California extends along nearly the whole of the western coast of
Mexico, between the Gulf of California in the south and the Bay of
San Francisco on the north, or between the 22d and 38th degrees of
north latitude. It is subdivided into two provinces,-- Lower or Old
California, lying between the gulf and the 32d degree of latitude,
or near it (the division line running, I believe, between the bay
of Todos Santos and the port of San Diego), and New or Upper
California, the southernmost port of which is San Diego, in lat.
32° 39', and the northernmost, San Francisco, situated in the large
bay discovered by Sir Francis Drake, in lat. 37° 58', and now known
as the Bay of San Francisco, so named, I suppose, by Franciscan
missionaries. Upper California has the seat of its government at
Monterey, where is also the custom-house, the only one on the
coast, and at which every vessel intending to trade on the coast
must enter its cargo before it can begin its traffic. We were to
trade upon this coast exclusively, and therefore expected to go
first to Monterey, but the captain's orders from home were to put
in at Santa Barbara, which is the central port of the coast, and
wait there for the agent, who transacts all the business for the
firm to which our vessel belonged.
The bay, or, as it was commonly called, the canal of Santa
Barbara, is very large, being formed by the main land on one side
(between Point Conception on the north and Point Santa
Buenaventura on the south), which here bends in like a crescent,
and by three large islands opposite to it and at the distance of
some twenty miles. These points are just sufficient to give it the
name of a bay, while at the same time it is so large and so much
exposed to the southeast and northwest winds, that it is little
better than an open roadstead; and the whole swell of the Pacific
Ocean rolls in here before a southeaster, and breaks with so heavy
a surf in the shallow waters, that it is highly dangerous to lie
near in to the shore during the southeaster season, that is,
between the months of November and April.
This wind (the southeaster) is the bane of the coast of
California. Between the months of November and April (including a
part of each), which is the rainy season in this latitude, you are
never safe from it; and accordingly, in the ports which are open
to it, vessels are obliged, during these months, to lie at anchor
at a distance of three miles from the shore, with slip-ropes on
their cables, ready to slip and go to sea at a moment's warning.
The only ports which are safe from this wind are San Francisco and
Monterey in the north, and San Diego in the south.
As it was January when we arrived, and the middle of the
southeaster season, we came to anchor at the distance of three
miles from the shore, in eleven fathoms water, and bent a
slip-rope and buoys to our cables, cast off the yard-arm gaskets
from the sails, and stopped them all with rope-yarns. After we had
done this, the boat went ashore with the captain, and returned
with orders to the mate to send a boat ashore for him at sundown.
I did not go in the first boat, and was glad to find that there
was another going before night; for after so long a voyage as ours
had been, a few hours seem a long time to be in sight and out of
reach of land. We spent the day on board in the usual duties; but
as this was the first time we had been without the captain, we
felt a little more freedom, and looked about us to see what sort
of a country we had got into, and were to pass a year or two of
our lives in.
It was a beautiful day, and so warm that we wore straw hats, duck
trousers, and all the summer gear. As this was midwinter, it spoke
well for the climate; and we afterwards found that the thermometer
never fell to the freezing point throughout the winter, and that
there was very little difference between the seasons, except that
during a long period of rainy and southeasterly weather, thick
clothes were not uncomfortable.
