by Don Berry
This letter was written on the 15th, the "next tuesday” being December 19. So for three days Jedediah remained in San Diego, virtually a prisoner, while the gloomy Echeandiap presumably sorted it all out in his mind.
Meanwhile Rogers was still enjoying himself about the Mission San Gabriel, noting almost every day in his journal "Things much the same” and "Nothing of consequence has taken place today more than usual." He went out fowling a couple of times, and broke up a fight among his own men; observed that the priest played at cards both Sundays and "weak a days; when he has company that can play pretty expert." There was even a theological discussion: Rogers being a strict Calvinist did not believe in the ability of any man to absolve another for his sins, yet listened to the priest's explanation of Catholic doctrine and duly noted it all down in his journal.
December dwindled out to nothing, and still he had not heard from his captain. On New Year’s Day, 1827, he delivered a long address to the reverend father on the subject of missionary history as recorded in the Old and New Testaments, the text of which is carefully recorded in the journal.
Finally, word came through,.on January 3. Smith wrote that the governor had signed his passports; and a grudging signature it must have been. It took the sworn statements of six American officers—three of them full captains—to induce Eoheandia’s penato paper.4
Smith had originally requested permission to proceed along "the coast northward. He wanted to go to the bay of San Francisco, and "follow up one of the largest Riv that emptied into the Bay cross the mou at its head and from thence to our Deposit on the waters of the Salt Lake."
This permission the governor refused. He gave permission for Smith to trade such supplies as he needed, and to depart. But not north; Smith was to leave the Mexican territory the fastest way, which was—to Echeandia’s precise mind—exactly the same way he had come.
It may well be that permission to go back across the Great Basin, which had already cost him thirty-two horses, was greeted with something less than enthusiasm by the booshway. Still, it was better than waiting three months, or being sent under guard to Mexico.
And at San Gabriel, Rogers observes with true Calvinist spirit:
The women here are very unchaste .... They think it an honnour to ask a white man to sleep with them; one came to my lodgings last night and asked me to make her a blanco Pickanina, which, being interpreted, is to get her a white child, and I must say for the first time, I was ashamed, and did not gratify her or comply with her request, seeing her so forward, I had no propensity to tech her. Things about the mission much the same.
III
There had been a certain amount of disaffection among the men of Smith's party from the beginning of the trip. Rogers observes at one point that "Our own men are contentious and quarrelsome amongst themselves and have been ever since we started the expedition? This was due in part, of course, to their circumstances; first the ordeal of the desert crossing, then to be plunged overnight into idleness. Even the generosity of the good Father Sanchez was little appreciated. (Among other things, he had given Smith sixty-four yards of material to make shirts for his men.)
The principal troublemakers in Smith's brigade were his blacksmith, James Reed, and Daniel Ferguson. Reed was plain cantankerous; the mentions of him in Rogers’ journal draw the picture of a man much inclined to feel, himself put upon. It rankled him that Smith and Rogers were accorded better treatment than the rest of the men, even though Father Sanchez had been quick enough to improve their condition when it was mentioned to him by Smith.
It was previously noted that Smith found it necessary to "give Read a little floggin . . . on account of some of his impertinence"; but Harrison Rogers was not the man to discipline that rowdy crew with his fists. Smith's long-extended absence while wrangling with Echeandia left Rogers in an ambiguous position: "I am at a loss how to act in [Smith’s] absence with the company, as he left no special instructions with me when he left here." [Jan. 1, 1827; entry]
Reed’s belligerence came to a head on January 6. On this Epiphany day wine was issued "abundantly to both Spanyards and Inds." And also to the transient trappers, because Reed and Ferguson started a brawl. When the Mexicans tried to break it up, one of them hit another of the trappers, Arthur Black. This, naturally, changed the direction of the fight; Reed and Ferguson presumably forgot whatever fuzzy-headed grievance they had with each other and turned to face the Mexicans.
