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All rights reserved, including duplication of any kind or storage in electronic or visual retrieval systems. Permission is granted for writers to use a limited number of brief excerpts and quotations in printed reviews, magazine articles, and coin catalogues, provided credit is given to the title of the work and the author. Written permission is required for other uses, including in books, any use of illustrations, and any use of any information or illustrations in electronic or other media. In many instances modern quoted material from other sources is the property of the respective copyright holders.

The author expresses appreciation to the following contributors who have helped in the ways indicated.

Bowers and Merena Galleries Credits

zzzzzTo be done—a paragraph or two from each of these individuals welcoming the reader to the book, expressing enthusiasm for the book, and mentioning their contributions to the recovery of the treasure and also the modern-day events of distribution and education.

On her way from Panama to New York City in 1857, the sidewheel steamer S.S. Central America encountered an unexpected hurricane. After being tossed by mountainous seas for several days, on the night of September 12 the 278-foot, 2,141-ton vessel slipped below the waves. Carried to a watery grave in nearly 8,500 feet of water 200 miles off the coast of North Carolina were about 425 men, with only 153 survivors—mostly women and children passengers.

By 1857, the California Gold Rush was in its mature era, the output of precious metal having peaked in 1853. Coins from the San Francisco Mint (which had opened in 1854) and from several private coiners, as well as gold bars, were shipped on a regular basis from California to the East, particularly to New York City, from which point the gold went to banks, the United States Assay Office, and to the Philadelphia Mint, among other destinations, including transshipment to London, the center of the world gold market.

The typical itinerary for such gold was by sidewheel steamer from San Francisco, southward in the Pacific Ocean to Panama, at which point the treasure was transferred to the 48-mile-long Panama Railroad for its journey across the Isthmus. On the Atlantic side of the Isthmus, a connection was made with another steamer at the newly built town of Aspinwall (later named Colon) for transport to New York City or another port.

This is the story of one of the Atlantic-side steamers, at first known as the S.S. George Law, then as the S.S. Central America, and her 44th voyage, her crew and passengers, and an estimated $1,600,000 (1857 value) of gold coins and ingots listed on the manifest, plus additional treasure in the hands of her passengers.

Fast forward to 1986, when a group of daring modern-day adventurers, organized in Columbus, Ohio, as the Columbus-America Discovery Group (C-ADG), mounted an academic study combined with a search at sea and located the long-lost "ship of gold" (as it has been characterized in modern accounts). For Tommy Thompson, Robert Evans, and Barry Schatz, founders of C-ADG, the saga was just beginning—and would be played out in a set of fascinating circumstances, culminating in 2000 with the first sale of gold coins and bars from the ship, by which time Dwight Manley and his California Gold Marketing Group had been given a supporting role.

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In the nearly 15 years since the discovery of the ship and much of its gold treasure, several books have been written on the subject. The first was Story of an American Tragedy. Survivors’ Accounts of the Sinking of the Steamship CENTRAL AMERICA, compiled by Judy Conrad of C-ADG, a valuable archive which has been utilized extensively in the present work. The second was Normand Klare’s impressive study, The Final Voyage of the Central America 1857, a volume which can be called definitive regarding the ship. Third was Ship of Gold, by Gary Kinder, which made the best-seller lists and which concentrated upon the successful efforts of the C-ADG in recovering the treasure. The fourth, America’s Lost Treasure: A Pictorial Chronicle of the Sinking and Recovery of the United States Mail Steamship Central America, by Tommy Thompson, brought to print many photographs from the Gold Rush era and the early days of the ship, plus scenes of the C-ADG recovery, accompanied by a fascinating narrative.

The present book draws upon contemporary documents, references, and accounts, plus later books, plus the author’s numismatic research, to present to the reader a history of the Gold Rush and the S.S. Central America with especial focus on numismatic considerations—the stories behind the glittering double eagles and the golden bars and ingots—with relatively little of this information duplicated by the earlier S.S. Central America books mentioned.

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In the present text there are many descriptions and accounts involving gambling establishments—from tents to glittering palaces—and other places where cards were turned in games of monte and faro, and roulette wheels spun—for those are the accounts that tell of $5 half eagles in little piles and heavy $50 "slugs." Were I to relate an equal number of stories about churches and libraries—of which there were many in California in the Gold Rush era—I am afraid that scarcely a coin would be mentioned! Of course, the present and quite correct emphasis also ties in nicely with the modern popular themes of Wells, Fargo & Co. and their stagecoaches, the "Wild West," shootouts and lynchings, and other such stuff. Indeed, any number of true events related in the following pages could, with little effort, be adapted to an absorbing Hollywood script!

J.D. Borthwick, an English writer, commented on the coin situation in California in 1851:

Another account, this one of Sacramento, suggests that while coins might have been scarce in hotels or mercantile establishments, they could be found at gaming tables, in this instance a 50-foot canvas-covered casino known as the Round Tent, a major attraction in that city:

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The old saying, "truth can be stranger than fiction," certainly applies to the Gold Rush. You will read about a safe in an office on a San Francisco dock being lowered by a burglar through a hole he had cut in the floor—to a waiting boat below—only to be chased and captured and—what else?—"tried" by the Vigilante Committee and strung up by a rope. You will read about a little gold-mining camp first called Bedbug, then Freezeout, then, with a degree of respect, Ione—from a character in a classic story (The Last Days of Pompeii). You will read about coins and coiners—and would-be coiners, such as the new arrival in San Francisco who wrote to the East in autumn 1849 to state that all private minting opportunities had already been exploited by others (and, just to think, such firms as Wass, Molitor & Co. and Kellogg & Co. had not started business yet!).

