<SPAN name="chap26"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER XXVI </h3>
<h3> SAN FRANCISCO—MONTEREY </h3>
<p>Our place of destination had been Monterey, but as we were to the
northward of it when the wind hauled a-head, we made a fair wind for
San Francisco. This large bay, which lies in latitude 37° 58', was
discovered by Sir Francis Drake, and by him represented to be (as
indeed it is) a magnificent bay, containing several good harbors, great
depth of water, and surrounded by a fertile and finely wooded country.
About thirty miles from the mouth of the bay, and on the south-east
side, is a high point, upon which the presidio is built. Behind this,
is the harbor in which trading vessels anchor, and near it, the mission
of San Francisco, and a newly begun settlement, mostly of Yankee
Californians, called Yerba Buena, which promises well. Here, at
anchor, and the only vessel, was a brig under Russian colors, from
Asitka, in Russian America, which had come down to winter, and to take
in a supply of tallow and grain, great quantities of which latter
article are raised in the missions at the head of the bay. The second
day after our arrival, we went on board the brig, it being Sunday, as a
matter of curiosity; and there was enough there to gratify it. Though
no larger than the Pilgrim, she had five or six officers, and a crew of
between twenty and thirty; and such a stupid and greasy-looking set, I
certainly never saw before. Although it was quite comfortable weather,
and we had nothing on but straw hats, shirts, and duck trowsers, and
were barefooted, they had, every man of them, double-soled boots,
coming up to the knees, and well greased; thick woolen trowsers,
frocks, waistcoats, pea-jackets, woolen caps, and everything in true
Nova Zembla rig; and in the warmest days they made no change. The
clothing of one of these men would weigh nearly as much as that of half
our crew. They had brutish faces, looked like the antipodes of
sailors, and apparently dealt in nothing but grease. They lived upon
grease; eat it, drank it, slept in the midst of it, and their clothes
were covered with it. To a Russian, grease is the greatest luxury.
They looked with greedy eyes upon the tallow-bags as they were taken
into the vessel, and, no doubt, would have eaten one up whole, had not
the officer kept watch over it. The grease seemed actually coming
through their pores, and out in their hair, and on their faces. It
seems as if it were this saturation which makes them stand cold and
rain so well. If they were to go into a warm climate, they would all
die of the scurvy.</p>
<p>The vessel was no better than the crew. Everything was in the oldest
and most inconvenient fashion possible; running trusses on the yards,
and large hawser cables, coiled all over the decks, and served and
parcelled in all directions. The topmasts, top-gallant masts and
studding-sail booms were nearly black for want of scraping, and the
decks would have turned the stomach of a man-of-war's-man. The galley
was down in the forecastle; and there the crew lived, in the midst of
the steam and grease of the cooking, in a place as hot as an oven, and
as dirty as a pigsty. Five minutes in the forecastle was enough for
us, and we were glad to get into the open air. We made some trade with
them, buying Indian curiosities, of which they had a great number; such
as bead-work, feathers of birds, fur moccasins, etc. I purchased a
large robe, made of the skins of some animals, dried and sewed nicely
together, and covered all over on the outside with thick downy
feathers, taken from the breasts of various birds, and arranged with
their different colors, so as to make a brilliant show.</p>
<p>A few days after our arrival, the rainy season set in, and, for three
weeks, it rained almost every hour, without cessation. This was bad for
our trade, for the collecting of hides is managed differently in this
port from what it is in any other on the coast. The mission of San
Francisco near the anchorage, has no trade at all, but those of San
José, Santa Clara, and others, situated on large creeks or rivers which
run into the bay, and distant between fifteen and forty miles from the
anchorage, do a greater business in hides than any in California.