A battle with an international flavor was on the point of breaking out, which would probably have resulted in serious consequences. When Rogers heard what was happening, he hurried off to confront the prospective hghters, and arrived before any real damage had been done. Somehow he managed to talk their way out of the impending situation: "I went among them, and passified our men by telling them what trouble they were bringing upon themselves in case they did not desist."
Trouble indeed; fourteen men in the midst of what amounted to an armed garrison were in no position to be starting a battle royal. The Mexicans maintained at San Gabriel a strong force of soldiers and had eight pieces of artillery; "to protect them from the Inds. in case they should rebel." Had the fracas begun, Smith would probably have returned to San,Gabriel—if at all—in chains; However, Rogers managed the affair with a good deal of skill for a man not accustomed to command. He must have painted the picture of possible consequences clearly enough, for 'the most of them [the trappers], being men of reason, adhered to my advice."
James Reed, as might have been expected, was not satisfied with this outcome; and his resentment at the officers' special treatment was still hot, perhaps nearly as hot as the aguardiente that nurtured it. Later that night, while Rogers and Father Sanchez were having their customary quiet dinner, Reed paid them a visit.
He was still enormously drunk when he burst into the priest’s dining room and demanded more "ergadent." Father Sanchez very politely invited the man to sit at the table with them, and ordered a plate of food to be brought for him. Reed ate a few mouthfuls, and sullenly set the plate back on the table.
He grabbed the decanter of wine and drank, "and came very near braking the glass when he set it down." Father Sanchez’ innate good taste and hospitality prevented anything coming of this second disturbance. As Rogers dryly noted, "The Padre, seeing he was in a state of inebriety, refrained from saying anything?"
For Rogers himself the events of the day were probably as much embarrassing as dangerous; the little clerk was almost wistful about the good life as lived at San Gabriel. He was profoundly conscious of the poor appearance he and his men made, ragged and dirty, amidst the more civilized finery at the mission. Several of his joumal entries deal with his embarrassment:
My situation is a very delicate one, being among the grandees of the country every day .... I make a very grotesque appearance when seated at table among the dandys with there ruffles, silks, and broad clothes.
This is hardly the kind of concern one might expect of the mountain man; but then the label tends to make us forget the wide variety of men who made fur hunting their trade. Not all were James Reeds by any means. For Rogers the civilized attractions of San Gabriel held great appeal.
I could see a great deal of satisfaction here if I could talk there language [he wrote] but, as it is, I feel great diffidence in being among them, knot knowing the topic of there conversation, still every attention is paid to me by all that is present, especially the old priest. I must say he is a very fine man and a very much of a gentleman.
Four days after leaving San Gabriel, Rogers, the Calvinist, wrote of the genial priest:
Old Father Sanchus has been the greatest friend that I ever met with in all my travels, he is worthy of being called a Christian, as he possesses charity in the highest degree, and a friend to the poor and distressed. I shall ever hold him as a man of God, taking us when in distress, feeding, and clothing us, and may God prosper him and all such men.
Smith arrived back at Mission San Gabriel on Wednesday, January 10; h
aving been brought back up the coast by his seafaring savior, Captain Cunningham of the Courier.5
The next week was a round of horse buying, mostly at Los Angeles. Smith purchased around fifty horses in the ensuing week; and even at the relatively cheap California prices, it is not clear where he got the money to pay for them. It is probable he had made some kind of arrangement with Cunningham. The horses, according to Rogers' vague comment, were to be paid for in merchandise, at the Courier (now at San Pedro).
By the 18th the party had been made up. They rose early and started out—Smith having received a final courtesy from Father Sanchez, in the form of an order for "a1l the supplyes we stand in need of" at the frontier settlement of San Bernardino.
(Rogers had a bit of difficulty with the name, within three days having it variously Bernado, Bernardano, Bernandino, Burnandeino. The last he used twice, which gives it a kind of official sanction.)
