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A NATURAL HISTORY of CALIFORNIA
A NATURAL HISTORY of
CALIFORNIA

Second Edition

Allan A. Schoenherr

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS

University of California Press, one of the most
distinguished university presses in the United States,
enriches lives around the world by advancing scholarship in
the humanities, social sciences, and natural sciences. Its
activities are supported by the UC Press Foundation and by
philanthropic contributions from individuals and
institutions. For more information, visit www.ucpress.edu.

University of California Press

Oakland, California

© 2017 by The Regents of the University of California

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Schoenherr, Allan A., author.

Title: A natural history of California / Allan A.
Schoenherr.
Description: Second edition. | Oakland, California :
University of California Press, [2017] | Includes
index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017005894 (print) | LCCN
2017008534 (ebook) | ISBN 9780520295117
(cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780520290372 (pbk.
: alk. paper) | ISBN 9780520964556 (epub and
ePDF)
Subjects: LCSH: Natural history—California.
Classification: LCC QH105.C2 S36 2017 (print) |
LCC QH105.C2 (ebook) | DDC 508.794—dc23
LC record available at
https://lccn.loc.gov/2017005894

Manufactured in United States of America

25 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
CONTENTS

Acknowledgments
Preface
Introduction
Plates

1 • CALIFORNIA’S NATURAL REGIONS

2 • BASIC ECOLOGY
3 • BASIC GEOLOGY
4 • SIERRA NEVADA
5 • MOUNTAINTOPS
6 • PACIFIC NORTHWEST
7 • COAST RANGES
8 • CISMONTANE SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA: MAINLAND
AND ISLANDS
 9 • CALIFORNIA’S DESERTS
10 • THE GREAT CENTRAL VALLEY
11 • INLAND WATERS AND ESTUARIES

Epilogue
Noteworthy Publications
Index
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

For fear of forgetting someone, I am tempted not to

acknowledge anyone’s help on this book. However, with a
project of this size, it is obvious that quite a few people had
something to do with the outcome. With this in mind, I hope
that the friends, colleagues, and acquaintances that were
inadvertently overlooked will understand how much I
appreciate their help.
For starters, I am indebted to the administration of
Fullerton College for providing me with a sabbatical leave,
during which time I wrote the first draft. Second, Debbie
Horrocks and Amy Gigliotti converted the typewritten first
draft to word-processed versions. I am also deeply indebted
to Fullerton College computer wizards such as Kent
Gordon, Co Ho, Vinh Ho, Geoff Clifton, and Bill Dalphy, who
tirelessly gave their time to jury-rig equipment and write
programs enabling me to incorporate numerous revisions
with minimal effort and convert all my computer files to a
single format.
Unless otherwise noted, all photographs are mine. For
contributions of art, I appreciate the work of Karlin Grunau
Marsh, Phil Lingle, Geoff Smith of Fullerton College, Pat
Brame of Eaton Canyon Nature Center, and Philip Brown of
the Southwestern Herpetologists Association. Further
thanks go to those many persons cited in text who gave me
permission to use work from previously published
materials.
For their sage advice and comments on writing style, I
am deeply appreciative to the following persons: Diana
Cosand from Chaffee College and Chuck Leavell of
Fullerton College, for their help with the sections on basic
ecology; Peter Tresselt, formerly of Fullerton College, Rick
Lozinsky of Fullerton College, and N. King Huber of the US
Geological Survey, for their help with the sections on
geology; Alan Romspert of the California State University
Desert Studies Consortium and Lenny Vincent of Fullerton
College, for help with Chapter 9, on deserts; and Phil Pister
of the California Department of Fish and Wildlife for his
extremely helpful review of Chapter 11, on inland waters.
In preparation of the second edition, I am indebted to
colleagues such as Mick Bondello, Chuck Leavell, Doug
Allan, Rick Lozinsky, and Lenny Vincent who kindly read
and made beneficial suggestions.
 Finally, I am indebted to Art Smith and Ernest
Callenbach, editors from the University of California Press,
who provided invaluable assistance and encouragement at
all stages in the development of the first edition. I am
thankful for the encouragement of Blake Edgar from the
University of California Press, without which I would not
have undertaken the effort to do a second edition.
PREFACE

