Life of a Pioneer: The Autobiography of James S. Brown. James S. Brown
"Dust those fires!" and the flames went out; the adjutant rushed through the camp with orders to the officers to form their companies into line, the men were commanded to fall in, and all was rustle and bustle.
The writer had been up relieving his stomach of half-boiled wheat, corn and peas, and had just got settled back in bed when the alarm was fired, so he heard all that was going on. As we all slept in our pantaloons, the first thing I thought of in that country of prickly pears was my boots; and while reaching for these and bumping heads with comrades, some of the men whose muskets were used for uprights for the tent thought these the first articles in the emergency and seized them, the tent coming down and the ridge-pole making another bump on heads. At the same time we were all trapped in the fallen tent, which was pinned down tight. I was trying to get the left boot on the right foot, and my footwear being rather small I had no easy job. All being caught in the tent-trap, the thought came how easy it would be for a body of Mexican cavalry in a charge to cut us to pieces, and we soon burst through the tent and fell into line.
For the first time in the whole march the writer brought up the rear in getting to his place, and received a rebuke from the officer in command, George P. Dykes. Right here, however, in that brief experience, I learned a lesson I have never forgotten, namely, order in dressing and undressing. We had been in the habit of putting our clothing anywhere and each throwing his on top of another's, if convenience appeared to suggest it, so that in the dark it was difficult for each to get into his own raiment. I realized then how important it was to have "a place for everything and everything in its place;" hence to put every article of wearing apparel down so that in the darkest hour of night I knew where to place my hand on it, and when armed always to have my weapons in the best possible order and where the hand might be laid on them without any mistakes.
Notwithstanding all the confusion, it seemed to me we were in line of battle in very short order, awaiting an attack of Mexican cavalry. There was a few minutes' breathless silence after we were ready for the assault, and no enemy appearing, reconnoitering parties were sent out to ascertain the true situation. We were held in readiness an hour or more, then learning that everything was quiet, were permitted to retire to our tents, but not without some apprehension of danger until the dawn of day, which came bright and peaceful, and we began our march out on what was known as the Ninety-five Mile Desert, which lay between us and the Gila River.
After the first day's march on that awful stretch of barren waste, we began to straggle along, and before the Gila was reached the command was scattered along on the clay beds and sand strips for twenty miles. We traveled night and day, not stopping at any one place more than six hours.
The command was in a most deplorable condition on this journey. Many were the men that lay down by the wayside without a hope that they would live to reach water, and often thinking that they were behind the command. But after they had rested for a few hours and perhaps dozed long enough to dream that they died on the desert, and that the wolves that were howling around were dragging their emaciated carcasses over the sands or perchance in the alkali pools, so strongly impregnated with poisonous stuff that it would consume, in a short time, the flesh if not the bones also, then the thought of home and loved ones would come; and what was sometimes last, though not the least, would be the memory of the promises which the servants of God had made when we left the dear ones of home. Then the worn and weary soldier would stagger to his feet, survey the surroundings, and perhaps would catch sight, in the distance, of some comrade who was staggering and reeling onward toward the setting sun, and would follow in his path.
So the almost dead soldier would go on, his feet playing pit-a-pat as they dragged past each other, until his limbs would refuse to carry him farther, and down he would go and repeat the agonizing experience of a few hours previous. He would also chew a buckshot or two to induce moisture in his parching tongue, and would offer an earnest prayer from his humble soul—a further exertion which he would not have brought his wearied mind to do if it had not been for the confidence he placed in the promises of God, made through His faithful servants.
Thus, dear reader, the renowned Mormon Battalion passed forward across the great Gila Desert, almost without a human reason to hope that they would reach the goal, and only able to accomplish their aim through divine grace. When they succeeded in reaching the banks of the river, their clothes were so tattered and torn that it was with difficulty they could cover their nakedness.
CHAPTER X.
