major Rucker fulfilled this duty
perfectly, sending out pack-trains loaded with food by the many
routes by which the immigrants were known to be approaching, went
out himself with one of these trains, and remained in the mountains
until the last immigrant had got in. No doubt this expedition
saved many a life which has since been most useful to the country.
I remained at Sacramento a good part of the fall of 1849,
recognizing among the immigrants many of my old personal friends--
John C. Fall, William King, Sam Stambaugh, Hugh Ewing, Hampton
Denman, etc. I got Rucker to give these last two employment along
with the train for the relief of the immigrants. They had proposed
to begin a ranch on my land on the Cosumnes, but afterward changed
their minds, and went out with Rucker.

While I was at Sacramento General Smith had gone on his
contemplated trip to Oregon, and promised that he would be back in
December, when he would send me home with dispatches. Accordingly,
as the winter and rainy season was at hand, I went to San
Francisco, and spent some time at the Presidio, waiting patiently
for General Smith's return. About Christmas a vessel arrived from
Oregon with the dispatches, and an order for me to deliver them in
person to General Winfield Scott, in New York City. General Smith
had sent them down, remaining in Oregon for a time. Of course I
was all ready, and others of our set were going home by the same
conveyance, viz., Rucker, Ord, A. J. Smith--some under orders, and
the others on leave. Wanting to see my old friends in Monterey, I
arranged for my passage in the steamer of January 1, 1850, paying
six hundred dollars for passage to New York, and went down to
Monterey by land, Rucker accompanying me. The weather was
unusually rainy, and all the plain about Santa Clara was under
water; but we reached Monterey in time. I again was welcomed by my
friends, Dona Augustias, Manuelita, and the family, and it was
resolved that I should take two of the boys home with me and put
them at Georgetown College for education, viz., Antonio and
Porfirio, thirteen and eleven years old. The dona gave me a bag of
gold-dust to pay for their passage and to deposit at the college.
On the 2d day of January punctually appeared the steamer Oregon.

We were all soon on board and off for home. At that time the
steamers touched at San Diego, Acapulco, and Panama. Our
passage down the coast was unusually pleasant. Arrived at
Panama, we hired mules and rode across to Gorgona, on the
Cruces River, where we hired a boat and paddled down to the
mouth of the river, off which lay the steamer Crescent City. It
usually took four days to cross the isthmus, every passenger taking
care of himself, and it was really funny to watch the efforts of
women and men unaccustomed to mules. It was an old song to us, and
the hike across was easy and interesting. In due time we were rowed
off to the Crescent City, rolling back and forth in the swell, and
we scrambled aboard by a "Jacob's ladder" from the stern. Some of
the women had to be hoisted aboard by lowering a tub from the end
of a boom; fun to us who looked on, but awkward enough to the poor
women, especially to a very fat one, who attracted much notice.
General Fremont, wife and child (Lillie) were passengers with us
down from San Francisco; but Mrs. Fremont not being well, they
remained over one trip at Panama.

Senator Gwin was one of our passengers, and went through to New
York. We reached New York about the close of January, after a safe
and pleasant trip. Our party, composed of Ord, A. J. Smith, and
Rucker, with the two boys, Antonio and Porfirio, put up at
Delmonico's, on Bowling Green; and, as soon as we had cleaned up
somewhat, I took a carriage, went to General Scott's office in
Ninth Street, delivered my dispatches, was ordered to dine with him
next day, and then went forth to hunt up my old friends and
relations, the Scotts, Hoyts, etc., etc.

On reaching New York, most of us had rough soldier's clothing, but
we soon got a new outfit, and I dined with General Scott's family,
Mrs. Scott being present, and also their son-in-law and daughter
(Colonel and Mrs. H. L. Scott). The general questioned me pretty
closely in regard to things on the Pacific coast, especially the
politics, and startled me with the assertion that "our country was
on the eve of a terrible civil war." He interested me by anecdotes
of my old army comrades in his recent battles around the city of
Mexico, and I felt deeply the fact that our country had passed
through a foreign war, that my comrades had fought great battles,
and yet I had not heard a hostile shot. Of course, I thought it
the last and only chance in my day, and that my career as a soldier
was at an end. After some four or five days spent in New York, I
was, by an order of General Scott, sent to Washington, to lay
before the Secretary of War (Crawford, of Georgia) the dispatches
which I had brought from California. On reaching Washington, I
found that Mr. Ewing was Secretary of the Interior, and I at once
became a member of his family. The family occupied the house of
Mr. Blair, on Pennsylvania Avenue, directly in front of the War
Department. I immediately repaired to the War Department, and
placed my dispatches in the hands of Mr. Crawford, who questioned
me somewhat about California, but seemed little interested in the
subject, except so far as it related to slavery and the routes
through Texas. I then went to call on the President at the White
House. I found Major Bliss, who had been my teacher in mathematics
at West Point, and was then General Taylor's son-in-law and private
secretary. He took me into the room, now used by the President's
private secretaries, where President Taylor was. I had never seen
him before, though I had served under him in Florida in 1840-'41,
and was most agreeably surprised at his fine personal appearance,
and his pleasant, easy manners. He received me with great
kindness, told me that Colonel Mason had mentioned my name with
praise, and that he would be pleased to do me any act of favor. We
were with him nearly an hour, talking about California generally,
and of his personal friends, Persifer Smith, Riley, Canby, and
others: Although General Scott was generally regarded by the army
as the most accomplished soldier of the Mexican War, yet General
Taylor had that blunt, honest, and stern character, that endeared
him to the masses of the people, and made him President. Bliss,
too, had gained a large fame by his marked skill and intelligence
as an adjutant-general and military adviser. His manner was very
unmilitary, and in his talk he stammered and hesitated, so as to
make an unfavorable impression on a stranger; but he was
wonderfully accurate and skillful with his pen, and his orders and
letters form a model of military precision and clearness.




Having returned from California in January, 1850, with dispatches
for the War Department, and having delivered them in person first
to General Scott in New York City, and afterward to the Secretary
of War (Crawford) in Washington City, I applied for and received a
leave of absence for six months. I first visited my mother, then
living at Mansfield, Ohio, and returned to Washington, where, on
the 1st day of May, 1850, I was married to Miss Ellen Boyle Ewing,
daughter of the Hon. Thomas Ewing, Secretary of the Interior. The
marriage ceremony was attended by a large and distinguished
company, embracing Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, T. H. Benton,
President Taylor, and all his cabinet. This occurred at the house
of Mr. Ewing, the same now owned and occupied by Mr. F. P. Blair,
senior, on Pennsylvania Avenue, opposite the War Department. We
made a wedding tour to Baltimore, New York, Niagara, and Ohio, and
returned to Washington by the 1st of July. General Taylor
participated in the celebration of the Fourth of July, a very hot
day, by hearing a long speech from the Hon. Henry S. Foote, at the
base of the Washington Monument. Returning from the celebration
much heated and fatigued, he partook too freely of his favorite
iced milk with cherries, and during that night was seized with a
severe colic, which by morning had quite prostrated him. It was
said that he sent for his son-in-law, Surgeon Wood, United States
Army, stationed in Baltimore, and declined medical assistance from
anybody else. Mr. Ewing visited him several times, and was
manifestly uneasy and anxious, as was also his son-in-law, Major
Bliss, then of the army, and his confidential secretary. He
rapidly grew worse, and died in about four days.

At that time there was a high state of political feeling pervading
the country, on account of the questions growing out of the new
Territories just acquired from Mexico by the war. Congress was in
session, and General Taylor's sudden death evidently created great
alarm. I was present in the Senate-gallery, and saw the oath of
office administered to the Vice-President, Mr. Fillmore, a man of
splendid physical proportions and commanding appearance; but on the
faces of Senators and people could easily be read the feelings of
doubt and uncertainty that prevailed. All knew that a change in
the cabinet and general policy was likely to result, but at the
time it was supposed that Mr. Fillmore, whose home was in Buffalo,
would be less liberal than General Taylor to the politicians of the
South, who feared, or pretended to fear, a crusade against slavery;
or, as was the political cry of the day, that slavery would be
prohibited in the Territories and in the places exclusively under
the jurisdiction of the United States. Events, however, proved the

I attended General Taylor's funeral as a sort of aide-de-camp, at
the request of the Adjutant-General of the army, Roger Jones, whose
brother, a militia-general, commanded the escort, composed of
militia and some regulars. Among the regulars I recall the names
of Captains John Sedgwick and W. F. Barry.

Hardly was General Taylor decently buried in the Congressional
Cemetery when the political struggle recommenced, and it became
manifest that Mr. Fillmore favored the general compromise then
known as Henry Clay's "Omnibus Bill," and that a general change of
cabinet would at once occur: Webster was to succeed Mr. Clayton as
Secretary of State, Corwin to succeed Mr. Meredith as Secretary of
the Treasury, and A. H. H. Stuart to succeed Mr. Ewing as Secretary
of the Interior. Mr. Ewing, however, was immediately appointed by
the Governor of the State to succeed Corwin in the Senate. These
changes made it necessary for Mr. Ewing to discontinue house-
keeping, and Mr. Corwin took his home and furniture off his hands.
I escorted the family out to their home in Lancaster, Ohio; but,
before this had occurred, some most interesting debates took place
in the Senate, which I regularly attended, and heard Clay, Benton,
Foots, King of Alabama, Dayton, and the many real orators of that
day. Mr. Calhoun was in his seat, but he was evidently approaching
his end, for he was pale and feeble in the extreme. I heard Mr.
Webster's last speech on the floor of the Senate, under
circumstances that warrant a description. It was publicly known
that he was to leave the Senate, and enter the new cabinet of Mr.
Fillmore, as his Secretary of State, and that prior to leaving he
was to make a great speech on the "Omnibus Bill." Resolved to hear
it, I went up to the Capitol on the day named, an hour or so
earlier than usual. The speech was to be delivered in the old
Senate-chamber, now used by the Supreme Court. The galleries were
much smaller than at present, and I found them full to overflowing,
with a dense crowd about the door, struggling to reach the stairs.
I could not get near, and then tried the reporters' gallery, but
found it equally crowded; so I feared I should lose the only
possible opportunity to hear Mr. Webster.

