|
Chapter XIV
Chapter XIV
/3
Santa Barbara - Hide - Droghing - Harbor Duties - Discontent - San Pedro
After a few days, finding the trade beginning to slacken, we hove our
anchor up, set our topsails, ran the stars and stripes up to the peak, fired a
gun, which was returned from the Presidio, and left the little town astern,
running out of the bay, and bearing down the coast again, for Santa Barbara.
As we were now going to leeward, we had a fair wind and a plenty of it. After
doubling Point Pinos, we bore up, set studding-sails alow and aloft, and
were walking off at the rate of eight or nine knots, promising to traverse in
twenty-four hours the distance which we were nearly three weeks in
traversing on the passage up. We passed Point Conception at a flying rate, the
wind blowing so that it would have seemed half a gale to us, if we had been
going the other way and close hauled. As we drew near the islands off Santa
Barbara, it died away a little but we came-to at our old anchoring-ground
in less than thirty hours from the time of leaving Monterey.
Here everything was pretty much as we left it - the large bay without a
vessel in it; the surf roaring and rolling in upon the beach; the white
mission; the dark town and the high, treeless mountains. Here, too, we had our
south-easter tacks aboard again, - slip-ropes, buoy-ropes, sails furled
with reefs in them, and ropeyarns for gaskets. We lay here about a fortnight,
employed in landing goods and taking off hides, occasionally, when the surf
was not high; but there did not appear to be one-half the business doing
here that there was in Monterey. In fact, so far as we were concerned, the
town might almost as well have been in the middle of the Cordilleras. We lay
at a distance of three miles from the beach, and the town was nearly a mile
farther; so that we saw little or nothing of it. Occasionally we landed a few
goods, which were taken away by Indians in large, clumsy ox-carts, with the
yoke on the ox`s neck instead of under it, and with small solid wheels. A few
hides were brought down, which we carried off in the California style. This we
had now got pretty well accustomed to; and hardened to also; for it does
require a little hardening even to the toughest.
The hides are always brought down dry, or they would not be received.
When they are taken from the animal, they have holes cut in the ends, and are
staked out, and thus dried in the sun without shrinking. They are then doubled
once, lengthwise, with the hair side usually in, and sent down, upon mules or
in carts, and piled above highwater mark; and then we take them up our heads,
one at a time, or two, if they are small, and wade out with them and throw
them into the boat, which as there are no wharves, we are usually kept
anchored by a small kedge, or keelek, just outside of the surf. We all
provided ourselves with thick Scotch caps, which would be soft to the head,
and at the same time protect it; for we soon found that however it might look
or feel at first the "head-work" was the only system for California. For
besides that the seas, breaking high, often obliged us to carry the hides so,
in order to keep them dry, we found that, as they were very large and heavy,
and nearly as stiff as boards, it was the only way that we could carry them
with any convenience to ourselves. Some of the crew tried other expedients,
saying that they looked too much like West India negroes; but they all came to
it at last. The great art is in getting them on the head. We had to take them
from the ground, and as they were often very heavy, and as wide as the arms
could stretch and easily taken by the wind, we used to have some trouble with
them. I have often been laughed at myself, and joined in laughing at others,
pitching themselves down in the sand, trying to swing a large hide upon their
heads, or nearly blown over with one in a little gust of wind. The captain
made it harder for us, by telling us that it was "California fashion" to carry
two on the head at a time; and as he insisted upon it, and we did not wish to
be outdone by other vessels, we carried two for the first few months; but
after falling in with a few other "hide-droghers," and finding that they
carried only one at a time we "knocked off" the extra one, and thus made our
duty somewhat easier.
After we had got our heads used to the weight, and had learned the true
California style of tossing a hide, we could carry off two or three hundred in
a short time, without much trouble; but it was always wet work, and, if the
beach was stony, bad for our feet; for we, of course, always went barefooted
on this duty, as no shoes could stand such constant wetting with salt water.
Then, too, we had a long pull of three miles, with a loaded boat, which often
took a couple of hours.
