 Chapter 8 of Two Years Before the Mast. As we saw on either land or sail from the time of leaving Juan Fernandez until our arrival in California, nothing of interest occurred except our own doings on board. We caught the southeast trades and ran before them for nearly three weeks without so much as altering a sail or bracing a yard. The captain took advantage of this fine weather to get the vessel in order for coming upon the coast. The carpenter was employed in fitting up a part of the steerage into a trade room for our cargo we now learned was not to be landed, but to be sold by retail on board, and this trade room was built for the samples and the lighter goods to be kept in, and as a place for the general business. In the meantime, we were employed in working upon the rigging. Everything was set up taut, the lower rigging rattled down, or rather rattled up, according to the modern fashion, and abundance of spun yarn and seizing stuff made, and finally the whole standing rigging, fore and aft, was tarred down. It was my first essay at the latter business, and I had enough of it, for nearly all of it came upon my friend Stimson and myself. The men were needed at the other work, and Henry Mellis, the other young man who came out with us before the mast, was laid up with rheumatism in his feet, and the boy Sam was rather too young and small for the business, and as the winds were light and regular he was kept during most of the daytime at the helm, so that we had quite as much as we wished of it. We put on short duck frocks, and, taking a small bucket of tar and a bunch of oakum in our hands, went aloft. One at the main royal mast head, and the other at the fore, and began tarring down. This is an important operation, and is usually done about once in six months in vessels upon a long voyage. It was done in our vessel several times afterwards, but by the whole crew at once, and finished off in a day. But at this time as most of it, as I have said, came upon two of us, and we were new at the business, it took several days. In this operation they always began at the mast head and worked down, tarring the shrouds, backstays, standing part of the lifts, the ties, runners, etc., and go out to the yard arms and come in, tarring as they come, the lifts and foot ropes. Tarring the stays is more difficult, and is done by an operation which the sailors call writing down. A long piece of rope, top gallant-setting cell halyards, or something of the kind, is taken up to the mast head from which the stay leads, and roved through a block for a gert line, or as the sailors usually call it, a gantlin. With the end of this a bowlin is taken round the stay, into which the man gets with his bucket of tar and bunch of oakum, and the other end being fast on deck, with someone to tend it, he is lowered down gradually, and tarrs the stays carefully as he goes. There he swings aloft to ex-heaven and earth, and at the rope slips, breaks, or is let go, or if the bowlin slips he falls overboard or breaks his neck. This, however, is a thing which never enters into the sailors' calculation. He only thinks of leaving no holy days, place is not tarred, for, in case he should, he would have to go over the hole again, or of dropping no tar upon the deck, for then there would be a soft word in his ear from the mate. In this manner I tarred down all the headstays, but found the rigging about the jib-booms, martingale, and spritzill-yard upon which I was afterwards put, the hardest. Here you have to hang on with your eyelids and tar with your hands. This dirty work could not last forever, and on Saturday night we finished it, scraped all the spots from the deck and rails, and what was of more importance to us cleaned ourselves thoroughly, rolled up our tarry-frocks and trousers, and laid them away from the next occasion, and put on our clean-duck clothes and had a good comfortable sailor Saturday night. The next day was pleasant, and indeed have it one unpleasant Sunday during the whole voyage, and that was off Cape Horn, where we could expect nothing better. On Monday we began painting and getting the vessel ready for port. This work, too, is done by the crew, and every sailor who has been long voyages is a little of a painter, in addition to his other accomplishments. We painted her both inside and out, from the truck to the water's edge. The outside is painted by lowering stages over the side by ropes, and on those we sat with our brushes and paint-pots by us and our feet half the time in the water. This must be done, of course, on a smooth day, when the vessel does not roll much. I remember very well being over the side painting in this way one fine afternoon. Our vessel going quietly along at the rate of four or five knots, and a pilot fish, the sure precursor of a shark, swimming alongside of us. The captain was leaning over the rail watching him, and we went quietly on with our work. In the midst of our painting on Friday, December 19th, we crossed the equator for the second time. I had the sense of incongruity which all have when, for the first time, they find themselves living under an entire change of seasons, as crossing the line under a burning sun in the midst of December. Thursday, December 25th. This day was Christmas, but it brought us no holiday. The only change was that we had a plumb duff for dinner, and the crew quarreled with the steward, because he did not give us our usual allowance of molasses to eat with it. He thought the plums would be a substitute for the molasses, but we were not to be cheated out of our rights in that way. Such are the trifles which produce quarrels on ship-board. In fact, we had been too long from port. We were getting tired of one another, and were in an irritable state both forward and aft. Our fresh provisions were, of course, gone, and the captain had stopped our rise, so that we had nothing but salt- beef and salt-pork throughout the week, with the exception of a very small duff on Sunday. This added to the discontent, and many little things, daily and almost hourly occurring, which no one who has not himself been on a long and tedious voyage can conceive of or properly appreciate, little wars and rumors of wars, reports of things said in the cabin. Misunderstanding of words and looks, apparent abuses, brought us into a condition in which everything seemed to go wrong. Every encroachment upon the time allowed for rest appeared unnecessary. Every shifting of the setting sails was only to haze the crew. Haze is a word of frequent use on board ship. It is very expressive to a sailor, and means to punish by hard work. Let an officer once say, I'll haze you, and your fate is fixed. You will be worked up if you are not a better man than he is. In the midst of this state of things, my messmate Stimson and I petitioned the captain for leave to shift our births from the steerage, where we had previously lived, into