In Quest of Gold

By Carol Bender

THIS STORY IS retold from the diary of Jacob P. Prickett. When he was editor of the newspaper back in the late 1800s he wrote the story in a series of serials and then compiled them together and pasted them into a book. The book was handed down in the family from generation to generation and tells a wonderful story about his trip, as a young boy of 17, when he joined on with a wagon train going west to the Gold Rush. More than gold he was seeking excitement and adventure and he certainly found plenty of both. His other goal was to find his older brother who was already in California.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465399410

Carol Bender

Carol Bender is a retired elementary school teacher. She has four children and lots of grandchildren and great grandchildren. Carol spends summers in her log cabin in Indiana and winters in Alabama. She loves to read and write stories, especially family stories that have been passed down through the generations. Grace's Birthday Surprise is her second children's book about Grace. She also has written an adult book entitled In Quest of Gold. Check out her website: www.carolbender.com

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by Carol Bender.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011960861

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4653-9940-3

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4653-9939-7

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4653-9941-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Xlibris Corporation

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Contents

ABOUT THE STORY

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

AFTERWORD

Dedication

To all the descendents of the Prickett and Ott family.

ABOUT THE STORY

THIS STORY IS retold from the diary of Jacob P. Prickett. When he was editor of the newspaper back in the late 1800s he wrote the story in a series of serials and then compiled them together and pasted them into a book. The book was handed down in the family from generation to generation and tells a wonderful story about his trip, as a young boy of 17, when he joined on with a wagon train going west to the Gold Rush. More than gold he was seeking excitement and adventure and he certainly found plenty of both. His other goal was to find his older brother who was already in California.

CHAPTER ONE

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DURING ALL OF my early boyhood years I was something of a dreamer. The love of adventure seemed to be inborn with me-not the adventure of the dime novel variety-but the desire to explore unknown lands; to penetrate regions where the feet of civilized man had never trod, and explore their mysteries. This dormant love of adventure, this latent fire that was always slumbering in my breast, was fanned into a flame, when among the first books, was a personal narrative of a sailor named Reilley, who was shipwrecked on the coast of Africa, captured by a band of Bedouins from the Great Desert of Sahara, was held a prisoner by this nomadic band of Arabs until finally ransomed by some Europeans in Morocco. His adventures stirred my inmost being to such an extent that I longed to take all the risk; to suffer all the hardships of such captivity, if I could but experience the thrill of similar adventures.

Scarcely had the reading of this book been concluded when a copy of the journal kept by the exploring expedition of Lewis and Clark in their long and perilous journey from then the western border of the United States to the Columbia River and the Pacific Ocean, in 1805, fell into my hands. If the other book had kindled the spark of adventure in my bosom into a glow, this book fanned it into an unquenchable flame.

In the atlases in use in the schools of my day, all that region extending from the Missouri River to the Rocky Mountains was marked as The Great American Desert, and at school when I should have been deeply engaged in studies of a more practical nature and in which the teacher no doubt supposed I was so engaged, I would be pouring over that map, and, in imagination, peopling this great desert of America with nomadic Arabs such as Reilley found on the Desert of Sahara, and inwardly hoping that it might some day be my privilege to penetrate that desert region and explore its hidden mysteries.

Subsequent reading dispelled the belief in the existence of this Great American Desert extending from the Missouri River to the Rocky Mountains. It showed that while there were semi-arid regions of vast extent there, much of the territory was rich, tillable soil, over which buffalo roamed in vast herds, and American Indians made their permanent homes, and the actual desert lands were located west of the Rocky Mountains and east of the Sierra Nevada Range, and were of small extent in comparison with that of Sahara. But this dispelling of youthful dreams did not quench the fire of youthful dreams in my heart. It was not desert lands that I longed especially to explore, but unknown lands-regions which the feet of civilized man had seldom trodden, and here in this western wilderness of prairie and mountains, two thousand miles in width, was a broad field in which to gratify such desires.

But the years passed on apace, and then came the discovery of gold by James W. Marshall in the mill race of Sutter’s Mill, on the American River in the western foothills of the Sierra Nevada’s, where the town of Columbia now stands, and the fitting out of companies in all parts of the United States early in 1849 for the long and perilous journey over the trackless plains to this new Eldorado, while ships were hurriedly fitted out at many Atlantic ports to carry other thousands on a six months voyage around Cape Horn to the land of gold.

How I longed to be one of that number. But a boy of thirteen could scarcely hope to be taken in on such an expedition, the hardships of which, with its imaginary perils, only the strongest and hardiest of full-grown men were able to withstand. A few years later an older brother joined a company for that long journey over the plains. For six months after crossing the Missouri River all communication with him was cut off, but he did reach the land of flowers and of gold and it was to me he wrote.

How I feasted upon his letters descriptive of the country through which he had passed and incidents of the journey. Knowing, I think, that I had a longing to make the trip, and was only prevented because of my tender years, I imagined he purposely exaggerated the hardships he had endured, and the dangers through which he had passed. If this was his object he utterly failed of its purpose. His letters only fixed my mind in the determination of engaging with the first company that would accept me as a member. But how was this to be accomplished?

