|
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXV
Rumors of War - A Spouter - Slipping for A South-Easter
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, shutup in one ship, can conceive of the 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. Here was a new vein opened; a grand theme of
conversation, and a topic for all sorts of discussions. National feeling was
wrought up. Jokes were cracked upon the only Frenchman in the ship and
comparisons made between "old horse" and "soup meagre," etc., etc.
We remained in uncertainty as to this war for more than two months, when
an arrival from the Sandwich Islands brought us the news of an amicable
arrangement of the difficulties.
The other vessel which we found in port was the hermaphrodite brig Avon,
from the Sandwich Islands. She was fitted up in handsome style; fired a gun
and ran her ensign up and down at sunrise and sunset; had a band of four or
five pieces of music on board, and appeared rather like a pleasure yacht than
a trader; yet, in connection with the Loriotte, Clementine, Bolivar, Convoy,
and other small vessels, belonging to sundry Americans at Oahu, she carried on
a great trade - legal and illegal - in otter skins, silks, teas, specie, etc.
The second day after our arrival, a full-rigged brig came round the
point from the northward, sailed leisurely through the bay, and stood off
again for the south-east, in the direction of the large island of Catalina.
The next day the Avon got under weigh, and stood in the same direction, bound
for San Pedro. This might do for marines and Californians, but we knew the
ropes too well. The brig was never again seen on the coast, and the Avon
arrived at San Pedro in about a week, with a full cargo of Canton and American
goods.
This was one of the means of escaping the heavy duties the Mexicans lay
upon all imports. A vessel comes on the coast, enters a moderate cargo at
Monterey, which is the only custom-house, and commences trading. In a month
or more, having sold a large part of her cargo, the streches over to Catalina,
or other of the large uninhabited islands which lie off the coast, in a trip
from port to port, and supplies herself with choice goods from a vessel from
Oahu, which has been lying off and on the islands, waiting for her. Two days
after the sailing of the Avon, the Loriotte came in from the leeward, and
without doubt had also a snatch at the brig`s cargo.
Tuesday, Nov. 10th. Going ashore, as usual, in the gig, just before
sundown, to bring off the captain, we found, upon taking in the captain and
pulling off again, that our ship, which lay the farthest out, had run up her
ensign. This meant "Sail ho!" of course, but as we were within the point we
could see nothing. "Give way, boys! Give way! Lay out on your oars, and long
stroke!" said the captain; and stretching to the whole length of our arms,
bending back again, so that our backs touched the thwarts, we sent her through
the water like a rocket. A few minutes of such pulling opened the islands, one
after another, in range of the point, and gave us a view of the Canal, where
was a ship, under top-gallant sails, standing in, with a light breeze, for
the anchorage. Putting the boat`s head in the direction of the ship, the
captain told us to lay out again; and we needed no spurring for the prospect
of boarding a new ship, perhaps from home, hearing the news and having
something to tell of when we got back, was excitement enough for us, and we
gave way with a will. Captain Nye, of the Loriotte, who had been an old
whaleman, was in the stern-sheets, and fell mightily into the spirit of it
"Bend your backs and break your oars!" said he. "Lay me on, Captain Bunker!"
"There she flukes!" and other exclamations, peculiar to whalemen. In the
meantime, it fell flat calm, and being within a couple of miles of the ship,
we expected to board her in a few moments, when a sudden breeze sprung up,
dead ahead for the ship, and she braced up and stood off toward the islands,
sharp on the larboard tack, making good way through the water. This, of
course, brought us up, and we had only to "ease larboard oars; pull round
starboard!" and go aboard the Alert, with something very like a flea in the
ear. There was a light land-breeze all night, and the ship did not come to
anchor until the next morning. As soon as her anchor was down, we went aboard,
and found her to be the whaleship, Wilmington and Liverpool Packet, of New
Bedford, last from the "off-shore ground," with nineteen hundred barrels of
oil. A "spouter" we knew her to be as soon as we saw her, by her cranes and
boats, and by her stump top-gallant masts, and certain slovenly look to the
sails, rigging, spars and hull; and when we got on board, we found everything
to correspond, - spouter fashion. She had a false deck which was rough and
oily, and cut in every direction by the chimes of oil casks; her rigging was
slack and turning white; no paint on the sparks or blocks; clumsy seizings and
straps without covers, and homeward-bound splices in every direction. Her
crew, too, were not in much better order. Her captain was a slab-sided,
shamble-legged Quaker, in a suit of brown, with a broad-brimmed hat, and
sneaking about decks, like a sheep, with his head down; and the men looked
more like fishermen and farmers than they did like sailors.