However, within a half mile of the mission Smith discovered his Mexican-trained horses were still free of spirit; they "started and run 8 or 10 miles before we stoped them." They encamped for the night in the neighborhood of present Santa Anita, and Smith and Rogers returned to the mission for a last farewell. Father Sanchez "Gave each of us a blankett, and give me [Rogers] a cheese, and a gourd filled with ogadent."
They stayed in this camp all the next day. Five of their best horses were missing, and part of the men were detailed to find them, while others tried to break those that remained, with only indifferent success. The hunters returned without finding the missing animals, and Smith decided to abandon them. They procured an Indian boy for a guide and started out the next morning, Sunday the 21st.
The party was one man short. Daniel Ferguson had apparently been as much taken with Mission San Gabriel as Rogers; in any event, he hid himself there so Smith could not find him when the brigade was ready to leave. Another man, John Wilson, had been "discharged" by Smith on the 17th, under unrecorded circumstances. Wilson, however, had not been able to get permission to remain in the country, and was now back with the party, though not on pay as yet.
For nearly a week they remained at their camp of the 21st; an Indian farmhouse about four miles from San Bernardino. During this time Smith was engaged in negotiations with the steward at San Bernardino, making final arrangements for goods, trading off the wildest of his horses while the men continued their efforts to break those he kept.
(Rogers’ journal ends abruptly on January 27, while they were still encamped outside San Bernardino. The movements of the party are somewhat more conjectural from this point.)
When Echeandia had finally given Smith permission to leave California, it was with the provision that he return by the way he had come. It is equally certain that Smith had no such intention 6. His plan was to head toward the north, probably hoping to intersect a river that would take him across the mountains; possibly even across the Great Basin. He knew there was nothing to be had in the latitudes he had covered; but farther north there was still a
possibility.
Smith described his return route in the letter to General Clark previously quoted:
I returned to my party and purchased such articles aswere necessary, and went Eastward of the Spanish settlements on the route I had come in. I then steered my course N.W. keeping from 150 miles to 200 miles from the sea coast. A very high range of mountains [the Sierra Nevadas] lay on the East. After travelling three hundred miles in that direction through a country somewhat fertile, in which there was a great many Indians, mostly naked and destitute of arms, with the exception of a few Bows and Arrows and what is very singular amongst Indians, they cut their hair to the length of three inches; they proved to be friendly; their manner of living is on fish, roots, acorns and grass.
On my" arrival at the river which I named the Wim-mul-che (named after a tribe of Indians which resides on it, of that name) I found a few beaver, and elk, deer, and antelope in abundance. [Morgan identifies this as Kings River.] I here made a small hunt, and attempted to take my party across the [mountains] which I before mentioned, and which I called Mount Joseph, to come on and join my partners at the Great Salt Lake. I found the snow so deep on Mount Joseph that I could not cross my horses, five of which starved to death; I was compelled therefore, to return to the valley which I had left, and there, leaving my party, I started with two men, seven horses and two mules, which I loaded with hay for the horses and provisions for ourselves, and started on the 20th day of May, and succeeded in crossing it in eight days, having lost only two horses and one mule.
Meanwhile the Mexican authorities were becoming disturbed about Smith’s steady progress up the middle of California. It was reported that Smith, or some of his party, had induced the desertion of 400 converted Indians from the missions. (It was later discovered that these desertions had been caused by one of the Christianized Indians "using the specious pretext of the Americans," but for the time being the presence of Smith's party was regarded with a good deal of alarm.)
