Death Valley in \'49 by William Lewis Manly

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When it was getting dark they were almost at the summit, but there was
no good camping place, and they saw a small fire light at a little
distance and went to it, finding a poor lone camper taking care of
himself. They camped here also. It seemed as if there were many men from
the various parties scattered all around the country, each one seeking
out the path which seemed to suit best his tender feet or present fancy,
steering west as well as mountains and canon would permit, some farther
north, some farther south and generally demoralized, each thinking that
as a last resort he would be able to save his own life. It seemed to be
a question of will and endurance, strong hearts and keeping the body in
motion. The weak and faint must fail, and the strong said to the
weak;--"Stand up; be a man; don't fall down;" and so the strong spurred
on the weak and kept them up as best they could.

Down the mountain they went, on the west side and instead of Los
Angeles, which some of them expected to see, they saw only a salt lake
in the midst of a barren desert valley and their route lay directly
across it. They traveled in several directions as they went across. One
went across the valley on a strip of dried mud between two small lakes.
Others followed down along the east side of the lake near the foot of
the mountain, where they found some good water and an old Indian camp.
They found some mosquite beans, which they did not know were of much
use, but really, if they had known how to fix them up a little they
would have been good food.

Capt. Doty's mess crossed between the lakes on the strip of dry mud
while others went on where it was still soft and left marks of their
foot-steps. Both parties turned up a small canon on the west side and
began the ascent of a black and barren range, containing no water, but
in the bed of the ravine near the summit they found some damp sand and
tried to dig with their hands to find some of the precious fluid. But no
water came, and in the morning one of their number Mr. Fish died and was
left unburied on the barren rocks. No doubt his bones could be found
there to-day.

Turning west again, they had a down grade over a most barren and rocky
road for many miles. The prospect from this point was any thing but
cheering. To the left a large lake could be seen, and from their
previous experience they concluded it to be salt, and the valley they
were coming to was very sandy, and the hardest sort of footing for men
and animals as weak as those of the party were. It must be crossed
before there was any possibility of water, and when across it was quite
uncertain whether they could obtain any. One of their number had already
died of thirst and fatigue and all were suffering terribly.

The valley seemed about eight miles across, and before they were half
way over Mr. Ischam, one of their party sat down, perfectly exhausted,
and said he could not take another step. No one was able to assist him
or give him a drink of water, and they could not tarry to see if rest
would refresh him. They could only look sadly at him and pass on in
silence, for he seemed fast wasting away. The thought came to everyone
that perhaps it would be his turn next to sit down and see the others
pass on. In fact the probability of any more of them living another day
was very poor, for they all grew weaker and weaker with every hour, and
no one knew how many hours must pass before they could hope for water.
There was not moisture enough in their poor bodies to make tears, and no
one dare open his mouth, lest all the moisture suddenly evaporate and
respiration cease.

Those who had no cattle took different courses to reach the hills and
mountains on the west side of this valley, hoping there to find water
and signal to the others if they were successful. All except the two men
managed to get across, and finding no water the packs were taken from
the oxen and they were driven to the lake which appeared on the left.
Reaching the lake they found the water red in color and so strong of
alkali that no man or beast could take a single swallow. They drove the
cattle back again with sad hearts, and almost despondent, for in the
rough, dry rocks of the mountains there seemed no signs of water. But
they were saved again. Those who bore farthest to the right in their
course to the mountains, steering toward a pile of tremendous rocks,
found a little stream of good water which flowed only a short distance
and then sank into the sand. This good news spread rapidly, and all soon
gathered at the little streamlet. It was slow work getting water for
them all, but by being patient they were all filled up. Some took two
canteens of water and hurried back to Mr. Ischam, whom they found still
alive but his mouth and throat so dry and parched, and his strength so
small that he was unable to swallow a single drop, and while they waited
he breathed his last. With their hands and feet they dug away the sand
for a shallow grave, placed the body in it, covered it with his
blankets, and then scraped the sand back over again to make a little
mound over their dead comrade. Perhaps if he could have walked a mile
farther he might have lived, and but for the little trickling stream of
water from the rocks they might all be dead, so slight were the
circumstances that turned the scale to balance toward life or death.