Perhaps more than anything, the saga of the California Gold Rush is one of people, the human experience from triumph to tragedy, of failure and of success, of Forty-Niners, assayers, S.S. Central America passengers, and others—from obscure to famous. Human nature is displayed in all of its elements—kindness, lust, sacrifice, endurance, cupidity, hope, sadness, love, animosity, altruism, greed. No two experiences were identical. Franklin A. Buck, from Maine, enjoyed the "westward the star of empire takes its way" experience immensely, as reflected in his letters. Stephen C. Massett, a brilliant man and gifted humorist in the decade before Mark Twain became well known, loved California—you can tell from reading his stories, factual as well as satirical. On the other hand, any pleasures that California might have offered seem to have eluded English writer Hinton R. Helper, for whom every sky seems to have had a storm, every golden moment some tarnish.

Recording the California experience, called "seeing the elephant" in a popular phrase of the day, were dozens of travelers by land and sea, as well as preachers, pedagogues, and physicians who told of life in the towns and cities of the Land of Gold. One particular writer, whose book gave details of how bad gambling hells (as they were called) and such San Francisco places were, reveals to the modern reader that he certainly did his research homework, as he visited some places multiple times, and in a related context, knew by name a list of "ladies of the night."

It is anticipated that museums, collectors, and others who have acquired or will obtain gold coins and ingots from the S.S. Central America will appreciate the history of the pieces they own. For that reason, special attention has been paid in the following text to describe life in San Francisco—home of most minters and assayers. Equally essential were the many outlying cities, towns, and camps, where such pieces were used and, in some instances (Sacramento and Marysville), certain gold ingots for the S.S. Central America were made.

No single account can capture the experience of the overland trail, or the voyage around Cape Horn, or the jaunt across the jungles of Panama, or life on a sandbar in the American River—panning for gold dust and nuggets. Gathered together, a group of such narratives becomes, as historian Oscar Lewis said, "the autobiography of the West." In the present text, such parallel accounts can be read and savored, or skimmed quickly—as you prefer, perhaps returning to them at a later time, as most stand on their own and are stories in themselves.

I hope that a wide circle of historians, numismatists, and armchair adventurers will have a "you are there" experience of San Francisco during the glory days of the Gold Rush and aboard the Central America herself—for this is the ship and treasure that have captivated the interest and imagination of the nation. The aforementioned books, television presentations on all major networks, the display of the "Ship of Gold" treasure and artifacts by the California Gold Marketing Group, and talks and seminars have made this ship and this treasure a focal point for everyone. Take, for example, the experience of Dr. C.J., who visited the Ship of Gold exhibit, was captivated, bought an 1857-S double eagle from the treasure, and at last word is well on the way to becoming a serious numismatist. What a way to start!

Never before in the annals of early shipwrecks has a ship and the search for its treasure been so thoroughly documented. Along the way, adventure and excitement prevail—not through the work of fiction writers, but through the presentation of historical facts. Indeed, the truth of the S.S. Central America handily outdoes anything the most imaginative writer could have created!

•

My own involvement with the S.S. Central America treasure began in a casual way in the late 1980s when I, along with the rest of the coin-collecting community, learned the startling news that several scientists and their crew, known as the Columbus-America Discovery Group, had found a king’s ransom in gold coins and gold bars at the bottom of the Atlantic.

In the beginning, rumors were aplenty. Then, in 1988, Judy Conrad’s study, Story of an American Tragedy, brought the ship into focus. Two years later, in July 1990, Walter Breen, one of the nation’s leading numismatic scholars, was invited to view parts of the treasure. His article, "The S.S. Central America: Tragedy and Treasure," published in The Numismatist, July 1990, provided a numismatic appetizer—as he described glittering gem 1857-S double eagles and other coins, as well as several varieties of gold bars—all the stuff of which numismatic dreams are made. The authoritative annual reference, A Guide Book of United States Coins, devoted an illustrated section to the bars and described varieties that were previously unknown.

In 1999 the Columbus-America Discovery Group transferred much of its interest to the California Gold Marketing Group headed by Dwight Manley, while a small percentage was given to successors to the interest of certain insurance companies holding policies on the ship when it sank. I was tapped to write the present book, and my firm, Bowers and Merena Galleries, created much of the printed information used in the distribution of numismatic items from the ship—a process which continues.

At the American Numismatic Association Convention in Philadelphia in the summer of 2000, the "Ship of Gold" exhibit was mounted with coins and bars from the treasure ship, plus many early photographs, broadsides, and other information. The reaction of the public was enthusiastic, and for most of the time during the days of the show there were lines of people waiting their turn to glimpse the objects of gold. When the registration rolls were checked, over 20,000 people had attended the event—an all-time record for the Association. Not long thereafter, the "Ship of Gold" was put on display at the California State Fair in Sacramento, and 70,000 members of the general public "oohed" and "ahhed."

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Gold! As a numismatic researcher and writer, and as a rare coin dealer, I have always appreciated gold coins—particularly since one day in the early 1950s, when I purchased a large, heavy, impressive, and exciting 1855-S $20 gold piece, the first American gold coin I ever owned. I found it incredible that such a coin existed—and as I contemplated it, all sorts of images fleeted through my imagination. Here was a coin from San Francisco, from the Gold Rush, Americana at its finest. I was so excited that I could not help but wonder why everyone did not want to own such a coin. Numismatically, the piece graded, perhaps, EF or AU, and was not particularly rare. But how romantic it was!

Several years later, I began an intense study of the Gold Rush and its history—eventually visiting Coloma (where Sutter’s Mill was once located), Volcano, Mokelumne Hill, Marysville, Mount Ophir, Dutch Flat, and other towns and sites in the Sierra Nevada, the places that years earlier teemed with fortune hunters. As the years passed, I went to other sites important in American gold history, including camps high in the Rocky Mountains, the Comstock Lode in Nevada, even to the mostly forgotten and never very important gold sites on the Great Ammonusic River (not far from where I live).

My "library" on California gold began about 1953 or 1954 with a copy of Edgar H. Adams’ 1913 study on early private coinage of that state and soon grew to include all of the numismatic references I could find. My search for obscure historical and geological texts began in earnest with a 1948 survey, The Mother Lode Country, issued by the California State Highway Department, a copy of which was given to me on March 12, 1961, by John J. Ford, Jr. (as I wrote on the flyleaf at that time). This volume delineated Route 49, which today runs through the California gold district, showing towns and mining locations as they then appeared—usually with only a few dilapidated structures remaining, or nothing at all.

