Two Years Before the Mast
delicate-looking boy, from one of the Boston schools, and over whom he
had much the advantage, in strength, age, and experience in the ship's
duty, for this was the first time the Boston boy had been on salt
water. The latter, however, had "picked up his crumbs," was learning
his duty, and getting strength and confidence daily; and began to
assert his rights against his oppressor. Still, the other was his
master, and, by his superior strength, always tackled with him and
threw him down. One afternoon, before we were turned-to, these boys
got into a violent squabble in the between-decks, when George (the
Boston boy) said he would fight Nat, if he could have fair play. The
chief mate heard the noise, dove down the hatchway, hauled them both up
on deck, and told them to shake hands and have no more trouble for the
voyage, or else they should fight till one gave in for beaten. Finding
neither willing to make an offer for reconciliation, he called all
hands up, (for the captain was ashore, and he could do as he chose
aboard,) ranged the crew in the waist, marked a line on the deck,
brought the two boys up to it, making them "toe the mark;" then made
the bight of a rope fast to a belaying pin, and stretched it across the
deck, bringing it just above their waists. "No striking below the
rope!" And there they stood, one on each side of it, face to face, and
went at it like two game-cocks. The Cape Cod boy, Nat, put in his
double-fisters, starting the blood, and bringing the black and blue
spots all over the face and arms of the other, whom we expected to see
give in every moment: but the more he was hurt, the better he fought.
Time after time he was knocked nearly down, but up he came again and
faced the mark, as bold as a lion, again to take the heavy blows, which
sounded so as to make one's heart turn with pity for him. At length he
came up to the mark for the last time, his shirt torn from his body,
his face covered with blood and bruises, and his eyes flashing fire,
and swore he would stand there until one or the other was killed, and
set-to like a young fury. "Hurrah in the bow!" said the men, cheering
him on. "Well crowed!" "Never say die, while there's a shot in the
locker!" Nat tried to close with him, knowing his advantage, but the
mate stopped that, saying there should be fair play, and no fingering.
Nat then came up to the mark, but looked white about the mouth, and his
blows were not given with half the spirit of his first. He was
evidently cowed. He had always been his master, and had nothing to
gain, and everything to lose; while the other fought for honor and
freedom, under a sense of wrong. It would not do. It was soon over.
Nat gave in; not so much beaten, as cowed and mortified; and never
afterwards tried to act the bully on board. We took George forward,
washed him in the deck-tub, complimented his pluck, and from this time
he became somebody on board, having fought himself into notice. Mr.
Brown's plan had a good effect, for there was no more quarrelling among
the boys for the rest of the voyage.
Wednesday, January 6th. Set sail from Monterey, with a number of
Spaniards as passengers, and shaped our course for Santa Barbara. The
Diana went out of the bay in company with us, but parted from us off
Point Pinos, being bound to the Sandwich Islands. We had a smacking
breeze for several hours, and went along at a great rate, until night,
when it died away, as usual, and the land-breeze set in, which brought
us upon a taut bowline. Among our passengers was a young man who was
the best representation of a decayed gentleman I had ever seen. He
reminded me much of some of the characters in Gil Blas. He was of the
aristocracy of the country, his family being of pure Spanish blood, and
once of great importance in Mexico. His father had been governor of the
province, and having amassed a large property, settled at San Diego,
where he built a large house with a court-yard in front, kept a great
retinue of Indians, and set up for the grandee of that part of the
country. His son was sent to Mexico, where he received the best
education, and went into the first society of the capital. Misfortune,
extravagance, and the want of funds, or any manner of getting interest
on money, soon eat the estate up, and Don Juan Bandini returned from
Mexico accomplished, poor, and proud, and without any office or
occupation, to lead the life of most young men of the better
families--dissolute and extravagant when the means are at hand;
ambitious at heart, and impotent in act; often pinched for bread;
keeping up an appearance of style, when their poverty is known to each
half-naked Indian boy in the street, and they stand in dread of every
small trader and shopkeeper in the place. He had a slight and elegant
figure, moved gracefully, danced and waltzed beautifully, spoke the
best of Castilian, with a pleasant and refined voice and accent, and
had, throughout, the bearing of a man of high birth and figure. Yet
here he was, with his passage given him, (as I afterwards learned,) for
he had not the means of paying for it, and living upon the charity of
our agent. He was polite to every one, spoke to the sailors, and gave
four reáls--I dare say the last he had in his pocket--to the steward,
who waited upon him. I could not but feel a pity for him, especially
when I saw him by the side of his fellow-passenger and townsman, a fat,
coarse, vulgar, pretending fellow of a Yankee trader, who had made
money in San Diego, and was eating out the very vitals of the Bandinis,
fattening upon their extravagance, grinding them in their poverty;
having mortgages on their lands, forestalling their cattle, and already
making an inroad upon their jewels, which were their last hope.