There was so little feed for oxen that they could gain no strength, but
were much refreshed by the water and could still travel. One was killed
here, and the meat, poor as it was, gave the men new strength. They all
guessed it to be at least fifty miles to the base of the great snow
mountain before them, and what there was between no one could tell, for
there were hills and valleys between. Leaving the little spring their
course led first up a small canon, and when they reached the summit of
the ridge a small valley covered with sage brush was before them, the
most fertile spot they had seen for a long time. The descent to this
valley was through another canon which was filled with large boulders
for much of the way, and over these it seemed almost impossible to get
the cattle. They had seen no water since leaving the little stream, and
the plain they were now approaching seemed thirty miles wide, with no
signs of streams or springs. However just at the foot of the canon they
found a small water hole, but the water was so salt that even the oxen
refused to drink it.

They decided to make a push across the plain and endeavor to reach the
other side in two days, and they knew there could be no water on its
even expanse. The plain seemed quite an up grade from where they were to
the base of the mountain.

On the second day they all reached the point they were aiming for except
Rev. J.W. Brier and family, and they came in one day behind. Every one
looked out for himself and had no time nor strength to spare to help
others. Here on a small bench overlooking the country to the south and
east but still a long distance from the snow, they found some holes of
water, and some bunch grass a little farther up the hill. Here was a
large trail coming from the north and leading from this point westward.
There were no signs of recent use, but there were many indications that
it was quite ancient and had been considerably traveled in time past.
This was quite encouraging to many of them and they declared they would
follow this trail which would surely lead to some place well known, in a
better country. They cared not whether it led to California, Mexico, or
Texas, only that they might get out of this country which seemed
accursed. Any place where they could get something to eat and drink
would be better than this.

Mr. and Mrs. Brier had some pretty hard struggles to get along, and
everyone of this party has ever been loud in praise of the energy and
determination of the brave little woman of the Brier mess. All agreed
that she was by far the best man of the party. She was the one who put
the packs on the oxen in the morning. She it was who took them off at
night, built the fires, cooked the food, helped the children, and did
all sorts of work when the father of the family was too tired, which was
almost all of the time. They all said that he, like other ministers, had
fallen out with any work but that of the tongue, and seemed perfectly
willing for some one else to do the work. Mrs. Brier had the sympathy of
everyone, and many would have helped her if they could. She waited on
her big husband with untiring zeal, and still had time to care for the
children with all of a mother's love. It seemed almost impossible that
one little woman could do so much. It was entirely to her untiring
devotion that her husband and children lived. Mr. Brier had but little
sympathy or help from any one but her. Some were quite sarcastic in
their remarks about the invalid preacher who never earned his bread by
the sweat of his brow, and by their actions showed that they did not
care very much whether he ever got through or not. They thought he ought
to have asserted his manliness and taken the burden on himself, and not
lean upon his delicate and trusting wife as he seemed to do. All are
sure that it is to his faithful wife the Rev. J.W. Brier owed his succor
from the sands of that desert.

Looking back on the scenes of that day, the way the selfish dispositions
of people were made manifest is almost incredible. Every one seemed to
think only of saving his own life, and every spark of human sympathy and
kindness seemed extinguished. A man would drink the last cup of water
even if his neighbor choked.

This camp was the same one which the Author mentions in his narrative,
to which Rogers and himself crept so silently and carefully at night to
ascertain whether the occupants were friends or foes. They were much
pleased to find it was Capt. Doty of the Jayhawkers and his mess who had
remained behind to dry the flesh of an ox they had killed when it could
travel no longer. The others had gone on ahead, following the trail,
leaving these to follow. They staid here two days, and it was while
waiting here that the Rev. J.W. Brier came up as before related, and
they all went on together when they moved.