In 1992, when the first edition of this book was published,

the University of California Press, in celebration of entering
the second century of publishing, honored A Natural
History of California among 100 “Centennial Books”
published between 1990 and 1995. A special imprint
opposite the title page declared that special honor. It has
been 25 years since the first edition of this book was
written. During that time, several things have changed that
should be addressed. For starters, associated with a
revolution in DNA technology, there has been a serious
realignment of biological taxa. Not only have many species
names been changed, but there has also been significant
reassignment within families. Several strange relationships
have appeared. For example, Maples and Buckeyes are now
in the Soapberry family, Sapindaceae. Some familiar
families have been broken up. For example, the Figwort or
Snapdragon family, Scrophulariaceae, is now broken up
into three families. Bee Plant, Scrophularia, and Mullein,
Verbascum, are still “Scrophs,” but the Bush
Monkeyflowers, Mimulus spp., are in the Lopseed family,
Phrymaceae. The Broomrape family, Orobanchaceae, now
includes Broomrape (Orobanche), Bird’s Beak
(Cordylanthus), Lousewort (Pedicularis), and Paintbrush
and Owl’s-clover (Castilleja spp.). The Plantain family,
Plantaginaceae, includes Snapdragons (Antirrhinum),
Chinese-houses (Collinsia), Ghost Flower (Mohavea), Bush
Penstemon (Keckiella), and all the herbaceous Penstemons
(Penstemon spp.). The Lily family, Liliaceae, has been split
into at least six families. Remember the Lily family? About
all that remains in the Lily family are Mariposa Lilies
(Calochortus spp.). Now, Agaves, Yuccas, and Desert Lilies
(Hesperocallis) are in the Agavaceae. Onions and garlics
are in the Alliaceae. Beargrasses (Nolina spp.) are in the
Butcher’s-broom family, Ruscaceae. The Brodiaea family,
Themidaceae, includes Brodiaeas (Brodiaea spp.),
Goldenstars (Bloomeria spp.), and Blue Dicks
(Dichelostemma spp.). Most of the garden varieties such as
Daffodils, Paper Whites, Narcissus, and Naked Ladies are
now in the Amaryllis family, Amaryllidaceae.
There have been many changes in animal taxonomy as
well. Not only have many of the familiar genera and species
names been changed, but there have been family
realignments as well. For example, in the past, many of our
familiar lizards have been in the Iguana family, Iguanidae.
Desert Iguanas (Dipsosaurus) and Chuckwallas
(Sauromalus) are still Iguanas, but the Collared Lizards
(Crotaphytus) and the Leopard Lizards (Gambelia) are now
in the Crotaphytidae. All the rest, at least seven genera of
common lizards, including Fence Lizards (Sceloporus) and
Side-blotched Lizards (Uta), are now in the Horned Lizard
family, Phrynosomatidae.
Essentially all of the traditional field guides are now out
of date. In order to compensate for that problem, I often
will include the new scientific name followed, in
parentheses, by the former scientific name of the various
plants and animals that I discuss. The concept, for naming
purposes, of making scientific names permanent by using
the “dead” languages Greek and Latin, in recent years, has
been upended with so many name changes. It is a bit ironic
that the unofficial “common names” of many species have
become more permanent than the scientific names.
Another big change for California is that many of the
regions and parks that I discuss have been reclassified by
federal and state agencies. For example, Death Valley,
Joshua Tree, and Pinnacles have been enlarged and
upgraded from National Monuments to National Parks, and
a large region of the east Mojave Desert has been
established as the Mojave National Preserve. Furthermore,
a number of lands administered by the US Forest Service
and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) have been
reclassified. For example, the San Gabriel Mountains,
Berryessa Snow Mountain, and Giant Sequoia in the Sierra
National Forest have been upgraded to National
Monuments and will be administered by the National Park
Service.
In 1994, with passage of the Desert Protection Act, the
total area of California classified as wilderness was brought
to 14 million acres (56.656 km2). In addition to the national
parks mentioned above, 69 Wilderness Study Areas on BLM
land, many of them scenic isolated mountain ranges,
officially became classified as wilderness. In February
2016, three new national monuments in the Mojave Desert
added 1.8 million acres (7284 km2) of federal protection.
The specter of climate change also has changed much of
the information about California’s natural areas. Drought
and warmth have stressed our ecosystems to the point that
the future of California and its landscapes must be
discussed. Fire regimes and intensity have changed.
Species composition of ecological communities has
changed, and will continue to change. Uphill and
northward distribution of plant communities is already
underway. Invasion of nonnative species has altered our
natural plant communities, which also changes species
composition and fire frequency. The epilogue addresses
these issues.
Although not necessarily new, there have also been
changes in ecological thinking. As the distribution and
composition of natural communities becomes changed,
there is a group of ecological concepts that need to be
addressed. Subjects such as ecological islands, patch size,
habitat fragmentation, keystone species, mesopredator
release, and trophic cascades will be incorporated where
appropriate.
Finally, research on animals, plants, and their
interactions in ecosystems has continued during the
interval since publication of the first edition of A Natural
History of California. There are many new stories to tell
about natural history in California and those stories will be
incorporated as much as possible in this new edition.
Hopefully readers will find this material as useful and
interesting as they have in the past.
INTRODUCTION

