TITLE: Three Lonely Graves in Yerba Buena Island, 1896.
SOURCE: San Francisco Chronicle, 9 February 1896, page 8.
TRANSCRIBER: SFgenealogy.
NOTES: Captain Lindsey's ship, the Palmyra, may be buried near Greenwich and Battery streets, San Francisco, Cal. See Ron Filion's Buried Ships of San Francisco.

“THREE LONELY GRAVES IN YERBA BUENA ISLAND.

“The Story of Its Early Settlement and Subsequent Occupation by the United States Government.

“THE TRANSBAY traveler may have observed on Yerba Buena island in passing on the Oakland ferry, standing out prominently-a white cameo on a turquoise sky—a small square of white crowning the very summit of the hill. Any one who may have seen it no doubt wondered for a moment what this small, white thing is, and then straightway may have forgotten it. Perhaps not a hundred out of the hundreds of thousands that pass and repass have ever had their curiosity whetted sufficiently to inquire as to what that small, white patch is. There are probably not a dozen persons who do not reside on the island that know.

“But there is a history connected with that thing so dimly seen in the distance—a history of a hope and its failure of fruition; the history of a claim that drags a slow and interminable length at Washington.

“That square of white encloses a grave.

“Geraniums and sweet mignionette, a few violets and a tangled mass of weeds and grass grow within the inclosure, almost hiding the headstone that marks it. Brush aside the verdure and one reads:

D. R. A. DOWLING, Died A. D. 1860.

“In the year 1853 Thomas Henry Dowling, perceiving the advantages of Yerba Buena Island, determined to establish his home there, and did so. He saw a fortune in the strategic position which the island occupies and in the stone of which it is composed. Accordingly he built him[self] a house and a dock and began the development of a quarry, residing there peacefully and without interference for many years. In the year 1860 one of the scows which were used for transporting stone to the city broke loose from its moorings in a storm. On that scow the child who lies buried on the hill was playing. The waves rose higher and higher in their fury. The scow was dashed against the rocks and the child swept overboard and drowned. When at last the remains were recovered they were buried where they now rest, on the hilltop.

“The Dowlings continued to reside on the island until the Government demanded and took possession. All the improvements made by the hardy pioneer and his boys were confiscated, and all his claims ignored. The hope of establishing there the foundation of a fortune died. A claim for damages was filed at Washington and dragged its slow course through various departments ever since, and seems little likely to come to an early conclusion. Thomas Henry Dowling, a brother of the boy buried on the hill, conducts a prosperous business at 219 Front street, and it is due to his offices that the little fence around the grave receives a new coat of white paint each year and that the flowers are attended to.

“When the Government seized the Dowling estate it was in order that it might establish there a training school for the Engineer Corps of the United States Army, and so the modest Dowling cottage was supplanted by more pretentious buildings and a detachment of the Engineer Corps was duly installed. Among those who came was a dashing young officer, who has since earned fame and his bride. There were other officers with their wives, and it was a gay set that gathered at the occasional entertainments there. It was at one of these the young bride learned that her husband, her hero who loved her no longer, had become infatuated with another. The sorrow that thus entered her young life grew, though she struggled against it. Try how she might her grief she could not banish. At last from the weight of it her young heart broke she died-a continent lay between her dead body and the grave of her ancestors. So they buried her here, on the hill overlooking Golden Gate, where she so often sat and gazed at the setting sun; buried her, but they raised no monument. All that remains to mark her last resting-place is four charred and blackened posts, which at one time supported a fence. He who should have been more faithful has won laurels since, but the neglected grave tells the story of his heartlessness. A few years more and even those black, forbidding posts will have disappeared, and the memory of even those who have lived upon the island for years will not enable one to definitely locate the spot. Not even a mound marks her resting-place, but she and her story remain in the memory of one at least, who told it to the writer.

“Among the earliest of the argonauts that sailed into the Golden Gate in search of the fleece was the stanch bark Edward, Captain Edward F. Lindsey. She hailed from Australia, and was laden with merchandise for San Francisco. Her skipper was her owner, and as he had disposed of his cargo profitably, he contented himself with a sojourn in the city.

“The beautiful island of Yerba Buena attracted his attention. and he made frequent excursions thither in his ship's boat, taking with him his wife and children, enjoying luncheon on grassy slopes and reveling in the beauties of the landscape that hourly revealed to him new phases. So thoroughly imbued with the beauties of the locality did he become that he oft repeated the wish to his companions that he might be buried there when he died.