Nearly every man had carried a gun in the early days of the expedition,
hoping to kill game, and to be well armed in case of attack by Indians
or enemies, but they began to find that they were useless encumbrances,
and first one and then another would throw away his fire-arms as a
burden too great for a weary man to bear. There was no game, and the
poor weak men hardly deemed their own lives worth defending against an
enemy when a day or two of lack of water would end the matter of life at
any rate.

As they slept they dreamed the most tantalizing dreams of clear,
rippling brooks of water; of wading knee deep in the most beautiful of
ponds; of hoisting the old moss-covered bucket from some deep old well;
of breaking and eating great white loaves of bread; of surrounding the
home table with its load of steaming beans and bacon, fragrant coffee
and delicious fried cakes. With such dreams of comfort, they awoke to
realize more fully the terrors of their dry and swollen throats, the
discomfort of empty stomachs. Water and food were the great riches of
life to them then. Had piles of twenty-dollars pieces been on the one
hand and a bucket of cold water on the other there is no doubt of the
choice that would have been made.

Seven or eight miles from this place were two branches to the trail. One
led into the mountains toward the snow, and the other still bore
southerly. They could see that some other party who had no oxen to drive
had taken the more northerly route, which seemed to lead more directly
in the direction of the mines of California. Those who came later, with
animals thought it would be folly to try to cross the deep snow they
could see on the mountains before them and concluded that it would be
safer to the south of the snow line, braving the danger of scarcity of
water, rather than to perish in the snow. Capt. Doty was willing to
attempt the northern branch of the trail if the others so decided, but
the general feeling was in favor of the more plain and open trail which
led away from the snows. It is known that this Northern branch led over
what is known as Walker's Pass, coming out at the Kern River.

Taking then the southern branch, the party passed through a range of low
mountains, and then the country before them seemed quite level for a
hundred miles.

They expected they would find much difficulty on account of water, as
their experience had taught them that it was very scarce in such
locations, but this trail when they came to follow it led them for eight
or ten miles over a level piece of high land that looked as if it might
have slid down from the high mountain at some day long past, and this
easily traveled road brought them at last to the top of a steep hill,
down which they went and found near the bottom, a small weak stream of
water, but no grass, and but little fuel of any kind. (This was the same
camp at which Rogers and the Author overtook the advance party.) Here
they killed an ox, which made a good meal for all, and not much remained
over, for many had no oxen and were getting out of all sorts of
provisions. They depended much on the generosity of their fellow
travelers. Many of them stood back, and waited till those who owned the
food were satisfied, and were very grateful when they were invited to
take even the poorest morsels.

They could count the oxen and make a pretty close guess of how many days
they could live in this way, even with the best probable fortune
favoring them, and to the best of them there was but little hope, and to
those who were dependent it seemed as if the fate of Fish and Ischam
might be theirs almost any day. When the Author conversed with them at
this camp he found them the first really heart-broken men he had ever
seen. Some were men of middle age who had left good farms that gave them
every need, and these they had left to seek a yellow phantom, and now
there were yellow phantoms of a different sort rearing their dreadful
forms all about them. They called themselves foolish gold hunters to
forsake a land of plenty for a chance to leave their bones in a hot
desert. More eyes than one filled with tears, and hopes in more than one
breast vanished to almost nothing. More than one would gladly have
placed himself back where he could have been assured of the poorest fare
he ever saw upon his farm, for bread and water would have been an
assurance of life, of which there seemed to be really but little
expectation here.

When they left this camp in the canon the trail was between two high
rocks, rising like walls on each side. In one place they were so near
together that an ox could hardly squeeze through. In a very short time
they came to a bunch of willows growing out in the open ground. The
little bunch or grove was forty or fifty feet in diameter, and in the
center was a spring of water. The center of the clump had been cleared
out, making a sort of corral of bushes, enclosing the spring. On the
outside there was quite a little growth of grass, which was a fortunate
thing for their poor beasts.