A natural history is an account of natural phenomena. Over

300 years before Christ was born, Aristotle wrote his
Historia Animalium, a series of nine books on the anatomy
and habits of many animals native to Greece. In A.D. 77,
Pliny the Elder, a Roman, wrote the 37-volume Natural
History in an attempt to compile an encyclopedia of all
known natural phenomena. For over 1500 years, this work
served as the basic reference for information about
“nature.” Ever since then, the expression “natural history”
has been used to refer to a description of living organisms,
their habits, and how they relate to the environment.
A more modern term used to describe organisms and
their relationships with the environment is “ecology.” The
literal meaning of this word is “study of the house.” In this
context, “house”’ means the environment. This book easily
could have been entitled The Ecology of California, because
it is about the creatures and the environment in the state of
California. In recent years, however, ecology has become a
highly theoretical and technical science, and it does not
encompass a study of rocks and geologic history. This book
includes a description of organisms, rocks, and the
environment, and an attempt to explain what factors
through time created what we see today. The facts behind
the concepts that are stressed in this book have been
drawn from ecology, zoology, botany, biogeography,
climatology, paleontology, and geology. Therefore, it seems
best to call it a natural history.
California is a highly complex geographic unit. There is
more climatic and topographic variation in California than
in any other region of comparable size in the United States.
The highest and lowest points in the lower 48 states are
less than 100 mi (160 km) from each other in eastern
California. Mount Whitney, figure 4.11 located on the crest
of the Sierra Nevada, at an elevation of 14,505 ft (4421 m),
is only 84.6 mi (136.2 km) west of Badwater in Death
Valley, which is 282 ft (86 m) below sea level. Interestingly,
the US Geological Survey brass benchmark on the summit
of Mount Whitney indicates an elevation of 14,494 ft (4418
m). The new designation is the product of new techniques
for estimating elevation.
California also has a great range of climates. The Sunset
Western Garden Book (Lane Publishing Co.) describes 24
different climatic zones within the state. Outside of
California, few states have more than four zones, and most
have only one.
Total precipitation per year of more than 120 in (300 cm)
may commonly occur in the northwestern forests.
Honeydew in northern California has recorded the highest
average annual precipitation of 104.18 in (264.6 cm),
although the official record for annual precipitation, 161 in
(403 cm), occurred in the Santa Lucia Mountains of the
southern Coast Ranges. In the southwestern deserts, it is
not uncommon for some locations to go several years
without measurable precipitation. Bagdad, a now-deserted
community on old Route 66 in the Mojave Desert, was
reported to be the driest place in the United States. No
measurable precipitation was recorded for 25 months. The
lowest official record for annual precipitation of 1.6 in (4.06
cm) is held by Death Valley.
The range of temperatures in California is also extreme.
Subzero temperatures may continue for many days at high
elevations in the mountains, and Furnace Creek in Death
Valley, at 134°F (57°C), holds the record for the highest
official air temperature ever recorded. A slightly higher
temperature for a location in Libya is sometimes touted as
the highest, but in recent years it has been determined that
the record was erroneous.
The geologic picture of California is also very complex.
Most of the state is composed of a mélange of rock units
from different sources, and of different ages, that became
attached to its western border as North America slid
westward over the floor of the Pacific Ocean. Tremendous
forces have stretched and warped the land, so that
California today is a mixture of mountains and valleys of
diverse origin cut through by major fault systems. Lands
west of the San Andreas fault, for example, have slid to
their present position from a point adjacent to mainland
Mexico, perhaps as much as 300 mi (480 km) to the south.
The dominant topographic feature of California, the Sierra
Nevada, which in eastern California runs on a
predominantly north to south direction for approximately
400 mi (640 km) is composed primarily of granitic rocks.
The great variety of rock materials degrade to form a
corresponding variety of soils. Soils of different mineral
content and texture have a profound influence on plants
and animals. A particular soil type may have its own
specially adapted community of organisms.
The combination of diverse climate and diverse soil is
responsible for the development of a diversity of habitats.
The total number of habitat types varies, depending on
whether the classifier is a splitter or a lumper. For example,
the California Natural Heritage Section recognizes about
300 natural communities, and the California Department of
Fish and Wildlife recognizes 178 major habitat types. This
book shall consider about 35 terrestrial communities
modified from a system developed by Munz and Keck in
1959. Furthermore, about 15 different aquatic communities
will be discussed.
 Many specialized plants and animals are found in
California. There are more endemic species in California
than in any area of equivalent size in North America. There
are more than 6000 native plants in California, and about a
third of them occur naturally nowhere else on earth.
Among vertebrate animals, there are nearly 1000 native
species. Depending on how a person classifies the species,
that number includes about 540 birds, 214 mammals, 77
reptiles, 47 amphibians, and 83 freshwater fishes. Of these,
65 species are considered to be endemic. Among animals
as a whole, including insects and other invertebrates, at
least 50% of the species and subspecies are confined within
the borders of the state.
The reason for writing a book of this type is to familiarize
readers with this special place called California. After
reading it, a person should be able to describe the climate,