We had now got well settled down into our harbor duties, which, as they
are a good deal different from those at sea, it may be well enough to
describe. In the first place, all hands are called at daylight, or rather -
especially if the days are short - before daylight, as soon as the first grey
of the morning. The cook makes his fire in the galley; the steward goes about
his work in the cabin; and the crew rig the head pump, and wash down the
decks. The chief mate is always on deck, but takes no active part, all the
duty coming upon the second mate, who has to roll up his trowsers and paddle
about decks barefooted, like the rest of the crew. The washing, swabbing,
squilgeeing, etc., lasts, or is made to last, until eight o`clock, when
breakfast is ordered, fore and aft. After breakfast, for which half an hour is
allowed, the boats are lowered down, and made fast astern, or out to the
swinging booms, by ges-warps, and the crew are turned-to upon their day`s
work. This is various, and its character depends upon circumstances. There is
always more or less of boating, in small boats; and if heavy goods are to be
taken ashore, or hides are brought down to the beach for us, then all hands
are sent ashore with an officer in the long boat. Then there is always, a good
deal to be done in the hold: goods to be broken out; and cargo to be shifted,
to make room for hides, or to keep the trim of the vessel. In addition to
this, the usual work upon the rigging must be done. There is a good deal of
the latter kind of work which can only be done when the vessel is in port; -
and then everything must be kept taught and in good order; spun-yarn made;
chafing gear repaired; and all the other ordinary work. The great difference
between sea and harbor duty is in the division of time. Instead of having a
watch on deck and a watch below, as at sea, all hands are at work together,
except at meal times, from daylight till dark; and at night an "anchor-watch"
is kept, which consists of only two at a time; the whole crew taking turns. An
hour is allowed for dinner, and at dark, the decks cleared up; the boats
hoisted; supper ordered; and at eight, the lights put out, except in the
binnacle, where the glass stands; and the anchor-watch is set. Thus, when at
anchor, the crew have more time at night, (standing watch only about two
hours,) but have no time to themselves in the day; so that reading, mending,
clothes, etc., has to be put off until Sunday, which is usually given. Some
religious captains give their crews Saturday afternoons to do their washing
and mending in, so that they may have their Sundays free. This is a good
arrangement, and does much toward creating the preference sailors usually show
for religious vessels. We were well satisfied if we got Sunday to ourselves,
for, if any hides came down on that day, as was often the case when they were
brought from a distance, we were obliged to bring them off, which usually took
half a day; and as we now lived on fresh beef, and ate one bullock a week, the
animal was almost always brought down on Sunday, and we had to go ashore, kill
it, dress it, and bring it aboard, which was another interruption. Then, too,
our common day`s work was protracted and made more fatiguing by hides coming
down late in the afternoon, which sometimes kept us at work in the surf by
star-light, with the prospect of pulling on board, and stowing them all
away, before supper.
But all these little vexations and labors would have nothing, - they
would have been passed by as the common evils of a sea-life, which every
sailor, who is a man, will go through without complaint, - were it not for the
uncertainty, or worse than uncertainty, which hung over the nature and length
of our voyage. Here we were, in a little vessel, with a small crew, on a
half-civilized coast, at the ends of the earth, and with a prospect of
remaining an indefinite period, two or three years at the least. When we left
Boston we supposed that it was to be a voyage of eighteen months, or two
years, at most; but upon arriving on the coast, we learned something more of
the trade, and found that in the scarcity of hides, which was yearly greater
and greater, it would take us a year, at least, to collect our own cargo,
beside the passage out and home; and that we were also to collect a cargo for
a large ship belonging to the same firm, which was soon to come on the coast,
and to which we were to act as tender. We had heard rumors of such a ship to
follow us, which had leaked out from the captain and mate, but we passed them
by as mere "yarns," till our arrival, when they were confirmed by the letters
which we brought from the owners to their agent. The ship California,
belonging to the same firm, had been nearly two years on the coast; had
collected a full cargo, and was not at San Diego, from which port she was
expected to sail in a few weeks for Boston; and we were to collect all the
hides we could, and deposit them at San Diego, when the new ship, which would
carry forty thousand, was to be filled and sent home; and then we were to
begin anew, and collect our own cargo. Here was a gloomy prospect before us,
indeed. The California had been twenty months on the coast, and the Lagoda, a
smaller ship, carrying only thirty-one or thirty-two thousand, had been
two years getting her cargo; and we were to collect a cargo of forty thousand
beside our own, which would be twelve or fifteen thousand; and hides were said
to be growing scarcer. Then, too, this ship, which had been to us a worse
phantom than any flying Dutchman, was no phantom, or ideal thing, but had been
reduced to a certainty; so much so that a name was given her, and it was said
that she was to be the Alert, a well-known India-man, which was expected
in Boston in a few months, when we sailed. There could be no doubt, and all
looked black enough. Hints were thrown out about three years and four years; -
the older sailors said they never should see Boston again, but should lay
their bones in California; and a cloud seemed to hang over the whole voyage.