I had only a limited personal acquaintance with any of the
Senators, but had met Mr. Corwin quite often at Mr. Ewing's house,
and I also knew that he had been extremely friendly to my father in
his lifetime; so I ventured to send in to him my card, "W. T. S.,
First-Lieutenant, Third Artillery." He came to the door promptly,
when I said, "Mr. Corwin, I believe Mr. Webster is to speak
to-day." His answer was, "Yes, he has the floor at one o'clock."
I then added that I was extremely anxious to hear him. "Well,"
said he, "why don't you go into the gallery?" I explained that it
was full, and I had tried every access, but found all jammed with
people. "Well," said he, "what do you want of me?" I explained
that I would like him to take me on the floor of the Senate; that I
had often seen from the gallery persons on the floor, no better
entitled to it than I. He then asked in his quizzical way, "Are
you a foreign embassador?" "No." "Are you the Governor of a
State?" "No." "Are you a member of the other House?" "Certainly
not" "Have you ever had a vote of thanks by name?" "No!" "Well,
these are the only privileged members." I then told him he knew
well enough who I was, and that if he chose he could take me in.
He then said, "Have you any impudence?" I told him, "A reasonable
amount if occasion called for it." "Do you think you could become
so interested in my conversation as not to notice the door-keeper?"
(pointing to him). I told him that there was not the least doubt
of it, if he would tell me one of his funny stories. He then took
my arm, and led me a turn in the vestibule, talking about some
indifferent matter, but all the time directing my looks to his left
hand, toward which he was gesticulating with his right; and thus we
approached the door-keeper, who began asking me, "Foreign
ambassador? Governor of a State? Member of Congress?" etc.; but I
caught Corwin's eye, which said plainly, "Don't mind him, pay
attention to me," and in this way we entered the Senate-chamber by
a side-door. Once in, Corwin said, "Now you can take care of
yourself," and I thanked him cordially.

I found a seat close behind Mr. Webster, and near General Scott,
and heard the whole of the speech. It was heavy in the extreme,
and I confess that I was disappointed and tired long before it was
finished. No doubt the speech was full of fact and argument, but
it had none of the fire of oratory, or intensity of feeling, that
marked all of Mr. Clay's efforts.

Toward the end of July, as before stated, all the family went home
to Lancaster. Congress was still in session, and the bill adding
four captains to the Commissary Department had not passed, but was
reasonably certain to, and I was equally sure of being one of them.
At that time my name was on the muster-roll of (Light) Company C,
Third Artillery (Bragg's), stationed at Jefferson Barracks, near
St. Louis. But, as there was cholera at St. Louis, on application,
I was permitted to delay joining my company until September. Early
in that month, I proceeded to Cincinnati, and thence by steamboat
to St. Louis, and then to Jefferson Barracks, where I reported
for duty to Captain and Brevet-Colonel Braxton Bragg, commanding
(Light) Company C, Third Artillery. The other officers of the
company were First-Lieutenant James A. Hardie, and afterward
Haekaliah Brown. New horses had just been purchased for the
battery, and we were preparing for work, when the mail brought the
orders announcing the passage of the bill increasing the Commissary
Department by four captains, to which were promoted Captains
Shiras, Blair, Sherman, and Bowen. I was ordered to take post at
St. Louis, and to relieve Captain A. J. Smith, First Dragoons, who
had been acting in that capacity for some months. My commission
bore date September 27,1850. I proceeded forthwith to the city,
relieved Captain Smith, and entered on the discharge of the duties
of the office.

Colonel N. S. Clarke, Sixth Infantry, commanded the department;
Major D. C. Buell was adjutant-general, and Captain W. S. Hancock
was regimental quartermaster; Colonel Thomas Swords was the depot
quartermaster, and we had our offices in the same building, on the
corner of Washington Avenue and Second. Subsequently Major S. Van
Vliet relieved Colonel Swords. I remained at the Planters' House
until my family arrived, when we occupied a house on Chouteau
Avenue, near Twelfth.

During the spring and summer of 1851, Mr. Ewing and Mr. Henry
Stoddard, of Dayton, Ohio, a cousin of my father, were much in St.
Louis, on business connected with the estate of Major Amos
Stoddard, who was of the old army, as early as the beginning of
this century. He was stationed at the village of St. Louis at the
time of the Louisiana purchase, and when Lewis and Clarke made
their famous expedition across the continent to the Columbia River.
Major Stoddard at that early day had purchased a small farm back of
the village, of some Spaniard or Frenchman, but, as he was a
bachelor, and was killed at Fort Meigs, Ohio, during the War of
1812, the title was for many years lost sight of, and the farm was
covered over by other claims and by occupants. As St. Louis began
to grow, his brothers and sisters, and their descendants, concluded
to look up the property. After much and fruitless litigation, they
at last retained Mr. Stoddard, of Dayton, who in turn employed Mr.
Ewing, and these, after many years of labor, established the title,
and in the summer of 1851 they were put in possession by the United
States marshal. The ground was laid off, the city survey extended
over it, and the whole was sold in partition. I made some
purchases, and acquired an interest, which I have retained more or
less ever since.

We continued to reside in St. Louis throughout the year 1851, and
in the spring of 1852 I had occasion to visit Fort Leavenworth on
duty, partly to inspect a lot of cattle which a Mr. Gordon, of Cass
County, had contracted to deliver in New Mexico, to enable Colonel
Sumner to attempt his scheme of making the soldiers in New Mexico
self-supporting, by raising their own meat, and in a measure their
own vegetables. I found Fort Leavenworth then, as now, a most
beautiful spot, but in the midst of a wild Indian country. There
were no whites settled in what is now the State of Kansas. Weston,
in Missouri, was the great town, and speculation in town-lots there
and thereabout burnt the fingers of some of the army-officers, who
wanted to plant their scanty dollars in a fruitful soil. I rode on
horseback over to Gordon's farm, saw the cattle, concluded the
bargain, and returned by way of Independence, Missouri. At
Independence I found F. X. Aubrey, a noted man of that day, who had
just made a celebrated ride of six hundred miles in six days. That
spring the United States quartermaster, Major L. C. Easton, at Fort
Union, New Mexico, had occasion to send some message east by a
certain date, and contracted with Aubrey to carry it to the nearest
post-office (then Independence, Missouri), making his compensation
conditional on the time consumed. He was supplied with a good
horse, and an order on the outgoing trains for an exchange. Though
the whole route was infested with hostile Indians, and not a house
on it, Aubrey started alone with his rifle. He was fortunate in
meeting several outward-bound trains, and there, by made frequent
changes of horses, some four or five, and reached Independence in
six days, having hardly rested or slept the whole way. Of course,
he was extremely fatigued, and said there was an opinion among the
wild Indians that if a man "sleeps out his sleep," after such
extreme exhaustion, he will never awake; and, accordingly, he
instructed his landlord to wake him up after eight hours of sleep.
When aroused at last, he saw by the clock that he had been asleep
twenty hours, and he was dreadfully angry, threatened to murder his
landlord, who protested he had tried in every way to get him up,
but found it impossible, and had let him "sleep it out" Aubrey, in
describing his sensations to me, said he took it for granted he was
a dead man; but in fact he sustained no ill effects, and was off
again in a few days. I met him afterward often in California, and
always esteemed him one of the best samples of that bold race of
men who had grown up on the Plains, along with the Indians, in the
service of the fur companies. He was afterward, in 1856, killed by
R. C. Weightman, in a bar-room row, at Santa Fe, New Mexico, where
he had just arrived from California.

In going from Independence to Fort Leavenworth, I had to swim Milk
Creek, and sleep all night in a Shawnee camp. The next day I
crossed the Kaw or Kansas River in a ferry boat, maintained by the
blacksmith of the tribe, and reached the fort in the evening. At
that day the whole region was unsettled, where now exist many rich
counties, highly cultivated, embracing several cities of from ten
to forty thousand inhabitants. From Fort Leavenworth I returned by
steamboat to St. Louis.

In the summer of 1852, my family went to Lancaster, Ohio; but I
remained at my post. Late in the season, it was rumored that I was
to be transferred to New Orleans, and in due time I learned the
cause. During a part of the Mexican War, Major Seawell, of the
Seventh Infantry, had been acting commissary of subsistence at New
Orleans, then the great depot of supplies for the troops in Texas,
and of those operating beyond the Rio Grande. Commissaries at that
time were allowed to purchase in open market, and were not
restricted to advertising and awarding contracts to the lowest
bidders. It was reported that Major Seawell had purchased largely
of the house of Perry Seawell & Co., Mr. Seawell being a relative
of his. When he was relieved in his duties by Major Waggman, of
the regular Commissary Department, the latter found Perry Seawell &
Co. so prompt and satisfactory that he continued the patronage;
for which there was a good reason, because stores for the use of
the troops at remote posts had to be packed in a particular way, to
bear transportation in wagons, or even on pack-mules; and this firm
had made extraordinary preparations for this exclusive purpose.
Some time about 1849, a brother of Major Waggaman, who had been
clerk to Captain Casey, commissary of subsistence, at Tampa Bay,
Florida, was thrown out of office by the death of the captain, and
he naturally applied to his brother in New Orleans for employment;
and he, in turn, referred him to his friends, Messrs. Perry
Seawell & Co. These first employed him as a clerk, and afterward
admitted him as a partner. Thus it resulted, in fact, that Major
Waggaman was dealing largely, if not exclusively, with a firm of
which his brother was a partner.

One day, as General Twiggs was coming across Lake Pontchartrain, he
fell in with one of his old cronies, who was an extensive grocer.
This gentleman gradually led the conversation to the downward
tendency of the times since he and Twiggs were young, saying that,
in former years, all the merchants of New Orleans had a chance at
government patronage; but now, in order to sell to the army
commissary, one had to take a brother in as a partner. General
Twiggs resented this, but the merchant again affirmed it, and gave
names. As soon as General Twiggs reached his office, he instructed
his adjutant-general, Colonel Bliss--who told me this--to address a
categorical note of inquiry to Major Waggaman. The major very
frankly stated the facts as they had arisen, and insisted that the
firm of Perry Seawell & Co. had enjoyed a large patronage, but
deserved it richly by reason of their promptness, fairness, and
fidelity. The correspondence was sent to Washington, and the
result was, that Major Waggaman was ordered to St. Louis, and I was
ordered to New Orleans.

I went down to New Orleans in a steamboat in the month of
September, 1852, taking with me a clerk, and, on arrival, assumed
the office, in a bank-building facing Lafayette Square, in which
were the offices of all the army departments. General D. Twiggs
was in command of the department, with Colonel W. W. S. Bliss
(son-in-law of General Taylor) as his adjutant-general. Colonel A.
C. Myers was quartermaster, Captain John F. Reynolds aide-de-camp,
and Colonel A. J. Coffee paymaster. I took rooms at the St. Louis
Hotel, kept by a most excellent gentleman, Colonel Mudge.

