



Produced by Robert E. Brewer.  HTML version by Al Haines.









TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST

A Personal Narrative of Life at Sea


By

Richard Henry Dana, Jr.



With an introduction and notes by

Homer Eaton Keyes, B.L.

Assistant Professor of Art in Dartmouth College



  ----Crowded in the rank and narrow ship,--
  Housed on the wild sea with wild usages,--
  Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals
  Of fair and exquisite, O! nothing, nothing,
  Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.
                 Coleridge's Wallenstein.




CONTENTS

  Introduction
    Biographical Note
    California and her Missions
    Bibliographical References
    Diagram of Ships
    Explanation of Diagram

  Two Years Before the Mast
  Twenty-Four Years After




INTRODUCTION


Biographical Note

Two years before the mast were but an episode in the life of Richard
Henry Dana, Jr.; yet the narrative in which he details the experiences
of that period is, perhaps, his chief claim to a wide remembrance.  His
services in other than literary fields occupied the greater part of his
life, but they brought him comparatively small recognition and many
disappointments.  His happiest associations were literary, his
pleasantest acquaintanceships those which arose through his fame as the
author of one book. The story of his life is one of honest and
competent effort, of sincere purpose, of many thwarted hopes.  The
traditions of his family forced him into a profession for which he was
intellectually but not temperamentally fitted: he should have been a
scholar, teacher, and author; instead he became a lawyer.

Born in Cambridge, Mass., August 1, 1815, Richard Henry Dana, Jr., came
of a line of Colonial ancestors whose legal understanding and patriotic
zeal had won them distinction.  His father, if possessed of less vigor
than his predecessors, was yet a man of culture and ability.  He was
widely known as poet, critic, and lecturer; and endowed his son with
native qualities of intelligence, good breeding, and honesty.

After somewhat varied and troublous school days, young Dana entered
Harvard University, where he took high rank in his classes and bid fair
to make a reputation as a scholar.  But at the beginning of his third
year of college a severe attack of measles interrupted his course, and
so affected his eyes as to preclude, for a time at least, all idea of
study.  The state of the family finances was not such as to permit of
foreign travel in search of health.  Accordingly, prompted by necessity
and by a youthful love of adventure, he shipped as a common sailor in
the brig, Pilgrim, bound for the California coast.  His term of service
lasted a trifle over two years--from August, 1834, to September, 1836.
The undertaking was one calculated to kill or cure. Fortunately it had
the latter effect; and, upon returning to his native place, physically
vigorous but intellectually starved, he reentered Harvard and worked
with such enthusiasm as to graduate in six months with honor.

Then came the question of his life work.  Though intensely religious,
he did not feel called to the ministry; business made no appeal; his
ancestors had been lawyers; it seemed best that he should follow where
they had led.  Had conditions been those of to-day, he would naturally
have drifted into some field of scholarly research,--political science
or history.  As it was, he entered law school, which, in 1840, he left
to take up the practice of his profession. But Dana had not the tact,
the personal magnetism, or the business sagacity to make a brilliant
success before the bar.  Despite the fact that he had become a master
of legal theory, an authority upon international questions, and a
counsellor of unimpeachable integrity, his progress was painfully slow
and toilsome.  Involved with his lack of tact and magnetism there was,
too, an admirable quality of sturdy obstinacy that often worked him
injury.  Though far from sharing the radical ideas of the
Abolitionists, he was ardent in his anti-slavery ideas and did not
hesitate to espouse the unpopular doctrines of the Free-Soil party of
1848, or to labor for the freedom of those Boston <DW64>s, who, under
the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850, were in danger of deportation to the
South.

His activity in the latter direction resulted in pecuniary loss, social
ostracism and worse; for upon one occasion he was set upon and nearly
killed by a pair of thugs.  But Dana was not a man to be swerved from
his purpose by considerations of policy or of personal safety.  He met
his problems as they came to him, took the course which he believed to
be right and then stuck to it with indomitable tenacity.  Yet,
curiously enough, with none of the characteristics of the politician,
he longed for political preferment.  At the hands of the people this
came to him in smallest measure only.  Though at one time a member of
the Massachusetts Legislature, he was defeated as candidate for the
lower house of Congress, and in 1876 suffered the bitterest
disappointment of his life, when the libellous attacks of enemies
prevented the ratification of his nomination as Minister to England.

Previous to this he had served his country as United States District
Attorney during the Civil War, a time when the office demanded the
highest type of ability and uprightness.  That the government
appreciated this was shown in 1867 by its choice of Dana as one of its
counsel in the prosecution of Jefferson Davis for treason.  The
position of legal representative before the Halifax tribunal of 1877,
which met to discuss fishery questions at issue between the United
States and Canada, was given him no doubt in part because of his
eminent fitness, in part as balm for the wound of the preceding year.

But whatever satisfaction he may have found in such honors as time and
ripening years brought to him, his chief joy and relaxation lay in
travel. When worry and overwork began to tell upon him, he would betake
himself to shore or mountains.  Upon several occasions he visited
Europe, and in 1859 made a tour of the world.  At length, in 1876, he
gave up active life and took residence abroad, with the idea of finding
leisure for the preparation of a treatise on international law.  He was
still engaged in collecting his material when, on January 6, 1882,
death overtook him.  He was buried in Rome in the Protestant Cemetery,
whose cypresses cast their long shadows over the graves of many
distinguished foreigners who have sought a last refuge of health and
peace under the skies of Italy.

Such a career as his would seem far enough from being a failure. Yet,
in retirement, Dana looked back upon it not without regret. As a
lawyer, he had felt a justifiable desire to see his labors crowned by
his elevation to the bench; as an active participant in public affairs,
he had felt that his services and talents rendered him deserving of a
seat in Congress.  Lacking these things, he might have hoped that the
practice of his profession would yield him a fortune.  Here again he
was disappointed.  In seeking the fulfillment of his ambitions, he was
always on the high road to success; he never quite arrived.

It is remarkable that, having written one successful book, Dana did not
seek further reward as a man of letters.  Two Years before the Mast
appeared in 1840, while its author was still a law student.  Though at
the time it created no great stir in the United States, it was most
favorably received in England, where it paved the way for many pleasant
and valuable acquaintanceships.  The following year, Dana produced a
small volume on seamanship, entitled The Seaman's Friend.  This, and a
short account of a trip to Cuba in 1859, constitute the sole additions
to his early venture.  He was a copious letter-writer and kept full
journals of his various travels; but he never elaborated them for
publication.  Yet, long before his death, he had seen the narrative of
his sailor days recognized as an American classic. Time has not
diminished its reputation.  We read it to-day not merely for its
simple, unpretentious style; but for its clear picture of sea life
previous to the era of steam navigation, and for its graphic
description of conditions in California before visions of gold sent the
long lines of "prairie schooners" drifting across the plains to unfold
the hidden destiny of the West.


California and her Missions

It is not easy to realize that, during the stirring days when the
eastern coast-line of North America was experiencing the ferment of
revolution, the Pacific seaboard was almost totally unexplored, its
population largely a savage one.  But Spain, long established in
Mexico, was slowly pushing northward along the California coast. Her
emissaries were the Franciscan friars; her method the founding of
Indian missions round which, in due course, should arise towns intended
to afford harbor for Spanish ships and to serve as outposts against the
steady encroachments of Russia, who, from Alaska, was reaching out
toward San Francisco Bay.

Thus began the white settlement of California.  San Diego Mission was
founded in 1769; San Carlos, at Monterey, in 1770; San Francisco, in
1776; Santa Barbara, in 1786.  For the general guardianship of these
missions a garrison, or presidio, was in each case provided. It was
responsible not only for the protection of the town thus created, but
for all the missions in the district.  The presidio of San Diego, for
example, was in charge of the missions of San Diego, San Gabriel, San
Juan Capistrano, and San Luis Rey.  So, likewise, there were garrisons
with extensive jurisdiction at Santa Barbara, Monterey, and San
Francisco.

The Indians in the immediate vicinity of a mission were attached
thereto by a sort of gentle enslavement.  They were provided special
quarters, were carefully looked after by the priests, their religious
education fostered, and their innate laziness conquered by specific
requirements of labor in agriculture, cattle raising, and simple
handicrafts.  It was an arrangement which worked well for both parties
concerned.  The slavery of the Indians was not unlike the obligation of
children to their parents; they were comfortable, well behaved, and for
the most part contented with the rule of the friars, who, on their
side, began to accumulate considerable wealth from the well-directed
efforts of their charges.

The supposition was that in the course of years the Indians might
become so habituated to thrift and industry as to be released from
supervision and safely left to their own devices.  But that happy
consummation had not occurred when, in 1826, Mexico succeeded in
separating herself from the mother country and began her career as an
independent republic, of which California was a part.  Nevertheless,
the greed of politicians suddenly wrought the change which was to have
come as the slow development of years.  By governmental decree, the
Indians were declared free of obligation to the friars; the latter were
stripped of their temporal powers, their funds seized under the guise
of a loan, and their establishments often subjected to what was little
short of pillage.  This state of affairs had scarcely begun at the time
of the author's visit to California; still, as he points out in Chapter
XXI, the decline of the missions had already set in.

The final blow to their power and usefulness came, however, with the
upheaval accompanying the Mexican war and the acquisition of California
by the United States.  Although this country returned all mission
buildings to the control of the Church, their reason for being had
vanished; they were sold, or destroyed, or feebly maintained on funds
insufficient to forestall dilapidation. Fortunately the Franciscan
friars had built for beauty as well as for use; the architecture which
they devised in skillful adaptation of their native Spanish type
displayed originality and picturesque charm. Hence, of late years,
Californians have come to feel a worthy pride in the monuments of the
early history of their state, and have taken steps to preserve such of
them as survive.  No less than twenty-one are today the goal of the
traveller.

The reader who is interested in pursuing the subject thus outlined will
find its satisfactory treatment in George Wharton James's _In and out
of the old Missions of California,_ a book that combines agreeable
reading with excellent illustrations.


References

The author's life is fully and sympathetically treated in Charles
Francis Adams's Richard Henry Dana. Boston, 1890.

The most exhaustive history of California and the Pacific coast in
general is H. H. Bancroft's History of the Pacific States of North
America. San Francisco, 1882-1888.  A briefer work is Josiah Royce's
California. Boston, 1886.  Though this book considers mainly the
transition period, 1846-1856, its introduction gives an excellent
survey of earlier years.  F. J. Turner's Rise of the New West, which is
volume XIV of the American Nation, New York, 1907, tells the story of
the development of the whole territory west of the Mississippi.

Those who are curious to search out all the items of ship construction
will find them adequately illustrated, under the caption, "ship," in
both Standard and Century dictionaries.


Explanation of Diagram

The following diagram, from which many details have been omitted,
presents sufficient data for an understanding of the more important
nautical terms which occur in the text.  A number of other such terms
have been explained in the notes.  In omitting reference to many more,
the editor has felt that ovarannotation would turn a straightforward
and interesting narrative into a mere excuse for a nautical dictionary,
and quite defeat the purpose of the book.  The author's technical
vocabulary, even when most bewildering, serves to give force and the
vividness of local color to his descriptions.  To pause in the midst of
a storm at sea for comment and definition would result merely in
checking the movement of the story and putting a damper upon the
imagination.

Two Years before the Mast affords the teacher a somewhat unusual
opportunity.  Few literary works are better calculated to stimulate
inquiry into the remarkable changes which three-quarters of a century
have wrought in the United States.  Much profitable class employment in
the drawing of maps and the writing of brief themes dealing with
various phases of the romantic history of California will suggest
itself.  The numerous geographical allusions should be traced with the
aid of an atlas.

            |        --+--
          --+--      | |j|
           /| |      --+--
          / |f|      | |i|
         /  +--     ---+---
        /  /|e|     |  |  |
       /  / +---    |  | h|
      /  /  |  |   ----+----
     /a /   |d |   |   |   |
    /__/ b  +----  |   | g |
   /  /_____|c  |   \__|____\
  /__/      |___|      |
     \------+----------+-------
      \_______________________/

  a. Flying jib.
  b. Jib.
  c. Foresail.
  d. Foretopsail.
  e. Foretopgallantsail.
  f. Foreroyal.
  g. Mainsail.
  h. Maintopsail.
  i. Maintopgallantsail.
  j. Mainroyal.



                         |
                         |B2
                |        |        |C2
                |A2   6--+--      |
             3--+--      |     9--+--
                |       ||        |
               ||       |        ||
               |     5--+--      |
           2---+---     |B1      |C1
  E --__       |A1     ||    8---+---
        --__  ||       |         |
            --|   4----+----    ||
         1----+----    |   7----+----          G __--
              |        |        |            __-- /
              |A       |B       |C     F __-- \  /
   D          |        |        |    __--     H\/
  ------______|________|________|________---------
        \_______________________________/

   A. Mizzenmast.
  A1. Mizzentopmast.
  A2. Mizzentopgallant and royalmast.
   B. Mainmast.
  B1. Maintopmast.
  B2. Maintopgallant and royalmast.
   C. Foremast.
  C1. Foretopmast.
  C2. Foretopgallant and royalmast.
   D. Spanker boom.
   E. Spanker gaff.
   F. Bowsprit.
   G. Jib boom and flying jib boom.
   H. Martingale boom.

  1. Crossjack yard.
  2. Mizzentopsail yard.
  3. Mizzentopgallant yard.
  4. Main yard.
  5. Maintopsail yard.
  6. Maintopgallant yard.
  7. Fore yard.
  8. Foretopsail yard.
  9. Foretopgallant yard.

[Editor: Many more numbered lifts, stays, and braces were left out of
these simplified diagrams.  They are intended to be viewed using a
fixed-width font.]

Each mast section is joined to the lower one in two places:

              | |
              | |
           ___|_|_
           \_____/  Mast cap.
            | | |
            | | |
            | | |
           _|_|_|_
           \_____/  Trestletree.
            | |
            | |


Each mast also sports net-like rigging from the lowest trestletree to
the deck. These are called "shrouds".





TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST


CONTENTS

       I  DEPARTURE
      II  FIRST IMPRESSIONS--"SAIL HO!"
     III  SHIP'S DUTIES--TROPICS
      IV  A ROGUE--TROUBLE ON BOARD--"LAND HO!"--POMPERO--CAPE HORN
       V  CAPE HORN--A VISIT
      VI  LOSS OF A MAN--SUPERSTITION
     VII  JUAN FERNANDEZ--THE PACIFIC
    VIII  "TARRING DOWN"--DAILY LIFE--"GOING AFT"--CALIFORNIA
      IX  CALIFORNIA--A SOUTH-EASTER
       X  A SOUTH-EASTER--PASSAGE UP THE COAST
      XI  PASSAGE UP THE COAST--MONTEREY
     XII  LIFE AT MONTEREY
    XIII  TRADING--A BRITISH SAILOR
     XIV  SANTA BARBARA--HIDE-DROGHING--HARBOR DUTIES--DISCONTENT--SAN
          PEDRO
      XV  A FLOGGING--A NIGHT ON SHORE--THE STATE OF THINGS ON
          BOARD--SAN DIEGO
     XVI  LIBERTY-DAY ON SHORE
    XVII  SAN DIEGO--A DESERTION--SAN PEDRO AGAIN--BEATING THE COAST
   XVIII  EASTER SUNDAY--"SAIL HO!"--WHALES--SAN JUAN--ROMANCE OF
          HIDE-DROGHING--SAN DIEGO AGAIN
     XIX  THE SANDWICH ISLANDERS--HIDE-CURING--WOOD-CUTTING--RATTLE-
          SNAKES--NEW-COMERS
      XX  LEISURE--NEWS FROM HOME--"BURNING THE WATER"
     XXI  CALIFORNIA AND ITS INHABITANTS
    XXII  LIFE ON SHORE--THE ALERT
   XXIII  NEW SHIP AND SHIPMATES--MY WATCHMATE
    XXIV  SAN DIEGO AGAIN--A DESCENT--HURRIED DEPARTURE--A NEW SHIPMATE
     XXV  RUMORS OF WAR--A SPOUTER--SLIPPING FOR A SOUTH-EASTER--A GALE
    XXVI  SAN FRANCISCO--MONTEREY
   XXVII  THE SUNDAY WASH-UP--ON SHORE--A SET-TO--A GRANDEE--"SAIL
          HO!"--A FANDANGO
  XXVIII  AN OLD FRIEND--A VICTIM--CALIFORNIA RANGERS--NEWS FROM
    XXIX  LOADING FOR HOME--A SURPRISE--LAST OF AN OLD FRIEND--THE LAST
          HIDE--A HARD CASE--UP ANCHOR, FOR HOME!--HOMEWARD BOUND
     XXX  BEGINNING THE LONG RETURN VOYAGE--A SCARE
    XXXI  BAD PROSPECTS--FIRST TOUCH OF CAPE HORN--ICEBERGS--TEMPERANCE
          SHIPS--LYING-UP--ICE--DIFFICULTY ON BOARD--CHANGE OF
          COURSE--STRAITS OF MAGELLAN
   XXXII  ICE AGAIN--A BEAUTIFUL AFTERNOON--CAPE HORN--"LAND
          HO!"--HEADING FOR HOME
  XXXIII  CRACKING ON--PROGRESS HOMEWARD--A PLEASANT SUNDAY--A FINE
          SIGHT--BY-PLAY
   XXXIV  NARROW ESCAPES--THE EQUATOR--TROPICAL SQUALLS--A THUNDER STORM
    XXXV  A DOUBLE-REEF-TOP-SAIL BREEZE--SCURVY--A FRIEND IN
          NEED--PREPARING FOR PORT--THE GULF STREAM
   XXXVI  SOUNDINGS--SIGHTS FROM HOME--BOSTON HARBOR--LEAVING THE SHIP
          CONCLUDING CHAPTER




PREFACE

I am unwilling to present this narrative to the public without a few
words in explanation of my reasons for publishing it.  Since Mr.
Cooper's Pilot and Red Rover, there have been so many stories of
sea-life written, that I should really think it unjustifiable in me to
add one to the number without being able to give reasons in some
measure warranting me in so doing.

With the single exception, as I am quite confident, of Mr. Ames's
entertaining, but hasty and desultory work, called "Mariner's
Sketches," all the books professing to give life at sea have been
written by persons who have gained their experience as naval officers,
or passengers, and of these, there are very few which are intended to
be taken as narratives of facts.

Now, in the first place, the whole course of life, and daily duties,
the discipline, habits and customs of a man-of-war are very different
from those of the merchant service; and in the next place, however
entertaining and well written these books may be, and however
accurately they may give sea-life as it appears to their authors, it
must still be plain to every one that a naval officer, who goes to sea
as a gentleman, "with his gloves on," (as the phrase is,) and who
associated only with his fellow-officers, and hardly speaks to a sailor
except through a boatswain's mate, must take a very different view of
the whole matter from that which would be taken by a common sailor.

Besides the interest which every one must feel in exhibitions of life
in those forms in which he himself has never experienced it; there has
been, of late years, a great deal of attention directed toward common
seamen, and a strong sympathy awakened in their behalf. Yet I believe
that, with the single exception which I have mentioned, there has not
been a book written, professing to give their life and experiences, by
one who has been of them, and can know what their life really is.  A
voice from the forecastle has hardly yet been heard.

In the following pages I design to give an accurate and authentic
narrative of a little more than two years spent as a common sailor,
before the mast, in the American merchant service.  It is written out
from a journal which I kept at the time, and from notes which I made of
most of the events as they happened; and in it I have adhered closely
to fact in every particular, and endeavored to give each thing its true
character.  In so doing, I have been obliged occasionally to use strong
and coarse expressions, and in some instances to give scenes which may
be painful to nice feelings; but I have very carefully avoided doing
so, whenever I have not felt them essential to giving the true
character of a scene. My design is, and it is this which has induced me
to publish the book, to present the life of a common sailor at sea as
it really is,--the light and the dark together.

There may be in some parts a good deal that is unintelligible to the
general reader; but I have found from my own experience, and from what
I have heard from others, that plain matters of fact in relation to
customs and habits of life new to us, and descriptions of life under
new aspects, act upon the inexperienced through the imagination, so
that we are hardly aware of our want of technical knowledge.  Thousands
read the escape of the American frigate through the British channel,
and the chase and wreck of the Bristol trader in the Red Rover, and
follow the minute nautical manoeuvres with breathless interest, who do
not know the name of a rope in the ship; and perhaps with none the less
admiration and enthusiasm for their want of acquaintance with the
professional detail.

In preparing this narrative I have carefully avoided incorporating into
it any impressions but those made upon me by the events as they
occurred, leaving to my concluding chapter, to which I shall
respectfully call the reader's attention, those views which have been
suggested to me by subsequent reflection.

These reasons, and the advice of a few friends, have led me to give
this narrative to the press.  If it shall interest the general reader,
and call more attention to the welfare of seamen, or give any
information as to their real condition, which may serve to raise them
in the rank of beings, and to promote in any measure their religious
and moral improvement, and diminish the hardships of their daily life,
the end of its publication will be answered.

                                R.H.D., Jr.
                                Boston, July, 1840.




CHAPTER I

DEPARTURE

The fourteenth of August was the day fixed upon for the sailing of the
brig Pilgrim on her voyage from Boston round Cape Horn to the western
coast of North America.  As she was to get under weigh early in the
afternoon, I made my appearance on board at twelve o'clock, in full
sea-rig, and with my chest, containing an outfit for a two or three
year voyage, which I had undertaken from a determination to cure, if
possible, by an entire change of life, and by a long absence from books
and study, a weakness of the eyes, which had obliged me to give up my
pursuits, and which no medical aid seemed likely to cure.

The change from the tight dress coat, silk cap, and kid gloves of an
undergraduate at Cambridge, to the loose duck trowsers, checked shirt
and tarpaulin hat of a sailor, though somewhat of a transformation, was
soon made, and I supposed that I should pass very well for a jack tar.
But it is impossible to deceive the practised eye in these matters; and
while I supposed myself to be looking as salt as Neptune himself, I
was, no doubt, known for a landsman by every one on board as soon as I
hove in sight.  A sailor has a peculiar cut to his clothes, and a way
of wearing them which a green hand can never get.  The trowsers, tight
round the hips, and thence hanging long and loose round the feet, a
superabundance of checked shirt, a low-crowned, well varnished black
hat, worn on the back of the head, with half a fathom of black ribbon
hanging over the left eye, and a peculiar tie to the black silk
neckerchief, with sundry other minutiae, are signs, the want of which
betray the beginner at once.  Beside the points in my dress which were
out of the way, doubtless my complexion and hands were enough to
distinguish me from the regular salt, who, with a sun-burnt cheek, wide
step, and rolling gait, swings his bronzed and toughened hands
athwart-ships, half open, as though just ready to grasp a rope.

"With all my imperfections on my head," I joined the crew, and we
hauled out into the stream, and came to anchor for the night. The next
day we were employed in preparations for sea, reeving studding-sail
gear, crossing royal yards, putting on chafing gear, and taking on
board our powder.  On the following night, I stood my first watch.  I
remained awake nearly all the first part of the night from fear that I
might not hear when I was called; and when I went on deck, so great
were my ideas of the importance of my trust, that I walked regularly
fore and aft the whole length of the vessel, looking out over the bows
and taffrail at each turn, and was not a little surprised at the
coolness of the old salt whom I called to take my place, in stowing
himself snugly away under the long boat, for a nap.  That was
sufficient lookout, he thought, for a fine night, at anchor in a safe
harbor.

The next morning was Saturday, and a breeze having sprung up from the
southward, we took a pilot on board, hove up our anchor, and began
beating down the bay.  I took leave of those of my friends who came to
see me off, and had barely opportunity to take a last look at the city,
and well-known objects, as no time is allowed on board ship for
sentiment.  As we drew down into the lower harbor, we found the wind
ahead in the bay, and were obliged to come to anchor in the roads.  We
remained there through the day and a part of the night.  My watch began
at eleven o'clock at night, and I received orders to call the captain
if the wind came out from the westward.  About midnight the wind became
fair, and having called the captain, I was ordered to call all hands.
How I accomplished this I do not know, but I am quite sure I did not
give the true hoarse, boatswain call of "A-a-ll ha-a-a-nds! up anchor,
a-ho-oy!" In a short time every one was in motion, the sails loosed,
the yards braced, and we began to heave up the anchor, which was our
last hold upon Yankee land.  I could take but little part in all these
preparations. My little knowledge of a vessel was all at fault.
Unintelligible orders were so rapidly given and so immediately
executed; there was such a hurrying about, and such an intermingling of
strange cries and stranger actions, that I was completely bewildered.
There is not so helpless and pitiable an object in the world as a
landsman beginning a sailor's life.  At length those peculiar,
long-drawn sounds, which denote that the crew are heaving the windlass,
began, and in a few moments we were under weigh.  The noise of the
water thrown from the bows began to be heard, the vessel leaned over
from the damp night breeze, and rolled with the heavy ground swell, and
we had actually begun our long, long journey.  This was literally
bidding "good night" to my native land.




CHAPTER II

FIRST IMPRESSIONS--"SAIL HO!"

The first day we passed at sea was the Sabbath.  As we were just from
port, and there was a great deal to be done on board, we were kept at
work all day, and at night the watches were set, and everything put
into sea order.  When we were called aft to be divided into watches, I
had a good specimen of the manner of a sea captain.  After the division
had been made, he gave a short characteristic speech, walking the
quarter deck with a cigar in his mouth, and dropping the words out
between the puffs.

"Now, my men, we have begun a long voyage.  If we get along well
together, we shall have a comfortable time; if we don't, we shall have
hell afloat.--All you've got to do is to obey your orders and do your
duty like men,--then you'll fare well enough;--if you don't, you'll
fare hard enough,--I can tell you.  If we pull together, you'll find me
a clever fellow; if we don't, you'll find me a bloody rascal.--That's
all I've got to say.--Go below, the larboard watch!"

I being in the starboard or second mate's watch, had the opportunity of
keeping the first watch at sea.  S----, a young man, making, like
myself, his first voyage, was in the same watch, and as he was the son
of a professional man, and had been in a counting-room in Boston, we
found that we had many friends and topics in common.  We talked these
matters over,--Boston, what our friends were probably doing, our
voyage, etc., until he went to take his turn at the look-out, and left
me to myself.  I had now a fine time for reflection.  I felt for the
first time the perfect silence of the sea.  The officer was walking the
quarter deck, where I had no right to go, one or two men were talking
on the forecastle, whom I had little inclination to join, so that I was
left open to the full impression of everything about me. However much I
was affected by the beauty of the sea, the bright stars, and the clouds
driven swiftly over them, I could not but remember that I was
separating myself from all the social and intellectual enjoyments of
life.  Yet, strange as it may seem, I did then and afterwards take
pleasure in these reflections, hoping by them to prevent my becoming
insensible to the value of what I was leaving.

But all my dreams were soon put to flight by an order from the officer
to trim the yards, as the wind was getting ahead; and I could plainly
see by the looks the sailors occasionally cast to windward, and by the
dark clouds that were fast coming up, that we had bad weather to
prepare for, and had heard the captain say that he expected to be in
the Gulf Stream by twelve o'clock.  In a few minutes eight bells were
struck, the watch called, and we went below. I now began to feel the
first discomforts of a sailor's life. The steerage in which I lived was
filled with coils of rigging, spare sails, old junk and ship stores,
which had not been stowed away.  Moreover, there had been no berths
built for us to sleep in, and we were not allowed to drive nails to
hang our clothes upon. The sea, too, had risen, the vessel was rolling
heavily, and everything was pitched about in grand confusion.  There
was a complete "hurrah's nest," as the sailors say, "everything on top
and nothing at hand."  A large hawser had been coiled away upon my
chest; my hats, boots, mattress and blankets had all fetched away and
gone over to leeward, and were jammed and broken under the boxes and
coils of rigging.  To crown all, we were allowed no light to find
anything with, and I was just beginning to feel strong symptoms of
sea-sickness, and that listlessness and inactivity which accompany it.
Giving up all attempts to collect my things together, I lay down upon
the sails, expecting every moment to hear the cry of "all hands, ahoy,"
which the approaching storm would soon make necessary.  I shortly heard
the rain-drops falling on deck, thick and fast, and the watch evidently
had their hands full of work, for I could hear the loud and repeated
orders of the mate, the trampling of feet, the creaking of blocks, and
all the accompaniments of a coming storm.  In a few minutes the slide
of the hatch was thrown back, which let down the noise and tumult of
the deck still louder, the loud cry of "All hands, ahoy! tumble up here
and take in sail," saluted our ears, and the hatch was quickly shut
again.  When I got upon deck, a new scene and a new experience were
before me.  The little brig was close hauled upon the wind, and lying
over, as it then seemed to me, nearly upon her beam ends.  The heavy
head sea was beating against her bows with the noise and force almost
of a sledge-hammer, and flying over the deck, drenching us completely
through.  The topsail halyards had been let go, and the great sails
filling out and backing against the masts with a noise like thunder.
The wind was whistling through the rigging, loose ropes flying about;
loud and, to me, unintelligible orders constantly given and rapidly
executed, and the sailors "singing out" at the ropes in their hoarse
and peculiar strains.  In addition to all this, I had not got my "sea
legs on," was dreadfully sick, with hardly strength enough to hold on
to anything, and it was "pitch dark."  This was my state when I was
ordered aloft, for the first time, to reef topsails.

How I got along, I cannot now remember.  I "laid out" on the yards and
held on with all my strength.  I could not have been of much service,
for I remember having been sick several times before I left the topsail
yard.  Soon all was snug aloft, and we were again allowed to go below.
This I did not consider much of a favor, for the confusion of
everything below, and that inexpressible sickening smell, caused by the
shaking up of the bilge-water in the hold, made the steerage but an
indifferent refuge from the cold, wet decks.  I had often read of the
nautical experiences of others, but I felt as though there could be
none worse than mine; for in addition to every other evil, I could not
but remember that this was only the first night of a two years' voyage.
When we were on deck we were not much better off, for we were
continually ordered about by the officer, who said that it was good for
us to be in motion. Yet anything was better than the horrible state of
things below. I remember very well going to the hatchway and putting my
head down, when I was oppressed by nausea, and always being relieved
immediately. It was as good as an emetic.

This state of things continued for two days.

Wednesday, Aug. 20th.  We had the watch on deck from four till eight,
this morning.  When we came on deck at four o'clock, we found things
much changed for the better.  The sea and wind had gone down, and the
stars were out bright.  I experienced a corresponding change in my
feelings; yet continued extremely weak from my sickness.  I stood in
the waist on the weather side, watching the gradual breaking of the
day, and the first streaks of the early light.  Much has been said of
the sun-rise at sea; but it will not compare with the sun-rise on
shore. It wants the accompaniments of the songs of birds, the awakening
hum of men, and the glancing of the first beams upon trees, hills,
spires, and house-tops, to give it life and spirit.  But though the
actual rise of the sun at sea is not so beautiful, yet nothing will
compare with the early breaking of day upon the wide ocean.

There is something in the first grey streaks stretching along the
eastern horizon and throwing an indistinct light upon the face of the
deep, which combines with the boundlessness and unknown depth of the
sea around you, and gives one a feeling of loneliness, of dread, and of
melancholy foreboding, which nothing else in nature can give.  This
gradually passes away as the light grows brighter, and when the sun
comes up, the ordinary monotonous sea day begins.

From such reflections as these, I was aroused by the order from the
officer, "Forward there! rig the head-pump!"  I found that no time was
allowed for day-dreaming, but that we must "turn-to" at the first
light.  Having called up the "idlers," namely carpenter, cook, steward,
etc., and rigged the pump, we commenced washing down the decks. This
operation, which is performed every morning at sea, takes nearly two
hours; and I had hardly strength enough to get through it.  After we
had finished, swabbed down, and coiled up the rigging, I sat down on
the spars, waiting for seven bells, which was the sign for breakfast.
The officer, seeing my lazy posture, ordered me to slush the main-mast,
from the royal-mast-head, down.  The vessel was then rolling a little,
and I had taken no sustenance for three days, so that I felt tempted to
tell him that I had rather wait till after breakfast; but I knew that I
must "take the bull by the horns," and that if I showed any sign of
want of spirit or of backwardness, that I should be ruined at once. So
I took my bucket of grease and climbed up to the royal-mast-head. Here
the rocking of the vessel, which increases the higher you go from the
foot of the mast, which is the fulcrum of the lever, and the smell of
the grease, which offended my fastidious senses, upset my stomach
again, and I was not a little rejoiced when I got upon the comparative
terra firma of the deck.  In a few minutes seven bells were struck, the
log hove, the watch called, and we went to breakfast. Here I cannot but
remember the advice of the cook, a simple-hearted African.  "Now," says
he, "my lad, you are well cleaned out; you haven't got a drop of your
'long-shore swash aboard of you.  You must begin on a new tack,--pitch
all your sweetmeats overboard, and turn-to upon good hearty salt beef
and sea bread, and I'll promise you, you'll have your ribs well
sheathed, and be as hearty as any of 'em, afore you are up to the
Horn."  This would be good advice to give to passengers, when they
speak of the little niceties which they have laid in, in case of
sea-sickness.

I cannot describe the change which half a pound of cold salt beef and a
biscuit or two produced in me.  I was a new being.  We had a watch
below until noon, so that I had some time to myself; and getting a huge
piece of strong, cold, salt beef from the cook, I kept gnawing upon it
until twelve o'clock.  When we went on deck I felt somewhat like a man,
and could begin to learn my sea duty with considerable spirit.  At
about two o'clock we heard the loud cry of "sail ho!" from aloft, and
soon saw two sails to windward, going directly athwart our hawse.  This
was the first time that I had seen a sail at sea.  I thought then, and
always have since, that it exceeds every other sight in interest and
beauty.  They passed to leeward of us, and out of hailing distance; but
the captain could read the names on their sterns with the glass. They
were the ship Helen Mar, of New York, and the brig Mermaid, of Boston.
They were both steering westward, and were bound in for our "dear
native land."

Thursday, Aug. 21st.  This day the sun rose clear, we had a fine wind,
and everything was bright and cheerful.  I had now got my sea legs on,
and was beginning to enter upon the regular duties of a sea-life.
About six bells, that is, three o'clock, P.M., we saw a sail on our
larboard bow.  I was very anxious, like every new sailor, to speak her.
She came down to us, backed her main-top-sail, and the two vessels
stood "head on," bowing and curvetting at each other like a couple of
war-horses reined in by their riders.  It was the first vessel that I
had seen near, and I was surprised to find how much she rolled and
pitched in so quiet a sea.  She lunged her head into the sea, and then,
her stern settling gradually down, her huge bows rose up, showing the
bright copper, and her stern, and bresthooks dripping, like old
Neptune's locks, with the brine. Her decks were filled with passengers
who had come up at the cry of "sail ho," and who by their dress and
features appeared to be Swiss and French emigrants.  She hailed us at
first in French, but receiving no answer, she tried us in English.  She
was the ship La Carolina, from Havre, for New York.  We desired her to
report the brig Pilgrim, from Boston, for the north-west coast of
America, five days out.  She then filled away and left us to plough on
through our waste of waters.  This day ended pleasantly; we had got
into regular and comfortable weather, and into that routine of sea-life
which is only broken by a storm, a sail, or the sight of land.




CHAPTER III

SHIP'S DUTIES--TROPICS

As we had now a long "spell" of fine weather, without any incident to
break the monotony of our lives, there can be no better place to
describe the duties, regulations, and customs of an American
merchantman, of which ours was a fair specimen.

The captain, in the first place, is lord paramount.  He stands no
watch, comes and goes when he pleases, and is accountable to no one,
and must be obeyed in everything, without a question, even from his
chief officer. He has the power to turn his officers off duty, and even
to break them and make them do duty as sailors in the forecastle.  When
there are no passengers and no supercargo, as in our vessel, he has no
companion but his own dignity, and no pleasures, unless he differs from
most of his kind, but the consciousness of possessing supreme power,
and, occasionally, the exercise of it.

The prime minister, the official organ, and the active and
superintending officer, is the chief mate.  He is first lieutenant,
boatswain, sailing-master, and quarter-master.  The captain tells him
what he wishes to have done, and leaves to him the care of overseeing,
of allotting the work, and also the responsibility of its being well
done.  The mate (as he is always called, par excellence) also keeps the
log-book, for which he is responsible to the owners and insurers, and
has the charge of the stowage, safe keeping, and delivery of the cargo.
He is also, ex-officio, the wit of the crew; for the captain does not
condescend to joke with the men, and the second mate no one cares for;
so that when "the mate" thinks fit to entertain "the people" with a
coarse joke or a little practical wit, every one feels bound to laugh.

The second mate's is proverbially a dog's berth.  He is neither officer
nor man.  The men do not respect him as an officer, and he is obliged
to go aloft to reef and furl the topsails, and to put his hands into
the tar and slush, with the rest.  The crew call him the "sailor's
waiter," as he has to furnish them with spun-yarn, marline, and all
other stuffs that they need in their work, and has charge of the
boatswain's locker, which includes serving-boards, marline-spikes, etc.
He is expected by the captain to maintain his dignity and to enforce
obedience, and still is kept at a great distance from the mate, and
obliged to work with the crew.  He is one to whom little is given and
of whom much is required.  His wages are usually double those of a
common sailor, and he eats and sleeps in the cabin; but he is obliged
to be on deck nearly all the time, and eats at the second table, that
is, makes a meal out of what the captain and chief mate leave.

The steward is the captain's servant, and has charge of the pantry,
from which every one, even the mate himself, is excluded.  These
distinctions usually find him an enemy in the mate, who does not like
to have any one on board who is not entirely under his control; the
crew do not consider him as one of their number, so he is left to the
mercy of the captain.

The cook is the patron of the crew, and those who are in his favor can
get their wet mittens and stockings dried, or light their pipes at the
galley on the night watch.  These two worthies, together with the
carpenter and sailmaker, if there be one, stand no watch, but, being
employed all day, are allowed to "sleep in" at night, unless all hands
are called.

The crew are divided into two divisions, as equally as may be, called
the watches.  Of these the chief mate commands the larboard, and the
second mate the starboard.  They divide the time between them, being on
and off duty, or, as it is called, on deck and below, every other four
hours.  If, for instance, the chief mate with the larboard watch have
the first night-watch from eight to twelve; at the end of the four
hours, the starboard watch is called, and the second mate takes the
deck, while the larboard watch and the first mate go below until four
in the morning, when they come on deck again and remain until eight;
having what is called the morning watch.  As they will have been on
deck eight hours out of the twelve, while those who had the middle
watch--from twelve to four, will only have been up four hours, they
have what is called a "forenoon watch below," that is, from eight,
A.M., till twelve, M.  In a man-of-war, and in some merchantmen, this
alteration of watches is kept up throughout the twenty-four hours; but
our ship, like most merchantmen, had "all hands" from twelve o'clock
till dark, except in bad weather, when we had "watch and watch."

An explanation of the "dog watches" may, perhaps, be of use to one who
has never been at sea.  They are to shift the watches each night, so
that the same watch need not be on deck at the same hours. In order to
effect this, the watch from four to eight, P.M., is divided into two
half, or dog watches, one from four to six, and the other from six to
eight.  By this means they divide the twenty-four hours into seven
watches instead of six, and thus shift the hours every night.  As the
dog watches come during twilight, after the day's work is done, and
before the night watch is set, they are the watches in which everybody
is on deck.  The captain is up, walking on the weather side of the
quarter-deck, the chief mate is on the lee side, and the second mate
about the weather gangway. The steward has finished his work in the
cabin, and has come up to smoke his pipe with the cook in the galley.
The crew are sitting on the windlass or lying on the forecastle,
smoking, singing, or telling long yarns.  At eight o'clock, eight bells
are struck, the log is hove, the watch set, the wheel relieved, the
galley shut up, and the other watch goes below.

The morning commences with the watch on deck's "turning-to" at
day-break and washing down, scrubbing, and swabbing the decks. This,
together with filling the "scuttled butt" with fresh water, and coiling
up the rigging, usually occupies the time until seven bells, (half
after seven,) when all hands get breakfast.  At eight, the day's work
begins, and lasts until sun-down, with the exception of an hour for
dinner.

Before I end my explanations, it may be well to define a day's work,
and to correct a mistake prevalent among landsmen about a sailor's
life.  Nothing is more common than to hear people say--"Are not sailors
very idle at sea?--what can they find to do?"  This is a very natural
mistake, and being very frequently made, it is one which every sailor
feels interested in having corrected.  In the first place, then, the
discipline of the ship requires every man to be at work upon something
when he is on deck, except at night and on Sundays.  Except at these
times, you will never see a man, on board a well-ordered vessel,
standing idle on deck, sitting down, or leaning over the side. It is
the officers' duty to keep every one at work, even if there is nothing
to be done but to scrape the rust from the chain cables. In no state
prison are the convicts more regularly set to work, and more closely
watched.  No conversation is allowed among the crew at their duty, and
though they frequently do talk when aloft, or when near one another,
yet they always stop when an officer is nigh.

With regard to the work upon which the men are put, it is a matter
which probably would not be understood by one who has not been at sea.
When I first left port, and found that we were kept regularly employed
for a week or two, I supposed that we were getting the vessel into sea
trim, and that it would soon be over, and we should have nothing to do
but sail the ship; but I found that it continued so for two years, and
at the end of the two years there was as much to be done as ever.  As
has often been said, a ship is like a lady's watch, always out of
repair.  When first leaving port, studding-sail gear is to be rove, all
the running rigging to be examined, that which is unfit for use to be
got down, and new rigging rove in its place: then the standing rigging
is to be overhauled, replaced, and repaired, in a thousand different
ways; and wherever any of the numberless ropes or the yards are chafing
or wearing upon it, there "chafing gear," as it is called, must be put
on.  This chafing gear consists of worming, parcelling, roundings,
battens, and service of all kinds--both rope-yarns, spun-yarn, marline
and seizing-stuffs. Taking off, putting on, and mending the chafing
gear alone, upon a vessel, would find constant employment for two or
three men, during working hours, for a whole voyage.

The next point to be considered is, that all the "small stuffs" which
are used on board a ship--such as spun-yarn, marline, seizing-stuff,
etc.--are made on board.  The owners of a vessel buy up incredible
quantities of "old junk," which the sailors unlay, after drawing out
the yarns, knot them together, and roll them up in balls.  These
"rope-yarns" are constantly used for various purposes, but the greater
part is manufactured into spun-yarn.  For this purpose every vessel is
furnished with a "spun-yarn winch;" which is very simple, consisting of
a wheel and spindle.  This may be heard constantly going on deck in
pleasant weather; and we had employment, during a great part of the
time, for three hands in drawing and knotting yarns, and making them
spun-yarn.

Another method of employing the crew is, "setting up" rigging. Whenever
any of the standing rigging becomes slack, (which is continually
happening), the seizings and coverings must be taken off, tackles got
up, and after the rigging is bowsed well taut, the seizings and
coverings replaced; which is a very nice piece of work. There is also
such a connection between different parts of a vessel, that one rope
can seldom be touched without altering another. You cannot stay a mast
aft by the back stays, without slacking up the head stays, etc.  If we
add to this all the tarring, greasing, oiling, varnishing, painting,
scraping, and scrubbing which is required in the course of a long
voyage, and also remember this is all to be done in addition to
watching at night, steering, reefing, furling, bracing, making and
setting sail, and pulling, hauling, and climbing in every direction,
one will hardly ask, "What can a sailor find to do at sea?"

If, after all this labor--after exposing their lives and limbs in
storms, wet and cold,

   "Wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch;
    The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
    Keep their fur dry;--"

the merchants and captain think that they have not earned their twelve
dollars a month, (out of which they clothe themselves,) and their salt
beef and hard bread, they keep them picking oakum--ad infinitum.  This
is the usual resource upon a rainy day, for then it will not do to work
upon rigging; and when it is pouring down in floods, instead of letting
the sailors stand about in sheltered places, and talk, and keep
themselves comfortable, they are separated to different parts of the
ship and kept at work picking oakum.  I have seen oakum stuff placed
about in different parts of the ship, so that the sailors might not be
idle in the snatches between the frequent squalls upon crossing the
equator.  Some officers have been so driven to find work for the crew
in a ship ready for sea, that they have set them to pounding the
anchors (often done) and scraping the chain cables. The "Philadelphia
Catechism" is,

  "Six days shalt thou labor and do all thou art able,
  And on the seventh--holystone the decks and scrape the cable."

This kind of work, of course, is not kept up off Cape Horn, Cape of
Good Hope, and in extreme north and south latitudes; but I have seen
the decks washed down and scrubbed, when the water would have frozen if
it had been fresh; and all hands kept at work upon the rigging, when we
had on our pea-jackets, and our hands so numb that we could hardly hold
our marline-spikes.

I have here gone out of my narrative course in order that any who read
this may form as correct an idea of a sailor's life and duty as
possible.  I have done it in this place because, for some time, our
life was nothing but the unvarying repetition of these duties, which
can be better described together.  Before leaving this description,
however, I would state, in order to show landsmen how little they know
of the nature of a ship, that a ship-carpenter is kept in constant
employ during good weather on board vessels which are in, what is
called, perfect sea order.




CHAPTER IV

A ROGUE--TROUBLE ON BOARD--"LAND HO!"--POMPERO--CAPE HORN

After speaking the Carolina, on the 21st August, nothing occurred to
break the monotony of our life until

Friday, September 5th, when we saw a sail on our weather (starboard)
beam.  She proved to be a brig under English colors, and passing under
our stern, reported herself as forty-nine days from Buenos Ayres, bound
to Liverpool.  Before she had passed us, "sail ho!" was cried again,
and we made another sail, far on our weather bow, and steering athwart
our hawse.  She passed out of hail, but we made her out to be an
hermaphrodite brig, with Brazilian colors in her main rigging.  By her
course, she must have been bound from Brazil to the south of Europe,
probably Portugal.

Sunday, Sept. 7th.  Fell in with the north-east trade winds. This
morning we caught our first dolphin, which I was very eager to see. I
was disappointed in the colors of this fish when dying.  They were
certainly very beautiful, but not equal to what has been said of them.
They are too indistinct.  To do the fish justice, there is nothing more
beautiful than the dolphin when swimming a few feet below the surface,
on a bright day.  It is the most elegantly formed, and also the
quickest fish, in salt water; and the rays of the sun striking upon it,
in its rapid and changing motions, reflected from the water, make it
look like a stray beam from a rainbow.

This day was spent like all pleasant Sabbaths at sea.  The decks are
washed down, the rigging coiled up, and everything put in order; and
throughout the day, only one watch is kept on deck at a time. The men
are all dressed in their best white duck trowsers, and red or checked
shirts, and have nothing to do but to make the necessary changes in the
sails.  They employ themselves in reading, talking, smoking, and
mending their clothes.  If the weather is pleasant, they bring their
work and their books upon deck, and sit down upon the forecastle and
windlass.  This is the only day on which these privileges are allowed
them.  When Monday comes, they put on their tarry trowsers again, and
prepare for six days of labor.

To enhance the value of the Sabbath to the crew, they are allowed on
that day a pudding, or, as it is called, a "duff."  This is nothing
more than flour boiled with water, and eaten with molasses.  It is very
heavy, dark, and clammy, yet it is looked upon as a luxury, and really
forms an agreeable variety with salt beef and pork. Many a rascally
captain has made friends of his crew by allowing them duff twice a week
on the passage home.

On board some vessels this is made a day of instruction and of
religious exercises; but we had a crew of swearers, from the captain to
the smallest boy; and a day of rest, and of something like quiet,
social enjoyment, was all that we could expect.

We continued running large before the north-east trade winds for
several days, until Monday--

September 22d; when, upon coming on deck at seven bells in the morning,
we found the other watch aloft throwing water upon the sails; and
looking astern, we saw a small clipper-built brig with a black hull
heading directly after us.  We went to work immediately, and put all
the canvas upon the brig which we could get upon her, rigging out oars
for studding-sail yards; and continued wetting down the sails by
buckets of water whipped up to the mast-head, until about nine o'clock,
when there came on a drizzling rain. The vessel continued in pursuit,
changing her course as we changed ours, to keep before the wind.  The
captain, who watched her with his glass, said that she was armed, and
full of men, and showed no colors.  We continued running dead before
the wind, knowing that we sailed better so, and that clippers are
fastest on the wind. We had also another advantage.  The wind was
light, and we spread more canvas than she did, having royals and
sky-sails fore and aft, and ten studding-sails; while she, being an
hermaphrodite brig, had only a gaff topsail, aft.  Early in the morning
she was overhauling us a little, but after the rain came on and the
wind grew lighter, we began to leave her astern.  All hands remained on
deck throughout the day, and we got our arms in order; but we were too
few to have done anything with her, if she had proved to be what we
feared. Fortunately there was no moon, and the night which followed was
exceedingly dark, so that by putting out all the lights and altering
our course four points, we hoped to get out of her reach.  We had no
light in the binnacle, but steered by the stars, and kept perfect
silence through the night.  At daybreak there was no sign of anything
in the horizon, and we kept the vessel off to her course.

Wednesday, October 1st.  Crossed the equator in long. 24 deg. 24' W. I
now, for the first time, felt at liberty, according to the old usage, to
call myself a son of Neptune, and was very glad to be able to claim the
title without the disagreeable initiation which so many have to go
through.  After once crossing the line you can never be subjected to
the process, but are considered as a son of Neptune, with full powers
to play tricks upon others.  This ancient custom is now seldom allowed,
unless there are passengers on board, in which case there is always a
good deal of sport.

It had been obvious to all hands for some time that the second mate,
whose name was F----, was an idle, careless fellow, and not much of a
sailor, and that the captain was exceedingly dissatisfied with him. The
power of the captain in these cases was well known, and we all
anticipated a difficulty.  F---- (called Mr. by virtue of his office)
was but half a sailor, having always been short voyages and remained at
home a long time between them.  His father was a man of some property,
and intended to have given his son a liberal education; but he, being
idle and worthless, was sent off to sea, and succeeded no better there;
for, unlike many scamps, he had none of the qualities of a sailor--he
was "not of the stuff that they make sailor of."  He was one of that
class of officers who are disliked by their captain and despised by the
crew.  He used to hold long yarns with the crew, and talk about the
captain, and play with the boys, and relax discipline in every way.
This kind of conduct always makes the captain suspicious, and is never
pleasant, in the end, to the men; they preferring to have an officer
active, vigilant, and distant as may be, with kindness.  Among other
bad practices, he frequently slept on his watch, and having been
discovered asleep by the captain, he was told that he would be turned
off duty if he did it again.  To prevent it in every way possible, the
hen-coops were ordered to be knocked up, for the captain never sat down
on deck himself, and never permitted an officer to do so.

The second night after crossing the equator, we had the watch from
eight till twelve, and it was "my helm" for the last two hours. There
had been light squalls through the night, and the captain told Mr.
F----, who commanded our watch, to keep a bright look-out. Soon after I
came to the helm, I found that he was quite drowsy, and at last he
stretched himself on the companion and went fast asleep. Soon
afterwards, the captain came very quietly on deck, and stood by me for
some time looking at the compass.  The officer at length became aware
of the captain's presence, but pretending not to know it, began humming
and whistling to himself, to show that he was not asleep, and went
forward, without looking behind him, and ordered the main royal to be
loosed.  On turning round to come aft, he pretended surprise at seeing
the master on deck.  This would not do. The captain was too "wide
awake" for him, and beginning upon him at once, gave him a grand
blow-up, in true nautical style--"You're a lazy, good-for-nothing
rascal; you're neither man, boy, soger, nor sailor! you're no more than
a thing aboard a vessel! you don't earn your salt! you're worse than a
Mahon soger!" and other still more choice extracts from the sailor's
vocabulary.  After the poor fellow had taken the harangue, he was sent
into his state-room, and the captain stood the rest of the watch
himself.

At seven bells in the morning, all hands were called aft and told that
F---- was no longer an officer on board, and that we might choose one
of our own number for second mate.  It is usual for the captain to make
this offer, and it is very good policy, for the crew think themselves
the choosers and are flattered by it, but have to obey, nevertheless.
Our crew, as is usual, refused to take the responsibility of choosing a
man of whom we would never be able to complain, and left it to the
captain.  He picked out an active and intelligent young sailor, born
near the Kennebee, who had been several Canton voyages, and proclaimed
him in the following manner: "I choose Jim Hall--he's your second mate.
All you've got to do is, to obey him as you would me; and remember that
he is Mr. Hall." F---- went forward into the forecastle as a common
sailor, and lost the handle to his name, while young fore-mast Jim
became Mr. Hall, and took up his quarters in the land of knives and
forks and tea-cups.

Sunday, October 5th.  It was our morning watch; when, soon after the
day began to break, a man on the forecastle called out, "Land ho!" I
had never heard the cry before, and did not know what it meant, (and
few would suspect what the words were, when hearing the strange sound
for the first time,) but I soon found, by the direction of all eyes,
that there was land stretching along our weather beam. We immediately
took in studding-sails and hauled our wind, running in for the land.
This was done to determine our longitude; for by the captain's
chronometer we were in 25º W., but by his observations we were much
farther, and he had been for some time in doubt whether it was his
chronometer or his sextant which was out of order. This land-fall
settled the matter, and the former instrument was condemned, and
becoming still worse, was never afterwards used.

As we ran in towards the coast, we found that we were directly off the
port of Pernambuco, and could see with the telescope the roofs of the
houses, and one large church, and the town of Olinda.  We ran along by
the mouth of the harbor, and saw a full-rigged brig going in. At two,
P.M., we again kept off before the wind, leaving the land on our
quarter, and at sun-down, it was out of sight.  It was here that I
first saw one of those singular things called catamarans.  They are
composed of logs lashed together upon the water; have one large sail,
are quite fast, and, strange as it may seem, are trusted as good sea
boats.  We saw several, with from one to three men in each, boldly
putting out to sea, after it had become almost dark. The Indians go out
in them after fish, and as the weather is regular in certain seasons,
they have no fear.  After taking a new departure from Olinda, we kept
off on our way to Cape Horn.

We met with nothing remarkable until we were in the latitude of the
river La Plata.  Here there are violent gales from the south-west,
called Pomperos, which are very destructive to the shipping in the
river, and are felt for many leagues at sea.  They are usually preceded
by lightning.  The captain told the mates to keep a bright look-out,
and if they saw lightning at the south-west, to take in sail at once.
We got the first touch of one during my watch on deck. I was walking in
the lee gangway, and thought that I saw lightning on the lee bow.  I
told the second mate, who came over and looked out for some time.  It
was very black in the south-west, and in about ten minutes we saw a
distinct flash.  The wind, which had been south-east, had now left us,
and it was dead calm.  We sprang aloft immediately and furled the
royals and top-gallant-sails, and took in the flying jib, hauled up the
mainsail and trysail, squared the after yards, and awaited the attack.
A huge mist capped with black clouds came driving towards us, extending
over that quarter of the horizon, and covering the stars, which shone
brightly in the other part of the heavens.  It came upon us at once
with a blast, and a shower of hail and rain, which almost took our
breath from us.  The hardiest was obliged to turn his back. We let the
halyards run, and fortunately were not taken aback. The little vessel
"paid off" from the wind, and ran on for some time directly before it,
tearing through the water with everything flying.  Having called all
hands, we close-reefed the topsails and trysail, furled the courses and
job, set the fore-top-mast staysail, and brought her up nearly to her
course, with the weather braces hauled in a little, to ease her.

This was the first blow, that I had seen, which could really be called
a gale.  We had reefed our topsails in the Gulf Stream, and I thought
it something serious, but an older sailor would have thought nothing of
it.  As I had now become used to the vessel and to my duty, I was of
some service on a yard, and could knot my reef-point as well as
anybody.  I obeyed the order to lay[1] aloft with the rest, and found
the reefing a very exciting scene; for one watch reefed the
fore-topsail, and the other the main, and every one did his utmost to
get his topsail hoisted first.  We had a great advantage over the
larboard watch, because the chief mate never goes aloft, while our new
second mate used to jump into the rigging as soon as we began to haul
out the reef-tackle, and have the weather earing passed before there
was a man upon the yard.  In this way we were almost always able to
raise the cry of "Haul out to leeward" before them, and having knotted
our points, would slide down the shrouds and back-stays, and sing out
at the topsail halyards to let it be known that we were ahead of them.
Reefing is the most exciting part of a sailor's duty. All hands are
engaged upon it, and after the halyards are let go, there is no time to
be lost--no "sogering," or hanging back, then. If one is not quick
enough, another runs over him.  The first on the yard goes to the
weather earing, the second to the lee, and the next two to the "dog's
ears;" while the others lay along into the bunt, just giving each other
elbow-room.  In reefing, the yard-arms (the extremes of the yards) are
the posts of honor; but in furling, the strongest and most experienced
stand in the slings, (or, middle of the yard,) to make up the bunt.  If
the second mate is a smart fellow, he will never let any one take
either of these posts from him; but if he is wanting either in
seamanship, strength, or activity, some better man will get the bunt
and earings from him; which immediately brings him into disrepute.

We remained for the rest of the night, and throughout the next day,
under the same close sail, for it continued to blow very fresh; and
though we had no more hail, yet there was a soaking rain, and it was
quite cold and uncomfortable; the more so, because we were not prepared
for cold weather, but had on our thin clothes. We were glad to get a
watch below, and put on our thick clothing, boots, and south-westers.
Towards sun-down the gale moderated a little, and it began to clear off
in the south-west.  We shook our reefs out, one by one, and before
midnight had top-gallant sails upon her.

We had now made up our minds for Cape Horn and cold weather, and
entered upon every necessary preparation.

Tuesday, Nov. 4th.  At day-break, saw land upon our larboard quarter.
There were two islands, of different size but of the same shape; rather
high, beginning low at the water's edge, and running with a curved
ascent to the middle.  They were so far off as to be of a deep blue
color, and in a few hours we sank them in the north-east. These were
the Falkland Islands.  We had run between them and the main land of
Patagonia.  At sun-set the second mate, who was at the masthead, said
that he saw land on the starboard bow.  This must have been the island
of Staten Land; and we were now in the region of Cape Horn, with a fine
breeze from the northward, top-mast and top-gallant studding-sails set,
and every prospect of a speedy and pleasant passage round.


[1] This word "lay," which is in such general use on board ship, being
used in giving orders instead of "go"; as "Lay forward!" "Lay aft!"
"Lay aloft!" etc., I do not understand to be the neuter verb, lie,
mispronounced, but to be the active verb lay, with the objective case
understood; as "Lay yourselves forwards!" "Lay yourselves aft!" etc.




CHAPTER V

CAPE HORN--A VISIT

Wednesday, Nov. 5th.  The weather was fine during the previous night,
and we had a clear view of the Magellan Clouds, and of the Southern
Cross. The Magellan Clouds consist of three small nebulae in the
southern part of the heavens,--two bright, like the milky-way, and one
dark. These are first seen, just above the horizon, soon after crossing
the southern tropic.  When off Cape Horn, they are nearly overhead. The
cross is composed of four stars in that form, and is said to be the
brightest constellation in the heavens.

During the first part of this day (Wednesday) the wind was light, but
after noon it came on fresh, and we furled the royals.  We still kept
the studding-sails out, and the captain said he should go round with
them, if he could.  Just before eight o'clock, (then about sun-down, in
that latitude,) the cry of "All hands ahoy!" was sounded down the fore
scuttle and the after hatchway, and hurrying upon deck, we found a
large black cloud rolling on toward us from the south-west, and
blackening the whole heavens.  "Here comes the Cape Horn!" said the
chief mate; and we had hardly time to haul down and clew up, before it
was upon us.  In a few moments, a heavier sea was raised than I had
ever seen before, and as it was directly ahead, the little brig, which
was no better than a bathing machine, plunged into it, and all the
forward part of her was under water; the sea pouring in through the
bow-ports and hawse-hole and over the knight-heads, threatening to wash
everything overboard.  In the lee scuppers it was up to a man's waist.
We sprang aloft and double reefed the topsails, and furled all the
other sails, and made all snug. But this would not do; the brig was
laboring and straining against the head sea, and the gale was growing
worse and worse.  At the same time the sleet and hail were driving with
all fury against us. We clewed down, and hauled out the reef-tackles
again, and close-reefed the fore-topsail, and furled the main, and hove
her to on the starboard tack.  Here was an end to our fine prospects.
We made up our minds to head winds and cold weather; sent down the
royal yards, and unrove the gear, but all the rest of the top hamper
remained aloft, even to the sky-sail masts and studding-sail booms.

Throughout the night it stormed violently--rain, hail, snow, and sleet
beating down upon the vessel--the wind continuing to break ahead, and
the sea running high.  At daybreak (about three, A.M.) the deck was
covered with snow.  The captain sent up the steward with a glass of
grog to each of the watch; and all the time that we were off the Cape,
grog was given to the morning watch, and to all hands whenever we
reefed topsails.  The clouds cleared away at sun-rise, and the wind
becoming more fair, we again made sail and stood nearly up to our
course.

Thursday, Nov. 6th.  It continued more pleasant through the first part
of the day, but at night we had the same scene over again. This time,
we did not heave to, as on the night before, but endeavored to beat to
windward under close-reefed top-sails, balance-reefed trysail, and fore
top-mast stay-sail.  This night it was my turn to steer, or, as the
sailors say, my trick at the helm, for two hours.  Inexperienced as I
was, I made out to steer to the satisfaction of the officer, and
neither S---- nor myself gave up our tricks, all the time that we were
off the Cape.  This was something to boast of, for it requires a good
deal of skill and watchfulness to steer a vessel close hauled, in a
gale of wind, against a heavy head sea.  "Ease her when she pitches,"
is the word; and a little carelessness in letting her ship a heavy sea,
might sweep the decks, or knock masts out of her.

Friday, Nov. 7th.  Towards morning the wind went down, and during the
whole forenoon we lay tossing about in a dead calm, and in the midst of
a thick fog.  The calms here are unlike those in most parts of the
world, for there is always such a high sea running, and the periods of
calm are so short, that it has no time to go down; and vessels, being
under no command of sails or rudder, lie like logs upon the water.  We
were obliged to steady the booms and yards by guys and braces, and to
lash everything well below.  We now found our top hamper of some use,
for though it is liable to be carried away or sprung by the sudden
"bringing up" of a vessel when pitching in a chopping sea, yet it is a
great help in steadying a vessel when rolling in a long swell; giving
it more slowness, ease, and regularity to the motion.

The calm of the morning reminds me of a scene which I forgot to
describe at the time of its occurrence, but which I remember from its
being the first time that I had heard the near breathing of whales. It
was on the night that we passed between the Falkland Islands and Staten
Land.  We had the watch from twelve to four, and coming upon deck,
found the little brig lying perfectly still, surrounded by a thick fog,
and the sea as smooth as though oil had been poured upon it; yet now
and then a long, low swell rolling over its surface, slightly lifting
the vessel, but without breaking the glassy smoothness of the water. We
were surrounded far and near by shoals of sluggish whales and
grampuses; which the fog prevented our seeing, rising slowly to the
surface, or perhaps lying out at length, heaving out those peculiar
lazy, deep, and long-drawn breathings which give such an impression of
supineness and strength.  Some of the watch were asleep, and the others
were perfectly still, so that there was nothing to break the illusion,
and I stood leaning over the bulwarks, listening to the slow breathing
of the mighty creatures--now one breaking the water just alongside,
whose black body I almost fancied that I could see through the fog; and
again another, which I could just hear in the distance--until the low
and regular swell seemed like the heaving of the ocean's mighty bosom
to the sound of its heavy and long-drawn respirations.

Towards the evening of this day, (Friday 7th,) the fog cleared off, and
we had every appearance of a cold blow; and soon after sun-down it came
on.  Again it was clew up and haul down, reef and furl, until we had
got her down to close-reefed topsails, double-reefed trysail, and
reefed forespenser.  Snow, hail, and sleet were driving upon us most of
the night, and the sea was breaking over the bows and covering the
forward part of the little vessel; but as she would lay her course the
captain refused to heave her to.

Saturday, Nov. 8th.  This day commenced with calm and thick fog, and
ended with hail, snow, a violent wind, and close-reefed topsails.

Sunday, Nov. 9th.  To-day the sun rose clear and continued so until
twelve o'clock, when the captain got an observation.  This was very
well for Cape Horn, and we thought it a little remarkable that, as we
had not had one unpleasant Sunday during the whole voyage, the only
tolerable day here should be a Sunday.  We got time to clear up the
steerage and forecastle, and set things to rights, and to overhaul our
wet clothes a little.  But this did not last very long.  Between five
and six--the sun was then nearly three hours high--the cry of "All
starbowlines ahoy!" summoned our watch on deck; and immediately all
hands were called.  A true specimen of Cape Horn was coming upon us.  A
great cloud of a dark slate-color was driving on us from the
south-west; and we did our best to take in sail, (for the light sails
had been set during the first part of the day,) before we were in the
midst of it.  We had got the light sails furled, the courses hauled up,
and the topsail reef-tackles hauled out, and were just mounting the
fore-rigging, when the storm struck us.  In an instant the sea, which
had been comparatively quiet, was running higher and higher; and it
became almost as dark as night. The hail and sleet were harder than I
had yet felt them; seeming to almost pin us down to the rigging.  We
were longer taking in sail than ever before; for the sails were stiff
and wet, the ropes and rigging covered with snow and sleet, and we
ourselves cold and nearly blinded with the violence of the storm.  By
the time we had got down upon deck again, the little brig was plunging
madly into a tremendous head sea, which at every drive rushed in
through the bow-ports and over the bows, and buried all the forward
part of the vessel.  At this instant the chief mate, who was standing
on the top of the windlass, at the foot of the spenser mast, called
out, "Lay out there and furl the jib!"  This was no agreeable or safe
duty, yet it must be done. An old Swede, (the best sailor on board,)
who belonged on the forecastle, sprang out upon the bowsprit.  Another
one must go: I was near the mate, and sprang forward, threw the
down-haul over the windlass, and jumped between the knight-heads out
upon the bowsprit.  The crew stood abaft the windlass and hauled the
jib down, while we got out upon the weather side of the jib-boom, our
feet on the foot ropes, holding on by the spar, the great jib flying
off to leeward and slatting so as almost to throw us off of the boom.
For some time we could do nothing but hold on, and the vessel diving
into two huge seas, one after the other, plunged us twice into the
water up to our chins.  We hardly knew whether we were on or off; when
coming up, dripping from the water, we were raised high into the air.
John (that was the sailor's name) thought the boom would go, every
moment, and called out to the mate to keep the vessel off, and haul
down the staysail; but the fury of the wind and the breaking of the
seas against the bows defied every attempt to make ourselves heard, and
we were obliged to do the best we could in our situation.  Fortunately,
no other seas so heavy struck her, and we succeeded in furling the jib
"after a fashion"; and, coming in over the staysail nettings, were not
a little pleased to find that all was snug, and the watch gone below;
for we were soaked through, and it was very cold.  The weather
continued nearly the same through the night.

Monday, Nov. 10th.  During a part of this day we were hove to, but the
rest of the time were driving on, under close-reefed sails, with a
heavy sea, a strong gale, and frequent squalls of hail and snow.

Tuesday, Nov. 11th.  The same.

Wednesday, Nov. 12th.  The same.

Thursday, Nov. 13th.  The same.

We had now got hardened to Cape weather, the vessel was under reduced
sail, and everything secured on deck and below, so that we had little
to do but steer and to stand our watch.  Our clothes were all wet
through, and the only change was from wet to more wet. It was in vain
to think of reading or working below, for we were too tired, the
hatchways were closed down, and everything was wet and uncomfortable,
black and dirty, heaving and pitching.  We had only to come below when
the watch was out, wring out our wet clothes, hang them up, and turn in
and sleep as soundly as we could, until the watch was called again.  A
sailor can sleep anywhere--no sound of wind, water, wood or iron can
keep him awake--and we were always fast asleep when three blows on the
hatchway, and the unwelcome cry of "All starbowlines ahoy! eight bells
there below! do you hear the news?" (the usual formula of calling the
watch), roused us up from our berths upon the cold, wet decks.  The
only time when we could be said to take any pleasure was at night and
morning, when we were allowed a tin pot full of hot tea, (or, as the
sailors significantly call it, "water bewitched,") sweetened with
molasses.  This, bad as it was, was still warm and comforting, and,
together with our sea biscuit and cold salt beef, made quite a meal.
Yet even this meal was attended with some uncertainty.  We had to go
ourselves to the galley and take our kid of beef and tin pots of tea,
and run the risk of losing them before we could get below.  Many a kid
of beef have I seen rolling in the scuppers, and the bearer lying at
his length on the decks.  I remember an English lad who was always the
life of the crew, but whom we afterwards lost overboard, standing for
nearly ten minutes at the galley, with this pot of tea in his hand,
waiting for a chance to get down into the forecastle; and seeing what
he thought was a "smooth spell," started to go forward.  He had just
got to the end of the windlass, when a great sea broke over the bows,
and for a moment I saw nothing of him but his head and shoulders; and
at the next instant, being taken off of his legs, he was carried aft
with the sea, until her stern lifting up and sending the water forward,
he was left high and dry at the side of the long-boat, still holding on
to his tin pot, which had now nothing in it but salt water.  But
nothing could ever daunt him, or overcome, for a moment, his habitual
good humor.  Regaining his legs, and shaking his fist at the man at the
wheel, he rolled below, saying, as he passed, "A man's no sailor, if he
can't take a joke."  The ducking was not the worst of such an affair,
for, as there was an allowance of tea, you could get no more from the
galley; and though sailors would never suffer a man to go without, but
would always turn in a little from their own pots to fill up his, yet
this was at best but dividing the loss among all hands.

Something of the same kind befell me a few days after.  The cook had
just made for us a mess of hot "scouse"--that is, biscuit pounded fine,
salt beef cut into small pieces, and a few potatoes, boiled up together
and seasoned with pepper.  This was a rare treat, and I, being the last
at the galley, had it put in my charge to carry down for the mess.  I
got along very well as far as the hatchway, and was just getting down
the steps, when a heavy sea, lifting the stern out of water, and
passing forward, dropping it down again, threw the steps from their
place, and I came down into the steerage a little faster than I meant
to, with the kid on top of me, and the whole precious mess scattered
over the floor.  Whatever your feelings may be, you must make a joke of
everything at sea; and if you were to fall from aloft and be caught in
the belly of a sail, and thus saved from instant death, it would not do
to look at all disturbed, or to make a serious matter of it.

Friday, Nov. 14th.  We were now well to the westward of the Cape and
were changing our course to the northward as much as we dared, since
the strong south-west winds, which prevailed then, carried us in toward
Patagonia.  At two, P.M., we saw a sail on our larboard beam, and at
four we made it out to be a large ship, steering our course, under
single-reefed topsails.  We at that time had shaken the reefs out of
our topsails, as the wind was lighter, and set the main top-gallant
sail.  As soon as our captain saw what sail she was under, he set the
fore top-gallant sail and flying jib; and the old whaler--for such, his
boats and short sail showed him to be--felt a little ashamed, and shook
the reefs out of his topsails, but could do no more, for he had sent
down his top-gallant masts off the Cape.  He ran down for us, and
answered our hail as the whale-ship, New England, of Poughkeepsie, one
hundred and twenty days from New York. Our captain gave our name, and
added, ninety-two days from Boston. They then had a little conversation
about longitude, in which they found that they could not agree.  The
ship fell astern, and continued in sight during the night.  Toward
morning, the wind having become light, we crossed our royal and skysail
yards, and at daylight we were seen under a cloud of sail, having royal
and skysails fore and aft.  The "spouter," as the sailors call a
whaleman, had sent up his main top-gallant mast and set the sail, and
made signal for us to heave to.  About half-past seven their whale-boat
came alongside, and Captain Job Terry sprang on board, a man known in
every port and by every vessel in the Pacific ocean.  "Don't you know
Job Terry? I thought everybody knew Job Terry," said a green-hand, who
came in the boat, to me, when I asked him about his captain.  He was
indeed a singular man.  He was six feet high, wore thick, cowhide
boots, and brown coat and trowsers, and, except a sun-burnt complexion,
had not the slightest appearance of a sailor; yet he had been forty
years in the whale trade, and, as he said himself, had owned ships,
built ships, and sailed ships.  His boat's crew were a pretty raw set,
just out of the bush, and as the sailor's phrase is, "hadn't got the
hayseed out of their hair."  Captain Terry convinced our captain that
our reckoning was a little out, and, having spent the day on board, put
off in his boat at sunset for his ship, which was now six or eight
miles astern.  He began a "yarn" when he came on board, which lasted,
with but little intermission, for four hours. It was all about himself,
and the Peruvian government, and the Dublin frigate, and Lord James
Townshend, and President Jackson, and the ship Ann M'Kim of Baltimore.
It would probably never have come to an end, had not a good breeze
sprung up, which sent him off to his own vessel.  One of the lads who
came in his boat, a thoroughly countrified-looking fellow, seemed to
care very little about the vessel, rigging, or anything else, but went
round looking at the live stock, and leaned over the pig-sty, and said
he wished he was back again tending his father's pigs.

At eight o'clock we altered our course to the northward, bound for Juan
Fernandez.

This day we saw the last of the albatrosses, which had been our
companions a great part of the time off the Cape.  I had been
interested in the bird from descriptions which I had read of it, and
was not at all disappointed.  We caught one or two with a baited hook
which we floated astern upon a shingle.  Their long, flapping wings,
long legs, and large, staring eyes, give them a very peculiar
appearance.  They look well on the wing; but one of the finest sights
that I have ever seen, was an albatross asleep upon the water, during a
calm, off Cape Horn, when a heavy sea was running.  There being no
breeze, the surface of the water was unbroken, but a long, heavy swell
was rolling, and we saw the fellow, all white, directly ahead of us,
asleep upon the waves, with his head under his wing; now rising on the
top of a huge billow, and then falling slowly until he was lost in the
hollow between. He was undisturbed for some time, until the noise of
our bows, gradually approaching, roused him, when, lifting his head, he
stared upon us for a moment, and then spread his wide wings and took
his flight.




CHAPTER VI

LOSS OF A MAN--SUPERSTITION

Monday, Nov. 19th.  This was a black day in our calendar.  At seven
o'clock in the morning, it being our watch below, we were aroused from
a sound sleep by the cry of "All hands ahoy! a man overboard!" This
unwonted cry sent a thrill through the heart of every one, and hurrying
on deck we found the vessel hove flat aback, with all her
studding-sails set; for the boy who was at the helm left it to throw
something overboard, and the carpenter, who was an old sailor, knowing
that the wind was light, put the helm down and hove her aback. The
watch on deck were lowering away the quarter-boat, and I got on deck
just in time to heave myself into her as she was leaving the side; but
it was not until out upon the wide Pacific, in our little boat, that I
knew whom we had lost.  It was George Ballmer, a young English sailor,
who was prized by the officers as an active lad and willing seaman, and
by the crew as a lively, hearty fellow, and a good shipmate. He was
going aloft to fit a strap round the main top-mast-head, for ringtail
halyards, and had the strap and block, a coil of halyards and a
marline-spike about his neck.  He fell from the starboard futtock
shrouds, and not knowing how to swim, and being heavily dressed, with
all those things round his neck, he probably sank immediately.  We
pulled astern, in the direction in which he fell, and though we knew
that there was no hope of saving him, yet no one wished to speak of
returning, and we rowed about for nearly an hour, without the hope of
doing anything, but unwilling to acknowledge to ourselves that we must
give him up. At length we turned the boat's head and made towards the
vessel.

Death is at all times solemn, but never so much so as at sea.  A man
dies on shore; his body remains with his friends, and "the mourners go
about the streets;" but when a man falls overboard at sea and is lost,
there is a suddenness in the event, and a difficulty in realizing it,
which give to it an air of awful mystery.  A man dies on shore--you
follow his body to the grave, and a stone marks the spot.  You are
often prepared for the event.  There is always something which helps
you to realize it when it happens, and to recall it when it has passed.
A man is shot down by your side in battle, and the mangled body remains
an object, and a real evidence; but at sea, the man is near you--at
your side--you hear his voice, and in an instant he is gone, and
nothing but a vacancy shows his loss.  Then, too, at sea--to use a
homely but expressive phrase--you miss a man so much.  A dozen men are
shut up together in a little bark, upon the wide, wide sea, and for
months and months see no forms and hear no voices but their own, and
one is taken suddenly from among them, and they miss him at every turn.
It is like losing a limb.  There are no new faces or new scenes to fill
up the gap.  There is always an empty berth in the forecastle, and one
man wanting when the small night watch is mustered.  There is one less
to take the wheel, and one less to lay out with you upon the yard.  You
miss his form, and the sound of his voice, for habit had made them
almost necessary to you, and each of your senses feels the loss.

All these things make such a death peculiarly solemn, and the effect of
it remains upon the crew for some time.  There is more kindness shown
by the officers to the crew, and by the crew to one another. There is
more quietness and seriousness.  The oath and the loud laugh are gone.
The officers are more watchful, and the crew go more carefully aloft.
The lost man is seldom mentioned, or is dismissed with a sailor's rude
eulogy--"Well, poor George is gone! His cruise is up soon!  He knew his
work, and did his duty, and was a good shipmate."  Then usually follows
some allusion to another world, for sailors are almost all believers;
but their notions and opinions are unfixed and at loose ends.  They
say,--"God won't be hard upon the poor fellow," and seldom get beyond
the common phrase which seems to imply that their sufferings and hard
treatment here will excuse them hereafter,--"To work hard, live hard,
die hard, and go to hell after all, would be hard indeed!"  Our cook, a
simple-hearted old African, who had been through a good deal in his
day, and was rather seriously inclined, always going to church twice a
day when on shore, and reading his Bible on a Sunday in the galley,
talked to the crew about spending their Sabbaths badly, and told them
that they might go as suddenly as George had, and be as little prepared.

Yet a sailor's life is at best, but a mixture of a little good with
much evil, and a little pleasure with much pain.  The beautiful is
linked with the revolting, the sublime with the commonplace, and the
solemn with the ludicrous.

We had hardly returned on board with our sad report, before an auction
was held of the poor man's clothes.  The captain had first, however,
called all hands aft and asked them if they were satisfied that
everything had been done to save the man, and if they thought there was
any use in remaining there longer.  The crew all said that it was in
vain, for the man did not know how to swim, and was very heavily
dressed.  So we then filled away and kept her off to her course.

The laws regulating navigation make the captain answerable for the
effects of a sailor who dies during the voyage, and it is either a law
or a universal custom, established for convenience, that the captain
should immediately hold an auction of his things, in which they are bid
off by the sailors, and the sums which they give are deducted from
their wages at the end of the voyage.  In this way the trouble and risk
of keeping his things through the voyage are avoided, and the clothes
are usually sold for more than they would be worth on shore.
Accordingly, we had no sooner got the ship before the wind, than his
chest was brought up upon the forecastle, and the sale began. The
jackets and trowsers in which we had seen him dressed but a few days
before, were exposed and bid off while the life was hardly out of his
body, and his chest was taken aft and used as a store-chest, so that
there was nothing left which could be called his.  Sailors have an
unwillingness to wear a dead man's clothes during the same voyage, and
they seldom do so unless they are in absolute want.

As is usual after a death, many stories were told about George. Some
had heard him say that he repented never having learned to swim, and
that he knew that he should meet his death by drowning.  Another said
that he never knew any good to come of a voyage made against the will,
and the deceased man shipped and spent his advance and was afterwards
very unwilling to go, but not being able to refund, was obliged to sail
with us.  A boy, too, who had become quite attached to him, said that
George talked to him during most of the watch on the night before,
about his mother and family at home, and this was the first time that
he had mentioned the subject during the voyage.

The night after this event, when I went to the galley to get a light, I
found the cook inclined to be talkative, so I sat down on the spars,
and gave him an opportunity to hold a yarn.  I was the more inclined to
do so, as I found that he was full of the superstitions once more
common among seamen, and which the recent death had waked up in his
mind. He talked about George's having spoken of his friends, and said
he believed few men died without having a warning of it, which he
supported by a great many stories of dreams, and the unusual behavior
of men before death.  From this he went on to other superstitions, the
Flying Dutchman, etc., and talked rather mysteriously, having something
evidently on his mind.

At length he put his head out of the galley and looked carefully about
to see if any one was within hearing, and being satisfied on that
point, asked me in a low tone--

"I say! you know what countryman 'e carpenter be?"

"Yes," said I; "he's a German."

"What kind of a German?" said the cook.

"He belongs to Bremen," said I.

"Are you sure o' dat?" said he.

I satisfied him on that point by saying that he could speak no language
but the German and English.

"I'm plaguy glad o' dat," said the cook.  "I was mighty 'fraid he was a
Fin.  I tell you what, I been plaguy civil to that man all the voyage."

I asked him the reason of this, and found that he was fully possessed
with the notion that Fins are wizards, and especially have power over
winds and storms.  I tried to reason with him about it, but he had the
best of all arguments, that from experience, at hand, and was not to be
moved.  He had been in a vessel at the Sandwich Islands, in which the
sail-maker was a Fin, and could do anything he was of a mind to. This
sail-maker kept a junk bottle in his berth, which was always just half
full of rum, though he got drunk upon it nearly every day.  He had seen
him sit for hours together, talking to this bottle, which he stood up
before him on the table.  The same man cut his throat in his berth, and
everybody said he was possessed.

He had heard of ships, too, beating up the gulf of Finland against a
head wind, and having a ship heave in sight astern, overhaul and pass
them, with as fair a wind as could blow, and all studding-sails out,
and find she was from Finland.

"Oh ho!" said he; "I've seen too much of them men to want to see 'em
'board a ship.  If they can't have their own way, they'll play the
d---l with you."

As I still doubted, he said he would leave it to John, who was the
oldest seaman aboard, and would know, if anybody did.  John, to be
sure, was the oldest, and at the same time the most ignorant, man in
the ship; but I consented to have him called.  The cook stated the
matter to him, and John, as I anticipated, sided with the cook, and
said that he himself had been in a ship where they had a head wind for
a fortnight, and the captain found out at last that one of the men,
whom he had had some hard words with a short time before, was a Fin,
and immediately told him if he didn't stop the head wind he would shut
him down in the fore peak, and would not give him anything to eat.  The
Fin held out for a day and a half, when he could not stand it any
longer, and did something or other which brought the wind round again,
and they let him up.

"There," said the cook, "what do you think o' dat?"

I told him I had no doubt it was true, and that it would have been odd
if the wind had not changed in fifteen days, Fin or no Fin.

"Oh," says he, "go 'way!  You think, 'cause you been to college, you
know better than anybody.  You know better than them as 'as seen it
with their own eyes.  You wait till you've been to sea as long as I
have, and you'll know."




CHAPTER VII

JUAN FERNANDEZ--THE PACIFIC

We continued sailing along with a fair wind and fine weather until
Tuesday, Nov. 25th, when at daylight we saw the island of Juan
Fernandez, directly ahead, rising like a deep blue cloud out of the
sea.  We were then probably nearly seventy miles from it; and so high
and so blue did it appear, that I mistook it for a cloud, resting over
the island, and looked for the island under it, until it gradually
turned to a deader and greener color, and I could mark the inequalities
upon its surface.  At length we could distinguish trees and rocks; and
by the afternoon, this beautiful island lay fairly before us, and we
directed our course to the only harbor.  Arriving at the entrance soon
after sun-down, we found a Chilian man-of-war brig, the only vessel,
coming out.  She hailed us, and an officer on board, whom we supposed
to be an American, advised us to run in before night, and said that
they were bound to Valparaiso.  We ran immediately for the anchorage,
but, owing to the winds which drew about the mountains and came to us
in flaws from every point of the compass, we did not come to an anchor
until nearly midnight.  We had a boat ahead all the time that we were
working in, and those aboard were continually bracing the yards about
for every puff that struck us, until about 12 o'clock, when we came-to
in 40 fathoms water, and our anchor struck bottom for the first time
since we left Boston--one hundred and three days. We were then divided
into three watches, and thus stood out the remainder of the night.

I was called on deck to stand my watch at about three in the morning,
and I shall never forget the peculiar sensation which I experienced on
finding myself once more surrounded by land, feeling the night breeze
coming from off shore, and hearing the frogs and crickets. The
mountains seemed almost to hang over us, and apparently from the very
heart there came out, at regular intervals, a loud echoing sound, which
affected me as hardly human.  We saw no lights, and could hardly
account for the sound, until the mate, who had been there before, told
us that it was the "Alerta" of the Spanish soldiers, who were stationed
over some convicts confined in caves nearly halfway up the mountain. At
the expiration of my watch I went below, feeling not a little anxious
for the day, that I might see more nearly, and perhaps tread upon, this
romantic, I may almost say, classic island.

When all hands were called it was nearly sunrise, and between that time
and breakfast, although quite busy on board in getting up water-casks,
etc., I had a good view of the objects about me.  The harbor was nearly
land-locked, and at the head of it was a landing-place, protected by a
small breakwater of stones, upon which two large boats were hauled up,
with a sentry standing over them.  Near this was a variety of huts or
cottages, nearly an hundred in number, the best of them built of mud
and white washed, but the greater part only Robinson Crusoe like--of
posts and branches of trees.  The governor's house, as it is called,
was the most conspicuous, being large, with grated windows, plastered
walls, and roof of red tiles; yet, like all the rest, only of one
story. Near it was a small chapel, distinguished by a cross; and a
long, low brown-looking building, surrounded by something like a
palisade, from which an old and dingy-looking Chilian flag was flying.
This, of course, was dignified by the title of Presidio.  A sentinel
was stationed at the chapel, another at the governor's house, and a few
soldiers armed with bayonets, looking rather ragged, with shoes out at
the toes, were strolling about among the houses, or waiting at the
landing-place for our boat to come ashore.

The mountains were high, but not so overhanging as they appeared to be
by starlight.  They seemed to bear off towards the centre of the
island, and were green and well wooded, with some large, and, I am
told, exceedingly fertile valleys, with mule-tracks leading to
different parts of the island.

I cannot forget how my friend S---- and myself got the laugh of the
crew upon us for our eagerness to get on shore.  The captain having
ordered the quarter-boat to be lowered, we both sprang down into the
forecastle, filled our jacket pockets with tobacco to barter with the
people ashore, and when the officer called for "four hands in the
boat," nearly broke our necks in our haste to be first over the side,
and had the pleasure of pulling ahead of the brig with a tow-line for a
half an hour, and coming on board again to be laughed at by the crew,
who had seen our manoeuvre.

After breakfast the second mate was ordered ashore with five hands to
fill the water-casks, and to my joy I was among the number. We pulled
ashore with the empty casks; and here again fortune favored me, for the
water was too thick and muddy to be put into the casks, and the
governor had sent men up to the head of the stream to clear it out for
us, which gave us nearly two hours of leisure.  This leisure we
employed in wandering about among the houses, and eating a little fruit
which was offered to us. Ground apples, melons, grapes, strawberries of
an enormous size, and cherries, abounded here.  The latter are said to
have been planted by Lord Anson.  The soldiers were miserably clad, and
asked with some interest whether we had any shoes to sell on board. I
doubt very much if they had the means of buying them.  They were very
eager to get tobacco, for which they gave shells, fruits, etc. Knives
also were in demand, but we were forbidden by the governor to let any
one have them, as he told us that all the people there, except the
soldiers and a few officers, were convicts sent from Valparaiso, and
that it was necessary to keep all weapons from their hands.  The
island, it seems, belongs to Chili, and had been used by the government
as a sort of Botany Bay for nearly two years; and the governor--an
Englishman who had entered the Chilian navy--with a priest, half a
dozen task-masters, and a body of soldiers, were stationed there to
keep them in order.  This was no easy task; and only a few months
before our arrival, a few of them had stolen a boat at night, boarded a
brig lying in the harbor, sent the captain and crew ashore in their
boat, and gone off to sea.  We were informed of this, and loaded our
arms and kept strict watch on board through the night, and were careful
not to let the convicts get our knives from us when on shore.  The
worst part of the convicts, I found, were locked up under sentry in
caves dug into the side of the mountain, nearly halfway up, with
mule-tracks leading to them, whence they were taken by day and set to
work under task-masters upon building an aqueduct, a wharf, and other
public works; while the rest lived in the houses which they put up for
themselves, had their families with them, and seemed to me to be the
laziest people on the face of the earth.  They did nothing but take a
paseo into the woods, a  paseo among the houses, a paseo at the
landing-place, looking at us and our vessel, and too lazy to speak
fast; while the others were driving--or rather, driven--about, at a
rapid trot, in single file, with burdens on their shoulders, and
followed up by their task-masters, with long rods in their hands, and
broadbrimmed straw hats upon their heads.  Upon what precise grounds
this great distinction was made, I do not know, and I could not very
well know, for the governor was the only man who spoke English upon the
island, and he was out of my walk.

Having filled our casks, we returned on board, and soon after, the
governor, dressed in a uniform like that of an American militia
officer, the Padre, in the dress of the grey friars, with hood and all
complete, and the Capitan, with big whiskers and dirty regimentals,
came on board to dine.  While at dinner, a large ship appeared in the
offing, and soon afterwards we saw a light whale-boat pulling into the
harbor.  The ship lay off and on, and a boat came alongside of us, and
put on board the captain, a plain young Quaker, dressed all in brown.
The ship was the Cortes, whaleman, of New Bedford, and had put in to
see if there were any vessels from round the Horn, and to hear the
latest news from America.  They remained aboard a short time and had a
little talk with the crew, when they left us and pulled off to their
ship, which, having filled away, was soon out of sight.

A small boat which came from the shore to take away the governor and
suite--as they styled themselves--brought, as a present to the crew, a
large pail of milk, a few shells, and a block of sandal wood. The milk,
which was the first we had tasted since leaving Boston, we soon
despatched; a piece of the sandal wood I obtained, and learned that it
grew on the hills in the centre of the island. I have always regretted
that I did not bring away other specimens of the products of the
island, having afterwards lost all that I had with me--the piece of
sandal wood, and a small flower which I plucked and brought on board in
the crown of my tarpaulin, and carefully pressed between the leaves of
a book.

About an hour before sun-down, having stowed our water casks, we
commenced getting under weigh, and were not a little while about it;
for we were in thirty fathoms water, and in one of the gusts which came
off shore had let go our other bow anchor; and as the southerly wind
draws round the mountains and comes off in uncertain flaws, we were
continually swinging round, and had thus got a very foul hawse. We hove
in upon our chain, and after stoppering and unshackling it again and
again, and hoisting and hauling down sail, we at length tipped our
anchor and stood out to sea.  It was bright starlight when we were
clear of the bay, and the lofty island lay behind us, in its still
beauty, and I gave a parting look, and bid farewell, to the most
romantic spot of earth that my eyes had ever seen. I did then, and have
ever since, felt an attachment for that island, altogether peculiar.
It was partly, no doubt, from its having been the first land that I had
seen since leaving home, and still more from the associations which
every one has connected with it in their childhood from reading
Robinson Crusoe.  To this I may add the height and romantic outline of
its mountains, the beauty and freshness of its verdure, and the extreme
fertility of its soil, and its solitary position in the midst of the
wide expanse of the South Pacific, as all concurring to give it its
peculiar charm.

When thoughts of this place have occurred to me at different times, I
have endeavored to recall more particulars with regard to it. It is
situated in about 33º 30' S., and is distant a little more than three
hundred miles from Valparaiso, on the coast of Chili, which is in the
same latitude.  It is about fifteen miles in length and five in
breadth.  The harbor in which we anchored (called by Lord Anson,
Cumberland bay) is the only one in the island; two small bights of land
on each side of the main bay (sometimes dignified by the name of bays)
being little more than landing-places for boats.  The best anchorage is
at the western side of the bay, where we lay at about three cables'
lengths from the shore, in a little more than thirty fathoms water.
This harbor is open to the N.N.E., and in fact nearly from N. to E.,
but the only dangerous winds being the south-west, on which side are
the highest mountains, it is considered very safe. The most remarkable
thing perhaps about it is the fish with which it abounds.  Two of our
crew, who remained on board, caught in a few minutes enough to last us
for several days, and one of the men, who was a Marblehead man, said
that he never saw or heard of such an abundance.  There were cod,
breams, silver-fish, and other kinds whose names they did not know, or
which I have forgotten.

There is an abundance of the best of water upon the island, small
streams running through every valley, and leaping down from the sides
of the hills.  One stream of considerable size flows through the centre
of the lawn upon which the houses are built, and furnishes an easy and
abundant supply to the inhabitants.  This, by means of a short wooden
aqueduct, was brought quite down to our boats. The convicts had also
built something in the way of a breakwater, and were to build a
landing-place for boats and goods, after which the Chilian government
intended to lay port charges.

Of the wood I can only say, that it appeared to be abundant; the island
in the month of November, when we were there, being in all the
freshness and beauty of spring, appeared covered with trees. These were
chiefly aromatic, and the largest was the myrtle. The soil is very
loose and rich, and wherever it is broken up, there spring up
immediately radishes, turnips, ground apples, and other garden fruits.
Goats, we were told, were not abundant, and we saw none, though it was
said we might, if we had gone into the interior.  We saw a few bullocks
winding about in the narrow tracks upon the sides of the mountains, and
the settlement was completely overrun with dogs of every nation,
kindred, and degree. Hens and chickens were also abundant, and seemed
to be taken good care of by the women.  The men appeared to be the
laziest people upon the face of the earth; and indeed, as far as my
observation goes, there are no people to whom the newly-invented Yankee
word of "loafer" is more applicable than to the Spanish Americans.
These men stood about doing nothing, with their cloaks, little better
in texture than an Indian's blanket, but of rich colors, thrown over
their shoulders with an air which it is said that a Spanish beggar can
always give to his rags; and with great politeness and courtesy in
their address, though with holes in their shoes and without a sou in
their pockets.  The only interruption to the monotony of their day
seemed to be when a gust of wind drew round between the mountains and
blew off the boughs which they had placed for roofs to their houses,
and gave them a few minutes' occupation in running about after them.
One of these gusts occurred while we were ashore, and afforded us no
little amusement at seeing the men look round, and if they found that
their roofs had stood, conclude that they might stand too, while those
who saw theirs blown off, after uttering a few Spanish oaths, gathered
their cloaks over their shoulders, and started off after them.
However, they were not gone long, but soon returned to their habitual
occupation of doing nothing.

