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Seven and Nine years Among the Camanches and Apaches An Autobiography, a non-fiction book by Edwin Eastman |
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Chapter 28. A New Departure |
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_ CHAPTER XXVIII. A NEW DEPARTURE Glad to escape from such a scene of riot and violence, I walked rapidly along the narrow street, without any definite idea of where I was going. I soon passed the low and squalid looking rows of adobe buildings, which compose the greater part of the famous "Cuidad de Santa Fe," and came out upon the open plain beyond. My attention was attracted by a small group of wagons parked upon the plain a short distance off, and I walked towards them, thinking perhaps, to fall in with some of my own countrymen, of a different class from the brutal roughs I had lately met. The wagons were but four in number, and the party to which they belonged comprised only twelve or fifteen persons. They were mostly Americans, and from their dress and manner I took them to be a party of miners. All were stout, hardy looking men, with an air that bespoke familiarity with hardships and adventure. They had just struck camp, and were evidently preparing for departure. One, who seemed to act as their leader, was directing operations, and apparently exercised a degree of authority unusual among men of this class. He was a stout, broad-shouldered man, with a good natured expression of countenance, and from his voice and features, easily distinguishable as an Englishman. The others addressed him as "Harding," or "Ned." One or two giving him the familiar appellation of "Hard Pan," which seemed a sort of sobriquet by which he was known. There was something in his appearance which inspired me with the belief that in him I might find a friend; and impelled by this feeling I approached him, and addressed him as "Mr." Harding, explained that I was a stranger and destitute, in what was to me a strange land, and implored him to give me employment of some kind with his party, so that I might in time be enabled to return to my home in the distant East. "Where do ye come from, lad?" said he, looking at me with some interest, and noticing the ineffaceable marks upon my face--my legacy from the Camanches, and which I am destined to carry to my grave. In as few words as possible I told him my story, interrupted by many exclamations of wonder and sympathy from my simple-minded listener. As I concluded he slapped me on the back, and declared that I should join his party, and should never want for a bite or sup while Ned Harding was to the fore. By this time the other men of the party had gathered around, and I was compelled to repeat my tale, which excited both pity and interest in the breasts of the kind-hearted miners, who declared that the "cussed Kimanch ought to be wiped out." "Aye, every mother's son of them," added Ned, "for playing such tricks upon travelers, the bloody-minded heathen." It was soon agreed upon that I should accompany the party, who were on their way to the old Spanish mine of San Ildefonso, formerly noted as one of the richest in the province of New Mexico, but for many years deserted by the Mexicans from terror of the savage Apache and Navajo. The men composing the party of which I had now become a member, were not to be deterred in their search for a golden harvest by any fears of such a nature, and had determined to visit the old mine and "prospect" in its vicinity, with the hope of finding a paying lead. They had with them all the necessary utensils for their purpose, were well-armed, and with an abundant stock of provision, and seemed one and all to be confident of success in their enterprise. I will spare the reader unnecessary details, and merely state that we started within an hour on our journey, and after a wearisome and uninteresting trip of eighteen days, reached the scene of our future operations, and which was destined to be my abiding place for nearly two years. A suitable spot was selected, convenient to both wood and water; a few rude huts were erected, and the town of "Harding" sprang into being. After getting fairly settled, and resting somewhat from the fatigue incident to our journey and our labors in preparing our camp, we divided in parties of three and four, and went to "prospecting" in various directions for the precious metal, which was the object of our expedition. In this we were moderately successful and we soon had our mining operations in full blast. I always worked in company with "Ned," as I had learned to call him, and although he favored me to a degree, assigning to me all the lighter portions of the work, I soon found that it was the most severe labor I had ever undertaken, although I had been inured to toil and hardship of almost every kind daring my long residence with the Camanches. The old mine was situated at the base of a precipitous cliff of quartz rock. A number of rude shafts pierced the mountain side. Some had penetrated to a considerable depth; others more shallow, showing that the lead had proved unprofitable, and been speedily abandoned. On the banks of a little stream which wound around the base of the cliff, stood the old smelting house and ruined ranches of the Mexican miners. Most of them were roofless and crumbling to decay. The ground about them was shaggy and choked up. There were briers, mezcal plants, and many varieties of cactus; all luxuriant, hirsute, and thorny. These we speedily cleared away, and selecting one of the largest of the old smelting houses, we soon put in order for work. Besides our "quartz" mining in the old shafts and in new ones which we opened we also engaged in "gulch" and "surface" mining in the vicinity. As some account of the different modes employed to get at the precious metals, with which the rocks and soils of the far western states are so richly stored, may not be uninteresting to the reader, I will briefly give it. Mining for gold alone is divided into two general classes: that which seeks the metal from the solid rock or quartz, and that which finds it in sand, gravel, or soil. The former process is the universal and familiar one of all rock mining, following the rich veins into the bowels of the earth with pick and powder, crushing the rock and separating the infinitesimal atoms of metal from the dusty, powdered mass. The theory of the geologists is, that this is the original form or deposit of the precious metals; that the gold found