the folk-soul. This to our delight was granted, and we turned in to bunk and mess with the crew steward. We now begin to feel like sailors, which we never fully did when we were in the steerage. While there, however useful and active you may be, you are but a mongrel, a sort of afterguard and ship's cousin. You are immediately under the eye of the officers, cannot dance, sing, play, smoke, make a noise, or growl, or take any other sailor's pleasure. And you live with the steward, who is usually a go-between, and the crew never feel as though you were one of them. But if you live in the folk-soul, you are as independent as a wood-soyer's clerk, Nautica, and are a sailor. You hear sailors talk, learn their ways, their peculiarities of feeling as well as speaking and acting, and, moreover, pick up a great deal of curious and useful information and steamship, ships, customs, foreign countries, etc., from their long yarns and equally long disputes. No man can be a sailor, or know what sailors are, unless he has lived in the folk-soul with them, turned in and out with them, and eaten from the common kid. After I'd been a week there, nothing would have tempted me to go back to my old birth, and never afterwards, even in the worst of weather, when in a close and leaking folk-soul off Cape Horn, did I for a moment wish myself on the steerage. Another thing which you can learn better in the folk-soul than you can anywhere else is to make and mend clothes, and this is indispensable to sailors. A large part of their watch is below they spend at this work, and here I learn the art myself, which stood me in so good stead afterwards. But to return to the state of the crew, upon our coming into the folk-soul there was some difficulty about the uniting of the allowances of bread, by which we thought we were to lose a few pounds. This set us into a ferment. The captain would not condescend to explain, and we went after in a body, with John the Swede, the oldest and best sailor of the crew, for spokesmen. The recollection of the scene that followed always brings up a smile, especially the quarter-deck dignity and elocution of the captain. He was walking on the weather side of the quarter-deck, and seeing us coming aft, stopped short in his walk, and with a voice and look intended to annihilate us, called out, Well, what the devil do you want now? Whereupon we stated our grievances as respectfully as we could, but he broke in upon us, saying that we were getting fat and lazy, didn't have enough to do, and it was that which made us find a fault. This provoked us, and we began to give word for word. This would never answer. He clenched his fist, stamped and swore, and ordered us all forward, saying with oaths interspersed, to send the words home. Away with you. Go forward, every one of you. I'll haze you. I'll work you up. You don't have enough to do. If you ain't careful, I'll make a hell of heaven. You've mistaken your man. I'm Frank Thompson all the way from down east. I've been through the mill, ground and bolted, and come out a regular built down east Johnny cake. When it's hot, damn good, but when it's cold, damn sour and indigestible, and you'll find me so. The latter part of this harangue made a strong impression, and the down east Johnny cake became a byword for the rest of the voyage, and on the coast of California after our arrival. One of his nicknames in all the ports was the down east Johnny cake. So much for our petition for the redress of grievances. The matter was, however, set right, for the mate, after allowing the captain due time to cool off, explained it to him, and at eight we were called af to hear another harangue, in which, of course, the whole blame of the misunderstanding was thrown upon us. We ventured to hint that he would not give us the time to explain, but it wouldn't do. We were driven back, discomfited. Thus the affair blew over, but the irritation caused by it remained, and we never had peace or a good understanding again so long as the captain and the crew remained together. We continue selling along in the beautiful temperate climate of the Pacific. The Pacific well deserves its name for except in the southern part at Cape Horn, and in the western parts near the China and Indian oceans it has few storms, and is never either extremely hot or cold. Between the tropics there is a slight haziness, like a thin gauze drawn over the sun, which, without obstructing or obscuring the light, tempers the heat, which comes down with perpendicular fierceness in the Atlantic and Indian tropics. We sell well to the westward to have the full advantage of the northeast trades, and when we had reached the latitude of point conception, where it is usual to make the land, we were several hundred miles to the westward of it. We immediately changed our course due east, and sailed in that direction for a number of days. At length we began to heave to after dark, for fear of making the land at night, on a coast where there are no lighthouses, and but indifferent charts. And at daybreak on the morning of Tuesday, January 13th, 1835, we made the land at point conception, latitude 34 degrees, 32 minutes north, longitude 120 degrees, 30 minutes west. The port of Santa Barbara, to which we were bound, lying about 50 miles to the southward of this point. We continued sailing down the coast during the day and following night, and on the next morning, January 14th, we came to anchor in the spacious bay of Santa Barbara, after a voyage of 150 days from Boston. End of Chapter 8, Chapter 9 of Two Years Before the Mast. This, the bravox recording, is in the public domain. Two Years Before the Mast, by Richard Henry Dana Jr. Chapter 9, Santa Barbara. California extends along nearly the whole of the western coast of Mexico, between the Gulf of California in the south, and the Bay of San Francisco on the north, or between a 22nd and 38th degrees of north latitude. It is a subdivision into two provinces, lower or old California, lying between the Gulf and 32nd degree of latitude, the division line running, I believe, between the Bay of Toro Santos and the port of San Diego. The new or upper California, the southernmost port of Wichita, San Diego, in latitude 30 degrees, 39 minutes, and the northernmost, San Francisco, situated in the large bay, discovered by Sir Francis Drake in latitude 37 degrees, 58 minutes, and now known as the Bay of San Francisco, so named, I suppose, by Franciscan missionaries. Upper California has a seat of government in 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 begin its traffic. We were to trade upon this coast exclusively, and therefore expected to go first to Monterey. 