Eighteen men set out with Jedediah Smith on his second expedition to California. One of the eighteen was the durable Silas Gobel, but Robert Evans had had enough of the West for the time being; he left the mountains this summer and apparently did not return until 1834, when he was chosen by Nathaniel Wyeth to be the first bourgeois of Fort Hall.1
Aside from Gobel, these composed the company: Henry (“Boatswain”) Brown, William Campbell, David Cunningham, Thomas Daws, Francois Deromme, Isaac Galbraith, Polette La-bross (a mulatto), Joseph Lapoint, Toussaint Maréchal (or Marrishall), Gregory Ortago (a “Spaniard”), Joseph Palmer, John B. Ratelle, John Relle (“a Canadian”), Robiseau (“a Canadian half-breed”), Charles Swift, John Turner and Thomas Virgin. Maréchal, Ortago and Deromme had come to the Rockies only this summer, but the rest were old hands; Galbraith and Virgin had been in the mountains since 1824, at least. Two Indian women were probably squaws of the Canadians.2
Jedediah took this party south from rendezvous on July 13, 1827. He had learned enough of “the Sand Plain” on his eastward journey
to know that it would be impossible for a party with loaded horses and encumbered with baggage to ever cross it. Of the [nine] animals with which I left the Appelamminy but two got through to the Depo, and they were, like ourselves, mere skeletons. I therefore was obliged to take the More circuitous route down the Colorado which although much better than that across the Plain was yet a journey presenting many serious obstacles.
His object, Jedediah adds, was to relieve his party in California and then proceed farther, examining the country beyond Mount Joseph and along the sea coast. “I of course expected to find Beaver which with us hunters is a primary object but I was also led on by the love of novelty common to all which is much increased by the pursuit of its gratification.” 3
Perhaps it was this love of novelty which started him off for the south by a different route. Instead of heading for the valley of the Great Salt Lake, he took his party southeast, up over the ridge which divides Bear Lake from Bear River, then south up the Bear itself. When the Uinta Mountains loomed ahead, he veered off to the southwest, and probably by way of Chalk Creek came down to the Weber. He then followed in reverse Ashley’s route of 1825 as far as the Provo River, and followed that stream down to Utah Valley.4
Here he found a large band of Utes encamped, the same with which he had made a treaty the year before. The Utes told him that in the spring some white men had come up from the south and turned east in the direction of Taos; these men were nearly starved to death. What had been an unknown land only a year before was already being transformed into a crossroads. The fur frontier was advancing all over the West, and Jedediah had barely preceded to California trappers who were operating out of New Mexico. The Utes had told a straight story, for along the Sevier, Jedediah found tracks of horses which had been made in the spring when the ground was soft.
His further journey to the Colorado, Jedediah dismisses in a few words. At Lost River the Indians who had been so wild the year before came to him by dozens; Jedediah’s journal has an interesting allusion to his previous passage: “Every little party told me by Signs and words so that I could understand them, of the party of White Men that had passed there the year before, having left a knife and other articles at the encampment when the indians had ran away.” Jedediah made these Indians further small presents and moved on to the Virgin and the Santa Clara. Not an Indian was to be seen, nor appearance of any having been in the locality during the summer; their flimsy little lodges were burned down.
Anxious to avoid a repetition of his experience in the canyon of the Virgin, Jedediah turned up the Santa Clara River some miles, “and then turning S W I crossed the Mountain without any difficulty and crossing some low Ridges struck a Ravine which I followed down to the bed of the dry River [Beaverdam Wash] which I call Pautch Creek which I followed down to Adam’s River about 10 miles below the Moutn.” Thus Jedediah pioneered the road taken by present-day US 91 west from St. George. From the time he struck the Virgin, Jedediah had seen but one Indian, who kept as close to rock as a mountain sheep. The Indians continued wild all the way to the Colorado.
On reaching the mouth of the Virgin, Jedediah found “the old Pautch farmer still on the east side of the Colorado.” He continues, giving us the barest glimpse of the difficulties of the first journey:
From this place to the first Amuchaba village my route was the same as when I passed before with the exception that instead of taking the ravine [canyon] in which I had so much difficulty I took another further south and passed in to the river without difficulty.
As there had been no indians to carry news of our approach on our arrival at the village the indians all ran off but finding an opportunity to talk with one of them the[y] soon returned and seemed as friendly as when I was there before.
I remained a day to rest my fatigued animals and then moved down to the next settlement. The indians had heard of my approach and met me some distance above their village.
