Here was a change in my life as complete as it had been sudden. In
the twinkling of an eye I was transformed from a sailor into a
``beach-comber'' and a hide-curer; yet the novelty and the
comparative independence of the life were not unpleasant. Our
hide-house was a large building, made of rough boards, and
intended to hold forty thousand hides. In one corner of it a small
room was parted off, in which four berths were made, where we were
to live, with mother earth for our floor. It contained a table, a
small locker for pots, spoons, plates, &c., and a small hole cut
to let in the light. Here we put our chests, threw our bedding
into the berths, and took up our quarters. Over our heads was
another small room, in which Mr. Russell lived, who had charge of
the hide-house, the same man who was for a time an officer of the
Pilgrim. There he lived in solitary grandeur, eating and sleeping
alone (and these were his principal occupations), and communing
with his own dignity. The boy, a Marblehead hopeful, whose name
was Sam, was to act as cook; while I, a giant of a Frenchman named
Nicholas, and four Sandwich-Islanders were to cure the hides. Sam,
Nicholas, and I lived together in the room, and the four
Sandwich-Islanders worked and ate with us, but generally slept at
the oven. My new messmate, Nicholas, was the most immense man that
I had ever seen. He came on the coast in a vessel which was
afterwards wrecked, and now let himself out to the different
houses to cure hides. He was considerably over six feet, and of a
frame so large that he might have been shown for a curiosity. But
the most remarkable thing about him was his feet. They were so
large that he could not find a pair of shoes in California to fit
him, and was obliged to send to Oahu for a pair; and when he got
them, he was compelled to wear them down at the heel. He told me
once that he was wrecked in an American brig on the Goodwin Sands,
and was sent up to London, to the charge of the American consul,
with scant clothing to his back and no shoes to his feet, and was
obliged to go about London streets in his stocking-feet three or
four days, in the month of January, until the consul could have a
pair of shoes made for him. His strength was in proportion to his
size, and his ignorance to his strength,-- ``strong as an ox, and
ignorant as strong.'' He knew how neither to read nor to write. He
had been to sea from a boy, had seen all kinds of service, and
been in all sorts of vessels,-- merchantmen, men-of-war,
privateers, and slavers; and from what I could gather from his
accounts of himself, and from what he once told me, in confidence,
after we had become better acquainted, he had been in even worse
business than slave-trading. He was once tried for his life in
Charleston, South Carolina, and, though acquitted, was so
frightened that he never would show himself in the United States
again. I was not able to persuade him that he could not be tried a
second time for the same offence. He said he had got safe off from
the breakers, and was too good a sailor to risk his timbers again.
Though I knew what his life had been, yet I never had the
slightest fear of him. We always got along very well together,
and, though so much older, stronger, and larger than I, he showed
a marked respect for me, on account of my education, and of what
he had heard of my situation before coming to sea, such as may be
expected from a European of the humble class. ``I'll be good
friends with you,'' he used to say, ``for by and by you'll come
out here captain, and then you'll haze me well!'' By holding
together, we kept the officer in good order, for he was evidently
afraid of Nicholas, and never interfered with us, except when
employed upon the hides. My other companions, the
Sandwich-Islanders, deserve particular notice.
A considerable trade has been carried on for several years between
California and the Sandwich Islands, and most of the vessels are
manned with Islanders, who, as they for the most part sign no
articles, leave whenever they chose, and let themselves out to
cure hides at San Diego, and to supply the places of the men left
ashore from the American vessels while on the coast. In this way a
little colony of them had become settled at San Diego, as their
head-quarters. Some of these had recently gone off in the Ayacucho
and Loriotte, and the Pilgrim had taken Mr. Mannini and three
others, so that there were not more than twenty left. Of these,
four were on pay at the Ayacucho's house, four more working with
us, and the rest were living at the oven in a quiet way; for their
money was nearly gone, and they must make it last until some other
vessel came down to employ them.