rocks, soil, plants, animals, and biogeography of any area in
California. The reader should be able to explain how those
things got there and the ways in which they relate to each
other.
Another, no less important reason for writing a book of
this type is to foster appreciation for California’s natural
diversity. Much of California’s nature is threatened. The
Nature Conservancy has reported that about 25% of the
state can no longer support its original communities of
plants and animals. Since 1900, 65% of the state’s coastal
wetlands have been dredged, filled, or drained. Riparian
forests of the Great Central Valley, which once covered
hundreds of square miles, are nearly gone, and some
specialized communities, such as Southern Coastal Dune
Scrub, have been reduced to only a few hundred acres. Not
only does California have the greatest number of unique
organisms in the continental United States, but it also has
the highest number of threatened species, many of which
are among the unique or endemic ones. Over 600 kinds of
plants are listed as threatened with extinction. The greatest
threat to California’s natural ecosystems is growth of the
human population. California already is the most populous
state. About 70% of these people live within a few miles of
the coast, with the greatest concentration of humans in the
San Francisco Bay area and South Coast from Los Angeles
to San Diego. The Great Central Valley, while mostly
associated with agriculture, also has population centers
such as Fresno and Sacramento. So, in spite of the threats
mentioned above, over half of California’s landscape is
comparatively undisturbed. According to the California
Protected Areas Database, 52% is public land, and 46.7% of
California is classified as “protected.” California has more
officially designated wilderness, 14.36% of its area, than
any state outside of Alaska.
This book is organized around geographic regions using,
as a starting point, 12 geomorphic provinces described by
the California Geological Survey (previously known as
California Division of Mines and Geology). Superimposed
on these regions are the natural biotic provinces based on
climate and living organisms. The result is a sequence of
chapters in which various regions of the state are
characterized with respect to climate, geology, and biotic
communities. Animals and plants are discussed using
recent standardized common and scientific names
wherever possible. Standardized vocabulary is also used for
geologic formations.
In no part of this book is the treatment of plants,
animals, and geologic units meant to be exhaustive. In each
region, the emphasis is on those things that are
conspicuous, distinctive, and/or interesting. In cases where
an organism, a community, or a rock unit occurs in more
than one geographic area, it is discussed in the context in
which it seems to be most significant.
Every attempt has been made to ensure that facts and
concepts presented here are based on the most up-to-date
references. However, there is a good deal of disagreement
among experts, particularly about evolutionary
relationships, biogeography, and geologic history. If errors
or discrepancies seem to occur, or if more information is
desired, the reader is encouraged to consult the references
at the back of the book.
P L AT E 1California’s generalized vegetation cover (from
Keeler-Wolf, T. 2003. An Atlas of the Biodiversity of
California. State of California, The Resources Agency,
Department of Fish and Game, p.19).
P L AT E 2Distribution of selected bedrock types (from
Kauffman, E. 2003. An Atlas of the Biodiversity of
California. State of California, the Resources Agency,
Department of Fish and Game, p.17).
 Yosemite National Park, Mixed Coniferous
P L AT E 3 A
Forest in winter.
P L AT E 3 B Emerald Bay State Park, Lake Tahoe
 Joshua Tree Woodland and granitic boulders,
P L AT E 4 A
Joshua Tree National Park.
 Cactus Scrub featuring Ocotillo, Barrel Cacti,
P L AT E 4 B
and Desert Brittlebush, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park.
P L AT E 5General Sherman, the largest tree in the world,
in winter, Sequoia National Park.
Another random document with
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"Nothing now; the men have taken their grog, and promised to do
their duty wherever we go."
This was heavy news to me, for I had no reason to doubt the truth of
it. If the men drank their grog, I was satisfied in my own mind that
they had given up the battle. If they drank liquor they could be won
over to almost anything, for the mate could give them enough to
make demons of them.
"How are you, Phil?" said Waterford, in a mocking tone, as he
entered the steerage.
"As well as usual, excepting these bonds," I replied.
"I have you now where I want you, and I have come down to tell you
the news."
"I heard you tell it to the captain just now. It is not necessary to repeat
it."
"All right if you know which way the wind blows. You have been the
cause of all the mischief on board."
"I am sorry you took so much pains to keep me on board then."
"I have my reasons for all I do. I would rather have six devils than one
psalm-singer in my crew. As soon as the men knew you were safe,
they caved in, drank their grog like sailors, and now they are willing to
do their duty."
"Willing to help you run a cargo of slaves over to Cuba," I repeated.
"Yes; that's just what they are willing to do; and you will be of the
same mind before I have done with you."
"I hope not; though I don't know how much I am able to bear."
"Nor I; neither do I care. You shall have enough of it before you are
done. But I did not come here to pass compliments with you."
"I did not suspect you of any such intention."
"I'm glad you know me," he continued, seating himself on the
steward's berth. "I'm not an angel."
"You needn't have said that."
"Nor are you."
"I am not."
"But when a man uses me well, I am his friend."
"I pity your friend."
"None of your impudence, Phil. It's my next move."
"You said we were not to pass compliments."
"Have a care what you say. I'm not an angel; I'm not a psalm-singer;
and I don't pretend to be what I am not."
"You serve the devil, and are proud of your master," I replied, wishing