At home I had a mother and stepfather, neither one of whom I knew would ever consent for me to take this, to them, seemingly perilous step. Aside from this I had a sensible old guardian who was using what funds of mine were in his hands to give me an education, and had been sending me away to school and I knew that he would interpose his authority to prevent the step I was longing to take. It was not the love of gold, not the hope of obtaining wealth that was father to my desire to penetrate unknown lands and participate in such adventures as might befall on such a trip.

When I was seventeen years old I returned from school for a vacation of about three months. As luck would have it a couple of gentlemen, with whom I had a slight acquaintance, were just starting for southwestern Indiana for a two or three months tour engrafting fruit trees, and wanted me to accompany them at fairly good wages. No valid objection could be raised by my mother or guardian to this engagement, and I was permitted to leave with them.

When about forty miles south of Terre Haute, Indiana we made our headquarters with an old local preacher whose name was Rev. Smith, and after considerable work for him, and others in his immediate neighborhood, each of us started out one morning in different directions to different parts of the county-Sullivan—to contract for future work.

Taking dinner in the little town of New Lebanon, I stepped into an adjacent store and purchased a cigar and sat down by the stove to enjoy a smoke. While sitting there some one entered the store to whom the merchant said, after some conversation had passed between them, Jim Carlson was in here today looking for a hand to go with him to California. My heart almost leaped into my throat when I overheard this. Here, at last, was a possible opportunity of making the trip I had for so many years hoped for. With an apology for intruding, I asked where this man Carlson lived, and was informed that he lived on Gill’s Prairie, near the Wabash River, and ten or twelve miles away. I was no longer interested in the fruit tree engrafting business. I sought to make no more contracts for the company, but struck out for our headquarters at Smith’s where I arrived in the evening, and luckily found the men there for whom I was working.

I explained the situation to them; told them of my great desire to go with this man Carlson to California if he would take me, and asked them to release me from my engagement with them for the following day until I could see Carlson, and if I succeeded in getting in with him, to make the release permanent.

After a consultation, they agreed to release me if I engaged with this man, but informed me that they could not spare one of their horses for me to use the next day, as they were compelled to drive several miles then to another place where they had secured a job of engrafting. I then turned to Rev. Smith-our host-and asked him if I could hire a horse of him. He said I could, but putting on his most sanctimonious look and solemn visage, he advised me not to go to see this man Carlson-that he was not a Christian; was, in fact, an unbeliever, and that he did not consider him a safe man to start with on such a trip. Said he knew him well, and that he would not be surprised if Carlson would get what money I had and then abandon me on the plains and more rot of the same character.

Further along in this atory the reader will see how all this was a vilification of one who had a great heart in him-a heart so generous and true that this man Smith was utterly incapable of fathoming its depths. To stop him from telling me anymore I told him outright that if Carlson would accept me, I was willing to run all risks, and with a sort of graveyard groan, he subsided.

The next morning I mounted the horse furnished me and rode over to Carlson’s some twelve miles distant. When I got within sight of the house I was staggered to find that the Wabash River had overflowed its banks, and a low piece of ground fully one-fourth of a mile wide between myself and my destinationn was flooded, and how to pass this body of water I did not know. There was a house on the shore where I was, while Carlson’s house was in plain view on the opposite shore. I rode up to the house on the shore where I was and called out. An old lady came to the door. Is there a boat that I can get to row over to Mr. Carlson’s house? I asked. She answered, There is a road across the channel, it has a high embankment and is perfectly straight, the water covers the road to a depth of about four feet, but if you get off the embankment the water would be ten or fifteen feet deep. People familiar with the road often ride over it, but it is scarcely safe for a stranger to make the attempt. What was I to do? I had no more courage than the average of mortals, but the failure to make the attempt was to give up the realization of all my youthful dreams. It seemed to me that California was just over there, and a lack of courage only kept me away from it. I told the woman I would nake the attempt. She went with me to the water’s edge, showed me where to enter and pointed out a tree on the opposite shore where I was to emerge from the water, she said that if I kept a straight course, all would be well. I took a point beyond the tree, with which it was in line, and entered the water, and crossed over in safety. Just as I neared the opposite shore I looked back and saw the old lady standing at the water’s edge, shading her eyes with her hands and watching me. Nothing would have tempted me to take the risk except the unquenchable desire to make the trip over the plains.