It is perhaps needless to say that we saw nothing of the interior; but
all who have seen it, give very glowing accounts of it. Our captain
went with the governor and a few servants upon mules over the
mountains, and upon their return, I heard the governor request him to
stop at the island on his passage home, and offer him a handsome sum to
bring a few deer with him from California, for he said that there were
none upon the island, and he was very desirous of having it stocked.

A steady, though light south-westerly wind carried us well off from the
island, and when I came on deck for the middle watch I could just
distinguish it from its hiding a few low stars in the southern horizon,
though my unpracticed eyes would hardly have known it for land. At the
close of the watch a few trade-wind clouds which had arisen, though we
were hardly yet in their latitude, shut it out from our view, and the
next day,

Thursday, Nov. 27th, upon coming on deck in the morning, we were again
upon the wide Pacific, and saw no more land until we arrived upon the
western coast of the great continent of America.




CHAPTER VIII

"TARRING DOWN"--DAILY LIFE--"GOING AFT"--CALIFORNIA

As we saw neither land nor sail from the time of leaving Juan Fernandez
until our arrival in California, nothing of interest occurred except
our own doing on board.  We caught the south-east trades, and run
before them for nearly three weeks, without so much as altering a sail
or bracing a yard.  The captain took advantage of this fine weather to
get the vessel in order for coming upon the coast. The carpenter was
employed in fitting up a part of the steerage into a trade-room; for
our cargo, we now learned, was not to be landed, but to be sold by
retail from on board; and this trade-room was built for the samples and
the lighter goods to be kept in, and as a place for the general
business.  In the mean time we were employed in working upon the
rigging.  Everything was set up taut, the lower rigging rattled down,
or rather rattled up, (according to the modern fashion,) an abundance
of spun-yarn and seizing-stuff made, and finally, the whole
standing-rigging, fore and aft, was tarred down.  This was my first
essay at this latter business, and I had enough of it; for nearly all
of it came upon my friend S---- and myself.  The men were needed at the
other work, and M----, the other young man who came out with us, was
laid up with the rheumatism in his feet, and the boy was rather too
young and small for the business; and as the winds were light and
regular, he was kept during most of the daytime at the helm; so that
nearly all the tarring came upon us.  We put on short duck frocks, and
taking a small bucket of tar and a bunch of oakum in our hands we went
aloft, one at the main royal-mast-head and the other at the fore, and
began tarring down.  This is an important operation, and is usually
done about once in six months in vessels upon a long voyage.  It was
done in our vessel several times afterwards, but by the whole crew at
once, and finished off in a day; but at this time, as most of it came
upon two of us, and we were new at the business, it took us several
days.  In this operation they always begin at the mast-head and work
down, tarring the shrouds, back-stays, standing parts of the lifts, the
ties, runners, etc., and go out to the yard-arms, and come in, tarring,
as they come, the lifts and foot-ropes. Tarring the stays is more
difficult, and is done by an operation which the sailors call "riding
down."  A long piece of rope--top-gallant-studding-sail halyards, or
something of the kind--is taken up to the mast-head from which the stay
leads, and rove through a block for a girt-line, or, as the sailors
usually call it, a gant-line; with the end of this a bowline is taken
round the stay, into which the man gets with his bucket of tar and a
bunch of oakum, and the other end being fast on deck, with some one to
tend it, he is lowered down gradually, and tars the stay carefully as
he goes. There he "sings aloft 'twixt heaven and earth," and if the
rope slips, breaks, or is let go, or if the bowline slips, he falls
overboard or breaks his neck.  This, however, is a thing which never
enters into a sailor's calculation.  He thinks only of leaving no
holydays, (places not tarred,) for in case he should, he would have to
go over the whole again; or of dropping no tar upon deck, for then
there would be a soft word in his ear from the mate.  In this manner I
tarred down all the head-stays, but found the rigging about the
jib-booms, martingale, and spritsail yard, upon which I was afterwards
put, the hardest.  Here you have to hang on with your eye-lids and tar
with your hands.

This dirty work could not last forever, and on Saturday night we
finished it, scraped all the spots from the deck and rails, and, what
was of more importance to us, cleaned ourselves thoroughly, rolled up
our tarry frocks and trowsers and laid them away for the next occasion,
and put on our clean duck clothes, and had a good comfortable sailor's
Saturday night.  The next day was pleasant, and indeed we had but one
unpleasant Sunday during the whole voyage, and that was off Cape Horn,
where we could expect nothing better. On Monday we commenced painting,
and getting the vessel ready for port.  This work, too, is done by the
crew, and every sailor who has been long voyages is a little of a
painter, in addition to his other accomplishments.  We painted her,
both inside and out, from the truck to the water's edge.  The outside
is painted by lowering stages over the side by ropes, and on those we
sat, with our brushes and paint-pots by us, and our feet half the time
in the water.  This must be done, of course, on a smooth day, when the
vessel does not roll much.  I remember very well being over the side
painting in this way, one fine afternoon, our vessel going quietly
along at the rate of four or five knots, and a pilot-fish, the sure
precursor of the shark, swimming alongside of us.  The captain was
leaning over the rail watching him, and we quietly went on with our
work.  In the midst of our painting, on

Friday, Dec. 19th, we crossed the equator for the second time. I had
the feeling which all have when, for the first time, they find
themselves living under an entire change of seasons; as, crossing the
line under a burning sun in the midst of December, and, as I afterwards
was, beating about among ice and snow on the fourth of July.

Thursday, Dec. 25th.  This day was Christmas, but it brought us no
holiday.  The only change was that we had a "plum duff" for dinner, and
the crew quarrelled with the steward because he did not give us our
usual allowance of molasses to eat with it.  He thought the plums would
be a substitute for the molasses, but we were not to be cheated out of
our rights in this way.

Such are the trifles which produce quarrels on shipboard.  In fact, we
had been too long from port.  We were getting tired of one another, and
were in an irritable state, both forward and aft.  Our fresh provisions
were, of course, gone, and the captain had stopped our rice, so that we
had nothing but salt beef and salt pork throughout the week, with the
exception of a very small duff on Sunday.  This added to the
discontent; and a thousand little things, daily and almost hourly
occurring, which no one who has not himself been on a long and tedious
voyage can conceive of or properly appreciate,--little wars and rumors
of wars,--reports of things said in the cabin,--misunderstanding of
words and looks,--apparent abuses,--brought us into a state in which
everything seemed to go wrong.  Every encroachment upon the time
allowed for rest, appeared unnecessary.  Every shifting of the
studding-sails was only to "haze"[1] the crew.

In this midst of this state of things, my messmate S---- and myself
petitioned the captain for leave to shift our berths from the steerage,
where we had previously lived, into the forecastle.  This, to our
delight, was granted, and we turned in to bunk and mess with the crew
forward. We now began to feel like sailors, which we never fully did
when we were in the steerage.  While there, however useful and active
you may be, you are but a mongrel,--and sort of afterguard and "ship's
cousin." You are immediately under the eye of the officers, cannot
dance, sing, play, smoke, make a noise, or growl, (i.e. complain,) or
take any other sailor's pleasure; and you live with the steward, who is
usually a go-between; and the crew never feel as though you were one of
them. But if you live in the forecastle, you are "as independent as a
wood-sawyer's clerk," (nautice',) and are a sailor.  You hear sailor's
talk, learn their ways, their peculiarities of feeling as well as
speaking and acting; and moreover pick up a great deal of curious and
useful information in seamanship, ship's customs, foreign countries,
etc., from their long yarns and equally long disputes.  No man can be a
sailor, or know what sailors are, unless he has lived in the forecastle
with them--turned in and out with them, eaten of their dish and drank
of their cup.  After I had been a week there, nothing would have
tempted me to go back to my old berth, and never afterwards, even in
the worst of weather, when in a close and leaking forecastle off Cape
Horn, did I for a moment wish myself in the steerage.  Another thing
which you learn better in the forecastle than you can anywhere else,
is, to make and mend clothes, and this is indispensable to sailors. A
large part of their watches below they spend at this work, and here I
learned that art which stood me in so good stead afterwards.

But to return to the state of the crew.  Upon our coming into the
forecastle, there was some difficulty about the uniting of the
allowances of bread, by which we thought we were to lose a few pounds.
This set us into a ferment.  The captain would not condescend to
explain, and we went aft in a body, with a Swede, the oldest and best
sailor of the crew, for spokesman.  The recollection of the scene that
followed always brings up a smile, especially the quarter-deck dignity
and eloquence of the captain.  He was walking the weather side of the
quarter-deck, and seeing us coming aft, stopped short in his walk, and,
with a voice and look intended to annihilate us, called out, "Well,
what do you want now?"  Whereupon we stated our grievances as
respectfully as we could, but he broke in upon us, saying that we were
getting fat and lazy, didn't have enough to do, and that made us find
fault.  This provoked us, and we began to give word for word. This
would never answer.  He clenched his fist, stamped and swore, and sent
us all forward, saying, with oaths enough interspersed to send the
words home,--"Away with you! go forward every one of you! I'll haze
you!  I'll work you up!  You don't have enough to do! You've mistaken
your man.  I'm F---- T----, all the way from 'down east.'  I've been
through the mill, ground, and bolted, and come out a regular-built
down-east johnny-cake, good when it's hot, but when it's cold, sour and
indigestible;--and you'll find me so!"  The latter part of the harangue
I remember well, for it made a strong impression, and the "down-east
johnny-cake" became a by-word for the rest of the voyage.  So much for
our petition for the redress of grievances. The matter was however set
right, for the mate, after allowing the captain due time to cool off,
explained it to him, and at night we were all called aft to hear
another harangue, in which, of course, the whole blame of the
misunderstanding was thrown upon us.  We ventured to hint that he would
not give us time to explain; but it wouldn't do. We were driven back
discomforted.  Thus the affair blew over, but the irritation caused by
it remained; and we never had peace or a good understanding again so
long as the captain and crew remained together.

We continued sailing along in the beautiful temperate climate of the
Pacific.  The Pacific well deserves its name, for except in the
southern part, at Cape Horn, and in the western parts, near the China
and Indian oceans, it has few storms, and is never either extremely hot
or cold.  Between the tropics there is a slight haziness, like a thin
gauze, drawn over the sun, which, without obstructing or obscuring the
light, tempers the heat which comes down with perpendicular fierceness
in the Atlantic and Indian tropics.  We sailed well to the westward to
have the full advantage of the north-east trades, and when we had
reached the latitude of Point Conception, where it is usual to make the
land, we were several hundred miles to the westward of it. We
immediately changed our course due east, and sailed in that direction
for a number of days.  At length we began to heave-to after dark, for
fear of making the land at night on a coast where there are no
light-houses and but indifferent charts, and at daybreak on the morning
of

Tuesday, Jan 13th, 1835, we made the land at Point Conception, lat 34º
32' N., long 120º 06' W.  The port of Santa Barbara, to which we were
bound, lying about sixty miles to the southward of this point, we
continued sailing down the coast during the day and following night,
and on the next morning,

Jan. 14th, 1835, we came to anchor in the spacious bay of Santa
Barbara, after a voyage of one hundred and fifty days from Boston.


[1] Haze is a word of frequent use on board ship, and never, I believe,
used elsewhere.  It is very expressive to a sailor, and means to punish
by hard work.  Let an officer once say, "I'll haze you," and your fate
is fixed.  You will be "worked up," if you are not a better man than he
is.




CHAPTER IX

CALIFORNIA--A SOUTH-EASTER

California extends along nearly the whole of the western coast of
Mexico, between the gulf of California in the south and the bay of Sir
Francis Drake on the north, or between the 22d and 38th degrees of
north latitude.  It is subdivided into two provinces--Lower or Old
California, lying between the gulf and the 32d degree of latitude, or
near it; (the division line running, I believe, between the bay of
Todos Santos and the port of San Diego;) and New or Upper California,
the southernmost port of which is San Diego, in lat. 32º 39', and the
northernmost, San Francisco, situated in the large bay discovered by
Sir Francis Drake, in lat. 37º 58', and called after him by the
English, though the Mexicans call it Yerba Buena.  Upper California has
the seat of its government at Monterey, where is also the custom-house,
the only one on the coast, and at which every vessel intending to trade
on the coast must enter its cargo before it can commence its traffic.
We were to trade upon this coast exclusively, and therefore expected to
go to Monterey at first; but the captain's orders from home were to put
in at Santa Barbara, which is the central port of the coast, and wait
there for the agent who lives there, and transacts all the business for
the firm to which our vessel belonged.

The bay, or, as it was commonly called, the canal of Santa Barbara, is
very large, being formed by the main land on one side, (between Point
Conception on the north and Point St. Buena Ventura on the south,)
which here bends in like a crescent, and three large islands opposite
to it and at the distance of twenty miles.  This is just sufficient to
give it the name of a bay, while at the same time it is so large and so
much exposed to the south-east and north-west winds, that it is little
better than an open roadstead; and the whole swell of the Pacific ocean
rolls in here before a SOUTH-EASTER, and breaks with so heavy a surf in
the shallow waters, that it is highly dangerous to lie near to the
shore during the SOUTH-EASTER season; that is, between the months of
November and April.

This wind (the SOUTH-EASTER) is the bane of the coast of California.
Between the months of November and April, (including a part of each,)
which is the rainy season in this latitude, you are never safe from it,
and accordingly, in the ports which are open to it, vessels are
obliged, during these months, to lie at anchor at a distance of three
miles from the shore, with slip-ropes on their cables, ready to slip
and go to sea at a moment's warning.  The only ports which are safe
from this wind are San Francisco and Monterey in the north, and San
Diego in the south.

As it was January when we arrived, and the middle of the SOUTH-EASTER
season, we accordingly came to anchor at the distance of three miles
from the shore, in eleven fathoms water, and bent a slip-rope and buoys
to our cables, cast off the yard-arm gaskets from the sails, and
stopped them all with rope-yarns.  After we had done this, the boat
went ashore with the captain, and returned with orders to the mate to
send a boat ashore for him at sundown.  I did not go in the first boat,
and was glad to find that there was another going before night; for
after so long a voyage as ours had been, a few hours is long to pass in
sight and out of reach of land.  We spent the day on board in the usual
avocations; but as this was the first time we had been without the
captain, we felt a little more freedom, and looked about us to see what
sort of a country we had got into, and were to spend a year or two of
our lives in.

In the first place, it was a beautiful day, and so warm that we had on
straw hats, duck trowsers, and all the summer gear; and as this was
mid-winter, it spoke well for the climate; and we afterwards found that
the thermometer never fell to the freezing-point throughout the winter,
and that there was very little difference between the seasons, except
that during a long period of rainy and south-easterly weather, thick
clothes were not uncomfortable.

The large bay lay about us, nearly smooth, as there was hardly a breath
of wind stirring, though the boat's crew who went ashore told us that
the long ground swell broke into a heavy surf upon the beach. There was
only one vessel in the port--a long, sharp brig of about 300 tons, with
raking masts and very square yards, and English colors at her peak.  We
afterwards learned that she was built at Guayaquil, and named the
Ayacucho, after the place where the battle was fought that gave Peru
her independence, and was now owned by a Scotchman named Wilson, who
commanded her, and was engaged in the trade between Callao, the
Sandwich Islands, and California.  She was a fast sailer, as we
frequently afterwards perceived, and had a crew of Sandwich Islanders
on board.  Beside this vessel there was no object to break the surface
of the bay.  Two points ran out as the horns of the crescent, one of
which--the one to the westward--was low and sandy, and is that to which
vessels are obliged to give a wide berth when running out for a
SOUTH-EASTER; the other is high, bold, and well wooded, and, we were
told, has a mission upon it, called St. Buenaventura, from which the
point is named.  In the middle of this crescent, directly opposite the
anchoring ground, lie the mission and town of Santa Barbara, on a low,
flat plain, but little above the level of the sea, covered with grass,
though entirely without trees, and surrounded on three sides by an
amphitheatre of mountains, which slant off to the distance of fifteen
or twenty miles.  The mission stands a little back of the town, and is
a large building, or rather a collection of buildings, in the centre of
which is a high tower, with a belfry of five bells; and the whole,
being plastered, makes quite a show at a distance, and is the mark by
which vessels come to anchor.  The town lies a little nearer to the
beach--about half a mile from it--and is composed of one-story houses
built of brown clay--some of them plastered--with red tiles on the
roofs.  I should judge that there were about an hundred of them; and in
the midst of them stands the Presidio, or fort, built of the same
materials, and apparently but little stronger.  The town is certainly
finely situated, with a bay in front, and an amphitheatre of hills
behind.  The only thing which diminishes its beauty is, that the hills
have no large trees upon them, they having been all burnt by a great
fire which swept them off about a dozen years before, and they had not
yet grown up again.  The fire was described to me by an inhabitant, as
having been a very terrible and magnificent sight. The air of the whole
valley was so heated that the people were obliged to leave the town and
take up their quarters for several days upon the beach.

Just before sun-down the mate ordered a boat's crew ashore, and I went
as one of the number.  We passed under the stern of the English brig,
and had a long pull ashore.  I shall never forget the impression which
our first landing on the beach of California made upon me. The sun had
just gone down; it was getting dusky; the damp night wind was beginning
to blow, and the heavy swell of the Pacific was setting in, and
breaking in loud and high "combers" upon the beach.  We lay on our oars
in the swell, just outside of the surf, waiting for a good chance to
run in, when a boat, which had put off from the Ayacucho just after us,
came alongside of us, with a crew of dusky Sandwich Islanders, talking
and halooing in their outlandish tongue.  They knew that we were
novices in this kind of boating, and waited to see us go in. The second
mate, however, who steered our boat, determined to have the advantage
of their experience, and would not go in first. Finding, at length, how
matters stood, they gave a shout, and taking advantage of a great
comber which came swelling in, rearing its head, and lifting up the
stern of our boat nearly perpendicular, and again dropping it in the
trough, they gave three or four long and strong pulls, and went in on
top of the great wave, throwing their oars overboard, and as far from
the boat as they could throw them, and jumping out the instant that the
boat touched the beach, and then seizing hold of her and running her up
high and dry upon the sand.  We saw, at once, how it was to be done,
and also the necessity of keeping the boat "stern on" to the sea; for
the instant the sea should strike upon her broad-side or quarter, she
would be driven up broad-side-on, and capsized.  We pulled strongly in,
and as soon as we felt that the sea had got hold of us and was carrying
us in with the speed of a race-horse, we threw the oars as far from the
boat as we could, and took hold of the gunwale, ready to spring out and
seize her when she struck, the officer using his utmost strength to
keep her stern on. We were shot up upon the beach like an arrow from a
bow, and seizing the boat, ran her up high and dry, and soon picked up
our oars, and stood by her, ready for the captain to come down.

Finding that the captain did not come immediately, we put our oars in
the boat, and leaving one to watch it, walked about the beach to see
what we could, of the place.  The beach is nearly a mile in length
between the two points, and of smooth sand.  We had taken the only good
landing-place, which is in the middle; it being more stony toward the
ends.  It is about twenty yards in width from high-water mark to a
slight bank at which the soil begins, and so hard that it is a favorite
place for running horses. It was growing dark, so that we could just
distinguish the dim outlines of the two vessels in the offing; and the
great seas were rolling in, in regular lines, growing larger and larger
as they approached the shore, and hanging over the beach upon which
they were to break, when their tops would curl over and turn white with
foam, and, beginning at one extreme of the line, break rapidly to the
other, as a long card-house falls when the children knock down the
cards at one end.  The Sandwich Islanders, in the mean time, had turned
their boat round, and ran her down into the water, and were loading her
with hides and tallow.  As this was the work in which we were soon to
be engaged, we looked on with some curiosity.  They ran the boat into
the water so far that every large sea might float her, and two of them,
with their trowsers rolled up, stood by the bows, one on each side,
keeping her in her right position.  This was hard work; for beside the
force they had to use upon the boat, the large seas nearly took them
off their legs.  The others were running from the boat to the bank,
upon which, out of the reach of the water, was a pile of dry bullocks'
hides, doubled lengthwise in the middle, and nearly as stiff as boards.
These they took upon their heads, one or two at a time, and carried
down to the boat, where one of their number stowed them away.  They
were obliged to carry them on their heads, to keep them out of the
water, and we observed that they had on thick woolen caps.  "Look here,
Bill, and see what you're coming to!" said one of our men to another
who stood by the boat.  "Well, D----," said the second mate to me,
"this does not look much like Cambridge college, does it?  This is what
I call 'head work.'"  To tell the truth, it did not look very
encouraging.

After they had got through with the hides, they laid hold of the bags
of tallow, (the bags are made of hide, and are about the size of a
common meal bag,) and lifting each upon the shoulders of two men, one
at each end, walked off with them to the boat, and prepared to go
aboard.  Here, too, was something for us to learn.  The man who
steered, shipped his oar and stood up in the stern, and those that
pulled the after oars sat upon their benches, with their oars shipped,
ready to strike out as soon as she was afloat.  The two men at the bows
kept their places; and when, at length, a large sea came in and floated
her, seized hold of the gunwale, and ran out with her till they were up
to their armpits, and then tumbled over the gunwale into the bows,
dripping with water.  The men at the oars struck out, but it wouldn't
do; the sea swept back and left them nearly high and dry.  The two
fellows jumped out again; and the next time they succeeded better, and,
with the help of a deal of outlandish hallooing and bawling, got her
well off. We watched them till they were out of the breakers, and saw
them steering for their vessel, which was now hidden in the darkness.

The sand of the beach began to be cold to our bare feet; the frogs set
up their croaking in the marshes, and one solitary owl, from the end of
the distant point, gave out his melancholy note, mellowed by the
distance, and we began to think that it was high time for "the old
man," as the captain is generally called, to come down. In a few
minutes we heard something coming towards us.  It was a man on
horseback.  He came up on the full gallop, reined up near us, addressed
a few words to us, and receiving no answer, wheeled around and galloped
off again.  He was nearly as dark as an Indian, with a large Spanish
hat, blanket cloak or surreppa, and leather leggins, with a long knife
stuck in them.  "This is the seventh city that ever I was in, and no
Christian one neither," said Bill Brown. "Stand by!" said Tom, "you
haven't seen the worst of it yet." In the midst of this conversation
the captain appeared; and we winded the boat round, shoved her down,
and prepared to go off. The captain, who had been on the coast before
and "knew the ropes," took the steering oar, and we went off in the
same way as the other boat. I, being the youngest, had the pleasure of
standing at the bow, and getting wet through.  We went off well, though
the seas were high. Some of them lifted us up, and sliding from under
us, seemed to let us drop through the air like a flat plank upon the
body of the water. In a few minutes we were in the low, regular swell,
and pulled for a light, which, as we came up, we found had been run up
to our trysail gaff.

Coming aboard, we hoisted up all the boats, and diving down into the
forecastle, changed our wet clothes, and got our supper. After supper
the sailors lighted their pipes, (cigars, those of us who had them,)
and we had to tell all we had seen ashore. Then followed conjectures
about the people ashore, the length of the voyage, carrying hides,
etc., until eight bells, when all hands were called aft, and the
"anchor watch" set.  We were to stand two in a watch, and as the nights
were pretty long, two hours were to make a watch.  The second mate was
to keep the deck until eight o'clock, and all hands were to be called
at daybreak, and the word was passed to keep a bright look-out, and to
call the mate if it should come on to blow from the south-east.  We had
also orders to strike the bells every half-hour through the night, as
at sea. My watchmate was John, the Swedish sailor, and we stood from
twelve to two, he walking the larboard side, and I the starboard. At
daylight all hands were called, and we went through the usual process
of washing down, swabbing, etc., and got breakfast at eight o'clock.
In the course of the forenoon, a boat went aboard of the Ayacucho and
brought off a quarter of beef, which made us a fresh bite for dinner.
This we were glad enough to have, and the mate told us that we should
live upon fresh beef while we were on the coast, as it was cheaper here
than the salt.  While at dinner, the cook called, "Sail ho!" and coming
on deck, we saw two sails coming round the point.  One was a large ship
under top-gallant sails, and the other a small hermaphrodite brig.
They both backed their topsails and sent boats aboard of us.  The
ship's colors had puzzled us, and we found that she was from Genoa,
with an assorted cargo, and was trading on the coast.  She filled away
again, and stood out; being bound up the coast to San Francisco.  The
crew of the brig's boat were Sandwich Islanders, but one of them, who
spoke a little English, told us that she was the Loriotte, Captain Nye,
from Oahu, and was engaged in this trade.  She was a lump of a
thing--what the sailors call a butter-box.  This vessel, as well as the
Ayacucho, and others which we afterwards saw engaged in the same trade,
have English or Americans for officers, and two or three before the
mast to do the work upon the rigging, and to rely upon for seamanship,
while the rest of the crew are Sandwich Islanders, who are active, and
very useful in boating.

The three captains went ashore after dinner, and came off again at
night.  When in port, everything is attended to by the chief mate; the
captain, unless he is also supercargo, has little to do, and is usually
ashore much of his time.  This we thought would be pleasanter for us,
as the mate was a good-natured man and not very strict. So it was for a
time, but we were worse off in the end; for wherever the captain is a
severe, energetic man, and the mate is wanting in both these qualities,
there will always be trouble.  And trouble we had already begun to
anticipate.  The captain had several times found fault with the mate,
in presence of the crew; and hints had been dropped that all was not
right between them.  When this is the case, and the captain suspects
that his officer is too easy and familiar with the crew, then he begins
to interfere in all the duties, and to draw the reins tauter, and the
crew have to suffer.




CHAPTER X

A SOUTH-EASTER--PASSAGE UP THE COAST

This night, after sundown, it looked black at the southward and
eastward, and we were told to keep a bright look-out.  Expecting to be
called up, we turned in early.  Waking up about midnight, I found a man
who had just come down from his watch, striking a light. He said that
it was beginning to puff up from the south-east, and that the sea was
rolling in, and he had called the captain; and as he threw himself down
on his chest with all his clothes on, I knew that he expected to be
called.  I felt the vessel pitching at her anchor, and the chain
surging and snapping, and lay awake, expecting an instant summons.  In
a few minutes it came--three knocks on the scuttle, and "All hands
ahoy! bear-a-hand up and make sail." We sprang up for our clothes, and
were about halfway dressed, when the mate called out, down the scuttle,
"Tumble up here, men! tumble up! before she drags her anchor."  We were
on deck in an instant. "Lay aloft and loose the topsails!" shouted the
captain, as soon as the first man showed himself.  Springing into the
rigging, I saw that the Ayacucho's topsails were loosed, and heard her
crew singing-out at the sheets as they were hauling them home.  This
had probably started our captain; as "old Wilson" (the captain of the
Ayacucho) had been many years on the coast, and knew the signs of the
weather. We soon had the topsails loosed; and one hand remaining, as
usual, in each top, to overhaul the rigging and light the sail out, the
rest of us laid down to man the sheets.  While sheeting home, we saw
the Ayacucho standing athwart our bows, sharp upon the wind, cutting
through the head sea like a knife, with her raking masts and sharp bows
running up like the head of a greyhound.  It was a beautiful sight.
She was like a bird which had been frightened and had spread her wings
in flight. After the topsails had been sheeted home, the head yards
braced aback, the fore-top-mast staysail hoisted, and the buoys
streamed, and all ready forward, for slipping, we went aft and manned
the slip-rope which came through the stern port with a turn round the
timber-heads. "All ready forward?" asked the captain.  "Aye, aye, sir;
all ready," answered the mate.  "Let go!"  "All gone, sir;" and the
iron cable grated over the windlass and through the hawse-hole, and the
little vessel's head swinging off from the wind under the force of her
backed head sails, brought the strain upon the slip-rope.  "Let go
aft!" Instantly all was gone, and we were under weigh.  As soon as she
was well off from the wind, we filled away the head yards, braced all
up sharp, set the foresail and trysail, and left our anchorage well
astern, giving the point a good berth.  "Nye's off too," said the
captain to the mate; and looking astern, we could just see the little
hermaphrodite brig under sail standing after us.

It now began to blow fresh; the rain fell fast, and it grew very black;
but the captain would not take in sail until we were well clear of the
point.  As soon as we left this on our quarter, and were standing out
to sea, the order was given, and we sprang aloft, double reefed each
topsail, furled the foresail, and double reefed the trysail, and were
soon under easy sail.  In those cases of slipping for south-easters,
there is nothing to be done, after you have got clear of the coast, but
to lie-to under easy sail, and wait for the gale to be over, which
seldom lasts more than two days, and is often over in twelve hours; but
the wind never comes back to the southward until there has been a good
deal of rain fallen. "Go below the watch," said the mate; but here was
a dispute which watch it should be, which the mate soon however settled
by sending his watch below, saying that we should have our turn the
next time we got under weigh.  We remained on deck till the expiration
of the watch, the wind blowing very fresh and the rain coming down in
torrents.  When the watch came up, we wore ship, and stood on the other
tack, in towards land.  When we came up again, which was at four in the
morning, it was very dark, and there was not much wind, but it was
raining as I thought I had never seen it rain before. We had on
oil-cloth suits and south-wester caps, and had nothing to do but to
stand bolt upright and let it pour down upon us.  There are no
umbrellas, and no sheds to go under, at sea.

While we were standing about on deck, we saw the little brig drifting
by us, hove to under her fore topsail double reefed; and she glided by
like a phantom.  Not a word was spoken, and we saw no one on deck but
the man at the wheel.  Toward morning the captain put his head out of
the companion-way and told the second mate, who commanded our watch, to
look out for a change of wind, which usually followed a calm and heavy
rain; and it was well that he did; for in a few minutes it fell dead
calm, the vessel lost her steerage-way, and the rain ceased.  We hauled
up the trysail and courses, squared the after yards, and waited for the
change, which came in a few minutes, with a vengeance, from the
north-west, the opposite point of the compass.  Owing to our
precautions, we were not taken aback, but ran before the wind with
square yards.  The captain coming on deck, we braced up a little and
stood back for our anchorage.  With the change of wind came a change of
weather, and in two hours the wind moderated into the light steady
breeze, which blows down the coast the greater part of the year, and,
from its regularity, might be called a trade-wind.  The sun came up
bright, and we set royals, skysails, and studding-sails, and were under
fair way for Santa Barbara. The little Loriotte was astern of us,
nearly out of sight; but we saw nothing of the Ayacucho.  In a short
time she appeared, standing out from Santa Rosa Island, under the lee
of which she had been hove to, all night.  Our captain was anxious to
get in before her, for it would be a great credit to us, on the coast,
to beat the Ayacucho, which had been called the best sailer in the
North Pacific, in which she had been known as a trader for six years or
more.  We had an advantage over her in light winds, from our royals and
skysails which we carried both at the fore and main, and also in our
studding-sails; for Captain Wilson carried nothing above
top-gallant-sails, and always unbent his studding-sails when on the
coast.  As the wind was light and fair, we held our own, for some time,
when we were both obliged to brace up and come upon a taut bowline,
after rounding the point; and here he had us on fair ground, and walked
away from us, as you would haul in a line.  He afterwards said that we
sailed well enough with the wind free, but that give him a taut
bowline, and he would beat us, if we had all the canvas of the Royal
George.

The Ayacucho got to the anchoring ground about half an hour before us,
and was furling her sails when we came up to it.  This picking up your
cables is a very nice piece of work.  It requires some seamanship to do
it, and come to at your former moorings, without letting go another
anchor.  Captain Wilson was remarkable, among the sailors on the coast,
for his skill in doing this; and our captain never let go a second
anchor during all the time that I was with him.  Coming a little to
windward of our buoy, we clewed up the light sails, backed our main
topsail, and lowered a boat, which pulled off, and made fast a spare
hawser to the buoy on the end of the slip-rope.  We brought the other
end to the captain, and hove in upon it until we came to the slip-rope,
which we took to the windlass, and walked her up to her chain, the
captain helping her by backing and filling the sails.  The chain is
then passed through the hawse-hole and round the windlass, and bitted,
the slip-rope taken round outside and brought into the stern port, and
she is safe in her old berth.  After we had got through, the mate told
us that this was a small touch of California, the like of which we must
expect to have through the winter.

After we had furled the sails and got dinner, we saw the Loriotte
nearing, and she had her anchor before night.  At sun-down we went
ashore again, and found the Loriotte's boat waiting on the beach. The
Sandwich Islander who could speak English, told us that he had been up
to the town; that our agent, Mr. R----, and some other passengers, were
going to Monterey with us, and that we were to sail the same night.  In
a few minutes Captain T----, with two gentlemen and one female, came
down, and we got ready to go off. They had a good deal of baggage,
which we put into the bows of the boat, and then two of us took the
senora in our arms, and waded with her through the water, and put her
down safely in the stern. She appeared much amused with the
transaction, and her husband was perfectly satisfied, thinking any
arrangement good which saved his wetting his feet.  I pulled the after
oar, so that I heard the conversation, and learned that one of the men,
who, as well as I could see in the darkness, was a young-looking man,
in the European dress, and covered up in a large cloak, was the agent
of the firm to which our vessel belonged; and the other, who was
dressed in the Spanish dress of the country, was a brother of our
captain, who had been many years a trader on the coast, and had married
the lady who was in the boat.  She was a delicate, dark-complexioned
young woman, and of one of the best families in California.  I also
found that we were to sail the same night.  As soon as we got on board,
the boats were hoisted up, the sails loosed, the windlass manned, the
slip-ropes and gear cast off; and after about twenty minutes of heaving
at the windlass, making sail, and bracing yards, we were well under
weigh, and going with a fair wind up the coast to Monterey. The
Loriotte got under weigh at the same time, and was also bound up to
Monterey, but as she took a different course from us, keeping the land
aboard, while we kept well out to sea, we soon lost sight of her. We
had a fair wind, which is something unusual when going up, as the
prevailing wind is the north, which blows directly down the coast;
whence the northern are called the windward, and the southern the
leeward ports.




CHAPTER XI

PASSAGE UP THE COAST--MONTEREY

We got clear of the islands before sunrise the next morning, and by
twelve o'clock were out of the canal, and off Point Conception, the
place where we first made the land upon our arrival.  This is the
largest point on the coast, and is uninhabited headland, stretching out
into the Pacific, and has the reputation of being very windy. Any
vessel does well which gets by it without a gale, especially in the
winter season.  We were going along with studding-sails set on both
sides, when, as we came round the point, we had to haul our wind, and
take in the lee studding-sails.  As the brig came more upon the wind,
she felt it more, and we doused the sky-sails, but kept the weather
studding-sails on her, bracing the yards forward so that the
swinging-boom nearly touched the sprit-sail yard.  She now lay over to
it, the wind was freshening, and the captain was evidently "dragging on
to her."  His brother and Mr. R----, looking a little squally, said
something to him, but he only answered that he knew the vessel and what
she would carry.  He was evidently showing off his vessel, and letting
them know how he could carry sail.  He stood up to windward, holding on
by the backstays, and looking up at the sticks, to see how much they
would bear; when a puff came which settled the matter.  Then it was
"haul down," and "clew up," royals, flying-jib, and studding-sails, all
at once.  There was what the sailors call a "mess"--everything let go,
nothing hauled in, and everything flying.  The poor Spanish woman came
to the companion-way, looking as pale as a ghost, and nearly frightened
to death.  The mate and some men forward were trying to haul in the
lower studding-sail, which had blown over the sprit-sail yard-arm and
round the guys; while the topmast-studding-sail boom, after buckling up
and springing out again like a piece of whalebone, broke off at the
boom-iron. I sprang aloft to take in the main top-gallant
studding-sail, but before I got into the top, the tack parted, and away
went the sail, swinging forward of the top-gallant-sail, and tearing
and slatting itself to pieces.  The halyards were at this moment let go
by the run; and such a piece of work I never had before, in taking in a
sail. After great exertions I got it, or the remains of it, into the
top, and was making it fast, when the captain, looking up, called out
to me, "Lay aloft there, D----, and furl that main royal." Leaving the
studding-sail, I went up to the cross trees; and here it looked rather
squally.  The foot of the top-gallant-mast was working between the
cross and trussel trees, and the royal-mast lay over at a fearful angle
with the mast below, while everything was working, and cracking,
strained to the utmost.

There's nothing for Jack to do but to obey orders, and I went up upon
the yard; and there was a worse "mess," if possible, than I had left
below.  The braces had been let go, and the yard was swinging about
like a turnpike-gate, and the whole sail having blown over to leeward,
the lee leach was over the yard-arm, and the sky-sail was all adrift
and flying over my head.  I looked down, but it was in vain to attempt
to make myself heard, for every one was busy below, and the wind
roared, and sails were flapping in every direction. Fortunately, it was
noon and broad daylight, and the man at the wheel, who had his eyes
aloft, soon saw my difficulty, and after numberless signs and gestures,
got some one to haul the necessary ropes taut. During this interval I
took a look below.  Everything was in confusion on deck; the little
vessel was tearing through the water as if she were mad, the seas
flying over her, and the masts leaning over at an angle of forty-five
degrees from the vertical.  At the other royal-mast-head was S----,
working away at the sail, which was blowing from him as fast as he
could gather it in.  The top-gallant-sail below me was soon clewed up,
which relieved the mast, and in a short time I got my sail furled, and
went below; but I lost overboard a new tarpaulin hat, which troubled me
more than anything else.  We worked for about half an hour with might
and main; and in an hour from the time the squall struck us, from
having all our flying kites abroad, we came down to double-reefed
top-sails and the storm-sails.

The wind had hauled ahead during the squall, and we were standing
directly in for the point.  So, as soon as we had got all snug, we wore
round and stood off again, and had the pleasant prospect of beating up
to Monterey, a distance of an hundred miles, against a violent head
wind.  Before night it began to rain; and we had five days of rainy,
stormy weather, under close sail all the time, and were blown several
hundred miles off the coast.  In the midst of this, we discovered that
our fore topmast was sprung, (which no doubt happened in the squall,)
and were obliged to send down the fore top-gallant-mast and carry as
little sail as possible forward. Our four passengers were dreadfully
sick, so that we saw little or nothing of them during the five days.
On the sixth day it cleared off, and the sun came out bright, but the
wind and sea were still very high. It was quite like being at sea
again: no land for hundreds of miles, and the captain taking the sun
every day at noon.  Our passengers now made their appearance, and I had
for the first time the opportunity of seeing what a miserable and
forlorn creature a sea-sick passenger is.  Since I had got over my own
sickness, the third day from Boston, I had seen nothing but hale,
hearty men, with their sea legs on, and able to go anywhere, (for we
had no passengers;) and I will own there was a pleasant feeling of
superiority in being able to walk the deck, and eat, and go about, and
comparing one's self with two poor, miserable, pale creatures,
staggering and shuffling about decks, or holding on and looking up with
giddy heads, to see us climbing to the mast-heads, or sitting quietly
at work on the ends of the lofty yards.  A well man at sea has little
sympathy with one who is seasick; he is too apt to be conscious of a
comparison favorable to his own manhood.  After a few days we made the
land at Point Pinos, (pines,) which is the headland at the entrance of
the bay of Monterey. As we drew in, and ran down the shore, we could
distinguish well the face of the country, and found it better wooded
than that to the southward of Point Conception.  In fact, as I
afterwards discovered, Point Conception may be made the dividing line
between two different faces of the country.  As you go to the northward
of the point, the country becomes more wooded, has a richer appearance,
and is better supplied with water.  This is the case with Monterey, and
still more so with San Francisco; while to the southward of the point,
as at Santa Barbara, San Pedro, and particularly San Diego, there is
very little wood, and the country has a naked, level appearance, though
it is still very fertile.

The bay of Monterey is very wide at the entrance, being about
twenty-four miles between the two points, Ano Nuevo at the north, and
Pinos at the south, but narrows gradually as you approach the town,
which is situated in a bend, or large cove, at the south-eastern
extremity, and about eighteen miles from the points, which makes the
whole depth of the bay.  The shores are extremely well wooded, (the
pine abounding upon them,) and as it was now the rainy season,
everything was as green as nature could make it,--the grass, the
leaves, and all; the birds were singing in the woods, and great numbers
of wild-fowl were flying over our heads.  Here we could lie safe from
the south-easters.  We came to anchor within two cable lengths of the
shore, and the town lay directly before us, making a very pretty
appearance; its houses being plastered, which gives a much better
effect than those of Santa Barbara, which are of a mud-color.  The red
tiles, too, on the roofs, contrasted well with the white plastered
sides and with the extreme greenness of the lawn upon which the
houses--about an hundred in number--were dotted about, here and there,
irregularly.  There are in this place, and in every other town which I
saw in California, no streets, or fences, (except here and there a
small patch was fenced in for a garden,) so that the houses are placed
at random upon the green, which, as they are of one story and of the
cottage form, gives them a pretty effect when seen from a little
distance.

It was a fine Saturday afternoon when we came to anchor, the sun about
an hour high, and everything looking pleasantly.  The Mexican flag was
flying from the little square Presidio, and the drums and trumpets of
the soldiers, who were out on parade, sounded over the water, and gave
great life to the scene.  Every one was delighted with the appearance
of things.  We felt as though we had got into a Christian (which in the
sailor's vocabulary means civilized) country. The first impression
which California had made upon us was very disagreeable:--the open
roadstead of Santa Barbara; anchoring three miles from the shore;
running out to sea before every SOUTH-EASTER; landing in a high surf;
with a little dark-looking town, a mile from the beach; and not a sound
to be heard, or anything to be seen, but Sandwich Islanders, hides, and
tallow-bags.  Add to this the gale off Point Conception, and no one can
be at a loss to account for our agreeable disappointment in Monterey.
Beside all this, we soon learned, which was of no small importance to
us, that there was little or no surf here, and this afternoon the beach
was as smooth as a duck-pond.

We landed the agent and passengers, and found several persons waiting
for them on the beach, among whom were some, who, though dressed in the
costume of the country, spoke English; and who, we afterwards learned,
were English and Americans who had married and settled in the country.

I also connected with our arrival here another circumstance which more
nearly concerns myself; viz, my first act of what the sailors will
allow to be seamanship--sending down a royal-yard.  I had seen it done
once or twice at sea, and an old sailor, whose favor I had taken some
pains to gain, had taught me carefully everything which was necessary
to be done, and in its proper order, and advised me to take the first
opportunity when we were in port, and try it. I told the second mate,
with whom I had been pretty thick when he was before the mast, that I
would do it, and got him to ask the mate to send me up the first time
they were struck.  Accordingly I was called upon, and went up,
repeating the operations over in my mind, taking care to get everything
in its order, for the slightest mistake spoils the whole.  Fortunately,
I got through without any word from the officer, and heard the "well
done" of the mate, when the yard reached the deck, with as much
satisfaction as I ever felt at Cambridge on seeing a "bene" at the foot
of a Latin exercise.




CHAPTER XII

LIFE AT MONTEREY

The next day being Sunday, which is the liberty-day among merchantmen,
when it is usual to let a part of the crew go ashore, the sailors had
depended upon a day on land, and were already disputing who should ask
to go, when, upon being called in the morning, we were turned-to upon
the rigging, and found that the topmast, which had been sprung, was to
come down, and a new one to go up, and top-gallant and royal-masts, and
the rigging to be set up.  This was too bad.  If there is anything that
irritates sailors and makes them feel hardly used, it is being deprived
of their Sabbath.  Not that they would always, or indeed generally,
spend it religiously, but it is their only day of rest.  Then, too,
they are often necessarily deprived of it by storms, and unavoidable
duties of all kinds, that to take it from them when lying quietly and
safely in port, without any urgent reason, bears the more hardly. The
only reason in this case was, that the captain had determined to have
the custom-house officers on board on Monday, and wished to have his
brig in order.  Jack is a slave aboard ship; but still he has many
opportunities of thwarting and balking his master.  When there is
danger, or necessity, or when he is well used, no one can work faster
than he; but the instant he feels that he is kept at work for nothing,
no sloth could make less headway.  He must not refuse his duty, or be
in any way disobedient, but all the work that an officer gets out of
him, he may be welcome to.  Every man who has been three months at sea
knows how to "work Tom Cox's traverse"--"three turns round the
long-boat, and a pull at the scuttled-butt." This morning everything
went in this way.  "Sogering" was the order of the day.  Send a man
below to get a block, and he would capsize everything before finding
it, then not bring it up till an officer had called him twice, and take
as much time to put things in order again.  Marline-spikes were not to
be found; knives wanted a prodigious deal of sharpening, and,
generally, three or four were waiting round the grindstone at a time.
When a man got to the mast-head, he would come slowly down again to get
something which he had forgotten; and after the tackles were got up,
six men would pull less than three who pulled "with a will."  When the
mate was out of sight, nothing was done.  It was all uphill work; and
at eight o'clock, when we went to breakfast, things were nearly where
they were when we began.

During our short meal, the matter was discussed.  One proposed refusing
to work; but that was mutiny, and of course was rejected at once.  I
remember, too, that one of the men quoted "Father Taylor," (as they
call the seamen's preacher at Boston,) who told them that if they were
ordered to work on Sunday, they must not refuse their duty, and the
blame would not come upon them.  After breakfast, it leaked out,
through the officers, that if we would get through our work soon, we
might have a boat in the afternoon and go fishing.  This bait was well
thrown, and took with several who were fond of fishing; and all began
to find that as we had one thing to do, and were not to be kept at work
for the day, the sooner we did it, the better.

Accordingly, things took a new aspect; and before two o'clock this
work, which was in a fair way to last two days, was done; and five of
us went a fishing in the jolly-boat, in the direction of Point Pinos;
but leave to go ashore was refused.  Here we saw the Loriotte, which
sailed with us from Santa Barbara, coming slowly in with a light
sea-breeze, which sets in towards afternoon, having been becalmed off
the point all the first part of the day.  We took several fish of
various kinds, among which cod and perch abounded, and F----, (the
ci-devant second mate,) who was of our number, brought up with his hook
a large and beautiful pearl-oyster shell.  We afterwards learned that
this place was celebrated for shells, and that a small schooner had
made a good voyage, by carrying a cargo of them to the United States.

We returned by sun-down, and found the Loriotte at anchor, within a
cable's length of the Pilgrim.  The next day we were "turned-to" early,
and began taking off the hatches, overhauling the cargo, and getting
everything ready for inspection.  At eight, the officers of the
customs, five in number, came on board, and began overhauling the
cargo, manifest, etc.

The Mexican revenue laws are very strict, and require the whole cargo
to be landed, examined, and taken on board again; but our agent, Mr.
R----, had succeeded in compounding with them for the two last vessels,
and saving the trouble of taking the cargo ashore. The officers were
dressed in the costume which we found prevailed through the country.  A
broad-brimmed hat, usually of a black or dark-brown color, with a gilt
or figured band round the crown, and lined inside with silk; a short
jacket of silk or figured calico, (the European skirted body-coat is
never worn;) the shirt open in the neck; rich waistcoat, if any;
pantaloons wide, straight, and long, usually of velvet, velveteen, or
broadcloth; or else short breeches and white stockings.  They wear the
deer-skin shoe, which is of a dark-brown color, and, (being made by
Indians,) usually a good deal ornamented.  They have no suspenders, but
always wear a sash round the waist, which is generally red, and varying
in quality with the means of the wearer.  Add to this the never-failing
cloak, and you have the dress of the Californian.  This last garment,
the cloak, is always a mark of the rank and wealth of the owner.  The
"gente de razon," or aristocracy, wear cloaks of black or dark blue
broadcloth, with as much velvet and trimmings as may be; and from this
they go down to the blanket of the Indian; the middle classes wearing
something like a large table-cloth, with a hole in the middle for the
head to go through. This is often as coarse as a blanket, but being
beautifully woven with various colors, is quite showy at a distance.
Among the Mexicans there is no working class; (the Indians being slaves
and doing all the hard work;) and every rich man looks like a grandee,
and every poor scamp like a broken-down gentleman.  I have often seen a
man with a fine figure, and courteous manners, dressed in broadcloth
and velvet, with a noble horse completely covered with trappings;
without a real in his pocket, and absolutely suffering for something to
eat.




CHAPTER XIII

TRADING--A BRITISH SAILOR

The next day, the cargo having been entered in due form, we began
trading.  The trade-room was fitted up in the steerage, and furnished
out with the lighter goods, and with specimens of the rest of the
cargo; and M----, a young man who came out from Boston with us, before
the mast, was taken out of the forecastle, and made supercargo's clerk.
He was well qualified for the business, having been clerk in a
counting-house in Boston.  He had been troubled for some time with the
rheumatism, which unfitted him for the wet and exposed duty of a sailor
on the coast.  For a week or ten days all was life on board. The people
came off to look and to buy--men, women, and children; and we were
continually going in the boats, carrying goods and passengers,--for
they have no boats of their own.  Everything must dress itself and come
aboard and see the new vessel, if it were only to buy a paper of pins.
The agent and his clerk managed the sales, while we were busy in the
hold or in the boats.  Our cargo was an assorted one; that is, it
consisted of everything under the sun. We had spirits of all kinds,
(sold by the cask,) teas, coffee, sugars, spices, raisins, molasses,
hardware, crockery-ware, tinware, cutlery, clothing of all kinds, boots
and shoes from Lynn, calicoes and cottons from Lowell, crepes, silks;
also shawls, scarfs, necklaces, jewelry, and combs for the ladies;
furniture; and in fact, everything that can be imagined, from Chinese
fire-works to English cart-wheels--of which we had a dozen pairs with
their iron rims on.

The Californians are an idle, thriftless people, and can make nothing
for themselves.  The country abounds in grapes, yet they buy bad wines
made in Boston and brought round by us, at an immense price, and retail
it among themselves at a real (121/2 cents) by the small wine-glass.
Their hides, too, which they value at two dollars in money, they give
for something which costs seventy-five cents in Boston; and buy shoes
(like as not, made of their own hides, and which have been carried
twice around Cape Horn) at three or four dollars, and "chicken-skin"
boots at fifteen dollars apiece. Things sell, on an average, at an
advance of nearly three hundred per cent upon the Boston prices.  This
is partly owing to the heavy duties which the government, in their
wisdom, with the intent, no doubt, of keeping the silver in the
country, has laid upon imports. These duties, and the enormous expenses
of so long a voyage, keep all merchants, but those of heavy capital,
from engaging in the trade.  Nearly two-thirds of all the articles
imported into the country from round Cape Horn, for the last six years,
have been by the single house of Bryant, Sturgis & Co., to whom our
vessel belonged, and who have a permanent agent on the coast.

This kind of business was new to us, and we liked it very well for a
few days, though we were hard at work every minute from daylight to
dark; and sometimes even later.

By being thus continually engaged in transporting passengers with their
goods, to and fro, we gained considerable knowledge of the character,
dress, and language of the people.  The dress of the men was as I have
before described it.  The women wore gowns of various texture--silks,
crape, calicoes, etc.,--made after the European style, except that the
sleeves were short, leaving the arm bare, and that they were loose
about the waist, having no corsets. They wore shoes of kid, or satin;
sashes or belts of bright colors; and almost always a necklace and
ear-rings.  Bonnets they had none. I only saw one on the coast, and
that belonged to the wife of an American sea-captain who had settled in
San Diego, and had imported the chaotic mass of straw and ribbon, as a
choice present to his new wife.  They wear their hair (which is almost
invariably black, or a very dark brown) long in their necks, sometimes
loose, and sometimes in long braids; though the married women often do
it up on a high comb.  Their only protection against the sun and
weather is a large mantle which they put over their heads, drawing it
close round their faces, when they go out of doors, which is generally
only in pleasant weather.  When in the house, or sitting out in front
of it, which they often do in fine weather, they usually wear a small
scarf or neckerchief of a rich pattern. A band, also, about the top of
the head, with a cross, star, or other ornament in front, is common.
Their complexions are various, depending--as well as their dress and
manner--upon their rank; or, in other words, upon the amount of Spanish
blood they can lay claim to. Those who are of pure Spanish blood,
having never intermarried with the aborigines, have clear brunette
complexions, and sometimes, even as fair as those of English women.
There are but few of these families in California; being mostly those
in official stations, or who, on the expiration of their offices, have
settled here upon property which they have acquired; and others who
have been banished for state offences. These form the aristocracy;
inter-marrying, and keeping up an exclusive system in every respect.
They can be told by their complexions, dress, manner, and also by their
speech; for, calling themselves Castilians, they are very ambitious of
speaking the pure Castilian language, which is spoken in a somewhat
corrupted dialect by the lower classes.  From this upper class, they go
down by regular shades, growing more and more dark and muddy, until you
come to the pure Indian, who runs about with nothing upon him but a
small piece of cloth, kept up by a wide leather strap drawn round his
waist. Generally speaking, each person's caste is decided by the
quality of the blood, which shows itself, too plainly to be concealed,
at first sight.  Yet the least drop of Spanish blood, if it be only of
quadroon or octoroon, is sufficient to raise them from the rank of
slaves, and entitle them to a suit of clothes--boots, hat, cloak,
spurs, long knife, and all complete, though coarse and dirty as may
be,--and to call themselves Espanolos, and to hold property, if they
can get any.

The fondness for dress among the women is excessive, and is often the
ruin of many of them.  A present of a fine mantle, or of a necklace or
pair of ear-rings, gains the favor of the greater part of them.
Nothing is more common than to see a woman living in a house of only
two rooms, and the ground for a floor, dressed in spangled satin shoes,
silk gown, high comb, and gilt, if not gold, ear-rings and necklace.
If their husbands do not dress them well enough, they will soon receive
presents from others.  They used to spend whole days on board our
vessels, examining the fine clothes and ornaments, and frequently made
purchases at a rate which would have made a seamstress or waiting-maid
in Boston open her eyes.

Next to the love of dress, I was most struck with the fineness of the
voices and beauty of the intonations of both sexes.  Every common
ruffian-looking fellow, with a slouched hat, blanket cloak, dirty
under-dress, and soiled leather leggins, appeared to me to be speaking
elegant Spanish.  It was a pleasure, simply to listen to the sound of
the language, before I could attach any meaning to it. They have a good
deal of the Creole drawl, but it is varied with an occasional extreme
rapidity of utterance, in which they seem to skip from consonant to
consonant, until, lighting upon a broad, open vowel, they rest upon
that to restore the balance of sound.  The women carry this peculiarity
of speaking to a much greater extreme than the men, who have more
evenness and stateliness of utterance. A common bullock-driver, on
horseback, delivering a message, seemed to speak like an ambassador at
an audience.  In fact, they sometimes appeared to me to be a people on
whom a curse had fallen, and stripped them of everything but their
pride, their manners, and their voices.

Another thing that surprised me was the quantity of silver that was in
circulation.  I certainly never saw so much silver at one time in my
life, as during the week that we were at Monterey. The truth is, they
have no credit system, no banks, and no way of investing money but in
cattle.  They have no circulating medium but silver and hides--which
the sailors call "California bank notes." Everything that they buy they
must pay for in one or the other of these things.  The hides they bring
down dried and doubled, in clumsy ox-carts, or upon mules' backs, and
the money they carry tied up in a handkerchief;--fifty, eighty, or an
hundred dollars and half dollars.

I had never studied Spanish while at college, and could not speak a
word, when at Juan Fernandez; but during the latter part of the passage
out, I borrowed a grammar and dictionary from the cabin, and by a
continual use of these, and a careful attention to every word that I
heard spoken, I soon got a vocabulary together, and began talking for
myself.  As I soon knew more Spanish than any of the crew, (who indeed
knew none at all,) and had been at college and knew Latin, I got the
name of a great linguist, and was always sent for by the captain and
officers to get provisions, or to carry letters and messages to
different parts of the town.  I was often sent to get something which I
could not tell the name of to save my life; but I liked the business,
and accordingly never pleaded ignorance. Sometimes I managed to jump
below and take a look at my dictionary before going ashore; or else I
overhauled some English resident on my way, and got the word from him;
and then, by signs, and the help of my Latin and French, contrived to
get along.  This was a good exercise for me, and no doubt taught me
more than I should have learned by months of study and reading; it also
gave me opportunities of seeing the customs, characters, and domestic
arrangements of the people; beside being a great relief from the
monotony of a day spent on board ship.

Monterey, as far as my observation goes, is decidedly the pleasantest
and most civilized-looking place in California.  In the centre of it is
an open square, surrounded by four lines of one-story plastered
buildings, with half a dozen cannon in the centre; some mounted, and
others not.  This is the "Presidio," or fort.  Every town has a
presidio in its centre; or rather, every presidio has a town built
around it; for the forts were first built by the Mexican government,
and then the people built near them for protection.  The presidio here
was entirely open and unfortified.  There were several officers with
long titles, and about eighty soldiers, but they were poorly paid, fed,
clothed, and disciplined.  The governor-general, or, as he is commonly
called, the "general," lives here; which makes it the seat of
government.  He is appointed by the central government at Mexico, and
is the chief civil and military officer.  In addition to him, each town
has a commandant, who is the chief military officer, and has charge of
the fort, and of all transactions with foreigners and foreign vessels;
and two or three alcaldes and corregidores, elected by the inhabitants,
who are the civil officers.  Courts and jurisprudence they have no
knowledge of.  Small municipal matters are regulated by the alcaldes
and corregidores; and everything relating to the general government, to
the military, and to foreigners, by the commandants, acting under the
governor-general.  Capital cases are decided by him, upon personal
inspection, if he is near; or upon minutes sent by the proper officers,
if the offender is at a distant place.  No Protestant has any civil
rights, nor can he hold any property, or, indeed, remain more than a
few weeks on shore, unless he belong to some vessel.  Consequently, the
Americans and English who intend to remain here become Catholics, to a
man; the current phrase among them being,--"A man must leave his
conscience at Cape Horn."

But to return to Monterey.  The houses here, as everywhere else in
California, are of one story, built of clay made into large bricks,
about a foot and a half square and three or four inches thick, and
hardened in the sun.  These are cemented together by mortar of the same
material, and the whole are of a common dirt-color.  The floors are
generally of earth, the windows grated and without glass; and the
doors, which are seldom shut, open directly into the common room; there
being no entries.  Some of the more wealthy inhabitants have glass to
their windows and board floors; and in Monterey nearly all the houses
are plastered on the outside.  The better houses, too, have red tiles
upon the roofs.  The common ones have two or three rooms which open
into each other, and are furnished with a bed or two, a few chairs and
tables, a looking-glass, a crucifix of some material or other, and
small daubs of paintings enclosed in glass, and representing some
miracle or martyrdom.  They have no chimneys or fire-places in the
houses, the climate being such as to make a fire unnecessary; and all
their cooking is done in a small cook-house, separated from the house.
The Indians, as I have said before, do all the hard work, two or three
being attached to each house; and the poorest persons are able to keep
one, at least, for they have only to feed them and give them a small
piece of coarse cloth and a belt, for the males; and a coarse gown,
without shoes or stockings, for the females.

In Monterey there are a number of English and Americans (English or
"Ingles" all are called who speak the English language) who have
married Californians, become united to the Catholic church, and
acquired considerable property.  Having more industry, frugality, and
enterprise than the natives, they soon get nearly all the trade into
their hands.  They usually keep shops, in which they retail the goods
purchased in larger quantities from our vessels, and also send a good
deal into the interior, taking hides in pay, which they again barter
with our vessels.  In every town on the coast there are foreigners
engaged in this kind of trade, while I recollect but two shops kept by
natives.  The people are generally suspicious of foreigners, and they
would not be allowed to remain, were it not that they become good
Catholics, and by marrying natives, and bringing up their children as
Catholics and Mexicans, and not teaching them the English language,
they quiet suspicion, and even become popular and leading men.  The
chief alcaldes in Monterey and Santa Barbara were both Yankees by birth.

The men in Monterey appeared to me to be always on horseback. Horses
are as abundant here as dogs and chickens were in Juan Fernandez. There
are no stables to keep them in, but they are allowed to run wild and
graze wherever they please, being branded, and having long leather
ropes, called "lassos," attached to their necks and dragging along
behind them, by which they can be easily taken.  The men usually catch
one in the morning, throw a saddle and bridle upon him, and use him for
the day, and let him go at night, catching another the next day.  When
they go on long journeys, they ride one horse down, and catch another,
throw the saddle and bridle upon him, and after riding him down, take a
third, and so on to the end of the journey.  There are probably no
better riders in the world.  They get upon a horse when only four or
five years old, their little legs not long enough to come half way over
his sides; and may almost be said to keep on him until they have grown
to him.  The stirrups are covered or boxed up in front, to prevent
their catching when riding through the woods; and the saddles are large
and heavy, strapped very tight upon the horse, and have large pommels,
or loggerheads, in front, round which the "lasso" is coiled when not in
use.  They can hardly go from one house to another without getting on a
horse, there being generally several standing tied to the door-posts of
the little cottages.  When they wish to show their activity, they make
no use of their stirrups in mounting, but striking the horse, spring
into the saddle as he starts, and sticking their long spurs into him,
go off on the full run.  Their spurs are cruel things, having four or
five rowels, each an inch in length, dull and rusty.  The flanks of the
horses are often sore from them, and I have seen men come in from
chasing bullocks with their horses' hind legs and quarters covered with
blood.  They frequently give exhibitions of their horsemanship, in
races, bull-baitings, etc.; but as we were not ashore during any
holyday, we saw nothing of it.  Monterey is also a great place for
cock-fighting, gambling of all sorts, fandangos, and every kind of
amusement and knavery.  Trappers and hunters, who occasionally arrive
here from over the Rocky mountains, with their valuable skins and furs,
are often entertained with every sort of amusement and dissipation,
until they have wasted their time and their money, and go back,
stripped of everything.

Nothing but the character of the people prevents Monterey from becoming
a great town.  The soil is as rich as man could wish; climate as good
as any in the world; water abundant, and situation extremely beautiful.
The harbor, too, is a good one, being subject only to one bad wind, the
north; and though the holding-ground is not the best, yet I heard of
but one vessel's being driven ashore here.  That was a Mexican brig,
which went ashore a few months before our arrival, and was a total
wreck, all the crew but one being drowned.  Yet this was from the
carelessness or ignorance of the captain, who paid out all his small
cable before he let go his other anchor.  The ship Lagoda, of Boston,
was there at the time, and rode out the gale in safety, without
dragging at all, or finding it necessary to strike her top-gallant
masts.

The only vessel in port with us was the little Loriotte.  I frequently
went on board her, and became very well acquainted with her Sandwich
Island crew.  One of them could speak a little English, and from him I
learned a good deal about them.  They were well formed and active, with
black eyes, intelligent countenances, dark-olive, or, I should rather
say, copper complexions and coarse black hair, but not woolly like the
<DW64>s.  They appeared to be talking continually.  In the forecastle
there was a complete Babel. Their language is extremely guttural, and
not pleasant at first, but improves as you hear it more, and is said to
have great capacity. They use a good deal of gesticulation, and are
exceedingly animated, saying with their might what their tongues find
to say.  They are complete water-dogs, therefore very good in boating.
It is for this reason that there are so many of them on the coast of
California; they being very good hands in the surf.  They are also
quick and active in the rigging, and good hands in warm weather; but
those who have been with them round Cape Horn, and in high latitudes,
say that they are useless in cold weather.  In their dress they are
precisely like our sailors.  In addition to these Islanders, the vessel
had two English sailors, who acted as boatswains over the Islanders,
and took care of the rigging.  One of them I shall always remember as
the best specimen of the thoroughbred English sailor that I ever saw.
He had been to sea from a boy, having served a regular apprenticeship
of seven years, as all English sailors are obliged to do, and was then
about four or five and twenty.  He was tall; but you only perceived it
when he was standing by the side of others, for the great breadth of
his shoulders and chest made him appear but little above the middle
height.  His chest was as deep as it was wide; his arm like that of
Hercules; and his hand "the fist of a tar--every hair a rope-yarn."
With all this he had one of the pleasantest smiles I ever saw.  His
cheeks were of a handsome brown; his teeth brilliantly white; and his
hair, of a raven black, waved in loose curls all over his head, and
fine, open forehead; and his eyes he might have sold to a duchess at
the price of diamonds, for their brilliancy.  As for their color, they
were like the Irishman's pig, which would not stay to be counted, every
change of position and light seemed to give them a new hue; but their
prevailing color was black, or nearly so.  Take him with his
well-varnished black tarpaulin stuck upon the back of his head; his
long locks coming down almost into his eyes; his white duck trowsers
and shirt; blue jacket; and black kerchief, tied loosely round his
neck; and he was a fine specimen of manly beauty.  On his broad chest
he had stamped with India ink "Parting moments;"--a ship ready to sail;
a boat on the beach; and a girl and her sailor lover taking their
farewell. Underneath were printed the initials of his own name, and two
other letters, standing for some name which he knew better than I did.
This was very well done, having been executed by a man who made it his
business to print with India ink, for sailors, at Havre. On one of his
broad arms, he had the crucifixion, and on the other the sign of the
"foul anchor."

He was very fond of reading, and we lent him most of the books which we
had in the forecastle, which he read and returned to us the next time
we fell in with him.  He had a good deal of information, and his
captain said he was a perfect seaman, and worth his weight in gold on
board a vessel, in fair weather and in foul.  His strength must have
been great, and he had the sight of a vulture.  It is strange that one
should be so minute in the description of an unknown, outcast sailor,
whom one may never see again, and whom no one may care to hear about;
but so it is. Some people we see under no remarkable circumstances, but
whom, for some reason or other, we never forget.  He called himself
Bill Jackson; and I know no one of all my accidental acquaintances to
whom I would more gladly give a shake of the hand than to him. Whoever
falls in with him will find a handsome, hearty fellow, and a good
shipmate.

Sunday came again while we were at Monterey, but as before, it brought
us no holyday.  The people on shore dressed themselves and came off in
greater numbers than ever, and we were employed all day in boating and
breaking out cargo, so that we had hardly time to eat.  Our cidevant
second mate, who was determined to get liberty if it was to be had,
dressed himself in a long coat and black hat, and polished his shoes,
and went aft and asked to go ashore.  He could not have done a more
imprudent thing; for he knew that no liberty would be given; and
besides, sailors, however sure they may be of having liberty granted
them always go aft in their working clothes, to appear as though they
had no reason to expect anything, and then wash, dress, and shave,
after they get their liberty.  But this poor fellow was always getting
into hot water, and if there was a wrong way of doing a thing, was sure
to hit upon it. We looked to see him go aft, knowing pretty well what
his reception would be.  The captain was walking the quarter-deck,
smoking his morning cigar, and F---- went as far as the break of the
deck, and there waited for him to notice him.  The captain took two or
three turns, and then walking directly up to him, surveyed him from
head to foot, and lifting up his forefinger, said a word or two, in a
tone too low for us to hear, but which had a magical effect upon poor
F----. He walked forward, sprang into the forecastle, and in a moment
more made his appearance in his common clothes, and went quietly to
work again. What the captain said to him, we never could get him to
tell, but it certainly changed him outwardly and inwardly in a most
surprising manner.




CHAPTER XIV

SANTA BARBARA--HIDE-DROGHING--HARBOR DUTIES--DISCONTENT--SAN PEDRO

After a few days, finding the trade beginning to slacken, we hove our
anchor up, set our topsails, ran the stars and stripes up to the peak,
fired a gun, which was returned from the Presidio, and left the little
town astern, running out of the bay, and bearing down the coast again,
for Santa Barbara.  As we were now going to leeward, we had a fair wind
and a plenty of it.  After doubling Point Pinos, we bore up, set
studding-sails alow and aloft, and were walking off at the rate of
eight or nine knots, promising to traverse in twenty-four hours the
distance which we were nearly three weeks in traversing on the passage
up.  We passed Point Conception at a flying rate, the wind blowing so
that it would have seemed half a gale to us, if we had been going the
other way and close hauled.  As we drew near the islands off Santa
Barbara, it died away a little but we came-to at our old
anchoring-ground in less than thirty hours from the time of leaving
Monterey.

Here everything was pretty much as we left it--the large bay without a
vessel in it; the surf roaring and rolling in upon the beach; the white
mission; the dark town and the high, treeless mountains. Here, too, we
had our SOUTH-EASTER tacks aboard again,--slip-ropes, buoy-ropes, sails
furled with reefs in them, and rope-yarns for gaskets. We lay here
about a fortnight, employed in landing goods and taking off hides,
occasionally, when the surf was not high; but there did not appear to
be one-half the business doing here that there was in Monterey.  In
fact, so far as we were concerned, the town might almost as well have
been in the middle of the Cordilleras.  We lay at a distance of three
miles from the beach, and the town was nearly a mile farther; so that
we saw little or nothing of it.  Occasionally we landed a few goods,
which were taken away by Indians in large, clumsy ox-carts, with the
yoke on the ox's neck instead of under it, and with small solid wheels.
A few hides were brought down, which we carried off in the California
style.  This we had now got pretty well accustomed to; and hardened to
also; for it does require a little hardening even to the toughest.

The hides are always brought down dry, or they would not be received.
When they are taken from the animal, they have holes cut in the ends,
and are staked out, and thus dried in the sun without shrinking. They
are then doubled once, lengthwise, with the hair side usually in, and
sent down, upon mules or in carts, and piled above highwater mark; and
then we rake them upon our heads, one at a time, or two, if they are
small, and wade out with them and throw them into the boat, which as
there are no wharves, we are usually kept anchored by a small kedge, or
keelek, just outside of the surf.  We all provided ourselves with thick
Scotch caps, which would be soft to the head, and at the same time
protect it; for we soon found that however it might look or feel at
first the "head-work" was the only system for California.  For besides
that the seas, breaking high, often obliged us to carry the hides so,
in order to keep them dry, we found that, as they were very large and
heavy, and nearly as stiff as boards, it was the only way that we could
carry them with any convenience to ourselves.  Some of the crew tried
other expedients, saying that they looked too much like West India
<DW64>s; but they all came to it at last.  The great art is in getting
them on the head.  We had to take them from the ground, and as they
were often very heavy, and as wide as the arms could stretch and easily
taken by the wind, we used to have some trouble with them.  I have
often been laughed at myself, and joined in laughing at others,
pitching themselves down in the sand, trying to swing a large hide upon
their heads, or nearly blown over with one in a little gust of wind.
The captain made it harder for us, by telling us that it was
"California fashion" to carry two on the head at a time; and as he
insisted upon it, and we did not wish to be outdone by other vessels,
we carried two for the first few months; but after falling in with a
few other "hide-droghers," and finding that they carried only one at a
time we "knocked off" the extra one, and thus made our duty somewhat
easier.

After we had got our heads used to the weight, and had learned the true
California style of tossing a hide, we could carry off two or three
hundred in a short time, without much trouble; but it was always wet
work, and, if the beach was stony, bad for our feet; for we, of course,
always went barefooted on this duty, as no shoes could stand such
constant wetting with salt water.  Then, too, we had a long pull of
three miles, with a loaded boat, which often took a couple of hours.

We had now got well settled down into our harbor duties, which, as they
are a good deal different from those at sea, it may be well enough to
describe.  In the first place, all hands are called at daylight, or
rather--especially if the days are short--before daylight, as soon as
the first grey of the morning.  The cook makes his fire in the galley;
the steward goes about his work in the cabin; and the crew rig the head
pump, and wash down the decks.  The chief mate is always on deck, but
takes no active part, all the duty coming upon the second mate, who has
to roll up his trowsers and paddle about decks barefooted, like the
rest of the crew.  The washing, swabbing, squilgeeing, etc., lasts, or
is made to last, until eight o'clock, when breakfast is ordered, fore
and aft.  After breakfast, for which half an hour is allowed, the boats
are lowered down, and made fast astern, or out to the swinging booms,
by ges-warps, and the crew are turned-to upon their day's work.  This
is various, and its character depends upon circumstances.  There is
always more or less of boating, in small boats; and if heavy goods are
to be taken ashore, or hides are brought down to the beach for us, then
all hands are sent ashore with an officer in the long boat. Then there
is always a good deal to be done in the hold: goods to be broken out;
and cargo to be shifted, to make room for hides, or to keep the trim of
the vessel.  In addition to this, the usual work upon the rigging must
be done.  There is a good deal of the latter kind of work which can
only be done when the vessel is in port;--and then everything must be
kept taut and in good order; spun-yarn made; chafing gear repaired;
and all the other ordinary work.  The great difference between sea and
harbor duty is in the division of time.  Instead of having a watch on
deck and a watch below, as at sea, all hands are at work together,
except at meal times, from daylight till dark; and at night an
"anchor-watch" is kept, which consists of only two at a time; the whole
crew taking turns.  An hour is allowed for dinner, and at dark, the
decks are cleared up; the boats hoisted; supper ordered; and at eight,
the lights put out, except in the binnacle, where the glass stands; and
the anchor-watch is set.  Thus, when at anchor, the crew have more time
at night, (standing watch only about two hours,) but have no time to
themselves in the day; so that reading, mending clothes, etc., has to
be put off until Sunday, which is usually given. Some religious
captains give their crews Saturday afternoons to do their washing and
mending in, so that they may have their Sundays free.  This is a good
arrangement, and does much toward creating the preference sailors
usually show for religious vessels. We were well satisfied if we got
Sunday to ourselves, for, if any hides came down on that day, as was
often the case when they were brought from a distance, we were obliged
to bring them off, which usually took half a day; and as we now lived
on fresh beef, and ate one bullock a week, the animal was almost always
brought down on Sunday, and we had to go ashore, kill it, dress it, and
bring it aboard, which was another interruption.   Then, too, our
common day's work was protracted and made more fatiguing by hides
coming down late in the afternoon, which sometimes kept us at work in
the surf by star-light, with the prospect of pulling on board, and
stowing them all away, before supper.

But all these little vexations and labors would have been
nothing,--they would have been passed by as the common evils of a
sea-life, which every sailor, who is a man, will go through without
complaint,--were it not for the uncertainty, or worse than uncertainty,
which hung over the nature and length of our voyage.  Here we were, in
a little vessel, with a small crew, on a half-civilized coast, at the
ends of the earth, and with a prospect of remaining an indefinite
period, two or three years at the least.  When we left Boston we
supposed that it was to be a voyage of eighteen months, or two years,
at most; but upon arriving on the coast, we learned something more of
the trade, and found that in the scarcity of hides, which was yearly
greater and greater, it would take us a year, at least, to collect our
own cargo, beside the passage out and home; and that we were also to
collect a cargo for a large ship belonging to the same firm, which was
soon to come on the coast, and to which we were to act as tender.  We
had heard rumors of such a ship to follow us, which had leaked out from
the captain and mate, but we passed them by as mere "yarns," till our
arrival, when they were confirmed by the letters which we brought from
the owners to their agent.  The ship California, belonging to the same
firm, had been nearly two years on the coast; had collected a full
cargo, and was now at San Diego, from which port she was expected to
sail in a few weeks for Boston; and we were to collect all the hides we
could, and deposit them at San Diego, when the new ship, which would
carry forty thousand, was to be filled and sent home; and then we were
to begin anew, and collect our own cargo. Here was a gloomy prospect
before us, indeed.  The California had been twenty months on the coast,
and the Lagoda, a smaller ship, carrying only thirty-one or thirty-two
thousand, had been two years getting her cargo; and we were to collect
a cargo of forty thousand beside our own, which would be twelve or
fifteen thousand; and hides were said to be growing scarcer.  Then,
too, this ship, which had been to us a worse phantom than any flying
Dutchman, was no phantom, or ideal thing, but had been reduced to a
certainty; so much so that a name was given her, and it was said that
she was to be the Alert, a well-known India-man, which was expected in
Boston in a few months, when we sailed.  There could be no doubt, and
all looked black enough. Hints were thrown out about three years and
four years;--the older sailors said they never should see Boston again,
but should lay their bones in California; and a cloud seemed to hang
over the whole voyage. Besides, we were not provided for so long a
voyage, and clothes, and all sailors' necessaries, were excessively
dear--three or four hundred per cent. advance upon the Boston prices.
This was bad enough for them; but still worse was it for me, who did
not mean to be a sailor for life; having intended only to be gone
eighteen months or two years.  Three or four years would make me a
sailor in every respect, mind and habits, as well as body--nolens
volens; and would put all my companions so far ahead of me that college
and a profession would be in vain to think of; and I made up my mind
that, feel as I might, a sailor I must be, and to be master of a
vessel, must be the height of my ambition.

Beside the length of the voyage, and the hard and exposed life, we were
at the ends of the earth; on a coast almost solitary; in a country
where there is neither law nor gospel, and where sailors are at their
captain's mercy, there being no American consul, or any one to whom a
complaint could be made.  We lost all interest in the voyage; cared
nothing about the cargo, which we were only collecting for others;
began to patch our clothes; and felt as though we were fixed beyond all
hope of change.

In addition to, and perhaps partly as a consequence of, this state of
things, there was trouble brewing on board the vessel.  Our mate (as
the first mate is always called, par excellence) was a worthy man;--a
more honest, upright, and kind-hearted man I never saw; but he was too
good for the mate of a merchantman.  He was not the man to call a
sailor a "son of a b---h," and knock him down with a handspike.  He
wanted the energy and spirit for such a voyage as ours, and for such a
captain.  Captain T---- was a vigorous, energetic fellow.  As sailors
say, "he hadn't a lazy bone in him."  He was made of steel and
whalebone.  He was a man to "toe the mark," and to make every one else
step up to it.  During all the time that I was with him, I never saw
him sit down on deck.  He was always active and driving; severe in his
discipline, and expected the same of his officers.  The mate not being
enough of a driver for him, and being perhaps too easy with the crew,
he was dissatisfied with him, became suspicious that discipline was
getting relaxed, and began to interfere in everything.  He drew the
reins tauter; and as, in all quarrels between officers, the sailors
side with the one who treats them best, he became suspicious of the
crew.  He saw that everything went wrong--that nothing was done "with a
will;" and in his attempt to remedy the difficulty by severity, he made
everything worse.  We were in every respect unfortunately situated.
Captain, officers, and crew, entirely unfitted for one another; and
every circumstance and event was like a two-edged sword, and cut both
ways.  The length of the voyage, which made us dissatisfied, made the
captain, at the same time, feel the necessity of order and strict
discipline; and the nature of the country, which caused us to feel that
we had nowhere to go for redress, but were entirely at the mercy of a
hard master, made the captain feel, on the other hand, that he must
depend entirely upon his own resources.  Severity created discontent,
and signs of discontent provoked severity.  Then, too, ill-treatment
and dissatisfaction are no "linimenta laborum;" and many a time have I
heard the sailors say that they should not mind the length of the
voyage, and the hardships, if they were only kindly treated, and if
they could feel that something was done to make things lighter and
easier.  We felt as though our situation was a call upon our superiors
to give us occasional relaxations, and to make our yoke easier.  But
the contrary policy was pursued. We were kept at work all day when in
port; which, together with a watch at night, made us glad to turn-in as
soon as we got below. Thus we got no time for reading, or--which was of
more importance to us--for washing and mending our clothes.  And then,
when we were at sea, sailing from port to port, instead of giving us
"watch and watch," as was the custom on board every other vessel on the
coast, we were all kept on deck and at work, rain or shine, making
spun-yarn and rope, and at other work in good weather, and picking
oakum, when it was too wet for anything else.  All hands were called to
"come up and see it rain," and kept on deck hour after hour in a
drenching rain, standing round the deck so far apart as to prevent our
talking with one another, with our tarpaulins and oil-cloth jackets on,
picking old rope to pieces, or laying up gaskets and robands.  This was
often done, too, when we were lying in port with two anchors down, and
no necessity for more than one man on deck as a look-out.  This is what
is called "hazing" a crew, and "working their old iron up."

While lying at Santa Barbara, we encountered another SOUTH-EASTER; and,
like the first, it came on in the night; the great black clouds coming
round from the southward, covering the mountain, and hanging down over
the town, appearing almost to rest upon the roofs of the houses.  We
made sail, slipped our cable, cleared the point, and beat about, for
four days, in the offing, under close sail, with continual rain and
high seas and winds.  No wonder, thought we, they have no rain in the
other seasons, for enough seemed to have fallen in those four days to
last through a common summer.  On the fifth day it cleared up, after a
few hours, as is usual, of rain coming down like a four hours'
shower-bath, and we found ourselves drifted nearly ten leagues from the
anchorage; and having light head winds, we did not return until the
sixth day.  Having recovered our anchor, we made preparations for
getting under weigh to go down to leeward.  We had hoped to go directly
to San Diego, and thus fall in with the California before she sailed
for Boston; but our orders were to stop at an intermediate port called
San Pedro, and as we were to lie there a week or two, and the
California was to sail in a few days, we lost the opportunity. Just
before sailing, the captain took on board a short, red-haired,
round-shouldered, vulgar-looking fellow, who had lost one eye, and
squinted with the other, and introducing him as Mr. Russell, told us
that he was an officer on board.  This was too bad.  We had lost
overboard, on the passage, one of the best of our number, another had
been taken from us and appointed clerk, and thus weakened and reduced,
instead of shipping some hands to make our work easier, he had put
another officer over us, to watch and drive us.  We had now four
officers, and only six in the forecastle.  This was bringing her too
much down by the stern for our comfort.

Leaving Santa Barbara, we coasted along down, the country appearing
level or moderately uneven, and, for the most part, sandy and treeless;
until, doubling a high, sandy point, we let go our anchor at a distance
of three or three and a half miles from shore. It was like a vessel,
bound to Halifax, coming to anchor on the Grand Banks; for the shore
being low, appeared to be at a greater distance than it actually was,
and we thought we might as well have staid at Santa Barbara, and sent
our boat down for the hides. The land was of a clayey consistency, and,
as far as the eye could reach, entirely bare of trees and even shrubs;
and there was no sign of a town,--not even a house to be seen.  What
brought us into such a place, we could not conceive.  No sooner had we
come to anchor, than the slip-rope, and the other preparations for
south-easters, were got ready; and there was reason enough for it, for
we lay exposed to every wind that could blow, except the north-west,
and that came over a flat country with a range of more than a league of
water.  As soon as everything was snug on board, the boat was lowered,
and we pulled ashore, our new officer, who had been several times in
the port before, taking the place of steersman. As we drew in, we found
the tide low, and the rocks and stones, covered with kelp and sea-weed,
lying bare for the distance of nearly an eighth of a mile.  Picking our
way barefooted over these, we came to what is called the landing-place,
at high-water mark. The soil was as it appeared at first, loose and
clayey, and except the stalks of the mustard plant, there was no
vegetation.  Just in front of the landing, and immediately over it, was
a small hill, which, from its being not more than thirty or forty feet
high, we had not perceived from our anchorage.  Over this hill we saw
three men coming down, dressed partly like sailors and partly like
Californians; one of them having on a pair of untanned leather trowsers
and a red baize shirt.  When they came down to us, we found that they
were Englishmen, and they told us that they had belonged to a small
Mexican brig which had been driven ashore here in a SOUTH-EASTER, and
now lived in a small house just over the hill.  Going up this hill with
them, we saw, just behind it, a small, low building, with one room,
containing a fire-place, cooking apparatus, etc., and the rest of it
unfinished, and used as a place to store hides and goods.  This, they
told us, was built by some traders in the Pueblo, (a town about thirty
miles in the interior, to which this was the port,) and used by them as
a storehouse, and also as a lodging place when they came down to trade
with the vessels.  These three men were employed by them to keep the
house in order, and to look out for the things stored in it.  They said
that they had been there nearly a year; had nothing to do most of the
time, living upon beef, hard bread, and frijoles (a peculiar kind of
bean very abundant in California).  The nearest house, they told us,
was a Rancho, or cattle-farm, about three miles off; and one of them
went up, at the request of our officer, to order a horse to be sent
down, with which the agent, who was on board, might go up to the
Pueblo. From one of them, who was an intelligent English sailor, I
learned a good deal, in a few minutes' conversation, about the place,
its trade, and the news from the southern ports.  San Diego, he said,
was about eighty miles to the leeward of San Pedro; that they had heard
from there, by a Mexican who came up on horseback, that the California
had sailed for Boston, and that the Lagoda, which had been in San Pedro
only a few weeks before, was taking in her cargo for Boston.  The
Ayacucho was also there, loading for Callao, and the little Loriotte,
which had run directly down from Monterey, where we left her.  San
Diego, he told me, was a small, snug place, having very little trade,
but decidedly the best harbor on the coast, being completely
land-locked, and the water as smooth as a duck-pond. This was the depot
for all the vessels engaged in the trade; each one having a large house
there, built of rough boards, in which they stowed their hides, as fast
as they collected them in their trips up and down the coast, and when
they had procured a full cargo, spent a few weeks there, taking it in,
smoking ship, supplying wood and water, and making other preparations
for the voyage home. The Lagoda was now about this business.  When we
should be about it, was more than I could tell; two years, at least, I
thought to myself.

I also learned, to my surprise, that the desolate-looking place we were
in was the best place on the whole coast for hides.  It was the only
port for a distance of eighty miles, and about thirty miles in the
interior was a fine plane country, filled with herds of cattle, in the
centre of which was the Pueblo de los Angelos--the largest town in
California--and several of the wealthiest missions; to all of which San
Pedro was the sea-port.

Having made our arrangements for a horse to take the agent to the
Pueblo the next day, we picked our way again over the green, slippery
rocks, and pulled aboard.  By the time we reached the vessel, which was
so far off that we could hardly see her, in the increasing darkness,
the boats were hoisted up, and the crew at supper.  Going down into the
forecastle, eating our supper, and lighting our cigars and pipes, we
had, as usual, to tell all we had seen or heard ashore.  We all agreed
that it was the worst place we had seen yet, especially for getting off
hides, and our lying off at so great a distance looked as though it was
bad for SOUTH-EASTERs. After a few disputes as to whether we should
have to carry our goods up the hill, or not, we talked of San Diego,
the probability of seeing the Lagoda before she sailed, etc., etc.

The next day we pulled the agent ashore, and he went up to visit the
Pueblo and the neighboring missions; and in a few days, as the result
of his labors, large ox-carts, and droves of mules, loaded with hides,
were seen coming over the flat country. We loaded our long-boat with
goods of all kinds, light and heavy, and pulled ashore.  After landing
and rolling them over the stones upon the beach, we stopped, waiting
for the carts to come down the hill and take them; but the captain soon
settled the matter by ordering us to carry them all up to the top,
saying that, that was "California fashion." So what the oxen would not
do, we were obliged to do. The hill was low, but steep, and the earth,
being clayey and wet with the recent rains, was but bad holding-ground
for our feet. The heavy barrels and casks we rolled up with some
difficulty, getting behind and putting our shoulders to them; now and
then our feet slipping, added to the danger of the casks rolling back
upon us.  But the greatest trouble was with the large boxes of sugar.
These, we had to place upon oars, and lifting them up rest the oars
upon our shoulders, and creep slowly up the hill with the gait of a
funeral procession.  After an hour or two of hard work, we got them all
up, and found the carts standing full of hides, which we had to unload,
and also to load again with our own goods; the lazy Indians, who came
down with them, squatting down on their hams, looking on, doing
nothing, and when we asked them to help us, only shaking their heads,
or drawling out "no quiero."

Having loaded the carts, we started up the Indians, who went off, one
on each side of the oxen, with long sticks, sharpened at the end, to
punch them with.  This is one of the means of saving labor in
California;--two Indians to two oxen.  Now, the hides were to be got
down; and for this purpose, we brought the boat round to a place where
the hill was steeper, and threw them down, letting them slide over the
<DW72>.  Many of them lodged, and we had to let ourselves down and set
them agoing again; and in this way got covered with dust, and our
clothes torn.  After we had got them all down, we were obliged to take
them on our heads, and walk over the stones, and through the water, to
the boat. The water and the stones together would wear out a pair of
shoes a day, and as shoes were very scarce and very dear, we were
compelled to go barefooted.  At night, we went on board, having had the
hardest and most disagreeable day's work that we had yet experienced.
For several days, we were employed in this manner, until we had landed
forty or fifty tons of goods, and brought on board about two thousand
hides; when the trade began to slacken, and we were kept at work, on
board, during the latter part of the week, either in the hold or upon
the rigging.  On Thursday night, there was a violent blow from the
northward, but as this was off-shore, we had only to let go our other
anchor and hold on. We were called up at night to send down the
royal-yards.  It was as dark as a pocket, and the vessel pitching at
her anchors, I went up to the fore, and my friend S----, to the main,
and we soon had them down "ship-shape and Bristol fashion," for, as we
had now got used to our duty aloft, everything above the cross-trees
was left to us, who were the youngest of the crew, except one boy.




CHAPTER XV

A FLOGGING--A NIGHT ON SHORE--THE STATE OF THINGS ON BOARD--SAN DIEGO

For several days the captain seemed very much out of humor. Nothing
went right, or fast enough for him.  He quarrelled with the cook, and
threatened to flog him for throwing wood on deck; and had a dispute
with the mate about reeving a Spanish burton; the mate saying that he
was right, and had been taught how to do it by a man who was a sailor!
This, the captain took in dudgeon, and they were at sword's points at
once.  But his displeasure was chiefly turned against a large,
heavy-moulded fellow from the Middle States, who was called Sam.  This
man hesitated in his speech, and was rather slow in his motions, but
was a pretty good sailor, and always seemed to do his best; but the
captain took a dislike to him, thought he was surly, and lazy; and "if
you once give a dog a bad name"--as the sailor-phrase is--"he may as
well jump overboard." The captain found fault with everything this man
did, and hazed him for dropping a marline-spike from the main-yard,
where he was at work.  This, of course, was an accident, but it was set
down against him.  The captain was on board all day Friday, and
everything went on hard and disagreeably.  "The more you drive a man,
the less he will do," was as true with us as with any other people.  We
worked late Friday night, and were turned-to early Saturday morning.
About ten o'clock the captain ordered our new officer, Russell, who by
this time had become thoroughly disliked by all the crew, to get the
gig ready to take him ashore. John, the Swede, was sitting in the boat
alongside, and Russell and myself were standing by the main hatchway,
waiting for the captain, who was down in the hold, where the crew were
at work, when we heard his voice raised in violent dispute with
somebody, whether it was with the mate, or one of the crew, I could not
tell; and then came blows and scuffling.  I ran to the side and
beckoned to John, who came up, and we leaned down the hatchway; and
though we could see no one, yet we knew that the captain had the
advantage, for his voice was loud and clear--

"You see your condition! You see your condition! Will you ever give me
any more of your jaw?"  No answer; and then came wrestling and heaving,
as though the man was trying to turn him. "You may as well keep still,
for I have got you," said the captain. Then came the question, "Will
you ever give me any more of your jaw?"

"I never gave you any, sir," said Sam; for it was his voice that we
heard, though low and half choked.

"That's not what I ask you.  Will you ever be impudent to me again?"

"I never have been, sir," said Sam.

"Answer my question, or I'll make a spread eagle of you! I'll flog you,
by G--d."

"I'm no <DW64> slave," said Sam.

"Then I'll make you one," said the captain; and he came to the
hatchway, and sprang on deck, threw off his coat, and rolling up his
sleeves, called out to the mate--"Seize that man up, Mr. A----!  Seize
him up!  Make a spread eagle of him!  I'll teach you all who is master
aboard!"

The crew and officers followed the captain up the hatchway, and after
repeated orders the mate laid hold of Sam, who made no resistance, and
carried him to the gangway.

"What are you going to flog that man for, sir?" said John, the Swede,
to the captain.

Upon hearing this, the captain turned upon him, but knowing him to be
quick and resolute, he ordered the steward to bring the irons, and
calling upon Russell to help him, went up to John.

"Let me alone," said John.  "I'm willing to be put in irons.  You need
not use any force;" and putting out his hands, the captain slipped the
irons on, and sent him aft to the quarter-deck.  Sam by this time was
seized up, as it is called, that is, placed against the shrouds, with
his wrists made fast to the shrouds, his jacket off, and his back
exposed.  The captain stood on the break of the deck, a few feet from
him, and a little raised, so as to have a good swing at him, and held
in his hand the bight of a thick, strong rope. The officers stood
round, and the crew grouped together in the waist. All these
preparations made me feel sick and almost faint, angry and excited as I
was.  A man--a human being, made in God's likeness--fastened up and
flogged like a beast!  A man, too, whom I had lived with and eaten with
for months, and knew almost as well as a brother. The first and almost
uncontrollable impulse was resistance.  But what was to be done?  The
time for it had gone by.  The two best men were fast, and there were
only two beside myself, and a small boy of ten or twelve years of age.
And then there were (beside the captain) three officers, steward, agent
and clerk.  But beside the numbers, what is there for sailors to do? If
they resist, it is mutiny; and if they succeed, and take the vessel, it
is piracy. If they ever yield again, their punishment must come; and if
they do not yield, they are pirates for life.  If a sailor resist his
commander, he resists the law, and piracy or submission are his only
alternatives.  Bad as it was, it must be borne.  It is what a sailor
ships for.  Swinging the rope over his head, and bending his body so as
to give it full force, the captain brought it down upon the poor
fellow's back.  Once, twice--six times.  "Will you ever give me any
more of your jaw?"  The man writhed with pain, but said not a word.
Three times more.  This was too much, and he muttered something which I
could not hear; this brought as many more as the man could stand; when
the captain ordered him to be cut down, and to go forward.