Jedediah learned of this from some of the Indians they encountered and was anxious that there be no more trouble with, the authorities. On May 19 (just one day before he left his camp to cross the Great Basin), he wrote Narciso Duran, president of all the missions, at San José:
Reverend Father;—I understand, through the medium of one of your Christian Indians, that you are anxious to know who we are, as some of the Indians I have been at the Mission and informed you that there were certain white people in the country. We are Americans, on our journey to the River Columbia; we were in at the Mission San Gabriel in January last; I went to San Diego and saw the General, and got a passport from him to pass on to that place. I have made several efforts to cross the mountains, but the snow being so deep I could not succeed in getting over. I returned to this place (it being the only point to kill meat) to wait a few weeks until the snow melts so that I can go on; the Indians here also being friendly, I consider it the most safe point for me to remain, until such time as I can cross the mountains with my horses, having lost a great many in attempting to cross ten or fifteen days since. I am a long ways from home, and am anxious to get there as soon as the nature of`the case will admit. Our situation is quite unpleasant, being destitute of clothing and most necessities of life, wild meat being our principal subsistence. I am, Reverend Father, your strange, but real friend and Christian brother.
May 19, 1827
J. S. Smith
Father Duran would not receive the letter. Instead, he had it sent to Monterey; Echeandia was now there, and perhaps Duran felt the temporal authority better equipped to deal with the problem. The governor ordered the temporary comandante at San Francisco, one Ignacio Martinez, to take Smith into custody. His passport, said Echeandia, did not entitle him to inspect the Mexican settlements, doubtless making maps for future mischief. Smith was apparently to be disarmed and held at San José until further instructions could be forwarded from Mexico; or until a ship came that would transport him directly to Oregon, without the necessity of his passing through any more Mexican territory.
However, by the time these orders had been issued and put into effect, it was too late. The Mexicans found Smith already gone, having left with two other men to make the trip back to Great Salt Lake.
What transpired at the American camp (which was probably on the Stanislaus River) is not precisely known; presumably Harrison Rogers was in command in Smith’s absence. He must have talked well; and perhaps the soldiery were "men of reason" also. In any event, the trappers were left unmolested, waiting for Smith to return from the mountain rendezvous.
***
The two men who accompanied Smith on the eastward trip were Silas Gobel, the blacksmith, and Robert Evans. It was a journey of starvation and thirst, of heat and desperation. On the summit of "Mount Joseph" the snow was from four to eight feet deep. Repeated drawings and refreezings had formed crust on the surface, and the hoofs of the animals sank only from six inches to a foot; without this minor fortune of weather, th
e crossing would probably have been impossible. As it was, he lost two of the horses and a mule; considered himself lucky to get off so cheap, referring to the loss as "only two horses and one mule." It seems enough, as he started with seven and two, respectively.
The three men were eight days crossing the Sierra Nevada.7 They came down the eastern slope near the end of May, and started the long trek across Nevada. The country was
completely barren and destitute of game. We frequently travelled without water sometimes for two days over sandy deserts where there was no sign of vegetation and when we found water in some of the rocky hills, we most generally found som Indians who appeared the most miserable of the human race, having nothing to subsist on, (nor any clothing) except grass seed, grasshoppers, &c.
Smith’s descriptive letter to General Clark says he traveled "twenty days from the East side of Mount Joseph" to reach Great Salt Lake, but this does not jibe with his own journal.
The journal records seeing "the Salt Lake a joyful sight" for the first time on June 27; thirty-eight days from his camp and thirty after the eight day crossing of the Sierra Nevada. The last stage of the trip was an agony of endurance. On the 23rd, after having passed salty and undrinkable springs during the day, he finally reached "water that was drinkable but continued on in hopes of Ending better"—and there was none. They had to encamp without any. By this time the horses had dwindled down to three; the superior endurance of the mule was beginning to show.
The next day Jedediah climbed a hill, but the prospect was just the same: "sandy plains or,dry Rocky hills." Fifty or sixty miles to the northeast he could see a range of mountains whose peaks were snow covered—a reminder there were places in the world where water was not a problem.
Descending, he was afraid to tell Gobel and Evans what he had seen; told them instead that he 'saw something black at a distance, near which no doubt we would find water," One of the horses had died while he was on the hill; now there were only two. The party took the best of the flesh and pushed on. Smith tried to keep up the spirits of the other two, but what could he say? To his journal he told the truth: i "The view ahead was almost hopeless."