I went to the place where I intended to cross the Colorado and encamped in a situation where I found good grass, with the intention of giving my horses some rest. I exchanged some horses, Bought some Corn and Beans and made a present to the Chiefs.
Francisco, Jedediah’s interpreter of the year before, was still at the Mojave Villages, and he told the young American captain that after Jedediah set out for San Gabriel the previous November “a party of Spaniards & Americans from the Province of Sonora, by the way of the Gila,” had appeared there. According to Francisco’s story, the members of this party had quarreled and separated, one division continuing up the Colorado, the other taking another direction. This, Jedediah thought, “accounted for the tracks of horses and Mules I had seen on Ashley river and for the starved party which the Utas said had passed through their country.”
It sufficed Jedediah that the small mystery of the starving whites had been solved, but this narrative must reckon with the appearance of a party of trappers at such a place and time. It is only surprising that Jedediah had not crossed trails with one of the New Mexico-based parties before now. Etienne Provost had been followed out of Taos by the brothers Robidoux, William Becknell, Ewing Young, Sylvestre Pratte—and a little later by Ceran St. Vrain and the brothers Bent. By the winter of 1824-1825 American trappers out of New Mexico were on the Green, the Grand and the San Juan, and farther south they were reaching the sources of the Gila and the Little Colorado; they may have crossed the continental divide at several points before Jedediah Smith made the momentous crossing farther north.
In September 1826 Sylvestre Pratte led one such party to the Gila; it consisted of fifteen men, including Milton Sublette, the rambunctious younger brother of William. They had a run-in with Coyotero Apaches, who drove them back to the Rio Grande, but after being reinforced by a party of sixteen men under Ewing Young, one of the outstanding figures of the southwestern fur trade, they moved back into Coyotero country. Seven Apaches were killed, after which the season for beaver opened again, Young trapped the Gila to its mouth, and then turned up the Colorado to the Mojave Villages. The Mojaves were not friendly, and in an attack on the party, a number were killed. When Jedediah reappeared in the Mojave Valley, the Indians were still aching from their wounds.5
The Mojaves dissembled well, and Jedediah had no intimation that their hearts were bad. He remained three days among them, recruiting his horses and trading a few articles of merchandise for beans, wheat, corn, dried pumpkins and melons. Jedediah’s ability to learn from experience was evidenced by the superior condition of his party this year: three days’ rest put his animals in shape to travel. It was probably about August 18 that he set about crossing the Colorado.6
Leaving the horses and half of the company on the left bank, Jedediah loaded a part of his goods on rafts of cane grass, and moved out on the broad river. The Mojaves had waited patiently for this moment. Raising the war cry, they fell on the ten men and two women who remained behind. Within seconds Brown, Campbell, Cunningham, Deromme, Gobel, Labross, Ortago, Ratelle, Relle and Robiseau were dead and the women made prisoners. Apparently Jedediah and the others were attacked also, for Thomas Virgin was badly wounded in the head by a Mojave war club.7
It seemed to the nine who still lived that they would join their companions soon enough, for hundreds of Mojaves were scattered along the banks of the river, and to defend themselves the whites had only their butcher knives and five guns. They had lost their horses and all their provisions but fifteen pounds of dried meat.
“After weighing all the circumstances of my situation as ca[l]mly as possible,” Jedediah writes in his journal, “I concluded to again try the hospitality of the Californians. I had left with my party on the Appelaminy a quantity of Beaver furr and if the Governor would permit me to trade, and I could find any person acquainted with the value of furr, I might procure such supplies as would enable me to continue my journey to the north.” But how big was the if: “I was yet on the sand bar in sight of My dead companions and not far off were some hundreds of indians who might in all probability close in uppon us and with an Arrow or Club terminate all my measures for futurity.”
Such articles of his outfit as would sink Jedediah threw into the river; the rest he spread out on the sand bar. Telling his men the kind of journey they faced, he gave them permission to take with them whatever they chose. The remainder Jedediah scattered over the ground, hoping the Indians would quarrel over the spoils and give him more time to escape. His thoughts must have gone back to the defeat by the Rees four summers before; the ten men lost made this a disaster second only to Ashley’s, and his situation now was incomparably worse than Ashley’s had been.
