This night, after sundown, it looked black at the southward and
eastward, and we were told to keep a bright lookout. Expecting to
be called, we turned in early. Waking up about midnight, I found a
man who had just come down from his watch striking a light. He
said that it was beginning to puff from the southeast, that the
sea was rolling in, and he had called the captain; and as he threw
himself down on his chest with all his clothes on, I knew that he
expected to be called. I felt the vessel pitching at her anchor,
and the chain surging and snapping, and lay awake, prepared for an
instant summons. In a few minutes it came,-- three knocks on the
scuttle, and ``All hands ahoy! bear-a-hand[1] up and make sail.'' We
sprang for our clothes, and were about half dressed, when the mate
called out, down the scuttle, ``Tumble up here, men! tumble up!
before she drags her anchor.'' We were on deck in an instant.
``Lay aloft and loose the topsails!'' shouted the captain, as soon
as the first man showed himself. Springing into the rigging, I saw
that the Ayacucho's topsails were loosed, and heard her crew
singing out at the sheets as they were hauling them home. This had
probably started our captain; as ``Old Wilson'' (the captain of
the Ayacucho) had been many years on the coast, and knew the signs
of the weather. We soon had the topsails loosed; and one hand
remaining, as usual, in each top, to overhaul the rigging and
light the sail out, the rest of us came down to man the sheets.
While sheeting home, we saw the Ayacucho standing athwart our
hawse, sharp upon the wind, cutting through the head seas like a
knife, with her raking masts, and her sharp bows running up like
the head of a greyhound. It was a beautiful sight. She was like a
bird which had been frightened and had spread her wings in flight.
After our topsails had been sheeted home, the head yards braced
aback, the fore-topmast staysail hoisted, and the buoys streamed,
and all ready forward for slipping, we went aft and manned the
slip-rope which came through the stern port with a turn round the
timberheads. ``All ready forward?'' asked the captain. ``Aye, aye,
sir; all ready,'' answered the mate. ``Let go!'' ``All gone,
sir''; and the chain cable grated over the windlass and through
the hawse-hole, and the little vessel's head swinging off from the
wind under the force of her backed head sails brought the strain
upon the slip-rope. ``Let go aft!'' Instantly all was gone, and we
were under way. As soon as she was well off from the wind, we
filled away the head yards, braced all up sharp, set the foresail
and trysail, and left our anchorage well astern, giving the point
a good berth. ``Nye's off too,'' said the captain to the mate;
and, looking astern, we could just see the little hermaphrodite
brig under sail, standing after us.
It now began to blow fresh; the rain fell fast, and it grew black;
but the captain would not take in sail until we were well clear of
the point. As soon as we left this on our quarter, and were
standing out to sea, the order was given, and we went aloft,
double-reefed each topsail, furled the foresail, and double-reefed
the trysail, and were soon under easy sail. In these cases of
slipping for southeasters there is nothing to be done, after you
have got clear of the coast, but to lie-to under easy sail, and
wait for the gale to be over, which seldom lasts more than two
days, and is sometimes over in twelve hours; but the wind never
comes back to the southward until there has a good deal of rain
fallen. ``Go below the watch,'' said the mate; but here was a
dispute which watch it should be. The mate soon settled it by
sending his watch below, saying that we should have our turn the
next time we got under way. We remained on deck till the
expiration of the watch, the wind blowing very fresh and the rain
coming down in torrents. When the watch came up, we wore ship, and
stood on the other tack, in towards land. When we came up again,
which was at four in the morning, it was very dark, and there was
not much wind, but it was raining as I thought I had never seen it
rain before. We had on oil-cloth suits and southwester caps, and
had nothing to do but to stand bolt upright and let it pour down
upon us. There are no umbrellas, and no sheds to go under, at sea.