By that time I had casually traveled Route 49 in 1958, in the company of a friend, youthful collector and coin dealer Ken Rendell (who in 1961 left the rare coin field, and who today is recognized as one of the world’s most important dealers in rare autographs, manuscripts, and books). Later, I was to traverse Route 49 on several other occasions, subsequently writing about my experiences (as in Adventures with Rare Coins, 1979, and the "Secret of the Sierra" for The Numismatist).

Year by year, whenever I found an old book or Treasury report or study on the California Gold Rush, I bought it—if the price was affordable. I was no Henry H. Clifford—whose library of original printed material from the Gold Rush was stunning, and many of whose California coins I later handled—but I did get nearly all of the standard printed references and later studies. I also acquired original or (most often) microfiche or microfilm copies of San Francisco, Sacramento, and other early directories. My library grew to the point at which now, in the year 2000, I could probably write a multi-volume series on the Gold Rush just by using my own archives. However, there is always more to be discovered—particularly in connection with a special focus or project such as the S.S. Central America. As a result, I learned much while writing the present book, with the great assistance of those who are credited in the Acknowledgments.

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Along the way, I have enjoyed handling many rare gold coins, including most of the known rarities from the San Francisco Mint as well as from the private coiners of that city. Such coins were struck for use in the commerce of their time, and, nearly always, specimens show signs of wear, often extensive. Regarding gold ingots, these are rara avis, and over the years only a few have ever come on the market. Except for some coins (but not large gold bars) saved by Jacob R. Eckfeldt and William E. Dubois circa 1850 for the Mint Cabinet, there was little numismatic interest California coins and ingots in the mid-19th century. Accordingly, by the time that Western numismatic America became popular in a large way with collectors, the vast majority of the Gold Rush coins from the 1850s, and nearly all of the gold ingots, had long since disappeared.

The discovery of gold coins and bars from the wreck of the S.S. Central America was, and is, almost unbelievable. It was like going in a time machine back to 1857 and viewing—and being able to acquire—thousands of freshly-minted gold coins and over 400 gold ingots.

We are fortunate that the finding of the S.S. Central America treasure occurred in our lifetime. I will always consider my slight involvement a highlight of my numismatic career.

I am grateful that the S.S. Central America coins have provided me another opportunity to read old accounts, mostly from the Gold Rush era itself, plus dozens of newly acquired or discovered sources, to appreciate once again the effect that the discovery of gold in quantity in California has had on the history of our nation. Generous use has been made of 19th century source material—quoting letters, newspaper accounts, survivors’ stories and more—as I believe this is more interesting and valuable to the reader than interpretations or paraphrasing and allows those who have this book to more directly share the enthusiasm I felt when I first encountered these narratives.

Perhaps, as I believe I do, you will know exactly what it was like to walk into the chandeliered El Dorado gambling hall in San Francisco in 1850, or spend a night in the seaside town of Chagres, or to shovel some gravel at Mormon Bar, or to estimate the distance from your wagon to Cathedral Rock, or to watch Desiré Marchand make and stamp a gold ingot in Sacramento.

Enjoy!

---Q. David Bowers

Wolfeboro, New Hampshire

September 28, 2000

After initial publication of Gold Rush stories in the East in the final days of summer, 1848, some slight interest was generated. From the Massachusetts port of Salem, the brig Mary and Ellen, Captain Eggleston in command, sailed for California on October 27, 1848, followed by the bark Eliza, under Captain Augustus Stainford Perkins, on November 23. The bark John W. Coffin (Captain Martin) sailed from Boston on December 7, followed soon thereafter by the Saltillo (Captain Rich) and the Carib Captain Webb).

Someone composed a song for the Eliza, loosely adapted from Oh! Susanna:

Variations on the preceding were countless—adapted to different ships, places, and people. By any account Oh! Susanna was the Forty-Niners’ theme song on land and sea.

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While single travelers sometimes went via the Panama shortcut—if passage could be found—a big if—many gold seekers banded together, laid plans as a group, and approached the situation as a business and management challenge—seeking economies of size and the security of known companionship.

The plan was simplicity itself: Men and supplies would be loaded at Boston, Nantucket, New York, or some other eastern port, and after some months of travel south down the Atlantic Ocean, around Cape Horn, and north up the Pacific, everything would be offloaded at San Francisco. Along the way there would be a few enjoyable stops—Rio de Janeiro for sure, and perhaps even Robinson Crusoe’s island.

Hundreds of companies and partnerships were formed along the East Coast. With money pooled from their members, these groups chartered their own ships and stowed aboard vast quantities of provisions including sacks filled with flour, barrels of preserved pork brought to eastern towns from Cincinnati, containers of spices, barrels of salted beef and dried biscuits, hundreds of books and many decks of cards for shipboard amusement, and more. It was better to overstock than to be deprived at the destination, it was thought, and if something had a remote chance of being useful, it was purchased.

There was also the prevailing notion that any surplus could be sold for a handsome profit upon arrival in the new El Dorado, for gold was said to be plentiful and commodities scarce. It was easy to imagine arriving in San Francisco with a few extra barrels of flour, or boxes of tobacco, and exchanging them on the spot for a bag stuffed with nuggets.

One thing that cargo ships had was a lot of space in their holds—and, thus, travelers by sea could take tons of equipment. This was not as easily done by travelers connecting at Panama, for bungos on the Chagres River were small and had difficulty accommodating more than a few cases and trunks.

In the waning days of 1848 and the early weeks of 1849, while negotiating for a ship or other transportation, members of the companies met regularly to discuss gold. As one historian wrote:

Interestingly, only a minority of gold-seekers traveled by ship on their solo account during spring 1849. Especially by sea, but also via overland trails, most Easterners banded into groups to share the travel experience and, upon arrival, the expected wealth.

