<SPAN name="chap20"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER XX </h3>
<h3> LEISURE—NEWS FROM HOME—"BURNING THE WATER" </h3>
<p>After we had been a few weeks on shore, and had begun to feel broken
into the regularity of our life, its monotony was interrupted by the
arrival of two vessels from the windward. We were sitting at dinner in
our little room, when we heard the cry of "Sail ho!" This, we had
learned, did not always signify a vessel, but was raised whenever a
woman was seen coming down from the town; or a squaw, or an ox-cart, or
anything unusual, hove in sight upon the road; so we took no notice of
it. But it soon became so loud and general from all parts of the
beach, that we were led to go to the door; and there, sure enough, were
two sails coming round the point, and leaning over from the strong
north-west wind, which blows down the coast every afternoon. The
headmost was a ship, and the other, a brig. Everybody was alive on the
beach, and all manner of conjectures were abroad. Some said it was the
Pilgrim, with the Boston ship, which we were expecting; but we soon saw
that the brig was not the Pilgrim, and the ship with her stump
top-gallant masts and rusty sides, could not be a dandy Boston
Indiaman. As they drew nearer, we soon discovered the high poop and
top-gallant forecastle, and other marks of the Italian ship Rosa, and
the brig proved to be the Catalina, which we saw at Santa Barbara, just
arrived from Valparaiso. They came to anchor, moored ship, and
commenced discharging hides and tallow. The Rosa had purchased the
house occupied by the Lagoda, and the Catalina took the other spare one
between ours and the Ayacucho's, so that, now, each one was occupied,
and the beach, for several days, was all alive. The Catalina had
several Kanakas on board, who were immediately besieged by the others,
and carried up to the oven, where they had a long pow-wow, and a smoke.
Two Frenchmen, who belonged to the Rosa's crew, came in, every evening,
to see Nicholas; and from them we learned that the Pilgrim was at San
Pedro, and was the only other vessel now on the coast. Several of the
Italians slept on shore at their hide-house; and there, and at the tent
in which the Fazio's crew lived, we had some very good singing almost
every evening. The Italians sang a variety of songs—barcarollas,
provincial airs, etc.; in several of which I recognized parts of our
favorite operas and sentimental songs. They often joined in a song,
taking all the different parts; which produced a fine effect, as many
of them had good voices, and all seemed to sing with spirit and
feeling. One young man, in particular, had a falsetto as clear as a
clarionet.</p>
<p>The greater part of the crews of the vessels came ashore every evening,
and we passed the time in going about from one house to another, and
listening to all manner of languages. The Spanish was the common
ground upon which we all met; for every one knew more or less of that.
We had now, out of forty or fifty, representatives from almost every
nation under the sun: two Englishmen, three Yankees, two Scotchmen, two
Welshmen, one Irishman, three Frenchmen (two of whom were Normans, and
the third from Gascony,) one Dutchman, one Austrian, two or three
Spaniards, (from old Spain,) half a dozen Spanish-Americans and
half-breeds, two native Indians from Chili and the Island of Chiloe,
one Negro, one Mulatto, about twenty Italians, from all parts of Italy,
as many more Sandwich Islanders, one Otaheitan, and one Kanaka from the
Marquesas Islands.</p>
<p>The night before the vessels were ready to sail, all the Europeans
united and had an entertainment at the Rosa's hide-house, and we had
songs of every nation and tongue. A German gave us "Och! mein lieber
Augustin!" the three Frenchmen roared through the Marseilles Hymn; the
English and Scotchmen gave us "Rule Britannia," and "Wha'll be King but
Charlie?" the Italians and Spaniards screamed through some national
affairs, for which I was none the wiser; and we three Yankees made an
attempt at the "Star-spangled Banner." After these national tributes
had been paid, the Austrian gave us a very pretty little love-song, and
the Frenchmen sang a spirited thing called "Sentinelle! O prenez garde
a vous!" and then followed the melange which might have been expected.
When I left them, the aguardiente and annisou was pretty well in their
heads, and they were all singing and talking at once, and their
peculiar national oaths were getting as plenty as pronouns.</p>
<p>The next day, the two vessels got under weigh for the windward, and
left us in quiet possession of the beach. Our numbers were somewhat
enlarged by the opening of the new houses, and the society of the beach
a little changed. In charge of the Catalina's house, was an old
Scotchman, who, like most of his countrymen, had a pretty good
education, and, like many of them, was rather pragmatical, and had a
ludicrously solemn conceit. He employed his time in taking care of his
pigs, chickens, turkeys, dogs, etc., and in smoking his long pipe.