The large bay lay about us, nearly smooth, as there was hardly a
breath of wind stirring, though the boat's crew who went ashore
told us that the long groundswell broke into a heavy surf on the
beach. There was only one vessel in the port-- a long, sharp brig
of about three hundred tons, with raking masts, and very square
yards, and English colors at her peak. We afterwards learned that
she was built at Guayaquil, and named the Ayacucho, after the
place where the battle was fought that gave Peru her independence,
and was now owned by a Scotchman named Wilson, who commanded her,
and was engaged in the trade between Callao and other parts of
South America and California. She was a fast sailer, as we
frequently afterwards saw, and had a crew of Sandwich-Islanders on
board. Beside this vessel, there was no object to break the
surface of the bay. Two points ran out as the horns of the
crescent, one of which-- the one to the westward-- was low and
sandy, and is that to which vessels are obliged to give a wide
berth when running out for a southeaster; the other is high, bold,
and well wooded, and has a mission upon it, called Santa
Buenaventura, from which the point is named. In the middle of this
crescent, directly opposite the anchoring ground, lie the Mission
and town of Santa Barbara, on a low plain, but little above the
level of the sea, covered with grass, though entirely without
trees, and surrounded on three sides by an amphitheatre of
mountains, which slant off to the distance of fifteen or twenty
miles. The Mission stands a little back of the town, and is a
large building, or rather collection of buildings, in the centre
of which is a high tower, with a belfry of five bells. The whole,
being plastered, makes quite a show at a distance, and is the mark
by which vessels come to anchor. The town lies a little nearer to
the beach,-- about half a mile from it,-- and is composed of
one-story houses built of sun-baked clay, or adobe, some of them
whitewashed, with red tiles on the roofs. I should judge that
there were about a hundred of them; and in the midst of them
stands the Presidio, or fort, built of the same materials, and
apparently but little stronger. The town is finely situated, with
a bay in front, and an amphitheatre of hills behind. The only
thing which diminishes its beauty is, that the hills have no large
trees upon them, they having been all burnt by a great fire which
swept them off about a dozen years ago, and they had not yet grown
again. The fire was described to me by an inhabitant, as having
been a very terrible and magnificent sight. The air of the whole
valley was so heated that the people were obliged to leave the
town and take up their quarters for several days upon the beach.
Just before sundown, 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, came alongside of us, with a crew
of dusky Sandwich-Islanders, talking and hallooing in their
outlandish tongue. 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 sterns of our boats nearly perpendicular, and again dropping
them 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 the boat touched the beach, they seized
hold of her by the gunwale, on each side, and ran her up high and
dry upon the sand. We saw, at once, how the thing was to be done,
and also the necessity of keeping the boat stern out to the sea;
for the instant the sea should strike upon her broadside or
quarter, she would be driven up broadside 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 gunwales, ready to spring out and seize her when she
struck, the officer using his utmost strength, with his
steering-oar, to keep her stern out. We were shot up upon the
beach, and, seizing the boat, ran her up high and dry, and,
picking up our oars, 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 child's long card house falls when a card is knocked
down at one end. The Sandwich-Islanders, in the mean time, 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 so far into the water 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, in which 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 woollen caps. ``Look
here, Bill, and see what you're coming to!'' said one of our men
to another who stood by the boat. ``Well, Dana,'' said the second
mate to me, ``this does not look much like Harvard College, does
it? But it is what I call `head work.''' To tell the truth, it did
not look very encouraging.
After they had got through with the hides, the Kanakas laid hold
of the bags of tallow (the bags are made of hide, and are about
the size of a common meal-bag), and lifted each upon the shoulders
of two men, one at each end, who walked off with them to the boat,
when all prepared to go aboard. Here, too, was something for us to
learn. The man who steered shipped his oar and stood up in the
stern, and those that pulled the two after oars sat upon their
benches, with their oars shipped, ready to strike out as soon as
she was afloat. The two men remained standing at the bows; and
when, at length, a large sea came in and floated her, seized hold
of the gunwales, and ran out with her till they were up to their
armpits, and then tumbled over the gunwales into the bows,
dripping with water. The men at the oars struck out, but it
wouldn't do; the sea swept back and left them nearly high and dry.
The two fellows jumped out again; and the next time they succeeded
better, and, with the help of a deal of outlandish hallooing and
bawling, got her well off. We watched them till they were out of
the breakers, and saw them steering for their vessel, which was
now hidden in the darkness.
The sand of the beach began to be cold to our bare feet; the frogs
set up their croaking in the marshes, and one solitary owl, from
the end of the distant point, gave out his melancholy note,
mellowed by the distance, and we began to think that it was high
time for ``the old man,'' as a shipmaster is commonly called, to
come down. In a few minutes we heard something coming towards us.