to prove that I was not ashamed of what I had done, nor sorry for it.
"There is no cant about me. You are a thief and a liar, in spite of your
cant."
"You are coming to the compliments, after all. Woe unto you when all
men shall speak well of you."
"All men don't speak well of you. I say you are a thief and liar."
"I appreciate the compliment."
"You stole my money, and then lied to me about it."
"I have nothing to say."
"You will have something to say before I am done with you," he
added, with a fierce oath, as he sprang to his feet. "You robbed my
trunk, and took fifteen hundred dollars in gold from it. Do you know
how to speak the truth?"
"I have always succeeded tolerably well in doing so."
"What did you do with the money you took from my trunk?"
"I should feel obliged to speak the truth if I said anything."
"You had better do it. I know that the money I lost was in my trunk
when I left my state-room, the day I put you in there."
"I had a similar confidence in regard to my own trunk on a certain
occasion," I answered.
"I'm not to be trifled with. I'll give you till to-morrow morning to make
up your mind. If you don't tell me then what you did with that money,
I'll give you the rope's end every hour till you are willing to answer
me."
"I will think of it."
"If you have thrown it overboard, I will throw you over after it."
"What makes you think I threw it overboard?"
"Because I found that the bull's eye in my state-room had been
opened."
"Did you lose all the money in your trunk?"
"No; you know I didn't."
"You ought to be thankful that I did not take what did not belong to
me. I should have done so if I had suspected to what use that money
was to be applied."
"No cant to me!"
"Perhaps you will be willing to own that you stole the money I took
from your trunk out of mine."
"I am; I do own it; and in due time it will buy fifteen or twenty niggers,
and pay me five hundred per cent."
"Never, if I can help it!"
"You can't help it. I don't believe you were fool enough to throw the
money overboard; and you will be glad to tell me where it is within
twenty-four hours."
I could not say that I should not; for, between fifteen hundred dollars
and being beaten to death, I should certainly choose to give up the
former.
"I suppose the money you obtained by forgery in St. Louis will be
used in buying negroes."
"Humph, Phil! You grow wise."
"A simple matter; my father wrote me that you were suspected."
"Did he, indeed?"
"He seemed to be interested, and I told him all I knew about it."
"If you are ready to tell me now where the money is, I can give you an
easier position for the night, Phil," said he, in gentler tones.
"I am not ready," I replied.
"Think well of it, for I shall do all I say I will," said he, leaving the
steerage.
I did not doubt it.
 CHAPTER XVII.
IN WHICH PHIL BECOMES BETTER
ACQUAINTED WITH THE CABIN STEWARD.
I was alone again. I felt that we had lost our case. The men had
given up the battle, drank their grog, and, under the influence of
liquor, would be as willing to trade in human beings as to perform
their ordinary duty. I could do nothing single-handed, and I might as
well give up before I had suffered the tortures of the mate's wrath as
afterwards. I would yield no principle, I would take no part in handling
the vessel, but I would tell the mate where my gold was. I actually
shuddered when I thought of having the money which I had earned
by my labor applied to the purchase of human beings; but I did not
see how I could help myself, for after I had been beaten and abused,
my money was still likely to be found when the between-decks was
prepared for the reception of the miserable wretches whose flesh
and blood were to enrich Waterford and his infamous companions.
I looked around the steerage. It was fitted up with eight berths, but at
present it was occupied only by the cabin steward, whose
sympathies were with our party, though he had not yet committed
himself. I afterwards learned the use to which this steerage was to
be applied. As only a few of the crew could safely be informed of the
nature of the unlawful voyage before they were shipped, of course
not all of them could be expected to engage in the dangerous
business without compulsion, and they were liable, as in the present
instance, to ship a majority who would rather fight than incur the peril
of being hanged or imprisoned for being concerned in it. But the
officers were sure of five men,—the Spanish and Portuguese sailors,
—for they had signed the shipping articles with their eyes wide open.
Indeed, they had been employed to put down a mutiny, as well as to
work the bark. It was not desirable to separate the crew; but, when it
became necessary, those in the interests of the officers, or a
sufficient number of them to enable the captain and mate to enforce
their authority, were to be berthed in the steerage, where they could
at all times be within hail of their superiors.
This plan is often, if not always, adopted in whalemen, where boat-
steerers are regarded as officers, and are berthed in the steerage, in
order to be used in subduing the crew in the event of any
insubordination. I glanced about the place, and I found that it was
also used as the armory. When I first came on board, I had seen no
arms; but now there were four muskets, several pistols, and half a
dozen cutlasses hung upon the bulkhead. Probably they had been
brought out from their hiding-places since the disturbance with the
crew. I wondered that the Spanish and Portuguese sailors were not
already installed in their quarters; but I supposed the mate wished to
have them mingle with the other hands forward as long as possible,
so as to take note of any disaffection, and report it to him.
While I was looking about me, the cabin steward came into the
steerage with my supper. His name was Palmer, and he was an
American. He had a very light and fair complexion; and, though I had
not seen much of him on board, I judged that he was a little inclined
to be a dandy. He was about twenty-five years of age, and was
certainly a very good-looking fellow—which he evidently believed
himself.
"I am sorry for you, Phil," said he, as he placed his dishes in one of
the berths.
"Are you really so?" I asked.