"Now for you," said the captain, making up to John and taking his irons
off.  As soon as he was loose, he ran forward to the forecastle.
"Bring that man aft," shouted the captain.  The second mate, who had
been a shipmate of John's, stood still in the waist, and the mate
walked slowly forward; but our third officer, anxious to show his zeal,
sprang forward over the windlass, and laid hold of John; but he soon
threw him from him.  At this moment I would have given worlds for the
power to help the poor fellow; but it was all in vain.  The captain
stood on the quarter-deck, bare-headed, his eyes flashing with rage,
and his face as red as blood, swinging the rope, and calling out to his
officers, "Drag him aft!--Lay hold of him!  I'll sweeten him!" etc.,
etc.  The mate now went forward and told John quietly to go aft; and
he, seeing resistance in vain, threw the blackguard third mate from
him; said he would go aft of himself; that they should not drag him;
and went up to the gangway and held out his hands; but as soon as the
captain began to make him fast, the indignity was too much, and he
began to resist; but the mate and Russell holding him, he was soon
seized up.  When he was made fast, he turned to the captain, who stood
turning up his sleeves and getting ready for the blow, and asked him
what he was to be flogged for.  "Have I ever refused my duty, sir?
Have you ever known me to hang back, or to be insolent, or not to know
my work?"

"No," said the captain, "it is not that that I flog you for; I flog you
for your interference--for asking questions."

"Can't a man ask a question here without being flogged?"

"No," shouted the captain; "nobody shall open his mouth aboard this
vessel, but myself;" and began laying the blows upon his back, swinging
half round between each blow, to give it full effect. As he went on,
his passion increased, and he danced about the deck, calling out as he
swung the rope,--"If you want to know what I flog you for, I'll tell
you.  It's because I like to do it!--because I like to do it!--It suits
me!  That's what I do it for!"

The man writhed under the pain, until he could endure it no longer,
when he called out, with an exclamation more common among foreigners
than with us--"Oh, Jesus Christ!  Oh, Jesus Christ!"

"Don't call on Jesus Christ," shouted the captain; "he can't help you.
Call on Captain T----, he's the man!  He can help you! Jesus Christ
can't help you now!"

At these words, which I never shall forget, my blood ran cold. I could
look on no longer.  Disgusted, sick, and horror-struck, I turned away
and leaned over the rail, and looked down into the water.  A few rapid
thoughts of my own situation, and of the prospect of future revenge,
crossed my mind; but the falling of the blows and the cries of the man
called me back at once.  At length they ceased, and turning round, I
found that the mate, at a signal from the captain had cut him down.
Almost doubled up with pain, the man walked slowly forward, and went
down into the forecastle. Every one else stood still at his post, while
the captain, swelling with rage and with the importance of his
achievement, walked the quarter-deck, and at each turn, as he came
forward, calling out to us,--"You see your condition!  You see where
I've got you all, and you know what to expect!"--"You've been mistaken
in me--you didn't know what I was!  Now you know what I am!"--"I'll
make you toe the mark, every soul of you, or I'll flog you all, fore
and aft, from the boy, up!"--"You've got a driver over you!  Yes, a
slave-driver--a <DW64>-driver! I'll see who'll tell me he isn't a <DW64>
slave!" With this and the like matter, equally calculated to quiet us,
and to allay any apprehensions of future trouble, he entertained us for
about ten minutes, when he went below.  Soon after, John came aft, with
his bare back covered with stripes and wales in every direction, and
dreadfully swollen, and asked the steward to ask the captain to let him
have some salve, or balsam, to put upon it.  "No," said the captain,
who heard him from below; "tell him to put his shirt on; that's the
best thing for him; and pull me ashore in the boat. Nobody is going to
lay-up on board this vessel."  He then called to Mr. Russell to take
those men and two others in the boat, and pull him ashore.  I went for
one.  The two men could hardly bend their backs, and the captain called
to them to "give way," "give way!" but finding they did their best, he
let them alone.  The agent was in the stern sheets, but during the
whole pull--a league or more--not a word was spoken.  We landed; the
captain, agent, and officer went up to the house, and left us with the
boat.  I, and the man with me, staid near the boat, while John and Sam
walked slowly away, and sat down on the rocks.  They talked some time
together, but at length separated, each sitting alone.  I had some
fears of John.  He was a foreigner, and violently tempered, and under
suffering; and he had his knife with him, and the captain was to come
down alone to the boat.  But nothing happened; and we went quietly on
board. The captain was probably armed, and if either of them had lifted
a hand against him, they would have had nothing before them but flight,
and starvation in the woods of California, or capture by the soldiers
and Indian blood-hounds, whom the offer of twenty dollars would have
set upon them.

After the day's work was done, we went down into the forecastle, and
ate our plain supper; but not a word was spoken.  It was Saturday
night; but there was no song--no "sweethearts and wives." A gloom was
over everything.  The two men lay in their berths, groaning with pain,
and we all turned in, but for myself, not to sleep.  A sound coming now
and then from the berths of the two men showed that they were awake, as
awake they must have been, for they could hardly lie in one posture a
moment; the dim, swinging lamp of the forecastle shed its light over
the dark hole in which we lived; and many and various reflections and
purposes coursed through my mind.  I thought of our situation, living
under a tyranny; of the character of the country we were in; of the
length of the voyage, and of the uncertainty attending our return to
America; and then, if we should return, of the prospect of obtaining
justice and satisfaction for these poor men; and vowed that if God
should ever give me the means, I would do something to redress the
grievances and relieve the sufferings of that poor class of beings, of
whom I then was one.

The next day was Sunday.  We worked as usual, washing decks, etc.,
until breakfast-time.  After breakfast, we pulled the captain ashore,
and finding some hides there which had been brought down the night
before, he ordered me to stay ashore and watch them, saying that the
boat would come again before night.  They left me, and I spent a quiet
day on the hill, eating dinner with the three men at the little house.
Unfortunately, they had no books, and after talking with them and
walking about, I began to grow tired of doing nothing.  The little
brig, the home of so much hardship and suffering, lay in the offing,
almost as far as one could see; and the only other thing which broke
the surface of the great bay was a small, desolate-looking island,
steep and conical, of a clayey soil, and without the sign of vegetable
life upon it; yet which had a peculiar and melancholy interest to me,
for on the top of it were buried the remains of an Englishman, the
commander of a small merchant brig, who died while lying in this port.
It was always a solemn and interesting spot to me.  There it stood,
desolate, and in the midst of desolation; and there were the remains of
one who died and was buried alone and friendless.  Had it been a common
burying-place, it would have been nothing.  The single body
corresponded well with the solitary character of everything around.  It
was the only thing in California from which I could ever extract
anything like poetry. Then, too, the man died far from home; without a
friend near him; by poison, it was suspected, and no one to inquire
into it; and without proper funeral rites; the mate, (as I was told,)
glad to have him out of the way, hurrying him up the hill and into the
ground, without a word or a prayer.

I looked anxiously for a boat, during the latter part of the afternoon,
but none came; until toward sundown, when I saw a speck on the water,
and as it drew near, I found it was the gig, with the captain. The
hides, then, were not to go off. The captain came up the hill, with a
man, bringing my monkey jacket and a blanket.  He looked pretty black,
but inquired whether I had enough to eat; told me to make a house out
of the hides, and keep myself warm, as I should have to sleep there
among them, and to keep good watch over them.  I got a moment to speak
to the man who brought my jacket.

"How do things go aboard?" said I.

"Bad enough," said he; "hard work and not a kind word spoken."

"What," said I, "have you been at work all day?"

"Yes! no more Sunday for us.  Everything has been moved in the hold,
from stem to stern, and from the waterways to the keelson."

I went up to the house to supper.  We had frijoles, (the perpetual food
of the Californians, but which, when well cooked, are the best bean in
the world,) coffee made of burnt wheat, and hard bread. After our meal,
the three men sat down by the light of a tallow candle, with a pack of
greasy Spanish cards, to the favorite game of "treinta uno," a sort of
Spanish "everlasting." I left them and went out to take up my bivouack
among the hides.  It was now dark; the vessel was hidden from sight,
and except the three men in the house, there was not a living soul
within a league.  The coati (a wild animal of a nature and appearance
between that of the fox and the wolf) set up their sharp, quick bark,
and two owls, at the end of two distant points running out into the
bay, on different sides of the hills where I lay, kept up their
alternate, dismal notes. I had heard the sound before at night, but did
not know what it was, until one of the men, who came down to look at my
quarters, told me it was the owl.  Mellowed by the distance, and heard
alone, at night, I thought it was the most melancholy, boding sound I
had ever heard.  Through nearly all the night they kept it up,
answering one another slowly, at regular intervals.  This was relieved
by the noisy coati, some of which came quite near to my quarters, and
were not very pleasant neighbors.  The next morning, before sunrise,
the long-boat came ashore, and the hides were taken off.

We lay at San Pedro about a week, engaged in taking off hides and in
other labors, which had now become our regular duties. I spent one more
day on the hill, watching a quantity of hides and goods, and this time
succeeded in finding a part of a volume of Scott's Pirate, in a corner
of the house; but it failed me at a most interesting moment, and I
betook myself to my acquaintances on shore, and from them learned a
good deal about the customs of the country, the harbors, etc.  This,
they told me, was a worse harbor than Santa Barbara, for SOUTH-EASTERs;
the bearing of the headland being a point and a half more to windward,
and it being so shallow that the sea broke often as far out as where we
lay at anchor. The gale from which we slipped at Santa Barbara, had
been so bad a one here, that the whole bay, for a league out, was
filled with the foam of the breakers, and seas actually broke over the
Dead Man's island.  The Lagoda was lying there, and slipped at the
first alarm, and in such haste that she was obliged to leave her launch
behind her at anchor.  The little boat rode it out for several hours,
pitching at her anchor, and standing with her stern up almost
perpendicularly. The men told me that they watched her till towards
night, when she snapped her cable and drove up over the breakers, high
and dry upon the beach.

On board the Pilgrim, everything went on regularly, each one trying to
get along as smoothly as possible; but the comfort of the voyage was
evidently at an end.  "That is a long lane which has no
turning"---"Every dog must have his day, and mine will come
by-and-by"--and the like proverbs, were occasionally quoted; but no one
spoke of any probable end to the voyage, or of Boston, or anything of
the kind; or if he did, it was only to draw out the perpetual, surly
reply from his shipmate--"Boston, is it? You may thank your stars if
you ever see that place.  You had better have your back sheathed, and
your head coppered, and your feet shod, and make out your log for
California for life!" or else something of this kind--"Before you get
to Boston the hides will wear the hair off your head, and you'll take
up all your wages in clothes, and won't have enough left to buy a wig
with!"

The flogging was seldom if ever alluded to by us, in the forecastle. If
any one was inclined to talk about it, the others, with a delicacy
which I hardly expected to find among them, always stopped him, or
turned the subject.  But the behavior of the two men who were flogged
toward one another showed a delicacy and a sense of honor, which would
have been worthy of admiration in the highest walks of life.  Sam knew
that the other had suffered solely on his account, and in all his
complaints, he said that if he alone had been flogged, it would have
been nothing; but that he never could see that man without thinking
what had been the means of bringing that disgrace upon him; and John
never, by word or deed, let anything escape him to remind the other
that it was by interfering to save his shipmate, that he had suffered.

Having got all our spare room filled with hides, we hove up our anchor
and made sail for San Diego.  In no operation can the disposition of a
crew be discovered better than in getting under weigh.

Where things are "done with a will," every one is like a cat aloft:
sails are loosed in an instant; each one lays out his strength on his
handspike, and the windlass goes briskly round with the loud cry of "Yo
heave ho! Heave and pawl! Heave hearty ho!"  But with us, at this time,
it was all dragging work.  No one went aloft beyond his ordinary gait,
and the chain came slowly in over the windlass. The mate, between the
knight-heads, exhausted all his official rhetoric, in calls of "Heave
with a will!"--"Heave hearty, men!--heave hearty!"--"Heave and raise
the dead!"--"Heave, and away!" etc., etc.; but it would not do.  Nobody
broke his back or his hand-spike by his efforts.  And when the
cat-tackle-fall was strung along, and all hands--cook, steward, and
all--laid hold, to cat the anchor, instead of the lively song of
"Cheerily, men!" in which all hands join in the chorus, we pulled a
long, heavy, silent pull, and--as sailors say a song is as good as ten
men--the anchor came to the cat-head pretty slowly.  "Give us
'Cheerily!'" said the mate; but there was no "cheerily" for us, and we
did without it. The captain walked the quarterdeck, and said not a
word.  He must have seen the change, but there was nothing which he
could notice officially.

We sailed leisurely down the coast before a light fair wind, keeping
the land well aboard, and saw two other missions, looking like blocks
of white plaster, shining in the distance; one of which, situated on
the top of a high hill, was San Juan Campestrano, under which vessels
sometimes come to anchor, in the summer season, and take off hides. The
most distant one was St. Louis Rey, which the third mate said was only
fifteen miles from San Diego.  At sunset on the second day, we had a
large and well wooded headland directly before us, behind which lay the
little harbor of San Diego.  We were becalmed off this point all night,
but the next morning, which was Saturday, the 14th of March, having a
good breeze, we stood round the point, and hauling our wind, brought
the little harbor, which is rather the outlet of a small river, right
before us.  Every one was anxious to get a view of the new place.  A
chain of high hills, beginning at the point, (which was on our larboard
hand, coming in,) protected the harbor on the north and west, and ran
off into the interior as far as the eye could reach.  On the other
sides, the land was low, and green, but without trees.  The entrance is
so narrow as to admit but one vessel at a time, the current swift, and
the channel runs so near to a low stony point that the ship's sides
appeared almost to touch it. There was no town in sight, but on the
smooth sand beach, abreast, and within a cable's length of which three
vessels lay moored, were four large houses, built of rough boards, and
looking like the great barns in which ice is stored on the borders of
the large ponds near Boston; with piles of hides standing round them,
and men in red shirts and large straw hats, walking in and out of the
doors. These were the hide-houses.  Of the vessels: one, a short,
clumsy, little hermaphrodite brig, we recognized as our old
acquaintance, the Loriotte; another, with sharp bows and raking masts,
newly painted and tarred, and glittering in the morning sun, with the
blood-red banner and cross of St. George at her peak, was the handsome
Ayacucho. The third was a large ship, with top-gallant-masts housed,
and sails unbent, and looking as rusty and worn as two years'
"hide-droghing" could make her.  This was the Lagoda.  As we drew near,
carried rapidly along by the current, we overhauled our chain, and
clewed up the topsails.  "Let go the anchor!" said the captain but
either there was not chain enough forward of the windlass, or the
anchor went down foul, or we had too much headway on, for it did not
bring us up. "Pay out chain!" shouted the captain; and we gave it to
her; but it would not do.  Before the other anchor could be let go, we
drifted down, broadside on, and went smash into the Lagoda.  Her crew
were at breakfast in the forecastle, and the cook, seeing us coming,
rushed out of his galley, and called up the officers and men.

Fortunately no great harm was done.  Her jib-boom ran between our fore
and main masts, carrying away some of our rigging, and breaking down
the rail.  She lost her martingale.  This brought us up, and as they
paid out chain, we swung clear of them, and let go the other anchor;
but this had as bad luck as the first, for, before any one perceived
it, we were drifting on to the Loriotte.  The captain now gave out his
orders rapidly and fiercely, sheeting home the topsails, and backing
and filling the sails, in hope of starting or clearing the anchors; but
it was all in vain, and he sat down on the rail, taking it very
leisurely, and calling out to Captain Nye, that he was coming to pay
him a visit.  We drifted fairly into the Loriotte, her larboard bow
into our starboard quarter, carrying away a part of our starboard
quarter railing, and breaking off her larboard bumpkin, and one or two
stanchions above the deck.  We saw our handsome sailor, Jackson, on the
forecastle, with the Sandwich Islanders, working away to get us clear.
After paying out chain, we swung clear, but our anchors were no doubt
afoul of hers.  We manned the windlass, and hove, and hove away, but to
no purpose. Sometimes we got a little upon the cable, but a good surge
would take it all back again.  We now began to drift down toward the
Ayacucho, when her boat put off and brought her commander, Captain
Wilson, on board.  He was a short, active, well-built man, between
fifty and sixty years of age; and being nearly twenty years older than
our captain, and a thorough seaman, he did not hesitate to give his
advice, and from giving advice, he gradually came to taking the
command; ordering us when to heave and when to pawl, and backing and
filling the topsails, setting and taking in jib and trysail, whenever
he thought best.  Our captain gave a few orders, but as Wilson
generally countermanded them, saying, in an easy, fatherly kind of way,
"Oh no! Captain T----, you don't want the jib on her," or "it isn't
time yet to heave!" he soon gave it up.  We had no objections to this
state of things, for Wilson was a kind old man, and had an encouraging
and pleasant way of speaking to us, which made everything go easily.
After two or three hours of constant labor at the windlass, heaving and
"Yo ho!"-ing with all our might, we brought up an anchor, with the
Loriotte's small bower fast to it, Having cleared this and let it go,
and cleared our hawse, we soon got our other anchor, which had dragged
half over the harbor. "Now," said Wilson, "I'll find you a good berth;"
and setting both the topsails, he carried us down, and brought us to
anchor, in handsome style, directly abreast of the hide-house which we
were to use.  Having done this, he took his leave, while we furled the
sails, and got our breakfast, which was welcome to us, for we had
worked hard, and it was nearly twelve o'clock.  After breakfast, and
until night, we were employed in getting out the boats and mooring ship.

After supper, two of us took the captain on board the Lagoda. As he
came alongside, he gave his name, and the mate, in the gangway, called
out to the captain down the companion-way--"Captain T---- has come
aboard, sir!"  "Has he brought his brig with him?" said the rough old
fellow, in a tone which made itself heard fore and aft.  This mortified
our captain a little, and it became a standing joke among us for the
rest of the voyage. The captain went down into the cabin, and we walked
forward and put our heads down the forecastle, where we found the men
at supper, "Come down, shipmates! Come down!" said they, as soon as
they saw us; and we went down, and found a large, high forecastle, well
lighted; and a crew of twelve or fourteen men, eating out of their kids
and pans, and drinking their tea, and talking and laughing, all as
independent and easy as so many "wood-sawyer's clerks." This looked
like comfort and enjoyment, compared with the dark little forecastle,
and scanty, discontented crew of the brig. It was Saturday night; they
had got through with their work for the week; and being snugly moored,
had nothing to do until Monday, again. After two years' hard service,
they had seen the worst, and all, of California;--had got their cargo
nearly stowed, and expected to sail in a week or two, for Boston.  We
spent an hour or more with them, talking over California matters, until
the word was passed--"Pilgrims, away!" and we went back with our
captain.  They were a hardy, but intelligent crew; a little roughened,
and their clothes patched and old, from California wear; all able
seamen, and between the ages of twenty and thirty-five.  They inquired
about our vessel, the usage, etc., and were not a little surprised at
the story of the flogging.  They said there were often difficulties in
vessels on the coast, and sometimes knock-downs and fightings, but they
had never heard before of a regular seizing-up and flogging.
"Spread-eagles" were a new kind of bird in California.

Sunday, they said, was always given in San Diego, both at the
hide-houses and on board the vessels, a large number usually going up
to the town, on liberty.  We learned a good deal from them about curing
and stowing of hides, etc. and they were anxious to have the latest
news (seven months old) from Boston. One of their first inquiries was
for Father Taylor, the seamen's preacher in Boston.  Then followed the
usual strain of conversation, inquiries, stories, and jokes, which, one
must always hear in a ship's forecastle, but which are perhaps, after
all, no worse, nor, indeed, more gross, than that of many well-dressed
gentlemen at their clubs.




CHAPTER XVI

LIBERTY-DAY ON SHORE

The next day being Sunday, after washing and clearing decks, and
getting breakfast, the mate came forward with leave for one watch to go
ashore, on liberty.  We drew lots, and it fell to the larboard, which I
was in.  Instantly all was preparation.  Buckets of fresh water, (which
we were allowed in port,) and soap, were put in use; go-ashore jackets
and trowsers got out and brushed; pumps, neckerchiefs, and hats
overhauled; one lending to another; so that among the whole each one
got a good fit-out.  A boat was called to pull the "liberty men"
ashore, and we sat down in the stern sheets, "as big as pay
passengers," and jumping ashore, set out on our walk for the town,
which was nearly three miles off.

It is a pity that some other arrangement is not made in merchant
vessels, with regard to the liberty-day.  When in port, the crews are
kept at work all the week, and the only day they are allowed for rest
or pleasure is the Sabbath; and unless they go ashore on that day, they
cannot go at all.  I have heard of a religious captain who gave his
crew liberty on Saturdays, after twelve o'clock. This would be a good
plan, if shipmasters would bring themselves to give their crews so much
time.  For young sailors especially, many of whom have been brought up
with a regard for the sacredness of the day, this strong temptation to
break it, is exceedingly injurious. As it is, it can hardly be expected
that a crew, on a long and hard voyage, will refuse a few hours of
freedom from toil and the restraints of a vessel, and an opportunity to
tread the ground and see the sights of society and humanity, because it
is on a Sunday. It is too much like escaping from prison, or being
drawn out of a pit, on the Sabbath day.

I shall never forget the delightful sensation of being in the open air,
with the birds singing around me, and escaped from the confinement,
labor, and strict rule of a vessel--of being once more in my life,
though only for a day, my own master. A sailor's liberty is but for a
day; yet while it lasts it is perfect.  He is under no one's eye, and
can do whatever, and go wherever, he pleases.  This day, for the first
time, I may truly say, in my whole life, I felt the meaning of a term
which I had often heard--the sweets of liberty.  My friend S---- was
with me, and turning our backs upon the vessels, we walked slowly
along, talking of the pleasure of being our own masters, of the times
past, and when we were free in the midst of friends, in America, and of
the prospect of our return; and planning where we would go, and what we
would do, when we reached home.  It was wonderful how the prospect
brightened, and how short and tolerable the voyage appeared, when
viewed in this new light.  Things looked differently from what they did
when we talked them over in the little dark forecastle, the night after
the flogging at San Pedro.  It is not the least of the advantages of
allowing sailors occasionally a day of liberty, that it gives them a
spring, and makes them feel cheerful and independent, and leads them
insensibly to look on the bright side of everything for some time after.

S---- and myself determined to keep as much together as possible,
though we knew that it would not do to cut our shipmates; for, knowing
our birth and education, they were a little suspicious that we would
try to put on the gentleman when we got ashore, and would be ashamed of
their company; and this won't do with Jack.  When the voyage is at an
end, you may do as you please, but so long as you belong to the same
vessel, you must be a shipmate to him on shore, or he will not be a
shipmate to you on board.  Being forewarned of this before I went to
sea, I took no "long togs" with me, and being dressed like the rest, in
white duck trowsers, blue jacket and straw hat, which would prevent my
going in better company, and showing no disposition to avoid them, I
set all suspicion at rest.  Our crew fell in with some who belonged to
the other vessels, and, sailor-like, steered for the first grog-shop.
This was a small mud building, of only one room, in which were liquors,
dry and West India goods, shoes, bread, fruits, and everything which is
vendible in California.  It was kept by a yankee, a one-eyed man, who
belonged formerly to Fall River, came out to the Pacific in a
whale-ship, left her at the Sandwich Islands, and came to California
and set up a "Pulperia."  S---- and I followed in our shipmates' wake,
knowing that to refuse to drink with them would be the highest affront,
but determining to slip away at the first opportunity.  It is the
universal custom with sailors for each one, in his turn, to treat the
whole, calling for a glass all round, and obliging every one who is
present, even the keeper of the shop, to take a glass with him.  When
we first came in, there was some dispute between our crew and the
others, whether the new comers or the old California rangers should
treat first; but it being settled in favor of the latter, each of the
crews of the other vessels treated all round in their turn, and as
there were a good many present, (including some "loafers" who had
dropped in, knowing what was going on, to take advantage of Jack's
hospitality,) and the liquor was a real (121/2 cents) a glass, it made
somewhat of a hole in their lockers.  It was now our ship's turn, and
S---- and I, anxious to get away, stepped up to call for glasses; but
we soon found that we must go in order--the oldest first, for the old
sailors did not choose to be preceded by a couple of youngsters; and
bon gre mal gre, we had to wait our turn, with the twofold apprehension
of being too late for our horses, and of getting corned; for drink you
must, every time; and if you drink with one and not with another, it is
always taken as an insult.

Having at length gone through our turns and acquitted ourselves of all
obligations, we slipped out, and went about among the houses,
endeavoring to get horses for the day, so that we might ride round and
see the country.  At first we had but little success, all that we could
get out of the lazy fellows, in reply to our questions, being the
eternal drawling "Quien sabe?" ("who knows?") which is an answer to all
questions.  After several efforts, we at length fell in with a little
Sandwich Island boy, who belonged to Captain Wilson of the Ayacucho,
and was well acquainted in the place; and he, knowing where to go, soon
procured us two horses, ready saddled and bridled, each with a lasso
coiled over the pommel.  These we were to have all day, with the
privilege of riding them down to the beach at night, for a dollar,
which we had to pay in advance.  Horses are the cheapest thing in
California; the very best not being worth more than ten dollars apiece,
and very good ones being often sold for three, and four.  In taking a
day's ride, you pay for the use of the saddle, and for the labor and
trouble of catching the horses.  If you bring the saddle back safe,
they care but little what becomes of the horse.  Mounted on our horses,
which were spirited beasts, and which, by the way, in this country, are
always steered by pressing the contrary rein against the neck, and not
by pulling on the bit,--we started off on a fine run over the country.
The first place we went to was the old ruinous presidio, which stands
on a rising ground near the village, which it overlooks.  It is built
in the form of an open square, like all the other presidios, and was in
a most ruinous state, with the exception of one side, in which the
commandant lived, with his family.  There were only two guns, one of
which was spiked, and the other had no carriage.  Twelve, half clothed,
and half starved looking fellows, composed the garrison; and they, it
was said, had not a musket apiece.  The small settlement lay directly
below the fort, composed of about forty dark brown looking huts, or
houses, and two larger ones, plastered, which belonged to two of the
"gente de razon."  This town is not more than half as large as
Monterey, or Santa Barbara, and has little or no business.  From the
presidio, we rode off in the direction of the mission, which we were
told was three miles distant.  The country was rather sandy, and there
was nothing for miles which could be called a tree, but the grass grew
green and rank, and there were many bushes and thickets, and the soil
is said to be good.  After a pleasant ride of a couple of miles, we saw
the white walls of the mission, and fording a small river, we came
directly before it.  The mission is built of mud, or rather of the
unburnt bricks of the country, and plastered.  There was something
decidedly striking in its appearance: a number of irregular buildings,
connected with one another, and disposed in the form of a hollow
square, with a church at one end, rising above the rest, with a tower
containing five belfries, in each of which hung a large bell, and with
immense rusty iron crosses at the tops.  Just outside of the buildings,
and under the walls, stood twenty or thirty small huts, built of straw
and of the branches of trees, grouped together, in which a few Indians
lived, under the protection and in the service of the mission.

Entering a gate-way, we drove into the open square, in which the
stillness of death reigned.  On one side was the church; on another, a
range of high buildings with grated windows; a third was a range of
smaller buildings, or offices; and the fourth seemed to be little more
than a high connecting wall.  Not a living creature could we see.  We
rode twice round the square, in the hope of waking up some one; and in
one circuit, saw a tall monk, with shaven head, sandals, and the dress
of the Grey Friars, pass rapidly through a gallery, but he disappeared
without noticing us.  After two circuits, we stopped our horses, and
saw, at last, a man show himself in front of one of the small
buildings.  We rode up to him, and found him dressed in the common
dress of the country, with a silver chain round his neck, supporting a
large bunch of keys.  From this, we took him to be the steward of the
mission, and addressing him as "Mayordomo," received a low bow and an
invitation to walk into his room.  Making our horses fast, we went in.
It was a plain room, containing a table, three or four chairs, a small
picture or two of some saint, or miracle, or martyrdom, and a few
dishes and glasses.  "Hay algunas cosa de comer?" said I.  "Si Senor!"
said he. "Que gusta usted?"  Mentioning frijoles, which I knew they
must have if they had nothing else, and beef and bread, and a hint for
wine, if they had any, he went off to another building, across the
court, and returned in a few moments, with a couple of Indian boys,
bearing dishes and a decanter of wine.  The dishes contained baked
meats, frijoles stewed with peppers and onions, boiled eggs, and
California flour baked into a kind of macaroni.  These, together with
the wine, made the most sumptuous meal we had eaten since we left
Boston; and, compared with the fare we had lived upon for seven months,
it was a regal banquet.  After despatching our meal, we took out some
money and asked him how much we were to pay. He shook his head, and
crossed himself, saying that it was charity:--that the Lord gave it to
us.  Knowing the amount of this to be that he did not sell it, but was
willing to receive a present, we gave him ten or twelve reals, which he
pocketed with admirable nonchalance, saying, "Dios se lo pague."
Taking leave of him, we rode out to the Indians' huts.  The little
children were running about among the huts, stark naked, and the men
were not much better; but the women had generally coarse gowns, of a
sort of tow cloth.  The men are employed, most of the time, in tending
the cattle of the mission, and in working in the garden, which is a
very large one, including several acres, and filled, it is said, with
the best fruits of the climate.  The language of these people, which is
spoken by all the Indians of California, is the most brutish and
inhuman language, without any exception, that I ever heard, or that
could well be conceived of.  It is a complete slabber.  The words fall
off of the ends of their tongues, and a continual slabbering sound is
made in the cheeks, outside of the teeth.  It cannot have been the
language of Montezuma and the independent Mexicans.

Here, among the huts, we saw the oldest man that I had ever seen; and,
indeed, I never supposed that a person could retain life and exhibit
such marks of age.  He was sitting out in the sun, leaning against the
side of a hut; and his legs and arms, which were bare, were of a dark
red color, the skin withered and shrunk up like burnt leather, and the
limbs not larger round than those of a boy of five years.  He had a few
grey hairs, which were tied together at the back of his head; and he
was so feeble that, when we came up to him, he raised his hands slowly
to his face, and taking hold of his lids with his fingers, lifted them
up to look at us; and being satisfied, let them drop again.  All
command over the lid seemed to have gone.  I asked his age, but could
get no answer but "Quien sabe?" and they probably did not know the age.

Leaving the mission, we returned to village, going nearly all the way
on a full run.  The California horses have no medium gait, which is
pleasant, between walking and running; for as there are no streets and
parades, they have no need of the genteel trot, and their riders
usually keep them at the top of their speed until they are fired, and
then let them rest themselves by walking. The fine air of the
afternoon; the rapid rate of the animals, who seemed almost to fly over
the ground; and the excitement and novelty of the motion to us, who had
been so long confined on shipboard, were exhilarating beyond
expression, and we felt willing to ride all day long.  Coming into the
village, we found things looking very lively.  The Indians, who always
have a holyday on Sunday, were engaged at playing a kind of running
game of ball, on a level piece of ground, near the houses.  The old
ones sat down in a ring, looking on, while the young ones--men, boys
and girls--were chasing the ball, and throwing it with all their might.
Some of the girls ran like greyhounds.  At every accident, or
remarkable feat, the old people set up a deafening screaming and
clapping of hands.  Several blue jackets were reeling about among the
houses, which showed that the pulperias had been well patronized.  One
or two of the sailors had got on horseback, but being rather
indifferent horsemen, and the Spaniards having given them vicious
horses, they were soon thrown, much to the amusement of the people.  A
half dozen Sandwich Islanders, from the hide-houses and the two brigs,
who are bold riders, were dashing about on the full gallop, hallooing
and laughing like so many wild men.

It was now nearly sundown, and S---- and myself went into a house and
sat quietly down to rest ourselves before going down to the beach.
Several people were soon collected to see "los Ingles marineros," and
one of them--a young woman--took a great fancy to my pocket
handkerchief, which was a large silk one that I had before going to
sea, and a handsomer one than they had been in the habit of seeing.  Of
course, I gave it to her; which brought us into high favor; and we had
a present of some pears and other fruits, which we took down to the
beach with us.  When we came to leave the house, we found that our
horses, which we left tied at the door, were both gone.  We had paid
for them to ride down to the beach, but they were not to be found.  We
went to the man of whom we hired them, but he only shrugged his
shoulders, and to our question, "Where are the horses?" only
answered--"Quien sabe?" but as he was very easy, and made no inquiries
for the saddles, we saw that he knew very well where they were.  After
a little trouble, determined not to walk down,--a distance of three
miles--we procured two, at four reals apiece, with an Indian boy to run
on behind and bring them back.  Determined to have "the go" out of the
horses, for our trouble, we went down at full speed, and were on the
beach in fifteen minutes.  Wishing to make our liberty last as long as
possible, we rode up and down among the hide-houses, amusing ourselves
with seeing the men, as they came down, (it was now dusk,) some on
horseback and others on foot. The Sandwich Islanders rode down, and
were in "high snuff." We inquired for our shipmates, and were told that
two of them had started on horseback and had been thrown or had fallen
off, and were seen heading for the beach, but steering pretty wild, and
by the looks of things, would not be down much before midnight.

The Indian boys having arrived, we gave them our horses, and having
seen them safely off, hailed for a boat and went aboard. Thus ended our
first liberty-day on shore.  We were well tired, but had had a good
time, and were more willing to go back to our old duties.  About
midnight, we were waked up by our two watchmates, who had come aboard
in high dispute.  It seems they had started to come down on the same
horse, double-backed; and each was accusing the other of being the
cause of his fall.  They soon, however, turned-in and fell asleep, and
probably forgot all about it, for the next morning the dispute was not
renewed.




CHAPTER XVII

SAN DIEGO--A DESERTION--SAN PEDRO AGAIN--BEATING THE COAST

The next sound we heard was "All hands ahoy!" and looking up the
scuttle, saw that it was just daylight.  Our liberty had now truly
taken flight, and with it we laid away our pumps, stockings, blue
jackets, neckerchiefs, and other go-ashore paraphernalia, and putting
on old duck trowsers, red shirts, and Scotch caps, began taking out and
landing our hides.  For three days we were hard at work, from the grey
of the morning until starlight, with the exception of a short time
allowed for meals, in this duty. For landing and taking on board hides,
San Diego is decidedly the best place in California.  The harbor is
small and land-locked; there is no surf; the vessels lie within a
cable's length of the beach; and the beach itself is smooth, hard sand,
without rocks or stones.  For these reasons, it is used by all the
vessels in the trade, as a depot; and, indeed, it would be impossible,
when loading with the cured hides for the passage home, to take them on
board at any of the open ports, without getting them wet in the surf,
which would spoil them.  We took possession of one of the hide-houses,
which belonged to our firm, and had been used by the California. It was
built to hold forty thousand hides, and we had the pleasing prospect of
filling it before we could leave the coast; and toward this, our
thirty-five hundred, which we brought down with us, would do but
little.  There was not a man on board who did not go a dozen times into
the house, and look round, and make some calculation of the time it
would require.

The hides, as they come rough and uncured from the vessels, are piled
up outside of the houses, whence they are taken and carried through a
regular process of pickling, drying, cleaning, etc., and stowed away in
the house, ready to be put on board.  This process is necessary in
order that they may keep, during a long voyage, and in warm latitudes.
For the purpose of curing and taking care of these hides, an officer
and a part of the crew of each vessel are usually left ashore and it
was for this business, we found, that our new officer had joined us.
As soon as the hides were landed, he took charge of the house, and the
captain intended to leave two or three of us with him, hiring Sandwich
Islanders to take our places on board; but he could not get any
Sandwich Islanders to go, though he offered them fifteen dollars a
month; for the report of the flogging had got among them, and he was
called "aole maikai," (no good,) and that was an end of the business.
They were, however, willing to work on shore, and four of them were
hired and put with Mr. Russell to cure the hides.

After landing our hides, we next sent ashore all our spare spars and
rigging; all the stores which we did not want to use in the course of
one trip to windward; and, in fact, everything which we could spare, so
as to make room for hides: among other things, the pig-sty, and with it
"old Bess."  This was an old sow that we had brought from Boston, and
which lived to get around Cape Horn, where all the other pigs died from
cold and wet.  Report said that she had been a Canton voyage before.
She had been the pet of the cook during the whole passage, and he had
fed her with the best of everything, and taught her to know his voice,
and to do a number of strange tricks for his amusement.  Tom Cringle
says that no one can fathom a <DW64>'s affection for a pig; and I
believe he is right, for it almost broke our poor <DW54>'s heart when he
heard that Bess was to be taken ashore, and that he was to have the
care of her no more during the whole voyage.  He had depended upon her
as a solace, during the long trips up and down the coast. "Obey orders,
if you break owners!" said he.  "Break hearts," he meant to have said;
and lent a hand to get her over the side, trying to make it as easy for
her as possible.  We got a whip up on the main-yard, and hooking it to
a strap around her body, swayed away; and giving a wink to one another,
ran her chock up to the yard.  "'Vast there! 'vast!" said the mate;
"none of your skylarking! Lower away!" But he evidently enjoyed the
joke.  The pig squealed like the "crack of doom," and tears stood in
the poor <DW54>'s eyes; and he muttered something about having no pity
on a dumb beast. "Dumb beast!" said Jack; "if she's what you call a
dumb beast, then my eyes a'n't mates."  This produced a laugh from all
but the cook.  He was too intent upon seeing her safe in the boat. He
watched her all the way ashore, where, upon her landing, she was
received by a whole troop of her kind, who had been sent ashore from
the other vessels, and had multiplied and formed a large commonwealth.
From the door of his galley, the cook used to watch them in their
manoeuvres, setting up a shout and clapping his hands whenever Bess
came off victorious in the struggles for pieces of raw hide and
half-picked bones which were lying about the beach.  During the day, he
saved all the nice things, and made a bucket of swill, and asked us to
take it ashore in the gig, and looked quite disconcerted when the mate
told him that he would pitch the swill overboard, and him after it, if
he saw any of it go into the boats.  We told him that he thought more
about the pig than he did about his wife, who lived down in Robinson's
Alley; and, indeed, he could hardly have been more attentive, for he
actually, on several nights, after dark, when he thought he would not
be seen, sculled himself ashore in a boat with a bucket of nice swill,
and returned like Leander from crossing the Hellespont.

The next Sunday the other half of our crew went ashore on liberty, and
left us on board, to enjoy the first quiet Sunday which we had had upon
the coast.  Here were no hides to come off, and no SOUTH-EASTERs to
fear.  We washed and mended our clothes in the morning, and spent the
rest of the day in reading and writing.  Several of us wrote letters to
send home by the Lagoda.  At twelve o'clock the Ayacucho dropped her
fore topsail, which was a signal for her sailing.  She unmoored and
warped down into the bight, from which she got under way.  During this
operation, her crew were a long time heaving at the windlass, and I
listened for nearly an hour to the musical notes of a Sandwich
Islander, called Mahannah, who "sang out" for them.  Sailors, when
heaving at a windlass, in order that they may heave together, always
have one to sing out; which is done in a peculiar, high and long-drawn
note, varying with the motion of the windlass.  This requires a high
voice, strong lungs, and much practice, to be done well.  This fellow
had a very peculiar, wild sort of note, breaking occasionally into a
falsetto.  The sailors thought it was too high, and not enough of the
boatswain hoarseness about it; but to me it had a great charm.  The
harbor was perfectly still, and his voice rang among the hills, as
though it could have been heard for miles.  Toward sundown, a good
breeze having sprung up, she got under weigh, and with her long, sharp
head cutting elegantly through the water, on a taut bowline, she
stood directly out of the harbor, and bore away to the southward. She
was bound to Callao, and thence to the Sandwich Islands, and expected
to be on the coast again in eight or ten months.

At the close of the week we were ready to sail, but were delayed a day
or two by the running away of F----, the man who had been our second
mate, and was turned forward.  From the time that he was "broken," he
had had a dog's berth on board the vessel, and determined to run away
at the first opportunity. Having shipped for an officer when he was not
half a seaman, he found little pity with the crew, and was not man
enough to hold his ground among them.  The captain called him a
"soger,"[1] and promised to "ride him down as he would the main tack;"
and when officers are once determined to "ride a man down," it is a
gone case with him.  He had had several difficulties with the captain,
and asked leave to go home in the Lagoda; but this was refused him. One
night he was insolent to an officer on the beach, and refused to come
aboard in the boat.  He was reported to the captain; and as he came
aboard,--it being past the proper hour,--he was called aft, and told
that he was to have a flogging.  Immediately, he fell down on the deck,
calling out--"Don't flog me, Captain T----; don't flog me!" and the
captain, angry with him, and disgusted with his cowardice, gave him a
few blows over the back with a rope's end and sent him forward.  He was
not much hurt, but a good deal frightened, and made up his mind to run
away that very night.  This was managed better than anything he ever
did in his life, and seemed really to show some spirit and forethought.
He gave his bedding and mattress to one of the Lagoda's crew, who took
it aboard his vessel as something which he had bought, and promised to
keep it for him.  He then unpacked his chest, putting all his valuable
clothes into a large canvas bag, and told one of us, who had the watch,
to call him at midnight.  Coming on deck, at midnight, and finding no
officer on deck, and all still aft, he lowered his bag into a boat, got
softly down into it, cast off the painter, and let it drop silently
with the tide until he was out of hearing, when he sculled ashore.

The next morning, when all hands were mustered, there was a great stir
to find F----.  Of course, we would tell nothing, and all they could
discover was, that he had left an empty chest behind him, and that he
went off in a boat; for they saw it lying up high and dry on the beach.
After breakfast, the captain went up to the town, and offered a reward
of twenty dollars for him; and for a couple of days, the soldiers,
Indians, and all others who had nothing to do, were scouring the
country for him, on horseback, but without effect; for he was safely
concealed, all the time, within fifty rods of the hide-houses.  As soon
as he had landed, he went directly to the Lagoda's hide-house, and a
part of her crew, who were living there on shore, promised to conceal
him and his traps until the Pilgrim should sail, and then to intercede
with Captain Bradshaw to take him on board the ship.  Just behind the
hide-houses, among the thickets and underwood, was a small cave, the
entrance to which was known only to two men on the beach, and which was
so well concealed that, though, when I afterwards came to live on
shore, it was shown to me two or three times, I was never able to find
it alone.  To this cave he was carried before daybreak in the morning,
and supplied with bread and water, and there remained until he saw us
under weigh and well round the point.

Friday, March 27th.  The captain, having given up all hope of finding
F----, and being unwilling to delay any longer, gave orders for
unmooring the ship, and we made sail, dropping slowly down with the
tide and light wind.  We left letters with Captain Bradshaw to take to
Boston, and had the satisfaction of hearing him say that he should be
back again before we left the coast. The wind, which was very light,
died away soon after we doubled the point, and we lay becalmed for two
days, not moving three miles the whole time, and a part of the second
day were almost within sight of the vessels.  On the third day, about
noon, a cool sea-breeze came rippling and darkening the surface of the
water, and by sundown we were off San Juan's, which is about forty
miles from San Diego, and is called half way to San Pedro, where we
were now bound. Our crew was now considerably weakened.  One man we had
lost overboard; another had been taken aft as clerk; and a third had
run away; so that, beside S---- and myself, there were only three able
seamen and one boy of twelve years of age.  With this diminished and
discontented crew, and in a small vessel, we were now to battle the
watch through a couple of years of hard service; yet there was not one
who was not glad that F---- had escaped; for, shiftless and good for
nothing as he was, no one could wish to see him dragging on a miserable
life, cowed down and disheartened; and we were all rejoiced to hear,
upon our return to San Diego, about two months afterwards, that he had
been immediately taken aboard the Lagoda, and went home in her, on
regular seaman's wages.

After a slow passage of five days, we arrived, on Wednesday, the first
of April, at our old anchoring ground at San Pedro. The bay was as
deserted, and looked as dreary, as before, and formed no pleasing
contrast with the security and snugness of San Diego, and the activity
and interest which the loading and unloading of four vessels gave to
that scene.  In a few days the hides began to come slowly down, and we
got into the old business of rolling goods up the hill, pitching hides
down, and pulling our long league off and on.  Nothing of note occurred
while we were lying here, except that an attempt was made to repair the
small Mexican brig which had been cast away in a SOUTH-EASTER, and
which now lay up, high and dry, over one reef of rocks and two
sand-banks.  Our carpenter surveyed her, and pronounced her capable of
refitting, and in a few days the owners came down from the Pueblo, and,
waiting for the high spring tides, with the help of our cables, kedges,
and crew, got her off and afloat, after several trials.  The three men
at the house on shore, who had formerly been a part of her crew, now
joined her, and seemed glad enough at the prospect of getting off the
coast.

On board our own vessel, things went on in the common monotonous way.
The excitement which immediately followed the flogging scene had passed
off, but the effect of it upon the crew, and especially upon the two
men themselves, remained.  The different manner in which these men were
affected, corresponding to their different characters, was not a little
remarkable.  John was a foreigner and high-tempered, and, though
mortified, as any one would be at having had the worst of an encounter,
yet his chief feeling seemed to be anger; and he talked much of
satisfaction and revenge, if he ever got back to Boston.  But with the
other, it was very different. He was an American, and had had some
education; and this thing coming upon him, seemed completely to break
him down.  He had a feeling of the degradation that had been inflicted
upon him, which the other man was incapable of.  Before that, he had a
good deal of fun, and mused us often with queer <DW64> stories,--(he was
from a slave state); but afterwards he seldom smiled; seemed to lose
all life and elasticity; and appeared to have but one wish, and that
was for the voyage to be at an end.  I have often known him to draw a
long sigh when he was alone, and he took but little part or interest in
John's plans of satisfaction and retaliation.

After a stay of about a fortnight, during which we slipped for one
SOUTH-EASTER, and were at sea two days, we got under weigh for Santa
Barbara.  It was now the middle of April, and the SOUTH-EASTER season
was nearly over; and the light, regular trade-winds, which blow down
the coast, began to set steadily in, during the latter part of each
day.  Against these, we beat slowly up to Santa Barbara--a distance of
about ninety miles--in three days.  There we found, lying at anchor,
the large Genoese ship which we saw in the same place, on the first day
of our coming upon the coast.  She had been up to San Francisco, or, as
it is called, "chock up to windward," had stopped at Monterey on her
way down, and was shortly to proceed to San Pedro and San Diego, and
thence, taking in her cargo, to sail for Valparaiso and Cadiz.  She was
a large, clumsy ship, and with her topmasts stayed forward, and high
poop-deck, looked like an old woman with a crippled back.  It was now
the close of Lent, and on Good Friday she had all her yards
a'cock-bill, which is customary among Catholic vessels.  Some also have
an effigy of Judas, which the crew amuse themselves with keel-hauling
and hanging by the neck from the yard-arms.


[1] Soger (soldier) is the worst term of reproach that can be applied
to a sailor.  It signifies a skulk, a sherk,--one who is always trying
to get clear of work, and is out of the way, or hanging back, when duty
is to be done.  "Marine" is the term applied more particularly to a man
who is ignorant and clumsy about seaman's work--a green-horn--a
land-lubber.  To make a sailor shoulder a handspike, and walk fore and
aft the deck, like a sentry, is the most ignominious punishment that
could be put upon him.  Such a punishment inflicted upon an able seaman
in a vessel of war, would break his spirit down more than a flogging.




CHAPTER XVIII

EASTER SUNDAY--"SAIL HO!"--WHALES--SAN JUAN--ROMANCE OF
HIDE-DROGHING--SAN DIEGO AGAIN

The next Sunday was Easter Sunday, and as there had been no liberty at
San Pedro, it was our turn to go ashore and misspend another Sabbath.
Soon after breakfast, a large boat, filled with men in blue jackets,
scarlet caps, and various  under-clothes, bound ashore on
liberty, left the Italian ship, and passed under our stern; the men
singing beautiful Italian boat-songs, all the way, in fine, full
chorus.  Among the songs I recognized the favorite "O Pescator dell'
onda."  It brought back to my mind pianofortes, drawing-rooms, young
ladies singing, and a thousand other things which as little befitted
me, in my situation, to be thinking upon. Supposing that the whole day
would be too long a time to spend ashore, as there was no place to
which we could take a ride, we remained quietly on board until after
dinner.  We were then pulled ashore in the stern of the boat, and, with
orders to be on the beach at sundown, we took our way for the town.
There, everything wore the appearance of a holyday.  The people were
all dressed in their best; the men riding about on horseback among the
houses, and the women sitting on carpets before the doors. Under the
piazza of a "pulperia," two men were seated, decked out with knots of
ribbons and bouquets, and playing the violin and the Spanish guitar.
These are the only instruments, with the exception of the drums and
trumpets at Monterey that I ever heard in California; and I suspect
they play upon no others, for at a great fandango at which I was
afterwards present, and where they mustered all the music they could
find, there were three violins and two guitars, and no other
instrument.  As it was now too near the middle of the day to see any
dancing and hearing that a bull was expected down from the country, to
be baited in the presidio square, in the course of an hour or two we
took a stroll among the houses. Inquiring for an American who, we had
been told, had married in the place, and kept a shop, we were directed
to a long, low building, at the end of which was a door, with a sign
over it, in Spanish. Entering the shop, we found no one in it, and the
whole had an empty, deserted appearance.  In a few minutes the man made
his appearance, and apologized for having nothing to entertain us with,
saying that he had had a fandango at his house the night before, and
the people had eaten and drunk up everything.

"Oh yes!" said I, "Easter holydays?"

"No!" said he, with a singular expression to his face; "I had a little
daughter die the other day, and that's the custom of the country."

Here I felt a little strangely, not knowing what to say, or whether to
offer consolation or no, and was beginning to retire, when he opened a
side door and told us to walk in.  Here I was no less astonished; for I
found a large room, filled with young girls, from three or four years
of age up to fifteen and sixteen, dressed all in white, with wreaths of
flowers on their heads, and bouquets in their hands.  Following our
conductor through all these girls, who were playing about in high
spirits, we came to a table, at the end of the room, covered with a
white cloth, on which lay a coffin, about three feet long, with the
body of his child.  The coffin was lined on the outside with white
cloth, and on the inside with white satin, and was strewed with
flowers.  Through an open door we saw, in another room, a few elderly
people in common dresses; while the benches and tables thrown up in a
corner, and the stained walls, gave evident signs of the last night's
"high go."  Feeling, like Garrick, between tragedy and comedy, an
uncertainty of purpose and a little awkwardness, I asked the man when
the funeral would take place, and being told that it would move toward
the mission in about an hour, took my leave.

To pass away the time, we took horses and rode down to the beach, and
there found three or four Italian sailors, mounted, and riding up and
down, on the hard sand, at a furious rate.  We joined them, and found
it fine sport.  The beach gave us a stretch of a mile or more, and the
horses flew over the smooth, hard sand, apparently invigorated and
excited by the salt sea-breeze, and by the continual roar and dashing
of the breakers.  From the beach we returned to the town, and finding
that the funeral procession had moved, rode on and overtook it, about
half-way to the mission.  Here was as peculiar a sight as we had seen
before in the house; the one looking as much like a funeral procession
as the other did like a house of mourning.  The little coffin was borne
by eight girls, who were continually relieved by others, running
forward from the procession and taking their places.  Behind it came a
straggling company of girls, dressed as before, in white and flowers,
and including, I should suppose by their numbers, nearly all the girls
between five and fifteen in the place.  They played along on the way,
frequently stopping and running all together to talk to some one, or to
pick up a flower, and then running on again to overtake the coffin.
There were a few elderly women in common colors; and a herd of young
men and boys, some on foot and others mounted, followed them, or walked
or rode by their side, frequently interrupting them by jokes and
questions. But the most singular thing of all was, that two men walked,
one on each side of the coffin, carrying muskets in their hands, which
they continually loaded, and fired into the air.  Whether this was to
keep off the evil spirits or not, I do not know. It was the only
interpretation that I could put upon it.

As we drew near the mission, we saw the great gate thrown open, and the
padre standing on the steps, with a crucifix in hand. The mission is a
large and deserted-looking place, the out-buildings going to ruin, and
everything giving one the impression of decayed grandeur.  A large
stone fountain threw out pure water, from four mouths, into a basin,
before the church door; and we were on the point of riding up to let
our horses drink, when it occurred to us that it might be consecrated,
and we forbore.  Just at this moment, the bells set up their harsh,
discordant clang; and the procession moved into the court.  I was
anxious to follow, and see the ceremony, but the horse of one of my
companions had become frightened, and was tearing off toward the town;
and having thrown his rider, and got one of his feet caught in the
saddle, which had slipped, was fast dragging and ripping it to pieces.
Knowing that my shipmate could not speak a word of Spanish, and fearing
that he would get into difficulty, I was obliged to leave the ceremony
and ride after him.  I soon overtook him, trudging along, swearing at
the horse, and carrying the remains of the saddle, which he had picked
up on the road.  Going to the owner of the horse, we made a settlement
with him, and found him surprisingly liberal.  All parts of the saddle
were brought back, and, being capable of repair, he was satisfied with
six reals.  We thought it would have been a few dollars.  We pointed to
the horse, which was now half way up one of the mountains; but he shook
his head, saying, "No importe!" and giving us to understand that he had
plenty more.

Having returned to the town, we saw a great crowd collected in the
square before the principal pulperia, and riding up, found that all
these people--men, women, and children--had been drawn together by a
couple of bantam cocks.  The cocks were in full tilt, springing into
one another, and the people were as eager, laughing and shouting, as
though the combatants had been men.  There had been a disappointment
about the bull; he had broken his bail, and taken himself off, and it
was too late to get another; so the people were obliged to put up with
a cock-fight.  One of the bantams having been knocked in the head, and
had an eye put out, he gave in, and two monstrous prize-cocks were
brought on.  These were the object of the whole affair; the two bantams
having been merely served up as a first course, to collect the people
together.  Two fellows came into the ring holding the cocks in their
arms, and stroking them, and running about on all fours, encouraging
and setting them on. Bets ran high, and, like most other contests, it
remained for some time undecided.  They both showed great pluck, and
fought probably better and longer than their masters would have done.
Whether, in the end, it was the white or the red that beat, I do not
recollect; but, whichever it was, he strutted off with the true
veni-vidi-vici look, leaving the other lying panting on his beam-ends.

This matter having been settled, we heard some talk about "caballos"
and "carrera" and seeing the people all streaming off in one direction,
we followed, and came upon a level piece of ground, just out of the
town, which was used as a race-course.  Here the crowd soon became
thick again; the ground was marked off; the judges stationed; and the
horses led up to one end.  Two fine-looking old gentlemen--Don Carlos
and Don Domingo, so called--held the stakes, and all was now ready.  We
waited some time, during which we could just see the horses twisting
round and turning, until, at length, there was a shout along the lines,
and on they came--heads stretched out and eyes starting;--working all
over, both man and beast. The steeds came by us like a couple of
chain-shot--neck and neck; and now we could see nothing but their
backs, and their hind hoofs flying in the air.  As fast as the horses
passed, the crowd broke up behind them, and ran to the goal.  When we
got there, we found the horses returning on a slow walk, having run far
beyond the mark, and heard that the long, bony one had come in head and
shoulders before the other.  The riders were light-built men; had
handkerchiefs tied round their heads; and were bare-armed and
bare-legged. The horses were noble-looking beasts, not so sleek and
combed as our Boston stable-horses, but with fine limbs, and spirited
eyes. After this had been settled, and fully talked over, the crowd
scattered again and flocked back to the town.

Returning to the large pulperia, we found the violin and guitar
screaming and twanging away under the piazza, where they had been all
day.  As it was now sundown, there began to be some dancing.  The
Italian sailors danced, and one of our crew exhibited himself in a sort
of West India shuffle, much to the amusement of the bystanders, who
cried out, "Bravo!" "Otra vez!" and "Vivan los marineros!" but the
dancing did not become general, as the women and the "gente de razon"
had not yet made their appearance. We wished very much to stay and see
the style of dancing; but, although we had had our own way during the
day, yet we were, after all, but 'foremast Jacks; and having been
ordered to be on the beach by sundown, did not venture to be more than
an hour behind the time; so we took our way down.  We found the boat
just pulling ashore through the breakers, which were running high,
there having been a heavy fog outside, which, from some cause or other,
always brings on, or precedes a heavy sea.  Liberty-men are privileged
from the time they leave the vessel until they step on board again; so
we took our places in the stern sheets, and were congratulating
ourselves upon getting off dry, when a great comber broke fore and aft
the boat, and wet us through and through, filling the boat half full of
water.  Having lost her buoyancy by the weight of the water, she
dropped heavily into every sea that struck her, and by the time we had
pulled out of the surf into deep water, she was but just afloat, and we
were up to our knees.  By the help of a small bucket and our hats, we
bailed her out, got on board, hoisted the boats, eat our supper,
changed our clothes, gave (as is usual) the whole history of our day's
adventures to those who had staid on board, and having taken a
night-smoke, turned-in.  Thus ended our second day's liberty on shore.

On Monday morning, as an offset to our day's sport, we were all set to
work "tarring down" the rigging.  Some got girt-lines up for riding
down the stays and back-stays, and others tarred the shrouds, lifts,
etc., laying out on the yards, and coming down the rigging.  We
overhauled our bags and took out our old tarry trowsers and frocks,
which we had used when we tarred down before, and were all at work in
the rigging by sunrise.  After breakfast, we had the satisfaction of
seeing the Italian ship's boat go ashore, filled with men, gaily
dressed, as on the day before, and singing their barcarollas.  The
Easter holydays are kept up on shore during three days; and being a
Catholic vessel, the crew had the advantage of them.  For two
successive days, while perched up in the rigging, covered with tar and
engaged in our disagreeable work, we saw these fellows going ashore in
the morning, and coming off again at night, in high spirits.  So much
for being Protestants.  There's no danger of Catholicism's spreading in
New England; Yankees can't afford the time to be Catholics.  American
shipmasters get nearly three weeks more labor out of their crews, in
the course of a year, than the masters of vessels from Catholic
countries.  Yankees don't keep Christmas, and ship-masters at sea never
know when Thanksgiving comes, so Jack has no festival at all.

About noon, a man aloft called out "Sail ho!" and looking round, we saw
the head sails of a vessel coming round the point.  As she drew round,
she showed the broadside of a full-rigged brig, with the Yankee ensign
at her peak.  We ran up our stars and stripes, and, knowing that there
was no American brig on the coast but ourselves, expected to have news
from home.  She rounded-to and let go her anchor, but the dark faces on
her yards, when they furled the sails, and the Babel on deck, soon made
known that she was from the Islands. Immediately afterwards, a boat's
crew came aboard, bringing her skipper, and from them we learned that
she was from Oahu, and was engaged in the same trade with the Ayacucho,
Loriotte, etc., between the coast, the Sandwich Islands, and the
leeward coast of Peru and Chili. Her captain and officers were
Americans, and also a part of her crew; the rest were Islanders.  She
was called the Catalina, and, like all the others vessels in that
trade, except the Ayacucho, her papers and colors were from Uncle Sam.
They, of course, brought us no news, and we were doubly disappointed,
for we had thought, at first, it might be the ship which we were
expecting from Boston.

After lying here about a fortnight, and collecting all the hides the
place afforded, we set sail again for San Pedro.  There we found the
brig which we had assisted in getting off lying at anchor, with a mixed
crew of Americans, English, Sandwich Islanders, Spaniards, and Spanish
Indians; and, though much smaller than we, yet she had three times the
number of men; and she needed them, for her officers were Californians.
No vessels in the world go so poorly manned as American and English;
and none do so well. A Yankee brig of that size would have had a crew
of four men, and would have worked round and round her.  The Italian
ship had a crew of thirty men; nearly three times as many as the Alert,
which was afterwards on the coast, and was of the same size; yet the
Alert would get under weigh and come-to in half the time, and get two
anchors, while they were all talking at once--jabbering like a parcel
of "Yahoos," and running about decks to find their cat-block.

There was only one point in which they had the advantage over us, and
that was in lightening their labors in the boats by their songs. The
Americans are a time and money saving people, but have not yet, as a
nation, learned that music may be "turned to account."  We pulled the
long distances to and from the shore, with our loaded boats, without a
word spoken, and with discontented looks, while they not only lightened
the labor of rowing, but actually made it pleasant and cheerful, by
their music.  So true is it, that--

  "For the tired slave, song lifts the languid oar,
    And bids it aptly fall, with chime
  That beautifies the fairest shore,
    And mitigates the harshest clime."

We lay about a week in San Pedro, and got under weigh for San Diego,
intending to stop at San Juan, as the SOUTH-EASTER season was nearly
over, and there was little or no danger.

This being the spring season, San Pedro, as well as all the other open
ports upon the coast, was filled with whales, that had come in to make
their annual visit upon soundings.  For the first few days that we were
here and at Santa Barbara, we watched them with great interest--calling
out "there she blows!" every time we saw the spout of one breaking the
surface of the water; but they soon became so common that we took
little notice of them.  They often "broke" very near us; and one thick,
foggy night, during a dead calm, while I was standing anchor-watch, one
of them rose so near, that he struck our cable, and made all surge
again.  He did not seem to like the encounter much himself, for he
sheered off, and spouted at a good distance.  We once came very near
running one down in the gig, and should probably have been knocked to
pieces and blown sky-high.  We had been on board the little Spanish
brig, and were returning, stretching out well at our oars, the little
boat going like a swallow; our backs were forward, (as is always the
case in pulling,) and the captain, who was steering, was not looking
ahead, when, all at once, we heard the spout of a whale directly ahead.
"Back water! back water, for your lives!" shouted the captain; and we
backed our blades in the water and brought the boat to in a smother of
foam.  Turning our heads, we saw a great, rough, hump-backed whale,
slowly crossing our fore foot, within three or four yards of the boat's
stem.  Had we not backed water just as we did, we should inevitably
have gone smash upon him, striking him with our stem just about
amidships.  He took no notice of us, but passed slowly on, and dived a
few yards beyond us, throwing his tail high in the air. He was so near
that we had a perfect view of him and as may be supposed, had no desire
to see him nearer.  He was a disgusting creature; with a skin rough,
hairy, and of an iron-grey color. This kind differs much from the
sperm, in color and skin, and is said to be fiercer.  We saw a few
sperm whales; but most of the whales that come upon the coast are
fin-backs, hump-backs, and right-whales, which are more difficult to
take, and are said not to give oil enough to pay for the trouble.  For
this reason whale-ships do not come upon the coast after them.  Our
captain, together with Captain Nye of the Loriotte, who had been in a
whale-ship, thought of making an attempt upon one of them with two
boats' crews, but as we had only two harpoons and no proper lines, they
gave it up.

During the months of March, April, and May, these whales appear in
great numbers in the open ports of Santa Barbara, San Pedro, etc., and
hover off the coast, while a few find their way into the close harbors
of San Diego and Monterey.  They are all off again before midsummer,
and make their appearance on the "off-shore ground."  We saw some fine
"schools" of sperm whales, which are easily distinguished by their
spout, blowing away, a few miles to windward, on our passage to San
Juan.

Coasting along on the quiet shore of the Pacific, we came to anchor, in
twenty fathoms' water, almost out at sea, as it were, and directly
abreast of a steep hill which overhung the water, and was twice as high
as our royal-mast-head.  We had heard much of this place, from the
Lagoda's crew, who said it was the worst place in California. The shore
is rocky, and directly exposed to the south-east, so that vessels are
obliged to slip and run for their lives on the first sign of a gale;
and late as it was in the season, we got up our slip-rope and gear,
though we meant to stay only twenty-four hours. We pulled the agent
ashore, and were ordered to wait for him, while he took a circuitous
way round the hill to the mission, which was hidden behind it.  We were
glad of the opportunity to examine this singular place, and hauling the
boat up and making her well fast, took different directions up and down
the beach, to explore it.

San Juan is the only romantic spot in California.  The country here for
several miles is high table-land, running boldly to the shore, and
breaking off in a steep hill, at the foot of which the waters of the
Pacific are constantly dashing.  For several miles the water washes the
very base of the hill, or breaks upon ledges and fragments of rocks
which run out into the sea.  Just where we landed was a small cove, or
"bight," which gave us, at high tide, a few square feet of sand-beach
between the sea and the bottom of the hill.  This was the only
landing-place.  Directly before us, rose the perpendicular height of
four or five hundred feet.  How we were to get hides down, or goods up,
upon the table-land on which the mission was situated, was more than we
could tell.  The agent had taken a long circuit, and yet had frequently
to jump over breaks, and climb up steep places, in the ascent.  No
animal but a man or monkey could get up it.  However, that was not our
look-out; and knowing that the agent would be gone an hour or more, we
strolled about, picking up shells, and following the sea where it
tumbled in, roaring and spouting, among the crevices of the great
rocks.  What a sight, thought I, must this be in a SOUTH-EASTER! The
rocks were as large as those of Nahant or Newport, but, to my eye, more
grand and broken.  Beside, there was a grandeur in everything around,
which gave almost a solemnity to the scene: a silence and solitariness
which affected everything! Not a human being but ourselves for miles;
and no sound heard but the pulsations of the great Pacific! and the
great steep hill rising like a wall, and cutting us off from all the
world, but the "world of waters!"  I separated myself from the rest and
sat down on a rock, just where the sea ran in and formed a fine
spouting horn. Compared with the plain, dull sand-beach of the rest of
the coast, this grandeur was as refreshing as a great rock in a weary
land. It was almost the first time that I had been positively
alone--free from the sense that human beings were at my elbow, if not
talking with me--since I had left home.  My better nature returned
strong upon me.  Everything was in accordance with my state of feeling,
and I experienced a glow of pleasure at finding that what of poetry and
romance I ever had in me, had not been entirely deadened by the
laborious and frittering life I had led.  Nearly an hour did I sit,
almost lost in the luxury of this entire new scene of the play in which
I had been so long acting, when I was aroused by the distant shouts of
my companions, and saw that they were collecting together, as the agent
had made his appearance, on his way back to our boat.

We pulled aboard, and found the long-boat hoisted out, and nearly laden
with goods; and after dinner, we all went on shore in the quarter-boat,
with the long-boat in tow.  As we drew in, we found an ox-cart and a
couple of men standing directly on the brow of the hill; and having
landed, the captain took his way round the hill, ordering me and one
other to follow him.  We followed, picking our way out, and jumping and
scrambling up, walking over briers and prickly pears, until we came to
the top.  Here the country stretched out for miles as far as the eye
could reach, on a level, table surface; and the only habitation in
sight was the small white mission of San Juan Capistrano, with a few
Indian huts about it, standing in a small hollow, about a mile from
where we were.  Reaching the brow of the hill where the cart stood, we
found several piles of hides, and Indians sitting round them.  One or
two other carts were coming slowly on from the mission, and the captain
told us to begin and throw the hides down.  This, then, was the way
they were to be got down: thrown down, one at a time, a distance of
four hundred feet! This was doing the business on a great scale.
Standing on the edge of the hill and looking down the perpendicular
height, the sailors,

  --"That walk upon the beach,
  Appeared like mice; and our tall anchoring bark
  Diminished to her cock; her cock a buoy
  Almost too small for sight."

Down this height we pitched the hides, throwing them as far out into
the air as we could; and as they were all large, stiff, and doubled,
like the cover of a book, the wind took them, and they swayed and
eddied about, plunging and rising in the air, like a kite when it has
broken its string.  As it was now low tide, there was no danger of
their falling into the water, and as fast as they came to ground, the
men below picked them up, and taking them on their heads, walked off
with them to the boat.  It was really a picturesque sight: the great
height; the scaling of the hides; and the continual walking to and fro
of the men, who looked like mites, on the beach! This was the romance
of hide-droghing!

Some of the hides lodged in cavities which were under the bank and out
of our sight, being directly under us; but by sending others down in
the same direction, we succeeded in dislodging them.  Had they remained
there, the captain said he should have sent on board for a couple of
pairs of long halyards, and got some one to have gone down for them.
It was said that one of the crew of an English brig went down in the
same way, a few years before.  We looked over, and thought it would not
be a welcome task, especially for a few paltry hides; but no one knows
what he can do until he is called upon; for, six months afterwards, I
went down the same place by a pair of top-gallant studding-sail
halyards, to save a half a dozen hides which had lodged there.

Having thrown them all down, we took our way back again, and found the
boat loaded and ready to start.  We pulled off; took the hides all
aboard; hoisted in the boats; hove up our anchor; made sail; and before
sundown, were on our way to San Diego.

Friday, May 8th, 1835.  Arrived at San Diego.  Here we found the little
harbor deserted.  The Lagoda, Ayacucho, Loriotte, and all, had left the
coast, and we were nearly alone.  All the hide-houses on the beach, but
ours, were shut up, and the Sandwich Islanders, a dozen or twenty in
number, who had worked for the other vessels and been paid off when
they sailed, were living on the beach, keeping up a grand carnival.  A
Russian discovery-ship which had been in this port a few years before,
had built a large oven for baking bread, and went away, leaving it
standing.  This, the Sandwich Islanders took possession of, and had
kept, ever since, undisturbed.  It was big enough to hold six or eight
men--that is, it was as large as a ship's forecastle; had a door at the
side, and a vent-hole at top.  They covered it with Oahu mats, for a
carpet; stopped up the vent-hole in bad weather, and made it their
head-quarters.  It was now inhabited by as many as a dozen or twenty
men, who lived there in complete idleness--drinking, playing cards, and
carousing in every way.  They bought a bullock once a week, which kept
them in meat, and one of them went up to the town every day to get
fruit, liquor, and provisions.  Besides this, they had bought a cask of
ship-bread, and a barrel of flour from the Lagoda, before she sailed.
There they lived, having a grand time, and caring for nobody.  Captain
T---- was anxious to get three or four of them to come on board the
Pilgrim, as we were so much diminished in numbers; and went up to the
oven and spent an hour or two trying to negotiate with them.  One of
them,--a finely built, active, strong and intelligent fellow,-- who was
a sort of king among them, acted as spokesman.  He was called
Mannini,--or rather, out of compliment to his known importance and
influence, Mr. Mannini--and was known all over California. Through him,
the captain offered them fifteen dollars a month, and one month's pay
in advance; but it was like throwing pearls before swine, or rather,
carrying coals to Newcastle.  So long as they had money, they would not
work for fifty dollars a month, and when their money was gone, they
would work for ten.

"What do you do here, Mr. Mannini?"[1] said the captain.

"Oh, we play cards, get drunk, smoke--do anything we're a mind to."

"Don't you want to come aboard and work?"

"Aole! aole make make makou i ka hana.  Now, got plenty money; no good,
work.  Mamule, money pau--all gone.  Ah! very good, work!--maikai, hana
hana nui!"

"But you'll spend all your money in this way," said the captain.

"Aye! me know that.  By-'em-by money pau--all gone; then Kanaka work
plenty."

This was a hopeless case, and the captain left them, to wait patiently
until their money was gone.

We discharged our hides and tallow, and in about a week were ready to
set sail again for the windward.  We unmoored, and got everything
ready, when the captain made another attempt upon the oven.  This time
he had more regard to the "mollia tempora fandi," and succeeded very
well.  He got Mr. Mannini in his interest, and as the shot was getting
low in the locker, prevailed upon him and three others to come on board
with their chests and baggage, and sent a hasty summons to me and the
boy to come ashore with our things, and join the gang at the
hide-house.  This was unexpected to me; but anything in the way of
variety I liked; so we got ready, and were pulled ashore.  I stood on
the beach while the brig got under weigh, and watched her until she
rounded the point, and then went up to the hide-house to take up my
quarters for a few months.


[1] The letter i in the Sandwich Island language is sounded like e in
the English.




CHAPTER XIX

THE SANDWICH ISLANDERS--HIDE-CURING--WOOD-CUTTING--RATTLE-
SNAKES--NEW-COMERS

Here was a change in my life as complete as it had been sudden. In the
twinkling of an eye, I was transformed from a sailor into a
"beach-comber" and a hide-curer; yet the novelty and the comparative
independence of the life were not unpleasant.  Our hide-house was a
large building, made of rough boards, and intended to hold forty
thousand hides.  In one corner of it, a small room was parted off, in
which four berths were made, where we were to live, with mother earth
for our floor.  It contained a table, a small locker for pots, spoons,
plates, etc., and a small hole cut to let in the light. Here we put our
chests, threw our bedding into the berths, and took up our quarters.
Over our head was another small room, in which Mr. Russell lived, who
had charge of the hide-house; the same man who was for a time an
officer of the Pilgrim.  There he lived in solitary grandeur; eating
and sleeping alone, (and these were his principal occupations,) and
communing with his own dignity. The boy was to act as cook; while
myself, a giant of a Frenchman named Nicholas, and four Sandwich
Islanders, were to cure the hides. Sam, the Frenchman, and myself,
lived together in the room, and the four Sandwich Islanders worked and
ate with us, but generally slept at the oven.  My new messmate,
Nicholas, was the most immense man that I had ever seen in my life.  He
came on the coast in a vessel which was afterwards wrecked, and now let
himself out to the different houses to cure hides.  He was considerably
over six feet, and of a frame so large that he might have been shown
for a curiosity.  But the most remarkable thing about him was his feet.
They were so large that he could not find a pair of shoes in California
to fit him, and was obliged to send to Oahu for a pair; and when he got
them, he was compelled to wear them down at the heel.  He told me once,
himself, that he was wrecked in an American brig on the Goodwin Sands,
and was sent up to London, to the charge of the American consul,
without clothing to his back or shoes to his feet, and was obliged to
go about London streets in his stocking feet three or four days, in the
month of January, until the consul could have a pair of shoes made for
him.  His strength was in proportion to his size, and his ignorance to
his strength--"strong as an ox, and ignorant as strong."  He neither
knew how to read nor write.  He had been to sea from a boy, and had
seen all kinds of service, and been in every kind of vessel:
merchantmen, men-of-war, privateers, and slavers; and from what I could
gather from his accounts of himself, and from what he once told me, in
confidence, after we had become better acquainted, he had even been in
worse business than slave-trading.  He was once tried for his life in
Charleston, South Carolina, and though acquitted, yet he was so
frightened that he never would show himself in the United States again;
and I could not persuade him that he could never be tried a second time
for the same offence.  He said he had got safe off from the breakers,
and was too good a sailor to risk his timbers again.

Though I knew what his life had been, yet I never had the slightest
fear of him.  We always got along very well together, and, though so
much stronger and larger than I, he showed a respect for my education,
and for what he had heard of my situation before coming to sea.  "I'll
be good friends with you," he used to say, "for by-and-by you'll come
out here captain, and then you'll haze me well!"  By holding well
together, we kept the officer in good order, for he was evidently
afraid of Nicholas, and never ordered us, except when employed upon the
hides.  My other companions, the Sandwich Islanders, deserve particular
notice.

A considerable trade has been carried on for several years between
California and the Sandwich Islands, and most of the vessels are manned
with Islanders; who, as they, for the most part, sign no articles,
leave whenever they choose, and let themselves out to cure hides at San
Diego, and to supply the places of the men of the American vessels
while on the coast.  In this way, quite a colony of them had become
settled at San Diego, as their headquarters. Some of these had recently
gone off in the Ayacucho and Loriotte, and the Pilgrim had taken Mr.
Mannini and three others, so that there were not more than twenty left.
Of these, four were on pay at the Ayacucho's house, four more working
with us, and the rest were living at the oven in a quiet way; for their
money was nearly gone, and they must make it last until some other
vessel came down to employ them.

During the four months that I lived here, I got well acquainted with
all of them, and took the greatest pains to become familiar with their
language, habits, and characters.  Their language, I could only learn,
orally, for they had not any books among them, though many of them had
been taught to read and write by the missionaries at home.  They spoke
a little English, and by a sort of compromise, a mixed language was
used on the beach, which could be understood by all.  The long name of
Sandwich Islanders is dropped, and they are called by the whites, all
over the Pacific ocean, "Kanakas," from a word in their own language
which they apply to themselves, and to all South Sea Islanders, in
distinction from whites, whom they call "Haole."  This name, "Kanaka,"
they answer to, both collectively and individually.  Their proper
names, in their own language, being difficult to pronounce and
remember, they are called by any names which the captains or crews may
choose to give them.  Some are called after the vessel they are in;
others by common names, as Jack, Tom, Bill; and some have fancy names,
as Ban-yan, Fore-top, Rope-yarn, Pelican, etc., etc.  Of the four who
worked at our house one was named "Mr. Bingham," after the missionary
at Oahu; another, Hope, after a vessel that he had been in; a third,
Tom Davis, the name of his first captain; and the fourth, Pelican, from
his fancied resemblance to that bird.  Then there was Lagoda-Jack,
California-Bill, etc., etc.  But by whatever names they might be
called, they were the most interesting, intelligent, and kind-hearted
people that I ever fell in with.  I felt a positive attachment for
almost all of them; and many of them I have, to this time, a feeling
for, which would lead me to go a great way for the mere pleasure of
seeing them, and which will always make me feel a strong interest in
the mere name of a Sandwich Islander.

Tom Davis knew how to read, write, and cipher in common arithmetic; had
been to the United States, and spoke English quite well. His education
was as good as that of three-quarters of the Yankees in California, and
his manners and principles a good deal better, and he was so quick of
apprehension that he might have been taught navigation, and the
elements of many of the sciences, with the most perfect ease.  Old "Mr.
Bingham" spoke very little English--almost none, and neither knew how
to read nor write; but he was the best-hearted old fellow in the world.
He must have been over fifty years of age, and had two of his front
teeth knocked out, which was done by his parents as a sign of grief at
the death of Kamehameha, the great king of the Sandwich Islands.  We
used to tell him that he ate Captain Cook, and lost his teeth in that
way.  That was the only thing that ever made him angry.  He would
always be quite excited at that; and say--"Aole!" (no.)  "Me no eat
Captain Cook!  Me pikinini--small--so high--no more!  My father see
Captain Cook! Me--no!"  None of them liked to have anything said about
Captain Cook, for the sailors all believe that he was eaten, and that,
they cannot endure to be taunted with.--"New Zealand Kanaka eat white
man;--Sandwich Island Kanaka--no.  Sandwich Island Kanaka ua like pu na
haole--all 'e same a' you!"

Mr. Bingham was a sort of patriarch among them, and was always treated
with great respect, though he had not the education and energy which
gave Mr. Mannini his power over them.  I have spent hours in talking
with this old fellow about Kamehameha, the Charlemagne of the Sandwich
Islands; his son and successor Riho Riho, who died in England, and was
brought to Oahu in the frigate Blonde, Captain Lord Byron, and whose
funeral he remembered perfectly; and also about the customs of his
country in his boyhood, and the changes which had been made by the
missionaries.  He never would allow that human beings had been eaten
there; and, indeed, it always seemed like an insult to tell so
affectionate, intelligent, and civilized a class of men, that such
barbarities had been practised in their own country within the
recollection of many of them.  Certainly, the history of no people on
the globe can show anything like so rapid an advance.  I would have
trusted my life and my fortune in the hands of any one of these people;
and certainly had I wished for a favor or act of sacrifice, I would
have gone to them all, in turn, before I should have applied to one of
my own countrymen on the coast, and should have expected to have seen
it done, before my own countrymen had got half through counting the
cost. Their costumes, and manner of treating one another, show a
simple, primitive generosity, which is truly delightful; and which is
often a reproach to our own people.  Whatever one has, they all have.
Money, food, clothes, they share with one another; even to the last
piece of tobacco to put in their pipes.  I once heard old Mr. Bingham
say, with the highest indignation, to a Yankee trader who was trying to
persuade him to keep his money to himself--"No! We no all 'e same a'
you!--Suppose one got money, all got money. You;--suppose one got
money--lock him up in chest.--No good!"--"Kanaka all 'e same a' one!"
This principle they carry so far, that none of them will eat anything
in the sight of others without offering it all round.  I have seen one
of them break a biscuit, which had been given him, into five parts, at
a time when I knew he was on a very short allowance, as there was but
little to eat on the beach.

My favorite among all of them, and one who was liked by both officers
and men, and by whomever he had anything to do with, was Hope. He was
an intelligent, kind-hearted little fellow, and I never saw him angry,
though I knew him for more than a year, and have seen him imposed upon
by white people, and abused by insolent officers of vessels.  He was
always civil, and always ready, and never forgot a benefit.  I once
took care of him when he was ill, getting medicines from the ship's
chests, when no captain or officer would do anything for him, and he
never forgot it.  Every Kanaka has one particular friend, whom he
considers himself bound to do everything for, and with whom he has a
sort of contract,--an alliance offensive and defensive,--and for whom
he will often make the greatest sacrifices.  This friend they call
aikane; and for such did Hope adopt me.  I do not believe I could have
wanted anything which he had, that he would not have given me.  In
return for this, I was always his friend among the Americans, and used
to teach him letters and numbers; for he left home before he had
learned how to read.  He was very curious about Boston (as they call
the United States); asking many questions about the houses, the people,
etc., and always wished to have the pictures in books explained to him.
They were all astonishingly quick in catching at explanations, and many
things which I had thought it utterly impossible to make them
understand, they often seized in an instant, and asked questions which
showed that they knew enough to make them wish to go farther.  The
pictures of steamboats and railroad cars, in the columns of some
newspapers which I had, gave me great difficulty to explain.  The
grading of the road, the rails, the construction of the carriages, they
could easily understand, but the motion produced by steam was a little
too refined for them.  I attempted to show it to them once by an
experiment upon the cook's coppers, but failed; probably as much from
my own ignorance as from their want of apprehension; and, I have no
doubt, left them with about as clear an idea of the principle as I had
myself.  This difficulty, of course, existed in the same force with the
steamboats and all I could do was to give them some account of the
results, in the shape of speed; for, failing in the reason, I had to
fall back upon the fact.  In my account of the speed I was supported by
Tom, who had been to Nantucket, and seen a little steamboat which ran
over to New Bedford.

A map of the world, which I once showed them, kept their attention for
hours; those who knew how to read pointing out the places and referring
to me for the distances.  I remember being much amused with a question
which Hope asked me.  Pointing to the large irregular place which is
always left blank round the poles, to denote that it is undiscovered,
he looked up and asked.--"Pau?" (Done? ended?)

The system of naming the streets and numbering the houses, they easily
understood, and the utility of it.  They had a great desire to see
America, but were afraid of doubling Cape Horn, for they suffer much in
cold weather, and had heard dreadful accounts of the Cape, from those
of their number who had been round it.

They smoke a great deal, though not much at a time; using pipes with
large bowls, and very short stems, or no stems at all.  These, they
light, and putting them to their mouths, take a long draught, getting
their mouths as full as they can hold, and their cheeks distended, and
then let it slowly out through their mouths and nostrils. The pipe is
then passed to others, who draw, in the same manner, one pipe-full
serving for half a dozen.  They never take short, continuous draughts,
like Europeans, but one of these "Oahu puffs," as the sailors call
them, serves for an hour or two, until some one else lights his pipe,
and it is passed round in the same manner. Each Kanaka on the beach had
a pipe, flint, steel, tinder, a hand of tobacco, and a jack-knife,
which he always carried about with him.

That which strikes a stranger most peculiarly is their style of
singing.  They run on, in a low, guttural, monotonous sort of chant,
their lips and tongues seeming hardly to move, and the sounds modulated
solely in the throat.  There is very little tune to it, and the words,
so far as I could learn, are extempore.  They sing about persons and
things which are around them, and adopt this method when they do not
wish to be understood by any but themselves; and it is very effectual,
for with the most careful attention I never could detect a word that I
knew.  I have often heard Mr. Mannini, who was the most noted
improvisatore among them, sing for an hour together, when at work in
the midst of Americans and Englishmen; and, by the occasional shouts
and laughter of the Kanakas, who were at a distance, it was evident
that he was singing about the different men that he was at work with.
They have great powers of ridicule, and are excellent mimics; many of
them discovering and imitating the peculiarities of our own people,
before we had seen them ourselves.

These were the people with whom I was to spend a few months; and who,
with the exception of the officer, Nicholas the Frenchman, and the boy,
made the whole population of the beach.  I ought, perhaps, to except
the dogs, for they were an important part of our settlement.  Some of
the first vessels brought dogs out with them, who, for convenience,
were left ashore, and there multiplied, until they came to be a great
people.  While I was on the beach, the average number was about forty,
and probably an equal, or greater number are drowned, or killed in some
other way, every year. They are very useful in guarding the beach, the
Indians being afraid to come down at night; for it was impossible for
any one to get within half a mile of the hide-houses without a general
alarm.  The father of the colony, old Sachem, so called from the ship
in which he was brought out, died while I was there, full of years, and
was honorably buried.  Hogs, and a few chickens, were the rest of the
animal tribe, and formed, like the dogs, a common company, though they
were all known and marked, and usually fed at the houses to which they
belonged.

I had been but a few hours on the beach, and the Pilgrim was hardly out
of sight, when the cry of "Sail ho!" was raised, and a small
hermaphrodite brig rounded the point, bore up into the harbor, and came
to anchor.  It was the Mexican brig Fazio, which we had left at San
Pedro, and which had come down to land her tallow, try it all over, and
make new bags, and then take it in, and leave the coast.  They moored
ship, erected their try-works on shore, put up a small tent, in which
they all lived, and commenced operations. They made an addition to our
society, and we spent many evenings in their tent, where, amid the
Babel of English, Spanish, French, Indian, and Kanaka, we found some
words that we could understand in common.

The morning after my landing, I began the duties of hide-curing. In
order to understand these, it will be necessary to give the whole
history of a hide, from the time it is taken from a bullock until it is
put on board the vessel to be carried to Boston.  When the hide is
taken from the bullock, holes are cut round it, near the edge, by which
it is staked out to dry.  In this manner it dries without shrinking.
After they are thus dried in the sun, they are received by the vessels,
and brought down to the depot at San Diego.  The vessels land them, and
leave them in large piles near the houses.

Then begins the hide-curer's duty.  The first thing is to put them in
soak.  This is done by carrying them down at low tide, and making them
fast, in small piles, by ropes, and letting the tide come up and cover
them.  Every day we put in soak twenty-five for each man, which, with
us, made an hundred and fifty.  There they lie forty-eight hours, when
they are taken out, and rolled up, in wheelbarrows, and thrown into the
vats.  These vats contain brine, made very strong; being sea-water,
with great quantities of salt thrown in.  This pickles the hides, and
in this they lie forty-eight hours; the use of the sea-water, into
which they are first put, being merely to soften and clean them.  From
these vats, they are taken, and lie on a platform twenty-four hours,
and then are spread upon the ground, and carefully stretched and staked
out, so that they may dry smooth. After they were staked, and while yet
wet and soft, we used to go upon them with our knives, and carefully
cut off all the bad parts:--the pieces of meat and fat, which would
corrupt and infect the whole if stowed away in a vessel for many
months, the large flippers, the ears, and all other parts which would
prevent close stowage. This was the most difficult part of our duty: as
it required much skill to take everything necessary off and not to cut
or injure the hide. It was also a long process, as six of us had to
clean an hundred and fifty, most of which required a great deal to be
done to them, as the Spaniards are very careless in skinning their
cattle.  Then, too, as we cleaned them while they were staked out, we
were obliged to kneel down upon them, which always gives beginners the
back-ache. The first day, I was so slow and awkward that I cleaned only
eight; at the end of a few days I doubled my number; and in a fortnight
or three weeks, could keep up with the others, and clean my
proportion--twenty-five.

This cleaning must be got through with before noon; for by that time
they get too dry.  After the sun has been upon them a few hours, they
are carefully gone over with scrapers, to get off all the grease which
the sun brings out.  This being done, the stakes are pulled up, and the
hides carefully doubled, with the hair side out, and left to dry.
About the middle of the afternoon they are turned upon the other side,
and at sundown piled up and covered over. The next day they are spread
out and opened again, and at night, if fully dry, are thrown upon a
long, horizontal pole, five at a time, and beat with flails.  This
takes all the dust from them. Then, being salted, scraped, cleaned,
dried, and beaten, they are stowed away in the house.  Here ends their
history, except that they are taken out again when the vessel is ready
to go home, beaten, stowed away on board, carried to Boston, tanned,
made into shoes and other articles for which leather is used; and many
of them, very probably, in the end, brought back again to California in
the shape of shoes, and worn out in pursuit of other bullocks, or in
the curing of other hides.

By putting an hundred and fifty in soak every day, we had the same
number at each stage of curing, on each day; so that we had, every day,
the same work to do upon the same number: an hundred and fifty to put
in soak; an hundred and fifty to wash out and put in the vat; the same
number to haul from the vat and put on the platform to drain; the same
number to spread and stake out and clean; and the same number to beat
and stow away in the home. I ought to except Sunday; for, by a
prescription which no captain or agent has yet ventured to break in
upon, Sunday has been a day of leisure on the beach for years.  On
Saturday night, the hides, in every stage of progress, are carefully
covered up, and not uncovered until Monday morning.  On Sundays we had
absolutely no work to do, unless it was to kill a bullock, which was
sent down for our use about once a week, and sometimes came on Sunday.
Another good arrangement was, that we had just so much work to do, and
when that was through, the time was our own.  Knowing this, we worked
hard, and needed no driving.  We "turned out" every morning at the
first signs of daylight, and allowing a short time, about eight
o'clock, for breakfast, generally got through our labor between one and
two o'clock, when we dined, and had the rest of the time to ourselves;
until just before sundown, when we beat the dry hides and put them in
the house, and covered over all the others. By this means we had about
three hours to ourselves every afternoon; and at sundown we had our
supper, and our work was done for the day. There was no watch to stand,
and no topsails to reef.  The evenings we generally spent at one
another's houses, and I often went up and spent an hour or so at the
oven; which was called the "Kanaka Hotel," and the "Oahu Coffee-house."
Immediately after dinner we usually took a short siesta to make up for
our early rising, and spent the rest of the afternoon according to our
own fancies.  I generally read, wrote, and made or mended clothes; for
necessity, the mother of invention, had taught me these two latter
arts.  The Kanakas went up to the oven, and spent the time in sleeping,
talking, and smoking; and my messmate, Nicholas, who neither knew how
to read or write, passed away the time by a long siesta, two or three
smokes with his pipe, and a paseo to the other houses.  This leisure
time is never interfered with, for the captains know that the men earn
it by working hard and fast, and that if they interfered with it, the
men could easily make their twenty-five hides apiece last through the
day.  We were pretty independent, too, for the master of the
house--"capitan de la casa"--had nothing to say to us, except when we
were at work on the hides, and although we could not go up to the town
without his permission, this was seldom or never refused.

The great weight of the wet hides, which we were obliged to roll about
in wheelbarrows; the continual stooping upon those which were pegged
out to be cleaned; and the smell of the vats, into which we were often
obliged to get, knee-deep, to press down the hides; all made the work
disagreeable and fatiguing;--but we soon got hardened to it, and the
comparative independence of our life reconciled us to it; for there was
nobody to haze us and find fault; and when we got through, we had only
to wash and change our clothes, and our time was our own.  There was,
however, one exception to the time's being our own; which was, that on
two afternoons of every week we were obliged to go off and get wood,
for the cook to use in the galley.  Wood is very scarce in the vicinity
of San Diego; there being no trees of any size, for miles.  In the
town, the inhabitants burn the small wood which grows in thickets, and
for which they send out Indians, in large numbers, every few days.
Fortunately, the climate is so fine that they had no need of a fire in
their houses, and only use it for cooking.  With us the getting of wood
was a great trouble; for all that in the vicinity of the houses had
been cut down, and we were obliged to go off a mile or two, and to
carry it some distance on our backs, as we could not get the hand-cart
up the hills and over the uneven places.  Two afternoons in the week,
generally Monday and Thursday, as soon as we had got through dinner, we
started off for the bush, each of us furnished with a hatchet and a
long piece of rope, and dragging the hand-cart behind us, and followed
by the whole colony of dogs, who were always ready for the bush, and
were half mad whenever they saw our preparations.  We went with the
hand-cart as far as we could conveniently drag it, and leaving it in an
open, conspicuous place, separated ourselves; each taking his own
course, and looking about for some good place to begin upon.
Frequently, we had to go nearly a mile from the hand-cart before we
could find any fit place. Having lighted upon a good thicket, the next
thing was to clear away the under-brush, and have fair play at the
trees.  These trees are seldom more than five or six feet high, and the
highest that I ever saw in these expeditions could not have been more
than twelve; so that, with lopping off the branches and clearing away
the underwood, we had a good deal of cutting to do for a very little
wood.  Having cut enough for a "back-load," the next thing was to make
it well fast with the rope, and heaving the bundle upon our backs, and
taking the hatchet in hand, to walk off, up hill and down dale, to the
hand-cart.  Two good back-loads apiece filled the hand-cart; and that
was each one's proportion.  When each had brought down his second load,
we filled the hand-cart, and took our way again slowly back, and
unloading, covering the hides for the night, and getting our supper,
finished the day's work.

