Two Years Before the Mast

a new voice giving orders, and a new face on the quarterdeck⁠—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 quarterdeck. 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 shipmates 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 topgallant masts, and unreeving half the rigging, the very first day.

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 reread 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.”

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.”172 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.

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 trousers 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 crawfish. For this purpose, we procured a pair of grains,173 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 torchbearer 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