Shouldering their small packs, Jedediah and his eight men turned their backs on the Colorado. They had not gone half a mile before the Mojaves closed around them. Jedediah thought it his best chance to move back to the river, and if the Indians allowed him time, select a spot where he and his men might sell their lives as dearly as possible. He succeeded in reaching the riverbank, and took up a position in a thicket of small cottonwood trees. Jedediah’s journal continues:
With our knives we lopped down the small trees in such a manner as to clear a place in which to stand while the fallen poles formed a slight breast work, we then fastened our Butcher knives with cords to the end of light poles so as to form a tolerable lance, and thus poorly prepared we waited the approach of our unmerciful enemies. On one side the river prevented them from approaching us, but in every other direction the indians were closing in uppon us, and the time seemed fast approaching in which we were to come to that contest which must, in spite of courage conduct and all that man could do terminate in our destruction. It was a fearful time Eight [nine] men with but 5 guns were awaiting behind a defence made of brush the charge of four or five hundred indians whose hands were yet stained with the blood of their companions. Some of the men asked me if I thought we would be able to defend ourselves. I told them I thought we would. But that was not my opinion. I directed that not more than three guns should be fired at a time and those only when the Shot would be certain of killing. Gradually the enemy was drawing near but kept themselves covered from our fire. Seeing a few indians who ventured out from their covering within long shot I directed two good marksmen to fire they did so and two indians fell and another was wounded. Uppon this the indians ran off like frightened sheep and we were released from the apprehension of immediate death.
Courage and conduct could sometimes be enough. The Mojaves did not press them again, and just before dark the nine men struck out into the desert. They traveled all night, and next morning reached the first spring. They had no way of carrying water and the desert was blisteringly hot, so Jedediah remained at the spring until evening. Lacking guides, they must depend on Jedediah’s memory of a route he had traveled just once. “In a low plain,” he says, “and in the night when I co[u]ld not see the distant and detached hills I had no guide by which to travel and therefore lost my way.” At daybreak he ascended a hill, but could not ascertain on which side the trail ran. Observing a high hill nearly in the direction he wished to travel, Jedediah told the men which way to go in case he did not come back and, taking one man with him, pushed on in search of water. The ability to find water when life depended on it was one of the highest skills the mountain men possessed, and Jedediah had become a master mountain man. He found the water they had to have. Worn out by incessant anxiety and fatigue, he lay down to sleep while his man went back to bring on the party.
Awakened by their arrival, he climbed the highest hill in sight and established that they were about five miles to the right of the trail, nearly opposite a place where he had found water the year before.
We remained at the spring [Jedediah’s journal continues] until nearly night and then bearing the spring on the trail to the left I struck directly for the next spring on the old route, traveling and resting by intervals during the night and the following morning until ten O Clock, when we got to the spring. We then remained during the remainder of the day and the following night, and in the morning early we started but instead of following the old trail I turned to the left and struck directly for the Salt Plain. My guides had told me of that route when I was there before, but it was considered too stoney for horses. The day was extremely warm and consequently we suffered much from thirst my men more than myself for they had not been accustomed to doing without water as much as I had. We found some relief from chewing slips of the Cabbage Pear, a singular plant.... verry juicy although frequently found growing on the most parched and Barren ground. My men were much discouraged, but I cheered and urged them forward as much as possible and it seemed a happy providence that lead us to the little spring in the edge of the Salt Plain, for there was nothing to denote its place and the old trail was filled up with the drifting sand. Two of the men had been obliged to stop two or three miles before we got to the spring and although it was just night two of the men took a small kettle of water and went back, found and brought them up. After dark we proceed[ed] on across the Salt Plain and stopt at the holes I had dug when I passed before and there remained for the rest of the night.
On the following day Jedediah moved on to Inconstant River, the Mojave, finding it even drier than the year before. About eight miles up this fickle stream Jedediah came on two horses, and soon after two Indian lodges. As the Indians did not discover him until he had got close to them, they had no chance to run off. They were Paiutes. With some cloth, knives and beads he had carried from the Colorado, Jedediah purchased the horses, some sorghum candy, and a few demijohns for carrying water. Near the head of the river he fell in with a few lodges of another Shoshonean people whom the Californians called Serranos; from them he purchased two more horses. In continuing his journey, Jedediah says, “instead of traveling south East around the bend of the stream I struck directly across the Plain Nearly SSW to the Gape of the Mountain”—and thus he made for Cajon Pass.8
On emerging into the San Bernardino Valley, probably on August 28, Jedediah determined to kill a few cattle and dry meat enough to support his little party “through the Barren country Between Bernardino and the Appelaminy.” He had several cows shot and began cutting and drying the meat. As the distance to San Gabriel was considerable, he did not go in but sent word to San Bernardino Rancho of what he had done. The overseer came out, Jedediah says, “bringing with him such little Luxuries as he had, and as he appeared anxious that I should go in and stay with him a night at the farm house I did so and was verry well treated.” With the things he and his men had brought on their backs from the Colorado, Jedediah traded for horses enough to enable all his party to ride.