These wooding excursions had always a mixture of something rather
pleasant in them.  Roaming about in the woods with hatchet in hand,
like a backwoodsman, followed by a troop of dogs; starting up of birds,
snakes, hares and foxes, and examining the various kinds of trees,
flowers, and birds' nests, was at least, a change from the monotonous
drag and pull on shipboard.  Frequently, too, we had some amusement and
adventure.  The coati, of which I have before spoken,--a sort of
mixture of the fox and wolf breeds,--fierce little animals, with bushy
tails and large heads, and a quick, sharp bark, abound here, as in all
other parts of California.  These, the dogs were very watchful for, and
whenever they saw them, started off in full run after them.  We had
many fine chases; yet, although our dogs ran finely, the rascals
generally escaped. They are a match for the dog,---one to one,--but as
the dogs generally went in squads, there was seldom a fair fight.  A
smaller dog, belonging to us, once attacked a coati, single, and got a
good deal worsted, and might perhaps have been killed had we not come
to his assistance.  We had, however, one dog which gave them a good
deal of trouble, and many hard runs.  He was a fine, tall fellow, and
united strength and agility better than any dog that I have ever seen.
He was born at the Islands, his father being an English mastiff, and
his mother a greyhound.  He had the high head, long legs, narrow body,
and springing gait of the latter, and the heavy jaw, thick jowls, and
strong fore-quarters of the mastiff.  When he was brought to San Diego,
an English sailor said that he looked, about the face, precisely like
the Duke of Wellington, whom he had once seen at the Tower; and,
indeed, there was something about him which resembled the portraits of
the Duke.  From this time he was christened "Welly," and became the
favorite and bully of the beach. He always led the dogs by several
yards in the chase, and had killed two coati at different times in
single combats.  We often had fine sport with these fellows.  A quick,
sharp bark from a coati, and in an instant every dog was at the height
of his speed.  A few moments made up for an unfair start, and gave each
dog his relative place. Welly, at the head, seemed almost to skim over
the bushes; and after him came Fanny, Feliciana, Childers, and the
other fleet ones,--the spaniels and terriers; and then behind, followed
the heavy corps--bulldogs, etc., for we had every breed.  Pursuit by us
was in vain, and in about half an hour a few of them would come panting
and straggling back.

Beside the coati, the dogs sometimes made prizes of rabbits and hares,
which are very plentiful here, and great numbers of which we often shot
for our dinners.  There was another animal that I was not so much
disposed to find amusement from, and that was the rattlesnake.  These
are very abundant here, especially during the spring of the year.  The
latter part of the time that I was on shore, I did not meet with so
many, but for the first two months we seldom went into "the bush"
without one of our number starting some of them. The first that I ever
saw, I remember perfectly well.  I had left my companions, and was
beginning to clear away a fine clump of trees, when just in the midst
of the thicket, not more than eight yards from me, one of these fellows
set up his hiss.  It is a sharp, continuous sound, and resembles very
much the letting off of the steam from the small pipe of a steamboat,
except that it is on a smaller scale. I knew, by the sound of an axe,
that one of my companions was near, and called out to him, to let him
know what I had fallen upon. He took it very lightly, and as he seemed
inclined to laugh at me for being afraid, I determined to keep my
place.  I knew that so long as I could hear the rattle, I was safe, for
these snakes never make a noise when they are in motion.  Accordingly,
I kept at my work, and the noise which I made with cutting and breaking
the trees kept him in alarm; so that I had the rattle to show me his
whereabouts. Once or twice the noise stopped for a short time, which
gave me a little uneasiness, and retreating a few steps, I threw
something into the bush, at which he would set his rattle agoing; and
finding that he had not moved from his first place, I was easy again.
In this way I continued at my work until I had cut a full load, never
suffering him to be quiet for a moment.  Having cut my load, I strapped
it together, and got everything ready for starting. I felt that I could
now call the others without the imputation of being afraid; and went in
search of them.  In a few minutes we were all collected, and began an
attack upon the bush.  The big Frenchman, who was the one that I had
called to at first, I found as little inclined to approach the snake as
I had been.  The dogs, too, seemed afraid of the rattle, and kept up a
barking at a safe distance; but the Kanakas showed no fear, and getting
long sticks, went into the bush, and keeping a bright look-out, stood
within a few feet of him.  One or two blows struck near him, and a few
stones thrown, started him, and we lost his track, and had the pleasant
consciousness that he might be directly under our feet.  By throwing
stones and chips in different directions, we made him spring his rattle
again, and began another attack.  This time we drove him into the clear
ground, and saw him gliding off, with head and tail erect, when a
stone, well aimed, knocked him over the bank, down a declivity of
fifteen or twenty feet, and stretched him at his length. Having made
sure of him, by a few more stones, we went down, and one of the Kanakas
cut off his rattle.  These rattles vary in number it is said, according
to the age of the snake; though the Indians think they indicate the
number of creatures they have killed.  We always preserved them as
trophies, and at the end of the summer had quite a number.  None of our
people were ever bitten by them, but one of our dogs died of a bite,
and another was supposed to have been bitten, but recovered.  We had no
remedy for the bite, though it was said that the Indians of the country
had, and the Kanakas professed to have an herb which would cure it, but
it was fortunately never brought to the test.

Hares and rabbits, as I said before, were abundant, and, during the
winter months, the waters are covered with wild ducks and geese. Crows,
too, were very numerous, and frequently alighted in great numbers upon
our hides, picking at the pieces of dried meat and fat. Bears and
wolves are numerous in the upper parts, and in the interior, (and,
indeed, a man was killed by a bear within a few miles of San Pedro,
while we were there,) but there were none in our immediate
neighborhood.  The only other animals were horses. Over a dozen of
these were owned by different people on the beach, and were allowed to
run loose among the hills, with a long lasso attached to them, and pick
up feed wherever they could find it. We were sure of seeing them once a
day, for there was no water among the hills, and they were obliged to
come down to the well which had been dug upon the beach.  These horses
were bought at, from two, to six and eight dollars apiece, and were
held very much as common property.  We generally kept one fast to one
of the houses every day, so that we could mount him and catch any of
the others. Some of them were really fine animals, and gave us many
good runs up to the Presidio and over the country.




CHAPTER XX

LEISURE--NEWS FROM HOME--"BURNING THE WATER"

After we had been a few weeks on shore, and had begun to feel broken
into the regularity of our life, its monotony was interrupted by the
arrival of two vessels from the windward. We were sitting at dinner in
our little room, when we heard the cry of "Sail ho!"  This, we had
learned, did not always signify a vessel, but was raised whenever a
woman was seen coming down from the town; or a squaw, or an ox-cart, or
anything unusual, hove in sight upon the road; so we took no notice of
it.  But it soon became so loud and general from all parts of the
beach, that we were led to go to the door; and there, sure enough, were
two sails coming round the point, and leaning over from the strong
north-west wind, which blows down the coast every afternoon.  The
headmost was a ship, and the other, a brig.  Everybody was alive on the
beach, and all manner of conjectures were abroad.  Some said it was the
Pilgrim, with the Boston ship, which we were expecting; but we soon saw
that the brig was not the Pilgrim, and the ship with her stump
top-gallant masts and rusty sides, could not be a dandy Boston
Indiaman.  As they drew nearer, we soon discovered the high poop and
top-gallant forecastle, and other marks of the Italian ship Rosa, and
the brig proved to be the Catalina, which we saw at Santa Barbara, just
arrived from Valparaiso.  They came to anchor, moored ship, and
commenced discharging hides and tallow.  The Rosa had purchased the
house occupied by the Lagoda, and the Catalina took the other spare one
between ours and the Ayacucho's, so that, now, each one was occupied,
and the beach, for several days, was all alive. The Catalina had
several Kanakas on board, who were immediately besieged by the others,
and carried up to the oven, where they had a long pow-wow, and a smoke.
Two Frenchmen, who belonged to the Rosa's crew, came in, every evening,
to see Nicholas; and from them we learned that the Pilgrim was at San
Pedro, and was the only other vessel now on the coast.  Several of the
Italians slept on shore at their hide-house; and there, and at the tent
in which the Fazio's crew lived, we had some very good singing almost
every evening. The Italians sang a variety of songs--barcarollas,
provincial airs, etc.; in several of which I recognized parts of our
favorite operas and sentimental songs.  They often joined in a song,
taking all the different parts; which produced a fine effect, as many
of them had good voices, and all seemed to sing with spirit and
feeling.  One young man, in particular, had a falsetto as clear as a
clarionet.

The greater part of the crews of the vessels came ashore every evening,
and we passed the time in going about from one house to another, and
listening to all manner of languages.  The Spanish was the common
ground upon which we all met; for every one knew more or less of that.
We had now, out of forty or fifty, representatives from almost every
nation under the sun: two Englishmen, three Yankees, two Scotchmen, two
Welshmen, one Irishman, three Frenchmen (two of whom were Normans, and
the third from Gascony,) one Dutchman, one Austrian, two or three
Spaniards, (from old Spain,) half a dozen Spanish-Americans and
half-breeds, two native Indians from Chili and the Island of Chiloe,
one <DW64>, one Mulatto, about twenty Italians, from all parts of Italy,
as many more Sandwich Islanders, one Otaheitan, and one Kanaka from the
Marquesas Islands.

The night before the vessels were ready to sail, all the Europeans
united and had an entertainment at the Rosa's hide-house, and we had
songs of every nation and tongue.  A German gave us "Och! mein lieber
Augustin!" the three Frenchmen roared through the Marseilles Hymn; the
English and Scotchmen gave us "Rule Britannia," and "Wha'll be King but
Charlie?" the Italians and Spaniards screamed through some national
affairs, for which I was none the wiser; and we three Yankees made an
attempt at the "Star-spangled Banner." After these national tributes
had been paid, the Austrian gave us a very pretty little love-song, and
the Frenchmen sang a spirited thing called "Sentinelle! O prenez garde
a vous!" and then followed the melange which might have been expected.
When I left them, the aguardiente and annisou was pretty well in their
heads, and they were all singing and talking at once, and their
peculiar national oaths were getting as plenty as pronouns.

The next day, the two vessels got under weigh for the windward, and
left us in quiet possession of the beach.  Our numbers were somewhat
enlarged by the opening of the new houses, and the society of the beach
a little changed.  In charge of the Catalina's house, was an old
Scotchman, who, like most of his countrymen, had a pretty good
education, and, like many of them, was rather pragmatical, and had a
ludicrously solemn conceit.  He employed his time in taking care of his
pigs, chickens, turkeys, dogs, etc., and in smoking his long pipe.
Everything was as neat as a pin in the house, and he was as regular in
his hours as a chronometer, but as he kept very much by himself, was
not a great addition to our society.  He hardly spent a cent all the
time he was on the beach, and the others said he was no shipmate.  He
had been a petty officer on board the British frigate Dublin, Capt.
Lord James Townshend, and had great ideas of his own importance.  The
man in charge of the Rosa's house was an Austrian by birth, but spoke,
read, and wrote four languages with ease and correctness.  German was
his native tongue, but being born near the borders of Italy, and having
sailed out of Genoa, the Italian was almost as familiar to him as his
own language.  He was six years on board of an English man-of-war,
where he learned to speak our language with ease, and also to read and
write it.  He had been several years in Spanish vessels, and had
acquired that language so well, that he could read any books in it.  He
was between forty and fifty years of age, and was a singular mixture of
the man-of-war's-man and Puritan.  He talked a great deal about
propriety and steadiness, and gave good advice to the youngsters and
Kanakas, but seldom went up to the town, without coming down "three
sheets in the wind."  One holyday, he and old Robert (the Scotchman
from the Catalina) went up to the town, and got so cozy, talking over
old stories and giving one another good advice, that they came down
double-backed, on a horse, and both rolled off into the sand as soon as
the horse stopped. This put an end to their pretensions, and they never
heard the last of it from the rest of the men.  On the night of the
entertainment at the Rosa's house, I saw old Schmidt, (that was the
Austrian's name) standing up by a hogshead, holding on by both hands,
and calling out to himself--"Hold on, Schmidt! hold on, my good fellow,
or you'll be on your back!"  Still, he was an intelligent, good-natured
old fellow, and had a chest-full of books, which he willingly lent me
to read.  In the same house with him was a Frenchman and an Englishman;
the latter a regular-built "man-of-war Jack;" a thorough seaman; a
hearty, generous fellow; and, at the same time, a drunken, dissolute
dog.  He made it a point to get drunk once a fortnight, (when he always
managed to sleep on the road, and have his money stolen from him,) and
to battle the Frenchman once a week. These, with a Chilian, and a half
a dozen Kanakas, formed the addition to our company.

In about six weeks from the time when the Pilgrim sailed, we had got
all the hides which she left us cured and stowed away; and having
cleared up the ground, and emptied the vats, and set everything in
order, had nothing more to do until she should come down again, but to
supply ourselves with wood.  Instead of going twice a week for this
purpose, we determined to give one whole week to getting wood, and then
we should have enough to last us half through the summer.  Accordingly,
we started off every morning, after an early breakfast, with our
hatchets in hand, and cut wood until the sun was over the point,--which
was our only mark of time, as there was not a watch on the beach--and
then came back to dinner, and after dinner, started off again with our
hand-cart and ropes, and carted and "backed" it down, until sunset.
This, we kept up for a week, until we had collected several
cords,--enough to last us for six or eight weeks--when we "knocked off"
altogether, much to my joy; for, though I liked straying in the woods,
and cutting, very well, yet the backing the wood for so great a
distance, over an uneven country, was, without exception, the hardest
work I had ever done. I usually had to kneel down and contrive to heave
the load, which was well strapped together, upon my back, and then rise
up and start off with it up the hills and down the vales, sometimes
through thickets,--the rough points sticking into the skin, and tearing
the clothes, so that, at the end of the week, I had hardly a whole
shirt to my back.

We were now through all our work, and had nothing more to do until the
Pilgrim should come down again.  We had nearly got through our
provisions too, as well as our work; for our officer had been very
wasteful of them, and the tea, flour, sugar, and molasses, were all
gone.  We suspected him of sending them up to the town; and he always
treated the squaws with molasses, when they came down to the beach.
Finding wheat-coffee and dry bread rather poor living, we dubbed
together, and I went up to the town on horseback with a great salt-bag
behind the saddle, and a few reals in my pocket, and brought back the
bag full of onions, pears, beans, water-melons, and other fruits; for
the young woman who tended the garden, finding that I belonged to the
American ship, and that we were short of provisions, put in a double
portion.  With these we lived like fighting-cocks for a week or two,
and had, besides, what the sailors call "a blow-out on sleep;" not
turning out in the morning until breakfast was ready.  I employed
several days in overhauling my chest, and mending up all my old
clothes, until I had got everything in order--patch upon patch, like a
sand-barge's mainsail.  Then I took hold of Bowditch's Navigator, which
I had always with me.  I had been through the greater part of it, and
now went carefully through it, from beginning to end working out most
of the examples.  That done, and there being no signs of the Pilgrim, I
made a descent upon old Schmidt, and borrowed and read all the books
there were upon the beach.  Such a dearth was there of these latter
articles, that anything, even a little child's story-book, or the half
of a shipping calendar, appeared like a treasure. I actually read a
jest-book through, from beginning to end, in one day, as I should a
novel, and enjoyed it very much.  At last, when I thought that there
were no more to be got, I found, at the bottom of old Schmidt's chest,
"Mandeville, a Romance, by Godwin, in five volumes."  This I had never
read, but Godwin's name was enough, and after the wretched trash I had
devoured, anything bearing the name of a distinguished intellectual
man, was a prize indeed.  I bore it off, and for two days I was up
early and late, reading with all my might, and actually drinking in
delight.  It is no extravagance to say that it was like a spring in a
desert land.

From the sublime to the ridiculous--so with me, from Mandeville to
hide-curing, was but a step; for

Wednesday, July 18th, brought us the brig Pilgrim from the windward. As
she came in, we found that she was a good deal altered in her
appearance.  Her short top-gallant masts were up; her bowlines all
unrove (except to the courses); the quarter boom-irons off her lower
yards; her jack-cross-trees sent down; several blocks got rid of;
running-rigging rove in new places; and numberless other changes of the
same character.  Then, too, there was a new voice giving orders, and a
new face on the quarter-deck,--a short, dark-complexioned man, in a
green jacket and a high leather cap.  These changes, of course, set the
whole beach on the qui-vive, and we were all waiting for the boat to
come ashore, that we might have things explained.  At length, after the
sails were furled and the anchor carried out, the boat pulled ashore,
and the news soon flew that the expected ship had arrived at Santa
Barbara, and that Captain T---- had taken command of her, and her
captain, Faucon, had taken the Pilgrim, and was the green-jacketed man
on the quarter-deck.  The boat put directly off again, without giving
us time to ask any more questions, and we were obliged to wait till
night, when we took a little skiff, that lay on the beach, and paddled
off.  When I stepped aboard, the second mate called me aft, and gave me
a large bundle, directed to me, and marked "Ship Alert."  This was what
I had longed for, yet I refrained from opening it until I went ashore.
Diving down into the forecastle, I found the same old crew, and was
really glad to see them again. Numerous inquiries passed as to the new
ship, the latest news from Boston, etc., etc.  S---- had received
letters from home, and nothing remarkable had happened.  The Alert was
agreed on all hands to be a fine ship, and a large one: "Larger than
the Rosa"--"Big enough to carry off all the hides in California"--"Rail
as high as a man's head"--"A crack ship"--"A regular dandy," etc., etc.
Captain T---- took command of her, and she went directly up to
Monterey; from thence she was to go to San Francisco, and probably
would not be in San Diego under two or three months.  Some of the
Pilgrim's crew found old ship-mates aboard of her, and spent an hour or
two in her forecastle, the evening before she sailed.  They said her
decks were as white as snow--holystoned every morning, like a
man-of-war's; everything on board "shipshape and Bristol fashion;" a
fine crew, three mates, a sailmaker and carpenter, and all complete.
"They've got a man for mate of that ship, and not a bloody sheep about
decks!"--"A mate that knows his duty, and makes everybody do theirs,
and won't be imposed upon either by captain or crew." After collecting
all the information we could get on this point, we asked something
about their new captain.  He had hardly been on board long enough for
them to know much about him, but he had taken hold strong, as soon as
he took command;--sending down the top-gallant masts, and unreeving
half the rigging, the very first day.

Having got all the news we could, we pulled ashore; and as soon as we
reached the house, I, as might be supposed, proceeded directly to
opening my bundle, and found a reasonable supply of duck, flannel
shirts, shoes, etc., and, what was still more valuable, a packet of
eleven letters.  These I sat up nearly all the night to read, and put
them carefully away, to be read and re-read again and again at my
leisure.  Then came a half a dozen newspapers, the last of which gave
notice of Thanksgiving, and of the clearance of "ship Alert, Edward H.
Faucon, master, for Callao and California, by Bryant, Sturgis & Co."
No one has ever been on distant voyages, and after a long absence
received a newspaper from home, who cannot understand the delight that
they give one.  I read every part of them--the houses to let; things
lost or stolen; auction sales, and all. Nothing carries you so entirely
to a place, and makes you feel so perfectly at home, as a newspaper.
The very name of "Boston Daily Advertiser" "sounded hospitably upon the
ear."

The Pilgrim discharged her hides, which set us at work again, and in a
few days we were in the old routine of dry hides--wet
hides--cleaning--beating, etc.  Captain Faucon came quietly up to me,
as I was at work, with my knife, cutting the meat from a dirty hide,
asked me how I liked California, and repeated--"Tityre, tu patulae
recubans sub tegmine fagi."  Very apropos, thought I, and, at the same
time, serves to show that you understand Latin. However, a kind word
from a captain is a thing not to be slighted; so I answered him
civilly, and made the most of it.

Saturday, July 11th.  The Pilgrim set sail for the windward, and left
us to go on in our old way.  Having laid in such a supply of wood, and
the days being now long, and invariably pleasant, we had a good deal of
time to ourselves.  All the duck I received from home, I soon made up
into trowsers and frocks, and displayed, every Sunday, a complete suit
of my own make, from head to foot, having formed the remnants of the
duck into a cap.  Reading, mending, sleeping, with occasional
excursions into the bush, with the dogs, in search of coati, hares, and
rabbits, or to encounter a rattlesnake, and now and then a visit to the
Presidio, filled up our spare time after hide-curing was over for the
day.  Another amusement, which we sometimes indulged in, was "burning
the water" for craw-fish. For this purpose, we procured a pair of
grains, with a long staff like a harpoon, and making torches with
tarred rope twisted round a long pine stick, took the only boat on the
beach, a small skiff, and with a torch-bearer in the bow, a steersman
in the stern, and one man on each side with the grains, went off, on
dark nights, to burn the water.  This is fine sport.  Keeping within a
few rods of the shore, where the water is not more than three or four
feet deep, with a clear sandy bottom, the torches light everything up
so that one could almost have seen a pin among the grains of sand.  The
craw-fish are an easy prey, and we used soon to get a load of them.
The other fish were more difficult to catch, yet we frequently speared
a number of them, of various kinds and sizes.  The Pilgrim brought us
down a supply of fish-hooks, which we had never had before, on the
beach, and for several days we went down to the Point, and caught a
quantity of cod and mackerel.  On one of these expeditions, we saw a
battle between two Sandwich Islanders and a shark.  "Johnny" had been
playing about our boat for some time, driving away the fish, and
showing his teeth at our bait, when we missed him, and in a few moments
heard a great shouting between two Kanakas who were fishing on the rock
opposite to us: "E hana hana make i ka ia nui!" "E pii mai Aikane!"
etc., etc.; and saw them pulling away on a stout line, and "Johnny
Shark" floundering at the other end.  The line soon broke; but the
Kanakas would not let him off so easily, and sprang directly into the
water after him.  Now came the tug of war.  Before we could get into
deep water, one of them seized him by the tail, and ran up with him
upon the beach; but Johnny twisted round, turning his head under his
body, and, showing his teeth in the vicinity of the Kanaka's hand, made
him let go and spring out of the way.  The shark now turned tail and
made the best of his way, by flapping and floundering, toward deep
water; but here again, before he was fairly off, the other Kanaka
seized him by the tail, and made a spring towards the beach, his
companion at the same time paying away upon him with stones and a large
stick. As soon, however, as the shark could turn, he was obliged to let
go his hold; but the instant he made toward deep water, they were both
behind him, watching their chance to seize him.  In this way the battle
went on for some time, the shark, in a rage, splashing and twisting
about, and the Kanakas, in high excitement, yelling at the top of their
voices; but the shark at last got off, carrying away a hook and liner
and not a few severe bruises.




CHAPTER XXI

CALIFORNIA AND ITS INHABITANTS

We kept up a constant connection with the Presidio, and by the close of
the summer I had added much to my vocabulary, beside having made the
acquaintance of nearly everybody in the place, and acquired some
knowledge of the character and habits of the people, as well as of the
institutions under which they live.

California was first discovered in 1536, by Cortes, and was
subsequently visited by numerous other adventurers as well as
commissioned voyagers of the Spanish crown.  It was found to be
inhabited by numerous tribes of Indians, and to be in many parts
extremely fertile; to which, of course, was added rumors of gold mines,
pearl fishery, etc.  No sooner was the importance of the country known,
than the Jesuits obtained leave to establish themselves in it, to
Christianize and enlighten the Indians. They established missions in
various parts of the country toward the close of the seventeenth
century, and collected the natives about them, baptizing them into the
church, and teaching them the arts of civilized life.  To protect the
Jesuits in their missions, and at the same time to support the power of
the crown over the civilized Indians, two forts were erected and
garrisoned, one at San Diego, and the other at Monterey.  These were
called Presidios, and divided the command of the whole country between
them.  Presidios have since been established at Santa Barbara and San
Francisco; thus dividing the country into four large districts, each
with its presidio, and governed by the commandant.  The soldiers, for
the most part, married civilized Indians; and thus, in the vicinity of
each presidio, sprung up, gradually, small towns.  In the course of
time, vessels began to come into the ports to trade with the missions,
and received hides in return; and thus began the great trade of
California.  Nearly all the cattle in the country belonged to the
missions, and they employed their Indians, who became, in fact, their
slaves, in tending their vast herds.  In the year 1793, when Vancouver
visited San Diego, the mission had obtained great wealth and power, and
are accused of having depreciated the country with the sovereign, that
they might be allowed to retain their possessions.  On the expulsion of
the Jesuits from the Spanish dominions, the missions passed into the
hands of the Franciscans, though without any essential change in their
management.  Ever since the independence of Mexico, the missions have
been going down; until, at last, a law was passed, stripping them of
all their possessions, and confining the priests to their spiritual
duties; and at the same time declaring all the Indians free and
independent Rancheros.  The change in the condition of the Indians was,
as may be supposed, only nominal: they are virtually slaves, as much as
they ever were.  But in the missions, the change was complete.  The
priests have now no power, except in their religious character, and the
great possessions of the missions are given over to be preyed upon by
the harpies of the civil power, who are sent there in the capacity of
administradores, to settle up the concerns; and who usually end, in a
few years, by making themselves fortunes, and leaving their
stewardships worse than they found them.  The dynasty of the priests
was much more acceptable to the people of the country, and indeed, to
every one concerned with the country, by trade or otherwise, than that
of the administradores.  The priests were attached perpetually to one
mission, and felt the necessity of keeping up its credit.  Accordingly,
their debts were regularly paid, and the people were, in the main, well
treated, and attached to those who had spent their whole lives among
them. But the administradores are strangers sent from Mexico, having no
interest in the country; not identified in any way with their charge,
and, for the most part, men of desperate fortunes--broken down
politicians and soldiers--whose only object is to retrieve their
condition in as short a time as possible.  The change had been made but
a few years before our arrival upon the coast, yet, in that short time,
the trade was much diminished, credit impaired, and the venerable
missions going rapidly to decay.  The external arrangements remain the
same.  There are four presidios, having under their protection the
various missions, and pueblos, which are towns formed by the civil
power, and containing no mission or presidio.  The most northerly
presidio is San Francisco; the next Monterey; the next Santa Barbara;
including the mission of the same, St. Louis Obispo, and St.
Buenaventura, which is the finest mission in the whole country, having
very fertile soil and rich vineyards.  The last, and most southerly, is
San Diego, including the mission of the same, San Juan Campestrano, the
Pueblo de los Angelos, the largest town in California, with the
neighboring mission of San Gabriel.  The priests in spiritual matters
are subject to the Archbishop of Mexico, and in temporal matters to the
governor-general, who is the great civil and military head of the
country.

The government of the country is an arbitrary democracy; having no
common law, and no judiciary.  Their only laws are made and unmade at
the caprice of the legislature, and are as variable as the legislature
itself.  They pass through the form of sending representatives to the
congress at Mexico, but as it takes several months to go and return,
and there is very little communication between the capital and this
distant province, a member usually stays there, as permanent member,
knowing very well that there will be revolutions at home before he can
write and receive an answer; if another member should be sent, he has
only to challenge him, and decide the contested election in that way.

Revolutions are matters of constant occurrence in California. They are
got up by men who are at the foot of the ladder and in desperate
circumstances, just as a new political party is started by such men in
our own country.  The only object, of course, is the loaves and fishes;
and instead of caucusing, paragraphing, libelling, feasting, promising,
and lying, as with us, they take muskets and bayonets, and seizing upon
the presidio and custom-house, divide the spoils, and declare a new
dynasty.  As for justice, they know no law but will and fear.  A
Yankee, who had been naturalized, and become a Catholic, and had
married in the country, was sitting in his house at the Pueblo de los
Angelos, with his wife and children, when a Spaniard, with whom he had
had a difficulty, entered the house, and stabbed him to the heart
before them all.  The murderer was seized by some Yankees who had
settled there, and kept in confinement until a statement of the whole
affair could be sent to the governor-general. He refused to do anything
about it, and the countrymen of the murdered man, seeing no prospect of
justice being administered, made known that if nothing was done, they
should try the man themselves.  It chanced that, at this time, there
was a company of forty trappers and hunters from Kentucky, with their
rifles, who had made their head-quarters at the Pueblo; and these,
together with the Americans and Englishmen in the place, who were
between twenty and thirty in number, took possession of the town, and
waiting a reasonable time, proceeded to try the man according to the
forms in their own country.  A judge and jury were appointed, and he
was tried, convicted, sentenced to be shot, and carried out before the
town, with his eyes blindfolded.  The names of all the men were then
put into a hat and each one pledging himself to perform his duty,
twelve names were drawn out, and the men took their stations with their
rifles, and, firing at the word, laid him dead.  He was decently
buried, and the place was restored quietly to the proper authorities.
A general, with titles enough for an hidalgo, was at San Gabriel, and
issued a proclamation as long as the fore-top-bowline, threatening
destruction to the rebels, but never stirred from his fort; for forty
Kentucky hunters, with their rifles, were a match for a whole regiment
of hungry, drawling, lazy half-breeds.  This affair happened while we
were at San Pedro, (the port of the Pueblo,) and we had all the
particulars directly from those who were on the spot.  A few months
afterwards, another man, whom we had often seen in San Diego, murdered
a man and his wife on the high road between the Pueblo and San Louis
Rey, and the foreigners not feeling themselves called upon to act in
this case, the parties being all natives, nothing was done about it;
and I frequently afterwards saw the murderer in San Diego, where he was
living with his wife and family.

When a crime has been committed by Indians, justice, or rather
vengeance, is not so tardy.  One Sunday afternoon, while I was at San
Diego, an Indian was sitting on his horse, when another, with whom he
had had some difficulty, came up to him, drew a long knife, and plunged
it directly into the horse's heart.  The Indian sprang from his falling
horse, drew out the knife, and plunged it into the other Indian's
breast, over his shoulder, and laid him dead. The poor fellow was
seized at once, clapped into the calabozo, and kept there until an
answer could be received from Monterey. A few weeks afterwards, I saw
the poor wretch, sitting on the bare ground, in front of the calabozo,
with his feet chained to a stake, and handcuffs about his wrists.  I
knew there was very little hope for him.  Although the deed was done in
hot blood, the horse on which he was sitting being his own, and a great
favorite, yet he was an Indian, and that was enough.  In about a week
after I saw him, I heard that he had been shot.  These few instances
will serve to give one a notion of the distribution of justice in
California.

In their domestic relations, these people are no better than in their
public.  The men are thriftless, proud, and extravagant, and very much
given to gaming; and the women have but little education, and a good
deal of beauty, and their morality, of course, is none of the best; yet
the instances of infidelity are much less frequent than one would at
first suppose.  In fact, one vice is set over against another; and
thus, something like a balance is obtained.  The women have but little
virtue, but then the jealousy of their husbands is extreme, and their
revenge deadly and almost certain.  A few inches of cold steel has been
the punishment of many an unwary man, who has been guilty, perhaps, of
nothing more than indiscretion of manner. The difficulties of the
attempt are numerous, and the consequences of discovery fatal.  With
the unmarried women, too, great watchfulness is used.  The main object
of the parents is to marry their daughters well, and to this, the
slightest slip would be fatal.  The sharp eyes of a duena, and the cold
steel of a father or brother, are a protection which the characters of
most of them--men and women--render by no means useless; for the very
men who would lay down their lives to avenge the dishonor of their own
family, would risk the same lives to complete the dishonor of another.

Of the poor Indians, very little care is taken.  The priests, indeed,
at the missions, are said to keep them very strictly, and some rules
are usually made by the alcaldes to punish their misconduct; but it all
amounts to but little.  Indeed, to show the entire want of any sense of
morality or domestic duty among them, I have frequently known an Indian
to bring his wife, to whom he was lawfully married in the church, down
to the beach, and carry her back again, dividing with her the money
which she had got from the sailors.  If any of the girls were
discovered by the alcalde to be open evil-livers, they were whipped,
and kept at work sweeping the square of the presidio, and carrying mud
and bricks for the buildings; yet a few reals would generally buy them
off.  Intemperance, too, is a common vice among the Indians. The
Spaniards, on the contrary, are very abstemious, and I do not remember
ever having seen a Spaniard intoxicated.

Such are the people who inhabit a country embracing four or five
hundred miles of sea-coast, with several good harbors; with fine
forests in the north; the waters filled with fish, and the plains
covered with thousands of herds of cattle; blessed with a climate, than
which there can be no better in the world; free from all manner of
diseases, whether epidemic or endemic; and with a soil in which corn
yields from seventy to eighty fold.  In the hands of an enterprising
people, what a country this might be! we are ready to say.  Yet how
long would a people remain so, in such a country?  The Americans (as
those from the United States are called) and Englishmen, who are fast
filling up the principal towns, and getting the trade into their hands,
are indeed more industrious and effective than the Spaniards; yet their
children are brought up Spaniards, in every respect, and if the
"California fever" (laziness) spares the first generation, it always
attacks the second.




CHAPTER XXII

LIFE ON SHORE--THE ALERT

Saturday, July 18th.  This day, sailed the Mexican hermaphrodite brig,
Fazio, for San Blas and Mazatlan.  This was the brig which was driven
ashore at San Pedro in a SOUTH-EASTER, and had been lying at San Diego
to repair and take in her cargo.  The owner of her had had a good deal
of difficulty with the government about the duties, etc., and her
sailing had been delayed for several weeks; but everything having been
arranged, she got under weigh with a light breeze, and was floating out
of the harbor, when two horsemen came dashing down to the beach, at
full speed, and tried to find a boat to put off after her; but there
being none on the beach, they offered a handful of silver to any Kanaka
who would swim off and take a letter on board.  One of the Kanakas, a
fine, active, well-made young fellow, instantly threw off everything
but his duck trowsers, and putting the letter into his hat, swam off,
after the vessel.  Fortunately, the wind was very light and the vessel
was going slowly, so that, although she was nearly a mile off when he
started, he gained on her rapidly.  He went through the water leaving a
wake like a small steamboat.  I certainly never saw such swimming
before.  They saw him coming from the deck, but did not heave-to,
suspecting the nature of his errand; yet, the wind continuing light, he
swam alongside and got on board, and delivered his letter.  The captain
read the letter, told the Kanaka there was no answer, and giving him a
glass of brandy, left him to jump overboard and find the best of his
way to the shore.  The Kanaka swam in for the nearest point of land,
and, in about an hour, made his appearance at the hide-house.  He did
not seem at all fatigued, had made three or four dollars, got a glass
of brandy, and was in fine spirits. The brig kept on her course, and
the government officers, who had come down to forbid her sailing, went
back, each with something like a flea in his ear, having depended upon
extorting a little more money from the owner.

It was now nearly three months since the Alert arrived at Santa
Barbara, and we began to expect her daily.  About a half a mile behind
the hide-house, was a high hill; and every afternoon, as soon as we had
done our work, some one of us walked up to see if there were any sail
in sight, coming down before the regular trades, which blow every
afternoon.  Each day, after the latter part of July, we went up the
hill, and came back disappointed.  I was anxious for her arrival, for I
had been told by letter that the owners in Boston, at the request of my
friends, had written to Captain T---- to take me on board the Alert, in
case she returned to the United States before the Pilgrim; and I, of
course, wished to know whether the order had been received, and what
was the destination of the ship. One year more or less might be of
small consequence to others, but it was everything to me.  It was now
just a year since we sailed from Boston, and at the shortest, no vessel
could expect to get away under eight or nine months, which would make
our absence two years in all.  This would be pretty long, but would not
be fatal.  It would not necessarily be decisive of my future life.  But
one year more would settle the matter.  I should be a sailor for life;
and although I had made up my mind to it before I had my letters from
home, and was, as I thought, quite satisfied; yet, as soon as an
opportunity was held out to me of returning, and the prospect of
another kind of life was opened to me, my anxiety to return, and, at
least, to have the chance of deciding upon my course for myself, was
beyond measure. Beside that, I wished to be "equal to either fortune,"
and to qualify myself for an officer's berth, and a hide-house was no
place to learn seamanship in.  I had become experienced in hide-curing,
and everything went on smoothly, and I had many opportunities of
becoming acquainted with the people, and much leisure for reading and
studying navigation; yet practical seamanship could only be got on
board ship; therefore, I determined to ask to be taken on board the
ship when she arrived.  By the first of August, we finished curing all
our hides, stored them away, cleaned out our vats, (in which latter
work we spent two days, up to our knees in mud and the sediments of six
months' hide-curing, in a stench which would drive a donkey from his
breakfast,) and got in readiness for the arrival of the ship, and had
another leisure interval of three or four weeks; which I spent, as
usual, in reading, writing, studying, making and mending my clothes,
and getting my wardrobe in complete readiness, in case I should go on
board the ship; and in fishing, ranging the woods with the dogs, and in
occasional visits to the presidio and mission.  A good deal of my time
was spent in taking care of a little puppy, which I had selected from
thirty-six, that were born within three days of one another, at our
house.  He was a fine, promising pup, with four white paws, and all the
rest of his body of a dark brown.  I built a little kennel for him, and
kept him fastened there, away from the other dogs, feeding and
disciplining him myself.  In a few weeks, I got him in complete
subjection, and he grew finely, was very much attached to me, and bid
fair to be one of the leading dogs on the beach.  I called him Bravo,
and the only thing I regretted at the thought of leaving the beach, was
parting with him.

Day after day, we went up the hill, but no ship was to be seen, and we
began to form all sorts of conjectures as to her whereabouts; and the
theme of every evening's conversation at the different houses, and in
our afternoon's paseo upon the beach, was the ship--where she could
be--had she been to San Francisco?--how many hides she would bring,
etc., etc.

Tuesday, August 25th.  This morning, the officer in charge of our house
went off beyond the point a fishing, in a small canoe, with two
Kanakas; and we were sitting quietly in our room at the hide-house,
when, just before noon, we heard a complete yell of "Sail ho!" breaking
out from all parts of the beach, at once,--from the Kanakas' oven to
the Rosa's house.  In an instant, every one was out of his house; and
there was a fine, tall ship, with royals and skysails set, bending over
before the strong afternoon breeze, and coming rapidly round the point.
Her yards were braced sharp up; every sail was set, and drew well; the
Yankee ensign was flying from her mizen-peak; and having the tide in
her favor, she came up like a race-horse.  It was nearly six months
since a new vessel had entered San Diego, and of course, every one was
on the qui-vive. She certainly made a fine appearance.  Her light sails
were taken in, as she passed the low, sandy tongue of land, and clewing
up her head sails, she rounded handsomely to, under her mizen topsail,
and let go the anchor at about a cable's length from the shore. In a
few minutes, the topsail yards were manned, and all three of the
topsails furled at once.  From the fore top-gallant yard, the men slid
down the stay to furl the jib, and from the mizen top-gallant yard, by
the stay, into the maintop, and thence to the yard; and the men on the
topsail yards came down the lifts to the yard-arms of the courses.  The
sails were furled with great care, the bunts triced up by jiggers, and
the jibs stowed in cloth.  The royal yards were then struck, tackles
got upon the yard-arms and the stay, the long-boat hoisted out, a large
anchor carried astern, and the ship moored.  Then the captain's gig was
lowered away from the quarter, and a boat's crew of fine lads, between
the ages of fourteen and eighteen, pulled the captain ashore.  The gig
was a light whale-boat, handsomely painted, and fitted up with
cushions, etc., in the stern sheets. We immediately attacked the boat's
crew, and got very thick with them in a few minutes.  We had much to
ask about Boston, their passage out, etc., and they were very curious
to know about the life we were leading upon the beach.  One of them
offered to exchange with me; which was just what I wanted; and we had
only to get the permission of the captain.

After dinner, the crew began discharging their hides, and, as we had
nothing to do at the hide-houses, we were ordered aboard to help them.
I had now my first opportunity of seeing the ship which I hoped was to
be my home for the next year.  She looked as well on board as she did
from without.  Her decks were wide and roomy, (there being no poop, or
house on deck, which disfigures the after part of most of our vessels,)
flush, fore and aft, and as white as snow, which the crew told us was
from constant use of holystones. There was no foolish gilding and
gingerbread work, to take the eye of landsmen and passengers, but
everything was "ship-shape and Bristol fashion."  There was no rust, no
dirt, no rigging hanging slack, no fag ends of ropes and "Irish
pendants" aloft, and the yards were squared "to a t" by lifts and
braces.

The mate was a fine, hearty, noisy fellow, with a voice like a lion,
and always wide awake.  He was "a man, every inch of him," as the
sailors said; and though "a bit of a horse," and "a hard customer," yet
he was generally liked by the crew.  There was also a second and third
mate, a carpenter, sailmaker, steward, cook, etc., and twelve,
including boys, before the mast.  She had, on board, seven thousand
hides, which she had collected at the windward, and also horns and
tallow.  All these we began discharging, from both gangways at once,
into the two boats, the second mate having charge of the launch, and
the third mate of the pinnace.  For several days, we were employed in
this way, until all the hides were taken out, when the crew began
taking in ballast, and we returned to our old work, hide-curing.

Saturday, Aug. 29th.  Arrived, brig Catalina, from the windward.

Sunday, 30th.  This was the first Sunday that the crew had been in San
Diego, and of course they were all for going up to see the town.  The
Indians came down early, with horses to let for the day, and all the
crew, who could obtain liberty, went off to the Presidio and mission,
and did not return until night. I had seen enough of San Diego, and
went on board and spent the day with some of the crew, whom I found
quietly at work in the forecastle, mending and washing their clothes,
and reading and writing.  They told me that the ship stopped at Callao
in the passage out, and there lay three weeks.  She had a passage of
little over eighty days from Boston to Callao, which is one of the
shortest on record.  There, they left the Brandywine frigate, and other
smaller American ships of war, and the English frigate Blonde, and a
French seventy-four.  From Callao they came directly to California, and
had visited every port on the coast, including San Francisco.  The
forecastle in which they lived was large, tolerably well lighted by
bulls-eyes, and, being kept perfectly clean, had quite a comfortable
appearance; at least, it was far better than the little, black, dirty
hole in which I had lived so many months on board the Pilgrim.  By the
regulations of the ship, the forecastle was cleaned out every morning,
and the crew, being very neat, kept it clean by some regulations of
their own, such as having a large spitbox always under the steps and
between the bits, and obliging every man to hang up his wet clothes,
etc.  In addition to this, it was holystoned every Saturday morning.
In the after part of the ship was a handsome cabin, a dining-room, and
a trade-room, fitted out with shelves and furnished with all sorts of
goods. Between these and the forecastle was the "between-decks," as
high as the gun deck of a frigate; being six feet and a half, under the
beams.  These between-decks were holystoned regularly, and kept in the
most perfect order; the carpenter's bench and tools being in one part,
the sailmaker's in another, and boatswain's locker, with the spare
rigging, in a third.  A part of the crew slept here, in hammocks swung
fore and aft from the beams, and triced up every morning.  The sides of
the between-decks were clapboarded, the knees and stanchions of iron,
and the latter made to unship. The crew said she was as tight as a
drum, and a fine sea boat, her only fault being, that of most fast
ships,--that she was wet, forward.  When she was going, as she
sometimes would, eight or nine knots on a wind, there would not be a
dry spot forward of the gangway.  The men told great stories of her
sailing, and had great confidence in her as a "lucky ship."  She was
seven years old, and had always been in the Canton trade, and never had
met with an accident of any consequence, and had never made a passage
that was not shorter than the average.  The third mate, a young man of
about eighteen years of age, nephew of one of the owners, had been in
the ship from a small boy, and "believed in the ship;" and the chief
mate thought more of her than he would of a wife and family.

The ship lay about a week longer in port, when, having discharged her
cargo and taken in ballast, she prepared to get under weigh. I now made
my application to the captain to go on board.  He told me that I could
go home in the ship when she sailed (which I knew before); and, finding
that I wished to be on board while she was on the coast, said he had no
objection, if I could find one of my own age to exchange with me, for
the time.  This, I easily accomplished, for they were glad to change
the scene by a few months on shore, and, moreover, escape the winter
and the SOUTH-EASTERs; and I went on board the next day, with my chest
and hammock, and found myself once more afloat.




CHAPTER XXIII

NEW SHIP AND SHIPMATES--MY WATCHMATE

Tuesday, Sept. 8th.  This was my first day's duty on board the ship;
and though a sailor's life is a sailor's life wherever it may be, yet I
found everything very different here from the customs of the brig
Pilgrim.  After all hands were called, at day-break, three minutes and
a half were allowed for every man to dress and come on deck, and if any
were longer than that, they were sure to be overhauled by the mate, who
was always on deck, and making himself heard all over the ship.  The
head-pump was then rigged, and the decks washed down by the second and
third mates; the chief mate walking the quarter-deck and keeping a
general supervision, but not deigning to touch a bucket or a brush.
Inside and out, fore and aft, upper deck and between decks, steerage
and forecastle, rail, bulwarks, and water-ways, were washed, scrubbed
and scraped with brooms and canvas, and the decks were wet and sanded
all over, and then holystoned.  The holystone is a large, soft stone,
smooth on the bottom, with long ropes attached to each end, by which
the crew keep it sliding fore and aft, over the wet, sanded decks.
Smaller hand-stones, which the sailors call "prayer-books," are used to
scrub in among the crevices and narrow places, where the large
holystone will not go.  An hour or two, we were kept at this work, when
the head-pump was manned, and all the sand washed off the decks and
sides.  Then came swabs and squilgees; and after the decks were dry,
each one went to his particular morning job. There were five boats
belonging to the ship,--launch, pinnace, jolly-boat, larboard
quarter-boat, and gig,--each of which had a coxswain, who had charge of
it, and was answerable for the order and cleanness of it.  The rest of
the cleaning was divided among the crew; one having the brass and
composition work about the capstan; another the bell, which was of
brass, and kept as bright as a gilt button; a third, the harness-cask;
another, the man-rope stanchions; others, the steps of the forecastle
and hatchways, which were hauled up and holystoned.  Each of these jobs
must be finished before breakfast; and, in the meantime, the rest of
the crew filled the scuttle-butt, and the cook scraped his kids (wooden
tubs out of which the sailors eat) and polished the hoops, and placed
them before the galley, to await inspection. When the decks were dry,
the lord paramount made his appearance on the quarter-deck, and took a
few turns, when eight bells were struck, and all hands went to
breakfast.  Half an hour was allowed for breakfast, when all hands were
called again; the kids, pots, bread-bags, etc., stowed away; and, this
morning, preparations were made for getting under weigh.  We paid out
on the chain by which we swung; hove in on the other; catted the
anchor; and hove short on the first.  This work was done in shorter
time than was usual on board the brig; for though everything was more
than twice as large and heavy, the cat-block being as much as a man
could lift, and the chain as large as three of the Pilgrim's, yet there
was a plenty of room to move about in, more discipline and system, more
men, and more good will.  Every one seemed ambitious to do his best:
officers and men knew their duty, and all went well. As soon as she was
hove short, the mate, on the forecastle, gave the order to loose the
sails, and, in an instant, every one sprung into the rigging, up the
shrouds, and out on the yards, scrambling by one another,--the first up
the best fellow,--cast off the yard-arm gaskets and bunt gaskets, and
one man remained on each yard, holding the bunt jigger with a turn
round the tye, all ready to let go, while the rest laid down to man the
sheets and halyards. The mate then hailed the yards--"All ready
forward?"--"All ready the cross-jack yards?" etc., etc., and "Aye, aye,
sir!" being returned from each, the word was given to let go; and in
the twinkling of an eye, the ship, which had shown nothing but her bare
yards, was covered with her loose canvas, from the royal-mast-heads to
the decks.  Every one then laid down, except one man in each top, to
overhaul the rigging, and the topsails were hoisted and sheeted home;
all three yards going to the mast-head at once, the larboard watch
hoisting the fore, the starboard watch the main, and five light hands,
(of whom I was one,) picked from the two watches, the mizen.  The yards
were then trimmed, the anchor weighed, the cat-block hooked on, the
fall stretched out, manned by "all hands and the cook," and the anchor
brought to the head with "cheerily men!" in full chorus.  The ship
being now under weigh, the light sails were set, one after another, and
she was under full sail, before she had passed the sandy point. The
fore royal, which fell to my lot, (being in the mate's watch,) was more
than twice as large as that of the Pilgrim, and, though I could handle
the brig's easily, I found my hands full, with this, especially as
there were no jacks to the ship; everything being for neatness, and
nothing left for Jack to hold on by, but his eyelids.

As soon as we were beyond the point, and all sail out, the order was
given, "Go below the watch!" and the crew said that, ever since they
had been on the coast, they had had "watch and watch," while going from
port to port; and, in fact, everything showed that, though strict
discipline was kept, and the utmost was required of every man, in the
way of his duty, yet, on the whole, there was very good usage on board.
Each one knew that he must be a man, and show himself smart when at his
duty, yet every one was satisfied with the usage; and a contented crew,
agreeing with one another, and finding no fault, was a contrast indeed
with the small, hard-used, dissatisfied, grumbling, desponding crew of
the Pilgrim.

It being the turn of our watch to go below, the men went to work,
mending their clothes, and doing other little things for themselves;
and I, having got my wardrobe in complete order at San Diego, had
nothing to do but to read.  I accordingly overhauled the chests of the
crew, but found nothing that suited me exactly, until one of the men
said he had a book which "told all about a great highway-man," at the
bottom of his chest, and producing it, I found, to my surprise and joy,
that it was nothing else than Bulwer's Paul Clifford.  This, I seized
immediately, and going to my hammock, lay there, swinging and reading,
until the watch was out.  The between-decks were clear, the hatchways
open, and a cool breeze blowing through them, the ship under easy way,
and everything comfortable.  I had just got well into the story, when
eight bells were struck, and we were all ordered to dinner. After
dinner came our watch on deck for four hours, and, at four o'clock, I
went below again, turned into my hammock, and read until the dog watch.
As no lights were allowed after eight o'clock, there was no reading in
the night watch.  Having light winds and calms, we were three days on
the passage, and each watch below, during the daytime, I spent in the
same manner, until I had finished my book.  I shall never forget the
enjoyment I derived from it.  To come across anything with the
slightest claims to literary merit, was so unusual, that this was a
perfect feast to me.  The brilliancy of the book, the succession of
capital hits, lively and characteristic sketches, kept me in a constant
state of pleasing sensations.  It was far too good for a sailor.  I
could not expect such fine times to last long.

While on deck, the regular work of the ship went on.  The sailmaker and
carpenter worked between decks, and the crew had their work to do upon
the rigging, drawing yarns, making spun-yarn, etc., as usual in
merchantmen.  The night watches were much more pleasant than on board
the Pilgrim.  There, there were so few in a watch, that, one being at
the wheel, and another on the look-out, there was no one left to talk
with; but here, we had seven in a watch, so that we had long yarns, in
abundance.  After two or three night watches, I became quite well
acquainted with all the larboard watch.  The sailmaker was the head man
of the watch, and was generally considered the most experienced seaman
on board.  He was a thoroughbred old man-of-war's-man, had been to sea
twenty-two years, in all kinds of vessels--men-of-war, privateers,
slavers, and merchantmen;--everything except whalers, which a thorough
sailor despises, and will always steer clear of, if he can.  He had, of
course, been in all parts of the world, and was remarkable for drawing
a long bow.  His yarns frequently stretched through a watch, and kept
all hands awake.  They were always amusing from their improbability,
and, indeed, he never expected to be believed, but spun them merely for
amusement; and as he had some humor and a good supply of man-of-war
slang and sailor's salt phrases, he always made fun.  Next to him in
age and experience, and, of course, in standing in the watch, was an
Englishman, named Harris, of whom I shall have more to say hereafter.
Then, came two or three Americans, who had been the common run of
European and South American voyages, and one who had been in a
"spouter," and, of course, had all the whaling stories to himself.
Last of all, was a broad-backed, thick-headed boy from Cape Cod, who
had been in mackerel schooners, and was making his first voyage in a
square-rigged vessel.  He was born in Hingham, and of course was called
"Bucketmaker."  The other watch was composed of about the same number.
A tall, fine-looking Frenchman, with coal-black whiskers and curly
hair, a first-rate seaman, and named John, (one name is enough for a
sailor,) was the head man of the watch.  Then came two Americans (one
of whom had been a dissipated young man of property and family, and was
reduced to duck trowsers and monthly wages,) a German, an English lad,
named Ben, who belonged on the mizen topsail yard with me, and was a
good sailor for his years, and two Boston boys just from the public
schools.  The carpenter sometimes mustered in the starboard watch, and
was an old sea-dog, a Swede by birth, and accounted the best helmsman
in the ship.  This was our ship's company, beside cook and steward, who
were blacks, three mates, and the captain.

The second day out, the wind drew ahead, and we had to beat up the
coast; so that, in tacking ship, I could see the regulations of the
vessel.  Instead of going wherever was most convenient, and running
from place to place, wherever work was to be done, each man had his
station.  A regular tacking and wearing bill was made out.  The chief
mate commanded on the forecastle, and had charge of the head sails and
the forward part of the ship.  Two of the best men in the ship--the
sailmaker from our watch, and John, the Frenchman, from the other,
worked the forecastle.  The third mate commanded in the waist, and,
with the carpenter and one man, worked the main tack and bowlines; the
cook, ex-officio, the fore sheet, and the steward the main.  The second
mate had charge of the after yards, and let go the lee fore and main
braces.  I was stationed at the weather cross-jack braces; three other
light hands at the lee; one boy at the spanker-sheet and guy; a man and
a boy at the main topsail, top-gallant, and royal braces; and all the
rest of the crew--men and boys--tallied on to the main brace.  Every
one here knew his station, must be there when all hands were called to
put the ship about, and was answerable for every rope committed to him.
Each man's rope must be let go and hauled in at the order, properly
made fast, and neatly coiled away when the ship was about.  As soon as
all hands are at their stations, the captain, who stands on the weather
side of the quarter-deck, makes a sign to the man at the wheel to put
it down, and calls out "Helm's a lee'!"  "Helm's a lee'!" answers the
mate on the forecastle, and the head sheets are let go.  "Raise tacks
and sheets!" says the captain; "tacks and sheets!" is passed forward,
and the fore tack and main sheet are let go.  The next thing is to haul
taut for a swing.  The weather cross-jack braces and the lee main
braces are each belayed together upon two pins, and ready to be let go;
and the opposite braces hauled taut.  "Main topsail haul!" shouts the
captain; the braces are let go; and if he has taken his time well, the
yards swing round like a top; but if he is too late, or too soon, it is
like drawing teeth.  The after yards are then braced up and belayed,
the main sheet hauled aft, the spanker eased over to leeward, and the
men from the braces stand by the head yards.  "Let go and haul!" says
the captain; the second mate lets go the weather fore braces, and the
men haul in to leeward.  The mate, on the forecastle, looks out for the
head yards.  "Well, the fore topsail yard!"  "Top-gallant yard's well!"
"Royal yard too much! Haul into windward! So! well that!" "Well all!"
Then the starboard watch board the main tack, and the larboard watch
lay forward and board the fore tack and haul down the jib sheet,
clapping a tackle upon it, if it blows very fresh. The after yards are
then trimmed, the captain generally looking out for them himself.
"Well the cross-jack yard!"  "Small pull the main top-gallant yard!"
"Well that!"  "Well the mizen top-gallant yard!"  "Cross-jack yards all
well!"  "Well all aft!"  "Haul taut to windward!"  Everything being
now trimmed and in order, each man coils up the rigging at his own
station, and the order is given--"Go below the watch!"

During the last twenty-four hours of the passage, we beat off and on
the land, making a tack about once in four hours, so that I had a
sufficient opportunity to observe the working of the ship; and
certainly, it took no more men to brace about this ship's lower yards,
which were more than fifty feet square, than it did those of the
Pilgrim, which were not much more than half the size; so much depends
upon the manner in which the braces run, and the state of the blocks;
and Captain Wilson, of the Ayacucho, who was afterwards a passenger
with us, upon a trip to windward, said he had no doubt that our ship
worked two men lighter than his brig.

Friday, Sept. 11th.  This morning, at four o'clock, went below, San
Pedro point being about two leagues ahead, and the ship going on under
studding-sails.  In about an hour we were waked up by the hauling of
the chain about decks, and in a few minutes "All hands ahoy!" was
called; and we were all at work, hauling in and making up the
studding-sails, overhauling the chain forward, and getting the anchors
ready.  "The Pilgrim is there at anchor," said some one, as we were
running about decks; and taking a moment's look over the rail, I saw my
old friend, deeply laden, lying at anchor inside of the kelp.  In
coming to anchor, as well as in tacking, each one had his station and
duty.  The light sails were clewed up and furled, the courses hauled up
and the jibs down; then came the topsails in the buntlines, and the
anchor let go.  As soon as she was well at anchor, all hands lay aloft
to furl the topsails; and this, I soon found, was a great matter on
board this ship; for every sailor knows that a vessel is judged of, a
good deal, by the furl of her sails.  The third mate, a sailmaker, and
the larboard watch went upon the fore topsail yard; the second mate,
carpenter, and the starboard watch upon the main; and myself and the
English lad, and the two Boston boys, and the young Cape-Cod man,
furled the mizen topsail.  This sail belonged to us altogether, to reef
and to furl, and not a man was allowed to come upon our yard.  The mate
took us under his special care, frequently making us furl the sail
over, three or four times, until we got the bunt up to a perfect cone,
and the whole sail without a wrinkle.  As soon as each sail was hauled
up and the bunt made, the jigger was bent on to the slack of the
buntlines, and the bunt triced up, on deck.  The mate then took his
place between the knightheads to "twig" the fore, on the windlass to
twig the main, and at the foot of the mainmast, for the mizen; and if
anything was wrong,--too much bunt on one side, clews too taut or too
slack, or any sail abaft the yard,--the whole must be dropped again.
When all was right, the bunts were triced well up, the yard-arm gaskets
passed, so as not to leave a wrinkle forward of the yard--short gaskets
with turns close together.

From the moment of letting go the anchor, when the captain ceases his
care of things, the chief mate is the great man.  With a voice like a
young lion, he was hallooing and bawling, in all directions, making
everything fly, and, at the same time, doing everything well. He was
quite a contrast to the worthy, quiet, unobtrusive mate of the Pilgrim;
not so estimable a man, perhaps, but a far better mate of a vessel; and
the entire change in Captain T----'s conduct, since he took command of
the ship, was owing, no doubt, in a great measure, to this fact.  If
the chief officer wants force, discipline slackens, everything gets out
of joint, the captain interferes continually; that makes a difficulty
between them, which encourages the crew, and the whole ends in a
three-sided quarrel.  But Mr. Brown (the mate of the Alert) wanted no
help from anybody; took everything into his own hands; and was more
likely to encroach upon the authority of the master, than to need any
spurring.  Captain T---- gave his directions to the mate in private,
and, except in coming to anchor, getting under weigh, tacking, reefing
topsails, and other "all-hands-work," seldom appeared in person.  This
is the proper state of things, and while this lasts, and there is a
good understanding aft, everything will go on well.

Having furled all the sails, the royal yards were next to be sent down.
The English lad and myself sent down the main, which was larger than
the Pilgrim's main top-gallant yard; two more light hands, the fore;
and one boy, the mizen.  This order, we always kept while on the coast;
sending them up and down every time we came in and went out of port.
They were all tripped and lowered together, the main on the starboard
side, and the fore and mizen, to port.  No sooner was she all snug,
than tackles were got up on the yards and stays, and the long-boat and
pinnace hove out. The swinging booms were then guyed out, and the boats
made fast by geswarps, and everything in harbor style.  After
breakfast, the hatches were taken off, and all got ready to receive
hides from the Pilgrim.  All day, boats were passing and repassing,
until we had taken her hides from her, and left her in ballast trim.
These hides made but little show in our hold, though they had loaded
the Pilgrim down to the water's edge.  This changing of the hides
settled the question of the destination of the two vessels, which had
been one of some speculation to us.  We were to remain in the leeward
ports, while the Pilgrim was to sail, the next morning, for San
Francisco.  After we had knocked off work, and cleared up decks for the
night, my friend S---- came on board, and spent an hour with me in our
berth between decks. The Pilgrim's crew envied me my place on board the
ship, and seemed to think that I had got a little to windward of them;
especially in the matter of going home first.  S---- was determined to
go home on the Alert, by begging or buying; if Captain T---- would not
let him come on other terms, he would purchase an exchange with some
one of the crew.  The prospect of another year after the Alert should
sail, was rather "too much of the monkey."  About seven o'clock, the
mate came down into the steerage, in fine trim for fun, roused the boys
out of the berth, turned up the carpenter with his fiddle, sent the
steward with lights to put in the between-decks, and set all hands to
dancing.  The between-decks were high enough to allow of jumping; and
being clear, and white, from holystoning, made a fine dancing-hall.
Some of the Pilgrim's crew were in the forecastle, and we all turned-to
and had a regular sailor's shuffle, till eight bells.  The Cape-Cod boy
could dance the true fisherman's jig, barefooted, knocking with his
heels, and slapping the decks with his bare feet, in time with the
music.  This was a favorite amusement of the mate's, who always stood
at the steerage door, looking on, and if the boys would not dance, he
hazed them round with a rope's end, much to the amusement of the men.

The next morning, according to the orders of the agent, the Pilgrim set
sail for the windward, to be gone three or four months.  She got under
weigh with very little fuss, and came so near us as to throw a letter
on board, Captain Faucon standing at the tiller himself, and steering
her as he would a mackerel smack.  When Captain T---- was in command of
the Pilgrim, there was as much preparation and ceremony as there would
be in getting a seventy-four under weigh.  Captain Faucon was a sailor,
every inch of him; he knew what a ship was, and was as much at home in
one, as a cobbler in his stall.  I wanted no better proof of this than
the opinion of the ship's crew, for they had been six months under his
command, and knew what he was; and if sailors allow their captain to be
a good seaman, you may be sure he is one, for that is a thing they are
not always ready to say.

After the Pilgrim left us, we lay three weeks at San Pedro, from the
11th of September until the 2nd of October, engaged in the usual port
duties of landing cargo, taking off hides, etc., etc.  These duties
were much easier, and went on much more agreeably, than on board the
Pilgrim.  "The more, the merrier," is the sailor's maxim; and a boat's
crew of a dozen could take off all the hides brought down in a day,
without much trouble, by division of labor; and on shore, as well as on
board, a good will, and no discontent or grumbling, make everything go
well.  The officer, too, who usually went with us, the third mate, was
a fine young fellow, and made no unnecessary trouble; so that we
generally had quite a sociable time, and were glad to be relieved from
the restraint of the ship.  While here, I often thought of the
miserable, gloomy weeks we had spent in this dull place, in the brig;
discontent and hard usage on board, and four hands to do all the work
on shore.  Give me a big ship. There is more room, more hands, better
outfit, better regulation, more life, and more company.  Another thing
was better arranged here: we had a regular gig's crew.  A light
whale-boat, handsomely painted, and fitted out with stern seats, yoke,
tiller-ropes, etc., hung on the starboard quarter, and was used as the
gig.  The youngest lad in the ship, a Boston boy about thirteen years
old, was coxswain of this boat, and had the entire charge of her, to
keep her clean, and have her in readiness to go and come at any hour.
Four light hands, of about the same size and age, of whom I was one,
formed the crew.  Each had his oar and seat numbered, and we were
obliged to be in our places, have our oars scraped white, our tholepins
in, and the fenders over the side.  The bow-man had charge of the
boat-hook and painter, and the coxswain of the rudder, yoke, and
stern-sheets. Our duty was to carry the captain and agent about, and
passengers off and on; which last was no trifling duty, as the people
on shore have no boats, and every purchaser, from the boy who buys his
pair of shoes, to the trader who buys his casks and bales, were to be
taken off and on, in our boat.  Some days, when people were coming and
going fast, we were in the boat, pulling off and on, all day long, with
hardly time for our meals; making, as we lay nearly three miles from
shore, from forty to fifty miles' rowing in a day. Still, we thought it
the best berth in the ship; for when the gig was employed, we had
nothing to do with the cargo, except small bundles which the passengers
carried with them, and no hides to carry, besides the opportunity of
seeing everybody, making acquaintances, hearing the news, etc.  Unless
the captain or agent were in the boat, we had no officer with us, and
often had fine times with the passengers, who were always willing to
talk and joke with us.  Frequently, too, we were obliged to wait
several hours on shore; when we would haul the boat up on the beach,
and leaving one to watch her, go up to the nearest house, or spend the
time in strolling about the beach, picking up shells, or playing
hopscotch, and other games, on the hard sand.  The rest of the crew
never left the ship, except for bringing heavy goods and taking off
hides; and though we were always in the water, the surf hardly leaving
us a dry thread from morning till night, yet we were young, and the
climate was good, and we thought it much better than the quiet,
hum-drum drag and pull on board ship.  We made the acquaintance of
nearly half of California; for, besides carrying everybody in our
boat,--men, women, and children,--all the messages, letters, and light
packages went by us, and being known by our dress, we found a ready
reception everywhere.

At San Pedro, we had none of this amusement, for, there being but one
house in the place, we, of course, had but little company. All the
variety that I had, was riding, once a week, to the nearest rancho, to
order a bullock down for the ship.

The brig Catalina came in from San Diego, and being bound up to
windward, we both got under weigh at the same time, for a trial of
speed up to Santa Barbara, a distance of about eighty miles. We hove up
and got under sail about eleven o'clock at night, with a light
land-breeze, which died away toward morning, leaving us becalmed only a
few miles from our anchoring-place.  The Catalina, being a small
vessel, of less than half our size, put out sweeps and got a boat
ahead, and pulled out to sea, during the night, so that she had the
sea-breeze earlier and stronger than we did, and we had the
mortification of seeing her standing up the coast, with a fine breeze,
the sea all ruffled about her, while we were becalmed, in-shore.  When
the sea-breeze died away, she was nearly out of sight; and, toward the
latter part of the afternoon, the regular north-west wind set in fresh,
we braced sharp upon it, took a pull at every sheet, tack, and halyard,
and stood after her, in fine style, our ship being very good upon a
tautened bowline. We had nearly five hours of fine sailing, beating
up to windward, by long stretches in and off shore, and evidently
gaining upon the Catalina at every tack.  When this breeze left us, we
were so near as to count the painted ports on her side.  Fortunately,
the wind died away when we were on our inward tack, and she on her
outward, so we were in-shore, and caught the land-breeze first, which
came off upon our quarter, about the middle of the first watch.  All
hands were turned-up, and we set all sail, to the skysails and the
royal studding-sails; and with these, we glided quietly through the
water, leaving the Catalina, which could not spread so much canvas as
we, gradually astern, and, by daylight, were off St. Buenaventura, and
our antagonist nearly out of sight. The sea-breeze, however, favored
her again, while we were becalmed under the headland, and laboring
slowly along, she was abreast of us by noon.  Thus we continued, ahead,
astern, and abreast of one another, alternately; now, far out at sea,
and again, close in under the shore.  On the third morning, we came
into the great bay of Santa Barbara, two hours behind the brig, and
thus lost the bet; though, if the race had been to the point, we should
have beaten her by five or six hours.  This, however, settled the
relative sailing of the vessels, for it was admitted that although she,
being small and light, could gain upon us in very light winds, yet
whenever there was breeze enough to set us agoing, we walked away from
her like hauling in a line; and in beating to windward, which is the
best trial of a vessel, we had much the advantage of her.

Sunday, Oct. 4th.  This was the day of our arrival; and somehow or
other, our captain always managed not only to sail, but to come into
port, on a Sunday.  The main reason for sailing on the Sabbath is not,
as many people suppose, because Sunday is thought a lucky day, but
because it is a leisure day.  During the six days, the crew are
employed upon the cargo and other ship's works, and the Sabbath, being
their only day of rest, whatever additional work can be thrown into
Sunday, is so much gain to the owners.  This is the reason of our
coasters, packets, etc, sailing on the Sabbath.  They get six good
days' work out of the crew, and then throw all the labor of sailing
into the Sabbath.  Thus it was with us, nearly all the time we were on
the coast, and many of our Sabbaths were lost entirely to us.  The
Catholics on shore have no trading and make no journeys on Sunday, but
the American has no national religion, and likes to show his
independence of priestcraft by doing as he chooses on the Lord's day.

Santa Barbara looked very much as it did when I left it five months
before: the long sand beach, with the heavy rollers, breaking upon it
in a continual roar, and the little town, imbedded on the plain, girt
by its amphitheatre of mountains.  Day after day, the sun shone clear
and bright upon the wide bay and the red roofs of the houses;
everything being as still as death, the people really hardly seeming to
earn their sun-light.  Daylight actually seemed thrown away upon them.
We had a few visitors, and collected about a hundred hides, and every
night, at sundown, the gig was sent ashore, to wait for the captain,
who spent his evenings in the town.  We always took our monkey-jackets
with us, and flint and steel, and made a fire on the beach with the
driftwood and the bushes we pulled from the neighboring thickets, and
lay down by it, on the sand.  Sometimes we would stray up to the town,
if the captain was likely to stay late, and pass the time at some of
the houses, in which we were almost always well received by the
inhabitants.  Sometimes earlier and sometimes later, the captain came
down; when, after a good drenching in the surf, we went aboard, changed
our clothes, and turned in for the night--yet not for all the night,
for there was the anchor watch to stand.

This leads me to speak of my watchmate for nine months--and, taking him
all in all, the most remarkable man I have ever seen--Tom Harris.  An
hour, every night, while lying in port, Harris and myself had the deck
to ourselves, and walking fore and aft, night after night, for months,
I learned his whole character and history, and more about foreign
nations, the habits of different people, and especially the secrets of
sailors' lives and hardships, and also of practical seamanship, (in
which he was abundantly capable of instructing me,) than I could ever
have learned elsewhere.  But the most remarkable thing about him, was
the power of his mind.  His memory was perfect; seeming to form a
regular chain, reaching from his earliest childhood up to the time I
knew him, without one link wanting.  His power of calculation, too, was
remarkable.  I called myself pretty quick at figures, and had been
through a course of mathematical studies; but, working by my head, I
was unable to keep within sight of this man, who had never been beyond
his arithmetic: so rapid was his calculation. He carried in his head
not only a log-book of the whole voyage, in which everything was
complete and accurate, and from which no one ever thought of appealing,
but also an accurate registry of all the cargo; knowing, precisely,
where each thing was, and how many hides we took in at every port.

One night, he made a rough calculation of the number of hides that
could be stowed in the lower hold, between the fore and main masts,
taking the depth of hold and breadth of beam, (for he always knew the
dimension of every part of the ship, before he had been a month on
board,) and the average area and thickness of a hide; he came
surprisingly near the number, as it afterwards turned out.  The mate
frequently came to him to know the capacity of different parts of the
vessel, so he could tell the sailmaker very nearly the amount of canvas
he would want for each sail in the ship; for he knew the hoist of every
mast, and spread of every sail, on the head and foot, in feet and
inches.  When we were at sea, he kept a running account, in his head,
of the ship's way--the number of knots and the courses; and if the
courses did not vary much during the twenty-four hours, by taking the
whole progress, and allowing so many eighths southing or northing, to
so many easting or westing; he would make up his reckoning just before
the captain took the sun at noon, and often came wonderfully near the
mark.  Calculation of all kinds was his delight.  He had, in his chest,
several volumes giving accounts of inventions in mechanics, which he
read with great pleasure, and made himself master of.  I doubt if he
ever forgot anything that he read.  The only thing in the way of poetry
that he ever read was Falconer's Shipwreck, which he was delighted
with, and whole pages of which he could repeat.  He knew the name of
every sailor that had ever been his shipmate, and also, of every
vessel, captain, and officer, and the principal dates of each voyage;
and a sailor whom he afterwards fell in with, who had been in a ship
with Harris nearly twelve years before, was very much surprised at
having Harris tell him things about himself which he had entirely
forgotten.  His facts, whether dates or events, no one thought of
disputing; and his opinions, few of the sailors dared to oppose; for,
right or wrong, he always had the best of the argument with them.  His
reasoning powers were remarkable.  I have had harder work maintaining
an argument with him in a watch, even when I knew myself to be right,
and he was only doubting, than I ever had before; not from his
obstinacy, but from his acuteness.  Give him only a little knowledge of
his subject, and, certainly among all the young men of my acquaintance
and standing at college, there was not one whom I had not rather meet,
than this man.  I never answered a question from him, or advanced an
opinion to him, without thinking more than once.  With an iron memory,
he seemed to have your whole past conversation at command, and if you
said a thing now which ill agreed with something said months before, he
was sure to have you on the hip.  In fact, I always felt, when with
him, that I was with no common man. I had a positive respect for his
powers of mind, and felt often that if half the pains had been spent
upon his education which are thrown away, yearly, in our colleges, he
would have been a man of great weight in society.  Like most
self-taught men, he over-estimated the value of an education; and this,
I often told him, though I profited by it myself; for he always treated
me with respect, and often unnecessarily gave way to me, from an
over-estimate of my knowledge.  For the intellectual capacities of all
the rest of the crew, captain and all, he had the most sovereign
contempt.  He was a far better sailor, and probably a better navigator,
than the captain, and had more brains than all the after part of the
ship put together.  The sailors said, "Tom's got a head as long as the
bowsprit," and if any one got into an argument with him, they would
call out--"Ah, Jack! you'd better drop that, as you would a hot potato,
for Tom will turn you inside out before you know it."

I recollect his posing me once on the subject of the Corn Laws. I was
called to stand my watch, and, coming on deck, found him there before
me; and we began, as usual, to walk fore and aft, in the waist.  He
talked about the Corn Laws; asked me my opinion about them, which I
gave him; and my reasons; my small stock of which I set forth to the
best advantage, supposing his knowledge on the subject must be less
than mine, if, indeed, he had any at all.  When I had got through, he
took the liberty of differing from me, and, to my surprise, brought
arguments and facts connected with the subject which were new to me, to
which I was entirely unable to reply.  I confessed that I knew almost
nothing of the subject, and expressed my surprise at the extent of his
information.  He said that, a number of years before, while at a
boarding-house in Liverpool, he had fallen in with a pamphlet on the
subject, and, as it contained calculations, had read it very carefully,
and had ever since wished to find some one who could add to his stock
of knowledge on the question. Although it was many years since he had
seen the book, and it was a subject with which he had no previous
acquaintance, yet he had the chain of reasoning, founded upon
principles of political economy, perfect in his memory; and his facts,
so far as I could judge, were correct; at least, he stated them with
great precision.  The principles of the steam engine, too, he was very
familiar with, having been several months on board of a steamboat, and
made himself master of its secrets.  He knew every lunar star in both
hemispheres, and was a perfect master of his quadrant and sextant.
Such was the man, who, at forty, was still a dog before the mast, at
twelve dollars a month.  The reason of this was to be found in his
whole past life, as I had it, at different times, from himself.

He was an Englishman, by birth, a native of Ilfracomb, in Devonshire.
His father was skipper of a small coaster, from Bristol, and dying,
left him, when quite young, to the care of his mother, by whose
exertions he received a common-school education, passing his winters at
school and his summers in the coasting trade, until his seventeenth
year, when he left home to go upon foreign voyages. Of his mother, he
often spoke with the greatest respect, and said that she was a
strong-minded woman, and had the best system of education he had ever
known; a system which had made respectable men of his three brothers,
and failed only in him, from his own indomitable obstinacy.  One thing
he often mentioned, in which he said his mother differed from all other
mothers that he had ever seen disciplining their children; that was,
that when he was out of humor and refused to eat, instead of putting
his plate away, as most mothers would, and saying that his hunger would
bring him to it, in time, she would stand over him and oblige him to
eat it--every mouthful of it.  It was no fault of hers that he was what
I saw him; and so great was his sense of gratitude for her efforts,
though unsuccessful, that he determined, at the close of the voyage, to
embark for home with all the wages he should get, to spend with and for
his mother, if perchance he should find her alive.

After leaving home, he had spent nearly twenty years, sailing upon all
sorts of voyages, generally out of the ports of New York and Boston.
Twenty years of vice!  Every sin that a sailor knows, he had gone to
the bottom of.  Several times he had been hauled up in the hospitals,
and as often, the great strength of his constitution had brought him
out again in health.  Several times, too, from his known capacity, he
had been promoted to the office of chief mate, and as often, his
conduct when in port, especially his drunkenness, which neither fear
nor ambition could induce him to abandon, put him back into the
forecastle.  One night, when giving me an account of his life, and
lamenting the years of manhood he had thrown away, he said that there,
in the forecastle, at the foot of the steps--a chest of old
clothes--was the result of twenty-two years of hard labor and
exposure--worked like a horse, and treated like a dog.  As he grew
older, he began to feel the necessity of some provision for his later
years, and came gradually to the conviction that rum had been his worst
enemy.  One night, in Havana, a young shipmate of his was brought
aboard drunk, with a dangerous gash in his head, and his money and new
clothes stripped from him.  Harris had seen and been in hundreds of
such scenes as these, but in his then state of mind, it fixed his
determination, and he resolved never to taste another drop of strong
drink, of any kind.  He signed no pledge, and made no vow, but relied
on his own strength of purpose.  The first thing with him was a reason,
and then a resolution, and the thing was done.  The date of his
resolution he knew, of course, to the very hour.  It was three years
before I knew him, and during all that time, nothing stronger than
cider or coffee had passed his lips.  The sailors never thought of
enticing Tom to take a glass, any more than they would of talking to
the ship's compass.  He was now a temperate man for life, and capable
of filling any berth in a ship, and many a high station there is on
shore which is held by a meaner man.

He understood the management of a ship upon scientific principles, and
could give the reason for hauling every rope; and a long experience,
added to careful observation at the time, and a perfect memory, gave
him a knowledge of the expedients and resorts in times of hazard, which
was remarkable, and for which I became much indebted to him, as he took
the greatest pleasure in opening his stores of information to me, in
return for what I was able to do for him.  Stories of tyranny and
hardship which had driven men to piracy;--of the incredible ignorance
of masters and mates, and of horrid brutality to the sick, dead, and
dying; as well as of the secret knavery and impositions practised upon
seamen by connivance of the owners, landlords, and officers; all these
he had, and I could not but believe them; for men who had known him for
fifteen years had never taken him even in an exaggeration, and, as I
have said, his statements were never disputed.  I remember, among other
things, his speaking of a captain whom I had known by report, who never
handed a thing to a sailor, but put it on deck and kicked it to him;
and of another, who was of the best connections in Boston, who
absolutely murdered a lad from Boston that went out with him before the
mast to Sumatra, by keeping him hard at work while ill of the coast
fever, and obliging him to sleep in the close steerage.  (The same
captain has since died of the same fever on the same coast.)

In fact, taking together all that I learned from him of seamanship, of
the history of sailors' lives, of practical wisdom, and of human nature
under new circumstances,--a great history from which many are shut
out,--I would not part with the hours I spent in the watch with that
man for any given hours of my life passed in study and social
intercourse.




CHAPTER XXIV

SAN DIEGO AGAIN--A DESCENT--HURRIED DEPARTURE--A NEW SHIPMATE

Sunday, Oct. 11th.  Set sail this morning for the leeward; passed
within sight of San Pedro, and, to our great joy, did not come to
anchor, but kept directly on to San Diego, where we arrived and moored
ship on.

Thursday, Oct. 15th.  Found here the Italian ship La Rosa, from the
windward, which reported the brig Pilgrim at San Francisco, all well.
Everything was as quiet here as usual.  We discharged our hides, horns,
and tallow, and were ready to sail again on the following Sunday.  I
went ashore to my old quarters, and found the gang at the hide-house
going on in the even tenor of their way, and spent an hour or two,
after dark, at the oven, taking a whiff with my old Kanaka friends, who
really seemed glad to see me again, and saluted me as the Aikane of the
Kanakas.  I was grieved to find that my poor dog Bravo was dead.  He
had sickened and died suddenly, the very day after I sailed in the
Alert.

Sunday was again, as usual, our sailing day, and we got under weigh
with a stiff breeze, which reminded us that it was the latter part of
the autumn, and time to expect SOUTH-EASTERs once more.  We beat up
against a strong head wind, under reefed top-sails, as far as San Juan,
where we came to anchor nearly three miles from the shore, with
slip-ropes on our cables, in the old SOUTH-EASTER style of last winter.
On the passage up, we had an old sea captain on board, who had married
and settled in California, and had not been on salt water for more than
fifteen years.  He was astonished at the changes and improvements that
had been made in ships, and still more at the manner in which we
carried sail; for he was really a little frightened; and said that
while we had top-gallant sails on, he should have been under reefed
topsails. The working of the ship, and her progress to windward, seemed
to delight him, for he said she went to windward as though she were
kedging.

Tuesday, Oct. 20th.  Having got everything ready, we set the agent
ashore, who went up to the mission to hasten down the hides for the
next morning.  This night we had the strictest orders to look out for
SOUTH-EASTERs; and the long, low clouds seemed rather threatening.  But
the night passed over without any trouble, and early the next morning,
we hove out the long-boat and pinnace, lowered away the quarter-boats,
and went ashore to bring off our hides.  Here we were again, in this
romantic spot; a perpendicular hill, twice the height of the ship's
mast-head, with a single circuitous path to the top, and long sand
beach at its base, with the swell of the whole Pacific breaking high
upon it, and our hides ranged in piles on the overhanging summit. The
captain sent me, who was the only one of the crew that had ever been
there before, to the top, to count the hides and pitch them down.
There I stood again, as six months before, throwing off the hides, and
watching them, pitching and scaling, to the bottom, while the men,
dwarfed by the distance, were walking to and fro on the beach, carrying
the hides, as they picked them up, to the distant boats, upon the tops
of their heads.  Two or three boat-loads were sent off, until, at last,
all were thrown down, and the boats nearly loaded again; when we were
delayed by a dozen or twenty hides which had lodged in the recesses of
the hill, and which we could not reach by any missiles, as the general
line of the side was exactly perpendicular, and these places were caved
in, and could not be seen or reached from the top.  As hides are worth
in Boston twelve and a half cents a pound, and the captain's commission
was two per cent, he determined not to give them up; and sent on board
for a pair of top-gallant studding-sail halyards, and requested some
one of the crew to go to the top, and come down by the halyards.  The
older sailors said the boys, who were light and active, ought to go,
while the boys thought that strength and experience were necessary.
Seeing the dilemma, and feeling myself to be near the medium of these
requisites, I offered my services, and went up, with one man to tend
the rope, and prepared for the descent.

We found a stake fastened strongly into the ground, and apparently
capable of holding my weight, to which we made one end of the halyards
well fast, and taking the coil, threw it over the brink. The end, we
saw, just reached to a landing-place, from which the descent to the
beach was easy.  Having nothing on but shirt, trowsers, and hat, the
common sea-rig of warm weather, I had no stripping to do, and began my
descent, by taking hold of the rope in each hand, and slipping down,
sometimes with hands and feet round the rope, and sometimes breasting
off with one hand and foot against the precipice, and holding on to the
rope with the other.  In this way I descended until I came to a place
which shelved in, and in which the hides were lodged.  Keeping hold of
the rope with one hand, I scrambled in, and by the other hand and feet
succeeded in dislodging all the hides, and continued on my way.  Just
below this place, the precipice projected again, and going over the
projection, I could see nothing below me but the sea and the rocks upon
which it broke, and a few gulls flying in mid-air.  I got down in
safety, pretty well covered with dirt; and for my pains was told, "What
a d--d fool you were to risk your life for a half a dozen hides!"

While we were carrying the hides to the boat, I perceived, what I had
been too busy to observe before, that heavy black clouds were rolling
up from seaward, a strong swell heaving in, and every sign of a
SOUTH-EASTER.  The captain hurried everything.  The hides were pitched
into the boats; and, with some difficulty, and by wading nearly up to
our armpits, we got the boats through the surf, and began pulling
aboard.  Our gig's crew towed the pinnace astern of the gig, and the
launch was towed by six men in the jolly-boat.  The ship was lying
three miles off, pitching at her anchor, and the farther we pulled, the
heavier grew the swell.  Our boat stood nearly up and down several
times; the pinnace parted her towline, and we expected every moment to
see the launch swamped.  We at length got alongside, our boats half
full of water; and now came the greatest difficulty of all,--unloading
the boats, in a heavy sea, which pitched them about so that it was
almost impossible to stand in them; raising them sometimes even with
the rail, and again dropping them below the bends.  With great
difficulty, we got all the hides aboard and stowed under hatches, the
yard and stay tackles hooked on, and the launch and pinnace hoisted,
checked, and griped.  The quarter-boats were then hoisted up, and we
began heaving in on the chain. Getting the anchor was no easy work in
such a sea, but as we were not coming back to this port, the captain
determined not to slip.  The ship's head pitched into the sea, and the
water rushed through the hawse-holes, and the chain surged so as almost
to unship the barrel of the windlass.  "Hove short, sir!" said the
mate.  "Aye, aye!  Weather-bit your chain and loose the topsails!  Make
sail on her, men--with a will!"  A few moments served to loose the
topsails, which were furled with reefs, to sheet them home, and hoist
them up.  "Bear a hand!" was the order of the day; and every one saw
the necessity of it, for the gale was already upon us.  The ship broke
out her own anchor, which we catted and fished, after a fashion, and
stood off from the lee-shore against a heavy head sea, under reefed
topsails, fore-topmast staysail and spanker.  The fore course was given
to her, which helped her a little; but as she hardly held her own
against the sea which was settling her leeward--"Board the main tack!"
shouted the captain; when the tack was carried forward and taken to the
windlass, and all hands called to the handspikes. The great sail
bellied out horizontally as though it would lift up the main stay; the
blocks rattled and flew about; but the force of machinery was too much
for her.  "Heave ho!  Heave and pawl!  Yo, heave, hearty, ho!" and, in
time with the song, by the force of twenty strong arms, the windlass
came slowly round, pawl after pawl, and the weather clew of the sail
was brought down to the waterways. The starboard watch hauled aft the
sheet, and the ship tore through the water like a mad horse, quivering
and shaking at every joint, and dashing from its head the foam, which
flew off at every blow, yards and yards to leeward.  A half hour of
such sailing served our turn, when the clews of the sail were hauled
up, the sail furled, and the ship, eased of her press, went more
quietly on her way. Soon after, the foresail was reefed, and we
mizen-top men were sent up to take another reef in the mizen topsail.
This was the first time I had taken a weather earing, and I felt not a
little proud to sit, astride of the weather yard-arm, pass the earing,
and sing out "Haul out to leeward!"  From this time until we got to
Boston, the mate never suffered any one but our own gang to go upon the
mizen topsail yard, either for reefing or furling, and the young
English lad and myself generally took the earings between us.

Having cleared the point and got well out to sea, we squared away the
yards, made more sail, and stood on, nearly before the wind, for San
Pedro.  It blew strong, with some rain, nearly all night, but fell calm
toward morning, and the gale having gone over, we came-to,--

Thursday, Oct. 22d, at San Pedro, in the old SOUTH-EASTER berth, a
league from shore, with a slip-rope on the cable, reefs in the
topsails, and rope-yarns for gaskets.  Here we lay ten days, with the
usual boating, hide-carrying, rolling of cargo up the steep hill,
walking barefooted over stones, and getting drenched in salt water.

The third day after our arrival, the Rosa came in from San Juan, where
she went the day after the SOUTH-EASTER.  Her crew said it was as
smooth as a mill-pond, after the gale, and she took off nearly a
thousand hides, which had been brought down for us, and which we lost
in consequence of the SOUTH-EASTER.  This mortified us; not only that
an Italian ship should have got to windward of us in the trade, but
because every thousand hides went toward completing the forty thousand
which we were to collect before we could say good-by to California.

While lying here, we shipped one new hand, an Englishman, of about two
or three and twenty, who was quite an acquisition, as he proved to be a
good sailor, could sing tolerably, and, what was of more importance to
me, had a good education, and a somewhat remarkable history.  He called
himself George P. Marsh; professed to have been at sea from a small
boy, and to have served his time in the smuggling trade between Germany
and the coasts of France and England.  Thus he accounted for his
knowledge of the French language, which he spoke and read as well as he
did English; but his cutter education would not account for his
English, which was far too good to have been learned in a smuggler; for
he wrote an uncommonly handsome hand, spoke with great correctness, and
frequently, when in private talk with me, quoted from books, and showed
a knowledge of the customs of society, and particularly of the
formalities of the various English courts of law, and of Parliament,
which surprised me. Still, he would give no other account of himself
than that he was educated in a smuggler.  A man whom we afterwards fell
in with, who had been a shipmate of George's a few years before, said
that he heard at the boarding-house from which they shipped, that
George had been at college, (probably a naval one, as he knew no Latin
or Greek,) where he learned French and mathematics.  He was by no means
the man by nature that Harris was.  Harris had made everything of his
mind and character in spite of obstacles; while this man had evidently
been born in a different rank, and educated early in life accordingly,
but had been a vagabond, and done nothing for himself since.  What had
been given to him by others, was all that made him to differ from those
about him; while Harris had made himself what he was.  Neither had
George the character, strength of mind, acuteness, or memory of Harris;
yet there was about him the remains of a pretty good education, which
enabled him to talk perhaps beyond his brains, and a high spirit and
sense of honor, which years of a dog's life had not broken.  After he
had been a little while on board, we learned from him his remarkable
history, for the last two years, which we afterwards heard confirmed in
such a manner, as put the truth of it beyond a doubt.

He sailed from New York in the year 1833, if I mistake not, before the
mast, in the brig Lascar, for Canton.  She was sold in the East Indies,
and he shipped at Manilla, in a small schooner, bound on a trading
voyage among the Ladrone and Pelew Islands.  On one of the latter
islands, their schooner was wrecked on a reef, and they were attacked
by the natives, and, after a desperate resistance, in which all their
number except the captain, George, and a boy, were killed or drowned,
they surrendered, and were carried bound, in a canoe, to a neighboring
island.  In about a month after this, an opportunity occurred by which
one of their number might get away.  I have forgotten the
circumstances, but only one could go, and they yielded to the captain,
upon his promising to send them aid if he escaped.  He was successful
in his attempt; got on board an American vessel, went back to Manilla,
and thence to America, without making any effort for their rescue, or
indeed, as George afterwards discovered, without even mentioning their
case to any one in Manilla.  The boy that was with George died, and he
being alone, and there being no chance for his escape, the natives soon
treated him with kindness, and even with attention.  They painted him,
tattooed his body, (for he would never consent to be marked in the face
or hands,) gave him two or three wives; and, in fact, made quite a pet
of him.  In this way, he lived for thirteen months, in a fine climate,
with a plenty to eat, half naked, and nothing to do.  He soon, however,
became tired, and went round the island, on different pretences, to
look out for a sail.  One day, he was out fishing in a small canoe with
another man, when he saw a large sail to the windward, about a league
and a half off, passing abreast of the island and standing westward.
With some difficulty, he persuaded the islander to go off with him to
the ship, promising to return with a good supply of rum and tobacco.
These articles, which the islanders had got a taste of from American
traders, were too strong a temptation for the fellow, and he consented.
They paddled off in the track of the ship, and lay-to until she came
down to them.  George stepped on board the ship, nearly naked, painted
from head to foot, and in no way distinguishable from his companion
until he began to speak. Upon this, the people on board were not a
little astonished; and, having learned his story, the captain had him
washed and clothed, and sending away the poor astonished native with a
knife or two and some tobacco and calico, took George with him on the
voyage. This was the ship Cabot, of New York, Captain Low.  She was
bound to Manilla, from across the Pacific, and George did seaman's duty
in her until her arrival in Manilla, when he left her, and shipped in a
brig bound to the Sandwich Islands.  From Oahu, he came, in the British
brig Clementine, to Monterey, as second officer, where, having some
difficulty with the captain, he left her, and coming down the coast,
joined us at San Pedro.  Nearly six months after this, among some
papers we received by an arrival from Boston, we found a letter from
Captain Low, of the Cabot, published immediately upon his arrival at
New York, and giving all the particulars just as we had them from
George.  The letter was published for the information of the friends of
George, and Captain Low added, that he left him at Manilia to go to
Oahu, and he had heard nothing of him since.

George had an interesting journal of his adventures in the Pelew
Islands, which he had written out at length, in a handsome hand, and in
correct English.




CHAPTER XXV

RUMORS OF WAR--A SPOUTER--SLIPPING FOR A SOUTH-EASTER--A GALE

Sunday, November 1st.  Sailed this day, (Sunday again,) for Santa
Barbara, where we arrived on the 5th.  Coming round St. Buenaventura,
and nearing the anchorage, we saw two vessels in port, a large
full-rigged, and a small hermaphrodite brig.  The former, the crew said
must be the Pilgrim; but I had been too long in the Pilgrim to be
mistaken in her, and I was right in differing from them; for, upon
nearer approach, her long, low shear, sharp bows, and raking masts,
told quite another story.  "Man-of-war brig," said some of them;
"Baltimore clipper," said others; the Ayacucho, thought I; and soon the
broad folds of the beautiful banner of St. George,--white field with
blood-red border and cross,--were displayed from her peak.  A few
minutes put it beyond a doubt, and we were lying by the side of the
Ayacucho, which had sailed from San Diego about nine months before,
while we were lying there in the Pilgrim.  She had since been to
Valparaiso, Callao, and the Sandwich Islands, and had just come upon
the coast.  Her boat came on board, bringing Captain Wilson; and in
half an hour the news was all over the ship that there was a war
between the United States and France.  Exaggerated accounts reached the
forecastle. Battles had been fought, a large French fleet was in the
Pacific, etc., etc.; and one of the boat's crew of the Ayacucho said
that when they left Callao, a large French frigate and the American
frigate Brandywine, which were lying there, were going outside to have
a battle, and that the English frigate Blonde was to be umpire, and see
fair play.  Here was important news for us.  Alone, on an unprotected
coast, without an American man-of-war within some thousands of miles,
and the prospect of a voyage home through the whole length of the
Pacific and Atlantic oceans!  A French prison seemed a much more
probable place of destination than the good port of Boston.  However,
we were too salt to believe every yarn that comes into the forecastle,
and waited to hear the truth of the matter from higher authority.  By
means of a supercargo's clerk, I got the account of the matter, which
was, that the governments had had difficulty about the payment of a
debt; that war had been threatened and prepared for, but not actually
declared, although it was pretty generally anticipated.  This was not
quite so bad, yet was no small cause of anxiety.  But we cared very
little about the matter ourselves.  "Happy go lucky" with Jack!  We did
not believe that a French prison would be much worse than
"hide-droghing" on the coast of California; and no one who has not been
on a long, dull voyage, shut up in one ship, can conceive of the effect
of monotony upon one's thoughts and wishes.  The prospect of a change
is like a green spot in a desert, and the remotest probability of great
events and exciting scenes gives a feeling of delight, and sets life in
motion, so as to give a pleasure, which any one not in the same state
would be entirely unable to account for. In fact, a more jovial night
we had not passed in the forecastle for months.  Every one seemed in
unaccountably high spirits. An undefined anticipation of radical
changes, of new scenes, and great doings, seemed to have possessed
every one, and the common drudgery of the vessel appeared contemptible.
Here was a new vein opened; a grand theme of conversation, and a topic
for all sorts of discussions.  National feeling was wrought up.  Jokes
were cracked upon the only Frenchman in the ship, and comparisons made
between "old horse" and "soup meagre," etc., etc.

