<h3>THE STAMPEDE FOR THE GOLD DIGGINGS</h3>
<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Hardly</span> had we got fairly over the Indian War when another
wave of excitement broke up our pioneer plans again.
On March 21, 1858, the schooner <i>Wild Pigeon</i> arrived at
Steilacoom with the news that the Indians had discovered
gold on Fraser River, that they had traded several pounds
of the precious metal with the Hudson's Bay Company,
and that three hundred people had left Victoria and its
vicinity for the new land of El Dorado. Furthermore, the
report ran, the mines were exceedingly rich.</div>
<p>The wave of excitement that went through the little
settlement upon the receipt of this news was repeated in
every town and hamlet of the whole Pacific Coast. It
continued even around the world, summoning adventurous
spirits from all civilized countries of the earth.</p>
<p>Everybody, women folk and all, wanted to go, and would
have started pell mell had there not been that restraining
influence of the second thought, especially powerful with
people who had just gone through the mill of adversity.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></SPAN></span>
My family was still in the blockhouse that we had built in
the town of Steilacoom during the Indian War. Our cattle
were peacefully grazing on the plains a few miles away.</p>
<p>One of the local merchants, Samuel McCaw, bundled up
a few goods, made a flying trip up Fraser River, and came
back with fifty ounces of gold dust and the news that the
mines were all that had been reported and more, too. This
of course, added fuel to the flame. We all believed a new
era had dawned upon us, similar to that of ten years before
in California, which changed the world's history. High
hopes were built, most of them to end in disappointment.</p>
<p>Not but that there were extensive mines, and that they
were rich, and that they were easily worked; how to get to
them was the puzzling question. The early voyagers had
slipped up the Fraser before the freshets came down from
the melting snows to swell the torrents of that river. Those
going later either failed altogether and gave up the unequal
contest, or lost an average of one canoe or boat out of three
in the persistent attempt. How many lives were lost never
will be known.</p>
<p>Contingents began to arrive in Steilacoom from Oregon,
from California, and finally from "the States." Steamers
great and small began to appear, with little cargo but with
passenger lists that were said to be nothing compared
to those of ships coming in less than a hundred miles to the
north of us. These people landing in Whatcom in such
great numbers must be fed, we agreed. If the multitude
would not come to us to drink the milk of our cows and eat
their butter, what better could we do than to take our cows
to the place where we were told the multitude did not
hesitate to pay a dollar a gallon for milk and any price one
might ask for fresh butter!</p>
<p>But how to get even to Whatcom was the rub. All space
on the steamers was taken from week to week for freight<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></SPAN></span>
and passengers, and no room was left for cattle. In fact,
the run on provisions for the gold rush was so great that at
one time we were almost
threatened with famine.
Finally our cattle, mostly
cows, were loaded in an
open scow and taken in
tow alongside the steamer,
the <i>Sea Bird</i>, I think it
was.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-153.png" width-obs="252" height-obs="275" alt="A "shaker" used to wash out gold." title="" /> <span class="caption">A "shaker" used to wash out gold.</span></div>
<p>All went well enough
until we arrived off the
head of Whidby Island.
Here a choppy sea from
a light wind began slopping
over the scow and
evidently would sink us
despite our utmost efforts at bailing. When the captain
would slow down the speed of his steamer, all was well; but
the moment greater power was applied, over the gunwales
would come the water.</p>
<p>The dialogue that ensued between the captain and me
was more emphatic than elegant. He dared not risk letting
go of us, however, or of running us under, for fear of incurring
the risk of heavy damages. I would not consent to
be landed. So about the twentieth of June we were set
adrift in Bellingham Bay and, tired and sleepy, landed on
the beach.</p>
<p>Our cows must have feed, they must be milked, the milk
must be marketed. There was no rest for us during another
thirty-six hours. In fact, there was but little sleep for
anybody on that beach at the time. Several ocean steamers
had just dumped three thousand people on the beach,
and there was still a scramble to find a place to build a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></SPAN></span>
house or stretch a tent, or even to spread a blanket, for
there were great numbers already there, landed by previous
steamers. The staking of lots on the tide flats at night,
when the tide was out, seemed to be a staple industry.</p>
<p>A few days after my arrival four steamers came with an
aggregate of more than two thousand passengers. Many of
these, however, did not leave the steamer; they took passage
either to their port of departure—San Francisco or
Victoria—or to points on the Sound. The ebb tide had set
in, and although many steamers came later and landed
passengers, their return lists soon became large and the
population began to diminish.</p>
<p>Taking my little dory that we had with us on the scow, I
rowed to the largest steamer lying at anchor. So many
small boats surrounded the steamer that I could not get
within a hundred feet of it. All sorts of craft filled the intervening
space, from the smallest Indian canoe to large
barges, the owner of each craft striving to secure customers.</p>
<p>The great difficulty was to find a trail to the gold fields.
This pass and that pass was tried without success. I saw
sixty men with heavy packs on their backs start out in one
company. Every one of these had to come back after
floundering in the mountains for weeks. The Indians,
among whom the spirit of war still smouldered, headed off
some of the parties. The snows kept back others; and
finally the British, watching their own interests, blocked
the way through their land. As a result the boom burst,
and people resought their old homes.</p>
<p>It is doubtful if another stampede of such dimensions as
that to the Fraser in 1858 ever occurred where the suffering
was so great, the prizes so few, and the loss of life proportionately
so great. Probably not one in ten that made the
effort reached the mines, and of those who did the usual percentage
drew the blanks inevitable in such stampedes. And<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></SPAN></span>
yet the mines were immensely rich; many millions of
dollars of gold came from the find in the lapse of years, and
gold is still coming, though now more than sixty years have
passed.</p>
<p>While the losses of the people of the Puget Sound
country were great, nevertheless good came out of the
great stampede in the large accession of population that
remained after the return tide was over. Many people had
become stranded and could not leave the country, but went
to work with a will to make a living there. Of these not a
few are still honored citizens of the state that has been
carved out of the territory of that day.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-155.png" width-obs="229" height-obs="325" alt="Climbing" title="" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus-156.png" width-obs="500" height-obs="287" alt="Carrie sees "a big cat" sharpening its claws." title="" /> <span class="caption">Carrie sees "a big cat" sharpening its claws.</span></div>
<h2>CHAPTER TWENTY</h2>
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