The vaquero, or cowboy, had spoken truly. Beyond the hill was disclosed to view a large trading post—larger than either Bent’s Fort or Fort Laramie; built of adobe, like them, and like them fashioned with blockhouse corners, it had location more attractive, for it stood amidst wheat-fields and natural verdure, beside the sparkling American River. “El Capitan Sutter comes, se?ors,” announced the vaquero, pointing.
A man had galloped from the post and its fringe of out-buildings, and was rapidly approaching the squad. A short, stout, German-featured man he was, when he arrived: with rosy complexion, blue eyes, crisp moustache, high forehead, bald pate, and a soldiery way about him.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” he said, saluting. “Welcome to New Helvetia. I am Captain Sutter.”
“I am Lieutenant John C. Frémont, of the United States Army, on a government survey of Oregon and the Great Basin,” explained the lieutenant, shaking hands. “We’ve been forced across the mountains. I’ve left most of the company behind, while with a[249] squad I rode in advance, for supplies. Can we get them?”
“Most assuredly. All you want,” answered Captain Sutter, promptly. “Come with me.”
It was late to start back, to-day, with rescue for the Fitzpatrick party; but much refreshed by the abundant food and the night’s lodging at the hospitable post of New Helvetia they took the back trail, early in the morning, with horses and provisions. On the second day out, just before reaching the Forks of the American, they sighted the Fitzpatrick party straggling along—and a sorry party that was. All the men were afoot, tottering as they led tottering horse or mule. Oliver thought that he never had seen such skeletons living; and then it occurred to him that no doubt his own party were just about as bad, and that he was accustomed to them.
The Fitzpatrick party were too weak to cheer; they almost were too weak to eat; but the gaunt wan faces essayed a smile, and one or two hands were languidly waved. Camp was at once made, and the good rich beef and bread and salmon from Sutter’s Fort were distributed—cautiously, that the greedy Fitzpatrick men should not over-eat.
Thomas Fitzpatrick, his ruddy face drawn and gray with exhaustion, his white hair ragged, related that because of the melting snows and the rains a number of the pack animals had fallen from slippery precipices and had been killed, their packs lost. All[250] told, out of the 104 horses and mules with which the expedition had left the Dalles of the Columbia only thirty-three arrived in the Valley of the Sacramento; thus reckoned up Lieutenant Frémont, when, on the next day, camp of the whole company was established where the American emptied into the Sacramento, two miles below New Helvetia.
This New Switzerland, or New Helvetia, as Captain Sutter had named his settlement, and which was known also as Sutter’s Fort, was a most interesting place. The post walls were eighteen feet high, enclosing a rectangle 150 by 500 feet; they mounted twelve cannon and were garrisoned by forty Indians whom Captain Sutter (who had been a soldier in France) had uniformed and drilled. Lieutenant Frémont did not think much of the condition of the cannon, nor very highly of the smartness of the Indian soldiery; but all in all, the fort was rather imposing, here in the depth of California.
The jovial captain lived like a Highland chief. Kit Carson called him a king. Nobody interfered with him; he had been pronounced a Mexican citizen, by the governor of Alta California—but, anyway, citizen or not, he was too strong to be driven out. Besides the forty California Indians he employed thirty white men—mechanics, trappers, farmers, etc.; and all the American trappers and settlers in this part of California were free to make his settlement headquarters. His land extended over thirty-three square miles; it[251] was being grazed and farmed; he possessed 4200 cattle, 2000 horses, 1900 sheep, and sent out many beaver-skins and much wheat. His house, inside the fort, was furnished with regular chairs and beds and tables, of heavy, clumsy manufacture, having been hand-made, from laurel, at the former Russian trading post of Ross, on the sea-shore westward. He sent vessels down the Sacramento and up to Vancouver. He operated a flour-mill and was teaching the Indians to weave hats and blankets and to farm. Yes, powerful and rich and independent was Captain Johann Augustus Sutter, of New Helvetia, above the mouth of the Rio de los Americanos, Upper California. ’Twas at his saw-mill, fifty miles above his fort, that was discovered, in the winter of 1848–49, gold; and speedily his New Helvetia became Sacramento City.
The two weeks’ camp of the Frémont and Carson company, at the mouth of the American, was by no means an idle camp, devoted to sight-seeing or sitting in the Captain Sutter laurel chairs. Horses and mules and cattle were to be inspected and bought; new pack-saddles to be put together; bridles repaired, saddles repaired, ropes repaired or purchased, clothing repaired or purchased; Samuel Neal the blacksmith worked constantly at the post forge, shaping horse-shoes, bridle-bits, nails, etc.; and the Sutter flour-mill, grinding by horse-power, was in motion night and day producing flour.
[252]
A short council at which Captain Sutter was present determined upon the route home.
“It would be folly to recross the Sierras, here,” stated the lieutenant. “I suppose the snow lies on them away into the summer.”
“Yes, sir,” assured the captain.
“I was thinking, then,” continued the lieutenant, “of travelling south, down the Valley of the Sacramento and up the Valley of the San Joachin, that Kit has talked so much about, for the Joe Walker Pass at the lower end of the ranges. And then to strike the Spanish Trail that runs from the Pueblo of Los Angeles to Santa Fé.”
“Very good,” approved the captain. “It’s a fine, well-watered country, with plenty of game, all the way to the southern passes.”
“We’re not liable to be interfered with, by the authorities, are we?” queried the lieutenant. “This is Mexican territory, and we came in without leave.”
“Not so far back from the coast,” answered Captain Sutter. “But you’ll have to watch sharp, or the Indians, particularly the mansitos, or tamed Indians, as we call the Indians educated by the missions, who have returned to wild life, will steal your animals. They are very bold and clever. They even come down and try to steal our horses at New Helvetia.”
“We’ll watch,” promised the lieutenant.
“No white settlements, captain?” asked Kit.
“None inland, any more than when you travelled[253] through fifteen years ago, sir,” said Captain Sutter. “The whole country back from the line of missions, and the few settlements, along the coast, is a paradise unused except as the haunt of the Indians. It is a fair land going to waste. Some Anglo-Saxon race should have it, and cultivate it. That ............