Memoirs of General William T. Sherman — Complete
Washington.
About Christmas, I had notice that my family, consisting of Mrs.
Sherman, two children, and nurse, with my sister Fanny (now Mrs.
Moulton, of Cincinnati, Ohio), were en route for New Orleans by
steam-packet; so I hired a house on Magazine Street, and furnished
it. Almost at the moment of their arrival, also came from St.
Louis my personal friend Major Turner, with a parcel of documents,
which, on examination, proved to be articles of copartnership for a
bank in California under the title of "Lucas, Turner & Co.," in
which my name was embraced as a partner. Major Turner was, at the
time, actually en route for New York, to embark for San Francisco,
to inaugurate the bank, in the nature of a branch of the firm
already existing at St. Louis under the name of "Lucas & Symonds."
We discussed the matter very fully, and he left with me the papers
for reflection, and went on to New York and California.
Shortly after arrived James H. Lucas, Esq., the principal of the
banking-firm in St. Louis, a most honorable and wealthy gentleman.
He further explained the full programme of the branch in
California; that my name had been included at the insistence of
Major Turner, who was a man of family and property in St. Louis,
unwilling to remain long in San Francisco, and who wanted me to
succeed him there. He offered me a very tempting income, with an
interest that would accumulate and grow. He also disclosed to me
that, in establishing a branch in California, he was influenced by
the apparent prosperity of Page, Bacon & Co., and further that he
had received the principal data, on which he had founded the
scheme, from B. R. Nisbet, who was then a teller in the firm of
Page, Bacon & Co., of San Francisco; that he also was to be taken
in as a partner, and was fully competent to manage all the details
of the business; but, as Nisbet was comparatively young, Mr. Lucas
wanted me to reside in San Francisco permanently, as the head of
the firm. All these matters were fully discussed, and I agreed to
apply for a six months' leave of absence, go to San Francisco, see
for myself, and be governed by appearances there. I accordingly,
with General Twiggs's approval, applied to the adjutant-general for
a six months' leave, which was granted; and Captain John F.
Reynolds was named to perform my duties during my absence.
During the stay of my family in New Orleans, we enjoyed the society
of the families of General Twiggs, Colonel Myers, and Colonel
Bliss, as also of many citizens, among whom was the wife of Mr.
Day, sister to my brother-in-law, Judge Bartley. General Twiggs
was then one of the oldest officers of the army. His history
extended back to the War of 1812, and he had served in early days
with General Jackson in Florida and in the Creek campaigns. He had
fine powers of description, and often entertained us, at his
office, with accounts of his experiences in the earlier settlements
of the Southwest. Colonel Bliss had been General Taylor's adjutant
in the Mexican War, and was universally regarded as one of the most
finished and accomplished scholars in the army, and his wife was a
most agreeable and accomplished lady.
Late in February, I dispatched my family up to Ohio in the
steamboat Tecumseh (Captain Pearce); disposed of my house and
furniture; turned over to Major Reynolds the funds, property, and
records of the office; and took passage in a small steamer for
Nicaragua, en route for California. We embarked early in March,
and in seven days reached Greytown, where we united with the
passengers from New York, and proceeded, by the Nicaragua River and
Lake, for the Pacific Ocean. The river was low, and the little
steam canal-boats, four in number, grounded often, so that the
passengers had to get into the water, to help them over the bare.
In all there were about six hundred passengers, of whom about sixty
were women and children. In four days we reached Castillo, where
there is a decided fall, passed by a short railway, and above this
fall we were transferred to a larger boat, which carried us up the
rest of the river, and across the beautiful lake Nicaragua, studded
with volcanic islands. Landing at Virgin Bay, we rode on mules
across to San Juan del Sur, where lay at anchor the propeller S. S.
Lewis (Captain Partridge, I think). Passengers were carried
through the surf by natives to small boats, and rowed off to the
Lewis. The weather was very hot, and quite a scramble followed for
state-rooms, especially for those on deck. I succeeded in reaching
the purser's office, got my ticket for a berth in one of the best
state-rooms on deck, and, just as I was turning from the window, a
lady who was a fellow-passenger from New Orleans, a Mrs. D-, called
to me to secure her and her lady friend berths on deck, saying that
those below were unendurable. I spoke to the purser, who, at the
moment perplexed by the crowd and clamor, answered: "I must put
their names down for the other two berths of your state-room; but,
as soon as the confusion is over, I will make some change whereby
you shall not suffer." As soon as these two women were assigned to
a state-room, they took possession, and I was left out. Their
names were recorded as "Captain Sherman and ladies." As soon as
things were quieted down I remonstrated with the purser, who at
last gave me a lower berth in another and larger state-room on
deck, with five others, so that my two ladies had the state-room
all to themselves. At every meal the steward would come to me, and
say, "Captain Sherman, will you bring your ladies to the table?"
and we had the best seats in the ship.