Jedediah had been nine and a half days coming from the Colorado, and he remained at the camp in the San Bernardino Valley five days. During his stay he obtained some paper and wrote Father Sánchez. He had not, he said, intended to return to the California settlements, but an attack by Indians had left him and his men destitute. He had killed four beeves, and for these and past benefits he thanked the good father. Two of his men Jedediah left at San Bernardino. Thomas Virgin was not yet recovered from his wounds, and the giant Isaac Galbraith, a free trapper, preferred to stay in this strange, sunny land.9
Directing Thomas Virgin to come on to San Francisco as soon as his health would permit, and leaving him a good horse, Jedediah set out for the north.10 With small exception he traveled the route he had taken the year before, and reached the camp on the Stanislaus September 18.
His men had become somewhat anxious about him, for he had told them to look for his return by September 20 at the latest, and their supplies were all but exhausted. “I was there by the time appointed but instead of Bringing them the expected supplies I brought them intelligence of my misfortunes.” At any rate, Rogers and the rest of the men were well.
They had passed what hunters call a pleasant Summer not in the least interrupted by indians. The game consisted of some deer and Elk and Antelopes in abundance. They spoke in high terms of the climate.... A party of Spaniards had visited them in the summer having received intelligence of their being in the country from some indians who had gone in to the Missions. They appeared satisfied with the reasons Mr Rodgers gave for his being in the country.
Jedediah stayed two days with his party arranging them for trapping, then taking three men with him, set out for Mission San Jose, seventy miles to the southwest. This was a disagreeable necessity, but as Jedediah says, his “last and only resource [was] to try once more the hospitality of the Californias.” Not unaware that this hospitality might be in some things lacking, he instructed Rogers if worst came to worst to take the party in to the Russian fort at Bodega, up the coast from San Francisco.11
Indians guided Jedediah in to Mission San Jose, where he arrived on the third day, about September 23, 1827.
I rode up in front of the Mission dismounted and walked in. I was met by two reverend fathers. One father [Narciso Durán] belonging to the Mission of St Joseph and the other father [José Viader] of the Mission of Santa Clara. The reverend fathers appeared somewhat confused by my sudden appearance and could not or would not understand me when I endeavored to explain the cause of my being in the country. They did not appear disposed to hear me, and told me I could go no further and soon showed me the way to the guard house. My horses were [taken] away and for two days I could get no satisfaction whatever. They would neither put me in close confinement nor set me at liberty. No provision whatever was made for my subsistence and I should have suffered much had it not been for the kindness of the old overseer, who invited me at each meal to partake with him. My men likewise ate at the same place.
Thus Jedediah’s journal. His third-person letter to General Clark has an angrier bite, saying that on arrival at San Jose he
made known his situation and wants, [and] requested permission to pass through the province to the Governor’s residence.... but instead of complying with his request, he was immediately conveyed to a dirty hovel which they called a guard house, his horses seized and taken away, and only allowed the privilege of writing to the Captain of the Upper Province.
After two days, hearing of an American at Pueblo San Jose by the name of William Welch, Jedediah sent for him, and on his arrival sought an interview with Father Durán. This year Father Durán was not good company—a French visitor observed that “whether he chose the most melancholy works or had eyes only for the most lugubrious passages, he seemed no longer to perceive things except through a funereal veil: never has a soul held less cheerfulness than Fray Narciso’s.”12 Unfortunately there was no easy quitting this sad abode; the only satisfaction the Reverend Father offered was to tell Jedediah that an officer would be up from San Francisco to inquire into his case.
When finally the comandante, Ignacio Martínez, arrived, Jedediah learned that he was to be tried as an intruder, and for claiming the country on the San Joaquin. On inquiry he found that an Indian had been over to the San Joaquin and returned with his own ideas of the intentions of Jedediah’s party.
In the presence of the father [Jedediah says], the indian and my self were confronted, Lieut. Martinos sitting as judge. I put a few questions to him by which I ascertained that he had seen me just before my departure for the Depo and had once been with my party during my absence. But no circumstances could be proved against me and Lieut Martinos instead of punishing me as the father desired Sentenced the indian to a severe flogging, which perhaps he did not deserve.