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 transacts all the business for the firm to which our vessel belonged. The bay, or as it is commonly called, the canal of Santa Barbara, is very large, being formed by the mainland on one side, between Point Conception on the north and Point Santa Buena Ventura on the south, which here bends in like a crescent, and by three large islands opposite to it, and at the distance of some twenty miles. These points are just sufficient to give it the name of a bay, while at the same time there is so large, and so much exposed to the southeast and northwest winds, that it is little better than an open roadstead, and the whole swell of the Pacific Ocean rolls in here before southeaster, and breaks so heavy a surf in the shallow waters that it is highly dangerous to lie near end to the shore during the southeaster season. That is between the months of November and April. This wind, the southeaster, 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 those ports which are open to it, the 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 in the middle of the southeaster season, we 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 yardarm gaskets from the cells, 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 seemed a long time to be in sight and out of reach of land. We spent the day on board in the usual duties, 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 country we had got into, and were to pass a year or two of our lives in. It was a beautiful day, and so warm that we wore straw hats, duck trousers, and all the summer gear. 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 southeasterly 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 that went ashore told us that the long groundswell broke into a heavy surf on the beach. There was only one vessel on the port, a long, sharp rig of about three hundred tons, with raking mass 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 Scotsman named Wilson, who commanded her, and was engaged in the trade between Calo and other ports of South America and California. She was a fast seller, as we frequently afterwards saw, and had a crew of sandwich islanders on board. Besides 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 has a mission upon it, called Santa Buena Ventura, from which the point is named. In the middle of this Crescent, directly opposite the anchoring ground, lie the mission in town of Santa Barbara, on a low plain, but a little above the level of the sea, covered with grass, though entirely without trees, and surrounded on three sides by an ample theater 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 collection of buildings, in the center of which is a high tower. The mission stands a little back of the town, and is a large building, or rather collection of buildings, in the center of which is a high tower, with a bell free of five bells. 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 sun-baked clay, or adobe. Some of them whitewashed with red tiles on the roofs. I should judge that there were about a hundred of them, and in the midst of them stands the prosidio, or fort, built of the same materials, and apparently, but little stronger. The town is finely situated, with a bay in front, and an ample theater 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 ago, and they had not yet grown 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 sundown, 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, and 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 comers 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, came alongside of us, with a crew of dusky sandwich islanders talking and hallowing 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 matter stood, they gave a shout, and taken advantage of a great comer which came swelling in, rearing its head, and lifting up the sterns of our boats nearly perpendicular, and again dropping them in the trough. They gave three or four long and strong pulls, and went in on the 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 the boat touched the beach, they seized hold of her by the gunnel, on each side, and ran her up high and dry upon the sand. We saw at once how the thing was to be done, and also the necessity of keeping the boat stern out to sea. For the instant the sea should strike upon her broadside or quarter, she would be driven up broadside on and capsized. We pulled strongly in, and as soon as we felt the sea had got hold of us, and was carrying us in with the speed of a racehorse, we threw the oars as far from the boat as we could, and took hold of the gunnels, ready to spring out and seize her when she struck, the officer using his utmost strength with his steering oar to keep her stern out. We were shot up upon the beach, and seizing the boat ran her up high and dry, and picking up our oars 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 towards the ends. It is about twenty yards in width from high watermark 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 are rolling in regular lines, growing larger and larger as they approach 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 the child's long card-house falls when a card is knocked down at the end. The Sandwich Islanders in the meantime 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 so far into the water that every large sea might float her, and two of them, with their trousers rolled up, stood by the boughs, 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 bullock 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, in which one of their numbers 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 woollen caps. Look here, Bill, and see what you're coming to, said one of our men to another who stood by the boat. Well, Dana, said the second mate to me, this does not look much like Harvard College, does it, but it is what I call headwork, to tell the truth it did not look very encouraging. After they had got through the hides, the Canacas laid hold of the bags of talov. The bags are made of hide and are about the size of a common meal bag, and lifted each upon the shoulders of two men, one at each end, who walked off with them to the boat, when all 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 two after oars sat upon their benches, with their oars shipped, ready to strike out as soon as she was afloat. The two men remained standing at the boughs, and when, at length, a large sea came in and floated her, seized hold of the gunnels, and ran out with her till they were up to their armpits, and then tumbled over the gunnels into the boughs, 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 hallowing and bawling, 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 shipmasters commonly called, to come down. In a few minutes we heard something coming towards us. It was a man on horseback. He came on the full gallop, reigned up near us, addressed a few words to us, and, receiving no answer, wheeled round and galloped off again. He was nearly as dark as an Indian, with a large Spanish hat, blanket cloak or syrupy, and leather leggings 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. Stun boy, said John, you have not 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 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 neared it, we found had been run up to our tri-sil gaff. Coming aboard, we hoisted up all the boats, and, diving down into the folk-sil, 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., 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. All hands were to be called at daybreak, and the word was passed to keep a bright look out. The second mate was to keep the deck until eight o'clock. 