On St Valentine’s Day morning, 1863, there was one man in a sleepy Lancashire village rousing to the lingering recollection of preceding days. No more than an instant of free thought must have passed in this man’s mind before he was haunted by the reminder of his misfortune. His name was John Taylor, and this part of his luckless biography begins fourteen years earlier…
“They came by the tens and hundreds and thousands, then by the tens of thousands and hundreds of thousands. They came by sailing ship and steamship, by horse and mule and ox and wagon and foot. They came in companies, and alone, with money and without, knowing and naive. They tore themselves from warm hearths and good homes, promising to return; they fled from cold hearts and bad debts, vowing never to return.” – The Age of Gold by H.W. Brands
California gold rush – Credit Look & Learn
Small eye-catching articles in local Lancashire newspapers echoed confirmation of important news from America.
Gold! had been discovered in California.
Bold, repetitive headlines presented ardent and daring souls with a current of temptation and opportunity. John Taylor, son of the late, respected landlord of the Black Bull Inn, Longton, was one of those intrepidly confident individuals whose imagination was captured. Whether it was the allure of the newspaper ads or tales from family already in America, the mere thought of a journey, armed with little more than a shovel and a washpan, held the thrilling potential to transform his life from the familiar fields of Longton to the untamed riches of the American West. This potent blend of opportunity and the unknown was more than enough to draw John away from everything that was familiar and comfortable.
A bachelor in his early twenties, free from any commitments, John embarked on his great adventure to California by boat. Passenger lists from England reveal a few hopeful “John Taylors” making the transatlantic journey to the North American coast, eventually heading south towards San Francisco. The earliest of these embarked in 1851, with the latest departing in 1856.
John’s southward path began in New York, leading him towards a strategic point on the Caribbean coast. This route, famously known as the “Panama Shortcut,” presented a choice: depending on the year of his voyage, John would either have navigated a perilous jungle trek along the Chagres River to catch another steamer to San Francisco, or, if he travelled after 1855, he could have opted for the newly established Panama Railroad.
Delving deeper into the passenger lists, a striking pattern emerges beyond just the departure months of November and February. It seems that a ‘smooth sailing’ was a rarity. Almost every ship’s logbook paints a picture of challenging journeys, filled with tales of fierce winds, dense fog, bad coal, and mechanical failures.
The steamships were often repurposed for their new task of transporting the swarms of prospectors. The aim was to fit as many on board as possible. Provisions for the long term were often an afterthought, and sickness on board was prevalent. Salted meats and scurvy came as standard with the ticket. Beds or bunks onboard were rare, but some steamships did make room for them in the hold. The whole journey lasted weeks. John likely bore his passage the best he could.
Whether John embarked on his expedition from England alone, with a friend, or even paid ticket as part of a ‘co-partnership’, his journey was undoubtedly an arduous one, fraught with peril and discomfort.
San Francisco
On arrival at his destination, John was gifted with a completely unknown geography. Whilst he breathed out the salty air from his voyage and repleted his lungs with the scents of his landing, he was likely fighting fatigue whilst anticipating the continuing peregrination.
Once away from the wharf and town, the landscape of California unfolded before him as a land largely wild and untamed. Rolling plains stretched out endlessly, giving way to magnificent forests that painted a breathtaking panorama across his entire horizon. Everything John needed was in his pockets or on his back for the duration of his journey.
The natural variety of acquaintance along his route ranged from elk and deer to the Californian condor. Crossing paths with bears and wolves was not at all inconceivable either. An altogether different setting than that which decorated the rural landscapes of Lancashire.
Abandoned vessels in San Francisco Bay
A Vertical Wilderness
My research indicates John’s travels continued by riverboat, leading him inland. From there, he navigated the rugged terrain, by stagecoach or mule, venturing into the deep canyons of Northern California.
The landscape John entered at his final destination was a vertical wilderness. Unlike the rolling hills of Lancashire, John’s new home was dominated by granite, dense trees and the constant sound of running water – elements that became central to his time as a miner.
“I like this half savage life“
A letter written by a gold miner to his employer back in England was published in the ‘Taunton Courier’ in 1850. It gives an incredibly detailed insight into the experience had by an Englishman whilst in California during the gold rush.
The prospector who wrote the following account was aptly also named John.
To the editor of the times.
Sir, I enclose a copy of a letter received by the last mail from California.
It is written by a young man, 23 years of age, who served his time in my office, and in the fall of last year was tempted to seek for fortune in California.
How far his expectation have been realised will be best gathered from his statement, which I place at your disposal, in the hope that his experience may not be thrown away on the many who are preparing to follow in his footsteps.
“I arrived at San Francisco on the 29th of March (Good Friday), after a very good passage from Liverpool of 161 days, five days of which we stayed at Valparaiso.