Father Durán, Jedediah observed shrewdly, “seemed much interested against me for what reason I know not unless perhaps It might be that he was apprehensive of danger to the true faith, for which reason he was anxious to stop my fishing around the country (for so he termed my traveling in their country).” Jedediah adds:
I gave the Lieut to understand my situation and my wants and hinted at my desire to go directly to Monterrey, the present residence of the Governor for I considered this the most expeditious way to get through with my business. He told me I would be obliged to remain at the Mission until an express could go to and return from Monterey. Endeavoring to impress him with an Idea of the importance of despatch I urged him to expedite the business as much as possible. He prevailed on the father to furnish me with a room. After this my meals were sometimes brought to me in my room and sometimes I ate with the overseer as before.
Capt [John Rogers] Cooper, a Bostonian who had married and resided in Monterrey & Mr [Thomas B. Park] supercargo of the Brig Harbinger from Boston, came up in company from Monterrey and remaining at St Joseph 2 days much relieved the anxiety of mind attendent on the uncertainty of my situation. Capt Cooper in particular seemed willing to afford me any assistance in his power. I was detained at St Joseph 12 or 14 days before I received a letter from the Gov and at the same time a guard to accompany me to Monterey.
The journey to Monterey was much like that to San Diego ten months before, but this time there could be no doubt that the four soldiers who made up the escort were a guard rather than a guide. When, near midnight on the third day, they arrived at Monterey, Jedediah was delivered to the calabozo and locked up for the night, unwashed and unfed. Morning brought Captain Cooper with some breakfast and a cheerful countenance, but Jedediah’s frame of mind was not particularly happy when, late in the morning, he was taken to see the Governor.
The tall, gaunt Echeandia met Jedediah at the door, shook hands with him, and passed a few compliments in Spanish, after which they walked through a hall into a portico and sat down. Echeandia began talking in Spanish, but Jedediah interrupted to say that an interpreter would be necessary. The Governor agreed, suggesting that they solicit the services of William Hartnell, an Englishman trading on the coast whose command of French, German and Spanish had made him nearly indispensable to Monterey’s official business.13
Hartnell was not available until evening, and the discussions at that time were not very rewarding. Jedediah found Echeandia “distinguished by the same traits as those that Marked his character when I saw him at San Diego.” He could get nothing out of the Governor except the freedom of the town, the presidio and the harbor; Echeandia agreed, however, to another interview at Hartnell’s house at a later date.
At another time Jedediah might better have appreciated Monterey’s peculiar charm. The low, rounded hills back of the town were overgrown with beautiful dark pines; the blue Pacific creamed along the bay, and between presidio and castillo the forty-odd whitewashed adobe houses which made up the town had a piquant appeal. The townsfolk were warm-hearted and pleasure-loving, foreigners and Californians alike. Jedediah must have responded to the grace and warmth of this life and disapproved of it as well, for the men seemed not at all businesslike, and the women much too free in their language, manners and dress; the touch of the alien lay on everything.
Strolling about the town, Jedediah encountered Daniel Ferguson, who had deserted him at San Gabriel the year before, and John Wilson, the man he had discharged in the Tulares country. Apparently they stood a chance of being accepted into the community. But time hung heavy on his hands. Jedediah was happy, at a second session with the Governor, to come to grips with his problem.
Echeandia began this interview by observing that what the American stated with regard to his business might be true, but he could not believe it. “When you came to San Diego” he said sharply, “you represented the route by which you had come in to California as being a dry barren desert almost impassable and now you have come by the same route again. It is a very circuitous route, and if, as you say, your only object was to strengthen and supply your Appelaminy party, why did you not come directly across to them? And further, when you were defeated and came in so near San Gabriel, why did you not notify me of your arrival?”
Patiently Jedediah explained that it was very true that at San Diego he had represented the route by which he had come in as very bad, but on trial he had found the direct route much worse; in fact, he considered it entirely impassable for a party with loaded horses at that season and perhaps at any. Of two evils, it was natural and politic to choose the least. With regard to the notification the Governor spoke of, he had written a letter to Father Sánchez under the impression it would be forwarded to the Governor immediately.
Not in the least satisfied, Echeandia observed that this was altogether a mysterious business, and he must have time to consider.... The Governor seemed prepared to consider the subject forever, but Jedediah would not leave him in peace, and finally the Governor decided that the young American captain would have to go to Mexico. Jedediah replied that he was ready to leave, the sooner the better; the Governor said that he should go by the first opportunity.