in gravel, sand, or soil, lying as it does almost universally in the beds of rivers, or under the caves of the mountains, has been washed or ground out of the hard hills by the action of the elements through long years. Washing with water is the universal means of getting at these deposits of the gold. But the scale on which this work is done, and the instrumentalities of application vary from the simple hand-pan, pick, and shovel of the original miner, operating along the banks of a little stream, to grand combination enterprises for changing the entire course of a river, running shafts down hundreds of feet to get into the beds of long ago streams, and bringing water through ditches and flumes, and great pipes for ten or twenty miles, and withall to wash down a hillside of golden gravel, and extract its precious particles. The simple individual pan-washers are the first in the field, but it soon ceases to be profitable to this class of operators, and they soon move on in search of richer "diggings." The other means are employed on greater or less scales of magnitude, by combinations of men and capital. All the forms of gold-washing run into each other, indeed; and companies, sometimes consisting of only two or three persons, with capitals of a few hundred dollars merely, buy a sluice claim, or seize a deserted bed, and with shovel and pick, and a small stream of water, run the sands over and over through the sluiceways, and at the end of the day, or week, or month, gather up the deposits of gold in the bottoms and at the ends of their sluices. From this, operations ascend to a magnitude involving hundreds of thousands, and employing hundreds of men as partners or day laborers for the managers. Sometimes, too, the enterprise is divided, and companies are organized that furnish the water alone, and sell it out to the miners or washers, according to their wants. The raising of auriferous sands and gravel from the deeply covered beds of old streams, by running down shafts and tunnels into and through such beds, is called "deep diggings," or "bed rock diggings;" and in their pursuit, the bottoms of ancient rivers will be followed through the country for mile after mile, and many feet below the present surface of the earth. The miners in this fashion go down until they reach the bed rock along which the water originally ran, and here they find the richest deposits. The other sort of heavy gold washing, employing powerful streams of water to tear down and wash out the soil of hillsides that cover or hold golden deposits, is known as "hydraulic mining." This is the most unique and extensive process, involving the largest capital and risk. The water is brought from mountain lakes and rivers, through ditches and flumes, sometimes supported by trestle work, fifty or one hundred feet high, to near the scene of operations. Then it is let from the flumes into large and stout iron pipes, which grow gradually smaller and smaller. Out of these it is passed into hose, like that of a fire engine; and through this it is discharged with terrific force into the bank or bed of earth, which is speedily torn down and washed with resistless separating power into narrow beds or sluices in the lower valleys; and as it goes along these, the more solid gold particles deposit themselves in the rifts or slight barriers placed for that purpose across its path. Usually, in large operations of this kind, the main stream of water is divided in the final discharging hose into two or more streams, which spout out into the hillside as if from so many fire engines, but with immensely more force. One of these streams would instantly kill man or animal that should get before it; and fatal accidents frequently happen from this source. Sometimes a water company taps lakes fifteen or twenty miles off in the mountains, and turns whole rivers into its ditches. There are in some localities supposed rich gold banks and beds, which only require water for development, but to get which would require an outlay for ditches of many hundred thousand dollars. It is probable that it would be richly paying investment, however, and the principal reason why it is not undertaken is the lack of certain laws, regulating mining claims, and the conflicts and doubts that are occasioned by the neglect of the government to establish the terms of ownership in mining lands. As it is now, possession is the principal title to mining properties; prospectors and miners have established a few general rules for determining the rights of each other, and they can occupy the properties that they discover or purchase to a certain limited extent. No one person is permitted to take up more than a certain amount in feet or acres. The government so far has done nothing with these mineral lands, whose real ownership is still in itself, and derives no revenue from them. Whenever difficulties arise and are brought before the courts, the regulations of the miners of the district where the properties are located has generally been sustained. But the apprehension that the government will yet assume its rights and establish different rules for the possession and use of these lands, and the uncertainty and controversies growing out of the present loose ways of making and holding claims, are a serious obstacle to large enterprises, and a hindrance to the best sort of mining progress and prosperity throughout all the western mining country. The profits obtained in some cases of extensive deep diggings and hydraulic mining are very great. A thousand dollars a day is often washed out by a company holding rich soil and employing a large force; and a run of several weeks, averaging from fifty to one hundred dollars a day for each man employed is frequently recorded. A single "cleaning up" after a few weeks' washing in a rich place has produced fifty thousand dollars in gold dust and nuggets; and in some cases, even one hundred thousand dollars has been reported. These are the extreme cases of good fortune, however; other enterprises are run at a loss, or with varying result; but the gold washing, as a general thing pay good wages, and a fair return to the capital invested. It is hardly possible to imagine, and wholly impossible to describe the ruin and wreck to be seen everywhere in the path of the larger gold washing operations. Streams naturally pure as crystal, become changed to a thick, yellow mud, from this cause, early in their passage out from the hills. Many of them are turned out of their original channels, either