I very foolishly started for the mines, in company with an old sailor who came passenger with us from Valparaiso. We came by the steamer to Sacramento City, 150 miles; stayed three days there, and then packed our blankets and provisions on our backs, and walked 45 miles to Auburn, and on to the North Fork of the American river. At Auborn we were both taken very ill of dysentery; our money was melting fast; my companion got sick of the mines and insisted on going back. I wanted to stay, however; so, after walking back again to Sacramento city, he went on to San Francisco, and I found myself again without a cent.
I soon, however got a berth as steward at an hotel at 50 dollars per month, and in a few days as cook at 100 dollars. I had to turn out at 4am and work hard till 9pm. After I had been in the hotel a fortnight the Boss called me an English something not very handsome. I kicked up a row with him, and demanded my wages, which he made it out to be only 20 dollars, deducing various things I never had but I took it and left.
I left the hotel, to deliberate as to where I should go next; but, meeting with a young American, a western man, just about as rich as myself, we clubbed our piles of money together and started off for this place 60 miles. We came past Mormon Island and through Coloma; Sutters Mill, where gold was first found, is at Coloma, on the South Fork. We crossed the South Fork and came across the mountains to this valley. Here we located until the waters fell in the river, the mountains still being covered with snow. Although it is most intensely hot in the valleys, the rivers will not be low enough for working until the end of July; then we will either go on the Middle Fork , or go on to some branches of the Yuba river. The day after we got here my companion was taken ill of the fever and agne; he was here all last summer, but was only able to work six weeks, being ill all the rest of the time. He wintered at the Sandwich Islands. I am also ill of diarrhoea, and unable to work these few days past. However I hope to be well soon. When working here, we only make from 4 dollars to 6 dollars per day between us, but we manage to pay expenses and can only just do so until the rivers fall.
Wooden houses here are all the go. You would be astonished to see the immense quantities of wooden houses and timber of all sorts cut up ready to form a house of any dimensions, shiploads upon shiploads arriving every day from the states, and selling on the wharf’s at San Francisco and Sacramento City for one half of what they cost in the states.
There is no distinction of classes in California; no respect is paid to one man more than another. I divide the people here into four classes. Merchants, including all kinds of storekeepers; gamblers, a very numerous and highly respectable portion of the community; miners and loafers. The loafers are those who do any kind of work. I was a loafer at San Francisco, now I am a miner; however, I am at any moment liable to be turned out from the mines as I should have paid my license of 20 dollars per month, being a foreign miner, but as I cannot afford it just now, and as I know the Government authorities cannot get 1,000dol fine out of me, I take it very easy. It is rumored here that when the 50,000 men arrive from over the plains, they and the Yankee’s now working will turn out every foreigner, whether they have a license or not. I dare say they will do so, and there be much bloodshed if they try it on, for there are many Mexicans, Chilians, and English throughout the mines.”
“At present mining is confined to the ravines and small streams; dry diggings they are called; but first there is more water connected with digging out a hole in them than on the rivers. First we fix the cradle in a proper position for rocking, where the party rocking with one hand can with the other hold a ladle, and pour water on to the dirt in the sieve; then we dig a hole in the bed of the stream or at the side, dig down about a foot, and throw it away; the earth on the top of the rock is what we wash for the gold, so we scrape the rock always, but, as water keeps running in as fast as it can be baled out, the work is very hard, and we cannot wash above 50 or 60 bucketful’s per day here; on the rivers, two can wash 200 or 300 bucketful’s per day with comparative ease. After the dirt is put into the sieve it takes about three or four minutes rocking to free the gold and mud from the stones; then the sieve is taken out and the stones thrown away. The gold, mud and gravel are washed through the sieve down the apron into the first compartment of the cradle, the gold settles down, and the mud and gravel, by constant rocking, are washed out. We empty our cradle twice a day, by taking the plug out and letting the gold and mud drop through the bottom into the wash pan, which we hold under; then the wash pan is taken to some clear water and the gold washed free from everything but a little black sand, so we let it dry in the sun and then blow the sand away. Upon average, we get 1 dollars worth of gold dust to every 12 bucketful’s of dirt, that is about 8c per bucket. Now, it takes to work easy, 10c per bucket. I found a piece of gold the other day worth, in England about 1l; it is about one of the largest pieces found in this valley.”
“It is in my opinion that in the course of a few years all the gold regions in California will be bought from the United States Government by large capitalists, work will be erected for washing the gold wholesale, and men employed high wages, and that this country will flourish so long as the gold lasts; and it seems to be inexhaustible, for I have never yet washed a pan full of dirt in these mountains without finding some specks of gold; but it is a matter of great difficulty for two or three men to work in the sun, and all chance whether they wash out more gold than will pay expenses. Sickness also is a great drawback.”