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 southeast. We had also orders to strike the bells every half hour through the night as at sea. My watchmate was John, the sweetest sailor, and we stood from twelve to two, he walking the larbored side and eye 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 Iacuccio 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 salt. While at dinner the cook called, SAIL HALL! and, coming on deck, we saw two sails bearing 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 of 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 a laureate, captain Nye, from Oahu, and was engaged in the hide-and-tallow trade. She was a lump of a thing, with a sailor's 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 mass to do the work upon the rigging, and to be relied 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 has neither of 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 chief officer is too easy and familiar with the crew, he begins to interfere in all the duties, and to draw the reins more taut, and the crew have to suffer. CHAPTER X A SOUTH EASTER 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, 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 from the southeast, 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, prepared for an instant summons. In a few minutes it came, three knocks on the scuttle, and ALL HANDS A HOI, BEAR A HAND UP AND MAKE SALE BEAR A HAND IS TO MAKE HAST We sprang for our clothes, and were about half 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. Lail off, and lose the topsoils. Shattered the captain, as soon as the first man showed himself. Springing into the rigging, I saw the Iocucho's topsoils 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 Iocucho, had been many years on the coast and knew the signs of the weather. We soon had the topsoils loosed, and one hand remaining, as usual in each top, to overhaul the rigging and light the sail out. The rest of us came down to man the sheets. While sheeding home, we saw the Iocucho standing atthwart our haws, sharp into the wind, cutting through the headsies like a knife. With her raking masks and her sharp bowels 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 our topsoils had been sheeded home, the headyards braced aback, the foretop mustay sills hoisted, and the buoy streamed, and already floored for slipping. We went aft and manned the sliprope, which came through the stern port with a turn around the timber heads. All ready, Ford? asked the captain. Aye, aye, sir, all ready, answered the mate. Let go. All gone, sir. And the chained cable graded over the windlass and through the hawshole, and the little vessel's head, swinging off from the wind under the force of her backed head soles, brought the strain upon the sliprope. Let go aft. Instantly, all was gone, and we were under way. As soon as she was well off from the wind, we filled away the headyards, braced all up sharp, set the foresail and trisail, 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 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 not to see, the order was given, and we went aloft. Double rafed each topsel, furled the foresel, and double rafed the trisail, and were soon under easy sail. In these cases of slipping for southeasters, there is nothing to be done after you've got clear of the coast, but to lie, too, under easy sail, and wait for the gale to be over, which seldom lasts more than two days, and is sometimes over in twelve hours. But the wind never comes back to the southward until a good deal of rain has fallen. Go below the watch, said the mate. But here was a dispute which watch it should be. The mate soon settled it by sending his watch below, saying that we should have our turn the next time we got under way. 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 a 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 saw wester caps, and had nothing to do but to stand both 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, too, under her four-topsil, 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, told the second mate, who commended our watch, to look out for a change of wind, which usually followed a calm with heavy rain. It was well that he did, for in a few minutes it fell dead calm. The vessel lost her steerage way, the rain ceased, we hauled out the tri-cylind courses, squared the after-yards, and waited for the change, which came in a few minutes with the 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, sky-sills, and setting-sills, and were under fair way for Santa Barbara. The little Loryacht was a stern 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 hoved to all night. Our captain was eager to get in before her, and it would be a great credit to us, on the coast, to beat the Ayacucho, which had been called the best-seller in the North Pacific, in which she had been known as a trader for six months or more. We had an advantage over her in light winds, from our royals and sky-sills, which we carried both to the fore and main, and also from our studying-sills. For Captain Wilson carried nothing above top-gallant sails, and always unbent his studying-sills 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 top-boleon, after rounding the point. And here he had us on his own ground, and walked away from us, as you would haul in a line. He afterwards said that we had sailed boleon enough with the wind free, but that, give him a top-boleon, 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 ourselves when he came to it. This picking up your cables is a nice piece of work. It requires some seamanship to do it, and to come too 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 too windered of our buoy, we clued up with light sails, backed our main top-sill and lowered a boat, which pulled off and made fast a spare hauser to the buoy on the end of the slip-rope. We brought the other end to the capstan 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, occasionally helping her by backing and filling the sails. The chain is then passed through the haus-hole and round the windlass and bidded. The slip-rope taken round outside and brought into the stern port, and she is safe in her old berth. After we had furled the sails and got dinner, we saw the laureate nearing, and