Two Years Before the Mast
bellied out horizontally as though it would lift up the main stay; the
blocks rattled and flew about; but the force of machinery was too much
for her. "Heave ho! Heave and pawl! Yo, heave, hearty, ho!" and, in
time with the song, by the force of twenty strong arms, the windlass
came slowly round, pawl after pawl, and the weather clew of the sail
was brought down to the waterways. The starboard watch hauled aft the
sheet, and the ship tore through the water like a mad horse, quivering
and shaking at every joint, and dashing from its head the foam, which
flew off at every blow, yards and yards to leeward. A half hour of
such sailing served our turn, when the clews of the sail were hauled
up, the sail furled, and the ship, eased of her press, went more
quietly on her way. Soon after, the foresail was reefed, and we
mizen-top men were sent up to take another reef in the mizen topsail.
This was the first time I had taken a weather earing, and I felt not a
little proud to sit, astride of the weather yard-arm, pass the earing,
and sing out "Haul out to leeward!" From this time until we got to
Boston, the mate never suffered any one but our own gang to go upon the
mizen topsail yard, either for reefing or furling, and the young
English lad and myself generally took the earings between us.
Having cleared the point and got well out to sea, we squared away the
yards, made more sail, and stood on, nearly before the wind, for San
Pedro. It blew strong, with some rain, nearly all night, but fell calm
toward morning, and the gale having gone over, we came-to,--
Thursday, Oct. 22d, at San Pedro, in the old south-easter berth, a
league from shore, with a slip-rope on the cable, reefs in the
topsails, and rope-yarns for gaskets. Here we lay ten days, with the
usual boating, hide-carrying, rolling of cargo up the steep hill,
walking barefooted over stones, and getting drenched in salt water.
The third day after our arrival, the Rosa came in from San Juan, where
she went the day after the south-easter. Her crew said it was as
smooth as a mill-pond, after the gale, and she took off nearly a
thousand hides, which had been brought down for us, and which we lost
in consequence of the south-easter. This mortified us; not only that
an Italian ship should have got to windward of us in the trade, but
because every thousand hides went toward completing the forty thousand
which we were to collect before we could say good-by to California.
While lying here, we shipped one new hand, an Englishman, of about two
or three and twenty, who was quite an acquisition, as he proved to be a
good sailor, could sing tolerably, and, what was of more importance to
me, had a good education, and a somewhat remarkable history. He called
himself George P. Marsh; professed to have been at sea from a small
boy, and to have served his time in the smuggling trade between Germany
and the coasts of France and England. Thus he accounted for his
knowledge of the French language, which he spoke and read as well as he
did English; but his cutter education would not account for his
English, which was far too good to have been learned in a smuggler; for
he wrote an uncommonly handsome hand, spoke with great correctness, and
frequently, when in private talk with me, quoted from books, and showed
a knowledge of the customs of society, and particularly of the
formalities of the various English courts of law, and of Parliament,
which surprised me. Still, he would give no other account of himself
than that he was educated in a smuggler. A man whom we afterwards fell
in with, who had been a shipmate of George's a few years before, said
that he heard at the boarding-house from which they shipped, that
George had been at college, (probably a naval one, as he knew no Latin
or Greek,) where he learned French and mathematics. He was by no means
the man by nature that Harris was. Harris had made everything of his
mind and character in spite of obstacles; while this man had evidently
been born in a different rank, and educated early in life accordingly,
but had been a vagabond, and done nothing for himself since. What had
been given to him by others, was all that made him to differ from those
about him; while Harris had made himself what he was. Neither had
George the character, strength of mind, acuteness, or memory of Harris;
yet there was about him the remains of a pretty good education, which
enabled him to talk perhaps beyond his brains, and a high spirit and
sense of honor, which years of a dog's life had not broken. After he
had been a little while on board, we learned from him his remarkable
history, for the last two years, which we afterwards heard confirmed in
such a manner, as put the truth of it beyond a doubt.
He sailed from New York in the year 1833, if I mistake not, before the
mast, in the brig Lascar, for Canton. She was sold in the East Indies,
and he shipped at Manilla, in a small schooner, bound on a trading
voyage among the Ladrone and Pelew Islands. On one of the latter
islands, their schooner was wrecked on a reef, and they were attacked
by the natives, and, after a desperate resistance, in which all their
number except the captain, George, and a boy, were killed or drowned,
they surrendered, and were carried bound, in a canoe, to a neighboring
island. In about a month after this, an opportunity occurred by which
one of their number might get away. I have forgotten the
circumstances, but only one could go, and they yielded to the captain,
upon his promising to send them aid if he escaped. He was successful
in his attempt; got on board an American vessel, went back to Manilla,
and thence to America, without making any effort for their rescue, or
indeed, as George afterwards discovered, without even mentioning their
case to any one in Manilla. The boy that was with George died, and he
being alone, and there being no chance for his escape, the natives soon
treated him with kindness, and even with attention. They painted him,
tattooed his body, (for he would never consent to be marked in the face
or hands,) gave him two or three wives; and, in fact, made quite a pet
of him. In this way, he lived for thirteen months, in a fine climate,
with a plenty to eat, half naked, and nothing to do. He soon, however,
became tired, and went round the island, on different pretences, to
look out for a sail. One day, he was out fishing in a small canoe with
another man, when he saw a large sail to the windward, about a league
and a half off, passing abreast of the island and standing westward.