“I like this half savage life for a change very well. It is really delightful, after a hard days work to sit in the evening by our cheerful log fire-spinning yarns and singing songs all round; but, with my little experience, I would not advise any one to leave 100l in England, with all the comforts and ease of a good house for California, if even they were to make 5,000 dollars here. No one likes this country: all come with the intention of making money and going home again; very few intend to settle.”
“The style of dress at the mines is pretty much the same all over the country: red flannel shirt, belt with knife and pistols, and mining boots pulled over the trousers, and a straw hat with a wide rim, that is the way I dress. My monkey jacket, one pair of blankes, and the clothes I stand in, with a change of flannels, compose my wardrobe.”
“San Francisco City is about 11/2 mile broad and two miles long. It is crowded at the waters edge. Piles are driven into the beach, and any quantity of houses built on them. Several ships run ashore, their mates cut away, and two or three stories built above the deck; a first rate house is made out the ship. Hundreds of fine ships are lying at anchor, entirely deserted; some sink at their anchors for want of pumping. San Francisco is very unhealthy on account, I suppose, of the cold north westers that blow every afternoon. Every forenoon the heat is intense, and in the afternoon you don’t feel half warm enough in a top coat. Sacramento city is a most unhealthy place, because it is built on a plain below the level of the river; all that they can do to render it healthy will be unavailing. The stench from offal, dead bullocks lying in the streets is sickening. It will be as bad as New Orleans this summer; yet Sacramento is a flourishing city, and the point from which all bullock teams, mule teams etc start for the mines. Teams seldom go higher than Coloma in this direction the roads are so steep across the mountains; so goods are packed on mules to go higher up in the country.
There are some hundreds of Indians camped all around us in the woods; several come through the towns every day. They are a miserable set of fellows, and all carry a bow and arrows. Their dress is in a shirt, tied with a string or belt round the waist. They are very fond of cutting off the tops of old boots and pulling them up their legs as far as they can. The Indian children mostly go without clothes; the lazy rascals let their poor squaws do all the work. I was out in the woods the other day shooting pigeons and quails for a French mess; I came across three Indian warriors, armed with bow and arrows. They are frightened of a white man with a gun but are sly assassins when they have the chance. They speak Spanish.”
By the time the gold rush and the dreams of vast wealth for ordinary men had come to its worthwhile end, ‘our John’ had travelled back to England.
The journey, the risk, and the hard work had paid off. John arrived back in England with a minimum of 10 ounces and 23 grains worth of gold, valued at approximately £41 pounds.
Kept safe on his person, John’s gold was a mixture of dust and nuggets. One piece was three quarters of an inch in thickness and nearly an inch long.
There are 480 grains in a troy ounce, meaning John was in possession of nearly 11 full troy ounces of raw wealth valued in 1863 at approximately $225.00.
The value of that gold today represents roughly $7,000 to $10,000 to give us some perspective.
Finding a nugget three-quarters of an inch thick and nearly an inch long was a rare and thrilling event. A nugget of those dimensions would have been a ‘trophy’ of his hard labour and success.
Fast forward fourteen years back to 1863 and John waking on the morning of the 14th of February 1863.
In the local newspaper that morning a small bold headline read –
“Loss of Gold“
John’s gold had somehow slipped from his pocket whilst he made his way home from Preston towards Longton. John noticed the absence of his treasure as he approached Penwortham Bridge. He retraced his steps to recover the gold but was unsuccessful. He went back again and again over the succeeding days, believing that it was close to Butler Street, where he had lost it. A week later, his misfortune was reported in the news as far as Cumbria.
What happened to the lost gold remains a mystery. John moved to Heapey, got married a year later and went back to farming.
Assuming John never recovered his treasure, I wonder if he felt he was the poorer for it. Perhaps he eventually accepted his lot. He was, after all, rich in the memories of an experience that was worth its weight in gold.
California gold rush – Credit Look & Learn
“Their journey, taken collectively, was the epic of the age, a saga of world history, an adventure on the largest scale. But their collective enterprise was the sum of hundreds of thousands of individual journeys, hundreds of thousands of small stories that changed the world by changing the lives of the men and women who travelled to California in pursuits of their common dream. For nearly all of them, the journey was the most difficult thing they had ever done, and far more difficult than they imagined on setting out. Not all survived the journey; those who did would never forget the trials they endured, the challenges they met, the companions they lost.” – The Age of Gold by H.W. Brands
Sources and recommended further reading:
Ancestry
Find my past
British Newspaper Archive
Newspapers.com
Taunton Courier & Western Advertiser – 4th Sept 1850