During the four months that I lived here, I got well acquainted
with all of them, and took the greatest pains to become familiar
with their language, habits, and characters. Their language I
could only learn orally, for they had not any books among them,
though many of them had been taught to read and write by the
missionaries at home. They spoke a little English, and, by a sort
of compromise, a mixed language was used on the beach, which could
be understood by all. The long name of Sandwich-Islanders is
dropped, and they are called by the whites, all over the Pacific
Ocean, ``Kanakas,'' from a word in their own language,--
signifying, I believe, man, human being,-- which they apply to
themselves, and to all South-Sea-Islanders, in distinction from
whites, whom they call ``Haole.'' This name, ``Kanaka,'' they
answer to, both collectively and individually. Their proper names
in their own language being difficult to pronounce and remember,
they are called by any names which the captains or crews may
choose to give them. Some are called after the vessel they are in;
others by our proper names, as Jack, Tom, Bill; and some have
fancy names, as Ban-yan, Fore-top, Rope-yarn, Pelican, &c., &c. Of
the four who worked at our house, one was named ``Mr. Bingham,''
after the missionary at Oahu; another, Hope, after a vessel that
he had been in; a third, Tom Davis, the name of his first captain;
and the fourth, Pelican, from his fancied resemblance to that
bird. Then there was Lagoda-Jack, California-Bill, &c., &c. But by
whatever names they might be called, they were the most
interesting, intelligent, and kind-hearted people that I ever fell
in with. I felt a positive attachment for almost all of them; and
many of them I have, to this day, a feeling for, which would lead
me to go a great way for the pleasure of seeing them, and which
will always make me feel a strong interest in the mere name of a
Sandwich-Islander.
Tom Davis knew how to read, write, and cipher in common
arithmetic; had been to the United States, and spoke English quite
well. His education was as good as that of three quarters of the
Yankees in California, and his manners and principles a good deal
better; and he was so quick of apprehension that he might have
been taught navigation, and the elements of many of the sciences,
with ease. Old ``Mr. Bingham'' spoke very little English,-- almost
none, and could neither read nor write; but he was the
best-hearted old fellow in the world. He must have been over fifty
years of age. He had two of his front teeth knocked out, which was
done by his parents as a sign of grief at the death of Kamehameha,
the great king of the Sandwich Islands. We used to tell him that
he ate Captain Cook, and lost his teeth in that way. That was the
only thing that ever made him angry. He would always be quite
excited at that, and say: ``Aole!'' (No.) ``Me no eatee Cap'nee
Cook! Me pickaninny-- small-- so high-- no more! My fader see
Cap'nee Cook! Me-- no!'' None of them liked to have anything said
about Captain Cook, for the sailors all believe that he was eaten,
and that they cannot endure to be taunted with. ``New Zealand
Kanaka eatee white man; Sandwich Island Kanaka,-- no. Sandwich
Island Kanaka ua like pu na haole,-- all 'e same a' you!''
Mr. Bingham was a sort of patriarch among them, and was treated
with great respect, though he had not the education and energy
which gave Mr. Mannini his power over them. I have spent hours in
talking with this old fellow about Kamehameha, the Charlemagne of
the Sandwich Islands; his son and successor, Riho Riho, who died
in England, and was brought to Oahu in the frigate Blonde, Captain
Lord Byron, and whose funeral he remembered perfectly; and also
about the customs of his boyhood, and the changes which had been
made by the missionaries. He never would allow that human beings
had been eaten there; and, indeed, it always seemed an insult to
tell so affectionate, intelligent, and civilized a class of men
that such barbarities had been practised in their own country
within the recollection of many of them. Certainly, the history of
no people on the globe can show anything like so rapid an advance
from barbarism. I would have trusted my life and all I had in the
hands of any one of these people; and certainly, had I wished for
a favor or act of sacrifice, I would have gone to them all, in
turn, before I should have applied to one of my own countrymen on
the coast, and should have expected to see it done, before my own
countrymen had got half through counting the cost. Their customs,
and manner of treating one another, show a simple, primitive
generosity which is truly delightful, and which is often a
reproach to our own people. Whatever one has they all have. Money,
food, clothes, they share with one another, even to the last piece
of tobacco to put in their pipes. I once heard old Mr. Bingham
say, with the highest indignation, to a Yankee trader who was
trying to persuade him to keep his money to himself, ``No! we no
all 'e same a' you!-- Suppose one got money, all got money. You,--
suppose one got money-- lock him up in chest.-- No good!''--
``Kanaka all 'e same a' one!'' This principle they carry so far
that none of them will eat anything in sight of others without
offering it all round. I have seen one of them break a biscuit,
which had been given him, into five parts, at a time when I knew
he was on a very short allowance, as there was but little to eat
on the beach.
