One of the best descriptions of California before it became part of the
United States was written by a young Bostonian, Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
This young man suffered eye trouble during his sophomore year at Harvard
and sailed for California in 1834 as a common sailor. After working 15
months on the California coast gathering hides, the cargo that American
ships carried home in exchange for manufactured products, he returned to
Harvard and completed his education. His book, _Two Years Before the
Mast_, from which the next selection is taken, is a splendid adventure
story.
Just before sun-down the mate ordered a boat’s crew ashore, and I went
as one of the number. We passed under the stern of the English brig,
and had a long pull ashore. I shall never forget the impression which
our first landing on the beach of California made upon me. The sun had
just gone down; it was getting dusky; the damp night wind was
beginning to blow, and the heavy swell of the Pacific was setting in,
and breaking in loud and high “combers” upon the beach. We lay on our
oars in the swell, just outside of the surf, waiting for a good chance
to run in, when a boat, which had put off from the _Ayacucho_ just
after us, came alongside of us, with a crew of dusky Sandwich
Islanders, talking and hallooing in their outlandish tongue. [_This
landing took place at Santa Barbara._]
They knew that we were novices in this kind of boating, and waited to
see us go in. The second mate, however, who steered our boat,
determined to have the advantage of their experience, and would not go
in first. Finding, at length, how matters stood, they gave a shout,
and taking advantage of a great comber which came swelling in, rearing
its head, and lifting up the stern of our boat nearly perpendicular,
and again dropping it in the trough, they gave three or four long and
strong pulls, and went in on top of the great wave, throwing their
oars overboard, and as far from the boat as they could throw them, and
jumping out the instant that the boat touched the beach, and then
seizing hold of her and running her up high and dry upon the sand.
We saw, at once, how it was to be done, and also the necessity of
keeping the boat “stern on” to the sea; for the instant the sea should
strike upon her broad-side or quarter, she would be driven up
broad-side on, and capsized. We pulled strongly in, and as soon as we
felt that the sea had got hold of us and was carrying us in with the
speed of a race-horse, we threw the oars as far from the boat as we
could, and took hold of the gunwale, ready to spring out and seize her
when she struck, the officer using his utmost strength to keep her
stern on. We were shot up upon the beach like an arrow from a bow, and
seizing the boat, ran her up high and dry, and soon picked up our
oars, and stood by her, ready for the captain to come down.
Finding that the captain did not come immediately, we put our oars in
the boat, and leaving one to watch it, walked about the beach to see
what we could of the place. The beach is nearly a mile in length
between the two points, and of smooth sand. We had taken the only good
landing-place, which is in the middle; it being more stony toward the
ends. It is about twenty yards in width from high-water mark to a
slight bank at which the soil begins, and so hard that it is a
favorite place for running horses. It was growing dark, so that we
could just distinguish the dim outlines of the two vessels in the
offing; and the great seas were rolling in, in regular lines, growing
larger and larger as they approached the shore, and hanging over the
beach upon which they were to break, when their tops would curl over
and turn white with foam, and, beginning at one extreme of the line,
break rapidly to the other, as a long card-house falls when the
children knock down the cards at one end.
The Sandwich Islanders, in the meantime, had turned their boat round,
and ran her down into the water, and were loading her with hides and
tallow. As this was the work in which we were soon to be engaged, we
looked on with some curiosity. They ran the boat into the water so far
that every large sea might float her, and two of them, with their
trousers rolled up, stood by the bows, one on each side, keeping her
in her right position. This was hard work; for beside the force they
had to use upon the boat, the large seas nearly took them off their
legs. The others were running from the boat to the bank, upon which,
out of the reach of the water, was a pile of dry bullocks’ hides,
doubled lengthwise in the middle, and nearly as stiff as boards. These
they took upon their heads, one or two at a time, and carried down to
the boat, where one of their number stowed them away. They were
obliged to carry them on their heads, to keep them out of the water,
and we observed that they had on thick woolen caps. “Look here, Bill,
and see what you’re coming to!” said one of our men to another who
stood by the boat. “Well, D——,” said the second mate to me, “this does
not look much like Cambridge college, does it? This is what I call
‘_head work_’.” To tell the truth, it did not look very encouraging.