It was a man on horseback. He came on the full gallop, reined up
near us, addressed a few words to us, and, receiving no answer,
wheeled round and galloped off again. He was nearly as dark as an
Indian, with a large Spanish hat, blanket cloak or serape, and
leather leggins, with a long knife stuck in them. ``This is the
seventh city that ever I was in, and no Christian one neither,''
said Bill Brown. ``Stand by!'' said John, ``you haven't seen the
worst of it yet.'' In the midst of this conversation the captain
appeared; and we winded the boat round, shoved her down, and
prepared to go off. The captain, who had been on the coast
before, and ``knew the ropes,'' took the steering-oar, and we went
off in the same way as the other boat. I, being the youngest, had
the pleasure of standing at the bow, and getting wet through. We
went off well, though the seas were high. Some of them lifted us
up, and, sliding from under us, seemed to let us drop through the
air like a flat plank upon the body of the water. In a few minutes
we were in the low, regular swell, and pulled for a light, which,
as we neared it, we found had been run up to our trysail gaff.
Coming aboard, we hoisted up all the boats, and, diving down into
the forecastle, changed our wet clothes, and got our supper. After
supper the sailors lighted their pipes (cigars, those of us who
had them), and we had to tell all we had seen ashore. Then
followed conjectures about the people ashore, the length of the
voyage, carrying hides, &c., &c., until eight bells, when all
hands were called aft, and the ``anchor watch'' set. We were to
stand two in a watch, and, as the nights were pretty long, two
hours were to make a watch. The second mate was to keep the deck
until eight o'clock, all hands were to be called at daybreak, and
the word was passed to keep a bright lookout, and to call the mate
if it should come on to blow from the southeast. We had, also,
orders to strike the bells every half-hour through the night, as
at sea. My watchmate was John, the Swedish sailor, and we stood
from twelve to two, he walking the larboard side and I the
starboard. At daylight all hands were called, and we went through
the usual process of washing down, swabbing, &c., and got
breakfast at eight o'clock. In the course of the forenoon, a boat
went aboard of the Ayacucho and brought off a quarter of beef,
which made us a fresh bite for dinner. This we were glad enough to
have, and the mate told us that we should live upon fresh beef
while we were on the coast, as it was cheaper here than the salt.
While at dinner, the cook called ``Sail ho!'' and, coming on deck,
we saw two sails bearing round the point. One was a large ship
under top-gallant sails, and the other a small hermaphrodite brig.
They both backed their topsails and sent boats aboard of us. The
ship's colors had puzzled us, and we found that she was from
Genoa, with an assorted cargo, and was trading on the coast. She
filled away again, and stood out, being bound up the coast to San
Francisco. The crew of the brig's boat were Sandwich-Islanders,
but one of them, who spoke a little English, told us that she was
the Loriotte, Captain Nye, from Oahu, and was engaged in the hide
and tallow trade. She was a lump of a thing, what the sailors call
a butter-box. This vessel, as well as the Ayacucho, and others
which we afterwards saw engaged in the same trade, have English or
Americans for officers, and two or three before the mast to do the
work upon the rigging, and to be relied upon for seamanship, while
the rest of the crew are Sandwich-Islanders, who are active and
very useful in boating.
The three captains went ashore after dinner, and came off again at
night. When in port, everything is attended to by the chief mate;
the captain, unless he is also supercargo, has little to do, and
is usually ashore much of his time. This we thought would be
pleasanter for us, as the mate was a good-natured man, and not
very strict. So it was for a time, but we were worse off in the
end; for wherever the captain is a severe, energetic man, and the
mate has neither of these qualities, there will always be trouble.
And trouble we had already begun to anticipate. The captain had
several times found fault with the mate, in presence of the crew;
and hints had been dropped that all was not right between them.
When this is the case, and the captain suspects that his chief
officer is too easy and familiar with the crew, he begins to
interfere in all the duties, and to draw the reins more taut, and
the crew have to suffer.