Away in the distance, rising up a little against the western sky they
could see mountains with snow on them, and it seemed as if it were a
journey of five or six days to reach them, but the good water and the
grass bolstered up their spirits wonderfully for there was present
relief and rather better prospects ahead. They were pretty sure that the
wide plain held no water. Everything that would hold the precious drink
was filled, and the best preparations made for what they believed was to
be the final struggle for life. They rested one day and prepared for the
very worst that might before them. Early in the morning when they could
see plainest, they looked across the expanse before them and really it
did not seem quite so barren, hot and desolate as the region they had
passed, and they talked and hoped that this would be the last desert
they must cross and that Los Angeles lay just beyond the sunny ridge
they could dimly see ahead. There were some tears that more than one
would not live to answer roll call on the other side, but it was the
last hope, and worth an earnest, active trial.

Early in the morning, much refreshed, they started on again with rather
sober faces. That night one man insisted on sleeping with his clothes
and boots all on, for he said if he died he wanted to die in full dress.
Another day and some thought they could see trees on the mountains ahead
of them, and this renewed their courage greatly. In the middle of the
day they suffered greatly with the heat and the dry air seemed to drink
up every bit of moisture from everybody. When they killed an ox they
saved the blood and ate it. The intestines, cleaned with the fingers,
made food when roasted on the fire, and pieces of hide, singed and
roasted, helped to sustain life. The water was nearly all gone. Only
power of will and strength of body had kept any. Capt. Asa Haines sat
down one day and said he could go no farther, but his comrade, L.D.
Stephens, who had kept a little rice, a little tea, and a dry crust of
bread for time of need, took a little water in a cup and made some soup
which he forced his friend to eat and soon he revived and was able to
move on again. That was true friendship.

The next night Stevens himself awoke and seemed perishing with thirst.
He crawled over to Doty's bed and begged for just one sup of water, Doty
in the goodness of his heart, took his canteen from under his head
divided the last few drops with him and the death which threatened him
was held off. Capt. Doty found it necessary to talk very seriously to
those who mourned and talked of failing. He never gave up in the least.
He encouraged all to make every step they could and know no such word as
fail. When they said that death would be easier than life, he told them
so, but that life was possible if they only willed it, and a better life
than had been theirs. And so he kept them encouraged and kept them
putting one foot before the other, pointing out the ever lessening
distance to the mountain before them. He appealed to their manhood. "Be
men," said he, "Be brave and courageous, and you have more strength than
you believe." Thus by example and words he proved to be a true captain
to his little band.

Their water was all gone, every drop, and still the foot-hills seemed
far away. The supply of meat ran out. Tom Shannon killed an ox, and when
those who had cattle had taken some, the others who had none were told
to divide the rest. There was no water to dress or cook it, but it
helped to sustain life. Entrails, bones, sinews, bits of hide and
everything was used. One man was seen with an ox horn, burning the end
in the fire and gnawing away at the softened portion. It was something
terrible to see human beings eating what the dogs would cast aside. One
man saw some moist looking earth on the shady side of a bunch of brush
and he dug down and got a handful of it, from which he tried to suck the
moisture. He failed, and the bad taste of the earth made him suffer more
than before. Many bones of horses and cattle now appeared along the
trail. They seemed to have been there a long time, and some were partly
decayed. On this waterless stretch one of their number, a Frenchman,
wandered off, searching for water in little hollows or puddles, and
never came back to camp. He was supposed to be dead, but ten years
afterward some surveyors found him in a Digger Indian camp.

An idea how selfish men will get under such circumstances may be gained
by relating that on one occasion when an ox was killed the liver was
carried to the brave little Mrs. Brier for herself and children, and she
laid it aside for a few moments till she could attend to some other
duties before cooking it. Darkness coming on meanwhile, some
unprincipled, ungallant thief stole it, and only bits of offal and
almost uneatable pieces were left to sustain their lives. That any one
could steal the last morsel from a woman and her children surpasses
belief, but yet it was plain that there was at least one man in the
party who could do it. No one can fully understand or describe such
scenes as this unless he has looked into just such hungry looking,
haggard eyes and faces, a mixture of determination and despair, the
human expression almost vanishing, and the face of a starving wolf or
jackal taking its place, There are no words to paint such a state of
things to him who has never seen and known.