she had her anchor before night. At sundown we went ashore again and found the laureate'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. Robinson, and some other passengers, were going to Monterey with us, and that we were to sell the same night. In a few minutes Captain Thompson, with two gentlemen and a lady, came down, and we got ready to go off. They had a good deal of baggage, which we put into the bowels of the boat, and then two of us took the senora in our arms, and waded with her through the water, and put her down safely in the stern. She appeared much amused with the transaction, and her husband was perfectly satisfied, thinking any arrangement good which saved him wetting his feet. I pulled the after-ore 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 that the lady was his wife. She was a delicate, dark-complexioned young woman of one of the respectable families of California. I also found that we were to sail the same night. As soon as we got on board the boats were raced up, the sails loosed, the windless manned, the slip ropes and gear cast off, and after about twenty minutes of heaving at the windless, making sail and bracing yards, we were well under way, and going with a fair wind up the coast to Monterey. The loriote got under way 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 off to sea, we soon lost sight of her. We had a fair wind, which is unusual when going up, as the prevailing wind is the north, which blows directly down the coast. Once the northerner called the windward, and the southern, the lured ports. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of Two Years Before the Mast This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Two Years Before the Mast by Richard Henry Dana Jr. Chapter 11, Passage of the Coast We got clear of the islands before sunrise the next morning, and by twelve o'clock we're out of the canal on off-point conception. The place where we first made the land upon our arrival. This is the largest point on the coast, and is an 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 studying 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 bridge came more upon the wind, she felt it more, and we doused the skisoles, but kept the weather-studding sails on her, bracing the yards forward, so that the swinging boom nearly touched the spritz-sill-yard. She now lay over to it, the wind was freshening, and the captain was evidently dragging on her. His brother and Mr. Robinson, looking a little disturbed, said something to him, but he only answered that he knew the vessel and what she would carry. He was evidently showing off, and letting them know how he could carry sail. He stood up to Windard, holding on by the backstays and looking up by the sticks to see how much they would bear, when a puff came which settled the matter. Then it was hauled down and clue up, royals, flying jib, and setting sails all at once. There was what the sailors call a mess. Everything let go, nothing hauled in, and everything flying. The poor Mexican 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-sill, which had blown over the spritz-sill-yard arm and round the guides, while the topmost studying sail boom, after buckling up and springing out again like a piece of whalebone, broke off at the boom-iron. I jumped aloft to take in the main top-gallant-studding-sill, but before I got into the top the tack parted and away went the sail, swinging forward of the top-gallant-studding-sill, and tearing and sliding itself to pieces. The hollyards were at this moment let go by the run, and such a piece of work I have never had before in taking in 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, Dana, and furl that main royal. Leaving the studying-sill 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-trustle trees, and the mast lay over at a fearful angle with the top-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 worst 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 out to Lourdes, the lee-leach was over the yard-arm, and the sky-sell was all adrift and flying about my head. I looked down, but it was in vain to attempt to make myself heard, for everyone was busy below, and the wind roared, the sails were flapping in all directions. 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 someone 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 had lost her wits, the seas flying over her, and the mast leaning over at a wide angle from the vertical. At the other royal mast head was Stimson, working away at the sail, which was blowing from him as fast as he could gather in. The top gallant sail below me was soon clued 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 in Maine, and in an hour from the time the squall struck us, from having all our flying kites abroad, we came down to double reef tautsals 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 around and stood off again, and had the pleasant prospect of beating up to Monterey, a distance of a hundred miles against a violent headwind. 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 foretop mast was sprung, which no doubt happened in the squall, and were obliged to send down the foretop gallant mast and carry as little sail as possible forward. Our four passengers were dreadfully seasick, 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 in mid-ocean 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 seasick passenger is. Since I got over my own seasickness the third day from Boston I had seen nothing but hail hardy men with their sea legs on and able to go anywhere, for we had no passengers on our voyage out, and I will own there was a pleasant feeling of superiority in being able to walk the deck and eat and go aloft, and compare oneself with the 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 mastheads, 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 apt to be too conscious of a comparison which seems favorable to his own manhood. After a few days we made the land at Point Pinos, 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 of Monterey and still more so with San Francisco. While to the southward of the point, as at Santa Barbara, San Pedro, and particular San Diego, there is very little wood and the country has a naked, level appearance, though it is still fertile. The Bay of Monterey is wide at the entrance, being about 24 miles between the two points, El Nuevo at the north and Pinos at the south. But narrows gradually as you approach the town, which is situated in a bend or a large cove at the south eastern extremity and from the points about 18 miles, which is 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 southeasters. We came to anchor within two cable links of the shore and the town laid directly before us, making a very pretty appearance, its houses being a white washed adobe, which gives a much better effect than those of Santa