My favorite among all of them, and one who was liked by both
officers and men, and by whomever he had anything to do with, was
Hope. He was an intelligent, kind-hearted little fellow, and I
never saw him angry, though I knew him for more than a year, and
have seen him imposed upon by white people, and abused by insolent
mates of vessels. He was always civil, and always ready, and never
forgot a benefit. I once took care of him when he was ill, getting
medicines from the ship's chests, when no captain or officer would
do anything for him, and he never forgot it. Every Kanaka has one
particular friend, whom he considers himself bound to do
everything for, and with whom he has a sort of contract,-- an
alliance offensive and defensive,-- and for whom he will often
make the greatest sacrifices. This friend they call aikane; and
for such did Hope adopt me. I do not believe I could have wanted
anything which he had, that he would not have given me. In return
for this, I was his friend among the Americans, and used to teach
him letters and numbers; for he left home before he had learned
how to read. He was very curious respecting Boston (as they called
the United States), asking many questions about the houses, the
people, &c., and always wished to have the pictures in books
explained to him. They were all astonishingly quick in catching at
explanations, and many things which I had thought it utterly
impossible to make them understand they often seized in an
instant, and asked questions which showed that they knew enough to
make them wish to go farther. The pictures of steamboats and
railroad cars, in the columns of some newspapers which I had, gave
me great difficulty to explain. The grading of the road, the
rails, the construction of the carriages, they could easily
understand, but the motion produced by steam was a little too
refined for them. I attempted to show it to them once by an
experiment upon the cook's coppers, but failed,-- probably as much
from my own ignorance as from their want of apprehension, and, I
have no doubt, left them with about as clear an idea of the
principle as I had myself. This difficulty, of course, existed in
the same force with respect to the steamboats; and all I could do
was to give them some account of the results, in the shape of
speed; for, failing in the reason, I had to fall back upon the
fact. In my account of the speed, I was supported by Tom, who had
been to Nantucket, and seen a little steamboat which ran over to
New Bedford. And, by the way, it was strange to hear Tom speak of
America, when the poor fellow had been all the way round Cape Horn
and back, and had seen nothing but Nantucket.
A map of the world, which I once showed them, kept their attention
for hours; those who knew how to read pointing out the places and
referring to me for the distances. I remember being much amused
with a question which Hope asked me. Pointing to the large,
irregular place which is always left blank round the poles, to
denote that it is undiscovered, he looked up and asked, ``Pau?''
(Done? ended?)
The system of naming the streets and numbering the houses they
easily understood, and the utility of it. They had a great desire
to see America, but were afraid of doubling Cape Horn, for they
suffer much in cold weather, and had heard dreadful accounts of
the Cape from those of their number who had been round it.
They smoke a great deal, though not much at a time, using pipes
with large bowls, and very short stems, or no stems at all. These
they light, and, putting them to their mouths, take a long
draught, getting their mouths as full as they can hold of smoke,
and their cheeks distended, and then let it slowly out through
their mouths and nostrils. The pipe is then passed to others, who
draw in the same manner,-- one pipe-full serving for half a dozen.
