<SPAN name="chap16"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER XVI </h3>
<h3> LIBERTY-DAY ON SHORE </h3>
<p>The next day being Sunday, after washing and clearing decks, and
getting breakfast, the mate came forward with leave for one watch to go
ashore, on liberty. We drew lots, and it fell to the larboard, which I
was in. Instantly all was preparation. Buckets of fresh water, (which
we were allowed in port,) and soap, were put in use; go-ashore jackets
and trowsers got out and brushed; pumps, neckerchiefs, and hats
overhauled; one lending to another; so that among the whole each one
got a good fit-out. A boat was called to pull the "liberty men"
ashore, and we sat down in the stern sheets, "as big as pay
passengers," and jumping ashore, set out on our walk for the town,
which was nearly three miles off.</p>
<p>It is a pity that some other arrangement is not made in merchant
vessels, with regard to the liberty-day. When in port, the crews are
kept at work all the week, and the only day they are allowed for rest
or pleasure is the Sabbath; and unless they go ashore on that day, they
cannot go at all. I have heard of a religious captain who gave his
crew liberty on Saturdays, after twelve o'clock. This would be a good
plan, if shipmasters would bring themselves to give their crews so much
time. For young sailors especially, many of whom have been brought up
with a regard for the sacredness of the day, this strong temptation to
break it, is exceedingly injurious. As it is, it can hardly be expected
that a crew, on a long and hard voyage, will refuse a few hours of
freedom from toil and the restraints of a vessel, and an opportunity to
tread the ground and see the sights of society and humanity, because it
is on a Sunday. It is too much like escaping from prison, or being
drawn out of a pit, on the Sabbath day.</p>
<p>I shall never forget the delightful sensation of being in the open air,
with the birds singing around me, and escaped from the confinement,
labor, and strict rule of a vessel—of being once more in my life,
though only for a day, my own master. A sailor's liberty is but for a
day; yet while it lasts it is perfect. He is under no one's eye, and
can do whatever, and go wherever, he pleases. This day, for the first
time, I may truly say, in my whole life, I felt the meaning of a term
which I had often heard—the sweets of liberty. My friend S—— was
with me, and turning our backs upon the vessels, we walked slowly
along, talking of the pleasure of being our own masters, of the times
past, and when we were free in the midst of friends, in America, and of
the prospect of our return; and planning where we would go, and what we
would do, when we reached home. It was wonderful how the prospect
brightened, and how short and tolerable the voyage appeared, when
viewed in this new light. Things looked differently from what they did
when we talked them over in the little dark forecastle, the night after
the flogging at San Pedro. It is not the least of the advantages of
allowing sailors occasionally a day of liberty, that it gives them a
spring, and makes them feel cheerful and independent, and leads them
insensibly to look on the bright side of everything for some time after.</p>
<p>S—— and myself determined to keep as much together as possible,
though we knew that it would not do to cut our shipmates; for, knowing
our birth and education, they were a little suspicious that we would
try to put on the gentleman when we got ashore, and would be ashamed of
their company; and this won't do with Jack. When the voyage is at an
end, you may do as you please, but so long as you belong to the same
vessel, you must be a shipmate to him on shore, or he will not be a
shipmate to you on board. Being forewarned of this before I went to
sea, I took no "long togs" with me, and being dressed like the rest, in
white duck trowsers, blue jacket and straw hat, which would prevent my
going in better company, and showing no disposition to avoid them, I
set all suspicion at rest. Our crew fell in with some who belonged to
the other vessels, and, sailor-like, steered for the first grog-shop.