Though it was by no means cold weather, (we having on only our red shirts
and duck trowsers,) they all had on woollen trowsers - not blue and ship-shape
but of all colors - brown, drab, grey, aye, and green, with suspenders over
their shoulders, and pockets to put their hands in. This, added to guernsey
frocks, striped comforters about the neck, thick cowhide boots, woollen caps,
and a strong oily smell, and a decidedly green look, will complete the
description. Eight or ten were on the fore-topsail yard, and as many more in
the main, furling the to sails, while eight or ten were hanging about the
forecastle, doing nothing. This was a strange sight for a vessel coming to
anchor; so we went up to them, to see what was the matter. One of them, a
stout, hearty-looking fellow, held out his leg and said he had the scurvy;
another had cut his hand; and others had got nearly well, but said that there
were plenty aloft to furl the sails, so they were sogering on the forecastle.
There was only one "splicer" on board, a fine-looking old tar, who was in the
bunt of the fore-topsail. He was probably the only sailor in the ship, before
the mast. The mates, of course, and the boat-steerers, and also two or three
of the crew, had been to sea before, but only whaling voyages; and the greater
part of the crew were raw hands, just from the bush, as green as cabbages, and
had not yet got the hay-seed out of their heads. The mizen-topsail hung in the
bunt-lines until everything was furled forward. Thus a crew of thirty men
were half an hour in doing what would have been done in the Alert with
eighteen hands to go aloft, in fifteen or twenty minutes.
We found they had been at sea six or eight months, and had no news to
tell us; so we left them, and promised to get liberty to come on board in the
evening, for some curiosities, etc. Accordingly, as soon as we were knocked
off in the evening and had got supper, we obtained leave, took a boat, and
went aboard and spent an hour or two. They gave us pieces of whalebone, and
the teeth and other parts of curious sea animals, and we exchanged books with
them - a practice very common among ships in foreign ports, by which you get
rid of the books you have read and re-read, and a supply of new ones in
their stead, and Jack is not very nice as to their comparative value.
Thursday, Nov. 12th. This day was quite cool in the early part, and there
were black clouds about; but as it was often so in the morning, nothing was
apprehended, and all the captains went ashore together, to spend the day.
Towards noon, the clouds hung heavily over the mountains, coming half way down
the hills that encircle the town of Santa Barbara, and a heavy swell rolled in
from the south-east. The mate immediately ordered the gig`s crew away, and
at the same time, we saw boats pulling ashore from the other vessels. Here was
a grand chance for a rowing match, and every one did his best. We passed the
boats of the Ayacucho and Loriotte, but could gain nothing upon, and indeed,
hardly hold our own with, the long, six-oared boat of the whale-ship. They
reached the breakers before us; but here we had the advantage of them, for,
not being used to the surf, they were obliged to wait to see us beach our
boat, just as, in the same place, nearly a year before, we, in the Pilgrim,
were glad to be taught by a boat`s crew of Kanakas.
We had hardly got the boats beached, and their heads out, before our old
friend, Bill Jackson, the handsome English sailor, who steered the Loriotte`s
boat, called out that the brig was adrift; and, sure enough, she was dragging
her anchors, and drifting down into the bight of the bay. Without waiting for
the captain, (for there was no one on board but the mate and steward,) he
sprung into the boat, called the Kanakas together, and tried to put off. But
the Kanakas, though capital water-dogs, were frightened by their vessel`s
being adrift, and by the emergency of the case, and seemed to lose their
faculties. Twice, their boat filled, and came broadside upon the beach.
Jackson swore at them for a parcel of savages, and promised to flog every one
of them. This made the matter no better; when we came forward, told the
Kanakas to take their seats in the boat, and, going two on each side, walked
out with her till it was up to our shoulders, and gave them a shove, when,
giving way with their oars, they got her safely into the long, regular swell.
In the mean time, boats had put off from our ships and the whaler, and coming
all on board the brig together, they let go the other anchor, paid out chain,
braced the yards to the wind, and brought the vessel up.
|