Besides, we were not provided for so long a voyage, and clothes, and all
sailors` necessaries, were excessively dear - three or four hundred per cent.
Advance upon the Boston prices. This was bad enough for them; but still worse
was it for me, who did not mean to be a sailor for life; having intended only
to be gone eighteen months or two years. Three or four years would make me a
sailor in every respect, mind and habits, as well as body - nolens volens; and
would put all my companions so far ahead of me that college and a profession
would be in vain to think of; and I made up my mind that, feel as I might, a
sailor I must be, and to be master of a vessel, must be the height of my
ambition.
Beside the length of the voyage, and the hard and exposed life, we were
at the ends of the earth; on a coast almost solitary; in a country where there
is neither law nor gospel, and where sailors are at their captain`s mercy,
there being no American consul, or any one to whom a complaint could be made.
We lost all interest in the voyage; cared nothing about the cargo, which we
were only collecting for others; began to patch our clothes; and felt as
though we were fixed beyond all hope of change.
In addition to, and perhaps partly as a consequence of, this state of
things, there was trouble brewing on board the vessel. Our mate (as the first
mate is always called, par excellence) was a worthy man; - a more honest,
upright, and kind-hearted man I never saw; but he was too good for the mate of
a merchantman. He was not the man to call a sailor a "son of a b___h," and
knock him down with a handspike. He wanted the energy and spirit for such a
voyage as ours, and for such a captain. Captain T___ was a vigorous, energetic
fellow. As sailors say, "he hadn`t a lazy bone in him." He was made of steel
and whalebone. He was a man to "toe the mark," and to make every one else step
up to it. During all the time that I was with him, I never saw him sit down on
deck. He was always active and driving; severe in his discipline, and expected
the same of his officers. The mate not being enough of a driver for him, and
being perhaps too easy with the crew, he was dissatisfied with him, became
suspicious that discipline was getting relaxed, and began to interfere in
everything. He drew the reins taughter; and as, in all quarrels between
officers, the sailors side with the one who treats them best, he became
suspicious of the crew. He saw that everything went wrong - that nothing was
done "with a will;" and in his attempt to remedy the difficulty by severity,
he made everything worse. We were in every respect unfortunately situated.
Captain, officers, and crew, entirely unfitted for one another; and every
circumstance and event was like a two-edged sword, and cut both ways. The
length of the voyage, which made us dissatisfied, made the captain, at the
same time, feel the necessity of order and strict discipline; and the nature
of the country, which caused us to feel that we had nowhere to go for redress,
but were entirely at the mercy of a hard master, made the captain feel, on the
other hand, that he must depend entirely upon his own resources. Severity
created discontent, and signs of discontent provoked severity. Then, too,
ill-treatment and dissatisfaction are no "linimenta laborum;" and many a time
have I heard the sailors say that they should not mind the length of the
voyage, and the hardships, if they were only kindly treated, and if they could
feel that something was done to make things lighter and easier. We felt as
though our situation was a call upon our superiors to give us occasional
relaxations, and to make our yoke easier. But the contrary policy was pursued.
We were kept at work all day when in port; which, together with a watch at
night, made us glad to turn-in as soon as we got below. Thus we got no time
for reading, or - which was of more importance to us - for washing and mending
our clothes. And then, when we were at sea, sailing from port to port, instead
of giving us "watch and watch," as was the custom on board every other vessel
on the coast, we were all kept on deck and at work, rain or shine, making
spun-yarn and rope, and at other work in good weather, and picking oakum, when
it was too wet for anything else. All hands were called to "come up and see it
rain," and kept on deck hour after hour in a drenching rain, standing round
the deck so far apart as to prevent our talking with one another, with our
tarpaulins and oil-cloth jackets on, picking old rope to pieces, or laying
up gaskets and robands. This was often done, too, when we were lying in port
with two anchors down, and no necessity for more than one man on deck as a
look-out. This is what is called "hazing" a crew, and "working their old iron
up."