Often these companies would have charters, lengthy by-laws, and lists of duties for their members. Many selected officers, either along lines of the military—with a captain, lieutenants, and the like—or in the corporate manner, with a president, secretary, treasurer, and a full board of directors.

Some armchair investors who preferred to remain at home, but who wanted to partake of the golden opportunity, financed the travel and supplies of others. "One Boston gentleman paid the expenses of 12 young men on the ship Lanerk; another outfitted a company of 25."

In 1849, 102 stock companies sailed from Massachusetts alone, among these being the Massachusetts & California Co. (later discussed), the hopes of which included the production of gold coins. The number of participants in such confederations ranged from as few as five to as many as 180.

The Hartford Union Mining & Trading Co., out of Connecticut, included among its regulations the provision that members must return to the firm’s ship each night to deposit in a sturdy safe the gold gathered during the day—never mind reality, that in the foothills of the Sierras where gold was found in quantity, the nearest ship anchorage of importance was on the distant Sacramento River.

Another partnership planned for the possibility that so much gold might be found that its ship might be in danger of sinking from the weight of the treasure, in which instance some of the bullion was to be left in California under guard until proper arrangements could be perfected for shipment to the East.

Several groups, upon hearing that accommodations in San Francisco were scarce, planned to moor their ships as floating hotels until their partners went inland to the gold fields and set up camp, after which the vessels would be sold for a handsome profit. Little thought was given to the possibility that few people would want to buy a leaky old ship to travel somewhere—as everyone had already arrived.

The North Western Mining & Trading Co., sailing out of Massachusetts, outfitted its "22 wealthy and aristocratic young men from Boston and vicinity" in smart uniforms and, with a budget from shares sold at $1,000 per partner, fitted its ship, the Orb, with fine accommodations and a gourmet menu. Unfortunately, the cargo was badly stowed, the ship leaked, and the vessel had to put into the port of Rio de Janeiro, far from its intended destination, where many goods were sold in order to lighten the load. One hundred and twenty-two days after leaving New England, the Orb sailed into San Francisco Bay

Considering themselves to be wiser than most were members of a few companies that sailed with extra merchandise for trading. While handsome profits were made for goods that were, indeed, in short supply, in the East at the time of departure in 1849, there were few facts concerning actual demand.

The earlier-mentioned flour and tobacco were popular trading goods to load aboard, as were preserved meats, furniture, tents, and mining equipment. Few realized that so many others were thinking the same thing, that household furniture, heavy iron ware, flour, and tobacco were so abundant that there was little market for them. Foodstuffs often spoiled, necessitating their being thrown overboard en route or discarded upon arrival in San Francisco.

If only they the Easterners had known that luxury goods rather than staples of life, could be sold for high profits to successful miners. Jewelry, whiskey, fine tools, and fancy items seem to have been in strong demand. If anyone had thought to send a ship with a cargo of whiskey, the return would have exceeded that of even the richest mining claim!

To while away the time at sea and to make goods to be sold to great advantage upon arrival, travelers aboard one ship, the Capitol, which left Boston on January 23, 1849, with 248 passengers, set up various enterprises:

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The number of Americans who departed in 1848 by sea from various eastern and gulf ports for the California via ship is not known, but is believed to have been fewer than 1,000 souls by New Year’s Eve, December 31, 1848. Many of these voyagers were not hunting for gold, but were experienced traders in the traditional manner—with goods to trade at Monterey, San Francisco, and other ports, in exchange for hides, tallow, and other products.

Those who formed partnerships and companies could not do it overnight, as money had to be raised, arrangements needed to be made for leaving families and businesses, and there were other delays. Although the S.S. Falcon had initiated New York to Chagres steamship service under the American flag, only the inaugural trip had taken place, and as yet the arrangements were still being perfected, mostly for single travelers and very small groups. There were no "Gold Steamer to Panama!" or "Fastest Clipper to San Francisco!" advertisements—yet.

Organized companies sought their own vessels, and beginning in December 1848, it was a sellers’ market for anything that could float.

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All along the eastern seaboard, able-bodied men left their wives and families behind and headed for California, often as members of companies, hoping to return within a year or two with a fortune, after which life would be filled with many material comforts. Families were not taken along, and thus only a few organized companies of gold seekers included a woman. This would change in 1850, but for 1849 it was the general rule. On the overland trails, families were occasionally seen, but not often. Again, in later years more women and youngsters would travel west, once men had evaluated the territory.

From Plymouth, Massachusetts, a fifth of the registered voters had departed by ship by mid-January. Similarly, in seaside towns in Maine, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and other eastern states, citizens who for all of their lives had watched the coming and going of merchant, fishing, whaling, and other ships, now themselves bought passage and headed to sea. For them, this was the only way to go—the alternative being to travel to Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, or some other Ohio River port, go downriver to the Mississippi, then overland from St. Joseph or Independence—seemingly a clumsy, complicated arrangement. Besides, travel by sea offered the convenience of boarding at Boston, Providence, Baltimore, or some other seaport, and then stepping off of the same ship in San Francisco.

Among the no-women-allowed exceptions was a group organized by Captain George Kimball, of Frankfort, Maine. The outfit is said to have built its own ship, 144 feet long, 30 feet wide, and 15 feet deep, The California Packet, which was launched on December 29, 1849:

Another exception of a different kind was made by the venture of Mrs. Farnham, who had been a matron in charge of women prisoners at Sing Sing in New York. She chartered the Angelique and endeavored to sign up a large group of women to pay $200 each to go to San Francisco, where, until accommodations could be found on shore, they would be allowed to live aboard the ship moored in the harbor. Unfortunately for the males at the other end of the itinerary, the California Association of American Women, as it was called, failed to attract any members except for Mrs. Farnham, one maiden, and two widows, who sailed on the Angelique in the company of 15 men.

