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
señora 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, Año 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 razón," 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 (12½ 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 Españolos, 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
negroes.  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
negroes; 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
slope.  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 negro 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 negro-driver! I'll see who'll tell me he isn't a negro
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