Two Years Before the Mast
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