Mr. Perry Seawell came to me in person, soliciting a continuance of
the custom which he had theretofore enjoyed; but I told him frankly
that a change was necessary, and I never saw or heard of him
afterward. I simply purchased in open market, arranged for the
proper packing of the stores, and had not the least difficulty in
supplying the troops and satisfying the head of the department in

About Christmas, I had notice that my family, consisting of Mrs.
Sherman, two children, and nurse, with my sister Fanny (now Mrs.
Moulton, of Cincinnati, Ohio), were en route for New Orleans by
steam-packet; so I hired a house on Magazine Street, and furnished
it. Almost at the moment of their arrival, also came from St.
Louis my personal friend Major Turner, with a parcel of documents,
which, on examination, proved to be articles of copartnership for a
bank in California under the title of "Lucas, Turner & Co.," in
which my name was embraced as a partner. Major Turner was, at the
time, actually en route for New York, to embark for San Francisco,
to inaugurate the bank, in the nature of a branch of the firm
already existing at St. Louis under the name of "Lucas & Symonds."
We discussed the matter very fully, and he left with me the papers
for reflection, and went on to New York and California.

Shortly after arrived James H. Lucas, Esq., the principal of the
banking-firm in St. Louis, a most honorable and wealthy gentleman.
He further explained the full programme of the branch in
California; that my name had been included at the insistance of
Major Turner, who was a man of family and property in St. Louis,
unwilling to remain long in San Francisco, and who wanted me to
succeed him there. He offered me a very tempting income, with an
interest that would accumulate and grow. He also disclosed to me
that, in establishing a branch in California, he was influenced by
the apparent prosperity of Page, Bacon & Co., and further that he
had received the principal data, on which he had founded the
scheme, from B. R. Nisbet, who was then a teller in the firm of
Page, Bacon & Co., of San Francisco; that he also was to be taken
in as a partner, and was fully competent to manage all the details
of the business; but, as Nisbet was comparatively young, Mr. Lucas
wanted me to reside in San Francisco permanently, as the head of
the firm. All these matters were fully discussed, and I agreed to
apply for a six months' leave of absence, go to San Francisco, see
for myself, and be governed by appearances there. I accordingly,
with General Twiggs's approval, applied to the adjutant-general for
a six months' leave, which was granted; and Captain John F.
Reynolds was named to perform my duties during my absence.

During the stay of my family in New Orleans, we enjoyed the society
of the families of General Twiggs, Colonel Myers, and Colonel
Bliss, as also of many citizens, among whom was the wife of Mr.
Day, sister to my brother-in-law, Judge Bartley. General Twiggs
was then one of the oldest officers of the army. His history
extended back to the War of 1812, and he had served in early days
with General Jackson in Florida and in the Creek campaigns. He had
fine powers of description, and often entertained us, at his
office, with accounts of his experiences in the earlier settlements
of the Southwest. Colonel Bliss had been General Taylor's adjutant
in the Mexican War, and was universally regarded as one of the most
finished and accomplished scholars in the army, and his wife was a
most agreeable and accomplished lady.

Late in February, I dispatched my family up to Ohio in the
steamboat Tecumseh (Captain Pearce); disposed of my house and
furniture; turned over to Major Reynolds the funds, property, and
records of the office; and took passage in a small steamer for
Nicaragua,, en route for California. We embarked early in March,
and in seven days reached Greytown, where we united with the
passengers from New York, and proceeded, by the Nicaragua River and
Lake, for the Pacific Ocean. The river was low, and the little
steam canal-boats, four in number, grounded often, so that the
passengers had to get into the water, to help them over the bare.
In all there were about six hundred passengers, of whom about sixty
were women and children. In four days we reached Castillo, where
there is a decided fall, passed by a short railway, and above this
fall we were transferred to a larger boat, which carried us up the
rest of the river, and across the beautiful lake Nicaragua, studded
with volcanic islands. Landing at Virgin Bay, we rode on mules
across to San Juan del Sur, where lay at anchor the propeller S. S.
Lewis (Captain Partridge, I think). Passengers were carried
through the surf by natives to small boats, and rowed off to the
Lewis. The weather was very hot, and quite a scramble followed for
state-rooms, especially for those on deck. I succeeded in reaching
the purser's office, got my ticket for a berth in one of the best
state-rooms on deck, and, just as I was turning from the window, a
lady who was a fellow-passenger from New Orleans, a Mrs. D-, called
to me to secure her and her lady friend berths on deck, saying that
those below were unendurable. I spoke to the purser, who, at the
moment perplexed by the crowd and clamor, answered: "I must put
their names down for the other two berths of your state-room; but,
as soon as the confusion is over, I will make some change whereby
you shall not suffer." As soon as these two women were assigned to
a state-room, they took possession, and I was left out. Their
names were recorded as "Captain Sherman and ladies." As soon as
things were quieted down I remonstrated with the purser, who at
last gave me a lower berth in another and larger state-room on
deck, with five others, so that my two ladies had the state-room
all to themselves. At every meal the steward would come to me, and
say, "Captain Sherman, will you bring your ladies to the table?"
and we had the best seats in the ship.

This continued throughout the voyage, and I assert that "my ladies"
were of the most modest and best-behaved in the ship; but some time
after we had reached San Francisco one of our fellow-passengers
came to me and inquired if I personally knew Mrs. D---, with flaxen
tresses, who sang so sweetly for us, and who had come out under my
especial escort. I replied I did not, more than the chance
acquaintance of the voyage, and what she herself had told me, viz.,
that she expected to meet her husband, who lived about Mokelumne
Hill. He then informed me that she was a woman of the town.
Society in California was then decidedly mixed. In due season the
steamship Lewis got under weigh. She was a wooden ship, long and
narrow, bark-rigged, and a propeller; very slow, moving not over
eight miles an hour. We stopped at Acapulco, and, in eighteen
days, passed in sight of Point Pinoa at Monterey, and at the speed
we were traveling expected to reach San Francisco at 4 A. M. the
next day. The cabin passengers, as was usual, bought of the
steward some champagne and cigars, and we had a sort of ovation for
the captain, purser, and surgeon of the ship, who were all very
clever fellows, though they had a slow and poor ship. Late at
night all the passengers went to bed, expecting to enter the port
at daylight. I did not undress, as I thought the captain could and
would run in at night, and I lay down with my clothes on. About 4
A. M. I was awakened by a bump and sort of grating of the vessel,
which I thought was our arrival at the wharf in San Francisco; but
instantly the ship struck heavily; the engines stopped, and the
running to and fro on deck showed that something was wrong. In a
moment I was out of my state-room, at the bulwark, holding fast to
a stanchion, and looking over the side at the white and seething
water caused by her sudden and violent stoppage. The sea was
comparatively smooth, the night pitch-dark, and the fog deep and
impenetrable; the ship would rise with the swell, and come down
with a bump and quiver that was decidedly unpleasant. Soon the
passengers were out of their rooms, undressed, calling for help,
and praying as though the ship were going to sink immediately. Of
course she could not sink, being already on the bottom, and the
only question was as to the strengh of hull to stand the bumping
and straining. Great confusion for a time prevailed, but soon I
realized that the captain had taken all proper precautions to
secure his boats, of which there were six at the davits. These are
the first things that steerage-passengers make for in case of
shipwreck, and right over my head I heard the captain's voice say
in a low tone, but quite decided: "Let go that falls, or, damn you,
I'll blow your head off!" This seemingly harsh language gave me
great comfort at the time, and on saying so to the captain
afterward, he explained that it was addressed to a passenger who
attempted to lower one of the boats. Guards, composed of the crew,
were soon posted to prevent any interference with the boats, and
the officers circulated among the passengers the report that there
was no immediate danger; that, fortunately, the sea was smooth;
that we were simply aground, and must quietly await daylight.

They advised the passengers to keep quiet, and the ladies and
children to dress and sit at the doors of their state-rooms, there
to await the advice and action of the officers of the ship, who
were perfectly cool and self-possessed. Meantime the ship was
working over a reef-for a time I feared she would break in two;
but, as the water gradually rose inside to a level with the sea
outside, the ship swung broadside to the swell, and all her keel
seemed to rest on the rock or sand. At no time did the sea break
over the deck--but the water below drove all the people up to the
main-deck and to the promenade-deck, and thus we remained for about
three hours, when daylight came; but there was a fog so thick that
nothing but water could be seen. The captain caused a boat to be
carefully lowered, put in her a trustworthy officer with a
boat-compass, and we saw her depart into the fog. During her
absence the ship's bell was kept tolling. Then the fires were all
out, the ship full of water, and gradually breaking up, wriggling
with every swell like a willow basket--the sea all round us full of
the floating fragments of her sheeting, twisted and torn into a
spongy condition. In less than an hour the boat returned, saying
that the beach was quite near, not more than a mile away, and had a
good place for landing. All the boats were then carefully lowered,
and manned by crews belonging to the ship; a piece of the gangway,
on the leeward side, was cut away, and all the women, and a few of
the worst-scared men, were lowered into the boats, which pulled for
shore. In a comparatively short time the boats returned, took new
loads, and the debarkation was afterward carried on quietly and
systematically. No baggage was allowed to go on shore except bags
or parcels carried in the hands of passengers. At times the fog
lifted so that we could see from the wreck the tops of the hills,
and the outline of the shore; and I remember sitting on, the upper
or hurricane deck with the captain, who had his maps and compass
before him, and was trying to make out where the ship was. I
thought I recognized the outline of the hills below the mission of
Dolores, and so stated to him; but he called my attention to the
fact that the general line of hills bore northwest, whereas the
coast south of San Francisco bears due north and south. He
therefore concluded that the ship had overrun her reckoning, and
was then to the north of San Francisco. He also explained that,
the passage up being longer than usual, viz., eighteen days, the
coal was short; that at the time the firemen were using some cut-up
spars along with the slack of coal, and that this fuel had made
more than usual steam, so that the ship must have glided along
faster than reckoned. This proved to be the actual case, for, in
fact, the steamship Lewis was wrecked April 9, 1853, on "Duckworth
Reef," Baulinas Bay, about eighteen miles above the entrance to San

The captain had sent ashore. the purser in the first boat, with
orders to work his way to the city as soon as possible, to report
the loss of his vessel, and to bring back help. I remained on the
wreck till among the last of the passengers, managing to get a can
of crackers and some sardines out of the submerged pantry, a thing
the rest of the passengers did not have, and then I went quietly
ashore in one of the boats. The passengers were all on the beach,
under a steep bluff; had built fires to dry their clothes, but had
seen no human being, and had no idea where they were. Taking along
with me a fellow-passenger, a young chap about eighteen years old,
I scrambled up the bluff, and walked back toward the hills, in
hopes to get a good view of some known object. It was then the
month of April, and the hills were covered with the beautiful
grasses and flowers of that season of the year. We soon found
horse paths and tracks, and following them we came upon a drove of
horses grazing at large, some of which had saddle-marks. At about
two miles from the beach we found a corral; and thence, following
one of the strongest-marked paths, in about a mile more we
descended into a valley, and, on turning a sharp point, reached a
board shanty, with a horse picketed near by. Four men were inside
eating a meal. I inquired if any of the Lewis's people had been
there; they did not seem to understand what I meant when I
explained to them that about three miles from them, and beyond the
old corral, the steamer Lewis was wrecked, and her passengers were
on the beach. I inquired where we were, and they answered, "At
Baulinas Creek;" that they were employed at a saw-mill just above,
and were engaged in shipping lumber to San Francisco; that a
schooner loaded with lumber was then about two miles down the
creek, waiting for the tide to get out, and doubtless if we would
walk down they would take us on board.