Large boats, manned by Indians, and capable of carrying nearly a
thousand hides apiece, are attached to the missions, and sent down to
the vessels with hides, to bring away goods in return. Some of the
crews of the vessels are obliged to go and come in the boats, to look
out for the hides and goods. These are favorite expeditions with the
sailors, in fine weather; but now to be gone three or four days, in
open boats, in constant rain, without any shelter, and with cold food,
was hard service. Two of our men went up to Santa Clara in one of these
boats, and were gone three days, during all which time they had a
constant rain, and did not sleep a wink, but passed three long nights,
walking fore and aft the boat, in the open air. When they got on
board, they were completely exhausted, and took a watch below of twelve
hours. All the hides, too, that came down in the boats, were soaked
with water, and unfit to put below, so that we were obliged to trice
them up to dry, in the intervals of sunshine or wind, upon all parts of
the vessel. We got up tricing-lines from the jib-boom-end to each arm
of the fore yard, and thence to the main and cross-jack yard-arms.
Between the tops, too, and the mast-heads, from the fore to the main
swifters, and thence to the mizen rigging, and in all directions
athwartships, tricing-lines were run, and strung with hides. The head
stays and guys, and the spritsail-yard, were lined, and, having still
more, we got out the swinging booms, and strung them and the forward
and after guys, with hides. The rail, fore and aft, the windlass,
capstan, the sides of the ship, and every vacant place on deck, were
covered with wet hides, on the least sign of an interval for drying.
Our ship was nothing but a mass of hides, from the cat-harpins to the
water's edge, and from the jib-boom-end to the taffrail.</p>
<p>One cold, rainy evening, about eight o'clock, I received orders to get
ready to start for San José at four the next morning, in one of these
Indian boats, with four days' provisions. I got my oil-cloth clothes,
south-wester, and thick boots all ready, and turned into my hammock
early, determined to get some sleep in advance, as the boat was to be
alongside before daybreak. I slept on till all hands were called in
the morning; for, fortunately for me, the Indians, intentionally, or
from mistaking their orders, had gone off alone in the night, and were
far out of sight. Thus I escaped three or four days of very
uncomfortable service.</p>
<p>Four of our men, a few days afterwards, went up in one of the
quarter-boats to Santa Clara, to carry the agent, and remained out all
night in a drenching rain, in the small boat, where there was not room
for them to turn round; the agent having gone up to the mission and
left the men to their fate, making no provision for their
accommodation, and not even sending them anything to eat. After this,
they had to pull thirty miles, and when they got on board, were so
stiff that they could not come up the gangway ladder. This filled up
the measure of the agent's unpopularity, and never after this could he
get anything done by any of the crew; and many a delay and vexation,
and many a good ducking in the surf, did he get to pay up old scores,
or "square the yards with the bloody quill-driver."</p>
<p>Having collected nearly all the hides that were to be procured, we
began our preparations for taking in a supply of wood and water, for
both of which, San Francisco is the best place on the coast. A small
island, situated about two leagues from the anchorage, called by us
"Wood Island," and by the Spaniards "Isle de los Angelos," was covered
with trees to the water's edge; and to this, two of our crew, who were
Kennebec men, and could handle an axe like a plaything, were sent every
morning to cut wood, with two boys to pile it up for them. In about a
week, they had cut enough to last us a year, and the third mate, with
myself and three others, were sent over in a large, schooner-rigged,
open launch, which we had hired of the mission, to take in the wood,
and bring it to the ship. We left the ship about noon, but, owing to a
strong head wind, and a tide, which here runs four or five knots, did
not get into the harbor, formed by two points of the island, where the
boats lie, until sundown. No sooner had we come-to, than a strong
south-easter, which had been threatening us all day, set in, with heavy
rain and a chilly atmosphere. We were in rather a bad situation: an
open boat, a heavy rain, and a long night; for in winter, in this
latitude, it was dark nearly fifteen hours. Taking a small skiff which
we had brought with us, we went ashore, but found no shelter, for
everything was open to the rain, and collecting a little wood, which we
found by lifting up the leaves and brush, and a few mussels, we put
aboard again, and made the best preparations in our power for passing
the night. We unbent the mainsail, and formed an awning with it over
the after part of the boat, made a bed of wet logs of wood, and, with
our jackets on, lay down, about six o'clock, to sleep. Finding the rain
running down upon us, and our jackets getting wet through, and the
rough, knotty-logs, rather indifferent couches, we turned out; and
taking an iron pan which we brought with us, we wiped it out dry, put
some stones around it, cut the wet bark from some sticks, and striking
a light, made a small fire in the pan. Keeping some sticks near, to
dry, and covering the whole over with a roof of boards, we kept up a
small fire, by which we cooked our mussels, and ate them, rather for an
occupation than from hunger. Still, it was not ten o'clock, and the
night was long before us, when one of the party produced an old pack of
Spanish cards from his monkey-jacket pocket, which we hailed as a great
windfall; and keeping a dim, flickering light by our fagots, we played
game after game, till one or two o'clock, when, becoming really tired,
we went to our logs again, one sitting up at a time, in turn, to keep
watch over the fire. Toward morning, the rain ceased, and the air
became sensibly colder, so that we found sleep impossible, and sat up,
watching for daybreak. No sooner was it light than we went ashore, and
began our preparations for loading our vessel. We were not mistaken in
the coldness of the weather, for a white frost was on the ground, a
thing we had never seen before in California, and one or two little
puddles of fresh water were skimmed over with a thin coat of ice. In
this state of the weather and before sunrise, in the grey of the
morning, we had to wade off, nearly up to our hips in water, to load
the skiff with the wood by armsfull. The third mate remained on board
the launch, two more men staid in the skiff, to load and manage it, and
all the water-work, as usual, fell upon the two youngest of us; and
there we were, with frost on the ground, wading forward and back, from
the beach to the boat, with armsfull of wood, barefooted, and our
trowsers rolled up. When the skiff went off with her load, we could
only keep our feet from freezing by racing up and down the beach on the
hard sand, as fast as we could go. We were all day at this work, and
towards sundown, having loaded the vessel as deep as she would bear, we
hove up our anchor, and made sail, beating out the bay. No sooner had
we got into the large bay, than we found a strong tide setting us out
to seaward, a thick fog which prevented our seeing the ship, and a
breeze too light to set us against the tide; for we were as deep as a
sand-barge. By the utmost exertions, we saved ourselves from being
carried out to sea, and were glad to reach the leewardmost point of the
island, where we came-to, and prepared to pass another night, more
uncomfortable than the first, for we were loaded up to the gunwale, and
had only a choice among logs and sticks for a resting-place. The next
morning, we made sail at slack water, with a fair wind, and got on
board by eleven o'clock, when all hands were turned-to, to unload and
stow away the wood, which took till night.</p>
<p>Having now taken in all our wood, the next morning a water-party was
ordered off with all the casks. From this we escaped, having had a
pretty good siege with the wooding. The water-party were gone three
days, during which time they narrowly escaped being carried out to sea,
and passed one day on an island, where one of them shot a deer, great
numbers of which overrun the islands and hills of San Francisco Bay.</p>
<p>While not off, on these wood and water parties, or up the rivers to the
missions, we had very easy times on board the ship. We were moored,
stem and stern, within a cable's length of the shore, safe from
south-easters, and with very little boating to do; and as it rained
nearly all the time, awnings were put over the hatchways, and all hands
sent down between decks, where we were at work, day after day, picking
oakum, until we got enough to caulk the ship all over, and to last the
whole voyage. Then we made a whole suit of gaskets for the voyage
home, a pair of wheel-ropes from strips of green hide, great quantities
of spun-yarn, and everything else that could be made between decks. It
being now mid-winter and in high latitude, the nights were very long,
so that we were not turned-to until seven in the morning, and were
obliged to knock off at five in the evening, when we got supper; which
gave us nearly three hours before eight bells, at which time the watch
was set.</p>
<p>As we had now been about a year on the coast, it was time to think of
the voyage home; and knowing that the last two or three months of our
stay would be very busy ones, and that we should never have so good an
opportunity to work for ourselves as the present, we all employed our
evenings in making clothes for the passage home, and more especially
for Cape Horn. As soon as supper was over and the kids cleared away,
and each one had taken his smoke, we seated ourselves on our chests
round the lamp, which swung from a beam, and each one went to work in
his own way, some making hats, others trowsers, others jackets, etc.,
etc.; and no one was idle. The boys who could not sew well enough to
make their own clothes, laid up grass into sinnet for the men, who
sewed for them in return. Several of us clubbed together and bought a
large piece of twilled cotton, which we made into trowsers and jackets,
and giving them several coats of linseed oil, laid them by for Cape
Horn. I also sewed and covered a tarpaulin hat, thick and strong
enough to sit down upon, and made myself a complete suit of flannel
under-clothing, for bad weather. Those who had no south-wester caps,
made them, and several of the crew made themselves tarpaulin jackets
and trowsers, lined on the inside with flannel. Industry was the order
of the day, and every one did something for himself; for we knew that
as the season advanced, and we went further south, we should have no
evenings to work in.</p>
<p>Friday, December 25th. This day was Christmas; and as it rained all
day long, and there were no hides to take in, and nothing especial to
do, the captain gave us a holiday, (the first we had had since leaving
Boston,) and plum duff for dinner. The Russian brig, following the Old
Style, had celebrated their Christmas eleven days before; when they had
a grand blow-out and (as our men said) drank, in the forecastle, a
barrel of gin, ate up a bag of tallow, and made a soup of the skin.</p>
<p>Sunday, December 27th. We had now finished all our business at this
port, and it being Sunday, we unmoored ship and got under weigh, firing
a salute to the Russian brig, and another to the Presidio, which were
both answered. The commandant of the Presidio, Don Gaudaloupe Villego,
a young man, and the most popular, among the Americans and English, of
any man in California, was on board when we got under weigh. He spoke
English very well, and was suspected of being favorably inclined to
foreigners.</p>
<p>We sailed down this magnificent bay with a light wind, the tide, which
was running out, carrying us at the rate of four or five knots. It was
a fine day; the first of entire sunshine we had had for more than a
month. We passed directly under the high cliff on which the Presidio
is built, and stood into the middle of the bay, from whence we could
see small bays, making up into the interior, on every side; large and
beautifully-wooded islands; and the mouths of several small rivers. If
California ever becomes a prosperous country, this bay will be the
centre of its prosperity. The abundance of wood and water, the extreme
fertility of its shores, the excellence of its climate, which is as
near to being perfect as any in the world, and its facilities for
navigation, affording the best anchoring-grounds in the whole western
coast of America, all fit it for a place of great importance; and,
indeed, it has attracted much attention, for the settlement of "Yerba
Buena," where we lay at anchor, made chiefly by Americans and English,
and which bids fair to become the most important trading place on the
coast, at this time began to supply traders, Russian ships, and
whalers, with their stores of wheat and frijoles.</p>
<p>The tide leaving us, we came to anchor near the mouth of the bay, under
a high and beautifully sloping hill, upon which herds of hundreds and
hundreds of red deer, and the stag, with his high branching antlers,
were bounding about, looking at us for a moment, and then starting off,
affrighted at the noises which we made for the purpose of seeing the
variety of their beautiful attitudes and motions.</p>
<p>At midnight, the tide having turned, we hove up our anchor and stood
out of the bay, with a fine starry heaven above us,—the first we had
seen for weeks and weeks. Before the light northerly winds, which blow
here with the regularity of trades, we worked slowly along, and made
Point Año Nuevo, the northerly point of the Bay of Monterey, on Monday
afternoon. We spoke, going in, the brig Diana, of the Sandwich
Islands, from the North-west Coast, last from Asitka. She was off the
point at the same time with us, but did not get in to the
anchoring-ground until an hour or two after us. It was ten o'clock on
Tuesday morning when we came to anchor. The town looked just as it did
when I saw it last, which was eleven months before, in the brig
Pilgrim. The pretty lawn on which it stands, as green as sun and rain
could make it; the pine wood on the south; the small river on the north
side; the houses, with their white plastered sides and red-tiled roofs,
dotted about on the green; the low, white presidio, with its soiled,
tri-colored flag flying, and the discordant din of drums and trumpets
for the noon parade; all brought up the scene we had witnessed here
with so much pleasure nearly a year before, when coming from a long
voyage, and our unprepossessing reception at Santa Barbara. It seemed
almost like coming to a home.</p>
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