A few days later, hearing that an English whaler was about to sail for Acapulco, Jedediah informed the Governor of the fact. And now Jedediah’s journal rises to a pitch of indignation:
he merely said I might go. I soon found that he was not disposed to put himself to any trouble about it. I asked him if he intended that I should go to Mexico as a prisoner and at my own expense. He said most certainly, if I had the privilege of going in a foreign vessel, but if I would wait two or three months a Mexican Vessel would be going to Acapulco when he might perhaps as a favor from the Capt get a passage for me.
I[t] seemed that this man was placed in power to perplex me and those over whom he was called to govern. That a man in possession of common sense should seriously talk of making a man take himself at his own expense to prison. That he should talk to me of waiting 2 or 3 months for a passage to Acapulco. I plainly told him that on such conditions I would not go. Capt Cooper, knowing that I had no money, supposed that to be the reason why I refused to go and told me the want of money should not hinder me from going. I thanked him, but I told him I would not see Mexico on the terms proposed by his honor the Governor.
During both his visits to California, Jedediah was fortunate in finding friends when he needed them, and now the Englishman, Hartnell, did him a neighborly turn. Hartnell’s opinion had almost the force of law for Echeandia, and he suggested a way Jedediah might be freed without the Governor’s incurring any responsibility. The British law, Hartnell said, allowed four masters of vessels in a foreign port in times of emergency to appoint an agent who could act as consular agent until the home government could be advised of their action. Perhaps the Americans also had such a law. Jedediah says:
[This] seemed to please the governor and he said he would see what could be done. No sooner was the conference ended than I told Capt Cooper of what had passed and also the Masters of the several vessels in port. They were not perfectly satisfied of the legality of the proposition, but thought the urgency of the case would justify the proceeding.
Captain Cooper was appointed agent. Echeandia thereupon proposed that the Captain not only become responsible for Jedediah’s good conduct until he left California but also insure that he should not return again to the country on any pretense whatever. Jedediah would not agree to such a restriction and the Governor let the matter drop.
Meanwhile Jedediah’s party on the Stanislaus had become a source of contention. Echeandia had requested Jedediah to order his party in to Monterey.
I told him they were nearer St Francisco than that place and he remarked that they might go in there. I therefore wrote to Mr Rodgers that it was the Governor[’s] request that they should come in, and at the same time hinted at the treatment I had received. This I knew was sufficient for Mr Rodgers, who from what had passed between us would go in to Bodega. I carried the letter to the Gen1 unsealed. He had it translated and took a day or two to consider its contents, then sent for me and said he was afraid to send such a letter for I had not ordered Mr. Rodgers positively to come in and that I had discouraged him from coming in from the manner in which I had spoken of the usage I had received at the same time he observed he would be verry sorry that his soldiers should have any difficulty with my party. I told him I thought what I had written verry reasonable but that if he would give me a copy I would write again. He said he could not do that. After getting the promise of the Govenor that they should not be imprisoned and should be furnished with provision I wrote to Mr Rodgers directing him to come in to San Francisco. The soldiers who carried the letters went by way of St. Joseph and one of my men accompanied them. Notwithstanding what the Gen1 had said about his soldiers and the smallness of my party I think he did not wish to have my party try their rifles on his soldiers, for there was some terrible stories in circulation about the shooting of my men. It was said they were sure of their mark at any distance.14
As an added complication, news came in from the south that another party of Americans were in the Tulares country. Jedediah assured the Governor that no Americans were there, but in this case rumor had a foundation in reality, for this must have been the party of Richard Campbell from New Mexico, the first to penetrate to California after Jedediah Smith. Campbell had brought in a company of thirty-five men in a journey which ended at San Diego; he reached the Colorado by way of the Little Colorado, but not much more is known about this venture, which presumably was provided with Mexican papers and met with no such trouble as Jedediah experienced.15
A letter arrived from Rogers announcing that the party had come in safely to San Francisco, and with Echeandia’s permission, Jedediah wrote Thomas Virgin to come up from below and join him. On November 7 Jedediah called on Echeandia in company with Captain Cooper, who gave the Governor a written certificate setting forth the reasons which had brought Jedediah to California, outlining his needs and offering to become responsible for his conduct.