I wrote a few words back to the captain, telling him where he was,
and that I would hurry to the city to send him help. My companion
and I their went on down the creek, and soon descried the schooner
anchored out in the stream. On being hailed, a small boat came in
and took us on board. The "captain" willingly agreed for a small
sum to carry us down to San Francisco; and, as his whole crew
consisted of a small boy about twelve years old, we helped him to
get up his anchor and pole the schooner down the creek and out over
the bar on a high tide. This must have been about 2 P.M. Once over
the bar, the sails were hoisted, and we glided along rapidly with a
strong, fair, northwest wind. The fog had lifted, so we could see
the shores plainly, and the entrance to the bay. In a couple of
hours we were entering the bay, and running "wing-and-wing."
Outside the wind was simply the usual strong breeze; but, as it
passes through the head of the Golden Gate, it increases, and
there, too, we met a strong ebb-tide.

The schooner was loaded with lumber, much of which was on deck,
lashed down to ring bolts with raw-hide thongs. The captain was
steering, and I was reclining on the lumber, looking at the
familiar shore, as we approached Fort Point, when I heard a sort of
cry, and felt the schooner going over. As we got into the throat
of the "Heads," the force of the wind, meeting a strong ebb-tide,
drove the nose of the schooner under water; she dove like a duck,
went over on her side, and began, to drift out with the tide. I
found myself in the water, mixed up with pieces of plank and ropes;
struck out, swam round to the stern, got on the keel, and clambered
up on the side. Satisfied that she could not sink, by reason of
her cargo, I was not in the least alarmed, but thought two
shipwrecks in one day not a good beginning for a new, peaceful
career. Nobody was drowned, however; the captain and crew were
busy in securing such articles as were liable to float off, and I
looked out for some passing boat or vessel to pick us up. We were
drifting steadily out to sea, while I was signaling to a boat about
three miles off, toward Saucelito, and saw her tack and stand
toward us. I was busy watching this sail-boat, when I heard a
Yankee's voice, close behind, saying, "This is a nice mess you've
got yourselves into," and looking about I saw a man in a small
boat, who had seen us upset, and had rowed out to us from a
schooner anchored close under the fort. Some explanations were
made, and when the sail-boat coming from Saucelito was near enough
to be spoken to, and the captain had engaged her to help his
schooner, we bade him good by, and got the man in the small boat-to
carry us ashore, and land us at the foot of the bluff, just below
the fort. Once there, I was at home, and we footed it up to the
Presidio. Of the sentinel I inquired who was in command of the
post, and was answered, "Major Merchant." He was not then in, but
his adjutant, Lieutenant Gardner, was. I sent my card to him; he
came out, and was much surprised to find me covered with sand, and
dripping with water, a good specimen of a shipwrecked mariner. A
few words of explanation sufficed; horses were provided, and we
rode hastily into the city, reaching the office of the Nicaragua
Steamship Company (C. K. Garrison, agent) about dark, just as the
purser had arrived; by a totally different route. It was too late
to send relief that night, but by daylight next morning two
steamers were en route for and reached the place of wreck in time
to relieve the passengers and bring them, and most of the baggage.
I lost my carpet-bag, but saved my trunk. The Lewis went to pieces
the night after we got off, and, had there been an average sea
during the night of our shipwreck, none of us probably would have
escaped. That evening in San Francisco I hunted up Major Turner,
whom I found boarding, in company with General E. A. Hitchcock, at
a Mrs. Ross's, on Clay Street, near Powell. I took quarters with
them, and began to make my studies, with a view to a decision
whether it was best to undertake this new and untried scheme of
banking, or to return to New Orleans and hold on to what I then
had, a good army commission.

At the time of my arrival, San Francisco was an the top wave of
speculation and prosperity. Major Turner had rented at six hundred
dollars a month the office formerly used and then owned by Adams &
Co., on the east side of Montgomery Street, between Sacramento and
California Streets. B. R. Nisbet was the active partner, and James
Reilly the teller. Already the bank of Lucas, Turner & Co. was
established, and was engaged in selling bills of exchange,
receiving deposits, and loaning money at three per cent. a month.

Page, Bacon & Co., and Adams & Co., were in full blast across the
street, in Parrott's new granite building, and other bankers were
doing seemingly a prosperous business, among them Wells, Fargo &
Co.; Drexel, Sather & Church; Burgoyne & Co.; James King of Win.;
Sanders & Brenham; Davidson & Co.; Palmer, Cook & Co., and others.
Turner and I had rooms at Mrs. Ross's, and took our meals at
restaurants down-town, mostly at a Frenchman's named Martin, on the
southwest corner of Montgomery and California Streets. General
Hitchcock, of the army, commanding the Department of California,
usually messed with us; also a Captain Mason, and Lieutenant
Whiting, of the Engineer Corps. We soon secured a small share of
business, and became satisfied there was room for profit.
Everybody seemed to be making money fast; the city was being
rapidly extended and improved; people paid their three per cent. a
month interest without fail, and without deeming it excessive.
Turner, Nisbet, and I, daily discussed the prospects, and gradually
settled down to the conviction that with two hundred thousand
dollars capital, and a credit of fifty thousand dollars in New
York, we could build up a business that would help the St. Louis
house, and at the same time pay expenses in California, with a
reasonable profit. Of course, Turner never designed to remain long
in California, and I consented to go back to St. Louis, confer with
Mr. Lucas and Captain Simonds, agree upon further details, and then
return permanently.

I have no memoranda by me now by which to determine the fact, but
think I returned to New York in July, 1853, by the Nicaragua route,
and thence to St. Louis by way of Lancaster, Ohio, where my family
still was. Mr. Lucas promptly agreed to the terms proposed, and
further consented, on the expiration of the lease of the Adams &
Co. office, to erect a new banking-house in San Francisco, to cost
fifty thousand dollars. I then returned to Lancaster, explained to
Mr. Ewing and Mrs. Sherman all the details of our agreement, and,
meeting their approval, I sent to the Adjutant-General of the army
my letter of resignation, to take effect at the end of the six
months' leave, and the resignation was accepted, to take effect
September 6, 1853. Being then a citizen, I engaged a passage out
to California by the Nicaragua route, in the steamer leaving New
York September 20th, for myself and family, and accordingly
proceeded to New York, where I had a conference with Mr. Meigs,
cashier of the American Exchange Bank, and with Messrs. Wadsworth
& Sheldon, bankers, who were our New York correspondents; and on
the 20th embarked for San Juan del Norte, with the family, composed
of Mrs. Sherman, Lizzie, then less than a year old, and her nurse,
Mary Lynch. Our passage down was uneventful, and, on the boats up
the Nicaragua River, pretty much the same as before. On reaching
Virgin Bay, I engaged a native with three mules to carry us across
to the Pacific, and as usual the trip partook of the ludicrous--
Mrs. Sherman mounted on a donkey about as large as a Newfoundland
dog; Mary Lynch on another, trying to carry Lizzie on a pillow
before her, but her mule had a fashion of lying down, which scared
her, till I exchanged mules, and my California spurs kept that mule
on his legs. I carried Lizzie some time till she was fast asleep,
when I got our native man to carry her awhile. The child woke up,
and, finding herself in the hands of a dark-visaged man, she yelled
most lustily till I got her away. At the summit of the pass, there
was a clear-running brook, where we rested an hour, and bathed
Lizzie in its sweet waters. We then continued to the end of our
journey, and, without going to the tavern at San Juan del Sur, we
passed directly to the vessel, then at anchor about two miles out.
To reach her we engaged a native boat, which had to be kept outside
the surf. Mrs. Sherman was first taken in the arms of two stout
natives; Mary Lynch, carrying Lizzie, was carried by two others;
and I followed, mounted on the back of a strapping fellow, while
fifty or a hundred others were running to and fro, cackling like

Mary Lynch got scared at the surf, and began screaming like a fool,
when Lizzie became convulsed with fear, and one of the natives
rushed to her, caught her out of Mary's arms, and carried her
swiftly to Mrs. Sherman, who, by that time, was in the boat, but
Lizzie had fainted with fear, and for a long time sobbed as though
permanently injured. For years she showed symptoms that made us
believe she had never entirely recovered from the effects of the
scare. In due time we reached the steamer Sierra Nevada, and got a
good state-room. Our passage up the coast was pleasant enough; we
reached San Francisco; on the 15th of October, and took quarters at
an hotel on Stockton Street, near Broadway.

Major Turner remained till some time in November, when he also
departed for the East, leaving me and Nisbet to manage the bank. I
endeavored to make myself familiar with the business, but of course
Nisbet kept the books, and gave his personal attention to the
loans, discounts, and drafts, which yielded the profits. I soon
saw, however, that the three per cent. charged as premium on bills
of exchange was not all profit, but out of this had to come one and
a fourth to one and a half for freight, one and a third for
insurance, with some indefinite promise of a return premium; then,
the, cost of blanks, boxing of the bullion, etc., etc. Indeed, I
saw no margin for profit at all. Nisbet, however, who had long
been familiar with the business, insisted there was a profit, in
the fact that the gold-dust or bullion shipped was more valuable
than its cost to us. We, of course, had to remit bullion to meet
our bills on New York, and bought crude gold-dust, or bars refined
by Kellogg & Humbert or E. Justh & Co., for at that time the United
States Mint was not in operation. But, as the reports of our
shipments came back from New York, I discovered that I was right,
and Nisbet was wrong; and, although we could not help selling our
checks on New York and St. Louis at the same price as other
bankers, I discovered that, at all events, the exchange business in
San Francisco was rather a losing business than profitable. The
same as to loans. We could loan, at three per cent. a month, all
our own money, say two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and a
part of our deposit account. This latter account in California was
decidedly uncertain. The balance due depositors would run down to
a mere nominal sum on steamer-days, which were the 1st and 15th of
each month, and then would increase till the next steamer-day, so
that we could not make use of any reasonable part of this balance
for loans beyond the next steamer-day; or, in other words, we had
an expensive bank, with expensive clerks, and all the machinery for
taking care of other people's money for their benefit, without
corresponding profit. I also saw that loans were attended with
risk commensurate with the rate; nevertheless, I could not attempt
to reform the rules and customs established by others before me,
and had to drift along with the rest toward that Niagara that none
foresaw at the time.