I knocked at the door of Mr. Carlson’s residence, and someone said, Come in. I found the family at dinner. It consisted of Mr. Carlson and a woman I supposed to be his wife, and a man who I found out later was one of the men engaged to go with the wagon train to California, whose name was Ike. I then and there made known my errand, after explaining that I had heard he wanted to engage a hand for the trip. He did not reply immediately but seemed to size me up. He asked my name, age, place of residence, and what I was doing down in that part of the state. Also, if my parents were living, and if I had any friends in California. All these questions I answered promptly and truthfully. He then inquired how I had crossed the slough, as he called the body of water I had just crossed. I said, I rode through it. He seemed surprised, and asked if I had ever crossed it before. I said, no. He exclaimed with an oath, You are the first stranger I ever knew who crossed it in that way. His questioning continued, Have you ever driven an ox team? I did not want to lie to him, yet I feared if I told the truth and said that I had not been accustomed to driving yoke oxen, that he would not accept me. However, without hesitation, I said, I was reared on a farm and was familiar with cattle. It was the truth, but it did not answer his question, yet it seemed to satisfy him. Carlson then said, I have all the men engaged that I care to have go with me to California. But some of them may withdraw before we cross the Missouri, and then I’ll regret that I did not take you, as I think you would suit me. He was silent for several minutes, seemingly in deep thought, when, turning to his companion, he said, Ike, if you were in my place what would you do about taking this boy? I gave Ike one appealing look, and he afterward told me that he realized just how anxious I was to be accepted, and he said, I would take him.

That settled it and I was accepted, conditionally. Carlson explained that he was taking 100 head of loose cattle to California. Besides there would be three wagons drawn by oxen, and that I could have my choice of driving one of these teams over the plains or ride a horse and help drive the drove of cattle. I chose driving the ox team. He said that he furnished provisions for the trip, and an assortment of medicines for the company in case of sickness, also a horse to ride for those who attended to the drove of cattle, except where the employee preferred to furnish his own horse to ride. That all the clothing for the men must be furnished by themselves, also such extras as they saw proper to purchase before crossing the Missouri River. Said, also that he had crossed the plains the year previous, and could advise as to such an outfit as I would need, when we arrived at St. Joseph, Missouri where we would leave civilization behind. In consideration of thus boarding the company, he expected them to help him get his drove of cattle through; to do guard duty; to fight Indians if necessary, and in all things to obey his commands. That he would require nothing of his men that was unreasonable or unlawful, but obedience he must have. He asked me if I could subscribe to these conditions, and I said I could do so cheerfully. He asked me when I could be there to help take care of the cattle, as Ike was the only one of the company who would be on hand previous to strarting, April 1, (it was then about the 24th of March) and I said I could be there the next day. Be here at 4 o’clock pm tomorrow and you can go with me to California; otherwise I won’t take you, he said. I promised I would be there.

With a joyous heart I returned to Smith’s that afternoon. At last I was on the eve of the realization and fulfillment of all my most cherished youthful dreams. I had but little money, and I had brought but little clothing with me from home when I left there with the fruit tree engrafters. I lacked many things that I knew I would need on the trip, but I dared not write home for them, nor even write that I had engaged to cross the plains, as I knew my mother and guardian would take the necessary steps to prevent me starting on the perilous trip. So I was compelled to remain silent. All this I considered as I rode along that afternoon. It occurred to me that possibly Smith, who had manifested so much interest in my temporal and eternal welfare in dissuading me from placing myself in the power of this unbeliever, Carlson would be as liberal in his charge for the horse I had hired of him as he had been in unsolicited advice. As I rode up to the gate about the middle of the afternoon, he was standing there. He enquired, Did you find Carlson? Yes, and I’m going with him to California. He groaned. I turned the horse over to him and asked how much I owed him for its use. He said, Well, I reckon it’s worth about $2.50. I suppose he considered that Carlson was sure to rob me anyway, and that he would have the first pull from my small store. I was indignant, but paid him without a word, and left him without bidding him good-by. I found the men for whom I had been working, a few miles away; stayed with them that night, and received what pay was due me, and the next morning started on foot for Carlson’s carrying a small grip that contained all my wordly effects.

Arriving in sight of the house, I saw Ike sitting on the bank of the large body of water intervening between me and it, with a boat moored at the landing, into which he got, when I signaled to him, and rowed across. We spent a half hour rowing over the overflowed bottom lands of the Wabash River, and in that period exchanged many confidences. I frankly confessed to him that I had probably deceived Carlson into the belief that I had been accustomed to driving ox teams all my life, while the fact was that I had had but little if any expereince in that direction. I said that while reared upon a farm ox driving had not been part of my work. He lifted the burden from my mind considerably by saying. Oh, that’s all right. We do not start for a week, and in that time we must break a lot of wild steers to work on the wagons, and you’ll learn all about ox-driving before we start. The week was put in by me at faithful work driving four, five and six yoke of oxen in one team, and by April 1, I felt that I had become something of an expert in that line.

CHAPTER TWO

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IT WAS THE last day of March. On the morrow we would start on that long, tedious, and perhaps perilous journey over the plains. On this day the company assembled at Carlson’s residence, accompanied by friends, and there were many sad partings between mother and son, and I was thankful that this ordeal was spared to me, although Mrs. Carlson, evidently realizing my loneliness, gave me as affectionate a good by as if I had been her son. There were nine of us in all. With the exception of Carlson, all were young men and unmarried. He had reached middle age. I was but seventeen, and the youngest member of the company, yet there was another. Dolph-who was but little older than myself. He was in poor health-threatened with consumption-and being a relative of Carlson was going through for his health, and not much was expected of him in the matter of doing the work of the company on the journey. The others were all stalwart young men, in robust health, and perfect specimens of physical manhood. There