Don Juan had with him a retainer, who was as much like many of the
characters in Gil Blas as his master. He called himself a private
secretary, though there was no writing for him to do, and he lived in
the steerage with the carpenter and sailmaker. He was certainly a
character; could read and write extremely well; spoke good Spanish; had
been all over Spanish America, and lived in every possible situation,
and served in every conceivable capacity, though generally in that of
confidential servant to some man of figure. I cultivated this man's
acquaintance, and during the five weeks that he was with us,--for he
remained on board until we arrived at San Diego,--I gained a greater
knowledge of the state of political parties in Mexico, and the habits
and affairs of the different classes of society, than I could have
learned from almost any one else. He took great pains in correcting my
Spanish, and supplying me with colloquial phrases, and common terms and
exclamations in speaking. He lent me a file of late newspapers from
the city of Mexico, which were full of triumphal receptions of Santa
Ana, who had just returned from Tampico after a victory, and with the
preparations for his expedition against the Texans. "Viva Santa Ana!"
was the by-word everywhere, and it had even reached California, though
there were still many here, among whom was Don Juan Bandini, who were
opposed to his government, and intriguing to bring in Bustamente.
Santa Ana, they said, was for breaking down the missions; or, as they
termed it--"Santa Ana no quiere religion." Yet I had no doubt that the
office of administrador of San Diego would reconcile Don Juan to any
dynasty, and any state of the church. In these papers, too, I found
scraps of American and English news; but which were so unconnected, and
I was so ignorant of everything preceding them for eighteen months
past, that they only awakened a curiosity which they could not satisfy.
One article spoke of Taney as Justicia Mayor de los Estados Unidos,
(what had become of Marshall? was he dead, or banished?) and another
made known, by news received from Vera Cruz, that "El Vizconde
Melbourne" had returned to the office of "primer ministro," in place of
Sir Roberto Peel. (Sir Robert Peel had been minister, then? and where
were Earl Grey and the Duke of Wellington?) Here were the outlines of
a grand parliamentary overturn, the filling up of which I could imagine
at my leisure.
The second morning after leaving Monterey, we were off Point
Conception. It was a bright, sunny day, and the wind, though strong,
was fair; and everything was in striking contrast with our experience
in the same place two months before, when we were drifting off from a
northwester under a fore and main spencer. "Sail ho!" cried a man who
was rigging out a top-gallant studding-sail boom.--"Where
away?"--"Weather beam, sir!" and in a few minutes a full-rigged brig
was seen standing out from under Point Conception. The studding-sail
halyards were let go, and the yards boom-ended, the after yards braced
aback, and we waited her coming down. She rounded to, backed her main
topsail, and showed her decks full of men, four guns on a side, hammock
nettings, and everything man-of-war fashion, except that there was no
boatswain's whistle, and no uniforms on the quarter-deck. A short,
square-built man, in a rough grey jacket, with a speaking-trumpet in
hand, stood in the weather hammock nettings. "Ship
ahoy!"--"Hallo!"--"What ship is that, pray?"--"Alert."--"Where are you
from, pray?" etc., etc. She proved to be the brig Convoy, from the
Sandwich Islands, engaged in otter hunting, among the islands which lie
along the coast. Her armament was from her being an illegal trader.
The otter are very numerous among these islands, and being of great
value, the government require a heavy sum for a license to hunt them,
and lay a high duty upon every one shot or carried out of the country.
This vessel had no license, and paid no duty, besides being engaged in
smuggling goods on board other vessels trading on the coast, and
belonging to the same owners in Oahu. Our captain told him to look out
for the Mexicans, but he said they had not an armed vessel of his size
in the whole Pacific. This was without doubt the same vessel that
showed herself off Santa Barbara a few months before. These vessels
frequently remain on the coast for years, without making port, except
at the islands for wood and water, and an occasional visit to Oahu for
a new outfit.
Sunday, January 10th. Arrived at Santa Barbara, and on the following
Wednesday, slipped our cable and went to sea, on account of a
south-easter. Returned to our anchorage the next day. We were the
only vessel in the port. The Pilgrim had passed through the Canal and
hove-to off the town, nearly six weeks before, on her passage down from
Monterey, and was now at the leeward. She heard here of our safe
arrival at San Francisco.
Great preparations were making on shore for the marriage of our agent,
who was to marry Donna Anneta De G---- De N---- y C----, youngest
daughter of Don Antonio N----, the grandee of the place, and the head
of the first family in California. Our steward was ashore three days,
making pastry and cake, and some of the best of our stores were sent
off with him. On the day appointed for the wedding, we took the
captain ashore in the gig, and had orders to come for him at night,
with leave to go up to the house and see the fandango. Returning on
board, we found preparations making for a salute. Our guns were loaded
and run out, men appointed to each, cartridges served out, matches
lighted, and all the flags ready to be run up. I took my place at the
starboard after gun, and we all waited for the signal from on shore.
At ten o'clock the bride went up with her sister to the confessional,
dressed in deep black. Nearly an hour intervened, when the great doors
of the mission church opened, the bells rang out a loud, discordant