Shortly after arriving out in 1853, we looked around for a site for
the new bank, and the only place then available on Montgomery
Street, the Wall Street of San Francisco, was a lot at the corner
of Jackson Street, facing Montgomery, with an alley on the north,
belonging to James Lick. The ground was sixty by sixty-two feet,
and I had to pay for it thirty-two thousand dollars. I then made a
contract with the builders, Keyser, & Brown, to erect a three-story
brick building, with finished basement, for about fifty thousand
dollars. This made eighty-two thousand instead of fifty thousand
dollars, but I thought Mr. Lucas could stand it and would approve,
which he did, though it resulted in loss to him. After the civil
war, he told me he had sold the building for forty thousand
dollars, about half its cost, but luckily gold was then at 250, so
that he could use the forty thousand dollars gold as the equivalent
of one hundred thousand dollars currency. The building was
erected; I gave it my personal supervision, and it was strongly and
thoroughly built, for I saw it two years ago, when several
earthquakes had made no impression on it; still, the choice of site
was unfortunate, for the city drifted in the opposite direction,
viz., toward Market Street. I then thought that all the heavy
business would remain toward the foot of Broadway and Jackson
Street, because there were the deepest water and best wharves, but
in this I made a mistake. Nevertheless, in the spring of 1854, the
new bank was finished, and we removed to it, paying rents
thereafter to our Mr. Lucas instead of to Adams & Co. A man named
Wright, during the same season, built a still finer building just
across the street from us; Pioche, Bayerque & Co. were already
established on another corner of Jackson Street, and the new
Metropolitan Theatre was in progress diagonally opposite us.
During the whole of 1854 our business steadily grew, our average
deposits going up to half a million, and our sales of exchange and
consequent shipment of bullion averaging two hundred thousand
dollars per steamer. I signed all bills of exchange, and insisted
on Nisbet consulting me on loans and discounts. Spite of every
caution, however, we lost occasionally by bad loans, and worse by
the steady depreciation of real estate. The city of San Francisco
was then extending her streets, sewering them, and planking them,
with three-inch lumber. In payment for the lumber and the work of
contractors, the city authorities paid scrip in even sums of one
hundred, five hundred, one thousand, and five thousand dollars.
These formed a favorite collateral for loans at from fifty to sixty
cents on the dollar, and no one doubted their ultimate value,
either by redemption or by being converted into city bonds. The
notes also of H. Meiggs, Neeley Thompson & Co., etc., lumber-
dealers, were favorite notes, for they paid their interest
promptly, and lodged large margins of these street-improvement
warrants as collateral. At that time, Meiggs was a prominent man,
lived in style in a large house on Broadway, was a member of the
City Council, and owned large saw-mills up the coast about
Mendocino. In him Nisbet had unbounded faith, but, for some
reason, I feared or mistrusted him, and remember that I cautioned
Nisbet not to extend his credit, but to gradually contract his
loans. On looking over our bills receivable, then about six
hundred thousand dollars, I found Meiggs, as principal or indorser,
owed us about eighty thousand dollars--all, however, secured by
city warrants; still, he kept bank accounts elsewhere, and was
generally a borrower. I instructed Nisbet to insist on his
reducing his line as the notes matured, and, as he found it
indelicate to speak to Meiggs, I instructed him to refer him to me;
accordingly, when, on the next steamer-day, Meiggs appealed at the
counter for a draft on Philadelphia, of about twenty thousand
dollars, for which he offered his note and collateral, he was
referred to me, and I explained to him that our draft was the same
as money; that he could have it for cash, but that we were already
in advance to him some seventy-five or eighty thousand dollars, and
that instead of increasing the amount I must insist on its
reduction. He inquired if I mistrusted his ability, etc. I
explained, certainly not, but that our duty was to assist those who
did all their business with us, and, as our means were necessarily
limited, I must restrict him to some reasonable sum, say, twenty-
five thousand dollars. Meiggs invited me to go with him to a rich
mercantile house on Clay Street, whose partners belonged in
Hamburg, and there, in the presence of the principals of the house,
he demonstrated, as clearly as a proposition in mathematics, that
his business at Mendocino was based on calculations that could not
fail. The bill of exchange which he wanted, he said would make the
last payment on a propeller already built in Philadelphia, which
would be sent to San Francisco, to tow into and out of port the
schooners and brigs that were bringing his lumber down the coast.
I admitted all he said, but renewed my determination to limit his
credit to twenty-five thousand dollars. The Hamburg firm then
agreed to accept for him the payment of all his debt to us, except
the twenty-five thousand dollars, payable in equal parts for the
next three steamer-days. Accordingly, Meiggs went back with me to
our bank, wrote his note for twenty-five thousand dollars, and
secured it by mortgage on real estate and city warrants, and
substituted the three acceptances of the Hamburg firm for the
overplus. I surrendered to him all his former notes, except one
for which he was indorser. The three acceptances duly matured and
were paid; one morning Meiggs and family were missing, and it was
discovered they had embarked in a sailing-vessel for South America.
This was the beginning of a series of failures in San Francisco,
that extended through the next two years. As soon as it was known
that Meiggs had fled, the town was full of rumors, and everybody
was running to and fro to secure his money. His debts amounted to
nearly a million dollars. The Hamburg house which, had been
humbugged, were heavy losers and failed, I think. I took
possession of Meiggs's dwelling-house and other property for which
I held his mortgage, and in the city warrants thought I had an
overplus; but it transpired that Meiggs, being in the City Council,
had issued various quantities of street scrip, which was adjudged a
forgery, though, beyond doubt, most of it, if not all, was properly
signed, but fraudulently issued. On this city scrip our bank must
have lost about ten thousand dollars. Meiggs subsequently turned
up in Chili, where again he rose to wealth and has paid much of his
San Francisco debts, but none to us. He is now in Peru, living
like a prince. With Meiggs fell all the lumber-dealers, and many
persons dealing in city scrip. Compared with others, our loss was
a trifle. In a short time things in San Francisco resumed their
wonted course, and we generally laughed at the escapade of Meiggs,
and the cursing of his deluded creditors.

Shortly after our arrival in San Francisco, I rented of a Mr.
Marryat, son of the English Captain Marryat, the author, a small
frame-house on Stockton Street, near Green, buying of him his
furniture, and we removed to it about December 1,1853. Close by,
around on Green Street, a man named Dickey was building two small
brick-houses, on ground which he had leased of Nicholson. I bought
one of these houses, subject to the ground-rent, and moved into it
as soon as finished. Lieutenant T. H. Stevens, of the United
States Navy, with his family, rented the other; we lived in this
house throughout the year 1854, and up to April 17, 1855.




During the winter of 1854-'55, I received frequent intimations in
my letters from the St. Louis house, that the bank of Page, Bacon &
Co. was in trouble, growing out of their relations to the Ohio &
Mississippi Railroad, to the contractors for building which they
had made large advances, to secure which they had been compelled to
take, as it were, an assignment of the contract itself, and finally
to assume all the liabilities of the contractors. Then they had to
borrow money in New York, and raise other money from time to time,
in the purchase of iron and materials for the road, and to pay the
hands. The firm in St. Louis and that in San Francisco were
different, having different partners, and the St. Louis house
naturally pressed the San Francisco firm to ship largely of
"gold-dust," which gave them a great name; also to keep as large a
balance as possible in New York to sustain their credit. Mr. Page
was a very wealthy man, but his wealth consisted mostly of land and
property in St. Louis. He was an old man, and a good one; had been
a baker, and knew little of banking as a business. This part of
his general business was managed exclusively by his son-in-law,
Henry D. Bacon, who was young, handsome, and generally popular.
How he was drawn into that affair of the Ohio & Mississippi road I
have no means of knowing, except by hearsay. Their business in New
York was done through the American Exchange Bank, and through
Duncan, Sherman & Co. As we were rival houses, the St. Louis
partners removed our account from the American Exchange Bank to the
Metropolitan Bank; and, as Wadsworth & Sheldon had failed, I was
instructed to deal in time bills, and in European exchange, with
Schnchardt & Gebhard, bankers in Nassau Street.

In California the house of Page, Bacon & Co. was composed of the
same partners as in St. Louis, with the addition of Henry Haight,
Judge Chambers, and young Frank Page. The latter had charge of the
"branch" in Sacramento. Haight was the real head-man, but he was
too fond of lager-beer to be in trusted with so large a business.
Beyond all comparison, Page, Bacon & Co. were the most prominent
bankers in California in 1853-'55. Though I had notice of danger
in that quarter, from our partners in St. Louis, nobody in
California doubted their wealth and stability. They must have had,
during that winter, an average deposit account of nearly two
million dollars, of which seven hundred thousand dollars was in
"certificates of deposit," the most stable of all accounts in a
bank. Thousands of miners invested their earnings in such
certificates, which they converted into drafts on New York, when
they were ready to go home or wanted to send their "pile" to their
families. Adams & Co. were next in order, because of their
numerous offices scattered throughout the mining country. A
gentleman named Haskell had been in charge of Adams & Co. in San
Francisco, but in the winter of 1854-'55 some changes were made,
and the banking department had been transferred to a magnificent
office in Halleck's new Metropolitan Block. James King of Wm. had
discontinued business on his own account, and been employed by
Adams & Co. as their cashier and banker, and Isaiah C. Wood had
succeeded Haskell in chief control of the express department.
Wells, Fargo & Co. were also bankers as well as expressmen, and
William J. Pardee was the resident partner.

