term of enlistment expires—battalion members preparing to return to their families—one company re-enlists—an insolent spaniard—pistol snapped in the writer's face—almost a deathblow—desperate fight stopped by bystanders—serious trouble with another spaniard—learn the lesson to avoid those who gamble or drink intoxicants—spanish character—class of california's inhabitants in 1847—condition of the country—appearance of the towns and villages—difficulty in securing an outfit for members of the battalion to journey eastward.
the members of the mormon battalion had been purchasing horses and mules and a general outfit for a return to our friends at the close of our term of enlistment, which was drawing nigh. at the same time, col. stephenson, of the new york volunteers, and other commissioned officers, were making strenuous efforts to have us re-enlist for another twelve months, or six months at least, telling us they had authority to impress us if they chose, but they preferred to have us come as volunteers. it had been reported that although the californians had been whipped, there was not concord, and that as soon as the mormon battalion left the country the californians would revolt and make an effort to overthrow united states supremacy; but while we remained there was no fear.
now, as there were many of the battalion who had spent all their wages—ninety-six dollars for their year's service—it may have appeared to them that the only thing to do was to re-enlist. horses could be purchased cheaply, and provisions were not high, but some money was needed. consequently, one company re-enlisted under capt. davis of company e, while the rest of the command were busy preparing for their journey east to meet the saints somewhere, they knew not just where.
comparatively few of our command had acquired sufficient knowledge of the spanish language to do their own trading, and these acted as interpreters for their comrades. the writer happened to be one of the few who had made some success in picking up the language. on one occasion, when hunting the town and adjacent country for such articles as we needed in our outfit, he became fatigued and went into a cafe for a cup of coffee. on entering the restaurant he found, besides the landlord, three or four good-appearing spaniards, who soon began to question him about the united states and its people. their questions were being answered in a courteous manner, when the attendant, who was a tall, fine-looking spaniard, interposed with the remark that america was a fine country, but her soldiers were cowards and babies. the writer was alone, and scarcely knew how to treat the insult; besides, there was a possibility that it was intended as a joke. therefore, he felt that it would be improper to be too abrupt in replying, and said, quietly, that america was a good country and her soldiers were the bravest of the brave.
at that moment the spanish-californian stepped back and brought out an american hat that had been cut through on the side by some sharp instrument. said he: "here is one's hat—i killed him in battle. he was a great baby." reaching back, he brought out a dragoon's sword and a holster, with two iron-mounted u. s. pistols. his eyes flashed, and he mimicked the dying soldier, saying all the americans were cowards. my blood was up, and i taunted him by asking him how it was, if the americans were such cowards and babies, and fled from the spaniards on the battlefield, that the americans had taken the country. pointing to the stars and stripes floating over the fort on the hill, i said, "that shows where the brave men are; it is the californians who are cowards and babies." in an instant a pistol was snapped in my face, and i saw the fire roll from the flintlock. quick as a flash, i caught a heavy knife that was handy, leaped on to the counter, and was bringing the weapon down on the head of my assailant, when both of us were seized by bystanders, and were disarmed. i started for camp, but was dragged back to compromise the affair. when i re-entered the room the proprietor was priming his weapon with mustard seed. he said it was all fun, and we should make up. the spectators were anxious to settle, and offered to treat. some of the spaniards expressed regret at the occurrence. the matter was dropped, though i never was convinced that that spanish attendant did not have murder in his heart.
on another occasion i had an unpleasant experience with another spaniard. it was when i was on guard duty at the prison in los angeles. a very large, well dressed spaniard came across the street from a drinking saloon and gambling den. he wore a large sombrero worth about eight dollars. he had been gambling and drinking, but was not drunk. said he, "i have lost all my money, and i want to leave this hat with you for four dollars. if i do not bring the money back, you may keep the hat; it is worth eight dollars, and will sell for that any day." his offer was rejected, when he showed some displeasure, again urging the loan, and promising to bring the money back in a short time. finally he prevailed, left the hat and took the money.
in two or three hours the spaniard returned, saying he wanted his sombrero, at the same time promising to bring the money next day. of course this proposition was rejected, whereupon he showed considerable temper, but at last said it was all right, he would find the money; and added, "come over to the saloon and have a drink of wine, and we will be good friends." thinking that would settle the matter, i complied with his request. he had on a long spanish sarapa, or blanket, and as we neared the door he stepped ahead, leaned over the counter, and said something to the bartender. as i entered the door i was again asked for the hat, and he in turn was requested to hand over the money. he grew angry, threatened, and finally challenged me to fight. as i squared off to meet his impending assault, the spaniard drew a large bowie knife for a thrust at me, but was stopped by some bystanders. i was at the time nineteen years of age, and my young blood was thoroughly aroused. i rushed for my musket, which was loaded and had bayonet fixed, and with the hurting end foremost i was quickly back at the saloon, forcibly declaring my readiness for the conflict. the bystanders closed in and called for peace, the four dollars was soon raised, and the sombrero found its way back into the hands of its angry owner, who displayed considerable effect of the liquor he had been drinking. but i learned an impressive lesson, namely, to avoid the companionship of men who drink intoxicants or who follow games of chance for a livelihood. even if a man does not indulge himself, those who do are liable to ask favors, and if these are not granted the next thing is insult, which often ends in bloodshed, or did in those days in california. in illustration of the light estimate of human life, i can recall a man's foot being kicked about the street, and no more notice being taken of it than if it were an animal's.
as to spanish character, the writer can say from a close acquaintance that when the spaniards are sober and friendly, they are very friendly, hospitable and polite, being very good company; in fact, we seldom met with a more wholesouled and agreeable people. yet it is doubtful if there are any people who will resent an insult quicker and more seriously than they will. they are brave and manly; yet those who are of mixed blood, such as the greasers, are low, degraded, treacherous and cruel. in california there were a few of the higher class, many more of a medium kind, and still more of the lower class; so that in summing up the total of california's inhabitants in 1846-7, the country was only half civilized and thinly inhabited.
at that time the country was wild, being overrun with wilder horses, cattle, sheep and goats. in places, wild oats and mustard abounded, in many sections the mustard being as high as a man's head when on horseback, and so dense that a horse could be forced only a few feet through it. in the foothills and mountains wild game was very abundant, consisting of elk, deer, bear, and smaller game. along the water courses and on the lakes waterfowl was plentiful. there were millions of acres of uncultivated land, as good as any on the globe. the climate is scarcely equalled anywhere. the chief products of the soil then were wheat, barley, beans, peas, apples, peaches, plums, apricots, pears, dates, figs, olives, grapes, black pepper, spices, and many fruits not named here. these all seemed to grow very near to perfection, especially when properly cared for. the greater part of the labor was performed by native indians, and that too with the most primitive tools. the buildings were low, being one-story adobe, with flat roofs covered with cement, or a natural tar that exuded from the earth; sometimes tile was used, but i do not remember seeing one brick building or shingle roof in all the land.
under the conditions which existed, it was no easy matter for a hundred and fifty men to get an outfit together to travel over the mountains east, as that number of the battalion intended to do; but having commenced before we were discharged from service—say some time in june—to purchase our horses, saddles, and everything necessary for a pack train, we were partly prepared for the journey when the day came for us to be mustered out.