Everything was as neat as a pin in the house, and he was as regular in
his hours as a chronometer, but as he kept very much by himself, was
not a great addition to our society. He hardly spent a cent all the
time he was on the beach, and the others said he was no shipmate. He
had been a petty officer on board the British frigate Dublin, Capt.
Lord James Townshend, and had great ideas of his own importance. The
man in charge of the Rosa's house was an Austrian by birth, but spoke,
read, and wrote four languages with ease and correctness. German was
his native tongue, but being born near the borders of Italy, and having
sailed out of Genoa, the Italian was almost as familiar to him as his
own language. He was six years on board of an English man-of-war,
where he learned to speak our language with ease, and also to read and
write it. He had been several years in Spanish vessels, and had
acquired that language so well, that he could read any books in it. He
was between forty and fifty years of age, and was a singular mixture of
the man-of-war's-man and Puritan. He talked a great deal about
propriety and steadiness, and gave good advice to the youngsters and
Kanakas, but seldom went up to the town, without coming down "three
sheets in the wind." One holyday, he and old Robert (the Scotchman
from the Catalina) went up to the town, and got so cozy, talking over
old stories and giving one another good advice, that they came down
double-backed, on a horse, and both rolled off into the sand as soon as
the horse stopped. This put an end to their pretensions, and they never
heard the last of it from the rest of the men. On the night of the
entertainment at the Rosa's house, I saw old Schmidt, (that was the
Austrian's name) standing up by a hogshead, holding on by both hands,
and calling out to himself—"Hold on, Schmidt! hold on, my good fellow,
or you'll be on your back!" Still, he was an intelligent, good-natured
old fellow, and had a chest-full of books, which he willingly lent me
to read. In the same house with him was a Frenchman and an Englishman;
the latter a regular-built "man-of-war Jack;" a thorough seaman; a
hearty, generous fellow; and, at the same time, a drunken, dissolute
dog. He made it a point to get drunk once a fortnight, (when he always
managed to sleep on the road, and have his money stolen from him,) and
to battle the Frenchman once a week. These, with a Chilian, and a half
a dozen Kanakas, formed the addition to our company.</p>
<p>In about six weeks from the time when the Pilgrim sailed, we had got
all the hides which she left us cured and stowed away; and having
cleared up the ground, and emptied the vats, and set everything in
order, had nothing more to do until she should come down again, but to
supply ourselves with wood. Instead of going twice a week for this
purpose, we determined to give one whole week to getting wood, and then
we should have enough to last us half through the summer. Accordingly,
we started off every morning, after an early breakfast, with our
hatchets in hand, and cut wood until the sun was over the point,—which
was our only mark of time, as there was not a watch on the beach—and
then came back to dinner, and after dinner, started off again with our
hand-cart and ropes, and carted and "backed" it down, until sunset.
This, we kept up for a week, until we had collected several
cords,—enough to last us for six or eight weeks—when we "knocked off"
altogether, much to my joy; for, though I liked straying in the woods,
and cutting, very well, yet the backing the wood for so great a
distance, over an uneven country, was, without exception, the hardest
work I had ever done. I usually had to kneel down and contrive to heave
the load, which was well strapped together, upon my back, and then rise
up and start off with it up the hills and down the vales, sometimes
through thickets,—the rough points sticking into the skin, and tearing
the clothes, so that, at the end of the week, I had hardly a whole
shirt to my back.</p>
<p>We were now through all our work, and had nothing more to do until the
Pilgrim should come down again. We had nearly got through our
provisions too, as well as our work; for our officer had been very
wasteful of them, and the tea, flour, sugar, and molasses, were all
gone. We suspected him of sending them up to the town; and he always
treated the squaws with molasses, when they came down to the beach.