As the mail-steamer came in on February 17, 1855, according to her
custom, she ran close to the Long Wharf (Meiggs's) on North Beach,
to throw ashore the express-parcels of news for speedy delivery.
Some passenger on deck called to a man of his acquaintance standing
on the wharf, that Page & Bacon had failed in New York. The news
spread like wild-fire, but soon it was met by the newspaper
accounts to the effect that some particular acceptances of Page &
Bacon, of St. Louis, in the hands of Duncan, Sherman & Co., in New
York, had gone to protest. All who had balances at Page, Bacon &
Co.'s, or held certificates of deposit, were more or less alarmed,
wanted to secure their money, and a general excitement pervaded the
whole community. Word was soon passed round that the matter
admitted of explanation, viz., that the two houses were distinct
and separate concerns, that every draft of the California house had
been paid in New York, and would continue to be paid. It was
expected that this assertion would quiet the fears of the
California creditors, but for the next three days there was a
steady "run" on that bank. Page, Bacon & Co. stood the first day's
run very well, and, as I afterward learned, paid out about six
hundred thousand dollars in gold coin. On the 20th of February
Henry Height came to our bank, to see what help we were willing to
give him; but I was out, and Nisbet could not answer positively for
the firm. Our condition was then very strong. The deposit account
was about six hundred thousand dollars, and we had in our vault
about five hundred thousand dollars in coin and bullion, besides an
equal amount of good bills receivable. Still I did not like to
weaken ourselves to help others; but in a most friendly spirit,
that night after bank-hours, I went down to Page, Bacon & Co., and
entered their office from the rear. I found in the cashier's room
Folsom, Parrott, Dewey and Payne, Captain Ritchie, Donohue, and
others, citizens and friends of the house, who had been called in
for consultation. Passing into the main office, where all the
book-keepers, tellers, etc., with gas-lights, were busy writing up
the day's work, I found Mr. Page, Henry Height, and Judge Chambers.
I spoke to Height, saying that I was sorry I had been out when he
called at our bank, and had now come to see him in the most
friendly spirit. Height had evidently been drinking, and said
abruptly that "all the banks would break," that "no bank could
instantly pay all its obligations," etc. I answered he could speak
for himself, but not for me; that I had come to offer to buy with
cash a fair proportion of his bullion, notes, and bills; but, if
they were going to fail, I would not be drawn in. Height's manner
was extremely offensive, but Mr. Page tried to smooth it over,
saying they had had a bad day's run, and could not answer for the
result till their books were written up.

I passed back again into the room where the before-named gentlemen
were discussing some paper which lay before them, and was going to
pass out, when Captain Folsom, who was an officer of the army, a
class-mate and intimate friend of mine, handed me the paper the
contents of which they were discussing. It was very short, and in
Henry Haight's handwriting, pretty much in these terms: "We, the
undersigned property-holders of San Francisco, having personally
examined the books, papers, etc., of Page, Bacon & Co., do hereby
certify that the house is solvent and able to pay all its debts,"
etc. Height had drawn up and asked them to sign this paper, with
the intention to publish it in the next morning's papers, for
effect. While I was talking with Captain Folsom, Height came into
the room to listen. I admitted that the effect of such a
publication would surely be good, and would probably stave off
immediate demand till their assets could be in part converted or
realized; but I naturally inquired of Folsom, "Have you personally
examined the accounts, as herein recited, and the assets, enough to
warrant your signature to this paper?" for, "thereby you in effect
become indorsers." Folsom said they had not, when Height turned
on me rudely and said, "Do you think the affairs of such a house as
Page, Bacon & Co. can be critically examined in an hour?" I
answered: "These gentlemen can do what they please, but they have
twelve hours before the bank will open on the morrow, and if the
ledger is written up" (as I believed it was or could be by
midnight), "they can (by counting the coin, bullion on hand, and
notes or stocks of immediate realization) approximate near enough
for them to indorse for the remainder." But Height pooh-poohed me,
and I left. Folsom followed me out, told me he could not afford to
imperil all he had, and asked my advice. I explained to him that
my partner Nisbet had been educated and trained in that very house
of Page, Bacon & Co.; that we kept our books exactly as they did;
that every day the ledger was written up, so that from it one could
see exactly how much actual money was due the depositors and
certificates; and then by counting the money in the vault,
estimating the bullion on hand, which, though not actual money,
could easily be converted into coin, and supplementing these
amounts by "bills receivable," they ought to arrive at an
approximate-result. After Folsom had left me, John Parrott also
stopped and talked with me to the same effect. Next morning I
looked out for the notice, but no such notice appeared in the
morning papers, and I afterward learned that, on Parrott and Folsom
demanding an actual count of the money in the vault, Haight angrily
refused unless they would accept his word for it, when one after
the other declined to sign his paper.

The run on Page, Bacon & Co. therefore continued throughout the
21st, and I expected all day to get an invitation to close our bank
for the next day, February 22, which we could have made a holiday
by concerted action; but each banker waited for Page, Bacon & Co.
to ask for it, and, no such circular coming, in the then state of
feeling no other banker was willing to take the initiative. On the
morning of February 22, 1855, everybody was startled by receiving a
small slip of paper, delivered at all the houses, on which was
printed a short notice that, for "want of coin," Page, Bacon & Co.
found it necessary to close their bank for a short time. Of
course, we all knew the consequences, and that every other bank in
San Francisco would be tried. During the 22d we all kept open, and
watched our depositors closely; but the day was generally observed
by the people as a holiday, and the firemen paraded the streets of
San Francisco in unusual strength. But, on writing up our books
that night, we found that our deposit account had diminished about
sixty-five thousand dollars. Still, there was no run on us, or any
other of the banks, that day; yet, observing little knots of men on
the street, discussing the state of the banks generally, and
overhearing Haight's expression quoted, that, in case of the
failure of Page, Bacon & Co., "all the other banks would break," I
deemed it prudent to make ready. For some days we had refused all
loans and renewals, and we tried, without, success, some of our
call-loans; but, like Hotspur's spirits, they would not come.

Our financial condition on that day (February 22, 1855) was: Due
depositors and demand certificates, five hundred and twenty
thousand dollars; to meet which, we had in the vault: coin, three
hundred and eighty thousand dollars; bullion, seventy-five thousand
dollars; and bills receivable, about six hundred thousand dollars.
Of these, at least one hundred thousand dollars were on demand,
with stock collaterals. Therefore, for the extent of our business,
we were stronger than the Bank of England, or any bank in New York

Before daylight next morning, our door-bell was rung, and I was
called down-stairs by E. Casserly, Esq. (an eminent lawyer of the
day, since United States Senator), who informed me he had just come
up from the office of Adams & Co., to tell me that their affairs
were in such condition that they would not open that morning at
all; and that this, added to the suspension of Page, Bacon & Co.,
announced the day before, would surely cause a general run on all
the banks. I informed him that I expected as much, and was
prepared for it.

In going down to the bank that morning, I found Montgomery Street
full; but, punctually to the minute, the bank opened, and in rushed
the crowd. As usual, the most noisy and clamorous were men and
women who held small certificates; still, others with larger
accounts were in the crowd, pushing forward for their balances.
All were promptly met and paid. Several gentlemen of my personal
acquaintance merely asked my word of honor that their money was
safe, and went away; others, who had large balances, and no
immediate use for coin, gladly accepted gold-bars, whereby we paid
out the seventy-five thousand dollars of bullion, relieving the
coin to that amount.

Meantime, rumors from the street came pouring in that Wright & Co.
had failed; then Wells, Fargo & Co.; then Palmer, Cook & Co., and
indeed all, or nearly all, the banks of the city; and I was told
that parties on the street were betting high, first, that we would
close our doors at eleven o'clock; then twelve, and so on; but we
did not, till the usual hour that night. We had paid every demand,
and still had a respectable amount left.

This run on the bank (the only one I ever experienced) presented
all the features, serious and comical, usual to such occasions. At
our counter happened that identical case, narrated of others, of
the Frenchman, who was nearly squeezed to death in getting to the
counter, and, when he received his money, did not know what to do
with it. "If you got the money, I no want him; but if you no got
him, I want it like the devil!"

Toward the close of the day, some of our customers deposited,
rather ostentatiously, small amounts, not aggregating more than
eight or ten thousand dollars. Book-keepers and tellers were kept
at work to write up the books; and these showed:

Due depositors and certificates, about one hundred and twenty
thousand dollars, for which remained of coin about fifty thousand
dollars. I resolved not to sleep until I had collected from those
owing the bank a part of their debts; for I was angry with them
that they had stood back and allowed the panic to fall on the banks
alone. Among these were Captain Folsom, who owed us twenty-five
thousand dollars, secured by a mortgage on the American Theatre and
Tehama Hotel; James Smiley, contractor for building the Custom-
House, who owed us two notes of twenty thousand and sixteen
thousand dollars, for which we held, as collateral, two acceptances
of the collector of the port, Major R. P. Hammond, for twenty
thousand dollars each; besides other private parties that I need
not name. The acceptances given to Smiley were for work done on
the Custom-House, but could not be paid until the work was actually
laid in the walls, and certified by Major Tower, United States
Engineers; but Smiley had an immense amount of granite, brick,
iron, etc., on the ground, in advance of construction, and these
acceptances were given him expressly that he might raise money
thereon for the payment of such materials.

Therefore, as soon as I got my dinner, I took my saddle-horse, and
rode to Captain Folsom's house, where I found him in great pain and
distress, mental and physical. He was sitting in a chair, and
bathing his head with a sponge. I explained to him the object of
my visit, and he said he had expected it, and had already sent his
agent, Van Winkle, down-town, with instructions to raise what money
he could at any cost; but he did not succeed in raising a cent. So
great was the shock to public confidence, that men slept on their
money, and would not loan it for ten per cent. a week, on any
security whatever--even on mint certificates, which were as good as
gold, and only required about ten days to be paid in coin by the
United States Mint. I then rode up to Hammond's house, on Rincon
Hill, and found him there. I explained to him exactly Smiley's
affairs, and only asked him to pay one of his acceptances. He
inquired, "Why not both?" I answered that was so much the better;
it would put me under still greater obligations. He then agreed to
meet me at our bank at 10 P.M. I sent word to others that I
demanded them to pay what they could on their paper, and then
returned to the bank, to meet Hammond. In due time, he came down
with Palmer (of Palmer, Cook & Co.), and there he met Smiley, who
was, of course, very anxious to retire his notes. We there
discussed the matter fully, when Hammond said, "Sherman, give me up
my two acceptances, and I will substitute therefor my check of
forty thousand dollars," with "the distinct understanding that, if
the money is not needed by you, it shall be returned to me, and the
transaction then to remain statu quo." To this there was a general
assent. Nisbet handed him his two acceptances, and he handed me
his check, signed as collector of the port, on Major J. R. Snyder,
United States Treasurer, for forty thousand dollars. I afterward
rode out, that night, to Major Snyder's house on North Beach, saw
him, and he agreed to meet me at 8 a.m. next day, at the United
States Mint, and to pay the check, so that I could have the money
before the bank opened. The next morning, as agreed on, we met,
and he paid me the check in two sealed bags of gold-coin, each
marked twenty thousand dollars, which I had carried to the bank,
but never opened them, or even broke the seals.