While lying at Santa Barbara, we encountered another southeaster; and,
like the first, it came on in the night; the great black clouds coming round
from the southward, covering the mountain, and hanging down over the town,
appearing almost to rest upon the roofs of the houses. We made sail, slipped
our cable, cleared the point, and beat about, for four days, in the offing,
under close sail, with continual rain and high seas and winds. No wonder,
thought we, they have no rain in the other seasons, for enough seemed to have
fallen in those four days to last through a common summer. On the fifth day it
cleared up, after a few hours, as is usual, of rain coming down like a four
hours` shower-bath, and we found ourselves drifted nearly ten leagues from the
anchorage; and having light had winds, we did not return until the sixth day.
Having recovered our anchor, we made preparations for getting under weigh to
go down to leeward. We had hoped to go directly to San Diego, and thus fall in
with the California before she sailed for Boston; but our orders were to stop
at an intermediate port called San Pedro, and as we were to lie there a week
or two, and the California was to sail in a few days, we lost the opportunity.
Just before sailing, the captain took on board a short, red-haired,
round-shouldered, vulgar-looking fellow, who had lost one eye, and squinted
with the other, and introducing him as Mr. Russell, told us that he was an
officer on board. This was too bad. We had lost overboard, on the passage, one
of the best of our number, another had been taken from us and appointed clerk,
and thus weakened and reduced, instead of shipping some hands to make our work
easier, he had put another officer over us, to watch and drive us. We had now
four officers, and only six in the forecastle. This was bringing her too much
down by the stern for our comfort.
Leaving Santa Barbara, we coasted along down, the country appearing level
or moderately uneven, and, for the most part, sandy and treeless; until,
doubling a high, sandy point, we let go our anchor at a distance of three or
three and a half miles from shore. It was like a vessel, bound to Halifax,
coming to anchor on the Grand Banks; for the shore being low, appeared to be
at a greater distance than it actually was, and we thought we might as well
have staid at Santa Barbara, and sent our boat down for the hides. The land
was of a clayey consistency, and as far as the eye could reach, entirely bare
of trees and even shrubs and there was no sign of a town, - not even a house
to be seen. What brought us into such a place, we could not conceive. No
sooner had we come to anchor, than the slip-rope, and the other preparations
for south-easters, were got ready; and there was reason enough for it, for
we lay exposed to every wind that could blow, except the north-west, and
that came over a flat country with a range of more than a league of water. As
soon as everything was snug on board, the boat was lowered, and we pulled
ashore, our new officer, who had been several times in the port before, taking
the place of steersman. As we drew in, we found the tide low, and the rocks
and stones, covered with kelp and sea-weed, lying bare for the distance of
nearly an eighth of a mile. Picking our way barefooted over these, we came to
what is called the landing-place, at high-water mark. The soil was as it
appeared at first, loose and clayey, and except the stalks of the mustard
plant, there was no vegetation. Just in front of the landing, and immediately
over it, was a small hill, which, from its being not more than thirty or forty
feet high, we had not perceived from our anchorage. Over this hill we saw
three men coming down, dressed partly like sailors and partly like
Californians; one of them having on a pair of untanned leather trowsers and a
red baize shirt. When they came down to us, we found that they were
Englishmen, and they told us that they had belonged to a small Mexican brig
which had been driven ashore here in a southeaster, and now lived in a small
house just over the hill. Going up this hill with them, we saw, just behind
it, a small, low building, with one room, containing a fire-place, cooking
apparatus, etc., and the rest of it unfinished, and used as a place to store
hides and goods. This, they told us, was built by some traders in the Pueblo,
(a town about thirty miles in the interior, to which this was the port,) and
used by them as a storehouse, and also as a lodging place when they came down
to trade with the vessels. These three men were employed by them to keep the
house in order, and to look out for the things stored in it. They said that
they had been there nearly a year; had nothing to do most of the time, living
upon beef, hard bread, and frijoles (a peculiar kind of bean very abundant in
California). The nearest house, they told us, was a Rancho, or cattle-farm,
about three miles off; and one of them went up, at the request of our officer,
to order a horse to be sent down, with which the agent, who was on board,
might go up to the Pueblo. From one of them, who was an intelligent English
sailor, I learned a good deal, in a few minutes` conversation, about the
place, its trade, and the news from the southern ports. San Diego, he said,
was about eighty miles to the leeward of San Pedro; that they had heard from
there, by a Mexican who came up on horseback, that the California had sailed
for Boston, and that the Lagoda, which had been in San Pedro only a few weeks
before, was taking in her cargo for Boston. The Ayacucho was also there,
loading for Callao, and the little Loriotte, which had run directly down from
Monterey, where we left her. San Diego, he told me, was a small, snug place,
having very little trade, but decidedly the best harbor on the coast, being
completely land-locked, and the water as smooth as a duckpond. This was the
depot for all the vessels engaged in the trade; each one having a large house
there, built of rough boards, in which they stowed their hides, as fast as
they collected them in their trips up and down the coast, and when they had
procured a full cargo, spent a few weeks there, taking it in, smoking ship,
supplying wood and water, and making other preparations for the voyage home.