This was a small mud building, of only one room, in which were liquors,
dry and West India goods, shoes, bread, fruits, and everything which is
vendible in California. It was kept by a yankee, a one-eyed man, who
belonged formerly to Fall River, came out to the Pacific in a
whale-ship, left her at the Sandwich Islands, and came to California
and set up a "Pulperia." S—— and I followed in our shipmates' wake,
knowing that to refuse to drink with them would be the highest affront,
but determining to slip away at the first opportunity. It is the
universal custom with sailors for each one, in his turn, to treat the
whole, calling for a glass all round, and obliging every one who is
present, even the keeper of the shop, to take a glass with him. When
we first came in, there was some dispute between our crew and the
others, whether the new comers or the old California rangers should
treat first; but it being settled in favor of the latter, each of the
crews of the other vessels treated all round in their turn, and as
there were a good many present, (including some "loafers" who had
dropped in, knowing what was going on, to take advantage of Jack's
hospitality,) and the liquor was a real (12½ cents) a glass, it made
somewhat of a hole in their lockers. It was now our ship's turn, and
S—— and I, anxious to get away, stepped up to call for glasses; but
we soon found that we must go in order—the oldest first, for the old
sailors did not choose to be preceded by a couple of youngsters; and
bon gré mal gré, we had to wait our turn, with the twofold apprehension
of being too late for our horses, and of getting corned; for drink you
must, every time; and if you drink with one and not with another, it is
always taken as an insult.</p>
<p>Having at length gone through our turns and acquitted ourselves of all
obligations, we slipped out, and went about among the houses,
endeavoring to get horses for the day, so that we might ride round and
see the country. At first we had but little success, all that we could
get out of the lazy fellows, in reply to our questions, being the
eternal drawling "Quien sabe?" ("who knows?") which is an answer to all
questions. After several efforts, we at length fell in with a little
Sandwich Island boy, who belonged to Captain Wilson of the Ayacucho,
and was well acquainted in the place; and he, knowing where to go, soon
procured us two horses, ready saddled and bridled, each with a lasso
coiled over the pommel. These we were to have all day, with the
privilege of riding them down to the beach at night, for a dollar,
which we had to pay in advance. Horses are the cheapest thing in
California; the very best not being worth more than ten dollars apiece,
and very good ones being often sold for three, and four. In taking a
day's ride, you pay for the use of the saddle, and for the labor and
trouble of catching the horses. If you bring the saddle back safe,
they care but little what becomes of the horse. Mounted on our horses,
which were spirited beasts, and which, by the way, in this country, are
always steered by pressing the contrary rein against the neck, and not
by pulling on the bit,—we started off on a fine run over the country.
The first place we went to was the old ruinous presidio, which stands
on a rising ground near the village, which it overlooks. It is built
in the form of an open square, like all the other presidios, and was in
a most ruinous state, with the exception of one side, in which the
commandant lived, with his family. There were only two guns, one of
which was spiked, and the other had no carriage. Twelve, half clothed,
and half starved looking fellows, composed the garrison; and they, it
was said, had not a musket apiece. The small settlement lay directly
below the fort, composed of about forty dark brown looking huts, or
houses, and two larger ones, plastered, which belonged to two of the
"gente de razón." This town is not more than half as large as
Monterey, or Santa Barbara, and has little or no business. From the
presidio, we rode off in the direction of the mission, which we were
told was three miles distant. The country was rather sandy, and there
was nothing for miles which could be called a tree, but the grass grew
green and rank, and there were many bushes and thickets, and the soil
is said to be good. After a pleasant ride of a couple of miles, we saw
the white walls of the mission, and fording a small river, we came
directly before it. The mission is built of mud, or rather of the
unburnt bricks of the country, and plastered. There was something
decidedly striking in its appearance: a number of irregular buildings,
connected with one another, and disposed in the form of a hollow
square, with a church at one end, rising above the rest, with a tower
containing five belfries, in each of which hung a large bell, and with
immense rusty iron crosses at the tops. Just outside of the buildings,
and under the walls, stood twenty or thirty small huts, built of straw
and of the branches of trees, grouped together, in which a few Indians
lived, under the protection and in the service of the mission.</p>
<p>Entering a gate-way, we drove into the open square, in which the
stillness of death reigned. On one side was the church; on another, a
range of high buildings with grated windows; a third was a range of
smaller buildings, or offices; and the fourth seemed to be little more
than a high connecting wall. Not a living creature could we see. We
rode twice round the square, in the hope of waking up some one; and in
one circuit, saw a tall monk, with shaven head, sandals, and the dress
of the Grey Friars, pass rapidly through a gallery, but he disappeared
without noticing us. After two circuits, we stopped our horses, and
saw, at last, a man show himself in front of one of the small
buildings. We rode up to him, and found him dressed in the common
dress of the country, with a silver chain round his neck, supporting a
large bunch of keys. From this, we took him to be the steward of the
mission, and addressing him as "Mayordomo," received a low bow and an
invitation to walk into his room. Making our horses fast, we went in.
It was a plain room, containing a table, three or four chairs, a small
picture or two of some saint, or miracle, or martyrdom, and a few
dishes and glasses. "Hay algunas cosa de comer?" said I. "Si Señor!"
said he. "Que gusta usted?" Mentioning frijoles, which I knew they
must have if they had nothing else, and beef and bread, and a hint for
wine, if they had any, he went off to another building, across the
court, and returned in a few moments, with a couple of Indian boys,
bearing dishes and a decanter of wine. The dishes contained baked
meats, frijoles stewed with peppers and onions, boiled eggs, and
California flour baked into a kind of macaroni. These, together with
the wine, made the most sumptuous meal we had eaten since we left
Boston; and, compared with the fare we had lived upon for seven months,
it was a regal banquet. After despatching our meal, we took out some
money and asked him how much we were to pay. He shook his head, and
crossed himself, saying that it was charity:—that the Lord gave it to
us. Knowing the amount of this to be that he did not sell it, but was
willing to receive a present, we gave him ten or twelve reals, which he
pocketed with admirable nonchalance, saying, "Dios se lo pague."