We remained in uncertainty as to this war for more than two months,
when an arrival from the Sandwich Islands brought us the news of an
amicable arrangement of the difficulties.

The other vessel which we found in port was the hermaphrodite brig
Avon, from the Sandwich Islands.  She was fitted up in handsome style;
fired a gun and ran her ensign up and down at sunrise and sunset; had a
band of four or five pieces of music on board, and appeared rather like
a pleasure yacht than a trader; yet, in connection with the Loriotte,
Clementine, Bolivar, Convoy, and other small vessels, belonging to
sundry Americans at Oahu, she carried on a great trade--legal and
illegal--in otter skins, silks, teas, specie, etc.

The second day after our arrival, a full-rigged brig came round the
point from the northward, sailed leisurely through the bay, and stood
off again for the south-east, in the direction of the large island of
Catalina.  The next day the Avon got under weigh, and stood in the same
direction, bound for San Pedro.  This might do for marines and
Californians, but we knew the ropes too well. The brig was never again
seen on the coast, and the Avon arrived at San Pedro in about a week,
with a full cargo of Canton and American goods.

This was one of the means of escaping the heavy duties the Mexicans lay
upon all imports.  A vessel comes on the coast, enters a moderate cargo
at Monterey, which is the only custom-house, and commences trading.  In
a month or more, having sold a large part of her cargo, she stretches
over to Catalina, or other of the large uninhabited islands which lie
off the coast, in a trip from port to port, and supplies herself with
choice goods from a vessel from Oahu, which has been lying off and on
the islands, waiting for her.  Two days after the sailing of the Avon,
the Loriotte came in from the leeward, and without doubt had also a
snatch at the brig's cargo.

Tuesday, Nov. 10th.  Going ashore, as usual, in the gig, just before
sundown, to bring off the captain, we found, upon taking in the captain
and pulling off again, that our ship, which lay the farthest out, had
run up her ensign.  This meant "Sail ho!" of course, but as we were
within the point we could see nothing. "Give way, boys!  Give way!  Lay
out on your oars, and long stroke!" said the captain; and stretching to
the whole length of our arms, bending back again, so that our backs
touched the thwarts, we sent her through the water like a rocket.  A
few minutes of such pulling opened the islands, one after another, in
range of the point, and gave us a view of the Canal, where was a ship,
under top-gallant sails, standing in, with a light breeze, for the
anchorage.  Putting the boat's head in the direction of the ship, the
captain told us to lay out again; and we needed no spurring, for the
prospect of boarding a new ship, perhaps from home, hearing the news
and having something to tell of when we got back, was excitement enough
for us, and we gave way with a will.  Captain Nye, of the Loriotte, who
had been an old whaleman, was in the stern-sheets, and fell mightily
into the spirit of it.  "Bend your backs and break your oars!" said he.
"Lay me on, Captain Bunker!"  "There she flukes!" and other
exclamations, peculiar to whalemen.  In the meantime, it fell flat
calm, and being within a couple of miles of the ship, we expected to
board her in a few moments, when a sudden breeze sprung up, dead ahead
for the ship, and she braced up and stood off toward the islands, sharp
on the larboard tack, making good way through the water.  This, of
course, brought us up, and we had only to "ease larboard oars; pull
round starboard!" and go aboard the Alert, with something very like a
flea in the ear. There was a light land-breeze all night, and the ship
did not come to anchor until the next morning.  As soon as her anchor
was down, we went aboard, and found her to be the whaleship, Wilmington
and Liverpool Packet, of New Bedford, last from the "off-shore ground,"
with nineteen hundred barrels of oil.  A "spouter" we knew her to be as
soon as we saw her, by her cranes and boats, and by her stump
top-gallant masts, and a certain slovenly look to the sails, rigging,
spars and hull; and when we got on board, we found everything to
correspond,--spouter fashion.  She had a false deck, which was rough
and oily, and cut up in every direction by the chimes of oil casks; her
rigging was slack and turning white; no paint on the spars or blocks;
clumsy seizings and straps without covers, and homeward-bound splices
in every direction.  Her crew, too, were not in much better order.  Her
captain was a slab-sided, shamble-legged Quaker, in a suit of brown,
with a broad-brimmed hat, and sneaking about decks, like a sheep, with
his head down; and the men looked more like fishermen and farmers than
they did like sailors.

Though it was by no means cold weather, (we having on only our red
shirts and duck trowsers,) they all had on woollen trowsers--not blue
and shipshape--but of all colors--brown, drab, grey, aye, and green,
with suspenders over their shoulders, and pockets to put their hands
in.  This, added to guernsey frocks, striped comforters about the neck,
thick cowhide boots, woollen caps, and a strong, oily smell, and a
decidedly green look, will complete the description.  Eight or ten were
on the fore-topsail yard, and as many more in the main, furling the
topsails, while eight or ten were hanging about the forecastle, doing
nothing.  This was a strange sight for a vessel coming to anchor; so we
went up to them, to see what was the matter. One of them, a stout,
hearty-looking fellow, held out his leg and said he had the scurvy;
another had cut his hand; and others had got nearly well, but said that
there were plenty aloft to furl the sails, so they were sogering on the
forecastle.  There was only one "splicer" on board, a fine-looking old
tar, who was in the bunt of the fore-topsail.  He was probably the only
sailor in the ship, before the mast.  The mates, of course, and the
boat-steerers, and also two or three of the crew, had been to sea
before, but only whaling voyages; and the greater part of the crew were
raw hands, just from the bush, as green as cabbages, and had not yet
got the hay-seed out of their heads.  The mizen topsail hung in the
bunt-lines until everything was furled forward.  Thus a crew of thirty
men were half an hour in doing what would have been done in the Alert
with eighteen hands to go aloft, in fifteen or twenty minutes.

We found they had been at sea six or eight months, and had no news to
tell us; so we left them, and promised to get liberty to come on board
in the evening, for some curiosities, etc.  Accordingly, as soon as we
were knocked off in the evening and had got supper, we obtained leave,
took a boat, and went aboard and spent an hour or two.  They gave us
pieces of whalebone, and the teeth and other parts of curious sea
animals, and we exchanged books with them--a practice very common among
ships in foreign ports, by which you get rid of the books you have read
and re-read, and a supply of new ones in their stead, and Jack is not
very nice as to their comparative value.

Thursday, Nov. 12th.  This day was quite cool in the early part, and
there were black clouds about; but as it was often so in the morning,
nothing was apprehended, and all the captains went ashore together, to
spend the day.  Towards noon, the clouds hung heavily over the
mountains, coming half way down the hills that encircle the town of
Santa Barbara, and a heavy swell rolled in from the south-east.  The
mate immediately ordered the gig's crew away, and at the same time, we
saw boats pulling ashore from the other vessels.  Here was a grand
chance for a rowing match, and every one did his best.  We passed the
boats of the Ayacucho and Loriotte, but could gain nothing upon, and
indeed, hardly hold our own with, the long, six-oared boat of the
whale-ship.  They reached the breakers before us; but here we had the
advantage of them, for, not being used to the surf, they were obliged
to wait to see us beach our boat, just as, in the same place, nearly a
year before, we, in the Pilgrim, were glad to be taught by a boat's
crew of Kanakas.

We had hardly got the boats beached, and their heads out, before our
old friend, Bill Jackson, the handsome English sailor, who steered the
Loriotte's boat, called out that the brig was adrift; and, sure enough,
she was dragging her anchors, and drifting down into the bight of the
bay.  Without waiting for the captain, (for there was no one on board
but the mate and steward,) he sprung into the boat, called the Kanakas
together, and tried to put off. But the Kanakas, though capital
water-dogs, were frightened by their vessel's being adrift, and by the
emergency of the case, and seemed to lose their faculties.  Twice,
their boat filled, and came broadside upon the beach.  Jackson swore at
them for a parcel of savages, and promised to flog every one of them.
This made the matter no better; when we came forward, told the Kanakas
to take their seats in the boat, and, going two on each side, walked
out with her till it was up to our shoulders, and gave them a shove,
when, giving way with their oars, they got her safely into the long,
regular swell.  In the mean time, boats had put off from our ships and
the whaler, and coming all on board the brig together, they let go the
other anchor, paid out chain, braced the yards to the wind, and brought
the vessel up.

In a few minutes, the captains came hurrying down, on the run; and
there was no time to be lost, for the gale promised to be a severe one,
and the surf was breaking upon the beach, three deep, higher and higher
every instant.  The Ayacucho's boat, pulled by four Kanakas, put off
first, and as they had no rudder or steering oar, would probably never
have got off, had we not waded out with them, as far as the surf would
permit.  The next that made the attempt was the whale-boat, for we,
being the most experienced "beach-combers," needed no help, and staid
till the last.  Whalemen make the best boats' crews in the world for a
long pull, but this landing was new to them, and notwithstanding the
examples they had had, they slued round and were hove up--boat, oars,
and men--altogether, high and dry upon the sand.  The second time, they
filled, and had to turn their boat over, and set her off again.  We
could be of no help to them, for they were so many as to be in one
another's way, without the addition of our numbers.  The third time,
they got off, though not without shipping a sea which drenched them
all, and half filled their boat, keeping them baling, until they
reached their ship.  We now got ready to go off, putting the boat's
head out; English Ben and I, who were the largest, standing on each
side of the bows, to keep her "head on" to the sea, two more shipping
and manning the two after oars, and the captain taking the steering
oar.  Two or three Spaniards, who stood upon the beach looking at us,
wrapped their cloaks about them, shook their heads, and muttered
"Caramba!"  They had no taste for such doings; in fact, the hydrophobia
is a national malady, and shows itself in their persons as well as
their actions.

Watching for a "smooth chance," we determined to show the other boats
the way it should be done; and, as soon as ours floated, ran out with
her, keeping her head on, with all our strength, and the help of the
captain's oar, and the two after oarsmen giving way regularly and
strongly, until our feet were off the ground, we tumbled into the bows,
keeping perfectly still, from fear of hindering the others.  For some
time it was doubtful how it would go.  The boat stood nearly up and
down in the water, and the sea, rolling from under her, let her fall
upon the water with a force which seemed almost to stave her bottom in.
By quietly sliding two oars forward, along the thwarts, without
impeding the rowers, we shipped two bow oars, and thus, by the help of
four oars and the captain's strong arm, we got safely off, though we
shipped several seas, which left us half full of water.  We pulled
alongside of the Loriotte, put her skipper on board, and found her
making preparations for slipping, and then pulled aboard our own ship.
Here Mr. Brown, always "on hand," had got everything ready, so that we
had only to hook on the gig and hoist it up, when the order was given
to loose the sails.  While we were on the yards, we saw the Loriotte
under weigh, and before our yards were mast-headed, the Ayacucho had
spread her wings, and, with yards braced sharp up, was standing athwart
our hawse.  There is no prettier sight in the world than a full-rigged,
clipper-built brig, sailing sharp on the wind.  In a moment, our
slip-rope was gone, the head-yards filled away, and we were off.  Next
came the whaler; and in a half an hour from the time when four vessels
were lying quietly at anchor, without a rag out, or a sign of motion,
the bay was deserted, and four white clouds were standing off to sea.
Being sure of clearing the point, we stood off with our yards a little
braced in, while the Ayacucho went off with a taut bowline, which
brought her to windward of us. During all this day, and the greater
part of the night, we had the usual SOUTH-EASTER entertainment, a gale
of wind, variegated and finally topped off with a drenching rain of
three or four hours. At daybreak, the clouds thinned off and rolled
away, and the sun came up clear.  The wind, instead of coming out from
the northward, as is usual, blew steadily and freshly from the
anchoring-ground. This was bad for us, for, being "flying light," with
little more than ballast trim, we were in no condition for showing off
on a taut bowline, and had depended upon a fair wind, with which, by
the help of our light sails and studding-sails, we meant to have been
the first at the anchoring-ground; but the Ayacucho was a good league
to windward of us, and was standing in, in fine style.  The whaler,
however, was as far to leeward of us, and the Loriotte was nearly out
of sight, among the islands, up the Canal. By hauling every brace and
bowline, and clapping watch-tackles upon all the sheets and halyards,
we managed to hold our own, and drop the leeward vessels a little in
every tack.  When we reached the anchoring-ground, the Ayacucho had got
her anchor, furled her sails, squared her yards, and was lying as
quietly as if nothing had happened for the last twenty-four hours.

We had our usual good luck in getting our anchor without letting go
another, and were all snug, with our boats at the boom-ends, in half an
hour.  In about two hours more, the whaler came in, and made a clumsy
piece of work in getting her anchor, being obliged to let go her best
bower, and finally, to get out a kedge and a hawser. They were
heave-ho-ing, stopping and unstopping, pawling, catting, and fishing,
for three hours; and the sails hung from the yards all the afternoon,
and were not furled until sundown.  The Loriotte came in just after
dark, and let go her anchor, making no attempt to pick up the other
until the next day.

This affair led to a great dispute as to the sailing of our ship and
the Ayacucho.  Bets were made between the captains, and the crews took
it up in their own way; but as she was bound to leeward and we to
windward, and merchant captains cannot deviate, a trial never took
place; and perhaps it was well for us that it did not, for the Ayacucho
had been eight years in the Pacific, in every part of it--Valparaiso,
Sandwich Islands, Canton, California, and all, and was called the
fastest merchantman that traded in the Pacific, unless it was the brig
John Gilpin, and perhaps the ship Ann McKim of Baltimore.

Saturday, Nov. 14th.  This day we got under weigh, with the agent and
several Spaniards of note, as passengers, bound up to Monterey. We went
ashore in the gig to bring them off with their baggage, and found them
waiting on the beach, and a little afraid about going off, as the surf
was running very high.  This was nuts to us; for we liked to have a
Spaniard wet with salt water; and then the agent was very much disliked
by the crew, one and all; and we hoped, as there was no officer in the
boat, to have a chance to duck them; for we knew that they were such
"marines" that they would not know whether it was our fault or not.
Accordingly, we kept the boat so far from shore as to oblige them to
wet their feet in getting into her; and then waited for a good high
comber, and letting the head slue a little round, sent the whole force
of the sea into the stern-sheets, drenching them from head to feet. The
Spaniards sprang out of the boat, swore, and shook themselves and
protested against trying it again; and it was with the greatest
difficulty that the agent could prevail upon them to make another
attempt.  The next time we took care, and went off easily enough, and
pulled aboard.  The crew came to the side to hoist in their baggage,
and we gave them the wink, and they heartily enjoyed the half-drowned
looks of the company.

Everything being now ready, and the passengers aboard, we ran up the
ensign and broad pennant, (for there was no man-of-war, and we were the
largest vessel on the coast,) and the other vessels ran up their
ensigns.  Having hove short, cast off the gaskets, and made the bunt of
each sail fast by the jigger, with a man on each yard; at the word, the
whole canvas of the ship was loosed, and with the greatest rapidity
possible, everything was sheeted home and hoisted up, the anchor
tripped and catheaded, and the ship under headway.  We were determined
to show the "spouter" how things could be done in a smart ship, with a
good crew, though not more than half their number.  The royal yards
were all crossed at once, and royals and skysails set, and, as we had
the wind free, the booms were run out, and every one was aloft, active
as cats, laying out on the yards and booms, reeving the studding-sail
gear; and sail after sail the captain piled upon her, until she was
covered with canvas, her sails looking like a great white cloud resting
upon a black speck.  Before we doubled the point, we were going at a
dashing rate, and leaving the shipping far astern.  We had a fine
breeze to take us through the Canal, as they call this bay of forty
miles long by ten wide.  The breeze died away at night, and we were
becalmed all day on Sunday, about half way between Santa Barbara and
Point Conception.  Sunday night we had a light, fair wind, which set us
up again; and having a fine sea-breeze on the first part of Monday, we
had the prospect of passing, without any trouble, Point
Conception,--the Cape Horn of California, where it begins to blow the
first of January, and blows all the year round.  Toward the latter part
of the afternoon, however, the regular northwest wind, as usual, set
in, which brought in our studding-sails, and gave us the chance of
beating round the Point, which we were now just abreast of, and which
stretched off into the Pacific, high, rocky and barren, forming the
central point of the coast for hundreds of miles north and south.  A
cap-full of wind will be a bag-full here, and before night our royals
were furled, and the ship was laboring hard under her top-gallant
sails.  At eight bells our watch went below, leaving her with as much
sail as she could stagger under, the water flying over the forecastle
at every plunge.  It was evidently blowing harder, but then there was
not a cloud in the sky, and the sun had gone down bright.

We had been below but a short time, before we had the usual
premonitions of a coming gale: seas washing over the whole forward part
of the vessel, and her bows beating against them with a force and sound
like the driving of piles.  The watch, too, seemed very busy trampling
about decks, and singing out at the ropes.  A sailor can always tell,
by the sound, what sail is coming in, and, in a short time, we heard
the top-gallant sails come in, one after another, and then the flying
jib.  This seemed to ease her a good deal, and we were fast going off
to the land of Nod, when--bang, bang, bang--on the scuttle, and "All
hands, reef topsails, ahoy!" started us out of our berths; and, it not
being very cold weather, we had nothing extra to put on, and were soon
on deck.  I shall never forget the fineness of the sight. It was a
clear, and rather a chilly night; the stars were twinkling with an
intense brightness, and as far as the eye could reach, there was not a
cloud to be seen.  The horizon met the sea in a defined line.  A
painter could not have painted so clear a sky. There was not a speck
upon it.  Yet it was blowing great guns from the north-west.  When you
can see a cloud to windward, you feel that there is a place for the
wind to come from; but here it seemed to come from nowhere.  No person
could have told, from the heavens, by their eyesight alone, that it was
not a still summer's night. One reef after another, we took in the
topsails, and before we could get them hoisted up, we heard a sound
like a short, quick rattling of thunder, and the jib was blown to atoms
out of the bolt-rope.  We got the topsails set, and the fragments of
the jib stowed away, and the fore-topmast staysail set in its place,
when the great mainsail gaped open, and the sail ripped from head to
foot.  "Lay up on that main-yard and furl the sail, before it blows to
tatters!" shouted the captain; and in a moment, we were up, gathering
the remains of it upon the yard.  We got it wrapped, round the yard,
and passed gaskets over it as snugly as possible, and were just on deck
again, when, with another loud rent, which was heard throughout the
ship, the fore-topsail, which had been double-reefed, split in two,
athwartships, just below the reefband, from earing to earing.  Here
again it was down yard, haul out reef-tackles, and lay out upon the
yard for reefing. By hauling the reef-tackles chock-a-block, we took
the strain from the other earings, and passing the close-reef earing,
and knotting the points carefully, we succeeded in setting the sail,
close-reefed.

We had but just got the rigging coiled up, and were waiting to hear "go
below the watch!" when the main royal worked loose from the gaskets,
and blew directly out to leeward, flapping, and shaking the mast like a
wand.  Here was a job for somebody.  The royal must come in or be cut
adrift, or the mast would be snapped short off. All the light hands in
the starboard watch were sent up, one after another, but they could do
nothing with it.  At length, John, the tall Frenchman, the head of the
starboard watch, (and a better sailor never stepped upon a deck,)
sprang aloft, and, by the help of his long arms and legs, succeeded,
after a hard struggle,--the sail blowing over the yard-arm to leeward,
and the skysail blowing directly over his head--in smothering it, and
frapping it with long pieces of sinnet.  He came very near being blown
or shaken from the yard, several times, but he was a true sailor, every
finger a fish-hook.  Having made the sail snug, he prepared to send the
yard down, which was a long and difficult job; for, frequently, he was
obliged to stop and hold on with all his might, for several minutes,
the ship pitching so as to make it impossible to do anything else at
that height.  The yard at length came down safe, and after it, the fore
and mizen royal-yards were sent down.  All hands were then sent aloft,
and for an hour or two we were hard at work, making the booms well
fast; unreeving the studding-sail and royal and skysail gear; getting
rolling-ropes on the yards; setting up the weather breast-backstays;
and making other preparations for a storm.  It was a fine night for a
gale; just cool and bracing enough for quick work, without being cold,
and as bright as day.  It was sport to have a gale in such weather as
this.  Yet it blew like a hurricane.  The wind seemed to come with a
spite, an edge to it, which threatened to scrape us off the yards.  The
mere force of the wind was greater than I had ever seen it before; but
darkness, cold, and wet are the worst parts of a storm to a sailor.

Having got on deck again, we looked round to see what time of night it
was, and whose watch.  In a few minutes the man at the wheel struck
four bells, and we found that the other watch was out, and our own half
out.  Accordingly, the starboard watch went below, and left the ship to
us for a couple of hours, yet with orders to stand by for a call.

Hardly had they got below, before away went the fore-topmast staysail,
blown to ribbons.  This was a small sail, which we could manage in the
watch, so that we were not obliged to call up the other watch. We laid
out upon the bowsprit, where we were under water half the time, and
took in the fragments of the sail, and as she must have some head sail
on her, prepared to bend another staysail.  We got the new one out,
into the nettings; seized on the tack, sheets, and halyards, and the
hanks; manned the halyards, cut adrift the frapping lines, and hoisted
away; but before it was half way up the stay, it was blown all to
pieces.  When we belayed the halyards, there was nothing left but the
bolt-rope.  Now large eyes began to show themselves in the foresail,
and knowing that it must soon go, the mate ordered us upon the yard to
furl it.  Being unwilling to call up the watch who had been on deck all
night, he roused out the carpenter, sailmaker, cook, steward, and other
idlers, and, with their help, we manned the foreyard, and after nearly
half an hour's struggle, mastered the sail, and got it well furled
round the yard.  The force of the wind had never been greater than at
this moment.  In going up the rigging, it seemed absolutely to pin us
down to the shrouds; and on the yard, there was no such thing as
turning a face to windward.  Yet here was no driving sleet, and
darkness, and wet, and cold, as off Cape Horn; and instead of a stiff
oil-cloth suit, south-wester caps, and thick boots, we had on hats,
round jackets, duck trowsers, light shoes, and everything light and
easy.  All these things make a great difference to a sailor.  When we
got on deck, the man at the wheel struck eight bells, (four o'clock in
the morning,) and "All starbowlines, ahoy!" brought the other watch up.
But there was no going below for us.  The gale was now at its height,
"blowing like scissors and thumb-screws;" the captain was on deck; the
ship, which was light, rolling and pitching as though she would shake
the long sticks out of her; and the sail gaping open and splitting, in
every direction.  The mizen topsail, which was a comparatively new
sail, and close-reefed, split, from head to foot, in the bunt; the
fore-topsail went, in one rent, from clew to earing, and was blowing to
tatters; one of the chain bobstays parted; the spritsail-yard sprung in
the slings; the martingale had slued away off to leeward; and, owing to
the long dry weather, the lee rigging hung in large bights, at every
lurch.  One of the main top-gallant shrouds had parted; and, to crown
all, the galley had got adrift, and gone over to leeward, and the
anchor on the lee bow had worked loose, and was thumping the side.
Here was work enough for all hands for half a day.  Our gang laid out
on the mizen topsail yard, and after more than half an hour's hard
work, furled the sail, though it bellied out over our heads, and again,
by a slant of the wind, blew in under the yard, with a fearful jerk,
and almost threw us off from the foot-ropes.

Double gaskets were passed round the yards, rolling tackles and other
gear bowsed taut, and everything made as secure as could be.  Coming
down, we found the rest of the crew just coming down the fore rigging,
having furled the tattered topsail, or, rather, swathed it round the
yard, which looked like a broken limb, bandaged. There was no sail now
on the ship but the spanker and the close-reefed main topsail, which
still held good.  But this was too much after sail; and order was given
to furl the spanker.  The brails were hauled up, and all the light
hands in the starboard watch sent out on the gaff to pass the gaskets;
but they could do nothing with it.  The second mate swore at them for a
parcel of "sogers," and sent up a couple of the best men; but they
could do no better, and the gaff was lowered down.  All hands were now
employed in setting up the lee rigging, fishing the spritsail-yard,
lashing the galley, and getting tackles upon the martingale, to bowse
it to windward.  Being in the larboard watch, my duty was forward, to
assist in setting up the martingale.  Three of us were out on the
martingale guys and back-ropes for more than half an hour, carrying
out, hooking and unhooking the tackles, several times buried in the
seas, until the mate ordered us in, from fear of our being washed off.
The anchors were then to be taken up on the rail, which kept all hands
on the forecastle for an hour, though every now and then the seas broke
over it, washing the rigging off to leeward, filling the lee scuppers
breast high, and washing chock aft to the taffrail.

Having got everything secure again, we were promising ourselves some
breakfast, for it was now nearly nine o'clock in the forenoon, when the
main topsail showed evident signs of giving way.  Some sail must be
kept on the ship, and the captain ordered the fore and main spencer
gaffs to be lowered down, and the two spencers (which were storm sails,
bran new, small, and made of the strongest canvas) to be got up and
bent; leaving the main topsail to blow away, with a blessing on it, if
it would only last until we could set the spencers.  These we bent on
very carefully, with strong robands and seizings, and making tackles
fast to the clews, bowsed them down to the water-ways.  By this time
the main topsail was among the things that have been, and we went aloft
to stow away the remnant of the last sail of all those which were on
the ship twenty-four hours before.  The spencers were now the only
whole sails on the ship, and, being strong and small, and near the
deck, presenting but little surface to the wind above the rail,
promised to hold out well.  Hove-to under these, and eased by having no
sail above the tops, the ship rose and fell, and drifted off to leeward
like a line-of-battle ship.

It was now eleven o'clock, and the watch was sent below to get
breakfast, and at eight bells (noon), as everything was snug, although
the gale had not in the least abated, the watch was set, and the other
watch and idlers sent below.  For three days and three nights, the gale
continued with unabated fury, and with singular regularity.  There was
no lulls, and very little variation in its fierceness.  Our ship, being
light, rolled so as almost to send the fore yard-arm under water, and
drifted off bodily, to leeward.  All this time there was not a cloud to
be seen in the sky, day or night;--no, not so large as a man's hand.
Every morning the sun rose cloudless from the sea, and set again at
night, in the sea, in a flood of light.  The stars, too, came out of
the blue, one after another, night after night, unobscured, and
twinkled as clear as on a still frosty night at home, until the day
came upon them.  All this time, the sea was rolling in immense surges,
white with foam, as far as the eye could reach, on every side, for we
were now leagues and leagues from shore.

The between-decks being empty, several of us slept there in hammocks,
which are the best things in the world to sleep in during a storm; it
not being true of them, as it is of another kind of bed, "when the wind
blows, the cradle will rock;" for it is the ship that rocks, while they
always hang vertically from the beams.  During these seventy-two hours
we had nothing to do, but to turn in and out, four hours on deck, and
four below, eat, sleep, and keep watch. The watches were only varied by
taking the helm in turn, and now and then, by one of the sails, which
were furled, blowing out of the gaskets, and getting adrift, which sent
us up on the yards; and by getting tackles on different parts of the
rigging, which were slack.  Once, the wheel-rope parted, which might
have been fatal to us, had not the chief mate sprung instantly with a
relieving tackle to windward, and kept the tiller up, till a new one
could be rove.  On the morning of the twentieth, at daybreak, the gale
had evidently done its worst, and had somewhat abated; so much so, that
all hands were called to bend new sails, although it was still blowing
as hard as two common gales.  One at a time, and with great difficulty
and labor, the old sails were unbent and sent down by the bunt-lines,
and three new topsails, made for the homeward passage round Cape Horn,
and which had never been bent, were got up from the sailroom, and under
the care of the sailmaker, were fitted for bending, and sent up by the
halyards into the tops, and, with stops and frapping lines, were bent
to the yards, close-reefed, sheeted home, and hoisted.  These were done
one at a time, and with the greatest care and difficulty.  Two spare
courses were then got up and bent in the same manner and furled, and a
storm-jib, with the bonnet off, bent and furled to the boom.  It was
twelve o'clock before we got through; and five hours of more exhausting
labor I never experienced; and no one of that ship's crew, I will
venture to say, will ever desire again to unbend and bend five large
sails, in the teeth of a tremendous north-wester.  Towards night, a few
clouds appeared in the horizon, and as the gale moderated, the usual
appearance of driving clouds relieved the face of the sky. The fifth
day after the commencement of the storm, we shook a reef out of each
topsail, and set the reefed foresail, jib and spanker; but it was not
until after eight days of reefed topsails that we had a whole sail on
the ship; and then it was quite soon enough, for the captain was
anxious to make up for leeway, the gale having blown us half the
distance to the Sandwich Islands.

Inch by inch, as fast as the gale would permit, we made sail on the
ship, for the wind still continued a-head, and we had many days'
sailing to get back to the longitude we were in when the storm took us.
For eight days more we beat to windward under a stiff top-gallant
breeze, when the wind shifted and became variable. A light
SOUTH-EASTER, to which we could carry a reefed topmast studding-sail,
did wonders for our dead reckoning.

Friday, December 4th, after a passage of twenty days, we arrived at the
mouth of the bay of San Francisco.




CHAPTER XXVI

SAN FRANCISCO--MONTEREY

Our place of destination had been Monterey, but as we were to the
northward of it when the wind hauled a-head, we made a fair wind for
San Francisco.  This large bay, which lies in latitude 37 deg. 58', was
discovered by Sir Francis Drake, and by him represented to be (as
indeed it is) a magnificent bay, containing several good harbors, great
depth of water, and surrounded by a fertile and finely wooded country.
About thirty miles from the mouth of the bay, and on the south-east
side, is a high point, upon which the presidio is built.  Behind this,
is the harbor in which trading vessels anchor, and near it, the mission
of San Francisco, and a newly begun settlement, mostly of Yankee
Californians, called Yerba Buena, which promises well.  Here, at
anchor, and the only vessel, was a brig under Russian colors, from
Asitka, in Russian America, which had come down to winter, and to take
in a supply of tallow and grain, great quantities of which latter
article are raised in the missions at the head of the bay.  The second
day after our arrival, we went on board the brig, it being Sunday, as a
matter of curiosity; and there was enough there to gratify it. Though
no larger than the Pilgrim, she had five or six officers, and a crew of
between twenty and thirty; and such a stupid and greasy-looking set, I
certainly never saw before.  Although it was quite comfortable weather,
and we had nothing on but straw hats, shirts, and duck trowsers, and
were barefooted, they had, every man of them, double-soled boots,
coming up to the knees, and well greased; thick woolen trowsers,
frocks, waistcoats, pea-jackets, woolen caps, and everything in true
Nova Zembla rig; and in the warmest days they made no change.  The
clothing of one of these men would weigh nearly as much as that of half
our crew.  They had brutish faces, looked like the antipodes of
sailors, and apparently dealt in nothing but grease.  They lived upon
grease; eat it, drank it, slept in the midst of it, and their clothes
were covered with it.  To a Russian, grease is the greatest luxury.
They looked with greedy eyes upon the tallow-bags as they were taken
into the vessel, and, no doubt, would have eaten one up whole, had not
the officer kept watch over it.  The grease seemed actually coming
through their pores, and out in their hair, and on their faces.  It
seems as if it were this saturation which makes them stand cold and
rain so well.  If they were to go into a warm climate, they would all
die of the scurvy.

The vessel was no better than the crew.  Everything was in the oldest
and most inconvenient fashion possible; running trusses on the yards,
and large hawser cables, coiled all over the decks, and served and
parcelled in all directions.  The topmasts, top-gallant masts and
studding-sail booms were nearly black for want of scraping, and the
decks would have turned the stomach of a man-of-war's-man. The galley
was down in the forecastle; and there the crew lived, in the midst of
the steam and grease of the cooking, in a place as hot as an oven, and
as dirty as a pigsty.  Five minutes in the forecastle was enough for
us, and we were glad to get into the open air.  We made some trade with
them, buying Indian curiosities, of which they had a great number; such
as bead-work, feathers of birds, fur moccasins, etc.  I purchased a
large robe, made of the skins of some animals, dried and sewed nicely
together, and covered all over on the outside with thick downy
feathers, taken from the breasts of various birds, and arranged with
their different colors, so as to make a brilliant show.

A few days after our arrival, the rainy season set in, and, for three
weeks, it rained almost every hour, without cessation. This was bad for
our trade, for the collecting of hides is managed differently in this
port from what it is in any other on the coast. The mission of San
Francisco near the anchorage, has no trade at all, but those of San
Jose, Santa Clara, and others, situated on large creeks or rivers which
run into the bay, and distant between fifteen and forty miles from the
anchorage, do a greater business in hides than any in California.
Large boats, manned by Indians, and capable of carrying nearly a
thousand hides apiece, are attached to the missions, and sent down to
the vessels with hides, to bring away goods in return.  Some of the
crews of the vessels are obliged to go and come in the boats, to look
out for the hides and goods. These are favorite expeditions with the
sailors, in fine weather; but now to be gone three or four days, in
open boats, in constant rain, without any shelter, and with cold food,
was hard service. Two of our men went up to Santa Clara in one of these
boats, and were gone three days, during all which time they had a
constant rain, and did not sleep a wink, but passed three long nights,
walking fore and aft the boat, in the open air.  When they got on
board, they were completely exhausted, and took a watch below of twelve
hours.  All the hides, too, that came down in the boats, were soaked
with water, and unfit to put below, so that we were obliged to trice
them up to dry, in the intervals of sunshine or wind, upon all parts of
the vessel.  We got up tricing-lines from the jib-boom-end to each arm
of the fore yard, and thence to the main and cross-jack yard-arms.
Between the tops, too, and the mast-heads, from the fore to the main
swifters, and thence to the mizen rigging, and in all directions
athwartships, tricing-lines were run, and strung with hides.  The head
stays and guys, and the spritsail-yard, were lined, and, having still
more, we got out the swinging booms, and strung them and the forward
and after guys, with hides.  The rail, fore and aft, the windlass,
capstan, the sides of the ship, and every vacant place on deck, were
covered with wet hides, on the least sign of an interval for drying.
Our ship was nothing but a mass of hides, from the cat-harpins to the
water's edge, and from the jib-boom-end to the taffrail.

One cold, rainy evening, about eight o'clock, I received orders to get
ready to start for San Jose at four the next morning, in one of these
Indian boats, with four days' provisions.  I got my oil-cloth clothes,
south-wester, and thick boots all ready, and turned into my hammock
early, determined to get some sleep in advance, as the boat was to be
alongside before daybreak.  I slept on till all hands were called in
the morning; for, fortunately for me, the Indians, intentionally, or
from mistaking their orders, had gone off alone in the night, and were
far out of sight.  Thus I escaped three or four days of very
uncomfortable service.

Four of our men, a few days afterwards, went up in one of the
quarter-boats to Santa Clara, to carry the agent, and remained out all
night in a drenching rain, in the small boat, where there was not room
for them to turn round; the agent having gone up to the mission and
left the men to their fate, making no provision for their
accommodation, and not even sending them anything to eat.  After this,
they had to pull thirty miles, and when they got on board, were so
stiff that they could not come up the gangway ladder.  This filled up
the measure of the agent's unpopularity, and never after this could he
get anything done by any of the crew; and many a delay and vexation,
and many a good ducking in the surf, did he get to pay up old scores,
or "square the yards with the bloody quill-driver."

Having collected nearly all the hides that were to be procured, we
began our preparations for taking in a supply of wood and water, for
both of which, San Francisco is the best place on the coast. A small
island, situated about two leagues from the anchorage, called by us
"Wood Island," and by the Spaniards "Isle de los Angelos," was covered
with trees to the water's edge; and to this, two of our crew, who were
Kennebec men, and could handle an axe like a plaything, were sent every
morning to cut wood, with two boys to pile it up for them.  In about a
week, they had cut enough to last us a year, and the third mate, with
myself and three others, were sent over in a large, schooner-rigged,
open launch, which we had hired of the mission, to take in the wood,
and bring it to the ship.  We left the ship about noon, but, owing to a
strong head wind, and a tide, which here runs four or five knots, did
not get into the harbor, formed by two points of the island, where the
boats lie, until sundown.  No sooner had we come-to, than a strong
SOUTH-EASTER, which had been threatening us all day, set in, with heavy
rain and a chilly atmosphere. We were in rather a bad situation: an
open boat, a heavy rain, and a long night; for in winter, in this
latitude, it was dark nearly fifteen hours.  Taking a small skiff which
we had brought with us, we went ashore, but found no shelter, for
everything was open to the rain, and collecting a little wood, which we
found by lifting up the leaves and brush, and a few mussels, we put
aboard again, and made the best preparations in our power for passing
the night.  We unbent the mainsail, and formed an awning with it over
the after part of the boat, made a bed of wet logs of wood, and, with
our jackets on, lay down, about six o'clock, to sleep. Finding the rain
running down upon us, and our jackets getting wet through, and the
rough, knotty-logs, rather indifferent couches, we turned out; and
taking an iron pan which we brought with us, we wiped it out dry, put
some stones around it, cut the wet bark from some sticks, and striking
a light, made a small fire in the pan.  Keeping some sticks near, to
dry, and covering the whole over with a roof of boards, we kept up a
small fire, by which we cooked our mussels, and ate them, rather for an
occupation than from hunger.  Still, it was not ten o'clock, and the
night was long before us, when one of the party produced an old pack of
Spanish cards from his monkey-jacket pocket, which we hailed as a great
windfall; and keeping a dim, flickering light by our fagots, we played
game after game, till one or two o'clock, when, becoming really tired,
we went to our logs again, one sitting up at a time, in turn, to keep
watch over the fire.  Toward morning, the rain ceased, and the air
became sensibly colder, so that we found sleep impossible, and sat up,
watching for daybreak.  No sooner was it light than we went ashore, and
began our preparations for loading our vessel.  We were not mistaken in
the coldness of the weather, for a white frost was on the ground, a
thing we had never seen before in California, and one or two little
puddles of fresh water were skimmed over with a thin coat of ice.  In
this state of the weather and before sunrise, in the grey of the
morning, we had to wade off, nearly up to our hips in water, to load
the skiff with the wood by armsfull.  The third mate remained on board
the launch, two more men staid in the skiff, to load and manage it, and
all the water-work, as usual, fell upon the two youngest of us; and
there we were, with frost on the ground, wading forward and back, from
the beach to the boat, with armsfull of wood, barefooted, and our
trowsers rolled up.  When the skiff went off with her load, we could
only keep our feet from freezing by racing up and down the beach on the
hard sand, as fast as we could go.  We were all day at this work, and
towards sundown, having loaded the vessel as deep as she would bear, we
hove up our anchor, and made sail, beating out the bay.  No sooner had
we got into the large bay, than we found a strong tide setting us out
to seaward, a thick fog which prevented our seeing the ship, and a
breeze too light to set us against the tide; for we were as deep as a
sand-barge.  By the utmost exertions, we saved ourselves from being
carried out to sea, and were glad to reach the leewardmost point of the
island, where we came-to, and prepared to pass another night, more
uncomfortable than the first, for we were loaded up to the gunwale, and
had only a choice among logs and sticks for a resting-place.  The next
morning, we made sail at slack water, with a fair wind, and got on
board by eleven o'clock, when all hands were turned-to, to unload and
stow away the wood, which took till night.

Having now taken in all our wood, the next morning a water-party was
ordered off with all the casks.  From this we escaped, having had a
pretty good siege with the wooding.  The water-party were gone three
days, during which time they narrowly escaped being carried out to sea,
and passed one day on an island, where one of them shot a deer, great
numbers of which overrun the islands and hills of San Francisco Bay.

While not off, on these wood and water parties, or up the rivers to the
missions, we had very easy times on board the ship.  We were moored,
stem and stern, within a cable's length of the shore, safe from
SOUTH-EASTERs, and with very little boating to do; and as it rained
nearly all the time, awnings were put over the hatchways, and all hands
sent down between decks, where we were at work, day after day, picking
oakum, until we got enough to caulk the ship all over, and to last the
whole voyage.  Then we made a whole suit of gaskets for the voyage
home, a pair of wheel-ropes from strips of green hide, great quantities
of spun-yarn, and everything else that could be made between decks.  It
being now mid-winter and in high latitude, the nights were very long,
so that we were not turned-to until seven in the morning, and were
obliged to knock off at five in the evening, when we got supper; which
gave us nearly three hours before eight bells, at which time the watch
was set.

As we had now been about a year on the coast, it was time to think of
the voyage home; and knowing that the last two or three months of our
stay would be very busy ones, and that we should never have so good an
opportunity to work for ourselves as the present, we all employed our
evenings in making clothes for the passage home, and more especially
for Cape Horn.  As soon as supper was over and the kids cleared away,
and each one had taken his smoke, we seated ourselves on our chests
round the lamp, which swung from a beam, and each one went to work in
his own way, some making hats, others trowsers, others jackets, etc.,
etc.; and no one was idle.  The boys who could not sew well enough to
make their own clothes, laid up grass into sinnet for the men, who
sewed for them in return.  Several of us clubbed together and bought a
large piece of twilled cotton, which we made into trowsers and jackets,
and giving them several coats of linseed oil, laid them by for Cape
Horn.  I also sewed and covered a tarpaulin hat, thick and strong
enough to sit down upon, and made myself a complete suit of flannel
under-clothing, for bad weather.  Those who had no south-wester caps,
made them, and several of the crew made themselves tarpaulin jackets
and trowsers, lined on the inside with flannel.  Industry was the order
of the day, and every one did something for himself; for we knew that
as the season advanced, and we went further south, we should have no
evenings to work in.

Friday, December 25th.  This day was Christmas; and as it rained all
day long, and there were no hides to take in, and nothing especial to
do, the captain gave us a holiday, (the first we had had since leaving
Boston,) and plum duff for dinner.  The Russian brig, following the Old
Style, had celebrated their Christmas eleven days before; when they had
a grand blow-out and (as our men said) drank, in the forecastle, a
barrel of gin, ate up a bag of tallow, and made a soup of the skin.

Sunday, December 27th.  We had now finished all our business at this
port, and it being Sunday, we unmoored ship and got under weigh, firing
a salute to the Russian brig, and another to the Presidio, which were
both answered.  The commandant of the Presidio, Don Gaudaloupe Villego,
a young man, and the most popular, among the Americans and English, of
any man in California, was on board when we got under weigh.  He spoke
English very well, and was suspected of being favorably inclined to
foreigners.

We sailed down this magnificent bay with a light wind, the tide, which
was running out, carrying us at the rate of four or five knots.  It was
a fine day; the first of entire sunshine we had had for more than a
month.  We passed directly under the high cliff on which the Presidio
is built, and stood into the middle of the bay, from whence we could
see small bays, making up into the interior, on every side; large and
beautifully-wooded islands; and the mouths of several small rivers.  If
California ever becomes a prosperous country, this bay will be the
centre of its prosperity. The abundance of wood and water, the extreme
fertility of its shores, the excellence of its climate, which is as
near to being perfect as any in the world, and its facilities for
navigation, affording the best anchoring-grounds in the whole western
coast of America, all fit it for a place of great importance; and,
indeed, it has attracted much attention, for the settlement of "Yerba
Buena," where we lay at anchor, made chiefly by Americans and English,
and which bids fair to become the most important trading place on the
coast, at this time began to supply traders, Russian ships, and
whalers, with their stores of wheat and frijoles.

The tide leaving us, we came to anchor near the mouth of the bay, under
a high and beautifully sloping hill, upon which herds of hundreds and
hundreds of red deer, and the stag, with his high branching antlers,
were bounding about, looking at us for a moment, and then starting off,
affrighted at the noises which we made for the purpose of seeing the
variety of their beautiful attitudes and motions.

At midnight, the tide having turned, we hove up our anchor and stood
out of the bay, with a fine starry heaven above us,--the first we had
seen for weeks and weeks.  Before the light northerly winds, which blow
here with the regularity of trades, we worked slowly along, and made
Point Ano Nuevo, the northerly point of the Bay of Monterey, on Monday
afternoon.  We spoke, going in, the brig Diana, of the Sandwich
Islands, from the North-west Coast, last from Asitka.  She was off the
point at the same time with us, but did not get in to the
anchoring-ground until an hour or two after us.  It was ten o'clock on
Tuesday morning when we came to anchor.  The town looked just as it did
when I saw it last, which was eleven months before, in the brig
Pilgrim.  The pretty lawn on which it stands, as green as sun and rain
could make it; the pine wood on the south; the small river on the north
side; the houses, with their white plastered sides and red-tiled roofs,
dotted about on the green; the low, white presidio, with its soiled,
tri- flag flying, and the discordant din of drums and trumpets
for the noon parade; all brought up the scene we had witnessed here
with so much pleasure nearly a year before, when coming from a long
voyage, and our unprepossessing reception at Santa Barbara. It seemed
almost like coming to a home.




CHAPTER XXVII

THE SUNDAY WASH-UP--ON SHORE--A SET-TO--A GRANDEE--"SAIL HO!"--A
FANDANGO

The only other vessel in port was the Russian government bark, from
Asitka, mounting eight guns, (four of which we found to be Quakers,)
and having on board the ex-governor, who was going in her to Mazatlan,
and thence overland to Vera Cruz.  He offered to take letters, and
deliver them to the American consul at Vera Cruz, whence they could be
easily forwarded to the United States.  We accordingly made up a packet
of letters, almost every one writing, and dating them "January 1st,
1836."  The governor was true to his promise, and they all reached
Boston before the middle of March; the shortest communication ever yet
made across the country.

The brig Pilgrim had been lying in Monterey through the latter part of
November, according to orders, waiting for us.  Day after day, Captain
Faucon went up to the hill to look out for us, and at last, gave us up,
thinking we must have gone down in the gale which we experienced off
Point Conception, and which had blown with great fury over the whole
coast, driving ashore several vessels in the snuggest ports.  An
English brig, which had put into San Francisco, lost both her anchors;
the Rosa was driven upon a mud bank in San Diego; and the Pilgrim, with
great difficulty, rode out the gale in Monterey, with three anchors
a-head.  She sailed early in December for San Diego and intermedios.

As we were to be here over Sunday, and Monterey was the best place to
go ashore on the whole coast, and we had had no liberty-day for nearly
three months, every one was for going ashore.  On Sunday morning, as
soon as the decks were washed, and we had got breakfast, those who had
obtained liberty began to clean themselves, as it is called, to go
ashore.  A bucket of fresh water apiece, a cake of soap, a large coarse
towel, and we went to work scrubbing one another, on the forecastle.
Having gone through this, the next thing was to get into the head,--one
on each side--with a bucket apiece, and duck one another, by drawing up
water and heaving over each other, while we were stripped to a pair of
trowsers.  Then came the rigging-up.  The usual outfit of pumps, white
stockings, loose white duck trowsers, blue jackets, clean checked
shirts, black kerchiefs, hats well varnished, with a fathom of black
ribbon over the left eye, a silk handkerchief flying from the outside
jacket pocket, and four or five dollars tied up in the back of the
neckerchief, and we were "all right."  One of the quarter-boats pulled
us ashore, and we steamed up to the town. I tried to find the church,
in order to see the worship, but was told that there was no service,
except a mass early in the morning; so we went about the town, visiting
the Americans and English, and the natives whom we had known when we
were here before.  Toward noon we procured horses, and rode out to the
Carmel mission, which is about a league from the town, where we got
something in the way of a dinner--beef, eggs, frijoles, tortillas, and
some middling wine--from the mayordomo, who, of course, refused to make
any charge, as it was the Lord's gift, yet received our present, as a
gratuity, with a low bow, a touch of the hat, and "Dios se lo pague!"

After this repast, we had a fine run, scouring the whole country on our
fleet horses, and came into town soon after sundown. Here we found our
companions who had refused to go to ride with us, thinking that a
sailor has no more business with a horse than a fish has with a
balloon.  They were moored, stem and stern, in a grog-shop, making a
great noise, with a crowd of Indians and hungry half-breeds about them,
and with a fair prospect of being stripped and dirked, or left to pass
the night in the calabozo. With a great deal of trouble, we managed to
get them down to the boats, though not without many angry looks and
interferences from the Spaniards, who had marked them out for their
prey.  The Diana's crew,--a set of worthless outcasts, who had been
picked up at the islands from the refuse of whale-ships,--were all as
drunk as beasts, and had a set-to, on the beach, with their captain,
who was in no better state than themselves.  They swore they would not
go aboard, and went back to the town, were stripped and beaten, and
lodged in the calabozo, until the next day, when the captain bought
them out. Our forecastle, as usual after a liberty-day, was a scene of
tumult all night long, from the drunken ones.  They had just got to
sleep toward morning, when they were turned up with the rest, and kept
at work all day in the water, carrying hides, their heads aching so
that they could hardly stand.  This is sailor's pleasure.

Nothing worthy of remark happened while we were here, except a little
boxing-match on board our own ship, which gave us something to talk
about.  A broad-backed, big-headed Cape Cod boy, about sixteen years
old, had been playing the bully, for the whole voyage, over a slender,
delicate-looking boy, from one of the Boston schools, and over whom he
had much the advantage, in strength, age, and experience in the ship's
duty, for this was the first time the Boston boy had been on salt
water.  The latter, however, had "picked up his crumbs," was learning
his duty, and getting strength and confidence daily; and began to
assert his rights against his oppressor.  Still, the other was his
master, and, by his superior strength, always tackled with him and
threw him down.  One afternoon, before we were turned-to, these boys
got into a violent squabble in the between-decks, when George (the
Boston boy) said he would fight Nat, if he could have fair play. The
chief mate heard the noise, dove down the hatchway, hauled them both up
on deck, and told them to shake hands and have no more trouble for the
voyage, or else they should fight till one gave in for beaten.  Finding
neither willing to make an offer for reconciliation, he called all
hands up, (for the captain was ashore, and he could do as he chose
aboard,) ranged the crew in the waist, marked a line on the deck,
brought the two boys up to it, making them "toe the mark;" then made
the bight of a rope fast to a belaying pin, and stretched it across the
deck, bringing it just above their waists.  "No striking below the
rope!"  And there they stood, one on each side of it, face to face, and
went at it like two game-cocks.  The Cape Cod boy, Nat, put in his
double-fisters, starting the blood, and bringing the black and blue
spots all over the face and arms of the other, whom we expected to see
give in every moment: but the more he was hurt, the better he fought.
Time after time he was knocked nearly down, but up he came again and
faced the mark, as bold as a lion, again to take the heavy blows, which
sounded so as to make one's heart turn with pity for him.  At length he
came up to the mark for the last time, his shirt torn from his body,
his face covered with blood and bruises, and his eyes flashing fire,
and swore he would stand there until one or the other was killed, and
set-to like a young fury.  "Hurrah in the bow!" said the men, cheering
him on.  "Well crowed!"  "Never say die, while there's a shot in the
locker!"  Nat tried to close with him, knowing his advantage, but the
mate stopped that, saying there should be fair play, and no fingering.
Nat then came up to the mark, but looked white about the mouth, and his
blows were not given with half the spirit of his first.  He was
evidently cowed.  He had always been his master, and had nothing to
gain, and everything to lose; while the other fought for honor and
freedom, under a sense of wrong.  It would not do.  It was soon over.
Nat gave in; not so much beaten, as cowed and mortified; and never
afterwards tried to act the bully on board.  We took George forward,
washed him in the deck-tub, complimented his pluck, and from this time
he became somebody on board, having fought himself into notice. Mr.
Brown's plan had a good effect, for there was no more quarrelling among
the boys for the rest of the voyage.

Wednesday, January 6th.  Set sail from Monterey, with a number of
Spaniards as passengers, and shaped our course for Santa Barbara. The
Diana went out of the bay in company with us, but parted from us off
Point Pinos, being bound to the Sandwich Islands.  We had a smacking
breeze for several hours, and went along at a great rate, until night,
when it died away, as usual, and the land-breeze set in, which brought
us upon a taut bowline.  Among our passengers was a young man who was
the best representation of a decayed gentleman I had ever seen.  He
reminded me much of some of the characters in Gil Blas.  He was of the
aristocracy of the country, his family being of pure Spanish blood, and
once of great importance in Mexico. His father had been governor of the
province, and having amassed a large property, settled at San Diego,
where he built a large house with a court-yard in front, kept a great
retinue of Indians, and set up for the grandee of that part of the
country.  His son was sent to Mexico, where he received the best
education, and went into the first society of the capital.  Misfortune,
extravagance, and the want of funds, or any manner of getting interest
on money, soon eat the estate up, and Don Juan Bandini returned from
Mexico accomplished, poor, and proud, and without any office or
occupation, to lead the life of most young men of the better
families--dissolute and extravagant when the means are at hand;
ambitious at heart, and impotent in act; often pinched for bread;
keeping up an appearance of style, when their poverty is known to each
half-naked Indian boy in the street, and they stand in dread of every
small trader and shopkeeper in the place.  He had a slight and elegant
figure, moved gracefully, danced and waltzed beautifully, spoke the
best of Castilian, with a pleasant and refined voice and accent, and
had, throughout, the bearing of a man of high birth and figure.  Yet
here he was, with his passage given him, (as I afterwards learned,) for
he had not the means of paying for it, and living upon the charity of
our agent.  He was polite to every one, spoke to the sailors, and gave
four reals--I dare say the last he had in his pocket--to the steward,
who waited upon him.  I could not but feel a pity for him, especially
when I saw him by the side of his fellow-passenger and townsman, a fat,
coarse, vulgar, pretending fellow of a Yankee trader, who had made
money in San Diego, and was eating out the very vitals of the Bandinis,
fattening upon their extravagance, grinding them in their poverty;
having mortgages on their lands, forestalling their cattle, and already
making an inroad upon their jewels, which were their last hope.

Don Juan had with him a retainer, who was as much like many of the
characters in Gil Blas as his master.  He called himself a private
secretary, though there was no writing for him to do, and he lived in
the steerage with the carpenter and sailmaker. He was certainly a
character; could read and write extremely well; spoke good Spanish; had
been all over Spanish America, and lived in every possible situation,
and served in every conceivable capacity, though generally in that of
confidential servant to some man of figure.  I cultivated this man's
acquaintance, and during the five weeks that he was with us,--for he
remained on board until we arrived at San Diego,--I gained a greater
knowledge of the state of political parties in Mexico, and the habits
and affairs of the different classes of society, than I could have
learned from almost any one else.  He took great pains in correcting my
Spanish, and supplying me with colloquial phrases, and common terms and
exclamations in speaking.  He lent me a file of late newspapers from
the city of Mexico, which were full of triumphal receptions of Santa
Ana, who had just returned from Tampico after a victory, and with the
preparations for his expedition against the Texans.  "Viva Santa Ana!"
was the by-word everywhere, and it had even reached California, though
there were still many here, among whom was Don Juan Bandini, who were
opposed to his government, and intriguing to bring in Bustamente.
Santa Ana, they said, was for breaking down the missions; or, as they
termed it--"Santa Ana no quiere religion."  Yet I had no doubt that the
office of administrador of San Diego would reconcile Don Juan to any
dynasty, and any state of the church.  In these papers, too, I found
scraps of American and English news; but which were so unconnected, and
I was so ignorant of everything preceding them for eighteen months
past, that they only awakened a curiosity which they could not satisfy.
One article spoke of Taney as Justicia Mayor de los Estados Unidos,
(what had become of Marshall? was he dead, or banished?) and another
made known, by news received from Vera Cruz, that "El Vizconde
Melbourne" had returned to the office of "primer ministro," in place of
Sir Roberto Peel.  (Sir Robert Peel had been minister, then? and where
were Earl Grey and the Duke of Wellington?)  Here were the outlines of
a grand parliamentary overturn, the filling up of which I could imagine
at my leisure.

The second morning after leaving Monterey, we were off Point
Conception. It was a bright, sunny day, and the wind, though strong,
was fair; and everything was in striking contrast with our experience
in the same place two months before, when we were drifting off from a
northwester under a fore and main spencer.  "Sail ho!" cried a man who
was rigging out a top-gallant studding-sail boom.--"Where
away?"--"Weather beam, sir!" and in a few minutes a full-rigged brig
was seen standing out from under Point Conception.  The studding-sail
halyards were let go, and the yards boom-ended, the after yards braced
aback, and we waited her coming down. She rounded to, backed her main
topsail, and showed her decks full of men, four guns on a side, hammock
nettings, and everything man-of-war fashion, except that there was no
boatswain's whistle, and no uniforms on the quarter-deck.  A short,
square-built man, in a rough grey jacket, with a speaking-trumpet in
hand, stood in the weather hammock nettings.  "Ship
ahoy!"--"Hallo!"--"What ship is that, pray?"--"Alert."--"Where are you
from, pray?" etc., etc. She proved to be the brig Convoy, from the
Sandwich Islands, engaged in otter hunting, among the islands which lie
along the coast.  Her armament was from her being an illegal trader.
The otter are very numerous among these islands, and being of great
value, the government require a heavy sum for a license to hunt them,
and lay a high duty upon every one shot or carried out of the country.
This vessel had no license, and paid no duty, besides being engaged in
smuggling goods on board other vessels trading on the coast, and
belonging to the same owners in Oahu. Our captain told him to look out
for the Mexicans, but he said they had not an armed vessel of his size
in the whole Pacific. This was without doubt the same vessel that
showed herself off Santa Barbara a few months before.  These vessels
frequently remain on the coast for years, without making port, except
at the islands for wood and water, and an occasional visit to Oahu for
a new outfit.

Sunday, January 10th.  Arrived at Santa Barbara, and on the following
Wednesday, slipped our cable and went to sea, on account of a
SOUTH-EASTER.  Returned to our anchorage the next day.  We were the
only vessel in the port.  The Pilgrim had passed through the Canal and
hove-to off the town, nearly six weeks before, on her passage down from
Monterey, and was now at the leeward.  She heard here of our safe
arrival at San Francisco.

Great preparations were making on shore for the marriage of our agent,
who was to marry Donna Anneta De G---- De N---- y C----, youngest
daughter of Don Antonio N----, the grandee of the place, and the head
of the first family in California.  Our steward was ashore three days,
making pastry and cake, and some of the best of our stores were sent
off with him.  On the day appointed for the wedding, we took the
captain ashore in the gig, and had orders to come for him at night,
with leave to go up to the house and see the fandango.  Returning on
board, we found preparations making for a salute.  Our guns were loaded
and run out, men appointed to each, cartridges served out, matches
lighted, and all the flags ready to be run up.  I took my place at the
starboard after gun, and we all waited for the signal from on shore.
At ten o'clock the bride went up with her sister to the confessional,
dressed in deep black.  Nearly an hour intervened, when the great doors
of the mission church opened, the bells rang out a loud, discordant
peal, the private signal for us was run up by the captain ashore, the
bride, dressed in complete white, came out of the church with the
bridegroom, followed by a long procession.  Just as she stepped from
the church door, a small white cloud issued from the bows of our ship,
which was full in sight, the loud report echoed among the surrounding
hills and over the bay, and instantly the ship was dressed in flags and
pennants from stem to stern.  Twenty-three guns followed in regular
succession, with an interval of fifteen seconds between each when the
cloud cleared away, and the ship lay dressed in her colors, all day.
At sun-down, another salute of the same number of guns was fired, and
all the flags run down.  This we thought was pretty well--a gun every
fifteen seconds--for a merchantman with only four guns and a dozen or
twenty men.

After supper, the gig's crew were called, and we rowed ashore, dressed
in our uniform, beached the boat, and went up to the fandango.  The
bride's father's house was the principal one in the place, with a large
court in front, upon which a tent was built, capable of containing
several hundred people.  As we drew near, we heard the accustomed sound
of violins and guitars, and saw a great motion of the people within.
Going in, we found nearly all the people of the town--men, women, and
children--collected and crowded together, leaving barely room for the
dancers; for on these occasions no invitations are given, but every one
is expected to come, though there is always a private entertainment
within the house for particular friends.  The old women sat down in
rows, clapping their hands to the music, and applauding the young ones.
The music was lively, and among the tunes, we recognized several of our
popular airs, which we, without doubt, have taken from the Spanish.  In
the dancing, I was much disappointed.  The women stood upright, with
their hands down by their sides, their eyes fixed upon the ground
before them, and slided about without any perceptible means of motion;
for their feet were invisible, the hem of their dresses forming a
perfect circle about them, reaching to the ground.  They looked as
grave as though they were going through some religious ceremony, their
faces as little excited as their limbs; and on the whole, instead of
the spirited, fascinating Spanish dances which I had expected, I found
the Californian fandango, on the part of the women at least, a lifeless
affair.  The men did better.  They danced with grace and spirit, moving
in circles round their nearly stationary partners, and showing their
figures to great advantage.

A great deal was said about our friend Don Juan Bandini, and when he
did appear, which was toward the close of the evening, he certainly
gave us the most graceful dancing that I had ever seen.  He was dressed
in white pantaloons neatly made, a short jacket of dark silk, gaily
figured, white stockings and thin morocco slippers upon his very small
feet.  His slight and graceful figure was well calculated for dancing,
and he moved about with the grace and daintiness of a young fawn.  An
occasional touch of the toe to the ground, seemed all that was
necessary to give him a long interval of motion in the air.  At the
same time he was not fantastic or flourishing, but appeared to be
rather repressing a strong tendency to motion.  He was loudly
applauded, and danced frequently toward the close of the evening.
After the supper, the waltzing began, which was confined to a very few
of the "gente de razon," and was considered a high accomplishment, and
a mark of aristocracy.  Here, too, Don Juan figured greatly, waltzing
with the sister of the bride, (Donna Angustia, a handsome woman and a
general favorite,) in a variety of beautiful, but, to me, offensive
figures, which lasted as much as half an hour, no one else taking the
floor. They were repeatedly and loudly applauded, the old men and women
jumping out of their seats in admiration, and the young people waving
their hats and handkerchiefs.  Indeed among people of the character of
these Mexicans, the waltz seemed to me to have found its right place.
The great amusement of the evening,--which I suppose was owing to its
being carnival--was the breaking of eggs filled with cologne, or other
essences, upon the heads of the company.  One end of the egg is broken
and the inside taken out, then it is partly filled with cologne, and
the whole sealed up.  The women bring a great number of these secretly
about them, and the amusement is to break one upon the head of a
gentleman when his back is turned.  He is bound in gallantry to find
out the lady and return the compliment, though it must not be done if
the person sees you. A tall, stately Don, with immense grey whiskers,
and a look of great importance, was standing before me, when I felt a
light hand on my shoulder, and turning round, saw Donna Angustia, (whom
we all knew, as she had been up to Monterey, and down again, in the
Alert,) with her finger upon her lip, motioning me gently aside.  I
stepped back a little, when she went up behind the Don, and with one
hand knocked off his huge sombrero, and at the same instant, with the
other, broke the egg upon his head, and springing behind me, was out of
sight in a moment.  The Don turned slowly round, the cologne, running
down his face, and over his clothes, and a loud laugh breaking out from
every quarter. He looked round in vain, for some time, until the
direction of so many laughing eyes showed him the fair offender.  She
was his niece, and a great favorite with him, so old Don Domingo had to
join in the laugh.  A great many such tricks were played, and many a
war of sharp manoeuvering was carried on between couples of the younger
people, and at every successful exploit a general laugh was raised.

Another singular custom I was for some time at a loss about. A pretty
young girl was dancing, named, after what would appear to us the
sacrilegious custom of the country--Espiritu Santo, when a young man
went behind her and placed his hat directly upon her head, letting it
fall down over her eyes, and sprang back among the crowd.  She danced
for some time with the hat on, when she threw it off, which called
forth a general shout; and the young man was obliged to go out upon the
floor and pick it up.  Some of the ladies, upon whose heads hats had
been placed, threw them off at once, and a few kept them on throughout
the dance, and took them off at the end, and held them out in their
hands, when the owner stepped out, bowed, and took it from them.  I
soon began to suspect the meaning of the thing, and was afterward told
that it was a compliment, and an offer to become the lady's gallant for
the rest of the evening, and to wait upon her home.  If the hat was
thrown off, the offer was refused, and the gentleman was obliged to
pick up his hat amid a general laugh.  Much amusement was caused
sometimes by gentlemen putting hats on the ladies' heads, without
permitting them to see whom it was done by.  This obliged them to throw
them off, or keep them on at a venture, and when they came to discover
the owner, the laugh was often turned upon them. The captain sent for
us about ten o'clock, and we went aboard in high spirits, having
enjoyed the new scene much, and were of great importance among the
crew, from having so much to tell, and from the prospect of going every
night until it was over; for these fandangos generally last three days.
The next day, two of us were sent up to the town, and took care to come
back by way of Capitan Noriego's and take a look into the booth.  The
musicians were still there, upon their platform, scraping and twanging
away, and a few people, apparently of the lower classes, were dancing.
The dancing is kept up, at intervals, throughout the day, but the
crowd, the spirit, and the elite, come in at night.  The next night,
which was the last, we went ashore in the same manner, until we got
almost tired of the monotonous twang of the instruments, the drawling
sounds which the women kept up, as an accompaniment, and the slapping
of the hands in time with the music, in place of castanets.  We found
ourselves as great objects of attention as any persons or anything at
the place.  Our sailor dresses--and we took great pains to have them
neat and shipshape--were much admired, and we were invited, from every
quarter, to give them an American sailor's dance; but after the
ridiculous figure some of our countrymen cut, in dancing after the
Spaniards, we thought it best to leave it to their imaginations. Our
agent, with a tight, black, swallow-tailed coat, just imported from
Boston, a high stiff cravat, looking as if he had been pinned and
skewered, with only his feet and hands left free, took the floor just
after Bandini; and we thought they had had enough of Yankee grace.

The last night they kept it up in great style, and were getting into a
high-go, when the captain called us off to go aboard, for, it being
SOUTH-EASTER season, he was afraid to remain on shore long; and it was
well he did not, for that very night, we slipped our cables, as a
crowner to our fun ashore, and stood off before a SOUTH-EASTER, which
lasted twelve hours, and returned to our anchorage the next day.




CHAPTER XXVIII

AN OLD FRIEND--A VICTIM--CALIFORNIA RANGERS--NEWS FROM HOME--LAST LOOKS

Monday, Feb. 1st.  After having been in port twenty-one days, we sailed
for San Pedro, where we arrived on the following day, having gone "all
fluking," with the weather clew of the mainsail hauled up, the yards
braced in a little, and the lower studding-sails just drawing; the wind
hardly shifting a point during the passage. Here we found the Ayacucho
and the Pilgrim, which last we had not seen since the 11th of
September,--nearly five months; and I really felt something like an
affection for the old brig which had been my first home, and in which I
had spent nearly a year, and got the first rough and tumble of a sea
life.  She, too, was associated, in my mind with Boston, the wharf from
which we sailed, anchorage in the stream, leave-taking, and all such
matters, which were now to me like small links connecting me with
another world, which I had once been in, and which, please God, I might
yet see again. I went on board the first night, after supper; found the
old cook in the galley, playing upon the fife which I had given him, as
a parting present; had a hearty shake of the hand from him; and dove
down into the forecastle, where were my old ship-mates, the same as
ever, glad to see me; for they had nearly given us up as lost,
especially when they did not find us in Santa Barbara. They had been at
San Diego last, had been lying at San Pedro nearly a month, and had
received three thousand hides from the pueblo.  These were taken from
her the next day, which filled us up, and we both got under weigh on
the 4th, she bound up to San Francisco again, and we to San Diego,
where we arrived on the 6th.

We were always glad to see San Diego; it being the depot, and a snug
little place, and seeming quite like home, especially to me, who had
spent a summer there.  There was no vessel in port, the Rosa having
sailed for Valparaiso and Cadiz, and the Catalina for Callao, nearly a
month before.  We discharged our hides, and in four days were ready to
sail again for the windward; and, to our great joy--for the last time!
Over thirty thousand hides had been already collected, cured, and
stowed away in the house, which, together with what we should collect,
and the Pilgrim would bring down from San Francisco, would make out her
cargo. The thought that we were actually going up for the last time,
and that the next time we went round San Diego point it would be
"homeward bound," brought things so near a close, that we felt as
though we were just there, though it must still be the greater part of
a year before we could see Boston.

I spent one evening, as had been my custom, at the oven with the
Sandwich Islanders; but it was far from being the usual noisy, laughing
time.  It has been said, that the greatest curse to each of the South
Sea islands, was the first man who discovered it; and every one who
knows anything of the history of our commerce in those parts, knows how
much truth there is in this; and that the white men, with their vices,
have brought in diseases before unknown to the islanders, and which are
now sweeping off the native population of the Sandwich Islands, at the
rate of one fortieth of the entire population annually.  They seem to
be a doomed people. The curse of a people calling themselves Christian,
seems to follow them everywhere; and even here, in this obscure place,
lay two young islanders, whom I had left strong, active young men, in
the vigor of health, wasting away under a disease, which they would
never have known but for their intercourse with Christianized Mexico
and people from Christian America.  One of them was not so ill; and was
moving about, smoking his pipe, and talking, and trying to keep up his
spirits; but the other, who was my friend, and Aikane--Hope, was the
most dreadful object I had ever seen in my life: his eyes sunken and
dead, his cheeks fallen in against his teeth, his hands looking like
claws; a dreadful cough, which seemed to rack his whole shattered
system, a hollow whispering voice, and an entire inability to move
himself.  There he lay, upon a mat, on the ground, which was the only
floor of the oven, with no medicine, no comforts, and no one to care
for, or help him, but a few Kanakas, who were willing enough, but could
do nothing.  The sight of him made me sick, and faint.  Poor fellow!
During the four months that I lived upon the beach, we were continually
together, both in work, and in our excursions in the woods, and upon
the water.  I really felt a strong affection for him, and preferred him
to any of my own countrymen there; and I believe there was nothing
which he would not have done for me.  When I came into the oven he
looked at me, held out his hand, and said, in a low voice, but with a
delightful smile, "Aloha, Aikane!  Aloha nui!"  I comforted him as well
as I could, and promised to ask the captain to help him from the
medicine-chest, and told him I had no doubt the captain would do what
he could for him, as he had worked in our employ for several years,
both on shore and aboard our vessels on the coast. I went aboard and
turned into my hammock, but I could not sleep.

Thinking, from my education, that I must have some knowledge of
medicine, the Kanakas had insisted upon my examining him carefully; and
it was not a sight to be forgotten.  One of our crew, an old
man-of-war's man, of twenty years' standing, who had seen sin and
suffering in every shape, and whom I afterwards took to see Hope, said
it was dreadfully worse than anything he had ever seen, or even dreamed
of.  He was horror-struck, as his countenance showed; yet he had been
among the worst cases in our naval hospitals.  I could not get the
thought of the poor fellow out of my head all night; his horrible
suffering, and his apparently inevitable, horrible end.

The next day I told the captain of Hope's state, and asked him if he
would be so kind as to go and see him.

"What? a d----d Kanaka?"

"Yes, sir," said I; "but he has worked four years for our vessels, and
has been in the employ of our owners, both on shore and aboard."

"Oh! he be d----d!" said the captain, and walked off.

This same man died afterwards of a fever on the deadly coast of
Sumatra; and God grant he had better care taken of him in his
sufferings, than he ever gave to any one else!  Finding nothing was to
be got from the captain, I consulted an old shipmate, who had much
experience in these matters, and got from him a recipe, which he always
kept by him.  With this I went to the mate, and told him the case.  Mr.
Brown had been entrusted with the general care of the medicine-chest,
and although a driving fellow, and a taut hand in a watch, he had
good feelings, and was always inclined to be kind to the sick.  He said
that Hope was not strictly one of the crew, but as he was in our employ
when taken sick, he should have the medicines; and he got them and gave
them to me, with leave to go ashore at night.  Nothing could exceed the
delight of the Kanakas, when I came bringing the medicines.  All their
terms of affection and gratitude were spent upon me, and in a sense
wasted, (for I could not understand half of them,) yet they made all
known by their manner.  Poor Hope was so much revived at the bare
thought of anything's being done for him, that he was already stronger
and better.  I knew he must die as he was, and he could but die under
the medicines, and any chance was worth running.  An oven, exposed to
every wind and change of weather, is no place to take calomel; but
nothing else would do, and strong remedies must be used, or he was
gone.  The applications, internal and external, were powerful, and I
gave him strict directions to keep warm and sheltered, telling him it
was his only chance for life. Twice, after this, I visited him, having
only time to run up, while waiting in the boat.  He promised to take
his medicines regularly until we returned, and insisted upon it that he
was doing better.

We got under weigh on the 10th, bound up to San Pedro, and had three
days of calm and head winds, making but little progress. On the fourth,
we took a stiff SOUTH-EASTER, which obliged us to reef our topsails.
While on the yard, we saw a sail on the weather bow, and in about half
an hour, passed the Ayacucho, under double-reefed topsails, beating
down to San Diego. Arrived at San Pedro on the fourth day, and came-to
in the old place, a league from shore, with no other vessel in port,
and the prospect of three weeks, or more, of dull life, rolling goods
up a slippery hill, carrying hides on our heads over sharp stones, and,
perhaps, slipping for a SOUTH-EASTER.

There was but one man in the only house here, and him I shall always
remember as a good specimen of a California ranger. He had been a
tailor in Philadelphia, and getting intemperate and in debt, he joined
a trapping party and went to the Columbia river, and thence down to
Monterey, where he spent everything, left his party, and came to the
Pueblo de los Angelos, to work at his trade.  Here he went dead to
leeward among the pulperias, gambling rooms, etc., and came down to San
Pedro, to be moral by being out of temptation.  He had been in the
house several weeks, working hard at his trade, upon orders which he
had brought with him, and talked much of his resolution, and opened his
heart to us about his past life.  After we had been here some time, he
started off one morning, in fine spirits, well dressed, to carry the
clothes which he had been making to the pueblo, and saying he would
bring back his money and some fresh orders the next day.  The next day
came, and a week passed, and nearly a fortnight, when, one day, going
ashore, we saw a tall man, who looked like our friend the tailor,
getting out of the back of an Indian's cart, which had just come down
from the pueblo. He stood for the house, but we bore up after him; when
finding that we were overhauling him, he hove-to and spoke us.  Such a
sight I never saw before.  Barefooted, with an old pair of trowsers
tied round his waist by a piece of green hide, a soiled cotton shirt,
and a torn Indian hat; "cleaned out," to the last real, and completely
"used up."  He confessed the whole matter; acknowledged that he was on
his back; and now he had a prospect of a fit of the horrors for a week,
and of being worse than useless for months.  This is a specimen of the
life of half of the Americans and English who are adrift over the whole
of California.  One of the same stamp was Russell, who was master of
the hide-house at San Diego, while I was there, and afterwards turned
away for his misconduct.  He spent his own money and nearly all the
stores among the half-bloods upon the beach, and being turned away,
went up to the Presidio, where he lived the life of a desperate
"loafer," until some rascally deed sent him off "between two days,"
with men on horseback, dogs, and Indians in full cry after him, among
the hills.  One night, he burst into our room at the hide-house,
breathless, pale as a ghost, covered with mud, and torn by thorns and
briers, nearly naked, and begged for a crust of bread, saying he had
neither eaten nor slept for three days.  Here was the great Mr.
Russell, who a month before was "Don Tomas," "Capitan de la playa,"
"Maestro de la casa," etc., etc., begging food and shelter of Kanakas
and sailors.  He staid with us till he gave himself up, and was dragged
off to the calabozo.

Another, and a more amusing specimen, was one whom we saw at San
Francisco.  He had been a lad on board the ship California, in one of
her first voyages, and ran away and commenced Ranchero, gambling,
stealing horses, etc. He worked along up to San Francisco, and was
living on a rancho near there, while we were in port.  One morning,
when we went ashore in the boat, we found him at the landing-place,
dressed in California style,--a wide hat, faded velveteen trowsers, and
a blanket cloak thrown over his shoulders--and wishing to go off in the
boat, saying he was going to pasear with our captain a little. We had
many doubts of the reception he would meet with; but he seemed to think
himself company for any one.  We took him aboard, landed him at the
gangway, and went about our work, keeping an eye upon the quarter-deck,
where the captain was walking.  The lad went up to him with the most
complete assurance, and raising his hat, wished him a good afternoon.
Captain T---- turned round, looked at him from head to foot, and saying
coolly, "Hallo! who the h--- are you?" kept on his walk.  This was a
rebuff not to be mistaken, and the joke passed about among the crew by
winks and signs, at different parts of the ship.  Finding himself
disappointed at headquarters, he edged along forward to the mate, who
was overseeing some work on the forecastle, and tried to begin a yarn;
but it would not do. The mate had seen the reception he had met with
aft, and would have no cast-off company.  The second mate was aloft,
and the third mate and myself were painting the quarter-boat, which
hung by the davits, so he betook himself to us; but we looked at one
another, and the officer was too busy to say a word.  From us, he went
to one and another of the crew, but the joke had got before him, and he
found everybody busy and silent.  Looking over the rail a few moments
afterward, we saw him at the galley-door talking to the cook.  This was
a great comedown, from the highest seat in the synagogue to a seat in
the galley with the black cook.  At night, too, when supper was called,
he stood in the waist for some time, hoping to be asked down with the
officers, but they went below, one after another, and left him.  His
next chance was with the carpenter and sail-maker, and he lounged round
the after hatchway until the last had gone down.  We had now had fun
enough out of him, and taking pity on him, offered him a pot of tea,
and a cut at the kid, with the rest, in the forecastle. He was hungry,
and it was growing dark, and he began to see that there was no use in
playing the caballero any longer, and came down into the forecastle,
put into the "grub" in sailor's style, threw off all his airs, and
enjoyed the joke as much as any one; for a man must take a joke among
sailors.  He gave us the whole account of his adventures in the
country,--roguery and all--and was very entertaining.  He was a smart,
unprincipled fellow, was at the bottom of most of the rascally doings
of the country, and gave us a great deal of interesting information in
the ways of the world we were in.

Saturday, Feb. 13th.  Were called up at midnight to slip for a violent
north-easter, for this rascally hole of San Pedro is unsafe in every
wind but a south-wester, which is seldom known to blow more than once
in a half century.  We went off with a flowing sheet, and hove-to under
the lee of Catalina island, where we lay three days, and then returned
to our anchorage.

Tuesday, Feb. 23d.  This afternoon, a signal was made from the shore,
and we went off in the gig, and found the agent's clerk, who had been
up to the pueblo, waiting at the landing-place, with a package under
his arm, covered with brown papers and tied carefully with twine.  No
sooner had we shoved off than he told us there was good news from Santa
Barbara.  "What's that?" said one of the crew; "has the bloody agent
slipped off the hooks?  Has the old bundle of bones got him at
last?"--"No; better than that.  The California has arrived."  Letters,
papers, news, and, perhaps,--friends, on board!  Our hearts were all up
in our mouths, and we pulled away like good fellows; for the precious
packet could not be opened except by the captain.  As we pulled under
the stern, the clerk held up the package, and called out to the mate,
who was leaning over the taffrail, that the California had arrived.

"Hurrah!" said the mate, so as to be heard fore and aft; "California
come, and news from Boston!"

Instantly there was a confusion on board which no one could account for
who has not been in the same situation.  All discipline seemed for a
moment relaxed.

"What's that, Mr. Brown?" said the cook, putting his head out of the
galley--"California come?"

"Aye, aye! you angel of darkness, and there's a letter for you from
Bullknop 'treet, number two-two-five--green door and brass knocker!"

The packet was sent down into the cabin, and every one waited to hear
of the result.  As nothing came up, the officers began to feel that
they were acting rather a child's part, and turned the crew to again
and the same strict discipline was restored, which prohibits speech
between man and man, while at work on deck; so that, when the steward
came forward with letters for the crew, each man took his letters,
carried them below to his chest, and came up again immediately; and not
a letter was read until we had cleared up decks for the night.

An overstrained sense of manliness is the characteristic of seafaring
men, or, rather, of life on board ship.  This often gives an appearance
of want of feeling, and even of cruelty. From this, if a man comes
within an ace of breaking his neck and escapes, it is made a joke of;
and no notice must be taken of a bruise or cut; and any expression of
pity, or any show of attention, would look sisterly, and unbecoming a
man who has to face the rough and tumble of such a life.  From this,
too, the sick are neglected at sea, and whatever sailors may be ashore,
a sick man finds little sympathy or attention, forward or aft. A man,
too, can have nothing peculiar or sacred on board ship; for all the
nicer feelings they take pride in disregarding, both in themselves and
others.  A thin-skinned man could not live an hour on ship-board. One
would be torn raw unless he had the hide of an ox. A moment of natural
feeling for home and friends, and then the frigid routine of sea-life
returned.  Jokes were made upon those who showed any interest in the
expected news, and everything near and dear was made common stock for
rude jokes and unfeeling coarseness, to which no exception could be
taken by any one.

Supper, too, must be eaten before the letters were read; and when, at
last, they were brought out, they all got round any one who had a
letter, and expected to have it read aloud, and have it all in common.
If any one went by himself to read, it was--"Fair play, there; and no
skulking!"  I took mine and went into the sailmaker's berth, where I
could read it without interruption.  It was dated August, just a year
from the time I had sailed from home; and every one was well, and no
great change had taken place.  Thus, for one year, my mind was set at
ease, yet it was already six months from the date of the letter, and
what another year would bring to pass, who could tell?  Every one away
from home thinks that some great thing must have happened, while to
those at home there seems to be a continued monotony and lack of
incident.

As much as my feelings were taken up by my own intelligence from home,
I could not but be amused by a scene in the steerage. The carpenter had
been married just before leaving Boston, and during the voyage had
talked much about his wife, and had to bear and forbear, as every man,
known to be married, must, aboard ship; yet the certainty of hearing
from his wife by the first ship, seemed to keep up his spirits.  The
California came, the packet was brought on board; no one was in higher
spirits than he; but when the letters came forward, there was none for
him.  The captain looked again, but there was no mistake.  Poor
"Chips," could eat no supper. He was completely down in the mouth.
"Sails" (the sailmaker) tried to comfort him, and told him he was a
bloody fool to give up his grub for any woman's daughter, and reminded
him that he had told him a dozen times that he'd never see or hear from
his wife again.

"Ah!" said "Chips," "you don't know what it is to have a wife, and"--

"Don't I?" said Sails; and then came, for the hundredth time, the story
of his coming ashore at New York, from the Constellation frigate, after
a cruise of four years round the Horn,--being paid off with over five
hundred dollars,--marrying, and taking a couple of rooms in a
four-story house,--furnishing the rooms, (with a particular account of
the furniture, including a dozen flag-bottomed chairs, which he always
dilated upon, whenever the subject of furniture was alluded to,)--going
off to sea again, leaving his wife half-pay, like a fool,--coming home
and finding her "off, like Bob's horse, with nobody to pay the
reckoning;" furniture gone,--flag-bottomed chairs and all;--and with
it, his "long togs," the half-pay, his beaver hat, white linen shirts,
and everything else.  His wife he never saw, or heard of, from that day
to this, and never wished to.  Then followed a sweeping assertion, not
much to the credit of the sex, if true, though he has Pope to back him.
"Come, Chips, cheer up like a man, and take some hot grub!  Don't be
made a fool of by anything in petticoats!  As for your wife, you'll
never see her again; she was 'up keeleg and off' before you were
outside of Cape Cod.  You hove your money away like a fool; but every
man must learn once, just as I did; so you'd better square the yards
with her, and make the best of it."

This was the best consolation "Sails" had to offer, but it did not seem
to be just the thing the carpenter wanted; for, during several days, he
was very much dejected, and bore with difficulty the jokes of the
sailors, and with still more difficulty their attempts at advice and
consolation, of most of which the sailmaker's was a good specimen.

Thursday, Feb. 25th.  Set sail for Santa Barbara, where we arrived on
Sunday, the 28th.  We just missed of seeing the California, for she had
sailed three days before, bound to Monterey, to enter her cargo and
procure her license, and thence to San Francisco, etc. Captain Arthur
left files of Boston papers for Captain T----, which, after they had
been read and talked over in the cabin, I procured from my friend the
third mate.  One file was of all the Boston Transcripts for the month
of August, 1835, and the rest were about a dozen Daily Advertisers and
Couriers, of different dates.  After all, there is nothing in a strange
land like a newspaper from home.  Even a letter, in many respects, is
nothing, in comparison with it.  It carries you back to the spot,
better than anything else.  It is almost equal to clairvoyance.  The
names of the streets, with the things advertised, are almost as good as
seeing the signs; and while reading "Boy lost!" one can almost hear the
bell and well-known voice of "Old Wilson," crying the boy as "strayed,
stolen, or mislaid!"  Then there was the Commencement at Cambridge, and
the full account of the exercises at the graduating of my own class.  A
list of all those familiar names, (beginning as usual with Abbot, and
ending with W., ) which, as I read them over, one by one, brought up
their faces and characters as I had known them in the various scenes of
college life.  Then I imagined them upon the stage, speaking their
orations, dissertations, colloquies, etc., with the gestures and tones
of each, and tried to fancy the manner in which each would handle his
subject, *****, handsome, showy, and superficial; *****, with his
strong head, clear brain, cool self-possession; *****, modest,
sensitive, and underrated; *****, the mouth-piece of the debating
clubs, noisy, vaporous, and democratic; and so following. Then I could
see them receiving their A. Bs. from the dignified, feudal-looking
President, with his "auctoritate mihi commissa," and walking off the
stage with their diplomas in their hands; while upon the very same day,
their classmate was walking up and down California beach with a hide
upon his head.

Every watch below, for a week, I pored over these papers, until I was
sure there could be nothing in them that had escaped my attention, and
was ashamed to keep them any longer.

Saturday, March 5th.  This was an important day in our almanac, for it
was on this day that we were first assured that our voyage was really
drawing to a close.  The captain gave orders to have the ship ready for
getting under weigh; and observed that there was a good breeze to take
us down to San Pedro.  Then we were not going up to windward.  Thus
much was certain, and was soon known, fore and aft; and when we went in
the gig to take him off, he shook hands with the people on the beach,
and said that he never expected to see Santa Barbara again.  This
settled the matter, and sent a thrill of pleasure through the heart of
every one in the boat. We pulled off with a will, saying to ourselves
(I can speak for myself at least)--"Good-by, Santa Barbara!--This is
the last pull here--No more duckings in your breakers, and slipping
from your cursed SOUTH-EASTERs!"  The news was soon known aboard, and
put life into everything when we were getting under weigh.  Each one
was taking his last look at the mission, the town, the breakers on the
beach, and swearing that no money would make him ship to see them
again; and when all hands tallied on to the cat-fall, the chorus of
"Time for us to go!" was raised for the first time, and joined in, with
full swing, by everybody.  One would have thought we were on our voyage
home, so near did it seem to us, though there were yet three months for
us on the coast.

We left here the young Englishman, George Marsh, of whom I have before
spoken, who was wrecked upon the Pelew Islands.  He left us to take the
berth of second mate on board the Ayacucho, which was lying in port.
He was well qualified for this, and his education would enable him to
rise to any situation on board ship.  I felt really sorry to part from
him.  There was something about him which excited my curiosity; for I
could not, for a moment, doubt that he was well born, and, in early
life, well bred.  There was the latent gentleman about him, and the
sense of honor, and no little of the pride, of a young man of good
family.  The situation was offered him only a few hours before we
sailed; and though he must give up returning to America, yet I have no
doubt that the change from a dog's berth to an officer's, was too
agreeable to his feelings to be declined.  We pulled him on board the
Ayacucho, and when he left the boat he gave each of its crew a piece of
money, except myself, and shook hands with me, nodding his head, as
much as to say,--"We understand one another," and sprang on board.  Had
I known, an hour sooner, that he was to leave us, I would have made an
effort to get from him the true history of his early life.  He knew
that I had no faith in the story which he told the crew, and perhaps,
in the moment of parting from me, probably forever, he would have given
me the true account.  Whether I shall ever meet him again, or whether
his manuscript narrative of his adventures in the Pelew Islands, which
would be creditable to him and interesting to the world, will ever see
the light, I cannot tell.  His is one of those cases which are more
numerous than those suppose, who have never lived anywhere but in their
own homes, and never walked but in one line from their cradles to their
graves.  We must come down from our heights, and leave our straight
paths, for the byways and low places of life, if we would learn truths
by strong contrasts; and in hovels, in forecastles, and among our own
outcasts in foreign lands, see what has been wrought upon our
fellow-creatures by accident, hardship, or vice.

Two days brought us to San Pedro, and two days more (to our no small
joy) gave us our last view of that place, which was universally called
the hell of California, and seemed designed, in every way, for the wear
and tear of sailors.  Not even the last view could bring out one
feeling of regret.  No thanks, thought I, as we left the sandy shores
in the distance, for the hours I have walked over your stones,
barefooted, with hides on my head;--for the burdens I have carried up
your steep, muddy hill;  for the duckings in your surf; and for the
long days and longer nights passed on your desolate hill, watching
piles of hides, hearing the sharp bark of your eternal coati, and the
dismal hooting of your owls.

As I bade good-by to each successive place, I felt as though one link
after another were struck from the chain of my servitude. Having kept
close in shore, for the land-breeze, we passed the mission of San Juan
Campestrano the same night, and saw distinctly, by the bright
moonlight, the hill which I had gone down by a pair of halyards in
search of a few paltry hides.  "Forsan et haec olim," thought I, and
took my last look of that place too.  And on the next morning we were
under the high point of San Diego.  The flood tide took us swiftly in,
and we came-to, opposite our hide-house, and prepared to get everything
in trim for a long stay.  This was our last port.  Here we were to
discharge everything from the ship, clean her out, smoke her, take in
our hides, wood, water, etc., and set sail for Boston.  While all this
was doing, we were to lie still in one place, and the port was a safe
one, and there was no fear of SOUTH-EASTERs.  Accordingly, having
picked out a good berth, in the stream, with a good smooth beach
opposite, for a landing-place and within two cables' length of our
hide-house, we moored ship, unbent all the sails, sent down the
top-gallant yards and all the studding-sail booms, and housed the
top-gallant masts.  The boats were then hove out, and all the sails,
spare spars, the stores, the rigging not rove, and, in fact, everything
which was not in daily use, sent ashore, and stowed away in the house.
Then went all our hides and horns, and we left hardly anything in the
ship but her ballast, and this we made preparation to heave out, the
next day.  At night, after we had knocked off, and were sitting round
in the forecastle, smoking and talking and taking sailor's pleasure, we
congratulated ourselves upon being in that situation in which we had
wished ourselves every time we had come into San Diego.  "If we were
only here for the last time," we had often said, "with our top-gallant
masts housed and our sails unbent!"--and now we had our wish.  Six
weeks, or two months, of the hardest work we had yet seen, was before
us, and then--"Good-by to California!"




CHAPTER XXIX

LOADING FOR HOME--A SURPRISE--LAST OF AN OLD FRIEND--THE LAST HIDE--A
HARD CASE--UP ANCHOR, FOR HOME!--HOMEWARD BOUND

We turned-in early, knowing that we might expect an early call; and
sure enough, before the stars had quite faded, "All hands ahoy!" and we
were turned-to, heaving out ballast.  A regulation of the port forbids
any ballast to be thrown overboard; accordingly, our long-boat was
lined inside with rough boards and brought alongside the gangway, but
where one tub-full went into the boat, twenty went overboard. This is
done by every vessel, for the ballast can make but little difference in
the channel, and it saves more than a week of labor, which would be
spent in loading the boats, rowing them to the point, and unloading
them.  When any people from the Presidio were on board, the boat was
hauled up and ballast thrown in; but when the coast was clear, she was
dropped astern again, and the ballast fell overboard. This is one of
those petty frauds which every vessel practises in ports of inferior
foreign nations, and which are lost sight of, among the countless deeds
of greater weight which are hardly less common.  Fortunately a sailor,
not being a free agent in work aboard ship, is not accountable; yet the
fact of being constantly employed, without thought, in such things,
begets an indifference to the rights of others.

Friday, and a part of Saturday, we were engaged in this work, until we
had thrown out all but what we wanted under our cargo on the passage
home; when, as the next day was Sunday, and a good day for smoking
ship, we cleared everything out of the cabin and forecastle, made a
slow fire of charcoal, birch bark, brimstone, and other matters, on the
ballast in the bottom of the hold, calked up the hatches and every open
seam, and pasted over the cracks of the windows, and the slides of the
scuttles, and companionway.  Wherever smoke was seen coming out, we
calked and pasted, and, so far as we could, made the ship smoke tight.
The captain and officers slept under the awning which was spread over
the quarter-deck; and we stowed ourselves away under an old
studding-sail, which we drew over one side of the forecastle. The next
day, from fear that something might happen, orders were given for no
one to leave the ship, and, as the decks were lumbered up with
everything, we could not wash them down, so we had nothing to do, all
day long. Unfortunately, our books were where we could not get at them,
and we were turning about for something to do, when one man recollected
a book he had left in the galley.  He went after it, and it proved to
be Woodstock.  This was a great windfall, and as all could not read it
at once, I, being the scholar of the company, was appointed reader.  I
got a knot of six or eight about me, and no one could have had a more
attentive audience. Some laughed at the "scholars," and went over the
other side of the forecastle, to work, and spin their yarns; but I
carried the day, and had the cream of the crew for my hearers.  Many of
the reflections, and the political parts, I omitted, but all the
narrative they were delighted with; especially the descriptions of the
Puritans, and the sermons and harangues of the Round-head soldiers.
The gallantry of Charles, Dr. Radcliffe's plots, the knavery of "trusty
Tompkins,"--in fact, every part seemed to chain their attention.  Many
things which, while I was reading, I had a misgiving about, thinking
them above their capacity, I was surprised to find them enter into
completely.