The Lagoda was now about this business. When we should be about it, was more
thas I could tell; two years, at least, I thought to myself.
I also learned, to my surprise, that the desolate-looking place we were
in was the best place on the whole coast for hides. It was the only port for a
distance of eighty miles, and about thirty miles in the interior was a fine
plane country, filled with herds of cattle, in the centre of which was the
Pueblo de les Angelos - the largest town in California - and several of the
wealthiest missions; to all of which San Pedro was the sea-port.
Having made our arrangements for a horse to take the agent to the Pueblo
the next day, we picked our way again over the green, slippery rocks, and
pulled aboard. By the time we reached the vessel, which was so far off that we
could hardly see her, in the increasing darkness, the boats were hoisted up,
and the crew at supper. Going down into the forecastle, eating our supper, and
lighting our cigars and pipes, we had, as usual, to tell all we had seen or
heard ashore. We all agreed that it was the worst place we had seen yet,
especially for getting off hides, and our lying off at so great a distance
looked as though it was bad for south-easters. After a few disputes as to
whether we should have to carry our goods up the hill, or not, we talked of
San Diego, the probability of seeing the Lagoda before she sailed, etc., etc.
The next day we pulled the agent ashore, and he went up to visit the
Pueblo and the neighboring missions; and in a few days, as the result of his
labors, large ox-carts, and droves of mules, loaded with hides, were seen
coming over the flat country. We loaded our long-boat with goods of all
kinds, light and heavy, and pulled ashore. After landing and rolling them over
the stones upon the beach, we stopped, waiting for the carts to come down the
hill and take them; but the captain soon settled the matter by ordering us to
carry them all up to the top, saying that, that was "California fashion." So
what the oxen would not do, we were obliged to do. The hill was low, but
steep, and the earth, being clayey and wet with the recent rains, was but bad
holding-ground for our feet. The heavy barrels and casks we rolled up with
some difficulty, getting behind and putting our shoulders to them; now and
then our feet slipping, added to the danger of the casks rolling back upon us.
But the greatest trouble was with the large boxes of sugar. These, we had to
place upon oars, and lifting them up rest the oars upon our shoulders, and
creep slowly up the hill with the gait of a funeral procession. After an hour
or two of hard work, we got them all up, and found the carts standing full of
hides, which we had to unload, and also to load again with our own goods; the
lazy Indians, who came down with them, squatting down on their hams, looking
on, doing nothing, and when we asked them to help us, only shaking their
heads, or drawling out "no quiero."
Having loaded the carts, we started up the Indians, who went off, one on
each side of the oxen, with long sticks, sharpened at the end, to punch them
with. This is one of the means of saving labor in California; - two Indians to
two oxen. Now, the hides were to be got down; and for this purpose, we brought
the boat round to a place where the hill was steeper, and threw them down,
letting them slide over the slope. Many of them lodged, and we had to let
ourselves down and set them agoing again; and in this way got covered with
dust, and our clothes torn. After we had got them all down, we were obliged to
take them on our heads, and walk over the stones, and through the water, to
the boat. The water and the stones together would wear out a pair of shoes a
day, and as shoes were very scarce and very dear, we were compelled to go
barefooted. At night, we went on board, having had the hardest and most
disagreeable day`s work that we had yet experienced. For several days, we were
employed in this manner, until we had landed forty or fifty tons of goods, and
brought on board about two thousand hides; when the trade began to slacken,
and we were kept at work, on board, during the latter part of the week, either
in the hold or upon the rigging. On Thursday night, there was a violent blow
from the northward, but as this was offshore, we had only to let go our other
anchor and hold on. We were called up at night to send down the royal-yards.
It was as dark as a pocket, and the vessel pitching at her anchors. I went up
to the fore, and my friend S___, to the main, and we soon had them down
"ship-shape and Bristol fashion;" for, as we had now got used to our duty
aloft, everything above the cross-trees was left to us, who were the
youngest of the crew, except one boy.
|