Barbara, which are mostly left of a mud color. The red tiles, too, on the roofs contrasted well with the white sides and with the extreme greenness of the lawn upon which the houses, about a 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 nor fences, except that here and there a small patch might be fenced in for a garden, so that the houses are placed at random upon the green. This, 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 that we came to anchor, this sun about an hour high and everything looking pleasant. The Mexican flag was flying from the little square prosidio and the drums and trumpets of the soldiers, who were out on parade, sounded over the water and gave great life to the scene. Everyone was delighted with the appearance of things. We felt as though we had gotten 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 roads sit of Santa Barbara, anchoring three miles from the shore, running out to see before every southeaster, landing in a high surf, with a little dark looking town a mile from the beach, and not a sound to be heard nor anything to be seen, but canakas, hides, and talabags. Add to this the gale off point conception, and no one can be at a loss to account for our agreeable disappointment in Monterey. Besides, 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 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 or Americans who had married and settled here. I also connected with our arrival here another circumstance, which more nearly concerns myself. Vis-a-vis, 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 could do it, and got him to ask the mate to send me up the first time the royal yards were struck. Accordingly, I was called upon and went aloft, repeating the operations over in my mind, taking care to get each thing 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 bay-nay at the foot of a Latin exercise. End of Chapter 11. Chapter 12 of Two Years Before the Mast. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Two Years Before the Mast by Richard Henry Dana Jr. Chapter 12 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 holiday, and were already disputing who should ask to go, when upon being called in the morning, we returned to upon the rigging, and found that the top mast, which had been sprung, was to come down, and a new one to go up, with top gallant and royal mast, and the rigging to be set. This was too bad, if there is anything that irritates sailors and makes them feel hardly used, it is being deprived of their Sunday. Not that they would always, or indeed generally, spend it improvingly, but it is their only day of rest. Then, too, they are so 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 them 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, or as the nautical phrase is, humbugged, 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 welcomed to. Every man who has been three months at sea knows how to work Tom Cox traverse. Three turns on the long boat and a pole at the scuttled butt. This morning everything went in this way, so during 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. Marlin spikes were not to be found. Knives wanted a prodigious still of sharpening, and generally three or four were waiting around the grindstone at a time. When a man got to the masthead he would come slowly down again for something he had left, 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 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 of fishing in the Jolly Boat, in the direction of Point Peños, but lead to go ashore was refused. Here we saw the Loriot, which sailed with us from Santa Barbara, coming slowly in with the light sea breeze, which sets in towards afternoon, having been becalmed of the point all the first part of the day. We took several fish of various kinds, among which cod and perch abounded, and Foster, and Foster, the city's only second mate, who was of our number, brought up with this 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 sundown and found the Loriot at anchor within a cable's length of the pilgrim. The next day we returned too early and began taking off the hatches, overhauling the cargo and getting everything ready for inspection. At eight, the officers of the customs, five and number, came on board, and began examining 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 has succeeded in compounding for the last two vessels and saving the trouble of taking the cargo ashore. The officers were dressed in the costume which we found prevailed through the country, broad-brimmed hat, usually of black or dark brown color, with a gilt or figured band round the crown, and lined under the rim with silk. A short jacket of silk or figured calicole, the European-skirted body coat, is never worn. The shirt opened at the neck, rich waistcoat, if any, pantaloons, open at the sides below the knees, laced with gilt, usually of velveteen or broadcloth, or all short breeches and white stockings. They wear the deerskin shoe, which is a dark brown color, and, being made by Indians, usually a good deal ornamented. They have no suspenders but always wear a sash around the waist, which is generally red, and varying in quality with the means of the wearer. Add to this the never-failing poncho, or the syrupy, and you have the dress of the Californian. This last garment is always the mark of rank and wealth of the owner, the gente de raison, or better sort of people, where 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 class is wearing a poncho, something like a large square cloth with a hole in the middle for the head to go through. This, as often as course, is a blanket, but being beautifully woven with various colors is showing at a distance. Among the Mexicans there is no working class. The Indian is being practically serfs and doing all the hard work. And every rich man looks like a grandi, and every poor scamp like a broken-down gentleman. I have often seen a man, with a fine figure in crudious manners, dressed in broadcloth and velvet, with a noble horse completely covered with trappings, without a ray all in his pockets, and absolutely suffering for want of something to eat. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of two years before the mast. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Two years before the mast by Richard Henry Dana Jr. Chapter 13 Trading at Monterey The next day the cargo having been entered in due form, we began trading. The trading room was fitted up in the steerage and furnished out with the lighter goods, and with specimens of the rest of the cargo. And Melis, a young man who came out from Boston with us before the mast, was taken out of the folk-soul and made Supercargo's clerk. He was well qualified for this business, having been clerk in a counting-house in Boston. He had been troubled for some time with 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. 