While we were standing about on deck, we saw the little brig
drifting by us, hove to under her fore topsail double reefed; and
she glided by like a phantom. Not a word was spoken, and we saw no
one on deck but the man at the wheel. Toward morning the captain
put his head out of the companion-way and told the second mate,
who commanded our watch, to look out for a change of wind, which
usually followed a calm, with heavy rain. It was well that he did;
for in a few minutes it fell dead calm, the vessel lost her
steerage-way, the rain ceased, we hauled up the trysail and
courses, squared the after-yards, and waited for the change, which
came in a few minutes, with a vengeance, from the northwest, the
opposite point of the compass. Owing to our precautions, we were
not taken aback, but ran before the wind with square yards. The
captain coming on deck, we braced up a little and stood back for
our anchorage. With the change of wind came a change of weather,
and in two hours the wind moderated into the light steady breeze,
which blows down the coast the greater part of the year, and, from
its regularity, might be called a trade-wind. The sun came up
bright, and we set royals, skysails and studding-sails, and were
under fair way for Santa Barbara. The little Loriotte was astern
of us, nearly out of sight; but we saw nothing of the Ayacucho. In
a short time she appeared, standing out from Santa Rosa Island,
under the lee of which she had been hove to all night. Our captain
was eager to get in before her, for it would be a great credit to
us, on the coast, to beat the Ayacucho, which had been called the
best sailer in the North Pacific, in which she had been known as a
trader for six years or more. We had an advantage over her in
light winds, from our royals and skysails which we carried both at
the fore and main, and also from our studding-sails; for Captain
Wilson carried nothing above top-gallant-sails, and always unbent
his studding-sails when on the coast. As the wind was light and
fair, we held our own, for some time, when we were both obliged to
brace up and come upon a taut bowline, after rounding the point;
and here he had us on his own ground, and walked away from us, as
you would haul in a line. He afterwards said that we sailed well
enough with the wind free, but that give him a taut bowline, and
he would beat us, if we had all the canvas of the Royal George.
The Ayacucho got to the anchoring ground about half an hour before
us, and was furling her sails when we came to it. This picking up
your cables is a nice piece of work. It requires some seamanship
to do it, and to come-to at your former moorings, without letting
go another anchor. Captain Wilson was remarkable, among the
sailors on the coast, for his skill in doing this; and our captain
never let go a second anchor during all the time that I was with
him. Coming a little to windward of our buoy, we clewed up the
light sails, backed our main topsail, and lowered a boat, which
pulled off, and made fast a spare hawser to the buoy on the end of
the slip-rope. We brought the other end to the capstan, and hove
in upon it until we came to the slip-rope, which we took to the
windlass, and walked her up to her chain, occasionally helping her
by backing and filling the sails. The chain is then passed through
the hawse-hole and round the windlass, and bitted, the slip-rope
taken round outside and brought into the stern port, and she is
safe in her old berth. After we had got through, the mate told us
that this was a small touch of California, the like of which we
must expect to have through the winter.
After we had furled the sails and got dinner, we saw the Loriotte
nearing, and she had her anchor before night. At sundown we went
ashore again, and found the Loriotte's boat waiting on the beach.
The Sandwich-Islander who could speak English told us that he had
been up to the town; that our agent, Mr. Robinson, and some other
passengers, were going to Monterey with us, and that we were to
sail the same night. In a few minutes Captain Thompson, with two
gentlemen and a lady, came down, and we got ready to go off. They
had a good deal of baggage, which we put into the bows of the
boat, and then two of us took the señora in our arms, and waded
with her through the water, and put her down safely in the stern.
She appeared much amused with the transaction, and her husband was
perfectly satisfied, thinking any arrangement good which saved his
wetting his feet. I pulled the after oar, so that I heard the
conversation, and learned that one of the men, who, as well as I
could see in the darkness, was a young-looking man, in the
European dress, and covered up in a large cloak, was the agent of
the firm to which our vessel belonged; and the other, who was
dressed in the Spanish dress of the country, was a brother of our
captain, who had been many years a trader on the coast, and that
the lady was his wife. She was a delicate, dark-complexioned young
woman, of one of the respectable families of California. I also
found that we were to sail the same night.
As soon as we got on board, the boats were hoisted up, the sails
loosed, the windlass manned, the slip-ropes and gear cast off; and
after about twenty minutes of heaving at the windlass, making
sail, and bracing yards, we were well under way, and going with a
fair wind up the coast to Monterey. The Loriotte got under way at
the same time, and was also bound up to Monterey, but as she took
a different course from us, keeping the land aboard, while we kept
well out to sea, we soon lost sight of her. We had a fair wind,
which is something unusual when going up, as the prevailing wind
is the north, which blows directly down the coast; whence the
northern are called the windward, and the southern the leeward
ports.
[1] ``Bear-a-hand'' is to make haste.