Finding wheat-coffee and dry bread rather poor living, we dubbed
together, and I went up to the town on horseback with a great salt-bag
behind the saddle, and a few reáls in my pocket, and brought back the
bag full of onions, pears, beans, water-melons, and other fruits; for
the young woman who tended the garden, finding that I belonged to the
American ship, and that we were short of provisions, put in a double
portion. With these we lived like fighting-cocks for a week or two,
and had, besides, what the sailors call "a blow-out on sleep;" not
turning out in the morning until breakfast was ready. I employed
several days in overhauling my chest, and mending up all my old
clothes, until I had got everything in order—patch upon patch, like a
sand-barge's mainsail. Then I took hold of Bowditch's Navigator, which
I had always with me. I had been through the greater part of it, and
now went carefully through it, from beginning to end working out most
of the examples. That done, and there being no signs of the Pilgrim, I
made a descent upon old Schmidt, and borrowed and read all the books
there were upon the beach. Such a dearth was there of these latter
articles, that anything, even a little child's story-book, or the half
of a shipping calendar, appeared like a treasure. I actually read a
jest-book through, from beginning to end, in one day, as I should a
novel, and enjoyed it very much. At last, when I thought that there
were no more to be got, I found, at the bottom of old Schmidt's chest,
"Mandeville, a Romance, by Godwin, in five volumes." This I had never
read, but Godwin's name was enough, and after the wretched trash I had
devoured, anything bearing the name of a distinguished intellectual
man, was a prize indeed. I bore it off, and for two days I was up
early and late, reading with all my might, and actually drinking in
delight. It is no extravagance to say that it was like a spring in a
desert land.</p>
<p>From the sublime to the ridiculous—so with me, from Mandeville to
hide-curing, was but a step; for</p>
<p>Wednesday, July 18th, brought us the brig Pilgrim from the windward. As
she came in, we found that she was a good deal altered in her
appearance. Her short top-gallant masts were up; her bowlines all
unrove (except to the courses); the quarter boom-irons off her lower
yards; her jack-cross-trees sent down; several blocks got rid of;
running-rigging rove in new places; and numberless other changes of the
same character. Then, too, there was a new voice giving orders, and a
new face on the quarter-deck,—a short, dark-complexioned man, in a
green jacket and a high leather cap. These changes, of course, set the
whole beach on the qui-vive, and we were all waiting for the boat to
come ashore, that we might have things explained. At length, after the
sails were furled and the anchor carried out, the boat pulled ashore,
and the news soon flew that the expected ship had arrived at Santa
Barbara, and that Captain T—— had taken command of her, and her
captain, Faucon, had taken the Pilgrim, and was the green-jacketed man
on the quarter-deck. The boat put directly off again, without giving
us time to ask any more questions, and we were obliged to wait till
night, when we took a little skiff, that lay on the beach, and paddled
off. When I stepped aboard, the second mate called me aft, and gave me
a large bundle, directed to me, and marked "Ship Alert." This was what
I had longed for, yet I refrained from opening it until I went ashore.
Diving down into the forecastle, I found the same old crew, and was
really glad to see them again. Numerous inquiries passed as to the new
ship, the latest news from Boston, etc., etc. S—— had received
letters from home, and nothing remarkable had happened. The Alert was
agreed on all hands to be a fine ship, and a large one: "Larger than
the Rosa"—"Big enough to carry off all the hides in California"—"Rail
as high as a man's head"—"A crack ship"—"A regular dandy," etc., etc.
Captain T—— took command of her, and she went directly up to
Monterey; from thence she was to go to San Francisco, and probably
would not be in San Diego under two or three months. Some of the
Pilgrim's crew found old ship-mates aboard of her, and spent an hour or
two in her forecastle, the evening before she sailed. They said her
decks were as white as snow—holystoned every morning, like a
man-of-war's; everything on board "shipshape and Bristol fashion;" a
fine crew, three mates, a sailmaker and carpenter, and all complete.
"They've got a man for mate of that ship, and not a bloody sheep about
decks!"—"A mate that knows his duty, and makes everybody do theirs,
and won't be imposed upon either by captain or crew." After collecting
all the information we could get on this point, we asked something
about their new captain. He had hardly been on board long enough for
them to know much about him, but he had taken hold strong, as soon as
he took command;—sending down the top-gallant masts, and unreeving
half the rigging, the very first day.</p>
<p>Having got all the news we could, we pulled ashore; and as soon as we
reached the house, I, as might be supposed, proceeded directly to
opening my bundle, and found a reasonable supply of duck, flannel
shirts, shoes, etc., and, what was still more valuable, a packet of
eleven letters. These I sat up nearly all the night to read, and put
them carefully away, to be read and re-read again and again at my
leisure. Then came a half a dozen newspapers, the last of which gave
notice of Thanksgiving, and of the clearance of "ship Alert, Edward H.