Vessels that had been abandoned years earlier were hastily refitted to sail for California, while the owners of whalers and coastwise passenger ships changed their business plans, added bunks and other accommodations, and sold tickets to the long list of waiting travelers. Historian Oscar :Lewis commented:

Lewis further told of a group in New Orleans whose members purchased a "sorry-looking craft" named the Alhambra and engaged the perhaps appropriately-named Captain Coffin to man her helm, never mind his comments that "I found here completely run out of tackle, and rotten fore and aft." After spending $10,000 to recopper her bottom and make a few repairs, the partnership boarded 200 gold seekers and began a 15,000-mile trip to the land of promise.

All along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts, small ships that had never been far from home were now set to brave the waves of the open Atlantic and to go around the tip of the Cape Horn. Little thought was given to the danger involved, and anyone who raised a voice in objection was apt to be disregarded. All prospects were golden, and there was no place for naysayers.

Captains and mates of small fishing boats all of a sudden found themselves at the helm of large vessels headed into waters unknown to them. The captains’ bravado and the appearance of authority helped assure the passengers at the outset, but later in the voyage the passengers often complained of incompetence. The officers became the focal point of complaints of conditions ranging from poor food to lack of forward progress in light or contrary winds. There are several accounts of a captain and crew being a sorry lot, and spending most of their hours in a drunken stupor.

Clipper ships, the majestic queens of the sea which were built for travel over long distances, such as New York City to China, were soon put into service to San Francisco, and advertised as the fastest, safest way to get there. And, indeed, a clipper might make the run in 100 to 120 days, as contrasted to nearly three times as long for a small sailing ship that was not built for speed and which had to make stops along the coast for provisions. Under good conditions in the open sea, clipper ships were considerably faster than steamships.

Urgency was prime in everyone’s mind. There was not a month, not a week, not a day to lose—or else others might take most of the gold, leaving only residue. Dangers were forgotten and all caution was thrown to the winds.

The whaling ports on the island of Nantucket, off the coast of Massachusetts, and New Bedford on the coast caught the gold fever, as per these accounts:

January 3, 1849:

January 22, 1849:

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Although the mail steamship companies had full passenger loads, during the first year of mass emigration to California most who went by sea took the long way around—south on the Atlantic Ocean, around Cape Horn, and north in the Pacific to San Francisco.

Depending upon the route, the length of stops along the way, the strength of the winds, and the construction of the ship, the voyage usually took from five to nine months, sometimes even longer—as in the case of the bark Mazeppa, which departed New York City on January 27, 1849, and reached San Francisco on December 2.

Experienced captains who had been in the Pacific knew that it was often necessary to take a longer but faster course, and go far to the west, distant from the coast, to catch the best winds to then sail eastward into Mexico or California. However, men with such knowledge were few, and even the Pacific Mail Steamship Co. had to utilize captains who had never commanded a vessel in that stretch of ocean.

In the annals of Argonauts of the era, the experience of Mrs. D.B. Bates is particularly star-crossed. In her journey from the East to California with her husband, she had the ill fortune to be on board three ships that burned—the Nonantum, Humanyoon, and Fanchon. However, at long last she reached San Francisco and spent time there and in mining camps.

It could have been worse. Some ships sailing around Cape Horn were wrecked or sank—lost at sea without a trace.

Leaving a port along the Atlantic seacoast or New Orleans, the typical sailing ship headed into the open sea. The cold winter season did not matter for those in the North, and eager gold seekers left Boston, New York City, and other ports in January and February. For them, the first leg of the journey was apt to be frigid and bitter, but only for a week or two, until warmer climes were reached off the coast from South Carolina to Florida, the last being tropical in its lower latitudes.

For the first several weeks of the voyage, times were happy aboard most ships. The food was still fresh, spirits were high, and the wind in northern latitudes sped the travelers along on their course. New friendships were made, ideas exchanged, and good spirits prevailed. Many hours were spent singing familiar melodies, playing backgammon or checkers, and dealing cards. Books and magazines were read, discussed, and swapped. Debates and discussions were held. Many travelers found new friends among their company members and savored an exclusivity and camaraderie like that of a private club.

Similar to the situation on mail steamers, on ships headed around Cape Horn live animals were carried. In corners and niches of the main deck, but sometimes in their own sheds, were chickens, pigs, sheep, goats, and a cow or two or three, a ready source of fresh meat. These creatures provided diversions and became pets of a sort, were given names, and played with by the passengers. As time went on, the number of animals dwindled in direct proportion to the number of chicken, ham, and beef dinners served. Sometimes one would fall or jump overboard, as in the instance of a porker that became a meal for a shark, rather than a repast for a gold hunter.

Depending upon the price paid for passage, the generosity (or lack thereof) of the ship owners or charterers, and the abilities of the galley crew, food ranged from substandard to very acceptable, at least for the first month or two at sea. Often a company would have good intentions and be adequately financed, but as the ship was owned and manned by others, they had no control of the quality delivered. Reality at sea often differed greatly from the expectations back in home port, this being true of ships along any route—around Cape Horn or via the Panama shortcut.

Wine was often served from the ship’s stock and private caches brought by passengers. Water was always a problem. Fresh water soon turned cloudy as micro-organisms multiplied. As quantities of water diminished, and as its quality turned bad, there were many discomforts. To make the liquid slightly more palatable, some passengers added a touch of vinegar or a few dashes of wine or brandy to it. During thunderstorms and showers water was collected in containers or in draped canvas on deck, and everyone could drink to his heart’s content.

Bathing facilities were non-existent on shipboard. Accommodations for waste included toilets arranged in housings projecting over the side of the ship, and the use of chamberpots that could be emptied overboard.

Although a few ships headed on the Cape Horn route stopped at Havana to gain provisions or trading supplies, nearly all others went non-stop to farther south. For most vessels the first stop was at Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, less often at the tropical island of St. Catharine’s which was offshore of Brazil about 40 miles to the south of Rio. At either place, letters could be dropped off to be forwarded back to the states, to inform relatives and friends of the progress of the voyage.