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 pens, the agent and his clerk managed the sails, 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, sugar, spices, raisins, molasses, hardware, crockeryware, tinware, cutlery, clothing of all kinds, boots and shoes from Lin, calicoes and cottons from Lowell, crepes, silks, also shawls, scarfs, necklaces, jewelry, and combs for the women, furniture, and in fact everything that can be imagined, from Chinese fireworks to English cartwheels, of which we had a dozen pairs with their iron tires on. The Californians are an idle, thriftless people and can make nothing for themselves. The country abounds in grapes, yet they buy at a great price, bad wine made in Boston and brought round by us, and retail it among themselves at a real, twelve and a half cents, by the small wineglass. Their hides, too, which they value at two dollars in money, they barter for something which costs seventy five cents in Boston, and buy shoes, as like this knot made of their own hides which have been carried twice round Cape Horn, at three and four dollars, and chicken skin boots at fifteen dollars a pair. Things sell on an average at an advance of nearly three hundred percent upon the Boston prices. This is partly owing to the heavy duties which the government, in their wisdom, with an idea 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, and Co., to whom our vessel belonged. 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 textures, silks, crepe, 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, course it's not being in use. They wore shoes of kid or satin, sashes or belts of bright colors, and almost always a necklace and earrings, 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 wore their hair, which is almost invariably black or 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 around their faces when they go out of doors, which is generally only unpleasant 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 the amount of Spanish blood they can lay claim to, which also settles their social rank. Those who are of pure Spanish blood, having never intermarried with Aborigines, have clear brunette complexions, and sometimes even as fair as those of English women. There are about few of these families in California, being mostly those in official stations, or who on the expiration of their terms of office, have settled here upon property they have acquired, and others who have been banished for state offenses. These form the upper class, intermarrying and keeping up an exclusive system in every respect. They can be distinguished not only by their complexion, dress, and manners, but also by their speech. For calling themselves Castilians, they are very ambitious of speaking pure Castilian, while all Spanish is spoken in a somewhat corrected 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 them but a small piece of cloth, kept up by a wide leather strap drawn around his waist. Generally speaking, each person's cast is decided by the quality of his blood, which shows itself too plainly to be concealed at first sight. Yet the least drop of Spanish blood, if it be only of quadruun or octurun, it is sufficient to raise one from the position of a surf, and entitle him to wear a suit of clothes, boots, hat, cloak, spurs, long knife, all complete, though coarse and dirty as may be, and to call himself Espanol, and to hold property, if he can get any. The fondness for dress among the women is excessive, and is sometimes their ruin. The present of a fine mantle, or of a necklace or a pair of earrings, gains the favor of the greater part. Nothing is more common than to see a woman living in a house of only two rooms, with a ground floor floor, dressed in spangled satin shoes, silk gown, high comb, and gilt, if not gold, earrings, 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 vessel, examining the fine clothes and ornaments, and frequently making purchases at a rate which would have made a seamstress or witty 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 intonation of both sexes. Every common roughing looking fellow, with a slouched hat, blanket cloak, dirty underdress, and soiled leather leggings, 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 by 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 statelyness of utterance. A common bullock driver on horseback, delivering a message, seemed to speak like an ambassador and a royal 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 in circulation. I never in all my life saw so much silver at one time as during the week that we were in Monterey. The truth is, they have no credit system, no banks, and no way of investing money but in cattle. Besides silver, they have no circulating medium but hides, which the sailors call California bank notes. Everything that they buy they must pay for in one or the other of these means. The hides they bring down dried and doubled in clumsy ox carts or upon mule's backs, and the money they carry tied up in a handkerchief, fifty or a hundred dollars and a half dollars. I had not studied Spanish 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 a 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 studied Latin and French, I got the name of a great linguist, and was always sent by the captain and officers for provisions or to take letters and messages to different parts of the town. I was often sent for something which I could not tell the name of to save my life, but I liked the business and accordingly never plated 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 learned the word from him, and then, by science and by giving a Latin or French word, a twist at the end, contrived to get along. This was 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 to see the customs, characters, and domestic arrangements of the people, besides 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 center of it is an open square surrounded by four lines of one-story buildings, with half a dozen cannons in the center, some mounted and others not. This is the Presidio, or fort. Every town has a Presidio in its center, or rather every town has a Presidio 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 it is commonly called, the general, lives here, which makes it the seat of government. He is appointed by the central government in Mexico, and is the chief civil military officer. In addition to him, each town has a commandant, who is its chief officer, and has charge of the fort and of all transactions with foreigners, while two or three alcohol days and corridors, elected by the inhabitants, are the civil officers. Courts strictly of law, with a system of jurisprudence, they have not. Small municipal matters are regulated by the alcohol days and corridors, 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 the latter upon personal inspection, if near, or upon minutes sent him by the proper officers, if the offender is at a distant place. No Protestant has any political rights, nor can he hold property, or indeed remain more than a few weeks on shore, unless he belonged to a foreign vessel. Consequently, Americans in English, who intend to reside here, become papist. 