Paula's Quest [pp. 211-218]

PAULA'S QUEST
BY JAMES HERVEY DURHAM
ALIFORNIA in the early'50's!
How well I remember the mad rush
after gold! Beginning in 1849, its
culmination was reached in 1856, and then
the excitement gradually died away and
more settled conditions prevailed.
At the time I write of, the excitement
was yet at fever-heat, and every stream,
gully, and gulch swarmed with prospectors. Crowds of people landed from every
vessel that entered the harbor of San
Francisco, and in a few hours they were
off for the diggings. Sometimes the
entire crew of a vessel deserted her, leaving her anchored in the bay, a lonely and
useless hulk. Desertions from the garrisons and camps were so frequent that
many times a post was reduced to the commiissioned officers alone, who for a time
were compelled to do their own washing
and cooking, attend to their own horses,
and perform such other menial duties as
were necessary.
In the course of a few months, however,
a change was perceptible. Very few of the
deserters succeeded in finding gold, while
the hardships they were obliged to encounter in the diggings compared so very unfavorably with their usual camp-life that
ere long many returned to their quarters
completely cured of the gold-fever, while
many more were ready to return to duty
could they be assured of a welcome reception, and mayhap a light punishment.
With the idea of persuading the men to
return, several subaltern officers, of whom
I was one, were detailed to visit the diggings. My duties led me to visit from
time to time many of the most noted
placers in the country, especially those on
the Sacramento and American rivers and
their branches.
My usual companion on these trips was
Sergeant O'Neil, who had been with the
regiment from its organization. He rode
with the gallant May in his charge upon
the Mexican batteries at Palo Alto, and
under the lead of Harney helped to capture the heights of Chapultepec. When,
only three years before, I joined the regiment, a raw "sub," and was assigned to
his troop, O'Neil took me under his
especial protection; we became fast
friends, remaining so as long as he lived;
and even now, though long past the allotment of threescore and ten years, I cherish
irr nmyr heart a warm spot for one of the
noblest men and best soldiers I ever knew.
In those days, traveling was for the
most part performed on horseback, or else
on mules or broncos. Wagon-roads were
not numerous, though some quite passable
wagon-trails led from San Francisco to
some of the nearest placers. A very fair
trail of the kind led out through San
Ramon Valley aAd up Walnut Creek,
passing around the base of Monte Diablo
to the north, and on to Jones's Gulch, one
of the richest placer diggings then known.
At the foot of Monte Diablo on its
northern side, just where the beautiful
hamlet of Clayton now stands, there was
an excellent camping-place, distant from
San Francisco about thirty miles, a point
which O'Neil and myself had intended to
reach on the evening of May 30, 1852.
Early that morning the steamer Oregon
was reported off the Golden Gate, and, as
we were in no hurry to set out, we concluded to await her coming which was expected at about half-past nine o'clock.
Almost at the moment she anchored off
the uncompleted wharf at the foot of California Street, and her passengers began
to disembark in small boats. There were
probably no less than two hundred passengers in all, and, strange to say, but one
lady among them. As she came ashore
leaning on the a.rm of the captain, I
noticed that her expression was one of
anxiety and of sadness.
I am not good at personal inventories,
and so I only saw before me a well-dressed
young lady of about twenty years of age,
well formed, slightly above the medium
height, with very prepossessing and exceedingly intelligent features shaded by an
abundance of brown wavy hair, blue eyes
inclining at times to a steel-gray, a finely
chiseled mouth, and a firm chin. Her
general appearance was that of a young
woman of much firmness and decision of