Rio had been a favorite stop for American seafarers for a long time, including for Navy men who were associated with the American Squadron off Brazil. For the gold seekers of ’49, the layover in Rio usually occupied a week to 10 days, during which time their ship was reprovisioned with fruit, vegetables, livestock, and fresh water. In the city, Americans enjoyed the restaurants, saloons, elegant churches, museums, gambling halls, and, as inclined, bordellos. Those with an adventuresome spirit took side trips to jungle areas to see wild animals and other fauna of the tropics. Rio with its thousands of inhabitants was a bustling center of commerce. The visiting Americans were a tiny minority of those thronging the streets.

In contrast, St. Catherine’s Island, also called Santa Catarina Island, offered a much smaller community that was usually dominated by visitors from the north, especially when a half dozen or more ships at a time discharged passengers. The island had its own tropical curiosities including wild animals and exotic plants and was a much quieter place than Rio.

Captain Cathcart, an American whaler who had divorced his unfaithful wife in Nantucket and relocated to St. Catherine’s about two decades before the Gold Rush, and soon married the daughter of the local governor. By 1849 he had amassed a considerable fortune. A virtual private monarch with his own little domain, he enjoyed greeting ships headed for California.

Past the east coast of South America the most dangerous part of the voyage lay ahead. As ships went downward from Rio the weather grew cool, then frigid, for June, July, and August are the coldest months in that section of the world. By the time that the extreme tip of the continent was reached, the temperature was apt to be at the zero mark. The winds were usually high and blowing in the wrong direction, from west to east. To make forward progress, a vessel had to tack back and forth, sometimes traveling 10 to 20 miles in zigzags to make a single mile of forward progress.

The Strait of Magellan, north of Cape Horn, measured about 300 miles in length and offered a shortcut saving many days and hundreds of miles. However, it was wracked with high waves, strong winds and currents, and the ever-present danger of crashing into rocks at either side. The channel was not wide enough to tack effectively. Few sailing vessels hazarded this route, leaving the opportunity to the more easily manageable steamers, only a few of which had traveled that passage by 1849. For the brave crews that made the passage, the sight of broken spars and other broken ship parts on rocks or floating in the water told a silent tale of predecessors who had met disaster.

Per one account, the sailing ship Velasco took over two months to negotiate the narrow passage, which at some places was less than two miles wide. "We got out of the Straits 70 days after we entered them," member of the Narragansett Mining Co. partnership, observed. "Magellan is all right for steamers, but square-rigged vessels had better keep away."

Most ships went to the south and rounded the Cape at a safe distance, in a perilous sea lashed by high winds and waves. No doubt some had read of the Sea Gull, one of several ships that formed the U.S. Exploring Expedition of 1838-1842. In the transit of Cape Horn it is presumed that the vessel encountered a tremendous gale and foundered, or perhaps it was smashed upon a rocky shore. What exactly happened to the Sea Gull and the 20 men aboard is not known to this day.

Cape Horn successfully rounded—doubled was the popular term—the typical ship headed north, with the next stop usually at Valparaiso on the coast of Chile, although some vessels went farther to the west and called upon remote islands.

At Valparaiso, flour was abundant and for low prices—a blessing for reprovisioning the often bug-infested existing stocks of passing ships, but a bane for those entrepreneurs who had brought dozens of extra barrels of the stuff from the East, hoping to sell it for a large profit in San Francisco.

The city had many wide avenues, imposing buildings, well-stocked stores, and other trappings of a long-established civilization. For those who sought the low life, hole-in-the-wall saloons, brothels, and gambling dens beckoned. Argonauts with more elevated tastes could select from a wide choice of exhibits, reading rooms (with some outdated American newspapers), and houses of worship. The ladies of the port were deemed to be especially attractive, perhaps from their real assets, but also because it had been a long time since a member of the opposite gender had been seen.

As an alternative to Valparaiso, some ships called at the island of Juan Fernández 420 miles to the west, far off the coast of Chile. Fresh water, luscious fruit, abundant wood for galley stoves, and other provisions and supplies were taken aboard. Those with a literary turn of mind contemplated that this remote piece of land was the setting for Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, and whose who knew something about the book, but not too much, believed that the story was true—and they were experiencing the same sights that the wrecked Crusoe did. Actually, the story was based upon an element of truth, the experiences of castaway Alexander Selkirk in the same area.

A few California-bound vessels stopped at the remote Galapagos Islands to reprovision, although the possibilities there were not as great as at Juan Fernández. Sea turtles were abundant on the beaches, and inland huge tortoises were plentiful. These were often taken aboard for their meat, and consumed during the remainder of the trip. Whalers had discovered years earlier that the Galapagos tortoise stored many gallons of water within its body, to be used over a period of time when crossing arid parts of the islands (the tortoises did not enter the sea). This same water, although it had a slight taste, could be taken from a captive turtle aboard ship months later and would be free of harmful bacteria.

••••••••••

Major William Downie, after whom Downieville in the gold district of California was later named, wrote a particularly abbreviated account of his voyage to the Pacific:

••••••••••

The following narrative centers on one of the better organized and certainly one of the best outfitted groups assembling to find gold in the West, the Boston & California Joint Stock Mining and Trading Co., which formed in December 1848 during discussions in a room on Exchange Street, Boston.

Henry Smith of the same city was named as captain and president of the group, the membership of which was limited to 150. Signing up were eight whaling captains (certainly a great assurance in the event of unforeseen navigation problems), four doctors, one clergyman, a geologist, a mineralogist, 15 professional men, divinity and medical students, merchants, farmers, manufacturers, and 76 mechanics. Certainly, this was a ship filled with talent and experience!

To keep things going well, regulations provided penalties for swearing and gambling, and members were not allowed to work on Sunday.