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 adobes, that is, 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 joined together by a cement of the same material, and the whole are of a common dirt color. The floors are generally of earth, the windows graded 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. In de Monterey, nearly all the houses are white washed 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, and small dobs of paintings enclosed in glass, representing some miracle of martyrdom. They have no chimneys or fireplaces in the house. The climate being such as to make a fire unnecessary, and all their cooking is done in a small kitchen separated from the house. The Indians, as I have said before, do all the hard work, two or three being attached to the better house, and the poorest persons are able to keep one at least, for they only have to feed them and give them a small piece of coarse cloth and a belt for the men, and a coarse gown without shoes or stockings for the women. In Monterey there are a number of English and Americans. English or English, all are called who speak the English language. Who have married Californians become united to the Roman church and acquired considerable property. Having more industry, frugality, and enterprise in 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 and pay, which they again barter with our ships. In every town on the coast there are foreigners engaged in this kind of trade, while I recollect but two ships kept by natives. The people are naturally suspicious of foreigners, and they would not be allowed to remain were it not that they conformed to the church, and by marrying natives and bringing up their children as Roman Catholics and Mexicans, and not teaching them the English language, they quiet suspicion, and even become popular in leading men. The chief alcoholism Monterey and Santa Barbara were 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 are put 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 sad 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 logger heads in front, round which the lassos quelled when not in use. They can hardly go from one house to another without mounting a horse. They are being generally several standing tied to the doorpost of the little cottages. When they wish to show their activity, they make no use of their stirrups and mounting, but striking the horse, spring into the saddle as he starts, and sticking their long spurs into him. Go off on a full run. Their spurs are cruel things, having four or five rowls 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 in their horsemanship and races, bull-baitings, etc., but as we were not assured during any holiday, we saw nothing of it. Monterey is also a great place for cock fighting, gambling of all sorts, van dengos, and various kinds of amusement and navery. Trappers and hunters who occasionally arrive here from over the rocky mountains, with their valuable skins and furs, are often entertained with the amusements and dissipation until they have wasted their opportunities and their money, and then go back, stripped of everything. Nothing but the character of the people prevents Monterey from becoming a large 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 harbour, 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 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 owing to the carelessness or ignorance of the captain, who paid out all his small cable before he let go his other anchor. The ship Legota of Boston was there at the time, and rode out the gale in safety, without dragging it all, or if finding it necessary to strike the top gale at mass. The only vessel on port with us was the little Loriote. I frequently went on board her and became 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 folk soul there was a complete babble. Their language is extremely guttural and not pleasant at first, but improves as you hear it more, and is said to have considerable 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, and 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 ready 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 of little use in cold weather. In their dress they are precisely like our sailors. In addition to these Islanders, the Loryot had two English sailors who acted as bossons 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 deceived from a boy, having served a regular apprenticeship of seven years, as 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 breath 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 a fine, open forehead. And his eyes he might have sold to the Duchess at the price of diamonds for their brilliancy. As for their color, 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 tarpulence, slack upon the back of his head, his long locks coming down into his eyes, his white duck trousers 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 was stamped with Indian ink, parting moments, a ship ready to sell, a boat on the beach, and a girl and her sailor lover taking there for well. Underneath were printed the initials of his own name and two other letters, standing for some name which he knew better than I. The printing was very well done, having been executed by a man who made it his business to print with Indian ink for sailors at Havre. On one of his broad arms he had a crucifix, and on the other the sign of the foul anchor. He was fond of reading, and we lent him most of the books which we had in the Folk Soul, which he read in return to us the next time we fell in with him. He had a good deal of information, and his captain said that 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. Yet it is so. Some persons we see under no remarkable circumstances, but whom, for some reason or other, we never forget. He called himself Bill Jackson, and I know of no one of all my accidental acquaintances to whom I would more and more gladly give a shake of the hand then 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 holiday. The people on shore dressed 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 former 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 the matter has settled. But this poor fellow was always getting into hot water, and if there was a wrong way of doing a thing he 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 Foster went as far as the break of the deck, and then 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 Foster. He walked forward, jumped down into the foxtel, 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 surprising manner.