That morning our bank opened as usual, but there was no appearance
of a continuation of the "run;" on the contrary, money began to
come back on deposit, so that by night we had a considerable
increase, and this went on from day to day, till nearly the old
condition of things returned. After about three days, finding I
had no use for the money obtained on Hammond's check, I took the
identical two bags back to the cashier of the Custom-House, and
recovered the two acceptances which had been surrendered as
described; and Smiley's two notes were afterward paid in their due
course, out of the cash received on those identical acceptances.
But, years afterward, on settling with Hammond for the Custom-House
contract when completed, there was a difference, and Smiley sued
Lucas, Turner & Co. for money had and received for his benefit,
being the identical forty thousand dollars herein explained, but he
lost his case. Hammond, too, was afterward removed from office,
and indicted in part for this transaction. He was tried before the
United States Circuit Court, Judge McAlister presiding, for a
violation of the sub-Treasury Act, but was acquitted. Our bank,
having thus passed so well through the crisis, took at once a first
rank; but these bank failures had caused so many mercantile losses,
and had led to such an utter downfall in the value of real estate,
that everybody lost more or less money by bad debts, by
depreciation of stocks and collaterals, that became unsalable, if
not worthless.

About this time (viz., February, 1855) I had exchanged my house on
Green, street, with Mr. Sloat, for the half of a fifty-vara lot on
Harrison Street, between Fremont and First, on which there was a
small cottage, and I had contracted for the building of a new
frame-house thereon, at six thousand dollars. This house was
finished on the 9th of April, and my family moved into it at once.

For some time Mrs. Sherman had been anxious to go home to
Lancaster, Ohio, where we had left our daughter Minnie, with her
grandparents, and we arranged that S. M. Bowman, Esq., and wife,
should move into our new house and board us, viz., Lizzie, Willie
with the nurse Biddy, and myself, for a fair consideration. It so
happened that two of my personal friends, Messrs. Winters and
Cunningham of Marysville, and a young fellow named Eagan, now a
captain in the Commissary Department, were going East in the
steamer of the middle of April, and that Mr.. William H.
Aspinwall, of New York, and Mr. Chauncey, of Philadelphia, were
also going back; and they all offered to look to the personal
comfort of Mrs. Sherman on the voyage. They took passage in the
steamer Golden Age (Commodore Watkins), which sailed on April 17,
1855. Their passage down the coast was very pleasant till within a
day's distance of Panama, when one bright moonlit night, April
29th, the ship, running at full speed, between the Islands Quibo
and Quicara, struck on a sunken reef, tore out a streak in her
bottom, and at once began to fill with water. Fortunately she did
not sink fast, but swung off into deep water, and Commodore Watkins
happening to be on deck at the moment, walking with Mr. Aspinwall,
learning that the water was rushing in with great rapidity, gave
orders for a full head of steam, and turned the vessel's bow
straight for the Island Quicara. The water rose rapidly in the
hold, the passengers were all assembled, fearful of going down, the
fires were out, and the last revolution of the wheels made, when
her bow touched gently on the beach, and the vessel's stern sank in
deep water. Lines were got out, and the ship held in an upright
position, so that the passengers were safe, and but little
incommoded. I have often heard Mrs. Sherman tell of the boy Eagan,
then about fourteen years old, coming to her state-room, and
telling to her not to be afraid, as he was a good swimmer; but on
coming out into the cabin, partially dressed, she felt more
confidence in the cool manner, bearing, and greater strength of Mr.
Winters. There must have been nearly a thousand souls on board at
the time, few of whom could have been saved had the steamer gone
down in mid-channel, which surely would have resulted, had not
Commodore Watkins been on deck, or had he been less prompt in his
determination to beach his ship. A sailboat was dispatched toward
Panama, which luckily met the steamer John T. Stephens, just coming
out of the bay, loaded with about a thousand passengers bound for
San Francisco, and she at once proceeded to the relief of the
Golden Age. Her passengers were transferred in small boats to the
Stephens, which vessel, with her two thousand people crowded
together with hardly standing-room, returned to Panama, whence the
passengers for the East proceeded to their destination without
further delay. Luckily for Mrs. Sherman, Purser Goddard, an old
Ohio friend of ours, was on the Stephens, and most kindly gave up
his own room to her, and such lady friends as she included in her
party. The Golden Age was afterward partially repaired at Quicara,
pumped out, and steamed to Panama, when, after further repairs, she
resumed her place in the line. I think she is still in existence,
but Commodore Watkins afterward lost his life in China, by falling
down a hatchway.

Mrs. Sherman returned in the latter part of November of the same
year, when Mr. and Mrs. Bowman, who meantime had bought a lot next
to us and erected a house thereon, removed to it, and we thus
continued close neighbors and friends until we left the country for
good in 1857.

During the summer of 1856, in San Francisco, occurred one of those
unhappy events, too common to new countries, in which I became
involved in spite of myself.

William Neely Johnson was Governor of California, and resided at
Sacramento City; General John E. Wool commanded the Department of
California, having succeeded General Hitchcock, and had his
headquarters at Benicia; and a Mr. Van Ness was mayor of the city.
Politics had become a regular and profitable business, and
politicians were more than suspected of being corrupt. It was
reported and currently believed that the sheriff (Scannell) had
been required to pay the Democratic Central Committee a hundred
thousand dollars for his nomination, which was equivalent to an
election, for an office of the nominal salary of twelve thousand
dollars a year for four years. In the election all sorts of
dishonesty were charged and believed, especially of "ballot-box
stuffing," and too generally the better classes avoided the
elections and dodged jury-duty, so that the affairs of the city
government necessarily passed into the hands of a low set of
professional politicians. Among them was a man named James Casey,
who edited a small paper, the printing office of which was in a
room on the third floor of our banking office. I hardly knew him
by sight, and rarely if ever saw his paper; but one day Mr. Sather,
of the excellent banking firm of Drexel, Sather & Church, came to
me, and called my attention to an article in Casey's paper so full
of falsehood and malice, that we construed it as an effort to
black-mail the banks generally. At that time we were all laboring
to restore confidence, which had been so rudely shaken by the
panic, and I went up-stairs, found Casey, and pointed out to him
the objectionable nature of his article, told him plainly that I
could not tolerate his attempt to print and circulate slanders in
our building, and, if he repeated it, I would cause him and his
press to be thrown out of the windows. He took the hint and moved
to more friendly quarters. I mention this fact, to show my
estimate of the man, who became a figure in the drama I am about to
describe. James King of Wm., as before explained, was in 1853 a
banker on his own account, but some time in 1854 he had closed out
his business, and engaged with Adams & Co. as cashier. When this
firm failed, he, in common with all the employees, was thrown out
of employment, and had to look around for something else. He
settled down to the publication of an evening paper, called the
Bulletin, and, being a man of fine manners and address, he at once
constituted himself the champion of society against the public and
private characters whom he saw fit to arraign.

As might have been expected, this soon brought him into the usual
newspaper war with other editors, and especially with Casey, and
epithets a la "Eatanswill" were soon bandying back and forth
between them. One evening of May, 1856, King published, in the
Bulletin, copies of papers procured from New York, to show that
Casey had once been sentenced to the State penitentiary at Sing
Sing. Casey took mortal offense, and called at the Bulletin
office, on the corner of Montgomery and Merchant Streets, where he
found King, and violent words passed between them, resulting in
Casey giving King notice that he would shoot him on sight. King
remained in his office till about 5 or 6 p.m., when he started
toward his home on Stockton Street, and, as he neared the corner of
Washington, Casey approached him from the opposite direction,
called to him, and began firing. King had on a short cloak, and in
his breast-pocket a small pistol, which he did not use. One of
Casey's shots struck him high up in the breast, from which he
reeled, was caught by some passing friend, and carried into the
express-office on the corner, where he was laid on the counter; and
a surgeon sent for. Casey escaped up Washington Street, went to
the City Hall, and delivered himself to the sheriff (Scannell), who
conveyed him to jail and locked him in a cell. Meantime, the news
spread like wildfire, and all the city was in commotion, for grog
was very popular. Nisbet, who boarded with us on Harrison Street,
had been delayed at the bank later than usual, so that he happened
to be near at the time, and, when he came out to dinner, he brought
me the news of this affair, and said that there was every
appearance of a riot down-town that night. This occurred toward
the evening of May 14, 1856.

It so happened that, on the urgent solicitation of Van Winkle and
of Governor Johnson; I had only a few days before agreed to accept
the commission of major-general of the Second Division of Militia,
embracing San Francisco. I had received the commission, but had
not as yet formally accepted it, or even put myself in
communication with the volunteer companies of the city. Of these,
at that moment of time, there was a company of artillery with four
guns, commanded by a Captain Johns, formerly of the army, and two
or three uniformed companies of infantry. After dinner I went down
town to see what was going on; found that King had been removed to
a room in the Metropolitan Block; that his life was in great peril;
that Casey was safe in jail, and the sheriff had called to his
assistance a posse of the city police, some citizens, and one of
the militia companies. The people were gathered in groups on the
streets, and the words "Vigilance Committee" were freely spoken,
but I saw no signs of immediate violence. The next morning, I
again went to the jail, and found all things quiet, but the militia
had withdrawn. I then went to the City Hall, saw the mayor, Van
Ness, and some of the city officials, agreed to do what I could to
maintain order with such militia as were on hand, and then formally
accepted the commission, and took the "oath."