This continued throughout the voyage, and I assert that "my ladies"
were of the most modest and best-behaved in the ship; but some time
after we had reached San Francisco one of our fellow-passengers
came to me and inquired if I personally knew Mrs. D---, with flaxen
tresses, who sang so sweetly for us, and who had come out under my
especial escort. I replied I did not, more than the chance
acquaintance of the voyage, and what she herself had told me, viz.,
that she expected to meet her husband, who lived about Mokelumne
Hill. He then informed me that she was a woman of the town.
Society in California was then decidedly mixed. In due season the
steamship Lewis got under weigh. She was a wooden ship, long and
narrow, bark-rigged, and a propeller; very slow, moving not over
eight miles an hour. We stopped at Acapulco, and, in eighteen
days, passed in sight of Point Pinoa at Monterey, and at the speed
we were traveling expected to reach San Francisco at 4 A. M. the
next day. The cabin passengers, as was usual, bought of the
steward some champagne and cigars, and we had a sort of ovation for
the captain, purser, and surgeon of the ship, who were all very
clever fellows, though they had a slow and poor ship. Late at
night all the passengers went to bed, expecting to enter the port
at daylight. I did not undress, as I thought the captain could and
would run in at night, and I lay down with my clothes on. About 4
A. M. I was awakened by a bump and sort of grating of the vessel,
which I thought was our arrival at the wharf in San Francisco; but
instantly the ship struck heavily; the engines stopped, and the
running to and fro on deck showed that something was wrong. In a
moment I was out of my state-room, at the bulwark, holding fast to
a stanchion, and looking over the side at the white and seething
water caused by her sudden and violent stoppage. The sea was
comparatively smooth, the night pitch-dark, and the fog deep and
impenetrable; the ship would rise with the swell, and come down
with a bump and quiver that was decidedly unpleasant. Soon the
passengers were out of their rooms, undressed, calling for help,
and praying as though the ship were going to sink immediately. Of
course she could not sink, being already on the bottom, and the
only question was as to the strength of hull to stand the bumping
and straining. Great confusion for a time prevailed, but soon I
realized that the captain had taken all proper precautions to
secure his boats, of which there were six at the davits. These are
the first things that steerage-passengers make for in case of
shipwreck, and right over my head I heard the captain's voice say
in a low tone, but quite decided: "Let go that falls, or, damn you,
I'll blow your head off!" This seemingly harsh language gave me
great comfort at the time, and on saying so to the captain
afterward, he explained that it was addressed to a passenger who
attempted to lower one of the boats. Guards, composed of the crew,
were soon posted to prevent any interference with the boats, and
the officers circulated among the passengers the report that there
was no immediate danger; that, fortunately, the sea was smooth;
that we were simply aground, and must quietly await daylight.
They advised the passengers to keep quiet, and the ladies and
children to dress and sit at the doors of their state-rooms, there
to await the advice and action of the officers of the ship, who
were perfectly cool and self-possessed. Meantime the ship was
working over a reef-for a time I feared she would break in two;
but, as the water gradually rose inside to a level with the sea
outside, the ship swung broadside to the swell, and all her keel
seemed to rest on the rock or sand. At no time did the sea break
over the deck--but the water below drove all the people up to the
main-deck and to the promenade-deck, and thus we remained for about
three hours, when daylight came; but there was a fog so thick that
nothing but water could be seen. The captain caused a boat to be
carefully lowered, put in her a trustworthy officer with a
boat-compass, and we saw her depart into the fog. During her
absence the ship's bell was kept tolling. Then the fires were all
out, the ship full of water, and gradually breaking up, wriggling
with every swell like a willow basket--the sea all round us full of
the floating fragments of her sheeting, twisted and torn into a
spongy condition. In less than an hour the boat returned, saying
that the beach was quite near, not more than a mile away, and had a
good place for landing. All the boats were then carefully lowered,
and manned by crews belonging to the ship; a piece of the gangway,
on the leeward side, was cut away, and all the women, and a few of
the worst-scared men, were lowered into the boats, which pulled for
shore. In a comparatively short time the boats returned, took new
loads, and the debarkation was afterward carried on quietly and
systematically. No baggage was allowed to go on shore except bags
or parcels carried in the hands of passengers. At times the fog
lifted so that we could see from the wreck the tops of the hills,
and the outline of the shore; and I remember sitting on, the upper
or hurricane deck with the captain, who had his maps and compass
before him, and was trying to make out where the ship was. I
thought I recognized the outline of the hills below the mission of
Dolores, and so stated to him; but he called my attention to the
fact that the general line of hills bore northwest, whereas the
coast south of San Francisco bears due north and south. He
therefore concluded that the ship had overrun her reckoning, and
was then to the north of San Francisco. He also explained that,
the passage up being longer than usual, viz., eighteen days, the
coal was short; that at the time the firemen were using some cut-up
spars along with the slack of coal, and that this fuel had made
more than usual steam, so that the ship must have glided along
faster than reckoned. This proved to be the actual case, for, in
fact, the steamship Lewis was wrecked April 9, 1853, on "Duckworth