“Frequently when captains of other vessels in port whom he knew called upon him, while giving them the best attention possible, he would take them for a day's outing on the island where they might gaze upon the glorious view that met the eye in every direction, and always did he repeat that heartfelt wish: 'Oh, that when I die, I might be buried in such a spot as this.'

“Moss-grown, hidden in a tangled mass of verdure, broken into three parts as by the blow of some miscreant lies a marble slab on the top of Yerba Buena. A 'Chronicle' reporter and artist lifted the stone from the earth, and at much pains restored it to an upright position. Then closely scrutinizing the face of it these words were finally deciphered, as having been cut in the stone originally:

Sacred To the memory of EDWARD F. LINDSEY, Formerly of England. Died in San Francisco, August 24, 1842, Aged 38 years. Also Their Beloved Son. EDWARD L. LINDSEY, Died in San Francisco, January 10, 1855, Aged 17 years. Erected by the bereaved widow and mother. Life, how short! Eternity, how long!

“There are yet relatives of Captain Lindsey residing in San Francisco, grandchildren who know of their grandfather only as they have been taught by their grandmother, who reverenced his memory. From them it is learned that both father and son were laid away in one grave and that the date, 1842, upon the tombstone, is an error; that Captain Lindsey died in 1852, and that the stone-cutter was to blame for that error. They know, too, that he was burled with pomp, the captains of many vessels joining in the services, and that he was conveyed thither in state.

“In the illustration accompanying this article will be seen a reproduction of what remains of what was once a headboard that marked the last resting place of a Russian, probably one of the laborers for the corps that occupied the island shortly after its evacuation by the Dowlings. All that could be learned of him is what the fragments of the wooden board, when placed together, reveal: 'Lai,' 'Loff' 'Sitka.' No one remembers him, there is no record of his death to be found; he is forgotten. The Greek cross on the headboard and the terminal 'loff' indicate that he was a Russian; beyond that all is guesswork, save that those who saw the board before it succumbed to the ravages of fire say that it showed him to be a Russian and a soldier.

“Captain Lenny, who has charge of the buoy station, and is the oldest inhabitant of the island, says that there are other graves on the island, many of them 'the graves of Indians.' It was a favorite burial spot for them, he thinks, for ever and anon, as the work of improvement compels the turning of a sod, a skull is turned up. He says, too, that another unmarked grave exists, that of the 'mate of the bark Melancthon,' who, in 1854, fell from the rigging on board ship and was killed.

“The following has been communicated by one of Captain Lindsey's children now residing in this city:

“Captain Edward F. Lindsey was born at London on February 11, 1813, and died at San Francisco, 1852. At 21 he commanded the ship Edward, which was owned by his uncle, and being engaged by the English Government to transport prisoners. He carried the first lot of female prisoners to Tasmania, and afterward brought his wife to Hobartown, Australia, where he engaged in the shipping business. He circumnavigated the earth four times. When the gold fever broke out in California he had a wild desire for a new country, and, buying a cargo which he thought would and could be easily disposed of in a new country, namely, bricks and lumber, he sailed in the ship Palmyra, of which he was master and sole owner. Accompanying him on this voyage were his wife and six children. They arrived at San Francisco on June 4, 1850. Upon his arrival at San Francisco, he (Captain Lindsey) invested in a water lot at the foot of Greenwich street, where he moored his ship. He disposed of his cargo at once, and invested his receipts in property in the vicinity of Greenwich and Sansome Streets. He resided on board the ship at the foot of Greenwich street with his family up to the time of his death.

“Captain Lindsey is buried on Goat Island, with his son, Edward L. Lindsey. Although Goat island is not a public burying ground, Captain Lindsey expressed a wish one Sunday, when he was out sailing in his yacht Glide with his children, to be buried on the island upon which he had landed, because he had remarked what an elegant spot it was. He afterward made the same remark and wish to an old friend, Mr. Morris, who was living on the island at the time. He also made the same remark to an old captain with whom Captain Lindsey served his apprenticeship. Two months later his wish was carried out, and he was burled on Goat island from his ship Palmyra. His death was caused from heart failure, and the funeral was in a way rather unique, for, instead of coaches following a hearse, there was a line of ships' boats following a long boat which was bearing the body of the young captain, propelled by four oars, handled by intimate friends of the deceased.

“At the present time there are only two of Captain Lindsey's children living–Miss Catherine Lindsey, who no resides at the southwest corner of Van Ness avenue and Geary street, and William Lindsey, who resides at Belmont, San Mateo county, Cal.”