On these conditions, Echeandia said, he would give Jedediah three choices. He could wait until orders could be had from Mexico; he could go to Mexico himself; or he could go away with such men as he had in the same direction by which he had come in. Jedediah believed that by insisting on his traveling the same route and by preventing him from hiring more men Echeandia thought to retain him in the country until he could receive orders from Mexico. “But I told his excellency I would go if I had but 2 men.” Echeandia bowed and said he would make a memorandum of what Captain Cooper must become responsible for.
While waiting on the Governor’s convenience, Jedediah agreed with the master of the ship Franklin to sell his beaver at $2.50 per pound. If that was less than its value even in the mountains, it spared Jedediah the trouble and expense of transport, and more to the point, he needed money to outfit his party.
The bond was made and signed on November 12. In this document Captain Cooper guaranteed the good conduct and behavior of his countryman. It was agreed that in returning to “the settlement called the Salt Lake deposit,” Jedediah would take the road from Mission San Jose by way of Carquinez Straits and Bodega, and that “under no condition will he delay on the way a longer time than is necessary, and that having reached his destination, he will make no hostile excursion, and will make no trip toward the coast or in the region of his establishment south of the 42nd parallel not authorized by his Government in accord with the latest treaties, unless he has a legal passport expressly [permitting it] from one or the other of the aforesaid Governments.” 16
Once the four copies of the bond had been signed, Echeandia requested a list of such things as Jedediah wished to purchase. He objected to none of the articles save horses and mules; about these there was some difficulty, but finally he gave permission. Gladly, on November 15, 1827, Jedediah received his passport and went on board the Franklin. The passport had been a laborious attainment, and Jedediah’s eye would have run gratefully over its meager provision for his further journey:
I hereby grant free and safe passport to Captain Smith, in order that, accompanied by the seventeen men he brought under his command, he may return to his settlement, each man carrying his own fusil or gun; a total of seventy-five pounds of powder and one hundred and twenty-five pounds of lead, five loads of clothing, and other goods, six loads of provisions, two loads of merchandise for the Indians, one load of tobacco, and other loads comprising the equipment he brought; a total of one hundred mules and one hundred and fifty horses.
José Ma de Echeandia.17
At 2:00 P.M. on November 15 the Franklin sailed for San Francisco. Jedediah was soon seasick, and a gale that came on three hours after sailing made him still more unhappy. By nightfall next day the ship was off the Bay of San Francisco, but the wind being contrary, she stood off until noon of the seventeenth. There were, Jedediah says, seven sail in the harbor at the time. He called on Don Luis Argüello, formerly governor of California and now comandante at San Francisco, who seemed satisfied with his passport. Rogers and the men were well, though they had not been properly provisioned. They had received many courtesies from Henry Virmond, a German trading under the Mexican flag.
Next day, November 18, Jedediah had his furs taken on board the Franklin; they totaled 1,568 pounds of beaver and 10 otter skins. He received for the beaver $3,920, and for the otter pelts perhaps another $20; this was all he had to show for the hunt of three full seasons, and he was not yet clear of California.
From November 18 to 22 Jedediah was busy preparing his goods and trotting back and forth from ship to party to presidio. With the captain of the Franklin, he was invited to dine on board H. M. S. Blossom, the sloop of war in which Captain F. W. Beechey this year had made a distinguished exploration of the Northwest Coast; he was so long detained in business with Argüello as to be unable to attend, but some account of him got into the British journals nonetheless. The British officers had first met Jedediah while at Monterey, when James Wolfe wrote:
There was in the Praesidio a Mr. Smith, chief of a party, attached to a company of fur merchants at Kentucky, who had crossed the continent and being obliged to put into the missions, for supplies, had been taken up on suspicion of being a spy from the United States Government. On leaving the deposit of St. Louis, on the Mississipi they made a westerly route across the Missouri territory, and after traversing the Chain called the Rocky mountains arrived at the Colorado River where they were treacherously attacked by a tribe of Indians whose friendship they had apparently gained by presents. The attack was made while in the act of crossing the River on rafts assisted by the Indians who observing that all the fire arms were on the headmost raft took the advantage of the opportunity to murder eight men & two women, and to plunder.
Mr. Smith describes the country to the Eastward of the Rocky Mountains as very fertile and abounding in Game in short affording all the desiderata for habitation from the great plenty not only of animal, but also of vegetable life. To the westward of this Chain which is itself a most formidable barrier, lie vast sand deserts, in traversing which they became so straitened for provisions as to be obliged to eat their dogs & horses. They travelled in rather a large cavalcade, each individual is necessarily a good shot with his rifle performing as we were told the feat of William Tell frequently for pastime.