"I am, indeed; and if I dared to do so, I would let you go at once."
"You haven't the courage to do that, then?"
"The mate would murder me if I did."
"Then it does not make much difference how sorry you are for me," I
added, rather despondent.
"I only wished to express my sympathy for you, and to say that, if I
could, I would let you loose."
"I suppose you know what kind of a voyage this bark is bound
upon?"
"I do; the mate told me yesterday, and I have heard enough said in
the cabin before to make me understand all about it," answered the
steward.
"Do you like the business?"
"No, I don't; but what can I do?"
"I don't know that you can do anything."
"If I had known what the voyage was to be, I would have hung
myself rather than come on board. I have a little African blood in my
veins, though I don't say much about it generally."
"Whether you have African blood in your veins or not, you must
dislike a voyage like this. What did the mate say to you?"
"He told me I might loose one of your hands to let you eat your
supper, but he would shoot me if I let you escape from the steerage,"
said he, unfastening the cord which bound my right arm to the
stanchion.
"Can't you ease off the other just a little? The cord hurts my wrist
very much."
"I'll do that."
He loosed the line, and thus to some extent relieved the pain I felt.
He handed me some tea, bread and meat, of which I ate while we
were talking.
"Where is the mate now?" I inquired.
"On deck."
"And the captain?"
"Drunk in his state-room. He came out to supper, but he did not eat
anything; only drank two half tumblers of whiskey, and then turned
in. I think the mate wishes to keep him drunk as much as possible,
so that he won't meddle with the affairs of the vessel," replied the
steward, in a whisper.
"Where are the two passengers?"
"They are on the deck with the mate."
"Do you know who they are?"
"I only know that they are Spaniards or Cubans. From what I hear
them say, I judge that they and the mate find the money to buy the
negroes, while the vessel and the captain have a share of the
profits."
"Have they the money on board?"
"I don't know anything about it from what they say; but of course they
have."
"You say the mate told you about the voyage yesterday. What did he
say?"
"He didn't say much; and I think he spoke of it because I couldn't
help hearing what was said in the cabin. He only told me to do my
duty, and I should make a thousand dollars out of the cruise."
"What did you say?"
"I told him I should do my duty. I was afraid of him, and I let him
believe that I didn't care whether the bark went a slaving or not. I
have always kept on the right side of him, but I hate him worse than I
hate the evil one. If I hadn't a mother on shore to take care of, I'd
sink the ship, and go down in her, rather than have anything to do
with slaving."
"Are you a spy, sent here by the mate to sound me?" I added,
suddenly, looking him in the face very earnestly.
"That's too bad, Phil!" said he, springing to his feet. "I only pity you
because you stood out against the mate, and against slaving."
"You say you have kept on the right side of the mate?"
"I have, for my own comfort and safety. My mother was a slave—but
no matter about that," he added; and before I knew what he was
about, he had unloosed my left hand.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
"If you think I am a spy, I will prove to you that I am not. I will set you
free, though it costs me my life."
"Don't do it, Palmer. Pardon me for what I said. You need not wonder
that I am suspicious in a vessel like this."
"I don't wonder; but you shall not suspect me, if I can do anything to
prevent it."
"I do not suspect you any longer. I am satisfied that you are a good
fellow, and true at heart. But put the cords on as you found them; I
will not get you into trouble, whatever happens to me."
"No, you shall be free. Perhaps you can bring the men up to the
scratch again, for they have all backed down. They drank their grog
when I gave it to them this afternoon."
"If you are really my friend,—and I know you are now,—you can
serve me better than by loosing my bonds at this moment."
"I will do just what you tell me to do," replied the steward.
"I have full confidence in you. Tie my hands up just as you found
them, only not quite so tight."
He followed my directions; and, as I had finished my supper, he
made fast my right arm to the stanchion. I had my doubts about
trusting this man with the secret of the crew; but, since our party had
given in their adherence to the mate, and the plan had been
practically abandoned, so far as I knew, I did not feel that I need
distrust him.
"Palmer, where do you sleep?" I asked.
"Here," he replied, pointing to his berth.
"What time do you turn in?"
"Any time when I can; sometimes at eight bells, sometimes at two."
"What time do the mate and the passengers turn in?"
"Mr. Waterford always turns in at eight when he has the mid-watch.
The Spaniards sometimes sit up till eleven, but generally turn in by
ten. Why do you ask, Phil?"
"If you really wish to serve me, Palmer, you can do so."
"I'll do anything you tell me, even if it costs me my life; for I would
rather die than be in a slave ship. My mother—no matter about that.
She was a slave once, and I never will help any man or woman into
slavery if I can avoid it."
"All right, Palmer. You may be able to save the bark from this
miserable business. But I will not say anything more now."
"What shall I do?" asked the steward, not a little excited.
"Don't turn in till all is quiet in the cabin. The second mate has the
first watch to-night. Give the captain all the whiskey he wants, and
when the mate and passengers have turned in, and you think they
are asleep, then come into the steerage and let me know."
"I will do all just as you say."
"Don't bring any lights, and don't act as though anything had
happened. Go now."
"You may depend upon me, Phil. I meant to take sides with your men
as soon as I dared to do so."
"Hold on a minute, Palmer. Are there any guns or pistols in the
cabin?"
"The Spaniards have revolvers in their state-rooms, and they loaded
them this forenoon, when the row on deck took place."
"We don't want to kill any one, or have any one killed. If you could