I read nearly all day, until sundown; when, as soon as supper was over,
as I had nearly finished, they got a light from the galley; and by
skipping what was less interesting, I carried them through to the
marriage of Everard, and the restoration of Charles the Second, before
eight o'clock.

The next morning, we took the battens from the hatches, and opened the
ship.  A few stifled rats were found; and what bugs, cockroaches,
fleas, and other vermin, there might have been on board, must have
unrove their life-lines before the hatches were opened.  The ship being
now ready, we covered the bottom of the hold over, fore and aft, with
dried brush for dunnage, and having levelled everything away, we were
ready to take in our cargo.  All the hides that had been collected
since the California left the coast, (a little more than two years,)
amounting to about forty thousand, were cured, dried, and stowed away
in the house, waiting for our good ship to take them to Boston.

Now began the operation of taking in our cargo, which kept us hard at
work, from the grey of the morning till star-light, for six weeks, with
the exception of Sundays, and of just time to swallow our meals. To
carry the work on quicker, a division of labor was made.  Two men threw
the hides down from the piles in the house, two more picked them up and
put them on a long horizontal pole, raised a few feet from the ground,
where they were beaten, by two more, with flails, somewhat like those
used in threshing wheat.  When beaten, they were taken from this pole
by two more, and placed upon a platform of boards; and ten or a dozen
men, with their trowsers rolled up, were constantly going, back and
forth, from the platform to the boat, which was kept off where she
would just float, with the hides upon their heads.  The throwing the
hides upon the pole was the most difficult work, and required a sleight
of hand which was only to be got by long practice.  As I was known for
a hide-curer, this post was assigned to me, and I continued at it for
six or eight days, tossing, in that time, from eight to ten thousand
hides, until my wrists became so lame that I gave in; and was
transferred to the gang that was employed in filling the boats, where I
remained for the rest of the time.  As we were obliged to carry the
hides on our heads from fear of their getting wet, we each had a piece
of sheepskin sewed into the inside of our hats, with the wool next to
our heads, and thus were able to bear the weight, day after day, which
would otherwise have soon worn off our hair, and borne hard upon our
skulls.  Upon the whole, ours was the best berth; for though the water
was nipping cold, early in the morning and late at night, and being so
continually wet was rather an exposure, yet we got rid of the constant
dust and dirt from the beating of the hides, and being all of us young
and hearty, did not mind the exposure. The older men of the crew, whom
it would have been dangerous to have kept in the water, remained on
board with the mate, to stow the hides away, as fast as they were
brought off by the boats.

We continued at work in this manner until the lower hold was filled to
within four feet of the beams, when all hands were called aboard to
commence steeving.  As this is a peculiar operation, it will require a
minute description.

Before stowing the hides, as I have said, the ballast is levelled off,
just above the keelson, and then loose dunnage placed upon it, on which
the hides rest.  The greatest care is used in stowing, to make the ship
hold as many hides as possible.  It is no mean art, and a man skilled
in it is an important character in California.  Many a dispute have I
heard raging high between professed "beach-combers," as to whether the
hides should be stowed "shingling," or "back-to-back, and
flipper-to-flipper;" upon which point there was an entire and bitter
division of sentiment among the savans.  We adopted each method at
different periods of the stowing, and parties ran high in the
forecastle, some siding with "old Bill" in favor of the former, and
others scouting him, and relying upon "English Bob" of the Ayacucho,
who had been eight years in California, and was willing to risk his
life and limb for the latter method.  At length a compromise was
effected, and a middle course, of shifting the ends and backs at every
lay, was adopted, which worked well, and which, though they held it
inferior to their own, each party granted was better than that of the
other.

Having filled the ship up, in this way, to within four feet of her
beams, the process of steeving commenced, by which an hundred hides are
got into a place where one could not be forced by hand, and which
presses the hides to the utmost, sometimes starting the beams of the
ship, resembling in its effects the jack-screws which are used in
stowing cotton.  Each morning we went ashore, and beat and brought off
as many hides as we could steeve in the course of the day, and, after
breakfast, went down into the hold, where we remained at work until
night.  The whole length of the hold, from stem to stern, was floored
off level, and we began with raising a pile in the after part, hard
against the bulkhead of the run, and filling it up to the beams,
crowding in as many as we could by hand and pushing in with oars; when
a large "book" was made of from twenty-five to fifty hides, doubled at
the backs, and put into one another, like the leaves of a book.  An
opening was then made between two hides in the pile, and the back of
the outside hide of the book inserted.  Two long, heavy spars, called
steeves, made of the strongest wood, and sharpened off like a wedge at
one end, were placed with their wedge ends into the inside of the hide
which was the centre of the book, and to the other end of each, straps
were fitted, into which large tackles were hooked, composed each of two
huge purchase blocks, one hooked to the strap on the end of the steeve,
and the other into a dog, fastened into one of the beams, as far aft as
it could be got.  When this was arranged, and the ways greased upon
which the book was to slide, the falls of the tackles were stretched
forward, and all hands tallied on, and bowsed away until the book was
well entered; when these tackles were nippered, straps and toggles
clapped upon the falls, and two more luff tackles hooked on, with dogs,
in the same manner; and thus, by luff upon luff, the power was
multiplied, until into a pile in which one hide more could not be
crowded by hand, an hundred or an hundred and fifty were often driven
in by this complication of purchases.  When the last luff was hooked
on, all hands were called to the rope--cook, steward, and all--and
ranging ourselves at the falls, one behind the other, sitting down on
the hides, with our heads just even with the beams, we set taut upon
the tackles, and striking up a song, and all lying back at the chorus,
we bowsed the tackles home, and drove the large books chock in out of
sight.

The sailor's songs for capstans and falls are of a peculiar kind,
having a chorus at the end of each line.  The burden is usually sung,
by one alone, and, at the chorus, all hands join in,--and the louder
the noise, the better.  With us, the chorus seemed almost to raise the
decks of the ship, and might be heard at a great distance, ashore.  A
song is as necessary to sailors as the drum and fife to a soldier.
They can't pull in time, or pull with a will, without it.  Many a time,
when a thing goes heavy, with one fellow yo-ho-ing, a lively song, like
"Heave, to the girls!"  "Nancy oh!"  "Jack Cross-tree," etc., has put
life and strength into every arm. We often found a great difference in
the effect of the different songs in driving in the hides.  Two or
three songs would be tried, one after the other; with no effect;--not
an inch could be got upon the tackles--when a new song, struck up,
seemed to hit the humor of the moment, and drove the tackles "two
blocks" at once. "Heave round hearty!"  "Captain gone ashore!" and the
like, might do for common pulls, but in an emergency, when we wanted a
heavy, "raise-the-dead" pull, which should start the beams of the ship,
there was nothing like "Time for us to go!"  "Round the corner," or
"Hurrah! hurrah! my hearty bullies!"

This was the most lively part of our work.  A little boating and beach
work in the morning; then twenty or thirty men down in a close hold,
where we were obliged to sit down and slide about, passing hides, and
rowsing about the great steeves, tackles, and dogs, singing out at the
falls, and seeing the ship filling up every day.  The work was as hard
as it could well be.  There was not a moment's cessation from Monday
morning till Saturday night, when we were generally beaten out, and
glad to have a full night's rest, a wash and shift of clothes, and a
quiet Sunday.  During all this time,--which would have startled Dr.
Graham--we lived upon almost nothing but fresh beef; fried beefsteaks,
three times a day,--morning, noon, and night.  At morning and night we
had a quart of tea to each man; and an allowance of about a pound of
hard bread a day; but our chief article of food was the beef. A mess,
consisting of six men, had a large wooden kid piled up with beefsteaks,
cut thick, and fried in fat, with the grease poured over them.  Round
this we sat, attacking it with our jack-knives and teeth, and with the
appetite of young lions, and sent back an empty kid to the galley.
This was done three times a day.  How many pounds each man ate in a
day, I will not attempt to compute.  A whole bullock (we ate liver and
all) lasted us but four days.  Such devouring of flesh, I will venture
to say, was seldom known before.  What one man ate in a day, over a
hearty man's allowance, would make a Russian's heart leap into his
mouth. Indeed, during all the time we were upon the coast, our
principal food was fresh beef, and every man had perfect health; but
this was a time of especial devouring; and what we should have done
without meat, I cannot tell.  Once or twice, when our bullocks failed
and we were obliged to make a meal upon dry bread and water, it seemed
like feeding upon shavings.  Light and dry, feeling unsatisfied, and,
at the same time, full, we were glad to see four quarters of a bullock,
just killed, swinging from the fore-top.  Whatever theories may be
started by sedentary men, certainly no men could have gone through more
hard work and exposure for sixteen months in more perfect health, and
without ailings and failings, than our ship's crew, let them have lived
upon Hygeia's own baking and dressing.

Friday, April 15th.  Arrived, brig Pilgrim, from the windward. It was a
sad sight for her crew to see us getting ready to go off the coast,
while they, who had been longer on the coast than the Alert, were
condemned to another year's hard service.  I spent an evening on board,
and found them making the best of the matter, and determined to rough
it out as they might; but my friend S---- was determined to go home in
the ship, if money or interest could bring it to pass.  After
considerable negotiating and working, he succeeded in persuading my
English friend, Tom Harris,--my companion in the anchor watch--for
thirty dollars, some clothes, and an intimation from Captain Faucon
that he should want a second mate before the voyage was up, to take his
place in the brig as soon as she was ready to go up to windward.

The first opportunity I could get to speak to Captain Faucon, I asked
him to step up to the oven and look at Hope, whom he knew well, having
had him on board his vessel.  He went to see him, but said that he had
so little medicine, and expected to be so long on the coast, that he
could do nothing for him, but that Captain Arthur would take care of
him when he came down in the California, which would be in a week or
more.  I had been to see Hope the first night after we got into San
Diego this last time, and had frequently since spent the early part of
a night in the oven.  I hardly expected, when I left him to go to
windward, to find him alive upon my return.  He was certainly as low as
he could well be when I left him, and what would be the effect of the
medicines that I gave him, I hardly then dared to conjecture. Yet I
knew that he must die without them.  I was not a little rejoiced,
therefore, and relieved, upon our return, to see him decidedly better.
The medicines were strong, and took hold and gave a check to the
disorder which was destroying him; and, more than that, they had begun
the work of exterminating it.  I shall never forget the gratitude that
he expressed.  All the Kanakas attributed his escape solely to my
knowledge, and would not be persuaded that I had not all the secrets of
the physical system open to me and under my control.  My medicines,
however, were gone, and no more could be got from the ship, so that his
life was left to hang upon the arrival of the California.

Sunday, April 24th.  We had now been nearly seven weeks in San Diego,
and had taken in the greater part of our cargo, and were looking out,
every day, for the arrival of the California, which had our agent on
board; when, this afternoon, some Kanakas, who had been over the hill
for rabbits and to fight rattlesnakes, came running down the path,
singing out, "Kail ho!" with all their might.  Mr. H., our third mate,
was ashore, and asking them particularly about the size of the sail,
etc., and learning that it was "Moku--Nui Moku," hailed our ship, and
said that the California was on the other side of the point.
Instantly, all hands were turned up, the bow guns run out and loaded,
the ensign and broad pennant set, the yards squared by lifts and
braces, and everything got ready to make a good appearance.  The
instant she showed her nose round the point, we began our salute.  She
came in under top-gallant sails, clewed up and furled her sails in good
order, and came-to, within good swinging distance of us.  It being
Sunday, and nothing to do, all hands were on the forecastle,
criticising the new-comer. She was a good, substantial ship, not quite
so long as the Alert, and wall-sided and kettle-bottomed, after the
latest fashion of south-shore cotton and sugar wagons; strong, too, and
tight, and a good average sailor, but with no pretensions to beauty,
and nothing in the style of a "crack ship."  Upon the whole, we were
perfectly satisfied that the Alert might hold up her head with a ship
twice as smart as she.

At night, some of us got a boat and went on board, and found a large,
roomy forecastle, (for she was squarer forward than the Alert,) and a
crew of a dozen or fifteen men and boys, sitting around on their
chests, smoking and talking, and ready to give a welcome to any of our
ship's company.  It was just seven months since they left Boston, which
seemed but yesterday to us.  Accordingly, we had much to ask, for
though we had seen the newspapers that she brought, yet these were the
very men who had been in Boston and seen everything with their own
eyes.  One of the green-hands was a Boston boy, from one of the public
schools, and, of course, knew many things which we wished to ask about,
and on inquiring the names of our two Boston boys, found that they had
been schoolmates of his.  Our men had hundreds of questions to ask
about Ann street, the boarding-houses, the ships in port, the rate of
wages, and other matters.

Among her crew were two English man-of-war's-men, so that, of course,
we soon had music.  They sang in the true sailor's style, and the rest
of the crew, which was a remarkably musical one, joined in the
choruses.  They had many of the latest sailor songs, which had not yet
got about among our merchantmen, and which they were very choice of.
They began soon after we came on board, and kept it up until after two
bells, when the second mate came forward and called "the Alerts away!"
Battle-songs, drinking-songs, boat-songs, love-songs, and everything
else, they seemed to have a complete assortment of, and I was glad to
find that "All in the Downs," "Poor Tom Bowline," "The Bay of Biscay,"
"List, ye Landsmen!" and all those classical songs of the sea, still
held their places.  In addition to these, they had picked up at the
theatres and other places a few songs of a little more genteel cast,
which they were very proud of; and I shall never forget hearing an old
salt, who had broken his voice by hard drinking on shore, and bellowing
from the mast-head in a hundred northwesters, with all manner of
ungovernable trills and quavers in the high notes, breaking into a
rough falsetto--and in the low ones, growling along like the dying away
of the boatswain's "all hands ahoy!" down the hatch-way, singing, "Oh,
no, we never mention him."

  "Perhaps, like me, he struggles with
  Each feeling of regret;
  But if he's loved as I have loved,
  He never can forget!"

The last line, being the conclusion, he roared out at the top of his
voice, breaking each word up into half a dozen syllables. This was very
popular, and Jack was called upon every night to give them his
"sentimental song."  No one called for it more loudly than I, for the
complete absurdity of the execution, and the sailors' perfect
satisfaction in it, were ludicrous beyond measure.

The next day, the California commenced unloading her cargo; and her
boats' crews, in coming and going, sang their boat-songs, keeping time
with their oars.  This they did all day long for several days, until
their hides were all discharged, when a gang of them were sent on board
the Alert, to help us steeve our hides. This was a windfall for us, for
they had a set of new songs for the capstan and fall, and ours had got
nearly worn out by six weeks' constant use.  I have no doubt that this
timely reinforcement of songs hastened our work several days.

Our cargo was now nearly all taken in; and my old friend, the Pilgrim,
having completed her discharge, unmoored, to set sail the next morning
on another long trip to windward.  I was just thinking of her hard lot,
and congratulating myself upon my escape from her, when I received a
summons into the cabin.  I went aft, and there found, seated round the
cabin table, my own captain, Captain Faucon of the Pilgrim, and Mr.
R----, the agent.  Captain T---- turned to me and asked abruptly--

"D----, do you want to go home in the ship?"

"Certainly, sir," said I; "I expect to go home in the ship."

"Then," said he, "you must get some one to go in your place on board
the Pilgrim."

I was so completely "taken aback" by this sudden intimation, that for a
moment I could make no reply.  I knew that it would be hopeless to
attempt to prevail upon any of the ship's crew to take twelve months
more upon the California in the brig.  I knew, too, that Captain T----
had received orders to bring me home in the Alert, and he had told me,
when I was at the hide-house, that I was to go home in her; and even if
this had not been so, it was cruel to give me no notice of the step
they were going to take, until a few hours before the brig would sail.
As soon as I had got my wits about me, I put on a bold front, and told
him plainly that I had a letter in my chest informing me that he had
been written to, by the owners in Boston, to bring me home in the ship,
and moreover, that he had told me that I was to go in the ship.

To have this told him, and to be opposed in such a manner, was more
than my lord paramount had been used to.

He turned fiercely upon me, and tried to look me down, and face me out
of my statement; but finding that that wouldn't do, and that I was
entering upon my defence in such a way as would show to the other two
that he was in the wrong,--he changed his ground, and pointed to the
shipping papers of the Pilgrim, from which my name had never been
erased, and said that there was my name,--that I belonged to her,--that
he had an absolute discretionary power,--and, in short, that I must be
on board the Pilgrim by the next morning with my chest and hammock, or
have some one ready to go in my place, and that he would not hear
another word from me.  No court or star chamber could proceed more
summarily with a poor devil, than this trio was about to do with me;
condemning me to a punishment worse than a Botany Bay exile, and to a
fate which would alter the whole current of my future life; for two
years more in California would have made me a sailor for the rest of my
days.  I felt all this, and saw the necessity of being determined.  I
repeated what I had said, and insisted upon my right to return in the
ship.

  I "raised my arm, and tauld my crack,
  Before them a'."

But it would have all availed me nothing, had I been "some poor body,"
before this absolute, domineering tribunal.  But they saw that I would
not go, unless "vi et armis," and they knew that I had friends and
interest enough at home to make them suffer for any injustice they
might do me.  It was probably this that turned the matter; for the
captain changed his tone entirely, and asked me if, in case any one
went in my place, I would give him the same sum that S---- gave Harris
to exchange with him.  I told him that if any one was sent on board the
brig, I should pity him, and be willing to help him to that, or almost
any amount; but would not speak of it as an exchange.

"Very well," said he.  "Go forward about your business, and send
English Ben here to me!"

I went forward with a light heart, but feeling as angry, and as much
contempt as I could well contain between my teeth.  English Ben was
sent aft, and in a few moments came forward, looking as though he had
received his sentence to be hung.  The captain had told him to get his
things ready to go on board the brig the next morning; and that I would
give him thirty dollars and a suit of clothes. The hands had "knocked
off" for dinner, and were standing about the forecastle, when Ben came
forward and told his story.  I could see plainly that it made a great
excitement, and that, unless I explained the matter to them, the
feeling would be turned against me.  Ben was a poor English boy, a
stranger in Boston, and without friends or money; and being an active,
willing lad, and a good sailor for his years, was a general favorite.
"Oh, yes!" said the crew, "the captain has let you off, because you are
a gentleman's son, and have got friends, and know the owners; and taken
Ben, because he is poor, and has got nobody to say a word for him!"  I
knew that this was too true to be answered, but I excused myself from
any blame, and told them that I had a right to go home, at all events.
This pacified them a little, but Jack had got a notion that a poor lad
was to be imposed upon, and did not distinguish very clearly; and
though I knew that I was in no fault, and, in fact, had barely escaped
the grossest injustice, yet I felt that my berth was getting to be a
disagreeable one.  The notion that I was not "one of them," which, by a
participation in all their labor and hardships, and having no favor
shown me, had been laid asleep, was beginning to revive. But far
stronger than any feeling for myself, was the pity I felt for the poor
lad.  He had depended upon going home in the ship; and from Boston, was
going immediately to Liverpool, to see his friends.  Beside this,
having begun the voyage with very few clothes, he had taken up the
greater part of his wages in the slop-chest, and it was every day a
losing concern to him; and, like all the rest of the crew, he had a
hearty hatred of California, and the prospect of eighteen months or two
years more of hide-droghing seemed completely to break down his spirit.
I had determined not to go myself, happen what would, and I knew that
the captain would not dare to attempt to force me. I knew, too, that
the two captains had agreed together to get some one, and that unless I
could prevail upon somebody to go voluntarily, there would be no help
for Ben.  From this consideration, though I had said that I would have
nothing to do with an exchange, I did my best to get some one to go
voluntarily.  I offered to give an order upon the owners in Boston for
six months' wages, and also all the clothes, books, and other matters,
which I should not want upon the voyage home.  When this offer was
published in the ship, and the case of poor Ben was set forth in strong
colors, several, who would not have dreamed of going themselves, were
busy in talking it up to others, who, they thought, might be tempted to
accept it; and, at length, one fellow, a harum-scarum lad, whom we
called Harry Bluff, and who did not care what country or ship he was
in, if he had clothes enough and money enough--partly from pity for
Ben, and partly from the thought he should have "cruising money" for
the rest of his stay,--came forward, and offered to go and "sling his
hammock in the bloody hooker."  Lest his purpose should cool, I signed
an order for the sum upon the owners in Boston, gave him all the
clothes I could spare, and sent him aft to the captain, to let him know
what had been done.  The skipper accepted the exchange, and was,
doubtless, glad to have it pass off so easily. At the same time he
cashed the order, which was endorsed to him,[1] and the next morning,
the lad went aboard the brig, apparently in good spirits, having shaken
hands with each of us and wished us a pleasant passage home, jingling
the money in his pockets, and calling out, "Never say die, while
there's a shot in the locker."  The same boat carried off Harris, my
old watchmate, who had previously made an exchange with my friend S----.

I was sorry to part with Harris.  Nearly two hundred hours (as we had
calculated it) had we walked the ship's deck together, at anchor watch,
when all hands were below, and talked over and over every subject which
came within the ken of either of us.  He gave me a strong gripe with
his hand; and I told him, if he came to Boston again, not to fail to
find me out, and let me see an old watchmate. The same boat brought on
board S----, my friend, who had begun the voyage with me from Boston,
and, like me, was going back to his family and to the society which we
had been born and brought up in.  We congratulated one another upon
finding what we had long talked over and wished for, thus brought
about; and none on board the ship were more glad than ourselves to see
the old brig standing round the point, under full sail.  As she passed
abreast of us, we all collected in the waist, and gave her three loud,
hearty cheers, waving our hats in the air.  Her crew sprang into the
rigging and chains, answered us with three as loud, to which we, after
the nautical custom, gave one in return. I took my last look of their
familiar faces as they got over the rail, and saw the old black cook
put his head out of the galley, and wave his cap over his head.  The
crew flew aloft to loose the top-gallant sails and royals; the two
captains waved their hands to one another; and, in ten minutes, we saw
the last inch of her white canvas, as she rounded the point.

Relieved as I was to see her well off, (and I felt like one who had
just sprung from an iron trap which was closing upon him) I had yet a
feeling of regret at taking the last look at the old craft in which I
had spent a year, and the first year, of my sailor's life--which had
been my first home in the new world into which I had entered--and with
which I had associated so many things,--my first leaving home, my first
crossing the equator, Cape Horn, Juan Fernandez, death at sea, and
other things, serious and common.  Yet, with all this, and the feeling
I had for my old shipmates, condemned to another term of California
life, the thought that we were done with it, and that one week more
would see us on our way to Boston, was a cure for everything.

Friday, May 6th, completed the taking of our cargo, and was a memorable
day in our calendar.  The time when we were to take in our last hide,
we had looked forward to, for sixteen months, as the first bright spot.
When the last hide was stowed away, and the hatches calked down, the
tarpaulins battened on to them, the long-boat hoisted in and secured,
and the decks swept down for the night,--the chief mate sprang upon the
top of the long-boat, called all hands into the waist, and giving us a
signal by swinging his cap over his head,--we gave three long, loud
cheers, which came from the bottom of our hearts, and made the hills
and valleys ring again.  In a moment, we heard three, in answer, from
the California's crew, who had seen us taking in our long-boat,
and--"the cry they heard--its meaning knew."

The last week, we had been occupied in taking in a supply of wood and
water for the passage home, and bringing on board the spare spars,
sails, etc.  I was sent off with a party of Indians to fill the
water-casks, at a spring, about three miles from the shipping, and near
the town, and was absent three days, living at the town, and spending
the daytime in filling the casks and transporting them on ox-carts to
the landing-place, whence they were taken on board by the crew with
boats.  This being all done with, we gave one day to bending our sails;
and at night, every sail, from the courses to the skysails, was bent,
and every studding-sail ready for setting.

Before our sailing, an unsuccessful attempt was made by one of the crew
of the California to effect an exchange with one of our number.  It was
a lad, between fifteen and sixteen years of age, who went by the name
of the "reefer," having been a midshipman in an East India Company's
ship.  His singular character and story had excited our interest ever
since the ship came into the port. He was a delicate, slender little
fellow, with a beautiful pearly complexion, regular features, forehead
as white as marble, black haired, curling beautifully, rounded,
tapering, delicate fingers, small feet, soft voice, gentle manners,
and, in fact, every sign of having been well born and bred.  At the
same time there was something in his expression which showed a slight
deficiency of intellect.  How great the deficiency was, or what it
resulted from; whether he was born so; whether it was the result of
disease or accident; or whether, as some said, it was brought on by his
distress of mind, during the voyage, I cannot say.  From his own
account of himself, and from many circumstances which were known in
connection with his story, he must have been the son of a man of
wealth.  His mother was an Italian woman.  He was probably a natural
son, for in scarcely any other way could the incidents of his early
life be accounted for.  He said that his parents did not live together,
and he seemed to have been ill treated by his father.  Though he had
been delicately brought up, and indulged in every way, (and he had then
with him trinkets which had been given him at home,) yet his education
had been sadly neglected; and when only twelve years old, he was sent
as midshipman in the Company's service.  His own story was, that he
afterwards ran away from home, upon a difficulty which he had with his
father, and went to Liverpool, whence he sailed in the ship Rialto,
Captain Holmes, for Boston.  Captain Holmes endeavored to get him a
passage back, but there being no vessel to sail for some time, the boy
left him, and went to board at a common sailor's boarding-house, in Ann
street, where he supported himself for a few weeks by selling some of
his valuables.  At length, according to his own account, being desirous
of returning home, he went to a shipping-office, where the shipping
articles of the California were open.  Upon asking where the ship was
going, he was told by the shipping-master that she was bound to
California.  Not knowing where that was, he told him that he wanted to
go to Europe, and asked if California was in Europe.  The
shipping-master answered him in a way which the boy did not understand,
and advised him to ship.  The boy signed the articles, received his
advance, laid out a little of it in clothes, and spent the rest, and
was ready to go on board, when, upon the morning of sailing, he heard
that the ship was bound upon the North-west Coast, on a two or three
years' voyage, and was not going to Europe.  Frightened at this
prospect, he slipped away when the crew was going aboard, wandered up
into another part of the town, and spent all the forenoon in straying
about the common, and the neighboring streets.

Having no money, and all his clothes and other things being in the
chest, on board, and being a stranger, he became tired and hungry, and
ventured down toward the shipping, to see if the vessel had sailed.  He
was just turning the corner of a street, when the shipping-master, who
had been in search of him, popped upon him, seized him, and carried him
on board.  He cried and struggled, and said he did not wish to go in
the ship, but the topsails were at the mast-head, the fasts just ready
to be cast off, and everything in the hurry and confusion of departure,
so that he was hardly noticed; and the few who did inquire about the
matter were told that it was merely a boy who had spent his advance and
tried to run away.  Had the owners of the vessel known anything of the
matter, they would have interfered at once; but they either knew
nothing of it, or heard, like the rest, that it was only an unruly boy
who was sick of his bargain.  As soon as the boy found himself actually
at sea, and upon a voyage of two or three years in length, his spirits
failed him; he refused to work, and became so miserable, that Captain
Arthur took him into the cabin, where he assisted the steward, and
occasionally pulled and hauled about decks. He was in this capacity
when we saw him; and though it was much better for him than the life in
the forecastle, and the hard work, watching, and exposure, which his
delicate frame could not have borne, yet, to be joined with a black
fellow in waiting upon a man whom he probably looked upon as but
little, in point of education and manners, above one of his father's
servants, was almost too much for his spirit to bear.  Had he entered
upon his situation of his own free will, he could have endured it; but
to have been deceived, and, in addition to that, forced into it, was
intolerable.  He made every effort to go home in our ship, but his
captain refused to part with him except in the way of exchange, and
that he could not effect.  If this account of the whole matter, which
we had from the boy, and which was confirmed by all the crew, be
correct, I cannot understand why Captain Arthur should have refused to
let him go, especially being a captain who had the name, not only with
that crew, but with all whom he had ever commanded, of an unusually
kind-hearted man.

The truth is, the unlimited power which merchant captains have, upon
long voyages on strange coasts, takes away a sense of responsibility,
and too often, even in men otherwise well-disposed, substitutes a
disregard for the rights and feelings of others.  The lad was sent on
shore to join the gang at the hide-house; from whence, I was afterwards
rejoiced to hear, he effected his escape, and went down to Callao in a
small Spanish schooner; and from Callao, he probably returned to
England.

Soon after the arrival of the California, I spoke to Captain Arthur
about Hope; and as he had known him on the voyage before, and was very
fond of him, he immediately went to see him, gave him proper medicines,
and, under such care, he began rapidly to recover.  The Saturday night
before our sailing, I spent an hour in the oven, and took leave of my
Kanaka friends; and, really, this was the only thing connected with
leaving California which was in any way unpleasant.  I felt an interest
and affection for many of these simple, true-hearted men, such as I
never felt before but for a near relation.  Hope shook me by the hand,
said he should soon be well again, and ready to work for me when I came
upon the coast, next voyage, as officer of the ship; and told me not to
forget, when I became captain, how to be kind to the sick. Old "Mr.
Bingham" and "King Mannini" went down to the boat with me, shook me
heartily by the hand, wished us a good voyage, and went back to the
oven, chanting one of their deep monotonous songs, the burden of which
I gathered to be about us and our voyage.

Sunday, May 8th.  This promised to be our last day in California.

Our forty thousand hides, thirty thousand horns, besides several
barrels of otter and beaver skins, were all stowed below, and the
hatches calked down.  All our spare spars were taken on board and
lashed; our water-casks secured; and our live stock, consisting of four
bullocks, a dozen sheep, a dozen or more pigs, and three or four dozen
of poultry, were all stowed away in their different quarters: the
bullocks in the long-boat, the sheep in a pen on the fore-hatch, and
the pigs in a sty under the bows of the long-boat, and the poultry in
their proper coop; and the jolly-boat was full of hay for the sheep and
bullocks.  Our unusually large cargo, together with the stores for a
five months' voyage, brought the ship channels down into the water.  In
addition to this, she had been steeved so thoroughly, and was so bound
by the compression of her cargo, forced into her by so powerful
machinery, that she was like a man in a straight-jacket, and would be
but a dull sailer, until she had worked herself loose.

The California had finished discharging her cargo, and was to get under
weigh at the same time with us.  Having washed down decks and got our
breakfast, the two vessels lay side by side, in complete readiness for
sea, our ensigns hanging from the peaks, and our tall spars reflected
from the glassy surface of the river, which, since sunrise, had been
unbroken by a ripple.  At length, a few whiffs came across the water,
and, by eleven o'clock, the regular north-west wind set steadily in.
There was no need of calling all hands, for we had all been hanging
about the forecastle the whole forenoon, and were ready for a start
upon the first sign of a breeze.

All eyes were aft upon the captain, who was walking the deck, with,
every now and then, a look to windward.  He made a sign to the mate,
who came forward, took his station, deliberately between the
knight-heads, cast a glance aloft, and called out, "All hands, lay
aloft and loose the sails!"  We were half in the rigging before the
order came, and never since we left Boston were the gaskets off the
yards, and the rigging overhauled, in a shorter time.  "All ready
forward, sir!"--"All ready the main!"--"Cross-jack yards all ready,
sir!"--"Lay down, all hands but one on each yard!"  The yard-arm and
bunt gaskets were cast off; and each sail hung by the jigger, with one
man standing by the tie to let it go.  At the same moment that we
sprang aloft, a dozen hands sprang into the rigging of the California,
and in an instant were all over her yards; and her sails, too, were
ready to be dropped at the word.  In the mean time our bow gun had been
loaded and run out, and its discharge was to be the signal for dropping
sails.  A cloud of smoke came out of our bows; the echoes of the gun
rattled our farewell among the hills of California; and the two ships
were covered, from head to foot, with their white canvas.  For a few
minutes, all was uproar and apparent confusion: men flying about like
monkeys in the rigging; ropes and blocks flying; orders given and
answered, and the confused noises of men singing out at the ropes.  The
top-sails came to the mast-heads with "Cheerily, men!" and, in a few
minutes, every sail was set; for the wind was light.  The head sails
were backed, the windlass came round "slip-slap" to the cry of the
sailors;--"Hove short, sir," said the mate;--"Up with him!"--"Aye, aye,
sir."--A few hearty and long heaves, and the anchor showed its head.
"Hook cat!"--The fall was stretched along the decks; all hands laid
hold;--"Hurrah, for the last time," said the mate; and the anchor came
to the cat-head to the tune of "Time for us to go," with a loud chorus.
Everything was done quick, as though it were for the last time.  The
head yards were filled away, and our ship began to move through the
water on her homeward-bound course.

The California had got under weigh at the same moment; and we sailed
down the narrow bay abreast and were just off the mouth, and finding
ourselves gradually shooting ahead of her, were on the point of giving
her three parting cheers, when, suddenly, we found ourselves stopped
short, and the California ranging fast ahead of us.  A bar stretches
across the mouth of the harbor, with water enough to float common
vessels, but, being low in the water, and having kept well to leeward,
as we were bound to the southward, we had stuck fast, while the
California, being light, had floated over.

We kept all sail on, in the hope of forcing over, but failing in this,
we hove aback, and lay waiting for the tide, which was on the flood, to
take us back into the channel.  This was somewhat of a damper to us,
and the captain looked not a little mortified and vexed.  "This is the
same place where the Rosa got ashore," observed the redheaded second
mate, most mal-a-propos.  A malediction on the Rosa, and him too, was
all the answer he got, and he slunk off to leeward.  In a few minutes,
the force of the wind and the rising of the tide backed us into the
stream, and we were on our way to our old anchoring-place, the tide
setting swiftly up, and the ship barely manageable, in the light
breeze.  We came-to, in our old berth, opposite the hide-house, whose
inmates were not a little surprised to see us return.  We felt as
though we were tied to California; and some of the crew swore that they
never should get clear of the bloody coast.

In about half an hour, which was near high water, the order was given
to man the windlass, and again the anchor was catted; but not a word
was said about the last time.  The California had come back on finding
that we had returned, and was hove-to, waiting for us, off the point.
This time we passed the bar safely, and were soon up with the
California, who filled away, and kept us company.

She seemed desirous of a trial of speed, and our captain accepted the
challenge, although we were loaded down to the bolts of our chain
plates, as deep as a sand-barge, and bound so taut with our cargo
that we were no more fit for a race than a man in fetters;--while our
antagonist was in her best trim.  Being clear of the point, the breeze
became stiff, and the royal masts bent under our sails, but we would
not take them in until we saw three boys spring aloft into the rigging
of the California; when they were all furled at once, but with orders
to stay aloft at the top-gallant mastheads, and loose them again at the
word.  It was my duty to furl the fore royal; and while standing by to
loose it again, I had a fine view of the scene.  From where I stood,
the two vessels seemed nothing but spars and sails, while their narrow
decks, far below, slanting over by the force of the wind aloft,
appeared hardly capable of supporting the great fabrics raised upon
them.  The California was to windward of us, and had every advantage;
yet, while the breeze was stiff, we held our own.  As soon as it began
to slacken, she ranged a little ahead, and the order was given to loose
the royals.  In an instant the gaskets were off and the bunt dropped.
"Sheet home the fore royal!--Weather sheet's home!"--"Hoist away, sir!"
is bawled from aloft. "Overhaul your clew-lines!" shouts the mate.
"Aye, aye, sir, all clear!"--"taut leech! belay!  Well the lee brace;
haul taut to windward"--and the royals are set.  These brought us up
again; but the wind continuing light, the California set hers, and it
was soon evident that she was walking away from us.  Our captain then
hailed, and said that he should keep off to his course; adding--"She
isn't the Alert now.  If I had her in your trim, she would have been
out of sight by this time."  This was good-naturedly answered from the
California, and she braced sharp up, and stood close upon the wind up
the coast; while we squared away our yards, and stood before the wind
to the south-south-west.  The California's crew manned her weather
rigging, waved their hats in the air, and gave up three hearty cheers,
which we answered as heartily, and the customary single cheer came back
to us from over the water.  She stood on her way, doomed to eighteen
months' or two years' hard service upon that hated coast, while we were
making our way to our home, to which every hour and every mile was
bringing us nearer.

As soon as we parted company with the California, all hands were sent
aloft to set the studding-sails.  Booms were rigged out, tacks and
halyards rove, sail after sail packed upon her, until every available
inch of canvas was spread, that we might not lose a breath of the fair
wind.  We could now see how much she was cramped and deadened by her
cargo; for with a good breeze on her quarter, and every stitch of
canvas spread, we could not get more than six knots out of her.  She
had no more life in her than if she were water-logged.  The log was
hove several times; but she was doing her best.  We had hardly patience
with her, but the older sailors said--"Stand by! you'll see her work
herself loose in a week or two, and then she'll walk up to Cape Horn
like a race-horse."

When all sail had been set, and the decks cleared up, the California
was a speck in the horizon, and the coast lay like a low cloud along
the north-east.  At sunset they were both out of sight, and we were
once more upon the ocean where sky and water meet.


[1] When the crew were paid off in Boston, the owners answered the
order, but generously refused to deduct the amount from the pay-roll,
saying that the exchange was made under compulsion. They also allowed
S---- his exchange money.




CHAPTER XXX

BEGINNING THE LONG RETURN VOYAGE--A SCARE

At eight o'clock all hands were called aft, and the watches set for the
voyage.  Some changes were made; but I was glad to find myself still in
the larboard watch.  Our crew was somewhat diminished; for a man and a
boy had gone in the Pilgrim; another was second mate of the Ayacucho;
and a third, the oldest man of the crew, had broken down under the hard
work and constant exposure on the coast, and, having had a stroke of
the palsy, was left behind at the hide-house under the charge of
Captain Arthur.  The poor fellow wished very much to come home in the
ship; and he ought to have been brought home in her.  But a live dog is
better than a dead lion, and a sick sailor belongs to nobody's mess; so
he was sent ashore with the rest of the lumber, which was only in the
way. By these diminutions, we were short-handed for a voyage round Cape
Horn in the dead of winter.  Besides S---- and myself, there were only
five in the forecastle; who, together with four boys in the steerage,
the sailmaker, carpenter, etc., composed the whole crew.  In addition
to this, we were only three or four days out, when the sailmaker, who
was the oldest and best seaman on board, was taken with the palsy, and
was useless for the rest of the voyage.  The constant wading in the
water, in all weathers, to take off hides, together with the other
labors, is too much for old men, and for any who have not good
constitutions.  Beside these two men of ours, the second officer of the
California and the carpenter of the Pilgrim broke down under the work,
and the latter died at Santa Barbara.  The young man, too, who came out
with us from Boston in the Pilgrim, had to be taken from his berth
before the mast and made clerk, on account of a fit of rheumatism which
attacked him soon after he came upon the coast.  By the loss of the
sailmaker, our watch was reduced to five, of whom two were boys, who
never steered but in fine weather, so that the other two and myself had
to stand at the wheel four hours apiece out of every twenty-four; and
the other watch had only four helmsmen.  "Never mind--we're homeward
bound!" was the answer to everything; and we should not have minded
this, were it not for the thought that we should be off Cape Horn in
the very dead of winter.  It was now the first part of May; and two
months would bring us off the cape in July, which is the worst month in
the year there; when the sun rises at nine and sets at three, giving
eighteen hours night, and there is snow and rain, gales and high seas,
in abundance.

The prospect of meeting this in a ship half manned, and loaded so deep
that every heavy sea must wash her fore and aft, was by no means
pleasant.  The Alert, in her passage out, doubled the Cape in the month
of February, which is midsummer; and we came round in the Pilgrim in
the latter part of October, which we thought was bad enough.  There was
only one of our crew who had been off there in the winter, and that was
in a whaleship, much lighter and higher than our ship; yet he said they
had man-killing weather for twenty days without intermission, and their
decks were swept twice, and they were all glad enough to see the last
of it.  The Brandywine frigate, also, in her passage round, had sixty
days off the Cape, and lost several boats by the heavy sea.  All this
was for our comfort; yet pass it we must; and all hands agreed to make
the best of it.

During our watches below we overhauled our clothes, and made and mended
everything for bad weather.  Each of us had made for himself a suit of
oil-cloth or tarpaulin, and these we got out, and gave thorough
coatings of oil or tar, and hung upon the stays to dry.

Our stout boots, too, we covered over with a thick mixture of melted
grease and tar, and hung out to dry.  Thus we took advantage of the
warm sun and fine weather of the Pacific to prepare for its other face.
In the forenoon watches below, our forecastle looked like the workshop
of what a sailor is,--a Jack at all trades.  Thick stockings and
drawers were darned and patched; mittens dragged from the bottom of the
chest and mended; comforters made for the neck and ears; old flannel
shirts cut up to line monkey jackets; south-westers lined with flannel,
and a pot of paint smuggled forward to give them a coat on the outside;
and everything turned to hand; so that, although two years had left us
but a scanty wardrobe, yet the economy and invention which necessity
teaches a sailor, soon put each of us in pretty good trim for bad
weather, even before we had seen the last of the fine.  Even the
cobbler's art was not out of place.  Several old shoes were very
decently repaired, and with waxed ends, an awl, and the top of an old
boot, I made me quite a respectable sheath for my knife.

There was one difficulty, however, which nothing that we could do would
remedy; and that was the leaking of the forecastle, which made it very
uncomfortable in bad weather, and rendered half of the berths
tenantless.  The tightest ships, in a long voyage, from the constant
strain which is upon the bowsprit, will leak, more or less, round the
heel of the bowsprit, and the bitts, which come down into the
forecastle; but, in addition to this, we had an unaccountable leak on
the starboard bow, near the cat-head, which drove us from the forward
berths on that side, and, indeed, when she was on the starboard tack,
from all the forward berths.  One of the after berths, too, leaked in
very bad weather; so that in a ship which was in other respects as
tight as a bottle, and brought her cargo to Boston perfectly dry, we
had, after every effort made to prevent it, in the way of caulking and
leading, a forecastle with only three dry berths for seven of us.
However, as there is never but one watch below at a time, by 'turning
in and out,' we did pretty well.  And there being, in our watch, but
three of us who lived forward, we generally had a dry berth apiece in
bad weather.[1]

All this, however, was but anticipation.  We were still in fine weather
in the North Pacific, running down the north-east trades, which we took
on the second day after leaving San Diego.

Sunday, May 15th, one week out, we were in latitude 14 deg. 56' N., long.
116 deg. 14' W., having gone, by reckoning, over thirteen hundred miles
in seven days.  In fact, ever since leaving San Diego, we had had a fair
wind, and as much as we wanted of it.  For seven days, our lower and
topmast studding-sails were set all the time, and our royals and
top-gallant studding-sails, whenever she could stagger under them.
Indeed, the captain had shown, from the moment we got to sea, that he
was to have no boy's play, but that the ship had got to carry all she
could, and that he was going to make up, by "cracking on" to her, what
she wanted in lightness.  In this way, we frequently made three degrees
of latitude, besides something in longitude, in the course of
twenty-four hours.--Our days were spent in the usual ship's work.  The
rigging which had become slack from being long in port was to be set
up; breast backstays got up; studding-sail booms rigged upon the main
yard; and the royal studding-sails got ready for the light trades;
ring-tail set; and new rigging fitted and sails got ready for Cape
Horn.  For, with a ship's gear, as well as a sailor's wardrobe, fine
weather must be improved to get ready for the bad to come.  Our
forenoon watch below, as I have said, was given to our own work, and
our night watches were spent in the usual manner:--a trick at the
wheel, a look-out on the forecastle, a nap on a coil of rigging under
the lee of the rail; a yarn round the windlass-end; or, as was
generally my way, a solitary walk fore and aft, in the weather waist,
between the windlass-end and the main tack.  Every wave that she threw
aside brought us nearer home, and every day's observation at noon
showed a progress which, if it continued, would in less than five
months, take us into Boston Bay.  This is the pleasure of life at
sea,--fine weather, day after day, without interruption,--fair wind,
and a plenty of it,--and homeward bound.  Every one was in good humor;
things went right; and all was done with a will.  At the dog watch, all
hands came on deck, and stood round the weather side of the forecastle,
or sat upon the windlass, and sung sea songs, and those ballads of
pirates and highwaymen, which sailors delight in.  Home, too, and what
we should do when we got there, and when and how we should arrive, was
no infrequent topic. Every night, after the kids and pots were put
away, and we had lighted our pipes and cigars at the galley, and
gathered about the windlass, the first question was,--

"Well, Tom, what was the latitude to-day?"

"Why fourteen, north, and she has been going seven knots ever since."

"Well, this will bring us up to the line in five days."

"Yes, but these trades won't last twenty-four hours longer," says an
old salt, pointing with the sharp of his hand to leeward,--"I know that
by the look of the clouds."

Then came all manner of calculations and conjectures as to the
continuance of the wind, the weather under the line, the south-east
trades, etc., and rough guesses as to the time the ship would be up
with the Horn; and some, more venturous, gave her so many days to
Boston light, and offered to bet that she would not exceed it.

"You'd better wait till you get round Cape Horn," says an old croaker.

"Yes," says another, "you may see Boston, but you've got to 'smell
hell' before that good day."

Rumors also of what had been said in the cabin, as usual, found their
way forward.  The steward had heard the captain say something about the
straits of Magellan, and the man at the wheel fancied he had heard him
tell the "passenger" that, if he found the wind ahead and the weather
very bad off the Cape, he should stick her off for New Holland, and
come home round the Cape of Good Hope.

This passenger--the first and only one we had had, except to go from
port to port, on the coast, was no one else than a gentleman whom I had
known in my better days; and the last person I should have expected to
have seen on the coast of California--Professor N----, of Cambridge.  I
had left him quietly seated in the chair of Botany and Ornithology, in
Harvard University; and the next I saw of him, was strolling about San
Diego beach, in a sailor's pea-jacket, with a wide straw hat, and
barefooted, with his trowsers roiled up to his knees, picking up stones
and shells. He had travelled overland to the North-west Coast, and come
down in a small vessel to Monterey.  There he learned that there was a
ship at the leeward, about to sail for Boston; and, taking passage in
the Pilgrim, which was then at Monterey, he came slowly down, visiting
the intermediate ports, and examining the trees, plants, earths, birds,
etc., and joined us at San Diego shortly before we sailed.  The second
mate of the Pilgrim told me that they had an old gentleman on board who
knew me, and came from the college that I had been in.

He could not recollect his name, but said he was a "sort of an oldish
man," with white hair, and spent all his time in the bush, and along
the beach, picking up flowers and shells, and such truck, and had a
dozen boxes and barrels, full of them.  I thought over everybody who
would be likely to be there, but could fix upon no one; when, the next
day, just as we were about to shove off from the beach, he came down to
the boat, in the rig I have described, with his shoes in his hand, and
his pockets full of specimens. I knew him at once, though I should not
have been more surprised to have seen the Old South steeple shoot up
from the hide-house. He probably had no less difficulty in recognizing
me.  As we left home about the same time, we had nothing to tell one
another; and, owing to our different situations on board, I saw but
little of him on the passage home.  Sometimes, when I was at the wheel
of a calm night, and the steering required no attention, and the
officer of the watch was forward, he would come aft and hold a short
yarn with me; but this was against the rules of the ship, as is, in
fact, all intercourse between passengers and the crew. I was often
amused to see the sailors puzzled to know what to make of him, and to
hear their conjectures about him and his business. They were as much
puzzled as our old sailmaker was with the captain's instruments in the
cabin.

He said there were three:--the chro-nometer, the chre-nometer, and the
the-nometer.  (Chronometer, barometer, and thermometer.) The Pilgrim's
crew christened Mr. N. "Old Curious," from his zeal for curiosities,
and some of them said that he was crazy, and that his friends let him
go about and amuse himself in this way.  Why else a rich man (sailors
call every man rich who does not work with his hands, and wears a long
coat and cravat) should leave a Christian country, and come to such a
place as California, to pick up shells and stones, they could not
understand.  One of them, however, an old salt, who had seen something
more of the world ashore, set all to rights, as he thought,--"Oh, 'vast
there!--You don't know anything about them craft.  I've seen them
colleges, and know the ropes.  They keep all such things for
cur'osities, and study 'em, and have men a' purpose to go and get 'em.
This old chap knows what he's about.  He a'n't the child you take him
for.  He'll carry all these things to the college, and if they are
better than any that they have had before, he'll be head of the
college.  Then, by-and-by, somebody else will go after some more, and
if they beat him, he'll have to go again, or else give up his berth.
That's the way they do it.  This old covey knows the ropes.  He has
worked a traverse over 'em, and come 'way out here, where nobody's ever
been afore, and where they'll never think of coming."  This explanation
satisfied Jack; and as it raised Mr. N.'s credit for capacity, and was
near enough to the truth for common purposes, I did not disturb it.

With the exception of Mr. N., we had no one on board but the regular
ship's company, and the live stock.  Upon this, we had made a
considerable inroad.  We killed one of the bullocks every four days, so
that they did not last us up to the line. We, or, rather, they, then
began upon the sheep and the poultry, for these never come into Jack's
mess.[2]  The pigs were left for the latter part of the voyage, for
they are sailors, and can stand all weathers.  We had an old sow on
board, the mother of a numerous progeny, who had been twice round the
Cape of Good Hope, and once round Cape Horn.  The last time going
round, was very nearly her death.  We heard her squealing and moaning
one dark night, after it had been snowing and hailing for several
hours, and getting into the sty, we found her nearly frozen to death.
We got some straw, an old sail, and other things, and wrapped her up in
a corner of the sty, where she staid until we got into fine weather
again.

Wednesday, May 18th.  Lat. 9 deg. 54' N., long. 113 deg. 17' W.  The
north-east trades had now left us, and we had the usual variable winds,
which prevail near the line, together with some rain.  So long as we were
in these latitudes, we had but little rest in our watch on deck at night,
for, as the winds were light and variable, and we could not lose a
breath, we were all the watch bracing the yards, and taking in and
making sail, and "humbugging" with our flying kites.  A little puff of
wind on the larboard quarter, and then--"larboard fore braces!" and
studding-booms were rigged out, studding-sails set alow and aloft, the
yards trimmed, and jibs and spanker in; when it would come as calm as a
duck-pond, and the man at the wheel stand with the palm of his hand up,
feeling for the wind.  "Keep her off a little!"  "All aback forward,
sir!" cries a man from the forecastle.  Down go the braces again; in
come the studding-sails, all in a mess, which half an hour won't set
right; yards braced sharp up; and she's on the starboard tack, close
hauled.

The studding-sails must now be cleared away, and set up in the tops,
and on the booms.  By the time this is done, and you are looking out
for a soft plank for a nap,--"Lay aft here, and square in the head
yards!" and the studding-sails are all set again on the starboard side.
So it goes until it is eight bells,--call the watch,--heave the
log,--relieve the wheel, and go below the larboard watch.

[Editor's note: the "166 deg." in the following paragraph may be
an error, with "116 deg." actually meant.  However, this possible
error goes back to at least an 1869 edition of this book, so there
is no way to prove whether it's an error or not.]

Sunday, May 22d.  Lat. 5 deg. 14' N., long. 166 deg. 45' W.  We were now
a fortnight out, and within five degrees of the line, to which two days
of good breeze would take us; but we had, for the most part, what
sailors call "an Irishman's hurricane,--right up and down."

This day it rained nearly all day, and being Sunday, and nothing to do,
we stopped up the scuppers and filled the decks with rain water, and
bringing all our clothes on deck, had a grand wash, fore and aft.  When
this was through, we stripped to our drawers, and taking pieces of soap
and strips of canvas for towels, we turned-to and soaped, washed, and
scrubbed one another down, to get off, as we said, the California dust;
for the common wash in salt water, which is all Jack can get, being on
an allowance of fresh, had little efficacy, and was more for taste than
utility. The captain was below all the afternoon, and we had something
nearer to a Saturnalia than anything we had yet seen; for the mate came
into the scuppers, with a couple of boys to scrub him, and got into a
battle with them in heaving water.  By unplugging the holes, we let the
soap-suds off the decks, and in a short time had a new supply of rain
water, in which we had a grand rinsing. It was surprising to see how
much soap and fresh water did for the complexions of many of us; how
much of what we supposed to be tan and sea-blacking, we got rid of.
The next day, the sun rising clear, the ship was covered, fore and aft,
with clothes of all sorts, hanging out to dry.

As we approached the line, the wind became more easterly, and the
weather clearer, and in twenty days from San Diego,--

Saturday, May 28th, at about three P. M., with a fine breeze from the
east-south-east, we crossed the equator.  In twenty-four hours after
crossing the line, which was very unusual, we took the regular
south-east trades.  These winds come a little from the eastward of
south-east, and, with us, they blew directly from the east-south-east,
which was fortunate for us, for our course was south-by-west, and we
could thus go one point free.  The yards were braced so that every sail
drew, from the spanker to the flying-jib; and the upper yards being
squared in a little, the fore and main top-gallant studding-sails were
set, and just drew handsomely.  For twelve days this breeze blew
steadily, not varying a point, and just so fresh that we could carry
our royals; and, during the whole time, we hardly started a brace.
Such progress did we make, that at the end of seven days from the time
we took the breeze, on

Sunday, June 5th, we were in lat. 19 deg. 29' S., and long. 118 deg. 01'
W., having made twelve hundred miles in seven days, very nearly upon a
taut bowline.  Our good ship was getting to be herself again, had
increased her rate of sailing more than one-third since leaving San
Diego.  The crew ceased complaining of her, and the officers hove the
log every two hours with evident satisfaction. This was glorious
sailing.  A steady breeze; the light trade-wind clouds over our heads;
the incomparable temperature of the Pacific,--neither hot nor cold; a
clear sun every day, and clear moon and stars each night; and new
constellations rising in the south, and the familiar ones sinking in
the north, as we went on our course,--"stemming nightly toward the
pole."  Already we had sunk the north star and the Great Bear in the
northern horizon, and all hands looked out sharp to the southward for
the Magellan Clouds, which, each succeeding night, we expected to make.
"The next time we see the north star," said one, "we shall be standing
to the northward, the other side of the Horn." This was true enough,
and no doubt it would be a welcome sight; for sailors say that in
coming home from round Cape Horn, and the Cape of Good Hope, the north
star is the first land you make.

These trades were the same that, in the passage out in the Pilgrim,
lasted nearly all the way from Juan Fernandez to the line; blowing
steadily on our starboard quarter for three weeks, without our starting
a brace, or even brailing down the skysails.  Though we had now the
same wind, and were in the same latitude with the Pilgrim on her
passage out, yet we were nearly twelve hundred miles to the westward of
her course; for the captain, depending upon the strong south-west winds
which prevail in high southern latitudes during the winter months, took
the full advantage of the trades, and stood well to the westward, so
far that we passed within about two hundred miles of Ducie's Island.

It was this weather and sailing that brought to my mind a little
incident that occurred on board the Pilgrim, while we were in the same
latitude.  We were going along at a great rate, dead before the wind,
with studding-sails out on both sides, alow and aloft, on a dark night,
just after midnight, and everything was as still as the grave, except
the washing of the water by the vessel's side; for, being before the
wind, with a smooth sea, the little brig, covered with canvas, was
doing great business, with very little noise.  The other watch was
below, and all our watch, except myself and the man at the wheel, were
asleep under the lee of the boat. The second mate, who came out before
the mast, and was always very thick with me, had been holding a yarn
with me, and just gone aft to his place on the quarter-deck, and I had
resumed my usual walk to and from the windlass-end, when, suddenly, we
heard a loud scream coming from ahead, apparently directly from under
the bows.  The darkness, and complete stillness of the night, and the
solitude of the ocean, gave to the sound a dreadful and almost
supernatural effect.  I stood perfectly still, and my heart beat quick.

The sound woke up the rest of the watch, who stood looking at one
another.  "What, in the name of God, is that?" said the second mate,
coming slowly forward.  The first thought I had was, that it might be a
boat, with the crew of some wrecked vessel, or perhaps the boat of some
whaleship, out over night, and we had run them down in the darkness.
Another scream, but less loud than the first. This started us, and we
ran forward, and looked over the bows, and over the sides, to leeward,
but nothing was to be seen or heard.  What was to be done.  Call the
captain, and heave the ship aback?  Just at this moment, in crossing
the forecastle, one of the men saw a light below, and looking down the
scuttle, saw the watch all out of their berths, and afoul of one poor
fellow, dragging him out of his berth, and shaking him, to wake him out
of a nightmare.

They had been waked out of their sleep, and as much alarmed at the
scream as we were, and were hesitating whether to come on deck, when
the second sound, coming directly from one of the berths, revealed the
cause of the alarm.  The fellow got a good shaking for the trouble he
had given.  We made a joke of the matter and we could well laugh, for
our minds were not a little relieved by its ridiculous termination.

We were now close upon the southern tropical line, and, with so fine a
breeze, were daily leaving the sun behind us, and drawing nearer to
Cape Horn, for which it behoved us to make every preparation.  Our
rigging was all examined and overhauled, and mended, or replaced with
new, where it was necessary: new and strong bobstays fitted in the
place of the chain ones, which were worn out; the spritsail yard and
martingale guys and back-ropes set well taut; bran new fore and main
braces rove; top-gallant sheets, and wheel-ropes, made of green hide,
laid up in the form of rope, were stretched and fitted; and new
top-sail clewlines, etc., rove; new fore-topmast back-stays fitted; and
other preparations made, in good season, that the ropes might have time
to stretch and become limber before we got into cold weather.

Sunday, June 12th.  Lat. 26 deg. 04' S., 116 deg. 31' W.  We had now lost
the regular trades, and had the winds variable, principally from the
westward, and kept on, in a southerly course, sailing very nearly upon
a meridian, and at the end of the week,

Sunday, June 19th, were in lat. 34 deg. 15' S., and long. 116 deg. 38' W.



[1] On removing the cat-head, after the ship arrived at Boston, it was
found that there were two holes under it which had been bored for the
purpose of driving tree-nails, and which, accidentally, had not been
plugged up when the cat-head was placed over them.  This was sufficient
to account for the leak, and for our not having been able to discover
and stop it.

[2] The customs as to the allowance of "grub" are very nearly the same
in all American merchantmen.  Whenever a pig is killed, the sailors
have one mess from it.  The rest goes to the cabin.  The smaller live
stock, poultry, etc., they never taste.

And, indeed, they do not complain of this, for it would take a great
deal to supply them with a good meal, and without the accompaniments,
(which could hardly be furnished to them,) it would not be much better
than salt beef.  But even as to the salt beef, they are scarcely dealt
fairly with; for whenever a barrel is opened, before any of the beef is
put into the harness-cask, the steward comes up, and picks it all over,
and takes out the best pieces, (those that have any fat in them) for
the cabin.

This was done in both the vessels I was in, and the men said that it
was usual in other vessels.  Indeed, it is made no secret, but some of
the crew are usually called to help in assorting and putting away the
pieces.  By this arrangement the hard, dry pieces, which the sailors
call "old horse," come to their share.

There is a singular piece of rhyme, traditional among sailors, which
they say over such pieces of beef.  I do not know that it ever appeared
in print before.  When seated round the kid, if a particularly bad
piece is found, one of them takes it up, and addressing it, repeats
these lines: "Old horse! old horse! what brought you here?"

  --"From Sacarap to Portland pier
  I've carted stone this many a year:
  Till, killed by blows and sore abuse,
  They salted me down for sailors' use.

  The sailors they do me despise:
  They turn me over and damn my eyes;
  Cut off my meat, and pick my bones,
  And pitch the rest to Davy Jones."

There is a story current among seamen, that a beef-dealer was
convicted, at Boston, of having sold old horse for ship's stores,
instead of beef, and had been sentenced to be confined in jail, until
he should eat the whole of it; and that he is now lying in Boston jail.
I have heard this story often, on board other vessels beside those of
our own nation.  It is very generally believed, and is always highly
commended, as a fair instance of retaliatory justice.




CHAPTER XXXI

BAD PROSPECTS--FIRST TOUCH OF CAPE HORN--ICEBERGS--TEMPERANCE
SHIPS--LYING-UP--ICE--DIFFICULTY ON BOARD--CHANGE OF COURSE--STRAITS OF
MAGELLAN

There now began to be a decided change in the appearance of things. The
days became shorter and shorter; the sun running lower in its course
each day, and giving less and less heat; and the nights so cold as to
prevent our sleeping on deck; the Magellan Clouds in sight, of a clear
night; the skies looking cold and angry; and, at times, a long, heavy,
ugly sea, setting in from the southwards told us what we were coming
to.  Still, however, we had a fine, strong breeze, and kept on our way,
under as much sail as our ship would bear.  Toward the middle of the
week, the wind hauled to the southward, which brought us upon a taut
bowline, made the ship meet, nearly head on, the heavy swell which
rolled from that direction; and there was something not at all
encouraging in the manner in which she met it.  Being so deep and
heavy, she wanted the buoyancy which should have carried her over the
seas, and she dropped heavily into them, the water washing over the
decks; and every now and then, when an unusually large sea met her
fairly upon the bows, she struck it with a sound as dead and heavy as
that with which a sledge-hammer falls upon the pile, and took the whole
of it in upon the forecastle, and rising, carried it aft in the
scuppers, washing the rigging off the pins, and carrying along with it
everything which was loose on deck.  She had been acting in this way
all of our forenoon watch below; as we could tell by the washing of the
water over our heads, and the heavy breaking of the seas against her
bows, (with a sound as though she were striking against a rock,) only
the thickness of the plank from our heads, as we lay in our berths,
which are directly against the bows.  At eight bells, the watch was
called, and we came on deck, one hand going aft to take the wheel, and
another going to the galley to get the grub for dinner.  I stood on the
forecastle, looking at the seas, which were rolling high, as far as the
eye could reach, their tops white with foam, and the body of them of a
deep indigo blue, reflecting the bright rays of the sun.  Our ship rose
slowly over a few of the largest of them, until one immense fellow came
rolling on, threatening to cover her, and which I was sailor enough to
know, by "the feeling of her" under my feet, she would not rise over.
I sprang upon the knight-heads, and seizing hold of the fore-stay with
my hands, drew myself upon it.  My feet were just off the stanchion,
when she struck fairly into the middle of the sea, and it washed her
fore and aft, burying her in the water.  As soon as she rose out of it,
I looked aft, and everything forward of the main-mast, except the
long-boat, which was griped and double-lashed down to the ring-bolts,
was swept off clear.  The galley, the pig-sty, the hen-coop, and a
large sheep-pen which had been built upon the forehatch, were all gone,
in the twinkling of an eye--leaving the deck as clean as a chin
new-reaped--and not a stick left, to show where they had stood.  In the
scuppers lay the galley, bottom up, and a few boards floating about,
the wreck of the sheep-pen,--and half a dozen miserable sheep floating
among them, wet through, and not a little frightened at the sudden
change that had come upon them.  As soon as the sea had washed by, all
hands sprung out of the forecastle to see what had become of the ship
and in a few moments the cook and old Bill crawled out from under the
galley, where they had been lying in the water, nearly smothered, with
the galley over them.  Fortunately, it rested against the bulwarks, or
it would have broken some of their bones.  When the water ran off, we
picked the sheep up, and put them in the long-boat, got the galley back
in its place, and set things a little to rights; but, had not our ship
had uncommonly high bulwarks and rail, everything must have been washed
overboard, not excepting Old Bill and the cook.

Bill had been standing at the galley-door, with the kid of beef in his
hand for the forecastle mess, when, away he went, kid, beef, and all.
He held on to the kid till the last, like a good fellow, but the beef
was gone, and when the water had run off, we saw it lying high and dry,
like a rock at low tide--nothing could hurt that.  We took the loss of
our beef very easily, consoling ourselves with the recollection that
the cabin had more to lose than we; and chuckled not a little at seeing
the remains of the chicken-pie and pan-cakes floating in the scuppers.
"This will never do!" was what some said, and every one felt.  Here we
were, not yet within a thousand miles of the latitude of Cape Horn, and
our decks swept by a sea not one half so high as we must expect to find
there.  Some blamed the captain for loading his ship so deep, when he
knew what he must expect; while others said that the wind was always
southwest, off the Cape, in the winter; and that, running before it, we
should not mind the seas so much.  When we got down into the
forecastle, Old Bill, who was somewhat of a croaker,--having met with a
great many accidents at sea--said that if that was the way she was
going to act, we might as well make our wills, and balance the books at
once, and put on a clean shirt.  "'Vast there, you bloody old owl!
You're always hanging out blue lights!  You're frightened by the
ducking you got in the scuppers, and can't take a joke!  What's the use
in being always on the look-out for Davy Jones?"  "Stand by!" says
another, "and we'll get an afternoon watch below, by this scrape;" but
in this they were disappointed, for at two bells, all hands were called
and set to work, getting lashings upon everything on deck; and the
captain talked of sending down the long top-gallant masts; but, as the
sea went down toward night, and the wind hauled abeam, we left them
standing, and set the studding-sails.

The next day, all hands were turned-to upon unbending the old sails,
and getting up the new ones; for a ship, unlike people on shore, puts
on her best suit in bad weather.  The old sails were sent down, and
three new topsails, and new fore and main courses, jib, and
fore-topmast staysail, which were made on the coast, and never had been
used, were bent, with a complete set of new earings, robands and
reef-points; and reef-tackles were rove to the courses, and
spilling-lines to the top-sails. These, with new braces and clew-lines,
fore and aft, gave us a good suit of running rigging.

The wind continued westerly, and the weather and sea less rough since
the day on which we shipped the heavy sea, and we were making great
progress under studding-sails, with our light sails all set, keeping a
little to the eastward of south; for the captain, depending upon
westerly winds off the Cape, had kept so far to the westward, that
though we were within about five hundred miles of the latitude of Cape
Horn, we were nearly seventeen hundred miles to the westward of it.
Through the rest of the week, we continued on with a fair wind,
gradually, as we got more to the southward, keeping a more easterly
course, and bringing the wind on our larboard quarter, until--

Sunday, June 26th, when, having a fine, clear day, the captain got a
lunar observation, as well as his meridian altitude, which made us in
lat. 47 deg. 50' S., long. 113 deg. 49' W.; Cape Horn bearing, according
to my calculation, E. S. E. 1/2 E., and distant eighteen hundred miles.

Monday, June 27th.  During the first part of this day, the wind
continued fair, and, as we were going before it, it did not feel very
cold, so that we kept at work on deck, in our common clothes and round
jackets.  Our watch had an afternoon watch below, for the first time
since leaving San Diego, and having inquired of the third mate what the
latitude was at noon, and made our usual guesses as to the time she
would need, to be up with the Horn, we turned-in, for a nap.  We were
sleeping away "at the rates of knots," when three knocks on the
scuttle, and "All hands ahoy!" started us from our berths.  What could
be the matter?  It did not appear to be blowing hard, and looking up
through the scuttle, we could see that it was a clear day, overhead;
yet the watch were taking in sail.

We thought there must be a sail in sight, and that we were about to
heave-to and speak her; and were just congratulating ourselves upon
it--for we had seen neither sail nor land since we had left port--when
we heard the mate's voice on deck, (he turned-in "all standing," and
was always on deck the moment he was called,) singing out to the men
who were taking in the studding-sails, and asking where his watch were.
We did not wait for a second call, but tumbled up the ladder; and
there, on the starboard bow, was a bank of mist, covering sea and sky,
and driving directly for us. I had seen the same before, in my passage
round in the Pilgrim, and knew what it meant, and that there was no
time to be lost. We had nothing on but thin clothes, yet there was not
a moment to spare, and at it we went.

The boys of the other watch were in the tops, taking in the top-gallant
studding-sails, and the lower and topmast studding-sails were coming
down by the run.  It was nothing but "haul down and clew up," until we
got all the studding-sails in, and the royals, flying-jib, and mizen
top-gallant sail furled, and the ship kept off a little, to take the
squall.  The fore and main top-gallant sails were still on her, for the
"old man" did not mean to be frightened in broad daylight, and was
determined to carry sail till the last minute.

We all stood waiting for its coming, when the first blast showed us
that it was not be trifled with.  Rain, sleet, snow, and wind, enough
to take our breath from us, and make the toughest turn his back to
windward!  The ship lay nearly over on her beam-ends; the spars and
rigging snapped and cracked; and her top-gallant masts bent like
whip-sticks.  "Clew up the fore and main top-gallant sails!" shouted
the captain, and all hands sprang to the clewlines. The decks were
standing nearly at an angle of forty-five degrees, and the ship going
like a mad steed through the water, the whole forward part of her in a
smother of foam.  The halyards were let go and the yard clewed down,
and the sheets started, and in a few minutes the sails smothered and
kept in by clewlines and buntlines.--"Furl 'em, sir?" asked the
mate.--"Let go the topsail halyards, fore and aft!" shouted the
captain, in answer, at the top of his voice. Down came the topsail
yards, the reef-tackles were manned and hauled out, and we climbed up
to windward, and sprang into the weather rigging.  The violence of the
wind, and the hail and sleet, driving nearly horizontally across the
ocean, seemed actually to pin us down to the rigging.  It was hard work
making head against them.  One after another, we got out upon the
yards. And here we had work to do; for our new sails, which had hardly
been bent long enough to get the starch out of them, were as stiff as
boards, and the new earings and reef-points, stiffened with the sleet,
knotted like pieces of iron wire.  Having only our round jackets and
straw hats on, we were soon wet through, and it was every moment
growing colder.  Our hands were soon stiffened and numbed, which, added
to the stiffness of everything else, kept us a good while on the yard.
After we had got the sail hauled upon the yard, we had to wait a long
time for the weather earing to be passed; but there was no fault to be
found, for French John was at the earing, and a better sailor never
laid out on a yard; so we leaned over the yard, and beat our hands upon
the sail to keep them from freezing.  At length the word came--"Haul
out to leeward,"--and we seized the reef-points and hauled the band
taut for the lee earing.  "taut band--Knot away," and we got the
first reef fast, and were just going to lay down, when--"Two reefs--two
reefs!" shouted the mate, and we had a second reef to take, in the same
way.  When this was fast, we laid down on deck, manned the halyards to
leeward, nearly up to our knees in water, set the topsail, and then
laid aloft on the main topsail yard, and reefed that sail in the same
manner; for, as I have before stated, we were a good deal reduced in
numbers, and, to make it worse, the carpenter, only two days before,
cut his leg with an axe, so that he could not go aloft.  This weakened
us so that we could not well manage more than one topsail at a time, in
such weather as this, and, of course, our labor was doubled.  From the
main topsail yard, we went upon the main yard, and took a reef in the
mainsail.  No sooner had we got on deck, than--"Lay aloft there,
mizen-top-men, and close-reef the mizen topsail!"  This called me; and
being nearest to the rigging, I got first aloft, and out to the weather
earing.  English Ben was on the yard just after me, and took the lee
earing, and the rest of our gang were soon on the yard, and began to
fist the sail, when the mate considerately sent up the cook and
steward, to help us.  I could now account for the long time it took to
pass the other earings, for, to do my best, with a strong hand to help
me at the dog's ear, I could not get it passed until I heard them
beginning to complain in the bunt.  One reef after another we took in,
until the sail was close-reefed, when we went down and hoisted away at
the halyards.  In the mean time, the jib had been furled and the
staysail set, and the ship, under her reduced sail, had got more
upright and was under management; but the two top-gallant sails were
still hanging in the buntlines, and slatting and jerking as though they
would take the masts out of her.  We gave a look aloft, and knew that
our work was not done yet; and, sure enough, no sooner did the mate see
that we were on deck, than--"Lay aloft there, four of you, and furl the
top-gallant sails!" This called me again, and two of us went aloft, up
the fore rigging, and two more up the main, upon the top-gallant yards.

The shrouds were now iced over, the sleet having formed a crust or cake
round all the standing rigging, and on the weather side of the masts
and yards.  When we got upon the yard, my hands were so numb that I
could not have cast off the knot of the gasket to have saved my life.
We both lay over the yard for a few seconds, beating our hands upon the
sail, until we started the blood into our fingers' ends, and at the
next moment our hands were in a burning heat.  My companion on the yard
was a lad, who came out in the ship a weak, puny boy, from one of the
Boston schools,--"no larger than a spritsail sheet knot," nor "heavier
than a paper of lamp-black," and "not strong enough to haul a shad off
a gridiron," but who was now "as long as a spare topmast, strong enough
to knock down an ox, and hearty enough to eat him." We fisted the sail
together, and after six or eight minutes of hard hauling and pulling
and beating down the sail, which was as stiff as sheet iron, we managed
to get it furled; and snugly furled it must be, for we knew the mate
well enough to be certain that if it got adrift again, we should be
called up from our watch below, at any hour of the night, to furl it.

I had been on the look-out for a moment to jump below and clap on a
thick jacket and south-wester; but when we got on deck we found that
eight bells had been struck, and the other watch gone below, so that
there were two hours of dog watch for us, and a plenty of work to do.
It had now set in for a steady gale from the south-west; but we were
not yet far enough to the southward to make a fair wind of it, for we
must give Terra del Fuego a wide berth.  The decks were covered with
snow, and there was a constant driving of sleet. In fact, Cape Horn had
set in with good earnest.  In the midst of all this, and before it
became dark, we had all the studding-sails to make up and stow away,
and then to lay aloft and rig in all the booms, fore and aft, and coil
away the tacks, sheets, and halyards. This was pretty tough work for
four or five hands, in the face of a gale which almost took us off the
yards, and with ropes so stiff with ice that it was almost impossible
to bend them.  I was nearly half an hour out on the end of the fore
yard, trying to coil away and stop down the topmast studding-sail tack
and lower halyards. It was after dark when we got through, and we were
not a little pleased to hear four bells struck, which sent us below for
two hours, and gave us each a pot of hot tea with our cold beef and
bread, and, what was better yet, a suit of thick, dry clothing, fitted
for the weather, in place of our thin clothes, which were wet through
and now frozen stiff.

This sudden turn, for which we were so little prepared, was as
unacceptable to me as to any of the rest; for I had been troubled for
several days with a slight tooth-ache, and this cold weather, and
wetting and freezing, were not the best things in the world for it.

I soon found that it was getting strong hold, and running over all
parts of my face; and before the watch was out I went aft to the mate,
who had charge of the medicine-chest, to get something for it.

But the chest showed like the end of a long voyage, for there was
nothing that would answer but a few drops of laudanum, which must be
saved for any emergency; so I had only to bear the pain as well as I
could.

When we went on deck at eight bells, it had stopped snowing, and there
were a few stars out, but the clouds were still black, and it was
blowing a steady gale.  Just before midnight, I went aloft and sent
down the mizen royal yard, and had the good luck to do it to the
satisfaction of the mate, who said it was done "out of hand and
ship-shape."  The next four hours below were but little relief to me,
for I lay awake in my berth, the whole time, from the pain in my face,
and heard every bell strike, and, at four o'clock, turned out with the
watch, feeling little spirit for the hard duties of the day.

Bad weather and hard work at sea can be borne up against very well, if
one only has spirit and health; but there is nothing brings a man down,
at such a time, like bodily pain and want of sleep.

There was, however, too much to do to allow time to think; for the gale
of yesterday, and the heavy seas we met with a few days before, while
we had yet ten degrees more southing to make, had convinced the captain
that we had something before us which was not to be trifled with, and
orders were given to send down the long top-gallant masts.  The
top-gallant and royal yards were accordingly struck, the flying
jib-boom rigged in, and the top-gallant masts sent down on deck, and
all lashed together by the side of the long-boat.

The rigging was then sent down and coiled away below, and everything
was made snug aloft.  There was not a sailor in the ship who was not
rejoiced to see these sticks come down; for, so long as the yards were
aloft, on the least sign of a lull, the top-gallant sails were loosed,
and then we had to furl them again in a snow-squall, and shin up and
down single ropes caked with ice, and send royal yards down in the
teeth of a gale coming right from the south pole.  It was an
interesting sight, too, to see our noble ship, dismantled of all her
top-hamper of long tapering masts and yards, and boom pointed with
spear-head, which ornamented her in port; and all that canvas, which a
few days before had covered her like a cloud, from the truck to the
water's edge, spreading far out beyond her hull on either side, now
gone; and she, stripped, like a wrestler for the fight.  It
corresponded, too, with the desolate character of her
situation;--alone, as she was, battling with storms, wind, and ice, at
this extremity of the globe, and in almost constant night.

Friday, July 1st.  We were now nearly up to the latitude of Cape Horn,
and having over forty degrees of easting to make, we squared away the
yards before a strong westerly gale, shook a reef out of the
fore-topsail, and stood on our way, east-by-south, with the prospect of
being up with the Cape in a week or ten days.  As for myself, I had had
no sleep for forty-eight hours; and the want of rest, together with
constant wet and cold, had increased the swelling, so that my face was
nearly as large as two, and I found it impossible to get my mouth open
wide enough to eat.  In this state, the steward applied to the captain
for some rice to boil for me, but he only got a--"No! d--- you! Tell
him to eat salt junk and hard bread, like the rest of them."  For this,
of course, I was much obliged to him, and in truth it was just what I
expected.  However, I did not starve, for the mate, who was a man as
well as a sailor, and had always been a good friend to me, smuggled a
pan of rice into the galley, and told the cook to boil it for me, and
not let the "old man" see it.  Had it been fine weather, or in port, I
should have gone below and lain by until my face got well; but in such
weather as this, and short-handed as we were, it was not for me to
desert my post; so I kept on deck, and stood my watch and did my duty
as well as I could.

Saturday, July 2nd.  This day the sun rose fair, but it ran too low in
the heavens to give any heat, or thaw out our sails and rigging; yet
the sight of it was pleasant; and we had a steady "reef topsail breeze"
from the westward.  The atmosphere, which had previously been clear and
cold, for the last few hours grew damp, and had a disagreeable, wet
chilliness in it; and the man who came from the wheel said he heard the
captain tell "the passenger" that the thermometer had fallen several
degrees since morning, which he could not account for in any other way
than by supposing that there must be ice near us; though such a thing
had never been heard of in this latitude, at this season of the year.
At twelve o'clock we went below, and had just got through dinner, when
the cook put his head down the scuttle and told us to come on deck and
see the finest sight that we had ever seen.  "Where away, cook?" asked
the first man who was up.  "On the larboard bow."  And there lay,
floating in the ocean, several miles off, an immense, irregular mass,
its top and points covered with snow, and its center of a deep indigo
color.

This was an iceberg, and of the largest size, as one of our men said
who had been in the Northern ocean.  As far as the eye could reach, the
sea in every direction was of a deep blue color, the waves running high
and fresh, and sparkling in the light, and in the midst lay this
immense mountain-island, its cavities and valleys thrown into deep
shade, and its points and pinnacles glittering in the sun.

All hands were soon on deck, looking at it, and admiring in various
ways its beauty and grandeur.  But no description can give any idea of
the strangeness, splendor, and, really, the sublimity, of the sight.

Its great size;--for it must have been from two to three miles in
circumference, and several hundred feet in height;--its slow motion, as
its base rose and sank in the water, and its high points nodded against
the clouds; the dashing of the waves upon it, which, breaking high with
foam, lined its base with a white crust; and the thundering sound of
the cracking of the mass, and the breaking and tumbling down of huge
pieces; together with its nearness and approach, which added a slight
element of fear,--all combined to give to it the character of true
sublimity.  The main body of the mass was, as I have said, of an indigo
color, its base crusted with frozen foam; and as it grew thin and
transparent toward the edges and top, its color shaded off from a deep
blue to the whiteness of snow.

It seemed to be drifting slowly toward the north, so that we kept away
and avoided it.  It was in sight all the afternoon; and when we got to
leeward of it, the wind died away, so that we lay-to quite near it for
a greater part of the night.  Unfortunately, there was no moon, but it
was a clear night, and we could plainly mark the long, regular heaving
of the stupendous mass, as its edges moved slowly against the stars.
Several times in our watch loud cracks were heard, which sounded as
though they must have run through the whole length of the iceberg, and
several pieces fell down with a thundering crash, plunging heavily into
the sea.  Toward morning, a strong breeze sprang up, and we filled
away, and left it astern, and at daylight it was out of sight.  The
next day, which was

Sunday, July 3d, the breeze continued strong, the air exceedingly
chilly, and the thermometer low.  In the course of the day we saw
several icebergs, of different sizes, but none so near as the one which
we saw the day before.  Some of them, as well as we could judge, at the
distance at which we were, must have been as large as that, if not
larger.  At noon we were in latitude 55 deg. 12' south, and supposed
longitude 89 deg. 5' west.  Toward night the wind hauled to the southward,
and headed us off our course a little, and blew a tremendous gale; but
this we did not mind, as there was no rain nor snow, and we were
already under close sail.

Monday, July 4th.  This was "independence day" in Boston. What firing
of guns, and ringing of bells, and rejoicings of all sorts, in every
part of our country!  The ladies (who have not gone down to Nahant, for
a breath of cool air, and sight of the ocean) walking the streets with
parasols over their heads, and the dandies in their white pantaloons
and silk stockings! What quantities of ice-cream have been eaten, and
what quantities of ice brought into the city from a distance, and sold
out by the lump and the pound!  The smallest of the islands which we
saw today would have made the fortune of poor Jack, if he had had it in
Boston; and I dare say he would have had no objection to being there
with it.  This, to be sure, was no place to keep the fourth of July.
To keep ourselves warm, and the ship out of the ice, was as much as we
could do.  Yet no one forgot the day; and many were the wishes, and
conjectures, and comparisons, both serious and ludicrous, which were
made among all hands.  The sun shone bright as long as it was up, only
that a scud of black clouds was ever and anon driving across it.  At
noon we were in lat. 54 deg. 27' S., and long. 85 deg. 5' W., having made
a good deal of easting, but having lost in our latitude by the heading of
the wind.  Between daylight and dark--that is, between nine o'clock and
three--we saw thirty-four ice islands, of various sizes; some no bigger
than the hull of our vessel, and others apparently nearly as large as
the one that we first saw; though, as we went on, the islands became
smaller and more numerous; and, at sundown of this day, a man at the
mast-head saw large fields of floating ice called "field-ice" at the
south-east.  This kind of ice is much more dangerous than the large
islands, for those can be seen at a distance, and kept away from; but
the field-ice, floating in great quantities, and covering the ocean for
miles and miles, in pieces of every size--large, flat, and broken
cakes, with here and there an island rising twenty and thirty feet, and
as large as the ship's hull;--this, it is very difficult to sheer clear
of.  A constant look-out was necessary; for any of these pieces, coming
with the heave of the sea, were large enough to have knocked a hole in
the ship, and that would have been the end of us; for no boat (even if
we could have got one out) could have lived in such a sea; and no man
could have lived in a boat in such weather.  To make our condition
still worse, the wind came out due east, just after sundown, and it
blew a gale dead ahead, with hail and sleet, and a thick fog, so that
we could not see half the length of the ship.  Our chief reliance, the
prevailing westerly gales, was thus cut off; and here we were, nearly
seven hundred miles to the westward of the Cape, with a gale dead from
the eastward, and the weather so thick that we could not see the ice
with which we were surrounded, until it was directly under our bows.

At four, P. M. (it was then quite dark) all hands were called, and sent
aloft in a violent squall of hail and rain, to take in sail.  We had
now all got on our "Cape Horn rig"--thick boots, south-westers coming
down over our neck and ears, thick trowsers and jackets, and some with
oil-cloth suits over all.  Mittens, too, we wore on deck, but it would
not do to go aloft with them on, for it was impossible to work with
them, and, being wet and stiff, they might let a man slip overboard,
for all the hold he could get upon a rope; so, we were obliged to work
with bare hands, which, as well as our faces, were often cut with the
hail-stones, which fell thick and large.  Our ship was now all cased
with ice,--hull, spars, and standing rigging;--and the running rigging
so stiff that we could hardly bend it so as to belay it, or, still
worse, take a knot with it; and the sails nearly as stiff as sheet
iron.  One at a time, (for it was a long piece of work and required
many hands,) we furled the courses, mizen topsail, and fore-topmast
staysail, and close-reefed the fore and main topsails, and hove the
ship to under the fore, with the main hauled up by the clewlines and
buntlines, and ready to be sheeted home, if we found it necessary to
make sail to get to windward of an ice island.  A regular look-out was
then set, and kept by each watch in turn, until the morning.  It was a
tedious and anxious night.  It blew hard the whole time, and there was
an almost constant driving of either rain, hail, or snow.  In addition
to this, it was "as thick as muck," and the ice was all about us. The
captain was on deck nearly the whole night, and kept the cook in the
galley, with a roaring fire, to make coffee for him, which he took
every few hours, and once or twice gave a little to his officers; but
not a drop of anything was there for the crew. The captain, who sleeps
all the daytime, and comes and goes at night as he chooses, can have
his brandy and water in the cabin, and his hot coffee at the galley;
while Jack, who has to stand through everything, and work in wet and
cold, can have nothing to wet his lips or warm his stomach.

This was a "temperance ship," and, like too many such ships, the
temperance was all in the forecastle.  The sailor, who only takes his
one glass as it is dealt out to him, is in danger of being drunk; while
the captain, who has all under his hand, and can drink as much as he
chooses, and upon whose self-possession and cool judgment the lives of
all depend, may be trusted with any amount, to drink at his will.
Sailors will never be convinced that rum is a dangerous thing, by
taking it away from them, and giving it to the officers; nor that, that
temperance is their friend, which takes from them what they have always
had, and gives them nothing in the place of it.  By seeing it allowed
to their officers, they will not be convinced that it is taken from
them for their good; and by receiving nothing in its place, they will
not believe that it is done in kindness.  On the contrary, many of them
look upon the change as a new instrument of tyranny.  Not that they
prefer rum. I never knew a sailor, in my life, who would not prefer a
pot of hot coffee or chocolate, in a cold night, to all the rum afloat.
They all say that rum only warms them for a time; yet, if they can get
nothing better, they will miss what they have lost. The momentary
warmth and glow from drinking it; the break and change which is made in
a long, dreary watch by the mere calling all hands aft and serving of
it out; and the simply having some event to look forward to, and to
talk about; give it an importance and a use which no one can appreciate
who has not stood his watch before the mast. On my passage round Cape
Horn before, the vessel that I was in was not under temperance
articles, and grog was served out every middle and morning watch, and
after every reefing of topsails; and though I had never drank rum
before, and never intend to again, I took my allowance then at the
capstan, as the rest did, merely for the momentary warmth it gave the
system, and the change in our feelings and aspect of our duties on the
watch.  At the same time, as I have stated, there was not a man on
board who would not have pitched the rum to the dogs, (I have heard
them say so, a dozen times) for a pot of coffee or chocolate; or even
for our common beverage--"water bewitched, and tea begrudged," as it
was.[1]

The temperance reform is the best thing that ever was undertaken for
the sailor; but when the grog is taken from him, he ought to have
something in its place.  As it is now, in most vessels, it is a mere
saving to the owners; and this accounts for the sudden increase of
temperance ships, which surprised even the best friends of the cause.
If every merchant, when he struck grog from the list of the expenses of
his ship, had been obliged to substitute as much coffee, or chocolate,
as would give each man a pot-full when he came off the topsail yard, on
a stormy night;--I fear Jack might have gone to ruin on the old
road.[2]  But this is not doubling Cape Horn.  Eight hours of the
night, our watch was on deck, and during the whole of that time we kept
a bright look-out: one man on each bow, another in the bunt of the fore
yard, the third mate on the scuttle, one on each quarter, and a man
always standing by the wheel.  The chief mate was everywhere, and
commanded the ship when the captain was below.

When a large piece of ice was seen in our way, or drifting near us, the
word was passed along, and the ship's head turned one way and another;
and sometimes the yards squared or braced up.  There was little else to
do than to look out; and we had the sharpest eyes in the ship on the
forecastle.  The only variety was the monotonous voice of the look-out
forward--"Another island!"--"Ice ahead!"--"Ice on the lee bow!"--"Hard
up the helm!"--"Keep her off a little!"--"Stead-y!"

In the meantime, the wet and cold had brought my face into such a state
that I could neither eat nor sleep; and though I stood it out all
night, yet, when it became light, I was in such a state, that all hands
told me I must go below, and lie-by for a day or two, or I should be
laid up for a long time, and perhaps have the lock-jaw.

When the watch was changed I went into the steerage, and took off my
hat and comforter, and showed my face to the mate, who told me to go
below at once, and stay in my berth until the swelling went down, and
gave the cook orders to make a poultice for me, and said he would speak
to the captain.

I went below and turned-in, covering myself over with blankets and
jackets, and lay in my berth nearly twenty-four hours, half asleep and
half awake, stupid, from the dull pain.  I heard the watch called, and
the men going up and down, and sometimes a noise on deck, and a cry of
"ice," but I gave little attention to anything.  At the end of
twenty-four hours the pain went down, and I had a long sleep, which
brought me back to my proper state; yet my face was so swollen and
tender, that I was obliged to keep to my berth for two or three days
longer.  During the two days I had been below, the weather was much the
same that it had been, head winds, and snow and rain; or, if the wind
came fair, too foggy, and the ice too thick, to run.  At the end of the
third day the ice was very thick; a complete fog-bank covered the ship.
It blew a tremendous gale from the eastward, with sleet and snow, and
there was every promise of a dangerous and fatiguing night.  At dark,
the captain called all hands aft, and told them that not a man was to
leave the deck that night; that the ship was in the greatest danger;
any cake of ice might knock a hole in her, or she might run on an
island and go to pieces.  No one could tell whether she would be a ship
the next morning.  The look-outs were then set, and every man was put
in his station.  When I heard what was the state of things, I began to
put on my clothes to stand it out with the rest of them, when the mate
came below, and looking at my face, ordered me back to my berth, saying
that if we went down, we should all go down together, but if I went on
deck I might lay myself up for life.  This was the first word I had
heard from aft; for the captain had done nothing, nor inquired how I
was, since I went below.

In obedience to the mate's orders, I went back to my berth; but a more
miserable night I never wish to spend.  I never felt the curse of
sickness so keenly in my life.  If I could only have been on deck with
the rest, where something was to be done, and seen, and heard; where
there were fellow-beings for companions in duty and danger--but to be
cooped up alone in a black hole, in equal danger, but without the power
to do, was the hardest trial.  Several times, in the course of the
night, I got up, determined to go on deck; but the silence which showed
that there was nothing doing, and the knowledge that I might make
myself seriously ill, for nothing, kept me back.  It was not easy to
sleep, lying, as I did, with my head directly against the bows, which
might be dashed in by an island of ice, brought down by the very next
sea that struck her.  This was the only time I had been ill since I
left Boston, and it was the worst time it could have happened.  I felt
almost willing to bear the plagues of Egypt for the rest of the voyage,
if I could but be well and strong for that one night.  Yet it was a
dreadful night for those on deck.

A watch of eighteen hours, with wet, and cold, and constant anxiety,
nearly wore them out; and when they came below at nine o'clock for
breakfast, they almost dropped asleep on their chests, and some of them
were so stiff that they could with difficulty sit down. Not a drop of
anything had been given them during the whole time, (though the
captain, as on the night that I was on deck, had his coffee every four
hours,) except that the mate stole a potful of coffee for two men to
drink behind the galley, while he kept a look-out for the captain.
Every man had his station, and was not allowed to leave it; and nothing
happened to break the monotony of the night, except once setting the
main topsails to run clear of a large island to leeward, which they
were drifting fast upon. Some of the boys got so sleepy and stupefied,
that they actually fell asleep at their posts; and the young third
mate, whose station was the exposed one of standing on the fore
scuttle, was so stiff, when he was relieved, that he could not bend his
knees to get down. By a constant look-out, and a quick shifting of the
helm, as the islands and pieces came in sight, the ship went clear of
everything but a few small pieces, though daylight showed the ocean
covered for miles.  At daybreak it fell a dead calm, and with the sun,
the fog cleared a little, and a breeze sprung up from the westward,
which soon grew into a gale.  We had now a fair wind, daylight, and
comparatively clear weather; yet, to the surprise of every one, the
ship continued hove-to.  Why does not he run?  What is the captain
about? was asked by every one; and from questions, it soon grew into
complaints and murmurings.  When the daylight was so short, it was too
bad to lose it, and a fair wind, too, which every one had been praying
for.  As hour followed hour, and the captain showed no sign of making
sail, the crew became impatient, and there was a good deal of talking
and consultation together, on the forecastle.  They had been beaten out
with the exposure and hardship, and impatient to get out of it, and
this unaccountable delay was more than they could bear in quietness, in
their excited and restless state. Some said that the captain was
frightened,--completely cowed, by the dangers and difficulties that
surrounded us, and was afraid to make sail; while others said that in
his anxiety and suspense he had made a free use of brandy and opium,
and was unfit for his duty.  The carpenter, who was an intelligent man,
and a thorough seaman, and had great influence with the crew, came down
into the forecastle, and tried to induce the crew to go aft and ask the
captain why he did not run, or request him, in the name of all hands,
to make sail.  This appeared to be a very reasonable request, and the
crew agreed that if he did not make sail before noon, they would go
aft.  Noon came, and no sail was made.  A consultation was held again,
and it was proposed to take the ship from the captain and give the
command of her to the mate, who had been heard to say that, if he could
have his way, the ship would have been half the distance to the Cape
before night,--ice or no ice.  And so irritated and impatient had the
crew become, that even this proposition, which was open mutiny,
punishable with state prison, was entertained, and the carpenter went
to his berth, leaving it tacitly understood that something serious
would be done, if things remained as they were many hours longer.  When
the carpenter left, we talked it all over, and I gave my advice
strongly against it.  Another of the men, too, who had known something
of the kind attempted in another ship by a crew who were dissatisfied
with their captain, and which was followed with serious consequences,
was opposed to it.  S----, who soon came down, joined us, and we
determined to have nothing to do with it.  By these means, they were
soon induced to give it up, for the present, though they said they
would not lie where they were much longer without knowing the reason.