The well-financed Boston group acquired a large 700-ton sailing ship that had already proved her seaworthiness, the Edward Everett, built in Medford in 1843, and well equipped, including with lightning rods. Historian Howe told of the accommodations and supplies:

The Edward Everett completed its documentation in port on January 9, 1849, and sailed from Boston on January 13, along with two other vessels, the brig Forest and the barque Maria. The first two weeks of the journey were in rough seas, and many became ill. The following two weeks were just the opposite—the wind died down, and the ship was becalmed. In the meantime, the travelers were occupied by such diversions as assigning Boston street names to corridors and passages on the ship, forming a small band with fiddles, banjos, and other instruments, and even publishing a newspaper, the Barometer, which contained comments contained current events, impromptu poetry, and other contributions.

Mealtimes aboard this particular sailing ship were a far cry from just about anything else recorded in the journals of California-bound adventurers aboard passenger vessels rounding Cape Horn in 1849:

On March 29 the Edward Everett cut through the Strait of LeMaire, farther south than the hazardous Strait of Magellan, but still a shortcut. By April 5, in a high gale, they completed the transit of Cape Horn. By this time, many passengers were seriously ill with scurvy, and the idyllic voyage had become one of hardship. The "nice" part of the story had ended. From necessity the vessel headed to the port of Valparaiso, which was reached on April 29.

In Valparaiso the travelers endeavored to regain their health. The more robust stretched their legs for four days. Meanwhile, fresh provisions were loaded aboard the ship, after which the continuing voyage to San Francisco was made without incident, passage through the Golden Gate being on July 6. It was found that the harbor of San Francisco was too congested, and the Edward Everett sailed to Benicia, where she was anchored on a mud bank.

Finally, there was the long-sought opportunity to find golden treasure:

Subsequently, William V. Wells, who was serving as captain of the small steamboat brought aboard the Edward Everett from Boston, wrote to an acquaintance, stating that the company had been dissolved after just two days of digging. About half of the members did no work at all.

The little steamer brought from Boston, the Pioneer, ran up to Sacramento and was subsequently sold to a leading commission house and exchange broker, Simmons & Hutchinson, for $6,000. The Edward Everett was offered as well, but it was estimated that it would not bring more than that the giveaway price of $15,000. Later, it was sold for just $11,000.

The records of various companies compiled by members, as well as information analyzed by later historians, dramatically reveal that no known large companies of eastern adventurers ever stayed together as a group in California for a significant length of time, made money, and divided profits. Not even one.

However, the partnerships served their purpose during travel. Spirits were usually elevated, anticipation ran high, and to this extent the purposes of their charters was at least in part fulfilled.

In his book of reminiscences, R.C. Shaw, who did not travel on the Edward Everett, but who came close to doing so, provided an account of the voyage of that ship—as related to him by his acquaintances who sailed aboard her. Shaw was a member of the Mount Washington Mining Co., organized in Massachusetts in 1849, comprising 50 members, most of whom resided in or near Boston. This was the only Boston company that elected to take the overland route to California in 1849, instead of going by sea. This company traveled much of the California Trail with members of the Granite State and California Mining and Trading Co. (a member of which, Kimball Webster, also kept a journal)

No doubt, in 1849 Shaw was in the minority seeking "mystery or novelty." Most others wanted to get to California as quickly as possible, with no exceptional experiences. Shaw continued his reminiscences:

In 1883, Paoli Sioli, in Historical Souvenir of El Dorado County, California with Illustrations and Biographical Sketches of its Prominent Men & Pioneers, included many colorful commentaries, historical notes, and stories. Included was an item from an unidentified Boston newspaper, "Recollection of the Late Edward Everett." It is seen that certain details differ from the preceding accounts, including the name of the mining company and the identity of the little boat launched in San Francisco Bay after the arrival of the Edward Everett:

Several accounts of ships traveling to California, including that of the Edward Everett, mention cannon being carried as protection against pirates, a precaution which a number of historians have found amusing. And yet, at the time there were many real pirates afloat in the sea lanes to the West, including in the Caribbean and along the coast of South America.

Rev. J.L. Ver Mehr, a missionary who on February 8, 1849, left New York on board the George Washington, headed around Cape Horn, later wrote of the voyage. Traveling with him were "a number of passengers, more than 300, mostly young men in search of wild adventure." Apparently, Van Mehr and his frequent sermons were tolerated, if not actually appreciated, by most of the passengers.

The captain, however, was a different story—and without saying anything, Van Mehr implied that he must have been a heathen or worse, causing the preacher to "abstain from any remarks but those which are necessary to my narrative." In March, along the coast of Brazil, something happened which required that the reprobate skipper be mentioned:

••••••••••

Among the Forty-Niners, J. Ross Browne was, in his own admission, a "non-mining" one. R.J. Walker, secretary of the United States Treasury, commissioned him on January 1, 1849, to go to Oregon to investigate and report on certain revenue service matters, and to stop in San Francisco on the way, to obtain further instructions. Browne was a man of multiple creative talents, including writing, music, and art. He was also an excellent observer of human nature. Reacting to his instructions to study and make notes of people on behest of the Treasury Department, he entered this in his private journal along with other notes, some of which he intended to use at a later time in a book:

Realizing "the probably delay and expense arising from the great number of passengers now assembled at the Isthmus of Panama and pressing towards that point, and the uncertainty of obtaining any speedy conveyance on the Pacific side," Secretary Walker informed Browne that he was "at liberty to chose such other route as you may ascertain to be the most advantageous and reliable."

Washington gossip being what it was, word soon arose that the government had "important intelligence as regards the gold region of California, which it has kept back from the public," and, moreover, "it has had this intelligence as early as last summer." Further, a New York paper pinpointed the source of such secret information and thereupon challenged the Washington Union to prove that J. Ross Browne did not have such knowledge.

Using special connections at the U.S. Custom House, Browne was able to book passage around Cape Horn on the Pacific, a 600-ton sailing ship that accommodated 70 passengers in style in cabins and provided for others in lesser facilities.