In 1851 (when I was not in California) there had been a Vigilance
Committee, and it was understood that its organization still
existed. All the newspapers took ground in favor of the Vigilance
Committee, except the Herald (John Nugent, editor), and nearly all
the best people favored that means of redress. I could see they
were organizing, hiring rendezvous, collecting arms, etc., without
concealment. It was soon manifest that the companies of volunteers
would go with the "committee," and that the public authorities
could not rely on them for aid or defense. Still, there were a
good many citizens who contended that, if the civil authorities
were properly sustained by the people at large, they could and
would execute the law. But the papers inflamed the public mind,
and the controversy spread to the country. About the third day
after the shooting of King, Governor Johnson telegraphed me that he
would be down in the evening boat, and asked me to meet him on
arrival for consultation. I got C. H. Garrison to go with me, and
we met the Governor and his brother on the wharf, and walked up to
the International Hotel on Jackson Street, above Montgomery. We
discussed the state of affairs fully; and Johnson, on learning that
his particular friend, William T. Coleman, was the president of the
Vigilance Committee, proposed to go and see him. En route we
stopped at King's room, ascertained that he was slowly sinking, and
could not live long; and then near midnight we walked to the
Turnverein Hall, where the committee was known to be sitting in
consultation. This hall was on Bush Street, at about the
intersection of Stockton. It was all lighted up within, but the
door was locked. The Governor knocked at the door, and on inquiry
from inside "Who's there?"--gave his name. After some delay we
were admitted into a sort of vestibule, beyond which was a large
hall, and we could hear the suppressed voices of a multitude. We
were shown into a bar-room to the right, when the Governor asked to
see Coleman. The man left us, went into the main hall, and soon
returned with Coleman, who was pale and agitated. After shaking
hands all round, the Governor said, "Coleman, what the devil is the
matter here?" Coleman said, "Governor, it is time this shooting on
our streets should stop." The Governor replied, "I agree with you
perfectly, and have come down, from Sacramento to assist." Coleman
rejoined that "the people were tired of it, and had no faith in the
officers of the law." A general conversation then followed, in
which it was admitted that King would die, and that Casey must be
executed; but the manner of execution was the thing to be settled,
Coleman contending that the people would do it without trusting the
courts or the sheriff. It so happened that at that time Judge
Norton was on the bench of the court having jurisdiction, and he
was universally recognized as an able and upright man, whom no one
could or did mistrust; and it also happened that a grand-jury was
then in session. Johnson argued that the time had passed in
California for mobs and vigilance committees, and said if Coleman
and associates would use their influence to support the law, he
(the Governor) would undertake that, as soon as King died, the
grand-jury should indict, that Judge Norton would try the murderer,
and the whole proceeding should be as speedy as decency would
allow. Then Coleman said "the people had no confidence in
Scannell, the sheriff," who was, he said, in collusion with the
rowdy element of San Francisco. Johnson then offered to be
personally responsible that Casey should be safely guarded, and
should be forthcoming for trial and execution at the proper time.
I remember very well Johnson's assertion that he had no right to
make these stipulations, and maybe no power to fulfill them; but he
did it to save the city and state from the disgrace of a mob.
Coleman disclaimed that the vigilance organization was a "mob,"
admitted that the proposition of the Governor was fair, and all he
or any one should ask; and added, if we would wait awhile, he would
submit it to the council, and bring back an answer.

We waited nearly an hour, and could hear the hum of voices
in the hall, but no words, when Coleman came back, accompanied by a
committee, of which I think the two brothers Arrington, Thomas
Smiley the auctioneer, Seymour, Truett, and others, were members.
The whole conversation was gone over again, and the Governor's
proposition was positively agreed to, with this further condition,
that the Vigilance Committee should send into the jail a small
force of their own men, to make certain that Casey should not be
carried off or allowed to escape.

The Governor, his brother William, Garrison, and I, then went up to
the jail, where we found the sheriff and his posse comitatus of
police and citizens. These were styled the "Law-and-Order party,"
and some of them took offense that the Governor should have held
communication with the "damned rebels," and several of them left
the jail; but the sheriff seemed to agree with the Governor that
what he had done was right and best; and, while we were there, some
eight or ten armed men arrived from the Vigilance Committee, and
were received by the sheriff (Scannell) as a part of his regular

The Governor then, near daylight, went to his hotel, and I to my
house for a short sleep. Next day I was at the bank, as usual,
when, about noon the Governor called, and asked me to walk with him
down-street He said he had just received a message from the
Vigilance Committee to the effect that they were not bound by
Coleman's promise not to do any thing till the regular trial by
jury should be had, etc. He was with reason furious, and asked me
to go with him to Truett's store, over which the Executive
Committee was said to be in session. We were admitted to a
front-room up-stairs, and heard voices in the back-room. The
Governor inquired for Coleman, but he was not forthcoming. Another
of the committee, Seymour, met us, denied in toto the promise of
the night before, and the Governor openly accused him of treachery
and falsehood.

The quarrel became public, and the newspapers took it up, both
parties turning on the Governor; one, the Vigilantes, denying the
promise made by Coleman, their president; and the other, the
"Law-and-Order party," refusing any farther assistance, because
Johnson had stooped to make terms with rebels. At all events, he
was powerless, and had to let matters drift to a conclusion.

King died about Friday, May 20th, and the funeral was appointed for
the next Sunday. Early on that day the Governor sent for me at my
house. I found him on the roof of the International, from which we
looked down on the whole city, and more especially the face of
Telegraph Hill, which was already covered with a crowd of people,
while others were moving toward the jail on Broadway. Parties of
armed men, in good order, were marching by platoons in the same
direction; and formed in line along Broadway, facing the jail-door.
Soon a small party was seen to advance to this door, and knock; a
parley ensued, the doors were opened, and Casey was led out. In a
few minutes another prisoner was brought out, who, proved to be
Cora, a man who had once been tried for killing Richardson, the
United States Marshal, when the jury disagreed, and he was awaiting
a new trial. These prisoners were placed in carriages, and
escorted by the armed force down to the rooms of the Vigilance
Committee, through the principal streets of the city. The day was
exceedingly beautiful, and the whole proceeding was orderly in the
extreme. I was under the impression that Casey and Cora were
hanged that same Sunday, but was probably in error; but in a very
few days they were hanged by the neck--dead--suspended from beams
projecting from the windows of the committee's rooms, without other
trial than could be given in secret, and by night.

We all thought the matter had ended there, and accordingly the
Governor returned to Sacramento in disgust, and I went about my
business. But it soon became manifest that the Vigilance Committee
had no intention to surrender the power thus usurped. They took a
building on Clay Street, near Front, fortified it, employed guards
and armed sentinels, sat in midnight council, issued writs of
arrest and banishment, and utterly ignored all authority but their
own. A good many men were banished and forced to leave the
country, but they were of that class we could well spare. Yankee
Sullivan, a prisoner in their custody, committed suicide, and a
feeling of general insecurity pervaded the city. Business was
deranged; and the Bulletin, then under control of Tom King, a
brother of James, poured out its abuse on some of our best men, as
well as the worst. Governor Johnson, being again appealed to,
concluded to go to work regularly, and telegraphed me about the 1st
of June to meet him at General Wool's headquarters at Benicia that
night. I went up, and we met at the hotel where General Wool was
boarding. Johnson had with him his Secretary of State. We
discussed the state of the country generally, and I had agreed that
if Wool would give us arms and ammunition out of the United States
Arsenal at Benicia, and if Commodore Farragat, of the navy,
commanding the navy-yard on Mare Island, would give us a ship, I
would call out volunteers, and, when a sufficient number had
responded, I would have the arms come down from Benicia in the
ship, arm my men, take possession of a thirty-two-pound-gun battery
at the Marine Hospital on Rincon Point, thence command a dispersion
of the unlawfully-armed force of the Vigilance Committee, and
arrest some of the leaders.

We played cards that night, carrying on a conversation, in which
Wool insisted on a proclamation commanding the Vigilance Committee
to disperse, etc., and he told us how he had on some occasion, as
far back as 1814, suppressed a mutiny on the Northern frontier. I
did not understand him to make any distinct promise of assistance
that night, but he invited us to accompany him on an inspection of
the arsenal the next day, which we did. On handling some rifled
muskets in the arsenal storehouse he asked me how they would answer
our purpose. I said they were the very things, and that we did not
want cartridge boxes or belts, but that I would have the cartridges
carried in the breeches-pockets, and the caps in the vestpockets.
I knew that there were stored in that arsenal four thousand
muskets, for I recognized the boxes which we had carried out in the
Lexington around Cape Horn in 1846. Afterward we all met at the
quarters of Captain D. R. Jones of the army, and I saw the
Secretary of State, D. F. Douglass, Esq., walk out with General
Wool in earnest conversation, and this Secretary of State afterward
asserted that Wool there and then promised us the arms and
ammunition, provided the Governor would make his proclamation for
the committee to disperse, and that I should afterward call out the
militia, etc. On the way back to the hotel at Benicia, General
Wool, Captain Callendar of the arsenal, and I, were walking side by
side, and I was telling him (General Wool) that I would also need
some ammunition for the thirty-two-pound guns then in position at
Rineon Point, when Wool turned to Callendar and inquired, "Did I
not order those guns to be brought away?" Callendar said "Yes,
general. I made a requisition on the quartermaster for
transportation, but his schooner has been so busy that the guns are
still there." Then said Wool: "Let them remain; we may have use for
them." I therefrom inferred, of course, that it was all agreed to
so far as he was concerned.

Soon after we had reached the hotel, we ordered a buggy, and
Governor Johnson and I drove to Vallejo, six miles, crossed over to
Mare Island, and walked up to the commandant's house, where we
found Commodore Farragut and his family. We stated our business
fairly, but the commodore answered very frankly that he had no
authority, without orders from his department, to take any part in
civil broils; he doubted the wisdom of the attempt; said he had no
ship available except the John Adams, Captain Boutwell, and that
she needed repairs. But he assented at last, to the proposition to
let the sloop John Adams drop down abreast of the city after
certain repairs, to lie off there for moral effect, which afterward
actually occurred.

We then returned to Benicia, and Wool's first question was, "What
luck?" We answered, "Not much," and explained what Commodore
Farragut could and would do, and that, instead of having a naval
vessel, we would seize and use one of the Pacific Mail Company's
steamers, lying at their dock in Benicia, to carry down to San
Francisco the arms and munitions when the time came.

As the time was then near at hand for the arrival of the evening
boats, we all walked down to the wharf together, where I told
Johnson that he could not be too careful; that I had not heard
General Wool make a positive promise of assistance.

Upon this, Johnson called General Wool to one side, and we three
drew together. Johnson said: "General Wool, General Sherman is
very particular, and wants to know exactly what you propose to do."
Wool answered: "I understand, Governor, that in the first place a
writ of Habeas corpus will be issued commanding the jailers of the
Vigilance Committee to produce the body of some one of the
prisoners held by them (which, of course, will be refused); that
you then issue your proclamation commanding them to disperse, and,
failing this, you will call out the militia, and command General
Sherman with it to suppress the Vigilance Committee as an unlawful
body;" to which the Governor responded, "Yes." "Then," said Wool,
"on General Sherman's making his requisition, approved by you, I
will order the issue of the necessary arms and ammunition." I
remember well that I said, emphatically: "That is all I want.--
Now, Governor, you may go ahead." We soon parted; Johnson and

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