Two Years Before the Mast
but this had as bad luck as the first, for, before any one perceived
it, we were drifting on to the Loriotte. The captain now gave out his
orders rapidly and fiercely, sheeting home the topsails, and backing
and filling the sails, in hope of starting or clearing the anchors; but
it was all in vain, and he sat down on the rail, taking it very
leisurely, and calling out to Captain Nye, that he was coming to pay
him a visit. We drifted fairly into the Loriotte, her larboard bow
into our starboard quarter, carrying away a part of our starboard
quarter railing, and breaking off her larboard bumpkin, and one or two
stanchions above the deck. We saw our handsome sailor, Jackson, on the
forecastle, with the Sandwich Islanders, working away to get us clear.
After paying out chain, we swung clear, but our anchors were no doubt
afoul of hers. We manned the windlass, and hove, and hove away, but to
no purpose. Sometimes we got a little upon the cable, but a good surge
would take it all back again. We now began to drift down toward the
Ayacucho, when her boat put off and brought her commander, Captain
Wilson, on board. He was a short, active, well-built man, between
fifty and sixty years of age; and being nearly twenty years older than
our captain, and a thorough seaman, he did not hesitate to give his
advice, and from giving advice, he gradually came to taking the
command; ordering us when to heave and when to pawl, and backing and
filling the topsails, setting and taking in jib and trysail, whenever
he thought best. Our captain gave a few orders, but as Wilson
generally countermanded them, saying, in an easy, fatherly kind of way,
"Oh no! Captain T----, you don't want the jib on her," or "it isn't
time yet to heave!" he soon gave it up. We had no objections to this
state of things, for Wilson was a kind old man, and had an encouraging
and pleasant way of speaking to us, which made everything go easily.
After two or three hours of constant labor at the windlass, heaving and
"Yo ho!"-ing with all our might, we brought up an anchor, with the
Loriotte's small bower fast to it, Having cleared this and let it go,
and cleared our hawse, we soon got our other anchor, which had dragged
half over the harbor. "Now," said Wilson, "I'll find you a good berth;"
and setting both the topsails, he carried us down, and brought us to
anchor, in handsome style, directly abreast of the hide-house which we
were to use. Having done this, he took his leave, while we furled the
sails, and got our breakfast, which was welcome to us, for we had
worked hard, and it was nearly twelve o'clock. After breakfast, and
until night, we were employed in getting out the boats and mooring ship.
After supper, two of us took the captain on board the Lagoda. As he
came alongside, he gave his name, and the mate, in the gangway, called
out to the captain down the companion-way--"Captain T---- has come
aboard, sir!" "Has he brought his brig with him?" said the rough old
fellow, in a tone which made itself heard fore and aft. This mortified
our captain a little, and it became a standing joke among us for the
rest of the voyage. The captain went down into the cabin, and we walked
forward and put our heads down the forecastle, where we found the men
at supper, "Come down, shipmates! Come down!" said they, as soon as
they saw us; and we went down, and found a large, high forecastle, well
lighted; and a crew of twelve or fourteen men, eating out of their kids
and pans, and drinking their tea, and talking and laughing, all as
independent and easy as so many "wood-sawyer's clerks." This looked
like comfort and enjoyment, compared with the dark little forecastle,
and scanty, discontented crew of the brig. It was Saturday night; they
had got through with their work for the week; and being snugly moored,
had nothing to do until Monday, again. After two years' hard service,
they had seen the worst, and all, of California;--had got their cargo
nearly stowed, and expected to sail in a week or two, for Boston. We
spent an hour or more with them, talking over California matters, until
the word was passed--"Pilgrims, away!" and we went back with our
captain. They were a hardy, but intelligent crew; a little roughened,
and their clothes patched and old, from California wear; all able
seamen, and between the ages of twenty and thirty-five. They inquired
about our vessel, the usage, etc., and were not a little surprised at
the story of the flogging. They said there were often difficulties in
vessels on the coast, and sometimes knock-downs and fightings, but they
had never heard before of a regular seizing-up and flogging.
"Spread-eagles" were a new kind of bird in California.
Sunday, they said, was always given in San Diego, both at the
hide-houses and on board the vessels, a large number usually going up
to the town, on liberty. We learned a good deal from them about curing
and stowing of hides, etc. and they were anxious to have the latest
news (seven months old) from Boston. One of their first inquiries was
for Father Taylor, the seamen's preacher in Boston. Then followed the
usual strain of conversation, inquiries, stories, and jokes, which, one
must always hear in a ship's forecastle, but which are perhaps, after
all, no worse, nor, indeed, more gross, than that of many well-dressed
gentlemen at their clubs.
CHAPTER XVI
LIBERTY-DAY ON SHORE
The next day being Sunday, after washing and clearing decks, and
getting breakfast, the mate came forward with leave for one watch to go
ashore, on liberty. We drew lots, and it fell to the larboard, which I
was in. Instantly all was preparation. Buckets of fresh water, (which
we were allowed in port,) and soap, were put in use; go-ashore jackets
and trowsers got out and brushed; pumps, neckerchiefs, and hats
overhauled; one lending to another; so that among the whole each one
got a good fit-out. A boat was called to pull the "liberty men"
ashore, and we sat down in the stern sheets, "as big as pay
passengers," and jumping ashore, set out on our walk for the town,
which was nearly three miles off.