But there were true men, true, charitable hearts in that little band.
Though death stared them in the face they never forgot their fellow men.
As they slowly crawled along many would wander here and there beside the
trail and fall behind, especially the weaker ones, and many were the
predictions that such and such a one would never come up again, or reach
the camp. Then it was that these noble souls, tired almost beyond
recovery themselves, would take water and go back to seek the wandering
ones and give them drink and help them on. More than one would thus have
perished in the sands but for the little canteen of water carried back
by some friend. Only a swallow or two would often revive their failing
strength and courage, and with slow step they would move on again. How
much good a crust of bread would have done such a poor creature. Bread
there was none--nothing but the flesh of their poor oxen, wasted and
consumed by days of travel and lack of food till it had no goodness in
it. Even the poor oxen, every night seemed to be the end of their
walking; every morning it was feared that that would be the last time
they would be able to rise upon their feet.

Already five or six days had passed since they left the camp at the
willows where they had their last supply of water, and still they were
on the desert. The journey was longer than they had expected, partly
owing to the slow progress they had made for there were frequent stops
to rest or they could not move at all. The mountains seemed nearer every
day, and the trees were outlined more plainly each morning as they
started out. Capt. Doty used every circumstance to encourage them. He
would remark upon the favorable signs of water in the hills before them,
and the hope that there might be some game to provide better meat than
that of starving oxen. Thus he renewed their hope and kept alive their
courage. He must have had a great deal of fortitude to hide his own sad
feelings, for they must as surely have come to him as to any one, and to
keep up always an air of hope, courage, and determination to succeed. If
he had been a man of less spirit and good judgment it is very probable
that many more would have been left by the wayside to die.

About this point the trail which had been growing fainter and fainter,
seemed to vanish entirely. One could move in almost any direction to
right or left as he chose, and because of this, previous travel had
doubtless scattered and thus left no trail. It was thought best that
this company should spread out and approach the mountains in as broad a
front as possible so as to multiply the chances of finding water, and so
they started out in pairs, some to the right and some to the left, each
selecting the point where water seemed most probable.

Tom Shannon and a companion were one of these pairs. Tom was one of the
few who still stuck to his gun, for he felt that it might save his life
sometime. He and his companion separated about a mile, each looking at
all points that showed the least sign of water. Suddenly a jack rabbit
started from a bush, the first game Shannon had seen for more than a
month. He pulled the rifle on him as he was making some big bound and
had the good luck to nearly split his head open. Rushing up to his game
he put his mouth to the wound and sucked the warm blood as it flowed,
for it was the first liquid he had seen; but instead of allaying his
fearful thirst it seemed to make it worse and he seemed delirious. A
little way up the gulch he saw a rock and a green bush and steered for
it, but found no water. He sat down with his back to the rock, his rifle
leaning up near by, pulled his old worn hat over his eyes, and suffered
an agony of sickness. He realized that life was leaving his body, and
there he sat with no power to move and no desire to make an effort. It
seemed as if he could see plain before him all the trail from where he
sat, back over all the deserts, mountains and rivers to the old place in
Illinois. He entirely forgot the present, and seemed unconscious of
everything but the pictures of the past. The mind seemed growing freer
from its attachment to the body and at liberty to take in his whole past
life, and bright scenes that had gone before. How long he sat thus he
knows not. His companion was fortunate in finding water, and when he had
refreshed himself he set out to find poor Tom of whom he could see
nothing. Going toward where he heard the shot he followed on till he saw
him at the rock, almost doubled up, with his face concealed by his hat.
"O! Tom!" said he, but there came no answering motion, and going nearer
he called again and still no answer and no sign. Poor Tom had surely
passed on to the better land, thought he, and salvation was so near. He
approached and lifted the hat rim. There was a movement of the eyes, a
quivering of the muscles of the face, and a sort of semi-unconscious
stare such as precedes approaching dissolution.

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