draw the charges from their revolvers, and bring their ammunition in
here, you might help matters."
"What do you mean to do, Phil?" asked the steward, opening his
eyes very wide.
"We haven't time to talk about it now; but if there is any back-bone
left in the men, we will have the bark before morning," I whispered in
his ear.
"I'll do all I can."
"Where are the powder and ball for these guns and pistols?" I asked.
"Here, in that box in the corner."
"All right."
The cabin steward left the steerage, and I felt that I had an ally
whose aid made success hopeful, if not certain. I was excited by the
prospect. I intended, as soon as all was quiet in the cabin, to make
my way to the forecastle through the between-decks, and stir up the
men to carry out the project we had arranged. Right and justice, as
well as self-preservation, demanded action.
 CHAPTER XVIII.
IN WHICH PHIL AND OTHERS VISIT THE CABIN
OF THE BARK.
I did not believe it would require a great deal of eloquence to bring
our party back to a sense of their duty, and I waited impatiently for the
time of action. The steerage grew dark, and presently the mate, with
a lantern in his hand, appeared. He looked over the cords by which I
was made fast to the stanchion, to satisfy himself that the steward
had left me secure for the night.
"You are all right, Phil; but I don't think you will sleep very well here,"
said he.
"I don't expect to sleep."
"Have you anything to say yet?"
"No, sir; not yet."
"I always took you for a sensible fellow; but I see I was mistaken."
"We are all liable to mistakes," I replied, feeling the necessity of
saying something.
"You can sleep in one of those berths, if you prefer."
"I do prefer it."
"Then tell me where the money is, and I will let you loose."
"The money belongs to me."
"I don't wish to argue the matter. If you want to sleep in a berth, you
can do so by telling me where the money is."
"I think you ought to let me have my own money, Mr. Waterford. I
worked hard—"
"No cant. I see you are not ready to tell yet. If you get tired of your
situation before morning, you can call the steward, who sleeps here,
and he will let me know. I have the mid-watch, and I'm going to turn in
now. It's no use to waste time talking with you."
I did not wish him to waste any time in this profitless manner; so I
said nothing, and he left me to my hard fate. Since Palmer had
loosed my bonds I was tolerably comfortable, though the pitching of
the bark occasionally threw the strain of the ropes upon my arms. I
heard no more from the mate, and I supposed he had turned in; but
the steward did not come as soon as I expected. I heard two bells on
deck, which indicated nine o'clock; but I concluded that the Spaniards
in the cabin had not yet turned in.
The steerage was pitch dark, and I could not see a thing; but soon
after I heard two bells, there was a sound not more than a mouse
might have made in his nocturnal perambulations in search of
cheese. I listened attentively, and was soon conscious that some one
was in the steerage with me.
"Phil," said a whispered voice, when I began to be not a little excited
over the circumstance.
"Who's there?" I replied, in a tone as low and guarded, for I was
willing to believe that the visitor was a friend until he had proved
himself to be a foe.
"Where are you?"
"Here."
I listened and heard the suppressed breathings of the person; and
presently I felt his hand laid upon me. I had a further opportunity to
exercise my senses, for I could smell rum very distinctly.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"Don't you know me? I'm Jack Sanderson," replied the visitor. "We
want you on deck."
"I thought you had all caved in."
"Not a bit of it, Phil. We are all as true as the compass."
"You have been drinking."
"Only a nip or two each; but we are all right. We pretended to cave in,
but we didn't, Phil. Now let me cut your ropes."
"No; not yet, Jack. You will spoil everything if you move too soon."
"What do you mean? Have you caved in, Phil?"
"No; but I have a friend in the cabin."
"Who?"
"Palmer, the steward."
"Good!"
"As soon as all hands in the cabin have turned in, he will loose me,
and then we shall be ready for you. Are the men all right?"
"Every one of them."
"Now leave me, Jack. If you like, you can stay between decks till the
steward comes, and then I will join you."
"All right, Phil."
Sanderson left me, and I was now thoroughly satisfied that the
scheme would be a success; I did not see how it could fail. The mate
evidently depended too much upon the instinctive subordination of
sailors, and appeared to have taken no special precautions for the
safety of the bark and his wicked project. The men had promised to
do their duty, which he interpreted as one thing and they as another.
The drinking of their grog was doubtless enough to convince him that
the crew were converted to his scheme.
I heard three bells, and then four; but Palmer did not come, and I
began to question whether I had not made a mistake in trusting him
as far as I had. I was sorry that I had not permitted Sanderson to
unfasten me, for then I might have availed myself of any chance that
offered if the steward was faithless. But I wronged him again. Before
five bells, he came with a lantern in one hand, and a couple of
revolvers in the other. He carefully closed the door behind him as he
entered, and laid the pistols in his berth.
"I was afraid you were not coming," I whispered; "but you are as true
as steel."
"I am, Phil. You needn't have any doubts of me. The passengers
didn't turn in till ten o'clock. They have been drinking and playing
cards."
"Are they asleep?"
"I reckon they are; they snore, at any rate. They were both tight, and
only quit their game when the liquor had made them so sleepy they
didn't know a jack from an ace."
"How's the captain?"
"Drunk as an owl. I gave him a whole tumblerful of whiskey at two
bells, and he won't know anything till morning."
"How is it on deck?"
"The second mate is on the watch, of course. It is almost calm, and
Waterford was afraid of that steamer we saw to-day. I heard him tell
the second mate to keep two men on the cross-trees, with an eye to
windward. He made him send Gorro and Martino up, for he wouldn't
trust any other men in the watch."