Taking leave of him, we rode out to the Indians' huts. The little
children were running about among the huts, stark naked, and the men
were not much better; but the women had generally coarse gowns, of a
sort of tow cloth. The men are employed, most of the time, in tending
the cattle of the mission, and in working in the garden, which is a
very large one, including several acres, and filled, it is said, with
the best fruits of the climate. The language of these people, which is
spoken by all the Indians of California, is the most brutish and
inhuman language, without any exception, that I ever heard, or that
could well be conceived of. It is a complete slabber. The words fall
off of the ends of their tongues, and a continual slabbering sound is
made in the cheeks, outside of the teeth. It cannot have been the
language of Montezuma and the independent Mexicans.</p>
<p>Here, among the huts, we saw the oldest man that I had ever seen; and,
indeed, I never supposed that a person could retain life and exhibit
such marks of age. He was sitting out in the sun, leaning against the
side of a hut; and his legs and arms, which were bare, were of a dark
red color, the skin withered and shrunk up like burnt leather, and the
limbs not larger round than those of a boy of five years. He had a few
grey hairs, which were tied together at the back of his head; and he
was so feeble that, when we came up to him, he raised his hands slowly
to his face, and taking hold of his lids with his fingers, lifted them
up to look at us; and being satisfied, let them drop again. All
command over the lid seemed to have gone. I asked his age, but could
get no answer but "Quien sabe?" and they probably did not know the age.</p>
<p>Leaving the mission, we returned to village, going nearly all the way
on a full run. The California horses have no medium gait, which is
pleasant, between walking and running; for as there are no streets and
parades, they have no need of the genteel trot, and their riders
usually keep them at the top of their speed until they are fired, and
then let them rest themselves by walking. The fine air of the
afternoon; the rapid rate of the animals, who seemed almost to fly over
the ground; and the excitement and novelty of the motion to us, who had
been so long confined on shipboard, were exhilarating beyond
expression, and we felt willing to ride all day long. Coming into the
village, we found things looking very lively. The Indians, who always
have a holyday on Sunday, were engaged at playing a kind of running
game of ball, on a level piece of ground, near the houses. The old
ones sat down in a ring, looking on, while the young ones—men, boys
and girls—were chasing the ball, and throwing it with all their might.
Some of the girls ran like greyhounds. At every accident, or
remarkable feat, the old people set up a deafening screaming and
clapping of hands. Several blue jackets were reeling about among the
houses, which showed that the pulperias had been well patronized. One
or two of the sailors had got on horseback, but being rather
indifferent horsemen, and the Spaniards having given them vicious
horses, they were soon thrown, much to the amusement of the people. A
half dozen Sandwich Islanders, from the hide-houses and the two brigs,
who are bold riders, were dashing about on the full gallop, hallooing
and laughing like so many wild men.</p>
<p>It was now nearly sundown, and S—— and myself went into a house and
sat quietly down to rest ourselves before going down to the beach.
Several people were soon collected to see "los Ingles marineros," and
one of them—a young woman—took a great fancy to my pocket
handkerchief, which was a large silk one that I had before going to
sea, and a handsomer one than they had been in the habit of seeing. Of
course, I gave it to her; which brought us into high favor; and we had
a present of some pears and other fruits, which we took down to the
beach with us. When we came to leave the house, we found that our
horses, which we left tied at the door, were both gone. We had paid
for them to ride down to the beach, but they were not to be found. We
went to the man of whom we hired them, but he only shrugged his
shoulders, and to our question, "Where are the horses?" only
answered—"Quien sabe?" but as he was very easy, and made no inquiries
for the saddles, we saw that he knew very well where they were. After
a little trouble, determined not to walk down,—a distance of three
miles—we procured two, at four reals apiece, with an Indian boy to run
on behind and bring them back. Determined to have "the go" out of the
horses, for our trouble, we went down at full speed, and were on the
beach in fifteen minutes. Wishing to make our liberty last as long as
possible, we rode up and down among the hide-houses, amusing ourselves
with seeing the men, as they came down, (it was now dusk,) some on
horseback and others on foot. The Sandwich Islanders rode down, and
were in "high snuff." We inquired for our shipmates, and were told that
two of them had started on horseback and had been thrown or had fallen
off, and were seen heading for the beach, but steering pretty wild, and
by the looks of things, would not be down much before midnight.</p>
<p>The Indian boys having arrived, we gave them our horses, and having
seen them safely off, hailed for a boat and went aboard. Thus ended our
first liberty-day on shore. We were well tired, but had had a good
time, and were more willing to go back to our old duties. About
midnight, we were waked up by our two watchmates, who had come aboard
in high dispute. It seems they had started to come down on the same
horse, double-backed; and each was accusing the other of being the
cause of his fall. They soon, however, turned-in and fell asleep, and
probably forgot all about it, for the next morning the dispute was not
renewed.</p>
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