ON THE GILA RIVER—PIMA INDIAN VILLAGE—WELCOME GIFTS FROM THE PIMAS—AMONG THE MARICOPA INDIANS—ASLEEP ON THE TRAIL—VISIT PROM A BEAR—LOSS OF PROVISIONS THROUGH AN ATTEMPT TO FLOAT A QUANTITY DOWN THE GILA—HARD TRAVELING—CROSSING THE COLORADO RIVER—GLOOM IN THE CAMP—LOWER AND UPPER CALIFORNIA—TERRIBLE MARCH OVER THE TIERRA CALIENTE, OR HOT LANDS—DIGGING WELLS FOR BRACKISH WATER—ADVANCE GUARD REACH A MOUNTAIN SPRING—WATER CARRIED BACK TO REVIVE THE FAINTING TROOPS—LAST SPOONFUL OF FLOUR USED—DIVIDING THE RATIONS—IN THE CANYONS OF THE SIERRA NEVADA—HEWING ROADS THROUGH ROCKS AND BRUSH—FEEDING ON LIVE ACORNS AND GREEN MUSTARD—NEWS OF VICTORIES BY UNITED STATES TROOPS IN CALIFORNIA—PREPARING TO ENGAGE THE RETIRING MEXICAN ARMY—FIRST HOUSE SEEN IN CALIFORNIA—BEEF WITHOUT SALT—TRADE FOR ACORN MUSH—HEAVY STORM AND FLOOD IN CAMP—A FEW POUNDS OF FLOUR SECURED—DANCING IN MUD AND WATER—RECEIVE ORDERS TO GO TO LOS ANGELES—DISCOVER A BODY OF TROOPS IN LINE OF BATTLE—ADVANCE TO THE ATTACK—SUPPOSED FOE PROVES TO BE FRIENDLY INDIANS—PRESENCE OF THE MORMON BATTALION PREVENTS AN INTENDED ATTEMPT BY MEXICANS TO RETAKE CALIFORNIA, ALSO AN UPRISING OF CALIFORNIANS AGAINST THE UNITED STATES—ON A BATTLEFIELD WHERE GENERAL KEARNEY HAD FOUGHT—RELICS OF THE ENCOUNTER—PROPHECY OF PRESIDENT BRIGHAM YOUNG AND ITS FULFILLMENT—SOURCE OF HIS INSPIRATION.
WHERE we reached the Gila River it was a lovely stream, four or live rods wide; but the country was covered with alkali grass and mesquit brush. We rested part of a day, then proceeded down the river eight or ten miles, coming to a Pima Indian village. The Pima Indians were superior to any that we had fallen in with heretofore. They were an agricultural people, peacefully inclined, and kind and loving toward each other. Those in the village appeared the picture of good health. They came and went by twos, the males and females keeping each sex, to themselves. They seemed the most affectionate people I had ever met; happy and innocent in appearance—a large and handsome class of persons. Each Indian was wrapped in a large home-made blanket.
The Pimas had corn, wheat, pumpkins, beans, and, I think, peas. Some of the Indians noted our wretched and starved condition, and cut up a lot of pumpkins—as we cut them for cows. These they boiled, and handed to the soldiers as the latter passed by and took the proffered food in anything they could get to hold the steaming hot vegetables. The men were indeed thankful for these favors, although they came from Indians.
It was between the 20th and 25th of December when we left the Pima Indian village, and passed down the Gila River to a broad, open, fertile valley in the Maricopa Indian country. At the Maricopa Indian villages we met many fine specimens of the native inhabitants. We traded brass buttons for food. One brass button had more purchasing power than a five dollar gold piece.
It was some five or six days before we passed out of the Maricopas' farming country. There was a large bend in the river, and we traveled three days over a rough, sandy country before we came to the stream again. On this march we camped without water. The writer was one of those who stood guard around the stock. The feed was so scarce that we were kept running all night. I was so completely worn out next day that at about eleven a.m. I sought rest by dropping out of the command and hiding from the rearguard behind a clump of brush that grew on a sand knoll. No sooner had I laid down than I fell into a sound slumber, oblivious to all danger.
When the writer awakened from that sleep the rearguard had passed on long before; the sun had changed position so that the drowsy soldier felt perfectly lost, but gradually he came to realize that it was three or four o'clock p.m. Some six or eight feet from where he had been lying he found fresh bear tracks, telling him of the wild beast that had been viewing him while wrapt in slumber. He hurried forward on the trail, and reached camp just as the night