When first brought in to the Praesidio Mr. Smith was treated as an already convicted criminal, and put into close confinement, Mr. Cooper however who was a merchant settled here and a fellow countryman became bond in his own person for the safety of Mr. Smith, and took him to live at his house. Several applications were made to the Governor to release him that he might return with his party (who also were confined in the Praesidio of San Francisco), but the Governor would not allow it until he had heard from Mexico, at the same time that he gave him liberty to quit the country by sea whenever he pleased. Mr. Cooper however at length bound himself in all that he possessed that, if Mr. S. should be permitted to return with his party, they should make the best of their way out of the Mexican dominions, without staying to hunt within the territory, and on these terms Mr. S. left for San Francisco, whither the reduced state of our stock of water obliged us to follow him.
Mr. Smith who had been some time here [San Francisco] making the necessary preparations took his departure during our stay. Mr. Smyth was present when the party left the praesidio, the cavalcade consisted of 16 men well armed and mounted, with about 60 horses to carry baggage, and as relays presenting rather a formidable appearance. Mr. Smith seemed to think very lightly of his trip across the continent, and spoke with great acrimony of his long and unjust detention.18
This departure observed with so much interest by the British artist William Smyth took place November 26. As he could not get his work done at San Francisco, Jedediah had obtained Argüello’s permission to move on to Mission San Jose, as that was on his line of march out of the settlements. The horses had nearly starved while at San Francisco, but Jedediah “got them up and moved off in the direction of St Jose.” He reached there on the twenty-eighth and made arrangements with Father Durán to use the mission smithy for a week, also engaging a room for himself and two small rooms for his men.
A busy period of preparation followed. On December 6 Isaac Galbraith showed up. Jedediah must have bought some beaver from him, for before leaving San Jose he executed a promissory note in Galbraith’s favor for $202.50.19 Galbraith brought no news of Thomas Virgin, about whom Jedediah was beginning to be anxious. On the thirteenth, however—
Mr. Virgin arrived. He had been imprisoned for some time and frequently without anything to eat and strictly forbidden to speak to any one. and abused in almost every way.20 On the 5th the Gen1 on his way to St. Barbara saw him, released him and instructed the fathers to forward him on to St. Joseph. He was much rejoiced to see us and I am sure I was quite glad to see the old man again.
Happy to have an old friend delivered out of the hands of “Spanish cruelty,” Jedediah by now was prepared to believe anything of this strange people who dwelt along the California coast, even that they had instigated or ordered the Mojaves to fall upon his party; everywhere he turned, he saw the iron hand of oppression, and all in the name of republican government and the true faith. He asked nothing of California now but to be quit of it.
By Christmas Day he was in shape to take the trail. He rode to San Francisco to make the necessary final arrangements with Argüello, for it had been stipulated that he should cross to the north shore of the Bay of San Francisco at the Straits of Carquinez, and Argüello had been ordered to detail ten soldiers to see Jedediah out of the territory.
The time which the Gen1 had given me to remain was nearly expired [Jedediah explains] but I found it entirely impossible to procure a Launch to take me across the river [strait] without which it was impassible.... In this situation I made no doubt that Don Lewis [Luis Argüello] would consent that I should go up the River until I could find a place where I could swim my horses and carry my goods over on a raft which could not be done at the mouth. But he would hear nothing of this proposition but insisted that I should cross at the particular place directed by the Gen1. I then told him to furnish the boat and I was ready to cross. This he could not do but said I must wait untill the Gen1 could be advised of the situation of things and give further instructions. I apparently acquiesced but left him with a determination fixed to take my own course without waiting for their tardy movements which the situation of my finances would not permit.
Back he rode to his party at Mission San Jose. There Jedediah sat down and wrote Echeandia and Argüello what he intended doing; and he also wrote the American minister at Mexico City complaining of the harsh treatment he had received. (This was not the end of the letter writing; the annoyed Echeandia on January 29 wrote his government complaining of the criminal conduct of “Smith, the fisherman’s company.” In Mexico City the Secretary of State, availing himself of the occasion to transmit the assurance of his distinguished consideration and respect, expressed confidence that the American minister would undertake such corrective measures as might be applicable.) 21
With all this behind him, on December 30, 1827, Jedediah set out with his party in the rain. Having been so long absent from the business of trapping and so much harassed by the folly of men in power, Jedediah “returned again to the woods, the river, the prairae, the Camp & the Game with a feeling somewhat like that of a prisoner escaped from his dungeon and his chains.”