With some difficulty, he persuaded the islander to go off with him to
the ship, promising to return with a good supply of rum and tobacco.
These articles, which the islanders had got a taste of from American
traders, were too strong a temptation for the fellow, and he consented.
They paddled off in the track of the ship, and lay-to until she came
down to them. George stepped on board the ship, nearly naked, painted
from head to foot, and in no way distinguishable from his companion
until he began to speak. Upon this, the people on board were not a
little astonished; and, having learned his story, the captain had him
washed and clothed, and sending away the poor astonished native with a
knife or two and some tobacco and calico, took George with him on the
voyage. This was the ship Cabot, of New York, Captain Low. She was
bound to Manilla, from across the Pacific, and George did seaman's duty
in her until her arrival in Manilla, when he left her, and shipped in a
brig bound to the Sandwich Islands. From Oahu, he came, in the British
brig Clementine, to Monterey, as second officer, where, having some
difficulty with the captain, he left her, and coming down the coast,
joined us at San Pedro. Nearly six months after this, among some
papers we received by an arrival from Boston, we found a letter from
Captain Low, of the Cabot, published immediately upon his arrival at
New York, and giving all the particulars just as we had them from
George. The letter was published for the information of the friends of
George, and Captain Low added, that he left him at Manilia to go to
Oahu, and he had heard nothing of him since.
George had an interesting journal of his adventures in the Pelew
Islands, which he had written out at length, in a handsome hand, and in
correct English.
CHAPTER XXV
RUMORS OF WAR--A SPOUTER--SLIPPING FOR A SOUTH-EASTER--A GALE
Sunday, November 1st. Sailed this day, (Sunday again,) for Santa
Barbara, where we arrived on the 5th. Coming round St. Buenaventura,
and nearing the anchorage, we saw two vessels in port, a large
full-rigged, and a small hermaphrodite brig. The former, the crew said
must be the Pilgrim; but I had been too long in the Pilgrim to be
mistaken in her, and I was right in differing from them; for, upon
nearer approach, her long, low shear, sharp bows, and raking masts,
told quite another story. "Man-of-war brig," said some of them;
"Baltimore clipper," said others; the Ayacucho, thought I; and soon the
broad folds of the beautiful banner of St. George,--white field with
blood-red border and cross,--were displayed from her peak. A few
minutes put it beyond a doubt, and we were lying by the side of the
Ayacucho, which had sailed from San Diego about nine months before,
while we were lying there in the Pilgrim. She had since been to
Valparaiso, Callao, and the Sandwich Islands, and had just come upon
the coast. Her boat came on board, bringing Captain Wilson; and in
half an hour the news was all over the ship that there was a war
between the United States and France. Exaggerated accounts reached the
forecastle. Battles had been fought, a large French fleet was in the
Pacific, etc., etc.; and one of the boat's crew of the Ayacucho said
that when they left Callao, a large French frigate and the American
frigate Brandywine, which were lying there, were going outside to have
a battle, and that the English frigate Blonde was to be umpire, and see
fair play. Here was important news for us. Alone, on an unprotected
coast, without an American man-of-war within some thousands of miles,
and the prospect of a voyage home through the whole length of the
Pacific and Atlantic oceans! A French prison seemed a much more
probable place of destination than the good port of Boston. However,
we were too salt to believe every yarn that comes into the forecastle,
and waited to hear the truth of the matter from higher authority. By
means of a supercargo's clerk, I got the account of the matter, which
was, that the governments had had difficulty about the payment of a
debt; that war had been threatened and prepared for, but not actually
declared, although it was pretty generally anticipated. This was not
quite so bad, yet was no small cause of anxiety. But we cared very
little about the matter ourselves. "Happy go lucky" with Jack! We did
not believe that a French prison would be much worse than
"hide-droghing" on the coast of California; and no one who has not been
on a long, dull voyage, shut up in one ship, can conceive of the effect
of monotony upon one's thoughts and wishes. The prospect of a change
is like a green spot in a desert, and the remotest probability of great
events and exciting scenes gives a feeling of delight, and sets life in
motion, so as to give a pleasure, which any one not in the same state
would be entirely unable to account for. In fact, a more jovial night
we had not passed in the forecastle for months. Every one seemed in
unaccountably high spirits. An undefined anticipation of radical
changes, of new scenes, and great doings, seemed to have possessed
every one, and the common drudgery of the vessel appeared contemptible.