Faucon, master, for Callao and California, by Bryant, Sturgis & Co."
No one has ever been on distant voyages, and after a long absence
received a newspaper from home, who cannot understand the delight that
they give one. I read every part of them—the houses to let; things
lost or stolen; auction sales, and all. Nothing carries you so entirely
to a place, and makes you feel so perfectly at home, as a newspaper.
The very name of "Boston Daily Advertiser" "sounded hospitably upon the
ear."</p>
<p>The Pilgrim discharged her hides, which set us at work again, and in a
few days we were in the old routine of dry hides—wet
hides—cleaning—beating, etc. Captain Faucon came quietly up to me,
as I was at work, with my knife, cutting the meat from a dirty hide,
asked me how I liked California, and repeated—"Tityre, tu patulae
recubans sub tegmine fagi." Very apropos, thought I, and, at the same
time, serves to show that you understand Latin. However, a kind word
from a captain is a thing not to be slighted; so I answered him
civilly, and made the most of it.</p>
<p>Saturday, July 11th. The Pilgrim set sail for the windward, and left
us to go on in our old way. Having laid in such a supply of wood, and
the days being now long, and invariably pleasant, we had a good deal of
time to ourselves. All the duck I received from home, I soon made up
into trowsers and frocks, and displayed, every Sunday, a complete suit
of my own make, from head to foot, having formed the remnants of the
duck into a cap. Reading, mending, sleeping, with occasional
excursions into the bush, with the dogs, in search of coati, hares, and
rabbits, or to encounter a rattlesnake, and now and then a visit to the
Presidio, filled up our spare time after hide-curing was over for the
day. Another amusement, which we sometimes indulged in, was "burning
the water" for craw-fish. For this purpose, we procured a pair of
grains, with a long staff like a harpoon, and making torches with
tarred rope twisted round a long pine stick, took the only boat on the
beach, a small skiff, and with a torch-bearer in the bow, a steersman
in the stern, and one man on each side with the grains, went off, on
dark nights, to burn the water. This is fine sport. Keeping within a
few rods of the shore, where the water is not more than three or four
feet deep, with a clear sandy bottom, the torches light everything up
so that one could almost have seen a pin among the grains of sand. The
craw-fish are an easy prey, and we used soon to get a load of them.
The other fish were more difficult to catch, yet we frequently speared
a number of them, of various kinds and sizes. The Pilgrim brought us
down a supply of fish-hooks, which we had never had before, on the
beach, and for several days we went down to the Point, and caught a
quantity of cod and mackerel. On one of these expeditions, we saw a
battle between two Sandwich Islanders and a shark. "Johnny" had been
playing about our boat for some time, driving away the fish, and
showing his teeth at our bait, when we missed him, and in a few moments
heard a great shouting between two Kanakas who were fishing on the rock
opposite to us: "E hana hana make i ka ia nui!" "E pii mai Aikane!"
etc., etc.; and saw them pulling away on a stout line, and "Johnny
Shark" floundering at the other end. The line soon broke; but the
Kanakas would not let him off so easily, and sprang directly into the
water after him. Now came the tug of war. Before we could get into
deep water, one of them seized him by the tail, and ran up with him
upon the beach; but Johnny twisted round, turning his head under his
body, and, showing his teeth in the vicinity of the Kanaka's hand, made
him let go and spring out of the way. The shark now turned tail and
made the best of his way, by flapping and floundering, toward deep
water; but here again, before he was fairly off, the other Kanaka
seized him by the tail, and made a spring towards the beach, his
companion at the same time paying away upon him with stones and a large
stick. As soon, however, as the shark could turn, he was obliged to let
go his hold; but the instant he made toward deep water, they were both
behind him, watching their chance to seize him. In this way the battle
went on for some time, the shark, in a rage, splashing and twisting
about, and the Kanakas, in high excitement, yelling at the top of their
voices; but the shark at last got off, carrying away a hook and liner
and not a few severe bruises.</p>
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