While waiting in New York City he bought items for the voyage, including a guitar, diminishing his purse to only about $100. Still in New York City, Browne wrote to his wife Lucy on January 14, 1849. She was in Washington with the couple’s two children and was expecting their third:

From the same place he wrote to Lucy on the 18th:

On the morning of January 23, the Pacific drew away from land and headed into the open sea. The departure had been delayed two days when a legal injunction was obtained against the operators of the vessel by passengers who had learned that members of a group called the New England Mining Co. had made an advance arrangement to secure several dozen of the choicest accommodations, before the drawing was held. While legal wrangling was still in progress, one of the owners of the ship contacted the other passengers waiting in the city and urged them to get on board—to give the attorneys the slip. "Ten of the passengers who had been most prominent in entering proceedings against the vessel were among the missing, simply owing to the fact they were left on shore," Browne informed his wife in a later letter.

The ship’s complement, including the crew, 63 first-cabin passengers, and 30 in the forecastle or second cabin, amounted to about 120 people. Captain W.J. Tibbits was described as a man of "good standing and high respectability." His cabin was shared by his wife and their child and by Mr. Griffing, one of the owners, his wife, and their two children.

Tibbits, despite his good reputation, seemed to have serious drawbacks, at least in the personality department, as Browne soon discovered:

Concerning Griffing:

In contrast, Mrs. Griffing was found to be "a very handsome, intelligent and ladylike woman, affable in her manners and popular with all on board."

It seems that Charles Dickens could have found a lot of plot material on the Pacific.

At sea the passengers had a lot of time to talk, walk around and discuss the advantages of the prefabricated houses, gold-washing machines, and other items piled on deck, and to make plans.

A "little old man, a professor of modern languages including Spanish," offered to serve as the leader of a group of about 50 passengers who thought it a good idea to land near Buenos Aires. From that point, well fortified with revolvers and with their equipment packed on animals, the professor and other gold seekers would take a shortcut across the South American continent to Valparaiso, thus saving many weeks of time and avoiding Cape Horn. The captain agreed to make the unscheduled stop, perhaps thinking, as Browne put it, of "saving 40 days’ provisions for that number of men."

Once at sea, Browne found that "our fare was scarcely fit for filthy swine." While the captain and Griffing were enjoying fine meals, the passengers were being "grossly deceived." The travelers banded together and appointed Jim Morgan as their president. At a meeting, with appropriate bravado Morgan proceeded:

Rising to the occasion, Browne took the floor, affecting as much official dignity as he could muster:

Word of this session must have reached Griffing and the captain, for that evening the passengers were treated to "an usually good dinner."

A lengthy petition was drawn up and given to the captain, who after swearing and remonstrating vociferously, saw the error of his ways, and yielded to the strength displayed. Afterward, the food was well prepared, at least for a while.

A debating society was formed aboard ship, and J. Ross Browne was named as its president. Among his other activities, he started a shipboard newspaper dubbed the Pacific Daily Journal. Sometimes in the moonlight on deck Browne and others would play music for singing and dancing.

Along the way, storms were encountered on occasion, the bedding and other items became soaked, and the cabins were hardly fit for occupation. Browne ruminated that for his return to the states, a wagon trip across the Rocky Mountains might be a better way to go.

By mid-February the Pacific had been sailing at the satisfactory rate of about 200 miles per day, encountering just two days of calm. It was hoped that Rio de Janeiro would be reached 35 days out of New York, a savings from the typical 50 days.

The captain’s acquiescence to his passengers’ demands proved to be temporary, and soon he was once again behaving in a very "shameful and brutal manner." Browne resolved that after the voyage he would publish a report of his draconian actions.

"Suffocated, half starved, insulted and degraded," more passengers considered taking up the professor’s idea of debarking at Buenos Aires and heading overland. A written agreement was drawn up for such a group, but Browne did not sign it, for overland conditions were completely unknown, as was the feasibility of each member making the transit while spending no more than $25—the amount budgeted.

By February 23, the captain had forbidden the playing of music, and now he issued a decree stating that passengers in the forward cabins could not go abaft (to the rear of) the mainmast. "The captain finds us so patient under his despotic authority that he comes out with some new act of tyranny every day."

As the Pacific neared Rio de Janeiro, it became apparent that passengers might not be allowed to go ashore. There were regulations to contend with, and, apparently, the captain of the ship would have to pay up to $800 for the privilege of allowing everyone to debark.

The ingenious Browne thereupon drafted a letter to the American minister at Rio, the Hon. David Tod, stating that he was in port on official Treasury Department business, and that he and his private secretary, assistant secretary, and servant—all being some of his favorite friends among the passengers—were to visit and make observations "in relation to the practicability of opening a new route through South America," this being the path across to Valparaiso suggested by the professor.

Browne, in his lieutenant’s uniform, and with his retinue of impostors in tow, enjoyed the sights of the city. While there he saw many Americans and learned that the emperor was frightened that so many visitors from the United States might portend a takeover of his country.

On March 21 a notice appeared in the local press that the Pacific was to sail the next day. By this time Browne had discussed the actions of Captain Tibbits with the American consul, who suggested that as there was no legal authority to remove him from his post, Tibbits should be requested to step down and to continue to California as a passenger on another vessel. Those who were aware of the proceedings wanted J. Ross Browne to be in charge of the Pacific for the continuation of the trip. However, Browne considered that at a later time an independent evaluation of the situation might determine that he had, in effect, engaged in piracy on land—taking the ship away from Tibbits when there was no legal reason for doing so.

However, there was no reason that complaints could not be registered, and strongly. Charges against Tibbits were drawn up as was a petition, the latter as follows:

Soon thereafter, the despicable Tibbits was removed by order of the United States consul and replaced by Captain Easterbrook. Tibbits and his family secured passage northward on the bark Korning.

In the meantime, on shore Browne’s roommate, 22-year-old Dr. Beals had "been playing the mischief here among the damsels, and is now laid up sick."

On March 28, 1849, still at Rio, Browne wrote to his wife Lucy: