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 rope-yarns 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 rake them upon 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 taut 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 are 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 been
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 now 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 tauter; 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 south-easter; 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 head 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 south-easter, 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 duck-pond. 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 than 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 los 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 off-shore, 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.