It is a pity that some other arrangement is not made in merchant
vessels, with regard to the liberty-day. When in port, the crews are
kept at work all the week, and the only day they are allowed for rest
or pleasure is the Sabbath; and unless they go ashore on that day, they
cannot go at all. I have heard of a religious captain who gave his
crew liberty on Saturdays, after twelve o'clock. This would be a good
plan, if shipmasters would bring themselves to give their crews so much
time. For young sailors especially, many of whom have been brought up
with a regard for the sacredness of the day, this strong temptation to
break it, is exceedingly injurious. As it is, it can hardly be expected
that a crew, on a long and hard voyage, will refuse a few hours of
freedom from toil and the restraints of a vessel, and an opportunity to
tread the ground and see the sights of society and humanity, because it
is on a Sunday. It is too much like escaping from prison, or being
drawn out of a pit, on the Sabbath day.
I shall never forget the delightful sensation of being in the open air,
with the birds singing around me, and escaped from the confinement,
labor, and strict rule of a vessel--of being once more in my life,
though only for a day, my own master. A sailor's liberty is but for a
day; yet while it lasts it is perfect. He is under no one's eye, and
can do whatever, and go wherever, he pleases. This day, for the first
time, I may truly say, in my whole life, I felt the meaning of a term
which I had often heard--the sweets of liberty. My friend S---- was
with me, and turning our backs upon the vessels, we walked slowly
along, talking of the pleasure of being our own masters, of the times
past, and when we were free in the midst of friends, in America, and of
the prospect of our return; and planning where we would go, and what we
would do, when we reached home. It was wonderful how the prospect
brightened, and how short and tolerable the voyage appeared, when
viewed in this new light. Things looked differently from what they did
when we talked them over in the little dark forecastle, the night after
the flogging at San Pedro. It is not the least of the advantages of
allowing sailors occasionally a day of liberty, that it gives them a
spring, and makes them feel cheerful and independent, and leads them
insensibly to look on the bright side of everything for some time after.
S---- and myself determined to keep as much together as possible,
though we knew that it would not do to cut our shipmates; for, knowing
our birth and education, they were a little suspicious that we would
try to put on the gentleman when we got ashore, and would be ashamed of
their company; and this won't do with Jack. When the voyage is at an
end, you may do as you please, but so long as you belong to the same
vessel, you must be a shipmate to him on shore, or he will not be a
shipmate to you on board. Being forewarned of this before I went to
sea, I took no "long togs" with me, and being dressed like the rest, in
white duck trowsers, blue jacket and straw hat, which would prevent my
going in better company, and showing no disposition to avoid them, I
set all suspicion at rest. Our crew fell in with some who belonged to
the other vessels, and, sailor-like, steered for the first grog-shop.
This was a small mud building, of only one room, in which were liquors,
dry and West India goods, shoes, bread, fruits, and everything which is
vendible in California. It was kept by a yankee, a one-eyed man, who
belonged formerly to Fall River, came out to the Pacific in a
whale-ship, left her at the Sandwich Islands, and came to California
and set up a "Pulperia." S---- and I followed in our shipmates' wake,
knowing that to refuse to drink with them would be the highest affront,
but determining to slip away at the first opportunity. It is the
universal custom with sailors for each one, in his turn, to treat the
whole, calling for a glass all round, and obliging every one who is
present, even the keeper of the shop, to take a glass with him. When
we first came in, there was some dispute between our crew and the
others, whether the new comers or the old California rangers should
treat first; but it being settled in favor of the latter, each of the
crews of the other vessels treated all round in their turn, and as
there were a good many present, (including some "loafers" who had
dropped in, knowing what was going on, to take advantage of Jack's
hospitality,) and the liquor was a real (12½ cents) a glass, it made
somewhat of a hole in their lockers. It was now our ship's turn, and
S---- and I, anxious to get away, stepped up to call for glasses; but
we soon found that we must go in order--the oldest first, for the old
sailors did not choose to be preceded by a couple of youngsters; and
bon gré mal gré, we had to wait our turn, with the twofold apprehension
of being too late for our horses, and of getting corned; for drink you
must, every time; and if you drink with one and not with another, it is
always taken as an insult.
Having at length gone through our turns and acquitted ourselves of all
obligations, we slipped out, and went about among the houses,
endeavoring to get horses for the day, so that we might ride round and
see the country. At first we had but little success, all that we could
get out of the lazy fellows, in reply to our questions, being the
eternal drawling "Quien sabe?" ("who knows?") which is an answer to all
questions. After several efforts, we at length fell in with a little
Sandwich Island boy, who belonged to Captain Wilson of the Ayacucho,
and was well acquainted in the place; and he, knowing where to go, soon