directly for mining purposes, or in consequence of the great masses of soil and gravel that come down from the gold washings above. Thousands of acres of fine lands along their banks are ruined forever, by deposits of this character. The mining interest respects no rights but its own. A farmer may have his whole estate changed to a barren waste, by a flood of sand and gravel from some hydraulic mining up the stream. If a fine orchard or garden stands in the way of the working of a rich gulch or bank, orchard and garden are doomed. They are torn down, dug out, washed to pieces, and then washed over side hills. Where the process of hydraulic mining has been, or is being carried on, the country presents an appearance of devastation and ruin that is scarcely imaginable; forming a frightful blot upon the face of nature. For this sort of mining on a large scale, we had no facilities, so we were compelled to work in a very small way, and be satisfied with correspondingly small results. News of our successful establishment of the old mine, in some way reached Santa Fe, and, rushing to the conclusion that we had found a new Eldorado, all the floating population of that decaying city swooped down upon us, and we soon found quite a populous settlement growing up around us. A very decided change in our situation resulted from this, and some rather exciting events transpired, but these I will leave for another chapter. Soon after the accessions to our community had become so numerous, my friend and partner, Ned Harding, fell ill. This put a sudden stop to our mining operations, and for several weeks I was compelled to remain by the side of his rude couch, attending to his wants, and doing all that I could to facilitate his recovery. Among the new arrivals at our "diggings" was a Mexican, who had followed the profession of a medico in former times, but who was now an inveterate gold hunter; one of the sort who are perpetually on the move from place to place, seeking placers of fabulous richness, but never working any claim long enough to fairly develop it. Perhaps they have no sooner commenced operations in one place, when a rumor comes of rich finds at some far distant point, and off they go, to repeat the same performance indefinitely. When Ned was first taken sick, I thought of this Mexican doctor, and at once went in search of him. With some difficulty I persuaded him to get out of the hole in which he was working, and go to see my friend. We had a few simple medicines among our supplies, and from some of these the ex-doctor prepared a potion for Ned, which he declared would be "mucho bueno," and that the patient would be all right in "tres dias," at the most. The result, however, failed so justify his expectations, for Ned became no better, although there was no marked change for the worse. It went on in this way for several weeks; I continuing to give the medicines prescribed by the Mexican physician, but without any apparent result. Ned seemed to be in a kind of low fever, and to constantly lose strength. The stomach seemed to entirely refuse its office, and it was almost impossible to give him any food, however light, that he could keep down much longer than while eating it. He complained greatly of pain in the back and head, and a constant feeling of nausea at the stomach, or, as he expressed it, "I tell ye, lad, theare's something thear as wants to come up and can't." Finally, seeing no signs of improvement from the treatment pursued by our Mexican friend, and becoming greatly alarmed at Ned's condition, I was sitting one day, in great despondency, upon a stump in front of our hut, when it suddenly flashed upon my mind that I had never tried the Indian remedy, in the preparation and administration of which I had spent so great a part of my life. For some reason it had never occurred to me to use it, and indeed, I did not know whether it was possible to procure the necessary ingredients, in my present location, although I judged it probable that I might do so. At all events, I determined to make the attempt, and accordingly I went "prospecting" for the required herbs, roots, etc., that very day. After two days spent in this way, I succeeded in procuring all the ingredients which I had so many times compounded under Wakometkla's direction, and lost no time in preparing the medicine. I then commenced giving it to my patient in small doses, at intervals of four or five hours, through the day, and was soon gratified to find an almost immediate improvement in his condition. The second day after commencing this treatment, the fever left him; he broke out into a profuse perspiration, and fell into a deep sleep, which lasted for many hours. When he awoke he complained of feeling very hungry; and when I prepared some food he ate quite heartily, and retained it on his stomach without difficulty. Encouraged by these favorable indications, I continued the medicine, and with surprising results. His recovery was so rapid that it seemed almost miraculous. In eight days he declared himself entirely well, and almost overwhelmed me with expressions of gratitude, declaring that I had saved his life. I told him that his thanks were due not to me, but to Wakometkla, the strange old medicine-man of the Camanches, or, more properly, to that higher Power, which had enabled this uneducated savage to discover and prepare from the simple growths of the forest and mountain, so wonderful a remedy for "all the ills that flesh is heir to." Ned was so universal a favorite among the miners, that his illness had excited great sympathy and commiseration. As he went about, trumpeting forth my praise as a medical practitioner, I soon found that I had gained considerable notoriety. The miners dubbed me "Doctor," and called for my services in all cases requiring medical assistance. With Wakometkla's remedy alone as my entire pharmacopoeia, I battled with many forms of disease incident to our rough and exposed life, and met with almost unvarying success. In fact, in that region I expect I shall never be known by any other title than "Doctor," although I do not claim or fancy such a designation. It would be well for the people if the old school mineral physicians, who are rapidly ruining the health of the entire nation by the free use of deleterious and poisonous drugs, would take a leaf from the book of nature, and re-study their profession in the same school from which I graduated--the school of nature. _ |
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