"Good! That will save us the trouble of knocking them on the head,
which we don't want to do," I replied, as Palmer untied the cords
which fastened me to the stanchion.
In a moment more I was free, and the steward handed me one of the
revolvers.
"Take this; you may want it," said he. "It isn't worth while to be too
nice in a scrape of this kind. The mate or those Spaniards would
murder any of us, if it was necessary, as easy as they would turn a
hand."
"I shall use it if the case requires; but I hope it will not be necessary to
shoot any one. Sanderson has been down to see me."
"No!"
"Yes, he has. The men are as true as we could wish. But we won't
waste any time," I added, moving towards the door which led into the
between-decks. "Sanderson is close by, I suppose."
"But what am I to do?"
"Go with us into the cabin. We shall secure the mate first. Take those
lines with you, for we must tie him hand and foot."
"Do you know how the second mate stands?"
"He's all right, though he don't say much, being an officer. Baxter will
take care of him. While Martino and Gorro stay aloft, there will be
nothing to do on deck. Now wait here till we come."
I took his lantern, and went between decks, where I found Sanderson
as impatient as though he had been waiting for his grog.
"I was afraid something had happened," said he, in tremulous
accents.
"No; everything is as well as it could be; better than I anticipated.
Everybody in the cabin except the mate is drunk, and the steward
says Gorro and Martino are on the cross-trees."
"That's so."
"How are the men?"
"All right. I went out to the forecastle, and told them how it was with
you; but I thought you would never come."
"The Spaniards in the cabin did not turn in till four bells. But heave
ahead now; bring down the men who are to act with us."
"Ay, ay!"
"Tell Baxter he need do nothing on deck until we come up from the
cabin. Do you know who is at the helm?"
"Welsh; we put him there when Martino was sent aloft on the
lookout."
"He will know what we are about."
"But you had better go to the scuttle, and speak a word to Baxter. It
will make the men feel better to know you are all right."
"Very well, I will; but we must not waste time. Everything is favorable
for the movement now, and we don't know how long it may be so."
I walked with Sanderson to the forecastle, leaving Palmer in the
steerage to warn us if anything went wrong in the cabin. Sanderson
whispered to Baxter that we were ready, and the four men who were
to join us came below.
"Don't do anything on deck, Baxter," I whispered. "Get our men out of
their berths and on deck as quietly as possible."
"They are all wide awake, and will come out when I rap on the
planks," replied the stout-hearted old salt.
"If Gorro and Martino attempt to come down from the cross-trees,
make a spread eagle of them on the main-rigging. Don't let the three
Spaniards come out of the forecastle."
"Ay, ay! But how about the second mate?" asked Baxter.
"In about ten minutes the work below will be done. By that time you
can tell him what we are about."
"What if he objects?"
"He won't object."
"But if he does?"
"Serve him as you do the others. Make him fast, hand and foot. Now
mind your eye."
I led the way aft, followed by my five companions. I had one of the
revolvers in my belt, and had given the other to Baxter, though I
cautioned him not to use it except in the last emergency. We all took
off our shoes, and left them between decks. We then entered the
steerage, where Palmer was nervously awaiting our arrival.
"What shall I do?" asked Palmer.
"Hold the light, and carry the ropes; nothing more. Sanderson and I
will take care of the mate."
"Has he a pistol in his state-room?" asked Jack.
"I don't know. Probably he has; but we won't mind a pistol. We will not
let him wake enough to know how to use it, if he has one. Are you all
ready?"
"Ay, ay!" whispered the men.
"Stay where you are, with the light, Palmer, until you hear a noise. I
know just where the room is, and I can find the mate in the dark."
I opened the door which led into the cabin, and crept cautiously aft till
I had reached the door of Waterford's room. I could hear the heavy
snoring of the captain, and I was satisfied that he would give us no
trouble. He was too drunk to resist us, and I had decided not to
meddle with him till we had secured the others.
I waited till all my companions were in the cabin; and then, closely
attended by Sanderson, I crept into the mate's state-room. I bent over
the berth, and, by his heavy breathing, ascertained where his head
lay. I then placed my right hand upon his throat, and with my left
thrust a handkerchief into his mouth, so that he could not cry out. At
the same instant, Sanderson seized his hands, and the mate was
secure.
Securing the Mate.
 CHAPTER XIX.
IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS COMPANIONS OBTAIN
POSSESSION OF THE MICHIGAN.
Jack Sanderson was a powerful man, and when he had seized the
hands of Waterford, he threw his body upon that of his victim.
Resistance was useless and hopeless. The mate struggled, until his
breath and his strength were exhausted, and then he gave it up. I
had choked him so hard, that the want of breath very soon
weakened him.
"Show the men where the Spaniards are!" I called to Palmer.
But he had already indicated to the rest of our party in the cabin the
room of the two passengers. I heard a slight struggle in that
direction, but it was soon over, and I was satisfied that our men had
effectually done their work.
"The cords, Palmer!" I called to the steward.
"Here they are. Can I help you?"
"Yes; tie his hands together," I replied.
While the steward was thus engaged, I removed the handkerchief
from the mouth of the mate, for he was breathing with extreme
difficulty. He was so exhausted that he lay quite still until his hands
were made fast. But gradually he regained his breath and his
strength. He looked at me, and I saw that he understood the whole
matter without any explanation. His expression was ugly again, and I
was satisfied that we should have all the trouble with him which he
had the power to make.
"Put a line around each of his ankles, Sanderson," said I, when the
hands of the prisoner were securely bound.