They never take short, continuous draughts, like Europeans, but
one of these ``Oahu puffs,'' as the sailors call them, serves for
an hour or two, until some one else lights his pipe, and it is
passed round in the same manner. Each Kanaka on the beach had a
pipe, flint, steel, tinder, a hand of tobacco, and a jack-knife,
which he always carried about with him.[1]
That which strikes a stranger most peculiarly is their style of
singing. They run on, in a low, guttural, monotonous sort of
chant, their lips and tongues seeming hardly to move, and the
sounds apparently modulated solely in the throat. There is very
little tune to it, and the words, so far as I could learn, are
extempore. They sing about persons and things which are around
them, and adopt this method when they do not wish to be understood
by any but themselves; and it is very effectual, for with the most
careful attention I never could detect a word that I knew. I have
often heard Mr. Mannini, who was the most noted improvisatore
among them, sing for an hour together, when at work in the midst
of Americans and Englishmen; and, by the occasional shouts and
laughter of the Kanakas, who were at a distance, it was evident
that he was singing about the different men that he was at work
with. They have great powers of ridicule, and are excellent
mimics, many of them discovering and imitating the peculiarities
of our own people before we had observed them ourselves.
These were the people with whom I was to spend a few months, and
who, with the exception of the officer, Nicholas, the Frenchman,
and the boy, made the whole population of the beach. I ought,
perhaps, to except the dogs, for they were an important part of
our settlement. Some of the first vessels brought dogs out with
them, who, for convenience, were left ashore, and there
multiplied, until they came to be a great people. While I was on
the beach, the average number was about forty, and probably an
equal, or greater, number are drowned, or killed in some other
way, every year. They are very useful in guarding the beach, the
Indians being afraid to come down at night; for it was impossible
for any one to get within half a mile of the hide-houses without a
general alarm. The father of the colony, old Sachem, so called
from the ship in which he was brought out, died while I was there,
full of years, and was honorably buried. Hogs and a few chickens
were the rest of the animal tribe, and formed, like the dogs, a
common company, though they were all known, and usually fed at the
houses to which they belonged.
I had been but a few hours on the beach, and the Pilgrim was
hardly out of sight, when the cry of ``Sail ho!'' was raised, and
a small hermaphrodite brig rounded the point, bore up into the
harbor, and came to anchor. It was the Mexican brig Fazio, which
we had left at San Pedro, and which had come down to land her
tallow, try it all over, and make new bags, and then take it in
and leave the coast. They moored ship, erected their try-works on
shore, put up a small tent, in which they all lived, and commenced
operations. This addition gave a change and variety to our
society, and we spent many evenings in their tent, where, amid the
Babel of English, Spanish, French, Indian, and Kanaka, we found
some words that we could understand in common.
The morning after my landing, I began the duties of hide-curing.
In order to understand these, it will be necessary to give the
whole history of a hide, from the time it is taken from a bullock
until it is put on board the vessel to be carried to Boston. When
the hide is taken from the bullock, holes are cut round it, near
the edge, by which it is staked out to dry. In this manner it
dries without shrinking. After the hides are thus dried in the
sun, and doubled with the skin out, they are received by the
vessels at the different ports on the coast, and brought down to
the depot at San Diego. The vessels land them, and leave them in
large piles near the houses. Then begins the hide-curer's duty.