The affair remained in this state until four o'clock, when an order
came forward for all hands to come aft upon the quarter-deck. In about
ten minutes they came forward again, and the whole affair had been
blown.  The carpenter, very prematurely, and without any authority from
the crew, had sounded the mate as to whether he would take command of
the ship, and intimated an intention to displace the captain; and the
mate, as in duty bound, had told the whole to the captain, who
immediately sent for all hands aft.  Instead of violent measures, or,
at least, an outbreak of quarter-deck bravado, threats, and abuse,
which they had every reason to expect, a sense of common danger and
common suffering seemed to have tamed his spirit, and begotten
something like a humane fellow-feeling; for he received the crew in a
manner quiet, and even almost kind.  He told them what he had heard,
and said that he did not believe that they would try to do any such
thing as was intimated; that they had always been good men,--obedient,
and knew their duty, and he had no fault to find with them; and asked
them what they had to complain of--said that no one could say that he
was slow to carry sail, (which was true enough;) and that, as soon as
he thought it was safe and proper, he should make sail.  He added a few
words about their duty in their present situation, and sent them
forward, saying that he should take no further notice of the matter;
but, at the same time, told the carpenter to recollect whose power he
was in, and that if he heard another word from him he would have cause
to remember him to the day of his death.

This language of the captain had a very good effect upon the crew, and
they returned quietly to their duty.

For two days more the wind blew from the southward and eastward; or in
the short intervals when it was fair, the ice was too thick to run; yet
the weather was not so dreadfully bad, and the crew had watch and
watch.  I still remained in my berth, fast recovering, yet still not
well enough to go safely on deck.  And I should have been perfectly
useless; for, from having eaten nothing for nearly a week, except a
little rice, which I forced into my mouth the last day or two, I was as
weak as an infant.  To be sick in a forecastle is miserable indeed.  It
is the worst part of a dog's life; especially in bad weather.  The
forecastle, shut up tight to keep out the water and cold air;--the
watch either on deck, or asleep in their berths;--no one to speak
to;--the pale light of the single lamp, swinging to and fro from the
beam, so dim that one can scarcely see, much less read by it;--the
water dropping from the beams and carlines, and running down the sides;
and the forecastle so wet, and dark, and cheerless, and so lumbered up
with chests and wet clothes, that sitting up is worse than lying in the
berth!  These are some of the evils.  Fortunately, I needed no help
from any one, and no medicine; and if I had needed help, I don't know
where I should have found it.  Sailors are willing enough; but it is
true, as is often said--No one ships for nurse on board a vessel.  Our
merchant ships are always under-manned, and if one man is lost by
sickness, they cannot spare another to take care of him.  A sailor is
always presumed to be well, and if he's sick, he's a poor dog.  One has
to stand his wheel, and another his lookout, and the sooner he gets on
deck again, the better.

Accordingly, as soon as I could possibly go back to my duty, I put on
my thick clothes and boots and south-wester, and made my appearance on
deck.  Though I had been but a few days below, yet everything looked
strangely enough.  The ship was cased in ice,--decks, sides, masts,
yards, and rigging.  Two close-reefed top-sails were all the sail she
had on, and every sail and rope was frozen so stiff in its place, that
it seemed as though it would be impossible to start anything.  Reduced,
too, to her top-masts, she had altogether a most forlorn and crippled
appearance. The sun had come up brightly; the snow was swept off the
decks, and ashes thrown upon them, so that we could walk, for they had
been as slippery as glass.

It was, of course, too cold to carry on any ship's work, and we had
only to walk the deck and keep ourselves warm.  The wind was still
ahead, and the whole ocean, to the eastward, covered with islands and
field-ice.  At four bells the order was given to square away the yards;
and the man who came from the helm said that the captain had kept her
off to N. N. E.  What could this mean?  Some said that he was going to
put into Valparaiso, and winter, and others that he was going to run
out of the ice and cross the Pacific, and go home round the Cape of
Good Hope.  Soon, however, it leaked out, and we found that we were
running for the straits of Magellan. The news soon spread through the
ship, and all tongues were at work, talking about it.  No one on board
had been through the straits, but I had in my chest an account of the
passage of the ship A. J. Donelson, of New York, through those straits,
a few years before.

The account was given by the captain, and the representation was as
favorable as possible.  It was soon read by every one on board, and
various opinions pronounced.  The determination of our captain had at
least this good effect; it gave every one something to think and talk
about, made a break in our life, and diverted our minds from the
monotonous dreariness of the prospect before us. Having made a fair
wind of it, we were going off at a good rate, and leaving the thickest
of the ice behind us.  This, at least, was something.

Having been long enough below to get my hands well warmed and softened,
the first handling of the ropes was rather tough; but a few days
hardened them, and as soon as I got my mouth open wide enough to take
in a piece of salt beef and hard bread, I was all right again.

Sunday, July 10th.  Lat. 54 deg. 10', long. 79 deg. 07'.  This was our
position at noon.  The sun was out bright; the ice was all left behind,
and things had quite a cheering appearance.  We brought our wet
pea-jackets and trowsers on deck, and hung them up in the rigging, that
the breeze and the few hours of sun might dry them a little; and, by the
permission of the cook, the galley was nearly filled with stockings and
mittens, hung round to be dried.  Boots, too, were brought up; and
having got a little tar and slush from below, we gave them a thick
coat.  After dinner, all hands were turned-to, to get the anchors over
the bows, bend on the chains, etc. The fish-tackle was got up,
fish-davit rigged out, and after two or three hours of hard and cold
work, both the anchors were ready for instant use, a couple of kedges
got up, a hawser coiled away upon the fore-hatch, and the
deep-sea-lead-line overhauled and got ready.  Our spirits returned with
having something to do; and when the tackle was manned to bowse the
anchor home, notwithstanding the desolation of the scene, we struck up
"Cheerily ho!" in full chorus.  This pleased the mate, who rubbed his
hands and cried out--"That's right, my boys; never say die! That sounds
like the old crew!" and the captain came up, on hearing the song, and
said to the passenger, within hearing of the man at the wheel,--"That
sounds like a lively crew.  They'll have their song so long as there're
enough left for a chorus!"

This preparation of the cable and anchors was for the passage of the
straits; for, being very crooked, and with a variety of currents, it is
necessary to come frequently to anchor.  This was not, by any means, a
pleasant prospect, for, of all the work that a sailor is called upon to
do in cold weather, there is none so bad as working the ground-tackle.
The heavy chain cables to be hauled and pulled about the decks with
bare hands; wet hawsers, slip-ropes, and buoy-ropes to be hauled
aboard, dripping in water, which is running up your sleeves, and
freezing; clearing hawse under the bows; getting under weigh and
coming-to, at all hours of the night and day, and a constant look-out
for rocks and sands and turns of tides;--these are some of the
disagreeables of such a navigation to a common sailor.  Fair or foul,
he wants to have nothing to do with the ground-tackle between port and
port.  One of our hands, too, had unluckily fallen upon a half of an
old newspaper which contained an account of the passage, through the
straits, of a Boston brig, called, I think, the Peruvian, in which she
lost every cable and anchor she had, got aground twice, and arrived at
Valparaiso in distress.  This was set off against the account of the A.
J. Donelson, and led us to look forward with less confidence to the
passage, especially as no one on board had ever been through, and the
captain had no very perfect charts.  However, we were spared any
further experience on the point; for the next day, when we must have
been near the Cape of Pillars, which is the south-west point of the
mouth of the straits, a gale set in from the eastward, with a heavy
fog, so that we could not see half of the ship's length ahead. This, of
course, put an end to the project, for the present; for a thick fog and
a gale blowing dead ahead are not the most favorable circumstances for
the passage of difficult and dangerous straits. This weather, too,
seemed likely to last for some time, and we could not think of beating
about the mouth of the straits for a week or two, waiting for a
favorable opportunity; so we braced up on the larboard tack, put the
ship's head due south, and struck her off for Cape Horn again.


[1] The proportions of the ingredients of the tea that was made for us
(and ours, as I have before stated, was a favorable specimen of
American merchantmen) were, a pint of tea, and a pint and a half of
molasses, to about three gallons of water.

These are all boiled down together in the "coppers," and before serving
it out, the mess is stirred up with a stick, so as to give each man his
fair share of sweetening and tea-leaves.  The tea for the cabin is, of
course, made in the usual way, in a tea-pot, and drank with sugar.

[2] I do not wish these remarks, so far as they relate to the saving of
expense in the outfit, to be applied to the owners of our ship, for she
was supplied with an abundance of stores, of the best kind that are
given to seamen;, though the dispensing of them is necessarily left to
the captain, Indeed, so high was the reputation of "the employ" among
men and officers, for the character and outfit of their vessels, and
for their liberality in conducting their voyages, that when it was
known that they had a ship fitting out for a long voyage, and that
hands were to be shipped at a certain time,--a half hour before the
time, as one of the crew told me, numbers of sailors were steering down
the wharf, hopping over the barrels, like flocks of sheep.




CHAPTER XXXII

ICE AGAIN--A BEAUTIFUL AFTERNOON--CAPE HORN--"LAND HO!"--HEADING FOR
HOME

In our first attempt to double the Cape, when we came up to the
latitude of it, we were nearly seventeen hundred miles to the westward,
but, in running for the straits of Magellan, we stood so far to the
eastward, that we made our second attempt at a distance of not more
than four or five hundred miles; and we had great hopes, by this means,
to run clear of the ice; thinking that the easterly gales, which had
prevailed for a long time, would have driven it to the westward.  With
the wind about two points free, the yards braced in a little, and two
close-reefed topsails and a reefed foresail on the ship, we made great
way toward the southward and, almost every watch, when we came on deck,
the air seemed to grow colder, and the sea to run higher.  Still, we
saw no ice, and had great hopes of going clear of it altogether, when,
one afternoon, about three o'clock, while we were taking a siesta
during our watch below, "All hands!" was called in a loud and fearful
voice. "Tumble up here, men!--tumble up!--don't stop for your
clothes--before we're upon it!"  We sprang out of our berths and
hurried upon deck.

The loud, sharp voice of the captain was heard giving orders, as though
for life or death, and we ran aft to the braces, not waiting to look
ahead, for not a moment was to be lost. The helm was hard up, the after
yards shaking, and the ship in the act of wearing.

Slowly, with stiff ropes and iced rigging, we swung the yards round,
everything coming hard, and with a creaking and rending sound, like
pulling up a plank which had been frozen into the ice.  The ship wore
round fairly, the yards were steadied, and we stood off on the other
tack, leaving behind us, directly under our larboard quarter, a large
ice island, peering out of the mist, and reaching high above our tops,
while astern; and on either side of the island, large tracts of
field-ice were dimly seen, heaving and rolling in the sea.  We were now
safe, and standing to the northward; but, in a few minutes more, had it
not been for the sharp look-out of the watch, we should have been
fairly upon the ice, and left our ship's old bones adrift in the
Southern ocean.  After standing to the northward a few hours, we wore
ship, and the wind having hauled, we stood to the southward and
eastward.  All night long, a bright lookout was kept from every part of
the deck; and whenever ice was seen on the one bow or the other, the
helm was shifted and the yards braced, and by quick working of the ship
she was kept clear.  The accustomed cry of "Ice ahead!"--"Ice on the
lee bow!"--"Another island!" in the same tones, and with the same
orders following them, seemed to bring us directly back to our old
position of the week before.

During our watch on deck, which was from twelve to four, the wind came
out ahead, with a pelting storm of hail and sleet, and we lay hove-to,
under a close-reefed main topsail, the whole watch. During the next
watch it fell calm, with a drenching rain, until daybreak, when the
wind came out to the westward, and the weather cleared up, and showed
us the whole ocean, in the course which we should have steered, had it
not been for the head wind and calm, completely blocked up with ice.
Here then our progress was stopped, and we wore ship, and once more
stood to the northward and eastward; not for the straits of Magellan,
but to make another attempt to double the Cape, still farther to the
eastward; for the captain was determined to get round if perseverance
could do it; and the third time, he said, never failed.

With a fair wind we soon ran clear of the field-ice, and by noon had
only the stray islands floating far and near upon the ocean.

The sun was out bright, the sea of a deep blue, fringed with the white
foam of the waves which ran high before a strong south-wester; our
solitary ship tore on through the water, as though glad to be out of
her confinement; and the ice islands lay scattered upon the ocean here
and there, of various sizes and shapes, reflecting the bright rays of
the sun, and drifting slowly northward before the gale.  It was a
contrast to much that we had lately seen, and a spectacle not only of
beauty, but of life; for it required but little fancy to imagine these
islands to be animate masses which had broken loose from the "thrilling
regions of thick-ribbed ice," and were working their way, by wind and
current, some alone, and some in fleets, to milder climes.  No pencil
has ever yet given anything like the true effect of an iceberg.  In a
picture, they are huge, uncouth masses, stuck in the sea, while their
chief beauty and grandeur,--their slow, stately motion; the whirling of
the snow about their summits, and the fearful groaning and cracking of
their parts,--the picture cannot give.  This is the large iceberg;
while the small and distant islands, floating on the smooth sea, in the
light of a clear day, look like little floating fairy isles of sapphire.

From a north-east course we gradually hauled to the eastward, and after
sailing about two hundred miles, which brought us as near to the
western coast of Terra del Fuego as was safe, and having lost sight of
the ice altogether,--for the third time we put the ship's head to the
southward, to try the passage of the Cape. The weather continued clear
and cold, with a strong gale from the westward, and we were fast
getting up with the latitude of the Cape, with a prospect of soon being
round.  One fine afternoon, a man who had gone into the fore-top to
shift the rolling tackles, sung out, at the top of his voice, and with
evident glee,--"Sail ho!"  Neither land nor sail had we seen since
leaving San Diego; and any one who has traversed the length of a whole
ocean alone, can imagine what an excitement such an announcement
produced on board.  "Sail ho!" shouted the cook, jumping out of his
galley; "Sail ho!" shouted a man, throwing back the slide of the
scuttle, to the watch below, who were soon out of their berths and on
deck; and "Sail ho!" shouted the captain down the companion-way to the
passenger in the cabin.  Besides the pleasure of seeing a ship and
human beings in so desolate a place, it was important for us to speak a
vessel, to learn whether there was ice to the eastward, and to
ascertain the longitude; for we had no chronometer, and had been
drifting about so long that we had nearly lost our reckoning, and
opportunities for lunar observations are not frequent or sure in such a
place as Cape Horn.  For these various reasons, the excitement in our
little community was running high, and conjectures were made, and
everything thought of for which the captain would hail, when the man
aloft sung out--"Another sail, large on the weather bow!"

This was a little odd, but so much the better, and did not shake our
faith in their being sails.  At length the man in the top hailed, and
said he believed it was land, after all.  "Land in your eye!" said the
mate, who was looking through a telescope; "they are ice islands, if I
can see a hole through a ladder;" and a few moments showed the mate to
be right and all our expectations fled; and instead of what we most
wished to see, we had what we most dreaded, and what we hoped we had
seen the last of.  We soon, however, left these astern, having passed
within about two miles of them; and at sundown the horizon was clear in
all directions.

Having a fine wind, we were soon up with and passed the latitude of the
Cape, and having stood far enough to the southward to give it a wide
berth, we began to stand to the eastward, with a good prospect of being
round and steering to the northward on the other side, in a very few
days.

But ill luck seemed to have lighted upon us.  Not four hours had we
been standing on in this course, before it fell dead calm; and in half
an hour it clouded up; a few straggling blasts, with spits of snow and
sleet, came from the eastward; and in an hour more, we lay hove-to
under a close-reefed main topsail, drifting bodily off to leeward
before the fiercest storm that we had yet felt, blowing dead ahead,
from the eastward.  It seemed as though the genius of the place had
been roused at finding that we had nearly slipped through his fingers,
and had come down upon us with tenfold fury.  The sailors said that
every blast, as it shook the shrouds, and whistled through the rigging,
said to the old ship, "No, you don't!"--"No, you don't!"

For eight days we lay drifting about in this manner.
Sometimes,--generally towards noon,--it fell calm; once or twice a
round copper ball showed itself for a few moments in the place where
the sun ought to have been; and a puff or two came from the westward,
giving some hope that a fair wind had come at last.  During the first
two days, we made sail for these puffs, shaking the reefs out of the
topsails and boarding the tacks of the courses; but finding that it
only made work for us when the gale set in again, it was soon given up,
and we lay-to under our close-reefs.

We had less snow and hail than when we were farther to the westward,
but we had an abundance of what is worse to a sailor in cold
weather--drenching rain.  Snow is blinding, and very bad when coming
upon a coast, but, for genuine discomfort, give me rain with freezing
weather.  A snow-storm is exciting, and it does not wet through the
clothes (which is important to a sailor); but a constant rain there is
no escaping from.  It wets to the skin, and makes all protection vain.
We had long ago run through all our dry clothes, and as sailors have no
other way of drying them than by the sun, we had nothing to do but to
put on those which were the least wet.

At the end of each watch, when we came below, we took off our clothes
and wrung them out; two taking hold of a pair of trowsers,--one at each
end,--and jackets in the same way.  Stockings, mittens, and all, were
wrung out also and then hung up to drain and chafe dry against the
bulk-heads.  Then, feeling of all our clothes, we picked out those
which were the least wet, and put them on, so as to be ready for a
call, and turned-in, covered ourselves up with blankets, and slept
until three knocks on the scuttle and the dismal sound of "All
starbowlines ahoy!  Eight bells, there below!  Do you hear the news?"
drawled out from on deck, and the sulky answer of "Aye, aye!" from
below, sent us up again.

On deck, all was as dark as a pocket, and either a dead calm, with the
rain pouring steadily down, or, more generally, a violent gale dead
ahead, with rain pelting horizontally, and occasional variations of
hail and sleet;--decks afloat with water swashing from side to side,
and constantly wet feet; for boots could not be wrung out like drawers,
and no composition could stand the constant soaking.  In fact, wet and
cold feet are inevitable in such weather, and are not the least of
those little items which go to make up the grand total of the
discomforts of a winter passage round the Cape.  Few words were spoken
between the watches as they shifted, the wheel was relieved, the mate
took his place on the quarter-deck, the look-outs in the bows; and each
man had his narrow space to walk fore and aft in, or, rather, to swing
himself forward and back in, from one belaying pin to another,--for the
decks were too slippery with ice and water to allow of much walking.
To make a walk, which is absolutely necessary to pass away the time,
one of us hit upon the expedient of sanding the deck; and afterwards,
whenever the rain was not so violent as to wash it off, the weatherside
of the quarter-deck and a part of the waist and forecastle were
sprinkled with the sand which we had on board for holystoning; and thus
we made a good promenade, where we walked fore and aft, two and two,
hour after hour, in our long, dull, and comfortless watches.  The bells
seemed to be an hour or two apart, instead of half an hour, and an age
to elapse before the welcome sound of eight bells.  The sole object was
to make the time pass on.  Any change was sought for, which would break
the monotony of the time; and even the two hours' trick at the wheel,
which came round to each of us, in turn, once in every other watch, was
looked upon as a relief.  Even the never-failing resource of long
yarns, which eke out many a watch, seemed to have failed us now; for we
had been so long together that we had heard each other's stories told
over and over again, till we had them by heart; each one knew the whole
history of each of the others, and we were fairly and literally talked
out.  Singing and joking, we were in no humor for, and, in fact, any
sound of mirth or laughter would have struck strangely upon our ears,
and would not have been tolerated, any more than whistling, or a wind
instrument.  The last resort, that of speculating upon the future,
seemed now to fail us, for our discouraging situation, and the danger
we were really in, (as we expected every day to find ourselves drifted
back among the ice) "clapped a stopper" upon all that.  From
saying--"when we get home"--we began insensibly to alter it to--"if we
get home"--and at last the subject was dropped by a tacit consent.

In this state of things, a new light was struck out, and a new field
opened, by a change in the watch.  One of our watch was laid up for two
or three days by a bad hand, (for in cold weather the least cut or
bruise ripens into a sore,) and his place was supplied by the
carpenter.  This was a windfall, and there was quite a contest, who
should have the carpenter to walk with him. As "Chips" was a man of
some little education, and he and I had had a good deal of intercourse
with each other, he fell in with me in my walk.  He was a Fin, but
spoke English very well, and gave me long accounts of his country;--the
customs, the trade, the towns, what little he knew of the government,
(I found he was no friend of Russia), his voyages, his first arrival in
America, his marriage and courtship;--he had married a countrywoman of
his, a dress-maker, whom he met with in Boston.  I had very little to
tell him of my quiet, sedentary life at home; and, in spite of our best
efforts, which had protracted these yarns through five or six watches,
we fairly talked one another out, and I turned him over to another man
in the watch, and put myself upon my own resources.

I commenced a deliberate system of time-killing, which united some
profit with a cheering up of the heavy hours.  As soon as I came on
deck, and took my place and regular walk, I began with repeating over
to myself a string of matters which I had in my memory, in regular
order.  First, the multiplication table and the tables of weights and
measures; then the states of the union, with their capitals; the
counties of England, with their shire towns; the kings of England in
their order; and a large part of the peerage, which I committed from an
almanac that we had on board; and then the Kanaka numerals.  This
carried me through my facts, and, being repeated deliberately, with
long intervals, often eked out the two first bells.  Then came the ten
commandments; the thirty-ninth chapter of Job, and a few other passages
from Scripture.  The next in the order, that I never varied from, came
Cowper's Castaway, which was a great favorite with me; the solemn
measure and gloomy character of which, as well as the incident that it
was founded upon, made it well suited to a lonely watch at sea.  Then
his lines to Mary, his address to the jackdaw, and a short extract from
Table Talk; (I abounded in Cowper, for I happened to have a volume of
his poems in my chest;) "Ille et nefasto" from Horace, and Goethe's Erl
King.  After I had got through these, I allowed myself a more general
range among everything that I could remember, both in prose and verse.
In this way, with an occasional break by relieving the wheel, heaving
the log, and going to the scuttle-butt for a drink of water, the
longest watch was passed away; and I was so regular in my silent
recitations, that if there was no interruption by ship's duty, I could
tell very nearly the number of bells by my progress.

Our watches below were no more varied than the watch on deck.

All washing, sewing, and reading was given up; and we did nothing but
eat, sleep, and stand our watch, leading what might be called a Cape
Horn life.  The forecastle was too uncomfortable to sit up in; and
whenever we were below, we were in our berths.  To prevent the rain,
and the sea-water which broke over the bows, from washing down, we were
obliged to keep the scuttle closed, so that the forecastle was nearly
air-tight.  In this little, wet, leaky hole, we were all quartered, in
an atmosphere so bad that our lamp, which swung in the middle from the
beams, sometimes actually burned blue, with a large circle of foul air
about it.  Still I was never in better health than after three weeks of
this life.  I gained a great deal of flesh, and we all ate like horses.
At every watch, when we came below, before turning-in, the bread barge
and beef kid were overhauled.  Each man drank his quart of hot tea
night and morning; and glad enough we were to get it, for no nectar and
ambrosia were sweeter to the lazy immortals, than was a pot of hot tea,
a hard biscuit, and a slice of cold salt beef, to us after a watch on
deck.  To be sure, we were mere animals and had this life lasted a year
instead of a month we should have been little better than the ropes in
the ship.  Not a razor, nor a brush, nor a drop of water, except the
rain and the spray, had come near us all the time; for we were on an
allowance of fresh water; and who would strip and wash himself in salt
water on deck, in the snow and ice, with the thermometer at zero?

After about eight days of constant easterly gales, the wind hauled
occasionally a little to the southward, and blew hard, which, as we
were well to the southward, allowed us to brace in a little and stand
on, under all the sail we could carry. These turns lasted but a short
while, and sooner or later it set again from the old quarter; yet each
time we made something, and were gradually edging along to the
eastward.  One night, after one of these shifts of the wind, and when
all hands had been up a great part of the time, our watch was left on
deck, with the mainsail hanging in the buntlines, ready to be set if
necessary. It came on to blow worse and worse, with hail and snow
beating like so many furies upon the ship, it being as dark and thick
as night could make it.  The mainsail was blowing and slatting with a
noise like thunder, when the captain came on deck, and ordered it to be
furled.  The mate was about to call all hands, when the captain stopped
him, and said that the men would be beaten out if they were called up
so often; that as our watch must stay on deck, it might as well be
doing that as anything else.

Accordingly, we went upon the yard; and never shall I forget that piece
of work.  Our watch had been so reduced by sickness, and by some having
been left in California, that, with one man at the wheel, we had only
the third mate and three beside myself, to go aloft; so that at most,
we could only attempt to furl one yard-arm at a time.  We manned the
weather yard-arm, and set to work to make a furl of it.  Our lower
masts being short, and our yards very square, the sail had a head of
nearly fifty feet, and a short leach, made still shorter by the deep
reef which was in it, which brought the clew away out on the quarters
of the yard, and made a bunt nearly as square as the mizen royal-yard.
Beside this difficulty, the yard over which we lay was cased with ice,
the gaskets and rope of the foot and leach of the sail as stiff and
hard as a piece of suction-hose, and the sail itself about as pliable
as though it had been made of sheets of sheathing copper.  It blew a
perfect hurricane, with alternate blasts of snow, hail, and rain.  We
had to fist the sail with bare hands.  No one could trust himself to
mittens, for if he slipped, he was a gone man.  All the boats were
hoisted in on deck, and there was nothing to be lowered for him.  We
had need of every finger God had given us.  Several times we got the
sail upon the yard, but it blew away again before we could secure it.
It required men to lie over the yard to pass each turn of the gaskets,
and when they were passed, it was almost impossible to knot them so
that they would hold.  Frequently we were obliged to leave off
altogether and take to beating our hands upon the sail, to keep them
from freezing.

After some time,--which seemed forever,--we got the weather side stowed
after a fashion, and went over to leeward for another trial.

This was still worse, for the body of the sail had been blown over to
leeward, and as the yard was a-cock-bill by the lying over of the
vessel, we had to light it all up to windward.  When the yard-arms were
furled, the bunt was all adrift again, which made more work for us.  We
got all secure at last, but we had been nearly an hour and a half upon
the yard, and it seemed an age.  It just struck five bells when we went
up, and eight were struck soon after we came down.  This may seem slow
work, but considering the state of everything, and that we had only
five men to a sail with just half as many square yards of canvas in it
as the mainsail of the Independence, sixty-gun ship, which musters
seven hundred men at her quarters, it is not wonderful that we were no
quicker about it. We were glad enough to get on deck, and still more,
to go below. The oldest sailor in the watch said, as he went down,--"I
shall never forget that main yard;--it beats all my going a fishing.
Fun is fun, but furling one yard-arm of a course, at a time, off Cape
Horn, is no better than man-killing."

During the greater part of the next two days, the wind was pretty
steady from the southward.  We had evidently made great progress, and
had good hope of being soon up with the Cape, if we were not there
already.  We could put but little confidence in our reckoning, as there
had been no opportunities for an observation, and we had drifted too
much to allow of our dead reckoning being anywhere near the mark.  If
it would clear off enough to give a chance for an observation, or if we
could make land, we should know where we were; and upon these, and the
chances of falling in with a sail from the eastward, we depended almost
entirely.

Friday, July 22d.  This day we had a steady gale from the southward,
and stood on under close sail, with the yards eased a little by the
weather braces, the clouds lifting a little, and showing signs of
breaking away.  In the afternoon, I was below with Mr. H----, the third
mate, and two others, filling the bread locker in the steerage from the
casks, when a bright gleam of sunshine broke out and shone down the
companion-way and through the skylight, lighting up everything below,
and sending a warm glow through the heart of every one.  It was a sight
we had not seen for weeks,--an omen, a god-send.  Even the roughest and
hardest face acknowledged its influence.  Just at that moment we heard
a loud shout from all parts of the deck, and the mate called out down
the companion-way to the captain, who was sitting in the cabin.  What
he said, we could not distinguish, but the captain kicked over his
chair, and was on deck at one jump.  We could not tell what it was;
and, anxious as we were to know, the discipline of the ship would not
allow of our leaving our places.  Yet, as we were not called, we knew
there was no danger.  We hurried to get through with our job, when,
seeing the steward's black face peering out of the pantry, Mr. H----
hailed him, to know what was the matter.  "Lan' o, to be sure, sir!  No
you hear 'em sing out, 'Lan' o?'  De cap'em say 'im Cape Horn!"

This gave us a new start, and we were soon through our work, and on
deck; and there lay the land, fair upon the larboard beam, and slowly
edging away upon the quarter.  All hands were busy looking at it--the
captain and mates from the quarter-deck, the cook from his galley, and
the sailors from the forecastle; and even Mr. N., the passenger, who
had kept in his shell for nearly a month, and hardly been seen by
anybody, and who we had almost forgotten was on board, came out like a
butterfly, and was hopping round as bright as a bird.

The land was the island of Staten Land, and, just to the eastward of
Cape Horn; and a more desolate-looking spot I never wish to set eyes
upon;--bare, broken, and girt with rocks and ice, with here and there,
between the rocks and broken hillocks, a little stunted vegetation of
shrubs.  It was a place well suited to stand at the junction of the two
oceans, beyond the reach of human cultivation, and encounter the blasts
and snows of a perpetual winter.  Yet, dismal as it was, it was a
pleasant sight to us; not only as being the first land we had seen, but
because it told us that we had passed the Cape,--were in the
Atlantic,--and that, with twenty-four hours of this breeze, might bid
defiance to the Southern Ocean.  It told us, too, our latitude and
longitude better than any observation; and the captain now knew where
we were, as well as if we were off the end of Long wharf.

In the general joy, Mr. N. said he should like to go ashore upon the
island and examine a spot which probably no human being had ever set
foot upon; but the captain intimated that he would see the
island--specimens and all,--in--another place, before he would get out
a boat or delay the ship one moment for him.

We left the land gradually astern; and at sundown had the Atlantic
Ocean clear before us.




CHAPTER XXXIII

CRACKING ON--PROGRESS HOMEWARD--A PLEASANT SUNDAY--A FINE SIGHT--BY-PLAY

It is usual, in voyages round the Cape from the Pacific, to keep to the
eastward of the Falkland Islands; but as it had now set in a strong,
steady, and clear south-wester, with every prospect of its lasting, and
we had had enough of high latitudes, the captain determined to stand
immediately to the northward, running inside the Falkland Islands.
Accordingly, when the wheel was relieved at eight o'clock, the order
was given to keep her due north, and all hands were turned up to square
away the yards and make sail. In a moment, the news ran through the
ship that the captain was keeping her off, with her nose straight for
Boston, and Cape Horn over her taffrail.  It was a moment of
enthusiasm.  Every one was on the alert, and even the two sick men
turned out to lend a hand at the halyards.  The wind was now due
south-west, and blowing a gale to which a vessel close hauled could
have shown no more than a single close-reefed sail; but as we were
going before it, we could carry on.

Accordingly, hands were sent aloft, and a reef shaken out of the
top-sails, and the reefed foresail set.  When we came to masthead the
topsail yards, with all hands at the halyards, we struck up "Cheerily,
men," with a chorus which might have been heard half-way to Staten
Land.  Under her increased sail, the ship drove on through the water.
Yet she could bear it well; and the captain sang out from the
quarter-deck--"Another reef out of that fore-topsail, and give it to
her!"  Two hands sprang aloft; the frozen reef-points and earings were
cast adrift, the halyards manned, and the sail gave out her increased
canvas to the gale.  All hands were kept on deck to watch the effect of
the change.  It was as much as she could well carry, and with a heavy
sea astern, it took two men at the wheel to steer her.  She flung the
foam from her bows; the spray breaking aft as far as the gangway.  She
was going at a prodigious rate.

Still, everything held.  Preventer braces were reeved and hauled
taut; tackles got upon the backstays; and each thing done to keep all
snug and strong.  The captain walked the deck at a rapid stride, looked
aloft at the sails, and then to windward; the mate stood in the
gangway, rubbing his hands, and talking aloud to the ship--"Hurrah, old
bucket! the Boston girls have got hold of the tow-rope!" and the like;
and we were on the forecastle, looking to see how the spars stood it,
and guessing the rate at which she was going,--when the captain called
out--"Mr. Brown, get up the topmast studding-sail!  What she can't
carry she may drag!" The mate looked a moment; but he would let no one
be before him in daring.

He sprang forward--"Hurrah, men! rig out the topmast studding-sail
boom!  Lay aloft, and I'll send the rigging up to you!"--We sprang
aloft into the top; lowered a girt-line down, by which we hauled up the
rigging; rove the tacks and halyards; ran out the boom and lashed it
fast, and sent down the lower halyards, as a preventer. It was a clear
starlight night, cold and blowing; but everybody worked with a will.
Some, indeed, looked as though they thought the "old man" was mad, but
no one said a word.  We had had a new topmast studding-sail made with a
reef in it,--a thing hardly ever heard of, and which the sailors had
ridiculed a good deal, saying that when it was time to reef a
studding-sail, it was time to take it in.  But we found a use for it
now; for, there being a reef in the topsail, the studding-sail could
not be set without one in it also.  To be sure, a studding-sail with
reefed topsails was rather a new thing; yet there was some reason in
it, for if we carried that away, we should lose only a sail and a boom;
but a whole topsail might have carried away the mast and all.

While we were aloft, the sail had been got out, bent to the yard,
reefed, and ready for hoisting.  Waiting for a good opportunity, the
halyards were manned and the yard hoisted fairly up to the block; but
when the mate came to shake the catspaw out of the downhaul, and we
began to boom-end the sail, it shook the ship to her centre.  The boom
buckled up and bent like a whip-stick, and we looked every moment to
see something go; but, being of the short, tough upland spruce, it bent
like whalebone, and nothing could break it.  The carpenter said it was
the best stick he had ever seen.  The strength of all hands soon
brought the tack to the boom-end, and the sheet was trimmed down, and
the preventer and the weather brace hauled taut to take off the
strain. Every rope-yarn seemed stretched to the utmost, and every
thread of canvas; and with this sail added to her, the ship sprang
through the water like a thing possessed.  The sail being nearly all
forward, it lifted her out of the water, and she seemed actually to
jump from sea to sea.  From the time her keel was laid, she had never
been so driven; and had it been life or death with every one of us, she
could not have borne another stitch of canvas.

Finding that she would bear the sail, the hands were sent below, and
our watch remained on deck.  Two men at the wheel had as much as they
could do to keep her within three points of her course, for she steered
as wild as a young colt.  The mate walked the deck, looking at the
sails, and then over the side to see the foam fly by her, slapping his
hands upon his thighs and talking to the ship--"Hurrah, you jade,
you've got the scent!--you know where you're going!"  And when she
leaped over the seas, and almost out of the water, and trembled to her
very keel, the spars and masts snapping and creaking,--"There she
goes!--There she goes,--handsomely!--as long as she cracks she
holds!"--while we stood with the rigging laid down fair for letting go,
and ready to take in sail and clear away, if anything went.  At four
bells we hove the log, and she was going eleven knots fairly; and had
it not been for the sea from aft which sent the ship home, and threw
her continually off her course, the log would have shown her to have
been going much faster.  I went to the wheel with a young fellow from
the Kennebec, who was a good helmsman; and for two hours we had our
hands full.  A few minutes showed us that our monkey-jackets must come
off; and, cold as it was, we stood in our shirt-sleeves, in a
perspiration; and were glad enough to have it eight bells, and the
wheel relieved.  We turned-in and slept as well as we could, though the
sea made a constant roar under her bows, and washed over the forecastle
like a small cataract.

At four o'clock, we were called again.  The same sail was still on the
vessel, and the gale, if there was any change, had increased a little.
No attempt was made to take the studding-sail in; and, indeed, it was
too late now.  If we had started anything toward taking it in, either
tack or halyards, it would have blown to pieces, and carried something
away with it.  The only way now was to let everything stand, and if the
gale went down, well and good; if not, something must go--the weakest
stick or rope first--and then we could get it in.  For more than an
hour she was driven on at such a rate that she seemed actually to crowd
the sea into a heap before her; and the water poured over the spritsail
yard as it would over a dam.  Toward daybreak the gale abated a little,
and she was just beginning to go more easily along, relieved of the
pressure, when Mr. Brown, determined to give her no respite, and
depending upon the wind's subsiding as the sun rose, told us to get
along the lower studding-sail.  This was an immense sail, and held wind
enough to last a Dutchman a week,--hove-to.  It was soon ready, the
boom topped up, preventer guys rove, and the idlers called up to man
the halyards; yet such was still the force of the gale, that we were
nearly an hour setting the sail; carried away the outhaul in doing it,
and came very near snapping off the swinging boom.  No sooner was it
set than the ship tore on again like one that was mad, and began to
steer as wild as a hawk.  The men at the wheel were puffing and blowing
at their work, and the helm was going hard up and hard down,
constantly.  Add to this, the gale did not lessen as the day came on,
but the sun rose in clouds. A sudden lurch threw the man from the
weather wheel across the deck and against the side.  The mate sprang to
the wheel, and the man, regaining his feet, seized the spokes, and they
hove the wheel up just in time to save her from broaching to; though
nearly half the studding-sail went under water; and as she came to, the
boom stood up at an angle of forty five degrees.  She had evidently
more on her than she could bear; yet it was in vain to try to take it
in--the clewline was not strong enough; and they were thinking of
cutting away, when another wide yaw and a come-to, snapped the guys,
and the swinging boom came in, with a crash, against the lower rigging.
The outhaul block gave way, and the topmast studding-sail boom bent in
a manner which I never before supposed a stick could bend.  I had my
eye on it when the guys parted, and it made one spring and buckled up
so as to form nearly a half circle, and sprang out again to its shape.

The clewline gave way at the first pull; the cleat to which the
halyards were belayed was wrenched off, and the sail blew round the
spritsail yards and head guys, which gave us a bad job to get it in.

A half hour served to clear all away, and she was suffered to drive on
with her topmast studding-sail set, it being as much as she could
stagger under.

During all this day and the next night, we went on under the same sail,
the gale blowing with undiminished force; two men at the wheel all the
time; watch and watch, and nothing to do but to steer and look out for
the ship, and be blown along;--until the noon of the next day--

Sunday, July 24th, when we were in latitude 50 deg. 27' S., longitude 62
deg. 13' W., having made four degrees of latitude in the last twenty-four
hours.  Being now to northward of the Falkland Islands, the ship was
kept off, north-east, for the equator; and with her head for the
equator, and Cape Horn over her taffrail, she went gloriously on; every
heave of the sea leaving the Cape astern, and every hour bringing us
nearer to home, and to warm weather. Many a time, when blocked up in
the ice, with everything dismal and discouraging about us, had we
said,--if we were only fairly round, and standing north on the other
side, we should ask for no more:--and now we had it all, with a clear
sea, and as much wind as a sailor could pray for.  If the best part of
the voyage is the last part, surely we had all now that we could wish.
Every one was in the highest spirits, and the ship seemed as glad as
any of us at getting out of her confinement.  At each change of the
watch, those coming on deck asked those going below--"How does she go
along?" and got for answer, the rate, and the customary addition--"Aye!
and the Boston girls have had hold of the tow-rope all the watch, and
can't haul half the slack in!" Each day the sun rose higher in the
horizon, and the nights grew shorter; and at coming on deck each
morning, there was a sensible change in the temperature.  The ice, too,
began to melt from off the rigging and spars, and, except a little
which remained in the tops and round the hounds of the lower masts, was
soon gone.  As we left the gale behind us, the reefs were shaken out of
the topsails, and sail made as fast as she could bear it; and every
time all hands were sent to the halyards, a song was called for, and we
hoisted away with a will.

Sail after sail was added, as we drew into fine weather; and in one
week after leaving Cape Horn, the long topgallant masts were got up,
topgallant and royal yards crossed, and the ship restored to her fair
proportions.

The Southern Cross we saw no more after the first night; the Magellan
Clouds settled lower and lower in the horizon; and so great was our
change of latitude each succeeding night, that we sank some
constellation in the south, and raised another in the northern horizon.

Sunday, July 31st.  At noon we were in lat. 36 deg. 41' S., long. 38 deg.
08' W.; having traversed the distance of two thousand miles, allowing for
changes of course, in nine days.  A thousand miles in four days and a
half!--This is equal to steam.

Soon after eight o'clock, the appearance of the ship gave evidence that
this was the first Sunday we had yet had in fine weather. As the sun
came up clear, with the promise of a fair, warm day, and, as usual on
Sunday, there was no work going on, all hands turned-to upon clearing
out the forecastle.  The wet and soiled clothes which had accumulated
there during the past month, were brought up on deck; the chests moved;
brooms, buckets of water, swabs, scrubbing-brushes, and scrapers
carried down, and applied, until the forecastle floor was as white as
chalk, and everything neat and in order.  The bedding from the berths
was then spread on deck, and dried, and aired; the deck-tub filled with
water; and a grand washing begun of all the clothes which were brought
up. Shirts, frocks, drawers, trowsers, jackets, stockings, of every
shape and color, wet and dirty--many of them mouldy from having been
lying a long time wet in a foul corner--these were all washed and
scrubbed out, and finally towed overboard for half an hour; and then
made fast in the rigging to dry.  Wet boots and shoes were spread out
to dry in sunny places on deck; and the whole ship looked like a back
yard on a washing day.  After we had done with our clothes, we began
upon our own persons.  A little fresh water, which we had saved from
our allowance, was put in buckets, and with soap and towels, we had
what sailors call a fresh-water wash.  The same bucket, to be sure, had
to go through several hands, and was spoken for by one after another,
but as we rinsed off in salt water, pure from the ocean, and the fresh
was used only to start the accumulated grime and blackness of five
weeks, it was held of little consequence.

We soaped down and scrubbed one another with towels and pieces of
canvas, stripping to it; and then, getting into the head, threw buckets
of water upon each other.  After this, came shaving, and combing, and
brushing; and when, having spent the first part of the day in this way,
we sat down on the forecastle, in the afternoon, with clean duck
trowsers, and shirts on, washed, shaved, and combed, and looking a
dozen shades lighter for it, reading, sewing, and talking at our ease,
with a clear sky and warm sun over our heads, a steady breeze over the
larboard quarter, studding-sails out alow and aloft, and all the flying
kites aboard;--we felt that we had got back into the pleasantest part
of a sailor's life.  At sundown the clothes were all taken down from
the rigging--clean and dry--and stowed neatly away in our chests; and
our southwesters, thick boots, guernsey frocks, and other
accompaniments of bad weather, put out of the way, we hoped, for the
rest of the voyage, as we expected to come upon the coast early in the
autumn.

Notwithstanding all that has been said about the beauty of a ship under
full sail, there are very few who have ever seen a ship, literally,
under all her sail.  A ship coming in or going out of port, with her
ordinary sails, and perhaps two of three studding-sails, is commonly
said to be under full sail; but a ship never has all her sail upon her,
except when she has a light, steady breeze, very nearly, but not quite,
dead aft, and so regular that it can be trusted, and is likely to last
for some time.  Then, with all her sails, light and heavy, and
studding-sails, on each side, alow and aloft, she is the most glorious
moving object in the world.  Such a sight, very few, even some who have
been at sea a great deal, have ever beheld; for from the deck of your
own vessel you cannot see her, as you would a separate object.

One night, while we were in these tropics, I went out to the end of the
flying-jib-boom, upon some duty, and, having finished it, turned round,
and lay over the boom for a long time, admiring the beauty of the sight
before me.  Being so far out from the deck, I could look at the ship,
as at a separate vessel;--and there rose up from the water, supported
only by the small black hull, a pyramid of canvas, spreading out far
beyond the hull, and towering up almost, as it seemed in the indistinct
night air, to the clouds.  The sea was as still as an inland lake; the
light trade-wind was gently and steadily breathing from astern; the
dark blue sky was studded with the tropical stars; there was no sound
but the rippling of the water under the stem; and the sails were spread
out, wide and high;--the two lower studding-sails stretching, on each
side, far beyond the deck; the topmast studding-sails, like wings to
the topsails; the top-gallant studding-sails spreading fearlessly out
above them; still higher, the two royal studding-sails, looking like
two kites flying from the same string; and, highest of all, the little
skysail, the apex of the pyramid, seeming actually to touch the stars,
and to be out of reach of human hand.  So quiet, too, was the sea, and
so steady the breeze, that if these sails had been sculptured marble,
they could not have been more motionless.  Not a ripple upon the
surface of the canvas; not even a quivering of the extreme edges of the
sail--so perfectly were they distended by the breeze. I was so lost in
the sight, that I forgot the presence of the man who came out with me,
until he said, (for he, too, rough old man-of-war's-man as he was, had
been gazing at the show,) half to himself, still looking at the marble
sails--"How quietly they do their work!"

The fine weather brought work with it; as the ship was to be put in
order for coming into port.  This may give a landsman some notion of
what is done on board ship.--All the first part of a passage is spent
in getting a ship ready for sea, and the last part in getting her ready
for port.  She is, as sailors say, like a lady's watch, always out of
repair.  The new, strong sails, which we had up off Cape Horn, were to
be sent down, and the old set, which were still serviceable in fine
weather, to be bent in their place; all the rigging to be set up, fore
and aft; the masts stayed; the standing rigging to be tarred down;
lower and topmast rigging rattled down, fore and aft; the ship scraped,
inside and out, and painted; decks varnished; new and neat knots,
seizings and coverings to be fitted; and every part put in order, to
look well to the owner's eye, on coming into Boston.  This, of course,
was a long matter; and all hands were kept on deck at work for the
whole of each day, during the rest of the voyage.  Sailors call this
hard usage; but the ship must be in crack order, and "we're homeward
bound" was the answer to everything.

We went on for several days, employed in this way, nothing remarkable
occurring; and, at the latter part of the week, fell in with the
south-east trades, blowing about east-south-east, which brought them
nearly two points abaft our beam.  These blew strong and steady, so
that we hardly started a rope, until we were beyond their latitude.
The first day of "all hands," one of those little incidents occurred,
which are nothing in themselves, but are great matters in the eyes of a
ship's company, as they serve to break the monotony of a voyage, and
afford conversation to the crew for days afterwards.  These small
matters, too, are often interesting, as they show the customs and state
of feeling on shipboard.

In merchant vessels, the captain gives his orders as to the ship's
work, to the mate, in a general way, and leaves the execution of them,
with the particular ordering, to him.  This has become so fixed a
custom, that it is like a law, and is never infringed upon by a wise
master, unless his mate is no seaman; in which case, the captain must
often oversee things for himself.  This, however, could not be said of
our chief mate; and he was very jealous of any encroachment upon the
borders of his authority.

On Monday morning, the captain told him to stay the fore-topmast plumb.
He accordingly came forward, turned all hands to, with tackles on the
stays and back-stays, coming up with the seizings, hauling here,
belaying there, and full of business, standing between the knightheads
to sight the mast,--when the captain came forward, and also began to
give orders.  This made confusion, and the mate, finding that he was
all aback, left his place and went aft, saying to the captain--

"If you come forward, sir, I'll go aft.  One is enough on the
forecastle."

This produced a reply, and another fierce answer; and the words flew,
fists were doubled up, and things looked threateningly.

"I'm master of this ship."

"Yes, sir, and I'm mate of her, and know my place!  My place is
forward, and yours is aft!"

"My place is where I choose!  I command the whole ship; and you are
mate only so long as I choose!"

"Say the word, Capt. T., and I'm done!  I can do a man's work aboard!
I didn't come through the cabin windows!  If I'm not mate, I can be
man," etc., etc.

This was all fun for us, who stood by, winking at each other, and
enjoying the contest between the higher powers.  The captain took the
mate aft; and they had a long talk, which ended in the mate's returning
to his duty.  The captain had broken through a custom, which is a part
of the common-law of a ship, and without reason; for he knew that his
mate was a sailor, and needed no help from him; and the mate was
excusable for being angry.  Yet he was wrong, and the captain right.
Whatever the captain does is right, ipso facto, and any opposition to
it is wrong, on board ship; and every officer and man knows this when
he signs the ship's articles.

It is a part of the contract.  Yet there has grown up in merchant
vessels a series of customs, which have become a well understood
system, and have almost the force of prescriptive law.  To be sure, all
power is in the captain, and the officers hold their authority only
during his will; and the men are liable to be called upon for any
service; yet, by breaking in upon these usages, many difficulties have
occurred on board ship, and even come into courts of justice, which are
perfectly unintelligible to any one not acquainted with the universal
nature and force of these customs.  Many a provocation has been
offered, and a system of petty oppression pursued towards men, the
force and meaning of which would appear as nothing to strangers, and
doubtless do appear so to many "'long-shore" juries and judges.

The next little diversion, was a battle on the forecastle one
afternoon, between the mate and the steward.  They had been on bad
terms the whole voyage; and had threatened a rupture several times.
This afternoon, the mate asked him for a tumbler of water, and he
refused to get it for him, saying that he waited upon nobody but the
captain: and here he had the custom on his side. But in answering, he
left off "the handle to the mate's name." This enraged the mate, who
called him a "black soger;" and at it they went, clenching, striking,
and rolling over and over; while we stood by, looking on, and enjoying
the fun.  The <DW54> tried to butt him, but the mate got him down, and
held him, the steward singing out, "Let me go, Mr. Brown, or there'll
be blood spilt!" In the midst of this, the captain came on deck,
separated them, took the steward aft, and gave him half a dozen with a
rope's end.

The steward tried to justify himself; but he had been heard to talk of
spilling blood, and that was enough to earn him his flogging; and the
captain did not choose to inquire any further.




CHAPTER XXXIV

NARROW ESCAPES--THE EQUATOR--TROPICAL SQUALLS--A THUNDER STORM

The same day, I met with one of those narrow escapes, which are so
often happening in a sailor's life.  I had been aloft nearly all the
afternoon, at work, standing for as much as an hour on the fore
top-gallant yard, which was hoisted up, and hung only by the tie; when,
having got through my work, I balled up my yarns, took my serving-board
in my hand, laid hold deliberately of the top-gallant rigging, took one
foot from the yard, and was just lifting the other, when the tie
parted, and down the yard fell. I was safe, by my hold upon the
rigging, but it made my heart beat quick.  Had the tie parted one
instant sooner, or had I stood an instant longer on the yard, I should
inevitably have been thrown violently from the height of ninety or a
hundred feet, overboard; or, what is worse, upon the deck.  However, "a
miss is as good as a mile;" a saying which sailors very often have
occasion to use.  An escape is always a joke on board ship.  A man
would be ridiculed who should make a serious matter of it.  A sailor
knows too well that his life hangs upon a thread, to wish to be always
reminded of it; so, if a man has an escape, he keeps it to himself, or
makes a joke of it.  I have often known a man's life to be saved by an
instant of time, or by the merest chance,--the swinging of a rope,--and
no notice taken of it.  One of our boys, when off Cape Horn, reefing
topsails of a dark night, and when there were no boats to be lowered
away, and where, if a man fell overboard he must be left behind,--lost
his hold of the reef-point, slipped from the foot-rope, and would have
been in the water in a moment, when the man who was next to him on the
yard caught him by the collar of his jacket, and hauled him up upon the
yard, with--"Hold on, another time, you young monkey, and be d----d to
you!"--and that was all that was heard about it.

Sunday, August 7th.  Lat. 25 deg. 59' S., long. 27 deg. 0' W.  Spoke the
English bark Mary-Catherine, from Bahia, bound to Calcutta. This was
the first sail we had fallen in with, and the first time we had seen a
human form or heard the human voice, except of our own number, for
nearly a hundred days.  The very yo-ho-ing of the sailors at the ropes
sounded sociably upon the ear.  She was an old, damaged-looking craft,
with a high poop and top-gallant forecastle, and sawed off square, stem
and stern, like a true English "tea-wagon," and with a run like a
sugar-box.  She had studding-sails out alow and aloft, with a light but
steady breeze, and her captain said he could not get more than four
knots out of her and thought he should have a long passage.  We were
going six on an easy bowline.

The next day, about three P. M., passed a large corvette-built ship,
close upon the wind, with royals and skysails set fore and aft, under
English colors.  She was standing south-by-east, probably bound round
Cape Horn.  She had men in her tops, and black mast-heads; heavily
sparred, with sails cut to a t, and other marks of a man-of-war.  She
sailed well, and presented a fine appearance; the proud,
aristocratic-looking banner of St. George, the cross in a blood-red
field, waving from the mizen.  We probably were as fine a sight, with
our studding-sails spread far out beyond the ship on either side, and
rising in a pyramid to royal studding-sails and sky-sails, burying the
hull in canvas, and looking like what the whale-men on the Banks, under
their stump top-gallant masts, call "a Cape Horn-er under a cloud of
sail."

Friday, August 12th.  At daylight made the island of Trinidad, situated
in lat. 20 deg. 28' S., long. 29 deg. 08' W. At twelve M., it bore N. W.
1/2 N., distant twenty-seven miles.  It was a beautiful day, the sea
hardly ruffled by the light trades, and the island looking like a small
blue mound rising from a field of glass.

Such a fair and peaceful-looking spot is said to have been, for a long
time, the resort of a band of pirates, who ravaged the tropical seas.

Thursday, August 18th.  At three P. M., made the island of Fernando
Naronha, lying in lat. 3 deg. 55' S., long. 32 deg. 35' W.; and between
twelve o'clock Friday night and one o'clock Saturday morning, crossed the
equator, for the fourth time since leaving Boston, in long. 35 deg. W.;
having been twenty-seven days from Staten Land--a distance, by the
courses we had made, of more than four thousand miles.

We were now to the northward of the line, and every day added to our
latitude.  The Magellan Clouds, the last sign of South latitude, were
sunk in the horizon, and the north star, the Great Bear, and the
familiar signs of northern latitudes, were rising in the heavens.

Next to seeing land, there is no sight which makes one realize more
that he is drawing near home, than to see the same heavens, under which
he was born, shining at night over his head.  The weather was extremely
hot, with the usual tropical alternations of a scorching sun and
squalls of rain; yet not a word was said in complaint of the heat, for
we all remembered that only three or four weeks before we would have
given nearly our all to have been where we now were.  We had plenty of
water, too, which we caught by spreading an awning, with shot thrown in
to make hollows.  These rain squalls came up in the manner usual
between the tropics.--A clear sky; burning, vertical sun; work going
lazily on, and men about decks with nothing but duck trowsers, checked
shirts, and straw hats; the ship moving as lazily through the water;
the man at the helm resting against the wheel, with his hat drawn over
his eyes; the captain below, taking an afternoon nap; the passenger
leaning over the taffrail, watching a dolphin following slowly in our
wake; the sailmaker mending an old topsail on the lee side of the
quarter-deck; the carpenter working at his bench, in the waist; the
boys making sinnet; the spun-yarn winch whizzing round and round, and
the men walking slowly fore and aft with their yarns.--A cloud rises to
windward, looking a little black; the sky-sails are brailed down; the
captain puts his head out of the companion-way, looks at the cloud,
comes up, and begins to walk the deck.--The cloud spreads and comes
on;--the tub of yarns, the sail, and other matters, are thrown below,
and the sky-light and booby-hatch put on, and the slide drawn over the
forecastle.--"Stand by the royal halyards;"--the man at the wheel keeps
a good weather helm, so as not to be taken aback.  The squall strikes
her.  If it is light, the royal yards are clewed down, and the ship
keeps on her way; but if the squall takes strong hold, the royals are
clewed up, fore and aft; light hands lay aloft and furl them;
top-gallant yards clewed down, flying-jib hauled down, and the ship
kept off before it,--the man at the helm laying out his strength to
heave the wheel up to windward.  At the same time a drenching rain,
which soaks one through in an instant.  Yet no one puts on a jacket or
cap; for if it is only warm, a sailor does not mind a ducking; and the
sun will soon be out again.  As soon as the force of the squall has
passed, though to a common eye the ship would seem to be in the midst
of it,--"Keep her up to her course, again!"--"Keep her up, sir,"
(answer);--"Hoist away the top-gallant yards!"--"Run up the flying
jib!"--"Lay aloft, you boys, and loose the royals!"--and all sail is on
her again before she is fairly out of the squall; and she is going on
in her course.  The sun comes out once more, hotter than ever, dries up
the decks and the sailors' clothes; the hatches are taken off; the sail
got up and spread on the quarter-deck; spun-yarn winch set a whirling
again; rigging coiled up; captain goes below; and every sign of an
interruption is removed.

These scenes, with occasional dead calms, lasting for hours, and
sometimes for days, are fair specimens of the Atlantic tropics. The
nights were fine; and as we had all hands all day, the watch were
allowed to sleep on deck at night, except the man at the wheel, and one
look-out on the forecastle.  This was not so much expressly allowed, as
winked at.  We could do it if we did not ask leave.  If the look-out
was caught napping, the whole watch was kept awake.

We made the most of this permission, and stowed ourselves away upon the
rigging, under the weather rail, on the spars, under the windlass, and
in all the snug corners; and frequently slept out the watch, unless we
had a wheel or a look-out.  And we were glad enough to get this rest;
for under the "all hands" system, out of every other thirty-six hours,
we had only four below; and even an hour's sleep was a gain not to be
neglected.  One would have thought so, to have seen our watch, some
nights, sleeping through a heavy rain.  And often have we come on deck,
and finding a dead calm and a light, steady rain, and determined not to
lose our sleep, have laid a coil of rigging down so as to keep us out
of the water which was washing about decks, and stowed ourselves away
upon it, covering a jacket over us, and slept as soundly as a Dutchman
between two feather beds.

For a week or ten days after crossing the line, we had the usual
variety of calms, squalls, head winds, and fair winds;--at one time
braced sharp upon the wind, with a taut bowline, and in an hour
after, slipping quietly along, with a light breeze over the taffrail,
and studding-sails out on both sides;--until we fell in with the
north-east trade-winds; which we did on the afternoon of

Sunday, August 28th, in lat. 12 deg. N. The trade-wind clouds had been in
sight for a day or two previously, and we expected to take them every
hour.  The light southerly breeze, which had been blowing languidly
during the first part of the day, died away toward noon, and in its
place came puffs from the north-east, which caused us to take our
studding-sails in and brace up; and in a couple of hours more, we were
bowling gloriously along, dashing the spray far ahead and to leeward,
with the cool, steady north-east trades, freshening up the sea, and
giving us as much as we could carry our royals to.  These winds blew
strong and steady, keeping us generally upon a bowline, as our course
was about north-north-west; and sometimes, as they veered a little to
the eastward, giving us a chance at a main top-gallant studding-sail;
and sending us well to the northward, until--

Sunday, Sept. 4th, when they left us, in lat. 22 deg. N., long. 51 deg.
W., directly under the tropic of Cancer.

For several days we lay "humbugging about" in the Horse latitudes, with
all sorts of winds and weather, and occasionally, as we were in the
latitude of the West Indies--a thunder storm.  It was hurricane month,
too, and we were just in the track of the tremendous hurricane of 1830,
which swept the North Atlantic, destroying almost everything before it.
The first night after the tradewinds left us, while we were in the
latitude of the island of Cuba, we had a specimen of a true tropical
thunder storm.  A light breeze had been blowing directly from aft
during the first part of the night which gradually died away, and
before midnight it was dead calm, and a heavy black cloud had shrouded
the whole sky.  When our watch came on deck at twelve o'clock, it was
as black as Erebus; the studding-sails were all taken in, and the
royals furled; not a breath was stirring; the sails hung heavy and
motionless from the yards; and the perfect stillness, and the darkness,
which was almost palpable, were truly appalling.  Not a word was
spoken, but every one stood as though waiting for something to happen.
In a few minutes the mate came forward; and in a low tone, which was
almost a whisper, told us to haul down the jib.  The fore and mizen
top-gallant sails were taken in, in the same silent manner; and we lay
motionless upon the water, with an uneasy expectation, which, from the
long suspense, became actually painful.  We could hear the captain
walking the deck, but it was too dark to see anything more than one's
hand before the face.  Soon the mate came forward again, and gave an
order, in a low tone, to clew up the main top-gallant sail; and so
infectious was the awe and silence, that the clewlines and buntlines
were hauled up without any of the customary singing out at the ropes.
An English lad and myself went up to furl it; and we had just got the
bunt up, when the mate called out to us, something, we did not hear
what,--but supposing it to be an order to bear-a-hand, we hurried, and
made all fast, and came down, feeling our way among the rigging.  When
we got down we found all hands looking aloft, and there, directly over
where we had been standing, upon the main top-gallant-mast-head, was a
ball of light, which the sailors name a corposant (corpus sancti), and
which the mate had called out to us to look at.  They were all watching
it carefully, for sailors have a notion that if the corposant rises in
the rigging, it is a sign of fair weather, but if it comes lower down,
there will be a storm.  Unfortunately, as an omen, it came down, and
showed itself on the top-gallant yard-arm.  We were off the yard in
good season, for it is held a fatal sign to have the pale light of the
corposant thrown upon one's face.  As it was, the English lad did not
feel comfortably at having had it so near him, and directly over his
head.  In a few minutes it disappeared, and showed itself again on the
fore top-gallant yard; and after playing about for some time,
disappeared again; when the man on the forecastle pointed to it upon
the flying-jib-boom-end.  But our attention was drawn from watching
this, by the falling of some drops of rain and by a perceptible
increase of the darkness, which seemed suddenly to add a new shade of
blackness to the night.  In a few minutes, low, grumbling thunder was
heard, and some random flashes of lightning came from the south-west.
Every sail was taken in but the topsails, still, no squall appeared to
be coming.  A few puffs lifted the topsails, but they fell again to the
mast, and all was as still as ever.  A moment more, and a terrific
flash and peal broke simultaneously upon us, and a cloud appeared to
open directly over our heads and let down the water in one body, like a
falling ocean.  We stood motionless, and almost stupefied; yet nothing
had been struck.  Peal after peal rattled over our heads, with a sound
which seemed actually to stop the breath in the body, and the "speedy
gleams" kept the whole ocean in a glare of light. The violent fall of
rain lasted but a few minutes, and was succeeded by occasional drops
and showers; but the lightning continued incessant for several hours,
breaking the midnight darkness with irregular and blinding flashes.
During all which time there was not a breath stirring, and we lay
motionless, like a mark to be shot at, probably the only object on the
surface of the ocean for miles and miles.  We stood hour after hour,
until our watch was out, and we were relieved, at four o'clock.  During
all this time, hardly a word was spoken; no bells were struck, and the
wheel was silently relieved.  The rain fell at intervals in heavy
showers, and we stood drenched through and blinded by the flashes,
which broke the Egyptian darkness with a brightness which seemed almost
malignant; while the thunder rolled in peals, the concussion of which
appeared to shake the very ocean.  A ship is not often injured by
lightning, for the electricity is separated by the great number of
points she presents, and the quantity of iron which she has scattered
in various parts.  The electric fluid ran over our anchors, top-sail
sheets and ties; yet no harm was done to us.  We went below at four
o'clock, leaving things in the same state.  It is not easy to sleep,
when the very next flash may tear the ship in two, or set her on fire;
or where the deathlike calm may be broken by the blast of a hurricane,
taking the masts out of the ship.  But a man is no sailor if he cannot
sleep when he turns-in, and turn out when he's called.  And when, at
seven bells, the customary "All the larboard watch, ahoy?" brought us
on deck, it was a fine, clear, sunny morning, the ship going leisurely
along, with a good breeze and all sail set.




CHAPTER XXXV

A DOUBLE-REEF-TOP-SAIL BREEZE--SCURVY--A FRIEND IN NEED--PREPARING FOR
PORT--THE GULF STREAM

From the latitude of the West Indies, until we got inside the Bermudas,
where we took the westerly and south-westerly winds, which blow
steadily off the coast of the United States early in the autumn, we had
every variety of weather, and two or three moderate gales, or, as
sailors call them, double-reef-topsail breezes, which came on in the
usual manner, and of which one is a specimen of all.--A fine afternoon;
all hands at work, some in the rigging, and others on deck; a stiff
breeze, and ship close upon the wind, and skysails brailed
down.--Latter part of the afternoon, breeze increases, ship lies over
to it, and clouds look windy.  Spray begins to fly over the forecastle,
and wets the yarns the boys are knotting;--ball them up and put them
below.--Mate knocks off work and clears up decks earlier than usual,
and orders a man who has been employed aloft to send the royal halyards
over to windward, as he comes down.  Breast backstays hauled taut,
and tackle got upon the martingale back-rope.--One of the boys furls
the mizen royal.--Cook thinks there is going to be "nasty work," and
has supper ready early.--Mate gives orders to get supper by the watch,
instead of all hands, as usual.--While eating supper, hear the watch on
deck taking in the royals.--Coming on deck, find it is blowing harder,
and an ugly head sea is running.--Instead of having all hands on the
forecastle in the dog watch, smoking, singing, and telling yarns, one
watch goes below and turns-in, saying that it's going to be an ugly
night, and two hours' sleep is not to be lost.

Clouds look black and wild; wind rising, and ship working hard against
a heavy sea, which breaks over the forecastle, and washes aft through
the scuppers.  Still, no more sail is taken in, for the captain is a
driver, and, like all drivers, very partial to his top-gallant sails.
A top-gallant sail, too, makes the difference between a breeze and a
gale.  When a top-gallant sail is on a ship, it is only a breeze,
though I have seen ours set over a reefed topsail, when half the
bowsprit was under water, and it was up to a man's knees in the
scuppers.  At eight bells, nothing is said about reefing the topsails,
and the watch go below, with orders to "stand by for a call."  We
turn-in, growling at the "old man" for not reefing the topsails when
the watch was changed, but putting it off so as to call all hands, and
break up a whole watch below. Turn-in "all standing," and keep
ourselves awake, saying there is no use in going asleep to be waked up
again.--Wind whistles on deck, and ship works hard, groaning and
creaking, and pitching into a heavy head sea, which strikes against the
bows, with a noise like knocking upon a rock.--The dim lamp in the
forecastle swings to and fro, and things "fetch away" and go over to
leeward.--"Doesn't that booby of a second mate ever mean to take in his
top-gallant sails?--He'll have the sticks out of her soon," says old
Bill, who was always growling, and, like most old sailors, did not like
to see a ship abused.--By-and-by an order is given--"Aye, aye, sir!"
from the forecastle;--rigging is heaved down on deck;--the noise of a
sail is heard fluttering aloft, and the short, quick cry which sailors
make when hauling upon clewlines.--"Here comes his fore-top-gallant
sail in!"--We are wide awake, and know all that's going on as well as
if we were on deck.--A well-known voice is heard from the mast-head
singing out the officer of the watch to haul taut the weather
brace.--"Hallo! There's S---- aloft to furl the sail!"--Next thing,
rigging is heaved down directly over our heads, and a long-drawn cry
and a rattling of hanks announce that the flying-jib has come in.--The
second mate holds on to the main top-gallant sail until a heavy sea is
shipped, and washes over the forecastle as though the whole ocean had
come aboard; when a noise further aft shows that that sail, too, is
taking in.  After this, the ship is more easy for a time; two bells are
struck, and we try to get a little sleep.  By-and-by, bang, bang, bang,
on the scuttle--"All ha-a-ands, a ho-o-y!"--We spring out of our
berths, clap on a monkey-jacket and southwester, and tumble up the
ladder.--Mate up before us, and on the forecastle, singing out like a
roaring bull; the captain singing out on the quarter-deck, and the
second mate yelling, like a hyena, in the waist.  The ship is lying
over half upon her beam-ends; lee scuppers under water, and forecastle
all in a smother of foam.--Rigging all let go, and washing about decks;
topsail yards down upon the caps, and sails flapping and beating
against the masts; and starboard watch hauling out the reef-tackles of
the main topsail.  Our watch haul out the fore, and lay aloft and put
two reefs into it, and reef the foresail, and race with the starboard
watch, to see which will mast-head its topsail first.  All hands
tally-on to the main tack, and while some are furling the jib, and
hoisting the staysail, we mizen-topmen double-reef the mizen topsail
and hoist it up.  All being made fast--"Go below, the watch!" and we
turn-in to sleep out the rest of the time, which is perhaps an hour and
a half.  During all the middle, and for the first part of the morning
watch, it blows as hard as ever, but toward daybreak it moderates
considerably, and we shake a reef out of each topsail, and set the
top-gallant sails over them and when the watch come up, at seven bells,
for breakfast, shake the other reefs out, turn all hands to upon the
halyards, get the watch-tackle upon the top-gallant sheets and
halyards, set the flying-jib, and crack on to her again.

Our captain had been married only a few weeks before he left Boston;
and, after an absence of over two years, it may be supposed he was not
slow in carrying sail.  The mate, too, was not to be beaten by anybody;
and the second mate, though he was afraid to press sail, was afraid as
death of the captain, and being between two fears, sometimes carried on
longer than any of them.  We snapped off three flying-jib booms in
twenty-four hours, as fast as they could be fitted and rigged out;
sprung the spritsail yard; and made nothing of studding-sail booms.
Beside the natural desire to get home, we had another reason for urging
the ship on.  The scurvy had begun to show itself on board.  One man
had it so badly as to be disabled and off duty, and the English lad,
Ben, was in a dreadful state, and was daily growing worse.  His legs
swelled and pained him so that he could not walk; his flesh lost its
elasticity, so that if it was pressed in, it would not return to its
shape; and his gums swelled until he could not open his mouth.  His
breath, too, became very offensive; he lost all strength and spirit;
could eat nothing; grew worse every day; and, in fact, unless something
was done for him, would be a dead man in a week, at the rate at which
he was sinking.  The medicines were all, or nearly all, gone; and if we
had had a chest-full, they would have been of no use; for nothing but
fresh provisions and terra firma has any effect upon the scurvy. This
disease is not so common now as formerly; and is attributed generally
to salt provisions, want of cleanliness, the free use of grease and fat
(which is the reason of its prevalence among whalemen,) and, last of
all, to laziness.  It never could have been from the latter cause on
board our ship; nor from the second, for we were a very cleanly crew,
kept our forecastle in neat order, and were more particular about
washing and changing clothes than many better-dressed people on shore.
It was probably from having none but salt provisions, and possibly from
our having run very rapidly into hot weather, after having been so long
in the extremest cold.

Depending upon the westerly winds, which prevail off the coast in the
autumn, the captain stood well to the westward, to run inside of the
Bermudas, and in the hope of falling in with some vessel bound to the
West Indies or the Southern States.  The scurvy had spread no farther
among the crew, but there was danger that it might; and these cases
were bad ones.

Sunday, Sept. 11th.  Lat. 30 deg. 04' N., long. 63 deg. 23' W.; the
Bermudas bearing north-north-west, distant one hundred and fifty miles.
The next morning, about ten o'clock, "Sail ho!" was cried on deck; and
all hands turned up to see the stranger.  As she drew nearer, she proved
to be an ordinary-looking hermaphrodite brig, standing south-south-east;
and probably bound out, from the Northern States, to the West Indies; and
was just the thing we wished to see. She hove-to for us, seeing that we
wished to speak her; and we ran down to her; boom-ended our
studding-sails; backed our main topsail, and hailed her--"Brig,
ahoy!"--"Hallo!"--"Where are you from, pray?"--"From New York, bound to
Curacoa."--"Have you any fresh provisions to spare?"--"Aye, aye! plenty
of them!"  We lowered away the quarter-boat, instantly; and the captain
and four hands sprang in, and were soon dancing over the water, and
alongside the brig.  In about half an hour, they returned with half a
boat-load of potatoes and onions, and each vessel filled away, and kept
on her course.  She proved to be the brig Solon, of Plymouth, from the
Connecticut river, and last from New York, bound to the Spanish Main,
with a cargo of fresh provisions, mules, tin bake-pans, and other
notions.  The onions were genuine and fresh; and the mate of the brig
told the men in the boat, as he passed the bunches over the side, that
the girls had strung them on purpose for us the day he sailed.  We had
supposed, on board, that a new president had been chosen, the last
winter, and, just as we filled away, the captain hailed and asked who
was president of the United States.  They answered, Andrew Jackson; but
thinking that the old General could not have been elected for a third
time, we hailed again, and they answered--Jack Downing; and left us to
correct the mistake at our leisure.

It was just dinner-time when we filled away; and the steward, taking a
few bunches of onions for the cabin, gave the rest to us, with a bottle
of vinegar.  We carried them forward, stowed them away in the
forecastle, refusing to have them cooked, and ate them raw, with our
beef and bread.  And a glorious treat they were.  The freshness and
crispness of the raw onion, with the earthy taste, give it a great
relish to one who has been a long time on salt provisions.

We were perfectly ravenous after them.  It was like a scent of blood to
a hound.  We ate them at every meal, by the dozen; and filled our
pockets with them, to eat in our watch on deck; and the bunches, rising
in the form of a cone, from the largest at the bottom, to the smallest,
no larger than a strawberry, at the top, soon disappeared.

The chief use, however, of the fresh provisions, was for the men with
the scurvy.  One of them was able to eat, and he soon brought himself
to, by gnawing upon raw potatoes; but the other, by this time, was
hardly able to open his mouth; and the cook took the potatoes raw,
pounded them in a mortar, and gave him the juice to drink.  This he
swallowed, by the tea-spoonful at a time, and rinsed it about his gums
and throat.  The strong earthy taste and smell of this extract of the
raw potato at first produced a shuddering through his whole frame, and
after drinking it, an acute pain, which ran through all parts of his
body; but knowing, by this, that it was taking strong hold, he
persevered, drinking a spoonful every hour or so, and holding it a long
time in his mouth; until, by the effect of this drink, and of his own
restored hope, (for he had nearly given up, in despair) he became so
well as to be able to move about, and open his mouth enough to eat the
raw potatoes and onions pounded into a soft pulp.  This course soon
restored his appetite and strength; and in ten days after we spoke the
Solon, so rapid was his recovery, that, from lying helpless and almost
hopeless in his berth, he was at the mast-head, furling a royal.

With a fine south-west wind, we passed inside of the Bermudas; and
notwithstanding the old couplet, which was quoted again and again by
those who thought we should have one more touch of a storm before our
voyage was up,--

  "If the Bermudas let you pass,
  You must beware of Hatteras--"

we were to the northward of Hatteras, with good weather, and beginning
to count, not the days, but the hours, to the time when we should be at
anchor in Boston harbor.

Our ship was in fine order, all hands having been hard at work upon her
from daylight to dark, every day but Sunday, from the time we got into
warm weather on this side the Cape.

It is a common notion with landsmen that a ship is in her finest
condition when she leaves port to enter upon her voyage; and that she
comes home, after a long absence,

"With over-weathered ribs and ragged sails; Lean, rent and beggared by
the strumpet wind."

But so far from that, unless a ship meets with some accident, or comes
upon the coast in the dead of winter, when work cannot be done upon the
rigging, she is in her finest order at the end of the voyage.  When she
sails from port, her rigging is generally slack; the masts need
staying; the decks and sides are black and dirty from taking in cargo;
riggers' seizings and overhand knots in place of nice seamanlike work;
and everything, to a sailor's eye, adrift.

But on the passage home, the fine weather between the tropics is spent
in putting the ship into the neatest order.  No merchant vessel looks
better than an Indiaman, or a Cape Horn-er, after a long voyage; and
many captains and mates will stake their reputation for seamanship upon
the appearance of their ship when she hauls into the dock. All our
standing rigging, fore and aft, was set up and tarred; the masts
stayed; the lower and top-mast rigging rattled down, (or up, as the
fashion now is;) and so careful were our officers to keep the rattlins
taut and straight, that we were obliged to go aloft upon the ropes
and shearpoles with which the rigging was swifted in; and these were
used as jury rattlins until we got close upon the coast.  After this,
the ship was scraped, inside and out, decks, masts, booms and all; a
stage being rigged outside, upon which we scraped her down to the
water-line; pounding the rust off the chains, bolts and fastenings.
Then, taking two days of calm under the line, we painted her on the
outside, giving her open ports in her streak, and finishing off the
nice work upon the stern, where sat Neptune in his car, holding his
trident, drawn by sea-horses; and re-touched the gilding and coloring
of the cornucopia which ornamented her billet-head.  The inside was
then painted, from the skysail truck to the waterways--the yards black;
mast-heads and tops, white; monkey-rail, black, white, and yellow;
bulwarks, green; plank-shear, white; waterways, lead color, etc., etc.
The anchors and ring-bolts, and other iron work, were blackened with
coal-tar; and the steward kept at work, polishing the brass of the
wheel, bell, capstan, etc.  The cabin, too, was scraped, varnished, and
painted; and the forecastle scraped and scrubbed; there being no need
of paint and varnish for Jack's quarters. The decks were then scraped
and varnished, and everything useless thrown overboard; among which the
empty tar barrels were set on fire and thrown overboard, on a dark
night, and left blazing astern, lighting up the ocean for miles.  Add
to all this labor, the neat work upon the rigging;--the knots,
flemish-eyes, splices, seizings, coverings, pointings, and graftings,
which show a ship in crack order.  The last preparation, and which
looked still more like coming into port, was getting the anchors over
the bows, bending the cables, rowsing the hawsers up from between
decks, and overhauling the deep-sea-lead-line.

Thursday, September 15th.  This morning the temperature and peculiar
appearance of the water, the quantities of gulf-weed floating about,
and a bank of clouds lying directly before us, showed that we were on
the border of the Gulf Stream. This remarkable current, running
north-east, nearly across the ocean, is almost constantly shrouded in
clouds, and is the region of storms and heavy seas.  Vessels often run
from a clear sky and light wind, with all sail, at once into a heavy
sea and cloudy sky, with double-reefed topsails.  A sailor told me that
on a passage from Gibraltar to Boston, his vessel neared the Gulf
Stream with a light breeze, clear sky, and studding-sails out, alow and
aloft; while, before it, was a long line of heavy, black clouds, lying
like a bank upon the water, and a vessel coming out of it, under
double-reefed topsails, and with royal yards sent down.  As they drew
near, they began to take in sail after sail, until they were reduced to
the same condition; and, after twelve or fourteen hours of rolling and
pitching in a heavy sea, before a smart gale, they ran out of the bank
on the other side, and were in fine weather again, and under their
royals and skysails.  As we drew into it, the sky became cloudy, the
sea high, and everything had the appearance of the going off, or the
coming on, of a storm.  It was blowing no more than a stiff breeze; yet
the wind, being north-east, which is directly against the course of the
current, made an ugly, chopping sea, which heaved and pitched the
vessel about, so that we were obliged to send down the royal yards, and
to take in our light sails.  At noon, the thermometer, which had been
repeatedly lowered into the water, showed the temperature to be
seventy; which was considerably above that of the air,--as is always
the case in the centre of the Stream.  A lad who had been at work at
the royal mast-head, came down upon the deck, and took a turn round the
long-boat; and looking very pale, said he was so sick that he could
stay aloft no longer, but was ashamed to acknowledge it to the officer.
He went up again, but soon gave out and came down, and leaned over the
rail, "as sick as a lady passenger."

He had been to sea several years, and had, he said, never been sick
before.  He was made so by the irregular, pitching motion of the
vessel, increased by the height to which he had been above the hull,
which is like the fulcrum of the lever.  An old sailor, who was at work
on the top-gallant yard, said he felt disagreeably all the time, and
was glad, when his job was done, to get down into the top, or upon the
deck.  Another hand was sent to the royal mast-head, who staid nearly
an hour, but gave up.  The work must be done, and the mate sent me.  I
did very well for some time, but began at length to feel very
unpleasantly, though I had never been sick since the first two days
from Boston, and had been in all sorts of weather and situations.
Still, I kept my place, and did not come down, until I had got through
my work, which was more than two hours.  The ship certainly never acted
so badly before. She was pitched and jerked about in all manner of
ways; the sails seeming to have no steadying power over her.  The
tapering points of the masts made various curves and angles against the
sky overhead, and sometimes, in one sweep of an instant, described an
arc of more than forty-five degrees, bringing up with a sudden jerk
which made it necessary to hold on with both hands, and then sweeping
off, in another long, irregular curve.  I was not positively sick, and
came down with a look of indifference, yet was not unwilling to get
upon the comparative terra firma of the deck.  A few hours more carried
us through, and when we saw the sun go down, upon our larboard beam, in
the direction of the continent of North America, we had left the bank
of dark, stormy clouds astern, in the twilight.




CHAPTER XXXVI

SOUNDINGS--SIGHTS FROM HOME--BOSTON HARBOR--LEAVING THE SHIP

Friday, Sept. 16th.  Lat. 38 deg. N., long. 69 deg. 00' W.  A fine
south-west wind; every hour carrying us nearer in toward land.  All hands
on deck at the dog watch, and nothing talked about, but our getting in;
where we should make the land; whether we should arrive before Sunday;
going to church; how Boston would look; friends; wages paid;--and the
like. Every one was in the best of spirits; and, the voyage being nearly
at an end, the strictness of discipline was relaxed; for it was not
necessary to order in a cross tone, what every one was ready to do with
a will.

The little differences and quarrels which a long voyage breeds on board
a ship, were forgotten, and every one was friendly; and two men, who
had been on the eve of a battle half the voyage, were laying out a plan
together for a cruise on shore.  When the mate came forward, he talked
to the men, and said we should be on George's Bank before to-morrow
noon; and joked with the boys, promising to go and see them, and to
take them down to Marblehead in a coach.

Saturday, 17th.  The wind was light all day, which kept us back
somewhat; but a fine breeze springing up at nightfall, we were running
fast in toward the land.  At six o'clock we expected to have the ship
hove-to for soundings, as a thick fog, coming up showed we were near
them; but no order was given, and we kept on our way.  Eight o'clock
came, and the watch went below, and, for the whole of the first hour,
the ship was tearing on, with studding-sails out, alow and aloft, and
the night as dark as a pocket.  At two bells the captain came on deck,
and said a word to the mate, when the studding sails were hauled into
the tops, or boom-ended, the after yards backed, the deep-sea-lead
carried forward, and everything got ready for sounding.  A man on the
spritsail yard with the lead, another on the cathead with a handful of
the line coiled up, another in the fore chains, another in the waist,
and another in the main chains, each with a quantity of the line coiled
away in his hand.  "All ready there, forward?"--"Aye, aye,
sir!"--"He-e-e-ave!"--"Watch! ho! watch!" sings out the man on the
spritsail yard, and the heavy lead drops into the water.  "Watch! ho!
watch!" bawls the man on the cat-head, as the last fake of the coil
drops from his hand, and "Watch! ho! watch!" is shouted by each one as
the line falls from his hold; until it comes to the mate, who tends the
lead, and has the line in coils on the quarter-deck.  Eighty fathoms,
and no bottom!  A depth as great as the height of St. Peter's!  The
line is snatched in a block upon the swifter, and three or four men
haul it in and coil it away.  The after yards are braced full, the
studding-sails hauled out again, and in a few minutes more the ship had
her whole way upon her.  At four bells, backed again, hove the lead,
and--soundings! at sixty fathoms!  Hurrah for Yankee land!  Hand over
hand, we hauled the lead in, and the captain, taking it to the light,
found black mud on the bottom.

Studding-sails taken in; after yards filled, and ship kept on under
easy sail all night; the wind dying away.

The soundings on the American coast are so regular that a navigator
knows as well where he has made land, by the soundings, as he would by
seeing the land.  Black mud is the soundings of Block Island.  As you
go toward Nantucket, it changes to a dark sand; then, sand and white
shells; and on George's Banks, white sand; and so on.  Being off Block
Island, our course was due east, to Nantucket Shoals, and the South
Channel; but the wind died away and left us becalmed in a thick fog, in
which we lay the whole of Sunday.  At noon of

Sunday, 18th, Block Island bore, by calculation, N. W. 1/4 W. fifteen
miles; but the fog was so thick all day that we could see nothing.

Having got through the ship's duty, and washed and shaved, we went
below, and had a fine time overhauling our chests, laying aside the
clothes we meant to go ashore in and throwing overboard all that were
worn out and good for nothing.  Away went the woollen caps in which we
had carried hides upon our heads, for sixteen months, on the coast of
California; the duck frocks, for tarring down rigging; and the worn-out
and darned mittens and patched woollen trowsers which had stood the tug
of Cape Horn.

We hove them overboard with a good will; for there is nothing like
being quit of the very last appendages and remnants of our evil
fortune.  We got our chests all ready for going ashore, ate the last
"duff" we expected to have on board the ship Alert; and talked as
confidently about matters on shore as though our anchor were on the
bottom.

"Who'll go to church with me a week from to-day?"

"I will," says Jack; who said aye to everything.

"Go away, salt water!" says Tom.  "As soon as I get both legs ashore,
I'm going to shoe my heels, and button my ears behind me, and start off
into the bush, a straight course, and not stop till I'm out of the
sight of salt water!"

"Oh! belay that!  Spin that yarn where nobody knows your filling! If
you get once moored, stem and stern, in old B----'s grog-shop, with a
coal fire ahead and the bar under your lee, you won't see daylight for
three weeks!"

"No!" says Tom, "I'm going to knock off grog, and go and board at the
Home, and see if they won't ship me for a deacon!"

"And I," says Bill, "am going to buy a quadrant and ship for navigator
of a Hingham packet!"

These and the like jokes served to pass the time while we were lying
waiting for a breeze to clear up the fog and send us on our way.

Toward night a moderate breeze sprang up; the fog however continuing as
thick as before; and we kept on to the eastward.  About the middle of
the first watch, a man on the forecastle sang out, in a tone which
showed that there was not a moment to be lost,--"Hard up the helm!" and
a great ship loomed up out of the fog, coming directly down upon us.
She luffed at the same moment, and we just passed one another; our
spanker boom grazing over her quarter.  The officer of the deck had
only time to hail, and she answered, as she went into the fog again,
something about Bristol--probably, a whaleman from Bristol, Rhode
Island, bound out.  The fog continued through the night, with a very
light breeze, before which we ran to the eastward, literally feeling
our way along.  The lead was heaved every two hours, and the gradual
change from black mud to sand, showed that we were approaching
Nantucket South Shoals.  On Monday morning, the increased depth and
deep blue color of the water, and the mixture of shells and white sand
which we brought up, upon sounding, showed that we were in the channel,
and nearing George's; accordingly, the ship's head was put directly to
the northward, and we stood on, with perfect confidence in the
soundings, though we had not taken an observation for two days, nor
seen land; and the difference of an eighth of a mile out of the way
might put us ashore.  Throughout the day a provokingly light wind
prevailed, and at eight o'clock, a small fishing schooner, which we
passed, told us we were nearly abreast of Chatham lights.

Just before midnight, a light land-breeze sprang up, which carried us
well along; and at four o'clock, thinking ourselves to the northward of
Race Point, we hauled upon the wind and stood into the bay,
west-north-west, for Boston light, and commenced firing guns for a
pilot.  Our watch went below at four o'clock, but could not sleep, for
the watch on deck were banging away at the guns every few minutes.
And, indeed, we cared very little about it, for we were in Boston Bay;
and if fortune favored us, we could all "sleep in" the next night, with
nobody to call the watch every four hours.

We turned out, of our own will, at daybreak, to get a sight of land.

In the grey of the morning, one or two small fishing smacks peered out
of the mist; and when the broad day broke upon us, there lay the low
sand-hills of Cape Cod, over our larboard quarter, and before us, the
wide waters of Massachusetts Bay, with here and there a sail gliding
over its smooth surface.  As we drew in toward the mouth of the harbor,
as toward a focus, the vessels began to multiply until the bay seemed
actually alive with sails gliding about in every direction; some on the
wind, and others before it, as they were bound to or from the emporium
of trade and centre of the bay. It was a stirring sight for us, who had
been months on the ocean without seeing anything but two solitary
sails; and over two years without seeing more than the three or four
traders on an almost desolate coast.  There were the little coasters,
bound to and from the various towns along the south shore, down in the
bight of the bay, and to the eastward; here and there a square-rigged
vessel standing out to seaward; and, far in the distance, beyond Cape
Ann, was the smoke of a steamer, stretching along in a narrow, black
cloud upon the water.  Every sight was full of beauty and interest.  We
were coming back to our homes; and the signs of civilization, and
prosperity, and happiness, from which we had been so long banished,
were multiplying about us.  The high land of Cape Ann and the rocks and
shore of Cohasset were full in sight, the lighthouses, standing like
sentries in white before the harbors, and even the smoke from the
chimney on the plains of Hingham was seen rising slowly in the morning
air.  One of our boys was the son of a bucket-maker; and his face
lighted up as he saw the tops of the well-known hills which surround
his native place.  About ten o'clock a little boat came bobbing over
the water, and put a pilot on board, and sheered off in pursuit of
other vessels bound in.

Being now within the scope of the telegraph stations, our signals were
run up at the fore, and in half an hour afterwards, the owner on
'change, or in his counting-room, knew that his ship was below; and the
landlords, runners, and sharks in Ann street learned that there was a
rich prize for them down in the bay: a ship from round the Horn, with a
crew to be paid off with two years' wages.

The wind continuing very light, all hands were sent aloft to strip off
the chafing gear; and battens, parcellings, roundings, hoops, mats, and
leathers, came flying from aloft, and left the rigging neat and clean,
stripped of all its sea bandaging.  The last touch was put to the
vessel by painting the skysail poles; and I was sent up to the fore,
with a bucket of white paint and a brush, and touched her off, from the
truck to the eyes of the royal rigging.  At noon, we lay becalmed off
the lower light-house; and it being about slack water, we made little
progress.  A firing was heard in the direction of Hingham, and the
pilot said there was a review there.

The Hingham boy got wind of this, and said if the ship had been twelve
hours sooner, he should have been down among the soldiers, and in the
booths, and having a grand time.  As it was, we had little prospect of
getting in before night.  About two o'clock a breeze sprang up ahead,
from the westward, and we began beating up against it.  A full-rigged
brig was beating in at the same time, and we passed one another, in our
tacks, sometimes one and sometimes the other, working to windward, as
the wind and tide favored or opposed.  It was my trick at the wheel
from two till four; and I stood my last helm, making between nine
hundred and a thousand hours which I had spent at the helms of our two
vessels.  The tide beginning to set against us, we made slow work; and
the afternoon was nearly spent, before we got abreast of the inner
light.  In the meantime, several vessels were coming down, outward
bound; among which, a fine, large ship, with yards squared, fair wind
and fair tide, passed us like a race-horse, the men running out upon
her yards to rig out the studding-sail booms. Toward sundown the wind
came off in flaws, sometimes blowing very stiff, so that the pilot took
in the royals, and then it died away; when, in order to get us in
before the tide became too strong, the royals were set again.  As this
kept us running up and down the rigging all the time, one hand was sent
aloft at each mast-head, to stand-by to loose and furl the sails, at
the moment of the order.  I took my place at the fore, and loosed and
furled the royal five times between Rainsford Island and the Castle.
At one tack we ran so near to Rainsford Island, that, looking down from
the royal yard, the island, with its hospital buildings, nice gravelled
walks, and green plats, seemed to lie directly under our yard-arms.  So
close is the channel to some of these islands, that we ran the end of
our flying-jib-boom over one of the out-works of the fortifications on
George's Island; and had an opportunity of seeing the advantages of
that point as a fortified place; for, in working up the channel, we
presented a fair stem and stern, for raking, from the batteries, three
or four times.  One gun might have knocked us to pieces.

We had all set our hearts upon getting up to town before night and
going ashore, but the tide beginning to run strong against us, and the
wind, what there was of it, being ahead, we made but little by
weather-bowing the tide, and the pilot gave orders to cock-bill the
anchor and overhaul the chain.  Making two long stretches, which
brought us into the roads, under the lee of the castle, he clewed up
the topsails, and let go the anchor; and for the first time since
leaving San Diego,--one hundred and thirty-five days--our anchor was
upon bottom.  In half an hour more, we were lying snugly, with all
sails furled, safe in Boston harbor; our long voyage ended; the
well-known scene about us; the dome of the State House fading in the
western sky; the lights of the city starting into sight, as the
darkness came on; and at nine o'clock the clangor of the bells, ringing
their accustomed peals; among which the Boston boys tried to
distinguish the well-known tone of the Old South.

We had just done furling the sails, when a beautiful little
pleasure-boat luffed up into the wind, under our quarter, and the
junior partner of the firm to which our ship belonged, jumped on board.
I saw him from the mizen topsail yard, and knew him well.

He shook the captain by the hand, and went down into the cabin, and in
a few moments came up and inquired of the mate for me.

The last time I had seen him, I was in the uniform of an undergraduate
of Harvard College, and now, to his astonishment, there came down from
aloft a "rough alley" looking fellow, with duck trowsers and red shirt,
long hair, and face burnt as black as an Indian's. He shook me by the
hand, congratulated me upon my return and my appearance of health and
strength, and said my friends were all well.  I thanked him for telling
me what I should not have dared to ask; and if--

  "the first bringer of unwelcome news
  Hath but a losing office; and his tongue
  Sounds ever after like a sullen bell--"

certainly I shall ever remember this man and his words with pleasure.

The captain went up to town in the boat with Mr. H----, and left us to
pass another night on board ship, and to come up with the morning's
tide under command of the pilot.

So much did we feel ourselves to be already at home, in anticipation,
that our plain supper of hard bread and salt beef was barely touched;
and many on board, to whom this was the first voyage, could scarcely
sleep.  As for myself, by one of those anomalous changes of feeling of
which we are all the subjects, I found that I was in a state of
indifference, for which I could by no means account.  A year before,
while carrying hides on the coast, the assurance that in a twelvemonth
we should see Boston, made me half wild; but now that I was actually
there, and in sight of home, the emotions which I had so long
anticipated feeling, I did not find, and in their place was a state of
very nearly entire apathy.  Something of the same experience was
related to me by a sailor whose first voyage was one of five years upon
the North-west Coast.  He had left home, a lad, and after several years
of very hard and trying experience, found himself homeward bound; and
such was the excitement of his feelings that, during the whole passage,
he could talk and think of nothing else but his arrival, and how and
when he should jump from the vessel and take his way directly home.
Yet when the vessel was made fast to the wharf and the crew dismissed,
he seemed suddenly to lose all feeling about the matter.  He told me
that he went below and changed his dress; took some water from the
scuttle-butt and washed himself leisurely; overhauled his chest, and
put his clothes all in order; took his pipe from its place, filled it,
and sitting down upon his chest, smoked it slowly for the last time.
Here he looked round upon the forecastle in which he had spent so many
years, and being alone and his shipmates scattered, he began to feel
actually unhappy.  Home became almost a dream; and it was not until his
brother (who had heard of the ship's arrival) came down into the
forecastle and told him of things at home, and who were waiting there
to see him, that he could realize where he was, and feel interest
enough to put him in motion toward that place for which he had longed,
and of which he had dreamed, for years. There is probably so much of
excitement in prolonged expectation, that the quiet realizing of it
produces a momentary stagnation of feeling as well as of effort.  It
was a good deal so with me.  The activity of preparation, the rapid
progress of the ship, the first making land, the coming up the harbor,
and old scenes breaking upon the view, produced a mental as well as
bodily activity, from which the change to a perfect stillness, when
both expectation and the necessity of labor failed, left a calmness,
almost of indifference, from which I must be roused by some new
excitement.  And the next morning, when all hands were called, and we
were busily at work, clearing the decks, and getting everything in
readiness for going up to the wharves,--loading the guns for a salute,
loosing the sails, and manning the windlass--mind and body seemed to
wake together.

About ten o'clock, a sea-breeze sprang up, and the pilot gave orders to
get the ship under weigh.  All hands manned the windlass, and the
long-drawn "Yo, heave, ho!" which we had last heard dying away among
the desolate hills of San Diego, soon brought the anchor to the bows;
and, with a fair wind and tide, a bright sunny morning, royals and
sky-sails set, ensign, streamer, signals, and pennant, flying, and with
our guns firing, we came swiftly and handsomely up to the city.  Off
the end of the wharf, we rounded-to and let go our anchor; and no
sooner was it on the bottom, than the decks were filled with people:
custom-house officers; Topliff's agent, to inquire for news; others,
inquiring for friends on board, or left upon the coast; dealers in
grease, besieging the galley to make a bargain with the cook for his
slush; "loafers" in general; and last and chief, boarding-house
runners, to secure their men.

Nothing can exceed the obliging disposition of these runners, and the
interest they take in a sailor returned from a long voyage with a
plenty of money.  Two or three of them, at different times, took me by
the hand; remembered me perfectly; were quite sure I had boarded with
them before I sailed; were delighted to see me back; gave me their
cards; had a hand-cart waiting on the wharf, on purpose to take my
things up: would lend me a hand to get my chest ashore; bring a bottle
of grog on board if we did not haul in immediately,--and the like.  In
fact, we could hardly get clear of them, to go aloft and furl the
sails.  Sail after sail, for the hundredth time, in fair weather and in
foul, we furled now for the last time together, and came down and took
the warp ashore, manned the capstan, and with a chorus which waked up
half the North End, and rang among the buildings in the dock, we hauled
her in to the wharf.  Here, too, the landlords and runners were active
and ready, taking a bar to the capstan, lending a hand at the ropes,
laughing and talking and telling the news.  The city bells were just
ringing one when the last turn was made fast, and the crew dismissed;
and in five minutes more, not a soul was left on board the good ship
Alert, but the old ship-keeper, who had come down from the
counting-house to take charge of her.




CONCLUDING CHAPTER

I trust that they who have followed me to the end of my narrative, will
not refuse to carry their attention a little farther, to the concluding
remarks which I here present to them.

This chapter is written after the lapse of a considerable time since
the end of my voyage, and after a return to my former pursuits; and in
it I design to offer those views of what may be done for seamen, and of
what is already doing, which I have deduced from my experiences, and
from the attention which I have since gladly given to the subject.

The romantic interest which many take in the sea, and in those who live
upon it, may be of use in exciting their attention to this subject,
though I cannot but feel sure that all who have followed me in my
narrative must be convinced that the sailor has no romance in his
every-day life to sustain him, but that it is very much the same plain,
matter-of-fact drudgery and hardship, which would be experienced on
shore.  If I have not produced this conviction, I have failed in
persuading others of what my own experience has most fully impressed
upon myself.

There is a witchery in the sea, its songs and stories, and in the mere
sight of a ship, and the sailor's dress, especially to a young mind,
which has done more to man navies, and fill merchantmen, than all the
press-gangs of Europe.  I have known a young man with such a passion
for the sea, that the very creaking of a block stirred up his
imagination so that he could hardly keep his feet on dry ground; and
many are the boys, in every seaport, who are drawn away, as by an
almost irresistible attraction, from their work and schools, and hang
about the decks and yards of vessels, with a fondness which, it is
plain, will have its way.  No sooner, however, has the young sailor
begun his new life in earnest, than all this fine drapery falls off,
and he learns that it is but work and hardship, after all.  This is the
true light in which a sailor's life is to be viewed; and if in our
books, and anniversary speeches, we would leave out much that is said
about "blue water," "blue jackets," "open hearts," "seeing God's hand
on the deep," and so forth, and take this up like any other practical
subject, I am quite sure we should do full as much for those we wish to
benefit.  The question is, what can be done for sailors, as they
are,--men to be fed, and clothed, and lodged, for whom laws must be
made and executed, and who are to be instructed in useful knowledge,
and, above all, to be brought under religious influence and restraint?
It is upon these topics that I wish to make a few observations.

In the first place, I have no fancies about equality on board ship, It
is a thing out of the question, and certainly, in the present state of
mankind, not to be desired.  I never knew a sailor who found fault with
the orders and ranks of the service; and if I expected to pass the rest
of my life before the mast, I would not wish to have the power of the
captain diminished an iota.  It is absolutely necessary that there
should be one head and one voice, to control everything, and be
responsible for everything.  There are emergencies which require the
instant exercise of extreme power. These emergencies do not allow of
consultation; and they who would be the captain's constituted advisers
might be the very men over whom he would be called upon to exert his
authority.  It has been found necessary to vest in every government,
even the most democratic, some extraordinary, and, at first sight,
alarming powers; trusting in public opinion, and subsequent
accountability to modify the exercise of them.  These are provided to
meet exigencies, which all hope may never occur, but which yet by
possibility may occur, and if they should, and there were no power to
meet them instantly, there would be an end put to the government at
once.  So it is with the authority of the shipmaster.  It will not
answer to say that he shall never do this and that thing, because it
does not seem always necessary and advisable that it should be done.
He has great cares and responsibilities; is answerable for everything;
and is subject to emergencies which perhaps no other man exercising
authority among civilized people is subject to.  Let him, then, have
powers commensurate with his utmost possible need; only let him be held
strictly responsible for the exercise of them.  Any other course would
be injustice, as well as bad policy.

In the treatment of those under his authority, the captain is amenable
to the common law, like any other person.  He is liable at common law
for murder, assault and battery, and other offences; and in addition to
this, there is a special statute of the United States which makes a
captain or other officer liable to imprisonment for a term not
exceeding five years, and to a fine not exceeding a thousand dollars,
for inflicting any cruel punishment upon, withholding food from, or in
any other way maltreating a seaman.  This is the state of the law on
the subject; while the relation in which the parties stand, and the
peculiar necessities, excuses, and provocations arising from that
relation, are merely circumstances to be considered in each case.  As
to the restraints upon the master's exercise of power, the laws
themselves seem, on the whole, to be sufficient.  I do not see that we
are in need, at present, of more legislation on the subject.  The
difficulty lies rather in the administration of the laws; and this is
certainly a matter that deserves great consideration, and one of no
little embarrassment.

In the first place, the courts have said that public policy requires
the power of the master and officers should be sustained.  Many lives
and a great amount of property are constantly in their hands, for which
they are strictly responsible.  To preserve these, and to deal justly
by the captain, and not lay upon him a really fearful responsibility,
and then tie up his hands, it is essential that discipline should be
supported.  In the second place, there is always great allowance to be
made for false swearing and exaggeration by seamen, and for
combinations among them against their officers; and it is to be
remembered that the latter have often no one to testify on their side.
These are weighty and true statements, and should not be lost sight of
by the friends of seamen.  On the other hand, sailors make many
complaints, some of which are well founded.

On the subject of testimony, seamen labor under a difficulty full as
great as that of the captain.  It is a well-known fact, that they are
usually much better treated when there are passengers on board.

The presence of passengers is a restraint upon the captain, not only
from his regard to their feelings and to the estimation in which they
may hold him, but because he knows they will be influential witnesses
against him if he is brought to trial. Though officers may sometimes be
inclined to show themselves off before passengers, by freaks of office
and authority, yet cruelty they would hardly dare to be guilty of.  It
is on long and distant voyages, where there is no restraint upon the
captain, and none but the crew to testify against him, that sailors
need most the protection of the law.  On such voyages as these, there
are many cases of outrageous cruelty on record, enough to make one
heartsick, and almost disgusted with the sight of man; and many, many
more, which have never come to light, and never will be known, until
the sea shall give up its dead.  Many of these have led to mutiny and
piracy,--stripe for stripe, and blood for blood.  If on voyages of this
description the testimony of seamen is not to be received in favor of
one another, or too great a deduction is made on account of their being
seamen, their case is without remedy; and the captain, knowing this,
will be strengthened in that disposition to tyrannize which the
possession of absolute power, without the restraints of friends and
public opinion, is too apt to engender.

It is to be considered, also, that the sailor comes into court under
very different circumstances from the master.  He is thrown among
landlords, and sharks of all descriptions; is often led to drink
freely; and comes upon the stand unaided, and under a certain cloud of
suspicion as to his character and veracity.  The captain, on the other
hand, is backed by the owners and insurers, and has an air of greater
respectability; though, after all, he may have but a little better
education than the sailor, and sometimes, (especially among those
engaged in certain voyages that I could mention) a very hackneyed
conscience.

These are the considerations most commonly brought up on the subject of
seamen's evidence; and I think it cannot but be obvious to every one
that here, positive legislation would be of no manner of use.  There
can be no rule of law regulating the weight to be given to seamen's
evidence.  It must rest in the mind of the judge and jury; and no
enactment or positive rule of court could vary the result a hair, in
any one case.  The effect of a sailor's testimony in deciding a case
must depend altogether upon the reputation of the class to which he
belongs, and upon the impression he himself produces in court by his
deportment, and by those infallible marks of character which always
tell upon a jury.

In fine, after all the well-meant and specious projects that have been
brought forward, we seem driven back to the belief, that the best means
of securing a fair administration of the laws made for the protection
of seamen, and certainly the only means which can create any important
change for the better, is the gradual one of raising the intellectual
and religious character of the sailor, so that as an individual and as
one of a class, he may, in the first instance, command the respect of
his officers, and if any difficulty should happen, may upon the stand
carry that weight which an intelligent and respectable man of the lower
class almost always does with a jury.  I know there are many men who,
when a few cases of great hardship occur, and it is evident that there
is an evil somewhere, think that some arrangement must be made, some
law passed, or some society got up, to set all right at once. On this
subject there can be no call for any such movement; on the contrary, I
fully believe that any public and strong action would do harm, and that
we must be satisfied to labor in the less easy and less exciting task
of gradual improvement, and abide the issue of things working slowly
together for good.

Equally injudicious would be any interference with the economy of the
ship.  The lodging, food, hours of sleep, etc., are all matters which,
though capable of many changes for the better, must yet be left to
regulate themselves.  And I am confident that there will be, and that
there is now a gradual improvement in all such particulars.  The
forecastles of most of our ships are small, black, and wet holes, which
few landsmen would believe held a crew of ten or twelve men on a voyage
of months or years; and often, indeed in most cases, the provisions are
not good enough to make a meal anything more than a necessary part of a
day's duty;[1] and on the score of sleep, I fully believe that the
lives of merchant seamen are shortened by the want of it.  I do not
refer to those occasions when it is necessarily broken in upon; but,
for months, during fine weather, in many merchantmen, all hands are
kept, throughout the day, and, then, there are eight hours on deck for
one watch each night.  Thus it is usually the case that at the end of a
voyage, where there has been the finest weather, and no disaster, the
crew have a wearied and worn-out appearance. They never sleep longer
than four hours at a time, and are seldom called without being really
in need of more rest.  There is no one thing that a sailor thinks more
of as a luxury of life on shore, than a whole night's sleep.  Still,
all these things must be left to be gradually modified by circumstances.

Whenever hard cases occur, they should be made known, and masters and
owners should be held answerable, and will, no doubt, in time, be
influenced in their arrangements and discipline by the increased
consideration in which sailors are held by the public.

It is perfectly proper that the men should live in a different part of
the vessel from the officers; and if the forecastle is made large and
comfortable, there is no reason why the crew should not live there as
well as in any other part.  In fact, sailors prefer the forecastle.  It
is their accustomed place, and in it they are out of the sight and
hearing of their officers.

As to their food and sleep, there are laws, with heavy penalties,
requiring a certain amount of stores to be on board, and safely stowed;
and, for depriving the crew unnecessarily of food or sleep, the captain
is liable at common law, as well as under the statute before referred
to.  Farther than this, it would not be safe to go.

The captain must be the judge when it is necessary to keep his crew
from their sleep; and sometimes a retrenching, not of the necessaries,
but of some of the little niceties of their meals, as, for instance,
duff on Sunday, may be a mode of punishment, though I think generally
an injudicious one.

I could not do justice to this subject without noticing one part of the
discipline of a ship, which has been very much discussed of late, and
has brought out strong expressions of indignation from many,--I mean
the infliction of corporal punishment.  Those who have followed me in
my narrative will remember that I was witness to an act of great
cruelty inflicted upon my own shipmates; and indeed I can sincerely say
that the simple mention of the word flogging, brings up in me feelings
which I can hardly control.  Yet, when the proposition is made to
abolish it entirely and at once; to prohibit the captain from ever,
under any circumstances, inflicting corporal punishment; I am obliged
to pause, and, I must say, to doubt exceedingly the expediency of
making any positive enactment which shall have that effect.  If the
design of those who are writing on this subject is merely to draw
public attention to it, and to discourage the practice of flogging, and
bring it into disrepute, it is well; and, indeed, whatever may be the
end they have in view, the mere agitation of the question will have
that effect, and, so far, must do good.  Yet I should not wish to take
the command of a ship to-morrow, running my chance of a crew, as most
masters must, and know, and have my crew know, that I could not, under
any circumstances, inflict even moderate chastisement.  I should trust
that I might never have to resort to it; and, indeed, I scarcely know
what risk I would not run, and to what inconvenience I would not
subject myself, rather than do so.  Yet not to have the power of
holding it up in terrorem, and indeed of protecting myself, and all
under my charge, by it, if some extreme case should arise, would be a
situation I should not wish to be placed in myself, or to take the
responsibility of placing another in.

Indeed, the difficulties into which masters and officers are liable to
be thrown, are not sufficiently considered by many whose sympathies are
easily excited by stories, frequent enough, and true enough of
outrageous abuse of this power.  It is to be remembered that more than
three-fourths of the seamen in our merchant vessels are foreigners.
They are from all parts of the world.  A great many from the north of
Europe, beside Frenchmen, Spaniards, Portuguese, Italians, men from all
parts of the Mediterranean, together with Lascars, <DW64>s, and,
perhaps worst of all, the off-casts of British men-of-war, and men from
our own country who have gone to sea because they could not be
permitted to live on land.

As things now are, many masters are obliged to sail without knowing
anything of their crews, until they get out at sea.  There may be
pirates or mutineers among them; and one bad man will often infect all
the rest; and it is almost certain that some of them will be ignorant
foreigners, hardly understanding a word of our language, accustomed all
their lives to no influence but force, and perhaps nearly as familiar
with the use of the knife as with that of the marline-spike.  No
prudent master, however peaceably inclined, would go to sea without his
pistols and handcuffs.  Even with such a crew as I have supposed,
kindness and moderation would be the best policy, and the duty of every
conscientious man; and the administering of corporal punishment might
be dangerous, and of doubtful use.  But the question is not, what a
captain ought generally to do, but whether it shall be put out of the
power of every captain, under any circumstances, to make use of, even
moderate, chastisement.  As the law now stands, a parent may correct
moderately his child, and the master his apprentice; and the case of
the shipmaster has been placed upon the same principle.  The statutes,
and the common law as expounded in the decisions of courts, and in the
books of commentators, are express and unanimous to this point, that
the captain may inflict moderate corporal chastisement, for a
reasonable cause.  If the punishment is excessive, or the cause not
sufficient to justify it, he is answerable; and the jury are to
determine, by their verdict in each case, whether, under all the
circumstances, the punishment was moderate, and for a justifiable cause.

This seems to me to be as good a position as the whole subject can be
left in.  I mean to say, that no positive enactment, going beyond this,
is needed, or would be a benefit either to masters or men, in the
present state of things.  This again would seem to be a case which
should be left to the gradual working of its own cure.  As seamen
improve, punishment will become less necessary; and as the character of
officers is raised, they will be less ready to inflict it; and, still
more, the infliction of it upon intelligent and respectable men, will
be an enormity which will not be tolerated by public opinion, and by
juries, who are the pulse of the body politic.  No one can have a
greater abhorrence of the infliction of such punishment than I have,
and a stronger conviction that severity is bad policy with a crew; yet
I would ask every reasonable man whether he had not better trust to the
practice becoming unnecessary and disreputable; to the measure of
moderate chastisement and a justifiable cause being better understood,
and thus, the act becoming dangerous, and in course of time to be
regarded as an unheard-of barbarity--than to take the responsibility of
prohibiting it, at once, in all cases, and in what ever degree, by
positive enactment?

There is, however, one point connected with the administration of
justice to seamen, to which I wish seriously to call the attention of
those interested in their behalf, and, if possible, also of some of
those concerned in that administration.  This is, the practice which
prevails of making strong appeals to the jury in mitigation of damages,
or to the judge, after a verdict has been rendered against a captain or
officer, for a lenient sentence, on the grounds of their previous good
character, and of their being poor, and having friends and families
depending upon them for support.  These appeals have been allowed a
weight which is almost incredible, and which, I think, works a greater
hardship upon seamen than any one other thing in the laws, or the
execution of them.  Notwithstanding every advantage the captain has
over the seaman in point of evidence, friends, money, and able counsel,
it becomes apparent that he must fail in his defence.  An appeal is
then made to the jury, if it is a civil action, or to the judge for a
mitigated sentence, if it is a criminal prosecution, on the two grounds
I have mentioned.  The same form is usually gone through in every case.
In the first place, as to the previous good character of the party.
Witnesses are brought from the town in which he resides, to testify to
his good character, and to his unexceptionable conduct when on shore.
They say that he is a good father, or husband, or son, or neighbor, and
that they never saw in him any signs of a cruel or tyrannical
disposition.  I have even known evidence admitted to show the character
he bore when a boy at school.  The owners of the vessel, and other
merchants, and perhaps the president of the insurance company, are then
introduced; and they testify to his correct deportment, express their
confidence in his honesty, and say that they have never seen anything
in his conduct to justify a suspicion of his being capable of cruelty
or tyranny. This evidence is then put together, and great stress is
laid upon the extreme respectability of those who give it.  They are
the companions and neighbors of the captain, it is said,--men who know
him in his business and domestic relations, and who knew him in his
early youth.  They are also men of the highest standing in the
community, and who, as the captain's employers, must be supposed to
know his character.  This testimony is then contrasted with that of
some half dozen obscure sailors, who, the counsel will not forget to
add, are exasperated against the captain because he has found it
necessary to punish them moderately, and who have combined against him,
and if they have not fabricated a story entirely, have at least so
exaggerated it, that little confidence can be placed in it.

The next thing to be done is to show to the court and jury that the
captain is a poor man, and has a wife and family, or other friends,
depending upon him for support; that if he is fined, it will only be
taking bread from the mouths of the innocent and helpless, and laying a
burden upon them which their whole lives will not be able to work off;
and that if he is imprisoned, the confinement, to be sure, he will have
to bear, but the distress consequent upon the cutting him off from his
labor and means of earning his wages, will fall upon a poor wife and
helpless children, or upon an infirm parent. These two topics, well
put, and urged home earnestly, seldom fail of their effect.

In deprecation of this mode of proceeding, and in behalf of men who I
believe are every day wronged by it, I would urge a few considerations
which seem to me to be conclusive.

First, as to the evidence of the good character the captain sustains on
shore.  It is to be remembered that masters of vessels have usually
been brought up in a forecastle; and upon all men, and especially upon
those taken from lower situations, the conferring of absolute power is
too apt to work a great change.  There are many captains whom I know to
be cruel and tyrannical men at sea, who yet, among their friends, and
in their families, have never lost the reputation they bore in
childhood.  In fact, the sea-captain is seldom at home, and when he is,
his stay is short, and during the continuance of it he is surrounded by
friends who treat him with kindness and consideration, and he has
everything to please, and at the same time to restrain him.  He would
be a brute indeed, if, after an absence of months or years, during his
short stay, so short that the novelty and excitement of it has hardly
time to wear off, and the attentions he receives as a visitor and
stranger hardly time to slacken,--if, under such circumstances, a
townsman or neighbor would be justified in testifying against his
correct and peaceable deportment.  With the owners of the vessel, also,
to which he is attached, and among merchants and insurers generally, he
is a very different man from what he may be at sea, when his own
master, and the master of everybody and everything about him.  He knows
that upon such men, and their good opinion of him, he depends for his
bread.  So far from their testimony being of any value in determining
what his conduct would be at sea, one would expect that the master who
would abuse and impose upon a man under his power, would be the most
compliant and deferential to his employers at home.

As to the appeal made in the captain's behalf on the ground of his
being poor and having persons depending upon his labor for support, the
main and fatal objection to it is, that it will cover every case of the
kind, and exempt nearly the whole body of masters and officers from the
punishment the law has provided for them.  There are very few, if any
masters or other officers of merchantmen in our country, who are not
poor men, and having either parents, wives, children, or other
relatives, depending mainly or wholly upon their exertions for support
in life.  Few others follow the sea for subsistence.  Now if this
appeal is to have weight with courts in diminishing the penalty the law
would otherwise inflict, is not the whole class under a privilege which
will, in a degree, protect it in wrong-doing?  It is not a thing that
happens now and then.  It is the invariable appeal, the last resort, of
counsel, when everything else has failed.  I have known cases of the
most flagrant nature, where after every effort has been made for the
captain, and yet a verdict rendered against him, and all other hope
failed, this appeal has been urged, and with such success that the
punishment has been reduced to something little more than nominal, the
court not seeming to consider that it might be made in almost every
such case that could come before them.  It is a little singular, too,
that it seems to be confined to cases of shipmasters and officers.  No
one ever heard of a sentence, for an offence committed on shore, being
reduced by the court on the ground of the prisoner's poverty, and the
relation in which he may stand to third persons.  On the contrary, it
had been thought that the certainty that disgrace and suffering will be
brought upon others as well as himself, is one of the chief restraints
upon the criminally disposed.  Besides, this course works a peculiar
hardship in the case of the sailor.  For if poverty is the point in
question, the sailor is the poorer of the two; and if there is a man on
earth who depends upon whole limbs and an unbroken spirit for support,
it is the sailor.  He, too, has friends to whom his hard earnings may
be a relief, and whose hearts will bleed at any cruelty or indignity
practised upon him. Yet I never knew this side of the case to be once
adverted to in these arguments addressed to the leniency of the court,
which are now so much in vogue; and certainly they are never allowed a
moment's consideration when a sailor is on trial for revolt, or for an
injury done to an officer.  Notwithstanding the many difficulties which
lie in a seaman's way in a court of justice, presuming that they will
be modified in time, there would be little to complain of, were it not
for these two appeals.

It is no cause of complaint that the testimony of seamen against their
officers is viewed with suspicion, and that great allowance is made for
combinations and exaggeration.  On the contrary, it is the judge's duty
to charge the jury on these points strongly.  But there is reason for
objection, when, after a strict cross-examination of witnesses, after
the arguments of counsel, and the judge's charge, a verdict is found
against the master, that the court should allow the practice of hearing
appeals to its lenity, supported solely by evidence of the captain's
good conduct when on shore, (especially where the case is one in which
no evidence but that of sailors could have been brought against the
accused), and then, on this ground, and on the invariable claims of the
wife and family, be induced to cut down essentially the penalty imposed
by a statute made expressly for masters and officers of merchantmen,
and for no one else.

There are many particulars connected with the manning of vessels, the
provisions given to crews, and the treatment of them while at sea, upon
which there might be a good deal said; but as I have, for the most
part, remarked upon them as they came up in the course of my narrative,
I will offer nothing further now, except on the single point of the
manner of shipping men.  This, it is well known, is usually left
entirely to the shipping-masters, and is a cause of a great deal of
difficulty, which might be remedied by the captain, or owner, if he has
any knowledge of seamen, attending to it personally.  One of the
members of the firm to which our ship belonged, Mr. S----, had been
himself a master of a vessel, and generally selected the crew from a
number sent down to him from the shipping-office.  In this way he
almost always had healthy, serviceable, and respectable men; for any
one who has seen much of sailors can tell pretty well at first sight,
by a man's dress, countenance, and deportment, what he would be on
board ship.  This same gentleman was also in the habit of seeing the
crew together, and speaking to them previously to their sailing.  On
the day before our ship sailed, while the crew were getting their
chests and clothes on board, he went down into the forecastle and spoke
to them about the voyage, the clothing they would need, the provision
he had made for them, and saw that they had a lamp and a few other
conveniences.  If owners or masters would more generally take the same
pains, they would often save their crews a good deal of inconvenience,
beside creating a sense of satisfaction and gratitude, which makes a
voyage begin under good auspices, and goes far toward keeping up a
better state of feeling throughout its continuance.

It only remains for me now to speak of the associated public efforts
which have been making of late years for the good of seamen: a far more
agreeable task than that of finding fault, even where fault there is.
The exertions of the general association, called the American Seamen's
Friend Society, and of the other smaller societies throughout the
Union, have been a true blessing to the seaman; and bid fair, in course
of time, to change the whole nature of the circumstances in which he is
placed, and give him a new name, as well as a new character.  These
associations have taken hold in the right way, and aimed both at making
the sailor's life more comfortable and creditable, and at giving him
spiritual instruction.  Connected with these efforts, the spread of
temperance among seamen, by means of societies, called, in their own
nautical language, Windward-Anchor Societies, and the distribution of
books; the establishment of Sailors' Homes, where they can be
comfortably and cheaply boarded, live quietly and decently, and be in
the way of religious services, reading and conversation; also the
institution of Savings Banks for Seamen; the distribution of tracts and
Bibles;--are all means which are silently doing a great work for this
class of men.  These societies make the religious instruction of seamen
their prominent object.  If this is gained, there is no fear but that
all other things necessary will be added unto them. A sailor never
becomes interested in religion, without immediately learning to read,
if he did not know how before; and regular habits, forehandedness (if I
may use the word) in worldly affairs, and hours reclaimed from
indolence and vice, which follow in the wake of the converted man, make
it sure that he will instruct himself in the knowledge necessary and
suitable to his calling.  The religious change is the great object.  If
this is secured, there is no fear but that knowledge of things of the
world will come in fast enough. With the sailor, as with all other men
in fact, the cultivation of the intellect, and the spread of what is
commonly called useful knowledge, while religious instruction is
neglected, is little else than changing an ignorant sinner into an
intelligent and powerful one.  That sailor upon whom, of all others,
the preaching of the Cross is least likely to have effect, is the one
whose understanding has been cultivated, while his heart has been left
to its own devices.  I fully believe that those efforts which have
their end in the intellectual cultivation of the sailor; in giving him
scientific knowledge; putting it in his power to read everything,
without securing, first of all, a right heart which shall guide him in
judgment; in giving him political information, and interesting him in
newspapers;--an end in the furtherance of which he is exhibited at
ladies' fairs and public meetings, and complimented for his gallantry
and generosity,--are all doing a harm which the labors of many faithful
men cannot undo.

The establishment of Bethels in most of our own seaports, and in many
foreign ports frequented by our vessels, where the gospel is regularly
preached and the opening of "Sailors' Homes," which I have before
mentioned, where there are usually religious services and other good
influences, are doing a vast deal in this cause.  But it is to be
remembered that the sailor's home is on the deep.  Nearly all his life
must be spent on board ship; and to secure a religious influence there,
should be the great object.  The distribution of Bibles and tracts into
cabins and forecastles, will do much toward this.  There is nothing
which will gain a sailor's attention sooner, and interest him more
deeply, than a tract, especially one which contains a story.  It is
difficult to engage their attention in mere essays and arguments, but
the simplest and shortest story, in which home is spoken of, kind
friends, a praying mother or sister, a sudden death, and the like,
often touches the heart of the roughest and most abandoned.  The Bible
is to the sailor a sacred book.  It may lie in the bottom of his chest,
voyage after voyage; but he never treats it with positive disrespect.
I never knew but one sailor who doubted its being the inspired word of
God; and he was one who had received an uncommonly good education,
except that he had been brought up without any early religious
influence.  The most abandoned man of our crew, one Sunday morning,
asked one of the boys to lend him his Bible.  The boy said he would,
but was afraid he would make sport of it.  "No!" said the man, "I don't
make sport of God Almighty."  This is a feeling general among sailors,
and is a good foundation for religious influence.

A still greater gain is made whenever, by means of a captain who is
interested in the eternal welfare of those under his command, there can
be secured the performance of regular religious exercises, and the
exertion, on the side of religion, of that mighty influence which a
captain possesses for good, or for evil.  There are occurrences at sea
which he may turn to great account,--a sudden death, the apprehension
of danger, or the escape from it, and the like; and all the calls for
gratitude and faith.  Besides, this state of thing alters the whole
current of feeling between the crew and their commander. His authority
assumes more of the parental character; and kinder feelings exist.
Godwin, though an infidel, in one of his novels, describing the
relation in which a tutor stood to his pupil, says that the conviction
the tutor was under, that he and his ward were both alike awaiting a
state of eternal happiness or misery, and that they must appear
together before the same judgment-seat, operated so upon his naturally
morose disposition, as to produce a feeling of kindness and tenderness
toward his ward, which nothing else could have caused.  Such must be
the effect upon the relation of master and common seaman.

There are now many vessels sailing under such auspices, in which great
good is done.  Yet I never happened to fall in with one of them.  I did
not hear a prayer made, a chapter read in public, nor see anything
approaching to a religious service, for two years and a quarter.  There
were, in the course of the voyage, many incidents which made, for the
time, serious impressions upon our minds, and which might have been
turned to our good; but there being no one to use the opportunity, and
no services, the regular return of which might have kept something of
the feeling alive in us, the advantage of them was lost, to some,
perhaps, forever.

The good which a single religious captain may do can hardly be
calculated.  In the first place, as I have said, a kinder state of
feeling exists on board the ship.  There is no profanity allowed; and
the men are not called by any opprobrious names, which is a great thing
with sailors.  The Sabbath is observed.  This gives the men a day of
rest, even if they pass it in no other way.  Such a captain, too, will
not allow a sailor on board his ship to remain unable to read his Bible
and the books given to him; and will usually instruct those who need
it, in writing, arithmetic, and navigation; since he has a good deal of
time on his hands, which he can easily employ in such a manner.  He
will also have regular religious services; and, in fact, by the power
of his example, and, where it can judiciously be done, by the exercise
of his authority, will give a character to the ship and all on board.
In foreign ports, a ship is known by her captain; for, there being no
general rules in the merchant service, each master may adopt a plan of
his own.  It is to be remembered, too, that there are, in most ships,
boys of a tender age, whose characters for life are forming, as well as
old men, whose lives must be drawing toward a close.  The greater part
of sailors die at sea; and when they find their end approaching, if it
does not, as is often the case, come without warning, they cannot, as
on shore, send for a clergyman, or some religious friend, to speak to
them of that hope in a Saviour, which they have neglected, if not
despised, through life; but if the little hull does not contain such an
one within its compass, they must be left without human aid in their
great extremity.  When such commanders and such ships, as I have just
described, shall become more numerous, the hope of the friends of
seamen will be greatly strengthened; and it is encouraging to remember
that the efforts among common sailors will soon raise up such a class;
for those of them who are brought under these influences will
inevitably be the ones to succeed to the places of trust and authority.
If there is on earth an instance where a little leaven may leaven the
whole lump, it is that of the religious shipmaster.

It is to the progress of this work among seamen that we must look with
the greatest confidence for the remedying of those numerous minor evils
and abuses that we so often hear of.  It will raise the character of
sailors, both as individuals and as a class. It will give weight to
their testimony in courts of justice, secure better usage to them on
board ship, and add comforts to their lives on shore and at sea.  There
are some laws that can be passed to remove temptation from their way
and to help them in their progress; and some changes in the
jurisdiction of the lower courts, to prevent delays, may, and probably
will, be made. But, generally speaking, more especially in things which
concern the discipline of ships, we had better labor in this great
work, and view with caution the proposal of new laws and arbitrary
regulations, remembering that most of those concerned in the making of
them must necessarily be little qualified to judge of their operation.

Without any formal dedication of my narrative to that body of men, of
whose common life it is intended to be a picture, I have yet borne them
constantly in mind during its preparation.  I cannot but trust that
those of them, into whose hands it may chance to fall, will find in it
that which shall render any professions of sympathy and good wishes on
my part unnecessary.  And I will take the liberty, on parting with my
reader, who has gone down with us to the ocean, and "laid his hand upon
its mane," to commend to his kind wishes, and to the benefit of his
efforts, that class of men with whom, for a time, my lot was cast.  I
wish the rather to do this, since I feel that whatever attention this
book may gain, and whatever favor it may find, I shall owe almost
entirely to that interest in the sea, and those who follow it, which is
so easily excited in us all.



[1] I am not sure that I have stated, in the course of my narrative,
the manner in which sailors eat, on board ship.  There are neither
tables, knives, forks, nor plates, in a forecastle; but the kid (a
wooden tub, with iron hoops) is placed on the floor and the crew sit
round it, and each man cuts for himself with the common jack-knife or
sheath-knife, that he carries about him.  They drink their tea out of
tin pots, holding little less than a quart each.

These particulars are not looked upon as hardships, and, indeed, may be
considered matters of choice.  Sailors, in our merchantmen, furnish
their own eating utensils, as they do many of the instruments which
they use in the ship's work, such as knives, palms and needles,
marline-spikes, rubbers, etc. And considering their mode of life in
other respects, the little time they would have for laying and clearing
away a table with its apparatus, and the room it would take up in a
forecastle, as well as the simple character of their meals, consisting
generally of only one piece of meat,--it is certainly a convenient
method, and, as the kid and pans are usually kept perfectly clean, a
neat and simple one.  I had supposed these things to be generally
known, until I heard, a few months ago, a lawyer of repute, who has had
a good deal to do with marine cases, ask a sailor upon the stand
whether the crew had "got up from table" when a certain thing happened.




TWENTY-FOUR YEARS AFTER

It was in the winter of 1835-6 that the ship Alert, in the prosecution
of her voyage for hides on the remote and almost unknown coast of
California, floated into the vast solitude of the Bay of San Francisco.
All around was the stillness of nature.  One vessel, a Russian, lay at
anchor there, but during our whole stay not a sail came or went.  Our
trade was with remote Missions, which sent hides to us in launches
manned by their Indians.  Our anchorage was between a small island,
called Yerba Buena, and a gravel beach in a little bight or cove of the
same name, formed by two small projecting points.  Beyond, to the
westward of the landing-place, were dreary sand-hills, with little
grass to be seen, and few trees, and beyond them higher hills, steep
and barren, their sides gullied by the rains.  Some five or six miles
beyond the landing-place, to the right, was a ruinous Presidio, and
some three or four miles to the left was the Mission of Dolores, as
ruinous as the Presidio, almost deserted, with but few Indians attached
to it, and but little property in cattle.  Over a region far beyond our
sight there were no other human habitations, except that an
enterprising Yankee, years in advance of his time, had put up, on the
rising ground above the landing, a shanty of rough boards, where he
carried on a very small retail trade between the hide ships and the
Indians. Vast banks of fog, invading us from the North Pacific, drove
in through the entrance, and covered the whole bay; and when they
disappeared, we saw a few well-wooded islands, the sand-hills on the
west, the grassy and wooded <DW72>s on the east, and the vast stretch of
the bay to the southward, where we were told lay the Missions of Santa
Clara and San Jose, and still longer stretches to the northward and
northeastward, where we understood smaller bays spread out, and large
rivers poured in their tributes of waters. There were no settlements on
these bays or rivers, and the few ranchos and Missions were remote and
widely separated.  Not only the neighborhood of our anchorage, but the
entire region of the great bay, was a solitude.  On the whole coast of
California there was not a lighthouse, a beacon, or a buoy, and the
charts were made up from old and disconnected surveys by British,
Russian, and Mexican voyagers.  Birds of prey and passage swooped and
dived about us, wild beasts ranged through the oak groves, and as we
slowly floated out of the harbor with the tide, herds of deer came to
the water's edge, on the northerly side of the entrance, to gaze at the
strange spectacle.

On the evening of Saturday, the 13th of August, 1859, the superb
steamship Golden Gate, gay with crowds of passengers, and lighting the
sea for miles around with the glare of her signal lights of red, green,
and white, and brilliant with lighted saloons and staterooms, bound up
from the Isthmus of Panama, neared the entrance to San Francisco, the
great centre of a world-wide commerce.  Miles out at sea, on the
desolate rocks of the Farallones, gleamed the powerful rays of one of
the most costly and effective light-houses in the world.  As we drew in
through the Golden Gate, another light-house met our eyes, and in the
clear moonlight of the unbroken California summer we saw, on the right,
a large fortification protecting the narrow entrance, and just before
us the little island of Alcatraz confronted us,--one entire fortress.
We bore round the point toward the old anchoring-ground of the hide
ships, and there, covering the sand-hills and the valleys, stretching
from the water's edge to the base of the great hills, and from the old
Presidio to the Mission, flickering all over with the lamps of its
streets and houses, lay a city of one hundred thousand inhabitants.
Clocks tolled the hour of midnight from its steeples, but the city was
alive from the salute of our guns, spreading the news that the
fortnightly steamer had come, bringing mails and passengers from the
Atlantic world.  Clipper ships of the largest size lay at anchor in the
stream, or were girt to the wharves; and capacious high-pressure
steamers, as large and showy as those of the Hudson or Mississippi,
bodies of dazzling light, awaited the delivery of our mails to take
their courses up the Bay, stopping at Benicia and the United States
Naval Station, and then up the great tributaries--the Sacramento, San
Joaquin, and Feather Rivers--to the far inland cities of Sacramento,
Stockton, and Marysville.

The dock into which we drew, and the streets about it, were densely
crowded with express wagons and hand-carts to take luggage, coaches and
cabs for passengers, and with men,--some looking out for friends among
our hundreds of passengers,--agents of the press, and a greater
multitude eager for newspapers and verbal intelligence from the great
Atlantic and European world.  Through this crowd I made my way, along
the well-built and well-lighted streets, as alive as by day, where boys
in high-keyed voices were already crying the latest New York papers;
and between one and two o'clock in the morning found myself comfortably
abed in a commodious room, in the Oriental Hotel, which stood, as well
as I could learn, on the filled-up cove, and not far from the spot
where we used to beach our boats from the Alert.

Sunday, August 14th.  When I awoke in the morning, and looked from my
windows over the city of San Francisco, with its storehouses, towers,
and steeples; its court-houses, theatres, and hospitals; its daily
journals; its well-filled learned professions; its fortresses and
light-houses; its wharves and harbor, with their thousand-ton clipper
ships, more in number than London or Liverpool sheltered that day,
itself one of the capitals of the American Republic, and the sole
emporium of a new world, the awakened Pacific; when I looked across the
bay to the eastward, and beheld a beautiful town on the fertile, wooded
shores of the Contra Costa, and steamers, large and small, the
ferryboats to the Contra Costa, and capacious freighters and
passenger-carriers to all parts of the great bay and its tributaries,
with lines of their smoke in the horizon,--when I saw all these things,
and reflected on what I once was and saw here, and what now surrounded
me, I could scarcely keep my hold on reality at all, or the genuineness
of anything, and seemed to myself like one who had moved in "worlds not
realized."

I could not complain that I had not a choice of places of worship. The
Roman Catholics have an archbishop, a cathedral, and five or six
smaller churches, French, German, Spanish, and English; and the
Episcopalians, a bishop, a cathedral, and three other churches; the
Methodists and Presbyterians have three or four each, and there are
Congregationalists, Baptists, a Unitarian, and other societies.  On my
way to church, I met two classmates of mine at Harvard standing in a
door-way, one a lawyer and the other a teacher, and made appointments
for a future meeting.  A little farther on I came upon another Harvard
man, a fine scholar and wit, and full of cleverness and good-humor, who
invited me to go to breakfast with him at the French house--he was a
bachelor, and a late riser on Sundays.  I asked him to show me the way
to Bishop Kip's church.  He hesitated, looked a little confused, and
admitted that he was not as well up in certain classes of knowledge as
in others, but, by a desperate guess, pointed out a wooden building at
the foot of the street, which any one might have seen could not be
right, and which turned out to be an African Baptist meeting-house. But
my friend had many capital points of character, and I owed much of the
pleasure of my visit to his attentions.

The congregation at the Bishop's church was precisely like one you
would meet in New York, Philadelphia, or Boston.  To be sure, the
identity of the service makes one feel at once at home, but the people
were alike, nearly all of the English race, though from all parts of
the Union.  The latest French bonnets were at the head of the chief
pews, and business men at the foot.  The music was without character,
but there was an instructive sermon, and the church was full.

I found that there were no services at any of the Protestant churches
in the afternoon.  They have two services on Sunday; at 11 A. M., and
after dark.  The afternoon is spent at home, or in friendly visiting,
or teaching of Sunday Schools, or other humane and social duties.

This is as much the practice with what at home are called the strictest
denominations as with any others.  Indeed, I found individuals, as well
as public bodies, affected in a marked degree by a change of oceans and
by California life.  One Sunday afternoon I was surprised at receiving
the card of a man whom I had last known, some fifteen years ago, as a
strict and formal deacon of a Congregational Society in New England.
He was a deacon still, in San Francisco, a leader in all pious works,
devoted to his denomination and to total abstinence,--the same
internally, but externally--what a change!  Gone was the downcast eye,
the bated breath, the solemn, non-natural voice, the watchful gait,
stepping as if he felt responsible for the balance of the moral
universe!  He walked with a stride, an uplifted open countenance, his
face covered with beard, whiskers, and mustache, his voice strong and
natural;--and, in short, he had put off the New England deacon and
become a human being.  In a visit of an hour I learned much from him
about the religious societies, the moral reforms, the
"Dashaways,"--total abstinence societies, which had taken strong hold
on the young and wilder parts of society,--and then of the Vigilance
Committee, of which he was a member, and of more secular points of
interest.

In one of the parlors of the hotel, I saw a man of about sixty years of
age, with his feet bandaged and resting in a chair, whom somebody
addressed by the name of Lies.[1]  Lies! thought I, that must be the
man who came across the country from Kentucky to Monterey while we lay
there in the Pilgrim in 1835, and made a passage in the Alert, when he
used to shoot with his rifle bottles hung from the top-gallant
studding-sail-boom-ends.  He married the beautiful Dona Rosalia
Vallejo, sister of Don Guadalupe.  There were the old high features and
sandy hair.  I put my chair beside him, and began conversation, as any
one may do in California.  Yes, he was the Mr. Lies; and when I gave my
name he professed at once to remember me, and spoke of my book.  I
found that almost--I might perhaps say quite--every American in
California had read it; for when California "broke out," as the phrase
is, in 1848, and so large a portion of the Anglo-Saxon race flocked to
it, there was no book upon California but mine.  Many who were on the
coast at the time the book refers to, and afterwards read it, and
remembered the Pilgrim and Alert, thought they also remembered me.  But
perhaps more did remember me than I was inclined at first to believe,
for the novelty of a collegian coming out before the mast had drawn
more attention to me than I was aware of at the time.

Late in the afternoon, as there were vespers at the Roman Catholic
churches, I went to that of Notre Dame des Victoires.  The congregation
was French, and a sermon in French was preached by an Abbe; the music
was excellent, all things airy and tasteful, and making one feel as if
in one of the chapels in Paris.  The Cathedral of St. Mary, which I
afterwards visited, where the Irish attend, was a contrast indeed, and
more like one of our stifling Irish Catholic churches in Boston or New
York, with intelligence in so small a proportion to the number of
faces.  During the three Sundays I was in San Francisco, I visited
three of the Episcopal churches, and the Congregational, a Chinese
Mission Chapel, and on the Sabbath (Saturday) a Jewish synagogue. The
Jews are a wealthy and powerful class here.  The Chinese, too, are
numerous, and do a great part of the manual labor and small
shop-keeping, and have some wealthy mercantile houses.

It is noticeable that European Continental fashions prevail generally
in this city,--French cooking, lunch at noon, and dinner at the end of
the day, with cafe noir after meals, and to a great extent the European
Sunday,--to all which emigrants from the United States and Great
Britain seem to adapt themselves.  Some dinners which were given to me
at French restaurants were, it seemed to me,--a poor judge of such
matters, to be sure,--as sumptuous and as good, in dishes and wines, as
I have found in Paris.  But I had a relish-maker which my friends at
table did not suspect--the remembrance of the forecastle dinners I ate
here twenty-four years before.

August 17th.  The customs of California are free; and any person who
knows about my book speaks to me.  The newspapers have announced the
arrival of the veteran pioneer of all.  I hardly walk out without
meeting or making acquaintances.  I have already been invited to
deliver the anniversary oration before the Pioneer Society, to
celebrate the settlement of San Francisco.  Any man is qualified for
election into the society who came to California before 1853. What
moderns they are!  I tell them of the time when Richardson's shanty of
1835--not his adobe house of 1836--was the only human habitation
between the Mission and the Presidio, and when the vast bay, with all
its tributaries and recesses, was a solitude,--and yet I am but little
past forty years of age.  They point out the place where Richardson's
adobe house stood, and tell me that the first court and first town
council were convened in it, the first Protestant worship performed in
it, and in it the first capital trial by the Vigilance Committee held.
I am taken down to the wharves, by antiquaries of a ten or twelve
years' range, to identify the two points, now known as Clark's and
Rincon, which formed the little cove of Yerba Buena, where we used to
beach our boats,--now filled up and built upon.  The island we called
"Wood Island," where we spent the cold days and nights of December, in
our launch, getting wood for our year's supply, is clean shorn of
trees; and the bare rocks of Alcatraz Island, an entire fortress.  I
have looked at the city from the water and islands from the city, but I
can see nothing that recalls the times gone by, except the venerable
Mission, the ruinous Presidio, the high hills in the rear of the town,
and the great stretches of the bay in all directions.

To-day I took a California horse of the old style,--the run, the loping
gait,--and visited the Presidio.  The walls stand as they did, with
some changes made to accommodate a small garrison of United States
troops.  It has a noble situation, and I saw from it a clipper ship of
the very largest class, coming through the Gate, under her fore-and-aft
sails.  Thence I rode to the Fort, now nearly finished, on the southern
shore of the Gate, and made an inspection of it.  It is very expensive
and of the latest style. One of the engineers here is Custis Lee, who
has just left West Point at the head of his class,--a son of Colonel
Robert E. Lee, who distinguished himself in the Mexican War.

Another morning I ride to the Mission Dolores.  It has a strangely
solitary aspect, enhanced by its surroundings of the most uncongenial,
rapidly growing modernisms; the hoar of ages surrounded by the
brightest, slightest, and rapidest of modern growths.  Its old belfries
still clanged with the discordant bells, and Mass was saying within,
for it is used as a place of worship for the extreme south part of the
city.

In one of my walks about the wharves, I found a pile of dry hides lying
by the side of a vessel.  Here was something to feelingly persuade me
what I had been, to recall a past scarce credible to myself.  I stood
lost in reflection.  What were these hides--what were they not?--to us,
to me, a boy, twenty-four years ago? These were our constant labor, our
chief object, our almost habitual thought.  They brought us out here,
they kept us here, and it was only by getting them that we could escape
from the coast and return to home and civilized life.  If it had not
been that I might be seen, I should have seized one, slung it over my
head, walked off with it, and thrown it by the old toss--I do not
believe yet a lost art--to the ground.  How they called up to my mind
the months of curing at San Diego, the year and more of beach and surf
work, and the steering of the ship for home! I was in a dream of San
Diego, San Pedro--with its hills so steep for taking up goods, and its
stones so hard to our bare feet--and the cliffs of San Juan!  All this,
too, is no more!  The entire hide-business is of the past, and to the
present inhabitants of California a dim tradition.  The gold
discoveries drew off all men from the gathering or cure of hides, the
inflowing population made an end of the great droves of cattle; and now
not a vessel pursues the--I was about to say dear--the dreary once
hated business of gathering hides upon the coast, and the beach of San
Diego is abandoned and its hide-houses have disappeared.  Meeting a
respectable-looking citizen on the wharf, I inquired of him how the
hide-trade was carried on.  "O," said he, "there is very little of it,
and that is all here.  The few that are brought in are placed under
sheds in winter, or left out on the wharf in summer, and are loaded
from the wharves into the vessels alongside.  They form parts of
cargoes of other materials."  I really felt too much, at the instant,
to express to him the cause of my interest in the subject, and only
added, "Then the old business of trading up and down the coast and
curing hides for cargoes is all over?" "O yes, sir," said he, "those
old times of the Pilgrim and Alert and California, that we read about,
are gone by."

Saturday, August 20th.  The steamer Senator makes regular trips up and
down the coast, between San Francisco and San Diego, calling at
intermediate ports.  This is my opportunity to revisit the old scenes.
She sails to-day, and I am off, steaming among the great clippers
anchored in the harbor, and gliding rapidly round the point, past
Alcatraz Island, the light-house, and through the fortified Golden
Gate, and bending to the southward,--all done in two or three hours,
which, in the Alert, under canvas, with head tides, variable winds, and
sweeping currents to deal with, took us full two days.

Among the passengers I noticed an elderly gentleman, thin, with sandy
hair and face that seemed familiar.  He took off his glove and showed
one shrivelled hand.  It must be he!  I went to him and said, "Captain
Wilson, I believe."  Yes, that was his name. "I knew you, sir, when you
commanded the Ayacucho on this coast, in old hide-droghing times, in
1835-6."  He was quickened by this, and at once inquiries were made on
each side, and we were in full talk about the Pilgrim and Alert,
Ayacucho and Loriotte, the California and Lagoda.  I found he had been
very much flattered by the praise I had bestowed in my book on his
seamanship, especially in bringing the Pilgrim to her berth in San
Diego harbor, after she had drifted successively into the Lagoda and
Loriotte, and was coming into him. I had made a pet of his brig, the
Ayacucho, which pleased him almost as much as my remembrance of his
bride and their wedding, which I saw at Santa Barbara in 1836.  Dona
Ramona was now the mother of a large family, and Wilson assured me that
if I would visit him at his rancho, near San Luis Obispo, I should find
her still a handsome woman, and very glad to see me.  How we walked the
deck together, hour after hour, talking over the old times,--the ships,
the captains, the crews, the traders on shore, the ladies, the
Missions, the SOUTH-EASTERs! indeed, where could we stop?  He had sold
the Ayacucho in Chili for a vessel of war, and had given up the sea,
and had been for years a ranchero.  (I learned from others that he had
become one of the most wealthy and respectable farmers in the State,
and that his rancho was well worth visiting.)  Thompson, he said,
hadn't the sailor in him; and he never could laugh enough at his fiasco
in San Diego, and his reception by Bradshaw.  Faucon was a sailor and a
navigator.  He did not know what had become of George Marsh (ante, pp.
199-202, 252), except that he left him in Callao; nor could he tell me
anything of handsome Bill Jackson (ante, p. 86), nor of Captain Nye of
the Loriotte.  I told him all I then knew of the ships, the masters,
and the officers.  I found he had kept some run of my history, and
needed little information. Old Senor Noriego of Santa Barbara, he told
me, was dead, and Don Carlos and Don Santiago, but I should find their
children there, now in middle life.  Dona Augustia, he said, I had made
famous by my praises of her beauty and dancing, and I should have from
her a royal reception.  She had been a widow, and remarried since, and
had a daughter as handsome as herself.  The descendants of Noriego had
taken the ancestral name of De la Guerra, as they were nobles of Old
Spain by birth; and the boy Pablo, who used to make passages in the
Alert, was now Don Pablo de la Guerra, a Senator in the State
Legislature for Santa Barbara County.

The points in the country, too, he noticed, as he passed them,--Santa
Cruz, San Luis Obispo, Point Ano Nuevo, the opening to Monterey, which
to my disappointment we did not visit. No; Monterey, the prettiest town
on the coast, and its capital and seat of customs, had got no advantage
from the great changes, was out of the way of commerce and of the
travel to the mines and great rivers, and was not worth stopping at.
Point Conception we passed in the night, a cheery light gleaming over
the waters from its tar light-house, standing on its outermost peak.
Point Conception!  That word was enough to recall all our experiences
and dreads of gales, swept decks, topmast carried away, and the
hardships of a coast service in the winter.  But Captain Wilson tells
me that the climate has altered; that the SOUTH-EASTERs are no longer
the bane of the coast they once were, and that vessels now anchor
inside the kelp at Santa Barbara and San Pedro all the year round.  I
should have thought this owing to his spending his winters on a rancho
instead of the deck of the Ayacucho, had not the same thing been told
me by others.

Passing round Point Conception, and steering easterly, we opened the
islands that form, with the main-land, the canal of Santa Barbara.
There they are, Santa Cruz and Santa Rosa; and there is the beautiful
point, Santa Buenaventura; and there lies Santa Barbara on its plain,
with its amphitheatre of high hills and distant mountains.  There is
the old white Mission with its belfries, and there the town, with its
one-story adobe houses, with here and there a two-story wooden house of
later build; yet little is it altered,--the same repose in the golden
sunlight and glorious climate, sheltered by its hills; and then, more
remindful than anything else, there roars and tumbles upon the beach
the same grand surf of the great Pacific as on the beautiful day when
the Pilgrim, after her five months' voyage, dropped her weary anchors
here; the same bright blue ocean, and the surf making just the same
monotonous, melancholy roar, and the same dreamy town, and gleaming
white Mission, as when we beached our boats for the first time, riding
over the breakers with shouting Kanakas, the three small hide-traders
lying at anchor in the offing.  But now we are the only vessel, and
that an unromantic, sail-less, spar-less, engine-driven hulk!

I landed in the surf, in the old style, but it was not high enough to
excite us, the only change being that I was somehow unaccountably a
passenger, and did not have to jump overboard and steady the boat, and
run her up by the gunwales.

Santa Barbara has gained but little.  I should not know, from anything
I saw, that she was now a seaport of the United States, a part of the
enterprising Yankee nation, and not still a lifeless Mexican town. At
the same old house, where Senor Noriego lived, on the piazza in front
of the court-yard, where was the gay scene of the marriage of our
agent, Mr. Robinson, to Dona Anita, where Don Juan Bandini and Dona
Augustia danced, Don Pablo de la Guerra received me in a courtly
fashion.  I passed the day with the family, and in walking about the
place; and ate the old dinner with its accompaniments of frijoles,
native olives and grapes, and native wines.  In due time I paid my
respects to Dona Augustia, and notwithstanding what Wilson told me, I
could hardly believe that after twenty-four years there would still be
so much of the enchanting woman about her.

She thanked me for the kind and, as she called them, greatly
exaggerated compliments I had paid her; and her daughter told me that
all travellers who came to Santa Barbara called to see her mother, and
that she herself never expected to live long enough to be a belle.

Mr. Alfred Robinson, our agent in 1835-6, was here, with a part of his
family.  I did not know how he would receive me, remembering what I had
printed to the world about him at a time when I took little thought
that the world was going to read it; but there was no sign of offence,
only cordiality which gave him, as between us, rather the advantage in
status.

The people of this region are giving attention to sheep-raising,
wine-making, and the raising of olives, just enough to keep the town
from going backwards.

But evening is drawing on, and our boat sails to-night.  So, refusing a
horse or carriage, I walk down, not unwilling to be a little early,
that I may pace up and down the beach, looking off to the islands and
the points, and watching the roaring, tumbling billows.  How softening
is the effect of time!  It touches us through the affections.  I almost
feel as if I were lamenting the passing away of something loved and
dear,--the boats, the Kanakas, the hides, my old shipmates.  Death,
change, distance, lend them a character which makes them quite another
thing from the vulgar, wearisome toil of uninteresting, forced manual
labour.

The breeze freshened as we stood out to sea, and the wild waves rolled
over the red sun, on the broad horizon of the Pacific; but it is
summer, and in summer there can be no bad weather in California.  Every
day is pleasant.  Nature forbids a drop of rain to fall by day or
night, or a wind to excite itself beyond a fresh summer breeze.

The next morning we found ourselves at anchor in the Bay of San Pedro.
Here was this hated, this thoroughly detested spot. Although we lay
near, I could scarce recognize the hill up which we rolled and dragged
and pushed and carried our heavy loads, and down which we pitched the
hides, to carry them barefooted over the rocks to the floating
long-boat.  It was no longer the landing-place.  One had been made at
the head of the creek, and boats discharged and took off cargoes from a
mole or wharf, in a quiet place, safe from SOUTH-EASTERs.  A tug ran to
take off passengers from the steamer to the wharf,--for the trade of
Los Angeles is sufficient to support such a vessel.  I got the captain
to land me privately, in a small boat, at the old place by the hill. I
dismissed the boat, and, alone, found my way to the high ground. I say
found my way, for neglect and weather had left but few traces of the
steep road the hide-vessels had built to the top. The cliff off which
we used to throw the hides, and where I spent nights watching them, was
more easily found.  The population was doubled, that is to say, there
were two houses, instead of one, on the hill.  I stood on the brow and
looked out toward the offing, the Santa Catalina Island, and, nearer,
the melancholy Dead Man's Island, with its painful tradition, and
recalled the gloomy days that followed the flogging, and fancied the
Pilgrim at anchor in the offing.  But the tug is going toward our
steamer, and I must awake and be off.  I walked along the shore to the
new landing-place, where were two or three store-houses and other
buildings, forming a small depot; and a stage-coach, I found, went
daily between this place and the Pueblo.  I got a seat on the top of
the coach, to which were tackled six little less than wild California
horses.  Each horse had a man at his head, and when the driver had got
his reins in hand he gave the word, all the horses were let go at once,
and away they went on a spring, tearing over the ground, the driver
only keeping them from going the wrong way, for they had a wide, level
pampa to run over the whole thirty miles to the Pueblo. This plain is
almost treeless, with no grass, at least none now in the drought of
mid-summer, and is filled with squirrel-holes, and alive with
squirrels.  As we changed horses twice, we did not slacken our speed
until we turned into the streets of the Pueblo.

The Pueblo de los Angeles I found a large and flourishing town of about
twenty thousand inhabitants, with brick sidewalks, and blocks of stone
or brick houses.  The three principal traders when we were here for
hides in the Pilgrim and Alert are still among the chief traders of the
place,--Stearns, Temple, and Warner, the two former being reputed very
rich.  I dined with Mr. Stearns, now a very old man, and met there Don
Juan Bandini, to whom I had given a good deal of notice in my book.
From him, as indeed from every one in this town, I met with the kindest
attentions.  The wife of Don Juan, who was a beautiful young girl when
we were on the coast, Dona Refugio, daughter of Don Santiago Argueello,
the commandante of San Diego, was with him, and still handsome.  This
is one of several instances I have noticed of the preserving quality of
the California climate.  Here, too, was Henry Mellus, who came out with
me before the mast in the Pilgrim, and left the brig to be agent's
clerk on shore.  He had experienced varying fortunes here, and was now
married to a Mexican lady, and had a family.  I dined with him, and in
the afternoon he drove me round to see the vineyards, the chief objects
in this region.  The vintage of last year was estimated at half a
million of gallons.  Every year new square miles of ground are laid
down to vineyards, and the Pueblo promises to be the centre of one of
the largest wine-producing regions in the world.  Grapes are a drug
here, and I found a great abundance of figs, olives, peaches, pears,
and melons. The climate is well suited to these fruits, but is too hot
and dry for successful wheat crops.

Towards evening, we started off in the stage coach, with again our
relays of six mad horses, and reached the creek before dark, though it
was late at night before we got on board the steamer, which was slowly
moving her wheels, under way for San Diego.

As we skirted along the coast, Wilson and I recognized, or thought we
did, in the clear moonlight, the rude white Mission of San Juan
Capistrano, and its cliff, from which I had swung down by a pair of
halyards to save a few hides,--a boy who could not be prudential, and
who caught at every chance for adventure.

As we made the high point off San Diego, Point Loma, we were greeted by
the cheering presence of a light-house.  As we swept round it in the
early morning, there, before us, lay the little harbor of San Diego,
its low spit of sand, where the water runs so deep; the opposite flats,
where the Alert grounded in starting for home; the low hills, without
trees, and almost without brush; the quiet little beach;--but the chief
objects, the hide houses, my eye looked for in vain.  They were gone,
all, and left no mark behind.

I wished to be alone, so I let the other passengers go up to the town,
and was quietly pulled ashore in a boat, and left to myself. The
recollections and the emotions all were sad, and only sad.

  Fugit, interea fugit irreparabile tempus.

The past was real.  The present, all about me, was unreal, unnatural,
repellant.  I saw the big ships lying in the stream, the Alert, the
California, the Rosa, with her Italians; then the handsome Ayacucho, my
favorite; the poor, dear old Pilgrim, the home of hardship and
hopelessness; the boats passing to and fro; the cries of the sailors at
the capstan or falls; the peopled beach; the large hide-houses with
their gangs of men; and the Kanakas interspersed everywhere.  All, all
were gone! not a vestige to mark where one hide-house stood.  The oven,
too, was gone.  I searched for its site, and found, where I thought it
should be, a few broken bricks and bits of mortar.  I alone was left of
all, and how strangely was I here!  What changes to me!  Where were
they all?  Why should I care for them,--poor Kanakas and sailors, the
refuse of civilization, the outlaws and beach-combers of the Pacific!
Time and death seemed to transfigure them.  Doubtless nearly all were
dead; but how had they died, and where?  In hospitals, in fever-climes,
in dens of vice, or falling from the mast, or dropping exhausted from
the wreck,--

  "When for a moment, like a drop of rain,
  He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,
  Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown."

The light-hearted boys are now hardened middle-aged men, if the seas,
rocks, fevers, and the deadlier enemies that beset a sailor's life on
shore have spared them; and the then strong men have bowed themselves,
and the earth or sea has covered them.

Even the animals are gone,--the colony of dogs, the broods of poultry,
the useful horses; but the coyotes bark still in the woods, for they
belong not to man, and are not touched by his changes.

I walked slowly up the hill, finding my way among the few bushes, for
the path was long grown over, and sat down where we used to rest in
carrying our burdens of wood, and to look out for vessels that might,
though so seldom, be coming down from the windward.

To rally myself by calling to mind my own better fortune and nobler
lot, and cherished surroundings at home, was impossible.  Borne down by
depression, the day being yet at its noon, and the sun over the old
point--it is four miles to the town, the Presidio,--I have walked it
often, and can do it once more,--I passed the familiar objects, and it
seemed to me that I remembered them better than those of any other
place I had ever been in;--the opening to the little cave; the low
hills where we cut wood and killed rattlesnakes, and where our dogs
chased the coyotes; and the black ground where so many of the ship's
crew and beach-combers used to bring up on their return at the end of a
liberty day, and spend the night sub Jove.

The little town of San Diego has undergone no change whatever that I
can see.  It certainly has not grown.  It is still, like Santa Barbara,
a Mexican town.  The four principal houses of the gente de razon--of
the Bandinis, Estudillos, Argueellos, and Picos--are the chief houses
now; but all the gentlemen--and their families, too, I believe--are
gone.  The big vulgar shop-keeper and trader, Fitch, is long since
dead; Tom Wrightington, who kept the rival pulperia, fell from his
horse when drunk, and was found nearly eaten up by coyotes; and I can
scarce find a person whom I remember. I went into a familiar one-story
adobe house, with its piazza and earthen floor, inhabited by a
respectable lower-class family by the name of Muchado, and inquired if
any of the family remained, when a bright-eyed middle-aged woman
recognized me, for she had heard I was on board the steamer, and told
me she had married a shipmate of mine, Jack Stewart, who went out as
second mate the next voyage, but left the ship and married and settled
here.  She said he wished very much to see me.  In a few minutes he
came in, and his sincere pleasure in meeting me was extremely grateful.
We talked over old times as long as I could afford to.  I was glad to
hear that he was sober and doing well.  Dona Tomasa Pico I found and
talked with.  She was the only person of the old upper class that
remained on the spot, if I rightly recollect.  I found an American
family here, with whom I dined,--Doyle and his wife, nice young people,
Doyle agent for the great line of coaches to run to the frontier of the
old States.

I must complete my acts of pious remembrance, so I take a horse and
make a run out to the old Mission, where Ben Stimson and I went the
first liberty day we had after we left Boston (ante, p. 115).  All has
gone to decay.  The buildings are unused and ruinous, and the large
gardens show now only wild cactuses, willows, and a few olive-trees.  A
fast run brings me back in time to take leave of the few I knew and who
knew me, and to reach the steamer before she sails.  A last look--yes,
last for life--to the beach, the hills, the low point, the distant
town, as we round Point Loma and the first beams of the light-house
strike out towards the setting sun.

Wednesday, August 24th.  At anchor at San Pedro by daylight. But
instead of being roused out of the forecastle to row the long-boat
ashore and bring off a load of hides before breakfast, we were served
with breakfast in the cabin, and again took our drive with the wild
horses to the Pueblo and spent the day; seeing nearly the same persons
as before, and again getting back by dark.  We steamed again for Santa
Barbara, where we only lay an hour, and passed through its canal and
round Point Conception, stopping at San Luis Obispo to land my friend,
as I may truly call him after this long passage together, Captain
Wilson, whose most earnest invitation to stop here and visit him at his
rancho I was obliged to decline.

Friday evening, 26th August, we entered the Golden Gate, passed the
light-houses and forts, and clipper ships at anchor, and came to our
dock, with this great city, on its high hills and rising surfaces,
brilliant before us, and full of eager life.

Making San Francisco my head-quarters, I paid visits to various parts
of the State,--down the Bay to Santa Clara, with its live oaks and
sycamores, and its Jesuit College for boys; and San Jose, where is the
best girls' school in the State, kept by the Sisters of Notre Dame,--a
town now famous for a year's session of "The legislature of a thousand
drinks,"--and thence to the rich Almaden quicksilver mines, returning
on the Contra Costa side through the rich agricultural country, with
its ranchos and the vast grants of the Castro and Soto families, where
farming and fruit-raising are done on so large a scale.  Another
excursion was up the San Joaquin to Stockton, a town of some ten
thousand inhabitants, a hundred miles from San Francisco, and crossing
the Tuolumne and Stanislaus and Merced, by the little Spanish town of
Hornitos, and Snelling's Tavern, at the ford of the Merced, where so
many fatal fights are had.  Thence I went to Mariposa County, and
Colonel Fremont's mines, and made an interesting visit to "the
Colonel," as he is called all over the country, and Mrs. Fremont, a
heroine equal to either fortune, the salons of Paris and the
drawing-rooms of New York and Washington, or the roughest life of the
remote and wild mining regions of Mariposa,--with their fine family of
spirited, clever children.  After a rest there, we went on to Clark's
Camp and the Big Trees, where I measured one tree ninety-seven feet in
circumference without its bark, and the bark is usually eighteen inches
thick; and rode through another which lay on the ground, a shell, with
all the insides out--rode through it mounted, and sitting at full
height in the saddle; then to the wonderful Yo Semite Valley,--itself a
stupendous miracle of nature, with its Dome, its Capitan, its walls of
three thousand feet of perpendicular height,--but a valley of streams,
of waterfalls from the torrent to the mere shimmer of a bridal veil,
only enough to reflect a rainbow, with their plunges of twenty-five
hundred feet, or their smaller falls of eight hundred, with nothing at
the base but thick mists, which form and trickle, and then run and at
last plunge into the blue Merced that flows through the centre of the
valley.  Back by the Coulterville trail, the peaks of Sierra Nevada in
sight, across the North Fork of the Merced, by Gentry's Gulch, over
hills and through canons, to Fremont's again, and thence to Stockton
and San Francisco--all this at the end of August, when there has been
no rain for four months, and the air is dear and very hot, and the
ground perfectly dry; windmills, to raise water for artificial
irrigation of small patches, seen all over the landscape, while we
travel through square miles of hot dust, where they tell us, and truly
that in winter and early spring we should be up to our knees in
flowers; a country, too, where surface gold-digging is so common and
unnoticed that the large, six-horse stage-coach, in which I travelled
from Stockton to Hornitos, turned off in the high road for a Chinaman,
who, with his pan and washer, was working up a hole which an American
had abandoned, but where the minute and patient industry of the
Chinaman averaged a few dollars a day.

These visits were so full of interest, with grandeurs and humors of all
sorts, that I am strongly tempted to describe them.  But I remember
that I am not to write a journal of a visit over the new California,
but to sketch briefly the contrasts with the old spots of 1835-6, and I
forbear.

How strange and eventful has been the brief history of this marvellous
city, San Francisco!  In 1835 there was one board shanty.  In 1836, one
adobe house on the same spot.  In 1847, a population of four hundred
and fifty persons, who organized a town government.  Then came the auri
sacra fames, the flocking together of many of the worst spirits of
Christendom; a sudden birth of a city of canvas and boards, entirely
destroyed by fire five times in eighteen months, with a loss of sixteen
millions of dollars, and as often rebuilt, until it became a solid city
of brick and stone, of nearly one hundred thousand inhabitants, with
all the accompaniments of wealth and culture, and now (in 1859) the
most quiet and well-governed city of its size in the United States.
But it has been through its season of Heaven-defying crime, violence,
and blood, from which it was rescued and handed back to soberness,
morality, and good government, by that peculiar invention of
Anglo-Saxon Republican America, the solemn, awe-inspiring Vigilance
Committee of the most grave and responsible citizens, the last resort
of the thinking and the good, taken to only when vice, fraud, and
ruffianism have intrenched themselves behind the forms of law,
suffrage, and ballot, and there is no hope but in organized force,
whose action must be instant and thorough, or its state will be worse
than before.  A history of the passage of this city through those
ordeals, and through its almost incredible financial extremes, should
be written by a pen which not only accuracy shall govern, but
imagination shall inspire.

I cannot pause for the civility of referring to the many kind
attentions I received, and the society of educated men and women from
all parts of the Union I met with; where New England, the Carolinas,
Virginia, and the new West sat side by side with English, French, and
German civilization.

My stay in California was interrupted by an absence of nearly four
months, when I sailed for the Sandwich Islands in the noble Boston
clipper ship Mastiff, which was burned at sea to the water's edge; we
escaping in boats, and carried by a friendly British bark into
Honolulu, whence, after a deeply interesting visit of three months in
that most fascinating group of islands, with its natural and its moral
wonders, I returned to San Francisco in an American whaler, and found
myself again in my quarters on the morning of Sunday, December 11th,
1859.

My first visit after my return was to Sacramento, a city of about forty
thousand inhabitants, more than a hundred miles inland from San
Francisco, on the Sacramento, where was the capital of the State, and
where were fleets of river steamers, and a large inland commerce.  Here
I saw the inauguration of a Governor, Mr. Latham, a young man from
Massachusetts, much my junior; and met a member of the State Senate, a
man who, as a carpenter, repaired my father's house at home some ten
years before; and two more Senators from southern California, relics of
another age,--Don Andres Pico, from San Diego; and Don Pablo de la
Guerra, whom I have mentioned as meeting at Santa Barbara.  I had a
good deal of conversation with these gentlemen, who stood alone in an
assembly of Americans, who had conquered their country, spared pillars
of the past.  Don Andres had fought us at San Pazqual and Sepulveda's
rancho, in 1846, and as he fought bravely, not a common thing among the
Mexicans, and, indeed, repulsed Kearney, is always treated with
respect.  He had the satisfaction, dear to the proud Spanish heart, of
making a speech before a Senate of Americans, in favor of the retention
in office of an officer of our army who was wounded at San Pazqual and
whom some wretched caucus was going to displace to carry out a
political job.  Don Andres's magnanimity and indignation carried the
day.

My last visit in this part of the country was to a new and rich farming
region, the Napa Valley, the United States Navy Yard at Mare Island,
the river gold workings, and the Geysers, and old Mr. John Yount's
rancho.  On board the steamer, found Mr. Edward Stanley, formerly
member of Congress from North Carolina, who became my companion for the
greater part of my trip.  I also met--a revival on the spot of an
acquaintance of twenty years ago--Don Guadalupe Vallejo; I may say
acquaintance, for although I was then before the mast, he knew my
story, and, as he spoke English well, used to hold many conversations
with me, when in the boat or on shore. He received me with true
earnestness, and would not hear of my passing his estate without
visiting him. He reminded me of a remark I made to him once, when
pulling him ashore in the boat, when he was commandante at the
Presidio. I learned that the two Vallejos, Guadalupe and Salvador,
owned, at an early time, nearly all Napa and Sonoma, having princely
estates.  But they have not much left.  They were nearly ruined by
their bargain with the State, that they would put up the public
buildings if the Capital should be placed at Vallejo, then a town of
some promise. They spent $100,000, the Capital was moved there, and in
two years removed to San Jose on another contract.  The town fell to
pieces, and the houses, chiefly wooden, were taken down and removed. I
accepted the old gentleman's invitation so far as to stop at Vallejo to
breakfast.

The United States Navy Yard, at Mare Island, near Vallejo, is large and
well placed, with deep fresh water.  The old Independence, and the
sloop Decatur, and two steamers were there, and they were experimenting
on building a despatch boat, the Saginaw, of California timber.

I have no excuse for attempting to describe my visit through the
fertile and beautiful Napa Valley, nor even, what exceeded that in
interest, my visit to old John Yount at his rancho, where I heard from
his own lips some of his most interesting stories of hunting and
trapping and Indian fighting, during an adventurous life of forty years
of such work, between our back settlements in Missouri and Arkansas,
and the mountains of California, trapping in Colorado and Gila,--and
his celebrated dream, thrice repeated, which led him to organize a
party to go out over the mountains, that did actually rescue from death
by starvation the wretched remnants of the Donner party.

I must not pause for the dreary country of the Geysers, the screaming
escapes of steam, the sulphur, the boiling caldrons of black and yellow
and green, and the region of Gehenna, through which runs a quiet stream
of pure water; nor for the park scenery, and captivating ranchos of the
Napa Valley, where farming is done on so grand a scale--where I have
seen a man plough a furrow by little red flags on sticks, to keep his
range by, until nearly out of sight, and where, the wits tell us, he
returns the next day on the back furrow; a region where, at Christmas
time, I have seen old strawberries still on the vines, by the side of
vines in full blossom for the next crop, and grapes in the same stages,
and open windows, and yet a grateful wood fire on the hearth in early
morning; nor for the titanic operations of hydraulic surface mining,
where large mountain streams are diverted from their ancient beds, and
made to do the work, beyond the reach of all other agents, of washing
out valleys and carrying away hills, and changing the whole surface of
the country, to expose the stores of gold hidden for centuries in the
darkness of their earthly depths.

January 10th, 1860.  I am again in San Francisco, and my revisit to
California is closed.  I have touched too lightly and rapidly for much
impression upon the reader on my last visit into the interior; but, as
I have said, in a mere continuation to a narrative of a sea-faring life
on the coast, I am only to carry the reader with me on a visit to those
scenes in which the public has long manifested so gratifying an
interest.  But it seemed to me that slight notices of these entirely
new parts of the country would not be out of place, for they serve to
put in strong contrast with the solitudes of 1835-6 the developed
interior, with its mines, and agricultural wealth, and rapidly filling
population, and its large cities, so far from the coast, with their
education, religion, arts, and trade.

On the morning of the 11th January, 1860, I passed, for the eighth
time, through the Golden Gate, on my way across the delightful Pacific
to the Oriental world, with its civilization three thousand years older
than that I was leaving behind.  As the shores of California faded in
the distance, and the summits of the Coast Range sank under the blue
horizon, I bade farewell--yes, I do not doubt, forever--to those scenes
which, however changed or unchanged, must always possess an ineffable
interest for me.

------------------

It is time my fellow-travellers and I should part company.  But I have
been requested by a great many persons to give some account of the
subsequent history of the vessels and their crews, with which I had
made them acquainted.  I attempt the following sketches in deference to
these suggestions, and not, I trust, with any undue estimate of the
general interest my narrative may have created.

Something less than a year after my return in the Alert, and when, my
eyes having recovered, I was again in college life, I found one morning
in the newspapers, among the arrivals of the day before, "The brig
Pilgrim, Faucon, from San Diego, California."  In a few hours I was
down in Ann Street, and on my way to Hackstadt's boarding-house, where
I knew Tom Harris and others would lodge. Entering the front room, I
heard my name called from amid a group of blue-jackets, and several
sunburned, tar-<DW52> men came forward to speak to me.  They were, at
first, a little embarrassed by the dress and style in which they had
never seen me, and one of them was calling me Mr. Dana; but I soon
stopped that, and we were shipmates once more. First, there was Tom
Harris, in a characteristic occupation.  I had made him promise to come
and see me when we parted in San Diego; he had got a directory of
Boston, found the street and number of my father's house, and, by a
study of the plan of the city, had laid out his course, and was
committing it to memory.  He said he could go straight to the house
without asking a question.  And so he could, for I took the book from
him, and he gave his course, naming each street and turn to right or
left, directly to the door.

Tom had been second mate of the Pilgrim, and had laid up no mean sum of
money.  True to his resolution, he was going to England to find his
mother, and he entered into the comparative advantages of taking his
money home in gold or in bills,--a matter of some moment, as this was
in the disastrous financial year of 1837. He seemed to have his ideas
well arranged, but I took him to a leading banker, whose advice he
followed; and, declining my invitation to go up and show himself to my
friends, he was off for New York that afternoon, to sail the next day
for Liverpool. The last I ever saw of Tom Harris was as he passed down
Tremont Street on the sidewalk, a man dragging a hand-cart in the
street by his side, on which were his voyage-worn chest, his mattress,
and a box of nautical instruments.

Sam seemed to have got funny again, and he and John the Swede learned
that Captain Thompson had several months before sailed in command of a
ship for the coast of Sumatra, and that their chance of proceedings
against him at law was hopeless.  Sam was afterwards lost in a brig off
the coast of Brazil, when all hands went down.  Of John and the rest of
the men I have never heard. The Marblehead boy, Sam, turned out badly;
and, although he had influential friends, never allowed them to improve
his condition. The old carpenter, the Fin, of whom the cook stood in
such awe (ante p. 41), had fallen sick and died in Santa Barbara, and
was buried ashore.  Jim Hall, from the Kennebec, who sailed with us
before the mast, and was made second mate in Foster's place, came home
chief mate of the Pilgrim.  I have often seen him since.  His lot has
been prosperous, as he well deserved it should be.  He has commanded
the largest ships, and when I last saw him, was going to the Pacific
coast of South America, to take charge of a line of mail steamers.
Poor, luckless Foster I have twice seen.  He came into my rooms in
Boston, after I had become a barrister and my narrative had been
published, and told me he was chief mate of a big ship; that he had
heard I had said some things unfavorable of him in my book; that he had
just bought it, and was going to read it that night, and if I had said
anything unfair of him, he would punish me if he found me in State
Street. I surveyed him from head to foot, and said to him, "Foster, you
were not a formidable man when I last knew you, and I don't believe you
are now."  Either he was of my opinion, or thought I had spoken of him
well enough, for the next (and last) time I met him he was civil and
pleasant.

I believe I omitted to state that Mr. Andrew B. Amerzene, the chief
mate of the Pilgrim, an estimable, kind, and trustworthy man, had a
difficulty with Captain Faucon, who thought him slack, was turned off
duty, and sent home with us in the Alert.  Captain Thompson, instead of
giving him the place of a mate off duty, put him into the narrow
between-decks, where a space, not over four feet high, had been left
out among the hides, and there compelled him to live the whole
wearisome voyage, through trades and tropics, and round Cape Horn, with
nothing to do,--not allowed to converse or walk with the officers, and
obliged to get his grub himself from the galley, in the tin pot and kid
of a common sailor.  I used to talk with him as much as I had
opportunity to, but his lot was wretched, and in every way wounding to
his feelings.  After our arrival, Captain Thompson was obliged to make
him compensation for this treatment.  It happens that I have never
heard of him since.

Henry Mellus, who had been in a counting-house in Boston, and left the
forecastle, on the coast, to be agent's clerk, and whom I met, a
married man, at Los Angeles in 1859, died at that place a few years
ago, not having been successful in commercial life.  Ben Stimson left
the sea for the fresh water and prairies, and settled in Detroit as a
merchant, and when I visited that city, in 1863, I was rejoiced to find
him a prosperous and respected man, and the same generous-hearted
shipmate as ever.

This ends the catalogue of the Pilgrim's original crew, except her
first master, Captain Thompson.  He was not employed by the same firm
again, and got up a voyage to the coast of Sumatra for pepper.  A
cousin and classmate of mine, Mr. Channing, went as supercargo, not
having consulted me as to the captain.  First, Captain Thompson got
into difficulties with another American vessel on the coast, which
charged him with having taken some advantage of her in getting pepper;
and then with the natives, who accused him of having obtained too much
pepper for his weights.  The natives seized him, one afternoon, as he
landed in his boat, and demanded of him to sign an order on the
supercargo for the Spanish dollars that they said were due them, on
pain of being imprisoned on shore. He never failed in pluck, and now
ordered his boat aboard, leaving him ashore, the officer to tell the
supercargo to obey no direction except under his hand.  For several
successive days and nights, his ship, the Alciope, lay in the burning
sun, with rain-squalls and thunder-clouds coming over the high
mountains, waiting for a word from him.  Toward evening of the fourth
or fifth day he was seen on the beach, hailing for the boat.  The
natives, finding they could not force more money from him, were afraid
to hold him longer, and had let him go.  He sprang into the boat, urged
her off with the utmost eagerness, leaped on board the ship like a
tiger, his eyes flashing and his face full of blood, ordered the anchor
aweigh, and the topsails set, the four guns, two on a side, loaded with
all sorts of devilish stuff, and wore her round, and, keeping as close
into the bamboo village as he could, gave them both broadsides,
slam-bang into the midst of the houses and people, and stood out to
sea!  As his excitement passed off, headache, languor, fever, set
in,--the deadly coast-fever, contracted from the water and night-dews
on shore and his maddened temper.  He ordered the ship to Penang, and
never saw the deck again.  He died on the passage, and was buried at
sea.  Mr. Channing, who took care of him in his sickness and delirium,
caught the fever from him, but, as we gratefully remember, did not die
until the ship made port, and he was under the kindly roof of a
hospitable family in Penang.  The chief mate, also, took the fever, and
the second mate and crew deserted; and although the chief mate
recovered and took the ship to Europe and home, the voyage was a
melancholy disaster.  In a tour I made round the world in 1859-1860, of
which my revisit to California was the beginning, I went to Penang.  In
that fairy-like scene of sea and sky and shore, as beautiful as
material earth can be, with its fruits and flowers of a perpetual
summer,--somewhere in which still lurks the deadly fever,--I found the
tomb of my kinsman, classmate, and friend.  Standing beside his grave,
I tried not to think that his life had been sacrificed to the faults
and violence of another; I tried not to think too hardly of that other,
who at least had suffered in death.

The dear old Pilgrim herself!  She was sold, at the end of this voyage,
to a merchant in New Hampshire, who employed her on short voyages, and,
after a few years, I read of her total loss at sea, by fire, off the
coast of North Carolina.

Captain Faucon, who took out the Alert, and brought home the Pilgrim,
spent many years in command of vessels in the Indian and Chinese seas,
and was in our volunteer navy during the late war, commanding several
large vessels in succession, on the blockade of the Carolinas, with the
rank of lieutenant.  He has now given up the sea, but still keeps it
under his eye, from the piazza of his house on the most beautiful hill
in the environs of Boston. I have the pleasure of meeting him often.
Once, in speaking of the Alert's crew, in a company of gentlemen, I
heard him say that that crew was exceptional: that he had passed all
his life at sea, but whether before the mast or abaft, whether officer
or master, he had never met such a crew, and never should expect to;
and that the two officers of the Alert, long ago shipmasters, agreed
with him that, for intelligence, knowledge of duty and willingness to
perform it, pride in the ship, her appearance and sailing, and in
absolute reliableness, they never had seen their equal.  Especially he
spoke of his favorite seaman, French John.  John, after a few more
years at sea, became a boatman, and kept his neat boat at the end of
Granite Wharf, and was ready to take all, but delighted to take any of
us of the old Alert's crew, to sail down the harbor.  One day Captain
Faucon went to the end of the wharf to board a vessel in the stream,
and hailed for John.  There was no response, and his boat was not
there.  He inquired of a boatman near, where John was.  The time had
come that comes to all!  There was no loyal voice to respond to the
familiar call, the hatches had closed over him, his boat was sold to
another, and he had left not a trace behind.  We could not find out
even where he was buried.

Mr. Richard Brown, of Marblehead, our chief mate in the Alert,
commanded many of our noblest ships in the European trade, a general
favorite.  A few years ago, while stepping on board his ship from the
wharf, he fell from the plank into the hold and was killed.  If he did
not actually die at sea, at least he died as a sailor,--he died on
board ship.

Our second mate, Evans, no one liked or cared for, and I know nothing
of him, except that I once saw him in court, on trial for some alleged
petty tyranny towards his men,--still a subaltern officer.

The third mate, Mr. Hatch, a nephew of one of the owners, though only a
lad on board the ship, went out chief mate the next voyage, and rose
soon to command some of the finest clippers in the California and India
trade, under the new order of things,--a man of character, good
judgment, and no little cultivation.

Of the other men before the mast in the Alert, I know nothing of
peculiar interest.  When visiting, with a party of ladies and
gentlemen, one of our largest line-of-battle ships, we were escorted
about the decks by a midshipman, who was explaining various matters on
board, when one of the party came to me and told me that there was an
old sailor there with a whistle round his neck, who looked at me and
said of the officer, "he can't show him anything aboard a ship."  I
found him out, and, looking into his sunburnt face, covered with hair,
and his little eyes drawn up into the smallest passages for
light,--like a man who had peered into hundreds of northeasters,--there
was old "Sails" of the Alert, clothed in all the honors of
boatswain's-mate. We stood aside, out of the cun of the officers, and
had a good talk over old times.  I remember the contempt with which he
turned on his heel to conceal his face, when the midshipman (who was a
grown youth) could not tell the ladies the length of a fathom, and said
it depended on circumstances.  Notwithstanding his advice and
consolation to "Chips," in the steerage of the Alert, and his story of
his runaway wife and the flag-bottomed chairs (ante, p. 249), he
confessed to me that he had tried marriage again, and had a little
tenement just outside the gate of the yard.

Harry Bennett, the man who had the palsy, and was unfeelingly left on
shore when the Alert sailed, came home in the Pilgrim, and I had the
pleasure of helping to get him into the Massachusetts General Hospital.
When he had been there about a week, I went to see him in his ward, and
asked him how he got along.  "Oh! first-rate usage, sir; not a hand's
turn to do, and all your grub brought to you, sir."  This is a sailor's
paradise,--not a hand's turn to do, and all your grub brought to you.
But an earthly paradise may pall.  Bennett got tired of in-doors and
stillness, and was soon out again, and set up a stall, covered with
canvas, at the end of one of the bridges, where he could see all the
passers-by, and turn a penny by cakes and ale.  The stall in time
disappeared, and I could learn nothing of his last end, if it has come.

Of the lads who, beside myself, composed the gig's crew, I know
something of all but one.  Our bright-eyed, quick-witted little
cockswain, from the Boston public schools, Harry May, or Harry Bluff,
as he was called, with all his songs and gibes, went the road to ruin
as fast as the usual means could carry him.  Nat, the "bucket-maker,"
grave and sober, left the seas, and, I believe, is a hack-driver in his
native town, although I have not had the luck to see him since the
Alert hauled into her berth at the North End.

One cold winter evening, a pull at the bell, and a woman in distress
wished to see me.  Her poor son George,--George Somerby,--"you remember
him, sir; he was a boy in the Alert; he always talks of you,--he is
dying in my poor house."  I went with her, and in a small room, with
the most scanty furniture, upon a mattress on the floor,--emaciated,
ashy pale, with hollow voice and sunken eyes,--lay the boy George, whom
we took out a small, bright boy of fourteen from a Boston public
school, who fought himself into a position on board ship (ante, p.
231), and whom we brought home a tall, athletic youth, that might have
been the pride and support of his widowed mother.  There he lay, not
over nineteen years of age, ruined by every vice a sailor's life
absorbs.  He took my hand in his wasted feeble fingers, and talked a
little with his hollow, death-smitten voice.  I was to leave town the
next day for a fortnight's absence, and whom had they to see to them?
The mother named her landlord,--she knew no one else able to do much
for them.  It was the name of a physician of wealth and high social
position, well known in the city as the owner of many small tenements,
and of whom hard things had been said as to his strictness in
collecting what he thought his dues.  Be that as it may, my memory
associates him only with ready and active beneficence.  His name has
since been known the civilized world over, from his having been the
victim of one of the most painful tragedies in the records of the
criminal law.  I tried the experiment of calling upon him; and, having
drawn him away from the cheerful fire, sofa, and curtains of a
luxurious parlor, I told him the simple tale of woe, of one of his
tenants, unknown to him even by name.  He did not hesitate; and I well
remember how, in that biting, eager air, at a late hour, he drew his
cloak about his thin and bent form, and walked off with me across the
Common, and to the South End, nearly two miles of an exposed walk, to
the scene of misery.  He gave his full share, and more, of kindness and
material aid; and, as George's mother told me, on my return, had with
medical aid and stores, and a clergyman, made the boy's end as
comfortable and hopeful as possible.

The Alert made two more voyages to the coast of California, successful,
and without a mishap, as usual, and was sold by Messrs. Bryant and
Sturgis, in 1843, to Mr. Thomas W. Williams, a merchant of New London,
Connecticut, who employed her in the whale-trade in the Pacific.  She
was as lucky and prosperous there as in the merchant service.  When I
was at the Sandwich Islands in 1860, a man was introduced to me as
having commanded the Alert on two cruises, and his friends told me that
he was as proud of it as if he had commanded a frigate.

I am permitted to publish the following letter from the owner of the
Alert, giving her later record and her historic end,--captured and
burned by the rebel Alabama:--


New London, March 17, 1868.

Richard H. Dana, Esq.:

Dear Sir,--I am happy to acknowledge the receipt of your favor of the
14th inst., and to answer your inquiries about the good ship Alert.  I
bought her of Messrs. Bryant and Sturgis in the year 1843, for my firm
of Williams and Haven, for a whaler, in which business she was
successful until captured by the rebel steamer Alabama, September,
1862, making a period of more than nineteen years, during which she
took and delivered at New London upwards of twenty-five thousand
barrels of whale and sperm oil.  She sailed last from this port, August
30, 1862, for Hurd's Island (the newly discovered land south of
Kerguelen's), commanded by Edwin Church, and was captured and burned on
the 9th of September following, only ten days out, near or close to the
Azores, with thirty barrels of sperm oil on board, and while her boats
were off in pursuit of whales.

The Alert was a favorite ship with all owners, officers, and men who
had anything to do with her; and I may add almost all who heard her
name asked if that was the ship the man went in who wrote the book
called "Two Years before the Mast"; and thus we feel, with you, no
doubt, a sort of sympathy at her loss, and that, too, in such a manner,
and by wicked acts of our own countrymen.

My partner, Mr. Haven, sends me a note from the office this P. M.,
saying that he had just found the last log-book, and would send up this
evening a copy of the last entry on it; and if there should be anything
of importance I will enclose it to you, and if you have any further
inquiries to put, I will, with great pleasure, endeavor to answer them.

Remaining very respectfully and truly yours,

THOMAS W. WILLIAMS.

P. S.--Since writing the above I have received the extract from the
log-book, and enclose the same.


THE LAST ENTRY IN THE LOG-BOOK OF THE ALERT.

"September 9, 1862.

"Shortly after the ship came to the wind, with the main yard aback, we
went alongside and were hoisted up, when we found we were prisoners of
war, and our ship a prize to the Confederate steamer Alabama.  We were
then ordered to give up all nautical instruments and letters
appertaining to any of us.  Afterwards we were offered the privilege,
as they called it, of joining the steamer or signing a parole of honor
not to serve in the army or navy of the United States.  Thank God no
one accepted the former of these offers.  We were all then ordered to
get our things ready in haste, to go on shore,--the ship running off
shore all the time.  We were allowed four boats to go on shore in, and
when we had got what things we could take in them, were ordered to get
into the boats and pull for the shore,--the nearest land being about
fourteen miles off,--which we reached in safety, and, shortly after,
saw the ship in flames.

"So end all our bright prospects, blasted by a gang of miscreants, who
certainly can have no regard for humanity so long as they continue to
foster their so-called peculiar institution, which is now destroying
our country."


I love to think that our noble ship, with her long record of good
service and uniform success, attractive and beloved in her life, should
have passed, at her death, into the lofty regions of international
jurisprudence and debate, forming a part of the body of the "Alabama
Claims"; that, like a true ship, committed to her element once for all
at her launching, she perished at sea, and, without an extreme use of
language, we may say, a victim in the cause of her country.

R. H. D., Jr.

BOSTON, May 6, 1869.


[1] Pronounced _Leese_.











End of Project Gutenberg's Two Years Before the Mast, by Richard Henry Dana

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