The first thing is to put them in soak. This is done by carrying
them down at low tide, and making them fast, in small piles, by
ropes, and letting the tide come up and cover them. Every day we
put in soak twenty-five for each man, which, with us, made a
hundred and fifty. There they lie forty-eight hours, when they are
taken out, and rolled up, in wheelbarrows, and thrown into the
vats. These vats contain brine, made very strong,-- being
sea-water, with great quantities of salt thrown in. This pickles
the hides, and in this they lie forty-eight hours; the use of the
sea-water, into which they are first put, being merely to soften
and clean them. From these vats they are taken, and lie on a
platform for twenty-four hours, and then are spread upon the
ground, and carefully stretched and staked out, with the skin up,
that they may dry smooth. After they had been staked, and while
yet wet and soft, we used to go upon them with our knives, and
carefully cut off all the bad parts,-- the pieces of meat and fat,
which would corrupt and infect the whole if stowed away in a
vessel for many months, the large flippers, the ears, and all
other parts which would prevent close stowage. This was the most
difficult part of our duty, as it required much skill to take off
everything that ought to come off, and not to cut or injure the
hide. It was also a long process, as six of us had to clean a
hundred and fifty, most of which required a great deal to be done
to them, as the Spaniards are very careless in skinning their
cattle. Then, too, as we cleaned them while they were staked out,
we were obliged to kneel down upon them, which always gives
beginners the back-ache. The first day I was so slow and awkward
that I cleaned only eight; at the end of a few days I doubled my
number; and, in a fortnight or three weeks, could keep up with the
others, and clean my twenty-five.
This cleaning must be got through with before noon, for by that
time the hides get too dry. After the sun has been upon them a few
hours, they are carefully gone over with scrapers, to get off all
the grease which the sun brings out. This being done, the stakes
are pulled up, and the hides carefully doubled, with the hair side
out, and left to dry. About the middle of the afternoon they are
turned over, for the other side to dry, and at sundown piled up
and covered over. The next day they are spread out and opened
again, and at night, if fully dry, are thrown upon a long,
horizontal pole, five at a time, and beaten with flails. This
takes all the dust from them. Then, having been salted, scraped,
cleaned, dried, and beaten, they are stowed away in the house.
Here ends their history, except that they are taken out again when
the vessel is ready to go home, beaten, stowed away on board,
carried to Boston, tanned, made into shoes and other articles for
which leather is used, and many of them, very probably, in the
end, brought back again to California in the shape of shoes, and
worn out in pursuit of other bullocks, or in the curing of other
hides.
By putting a hundred and fifty in soak every day, we had the same
number at each stage of curing on each day; so that we had, every
day, the same work to do upon the same number,-- a hundred and
fifty to put in soak, a hundred and fifty to wash out and put in
the vat, the same number to haul from the vat and put on the
platform to drain, the same number to spread, and stake out, and
clean, and the same number to beat and stow away in the house. I
ought to except Sunday; for, by a prescription which no captain or
agent has yet ventured to break in upon, Sunday has been a day of
leisure on the beach for years. On Saturday night, the hides, in
every stage of progress, are carefully covered up, and not
uncovered until Monday morning. On Sundays we had absolutely no
work to do, unless it might be to kill a bullock, which was sent
down for our use about once a week, and sometimes came on Sunday.
Another advantage of the hide-curing life was, that we had just so
much work to do, and when that was through, the time was our own.
Knowing this, we worked hard, and needed no driving. We ``turned
out'' every morning with the first signs of daylight, and allowing
a short time, at about eight o'clock, for breakfast, generally got
through our labor between one and two o'clock, when we dined, and
had the rest of the time to ourselves, until just before sundown,
when we beat the dry hides and put them in the house, and covered
over all the others. By this means we had about three hours to
ourselves every afternoon, and at sundown we had our supper, and
our work was done for the day. There was no watch to stand, and no
topsails to reef. The evenings we generally spent at one another's
houses, and I often went up and spent an hour or so at the oven,
which was called the ``Kanaka Hotel,'' and the ``Oahu
Coffeehouse.'' Immediately after dinner we usually took a short
siesta, to make up for our early rising, and spent the rest of the
afternoon according to our own fancies. I generally read, wrote,
and made or mended clothes; for necessity, the mother of
invention, had taught me these two latter arts. The Kanakas went
up to the oven, and spent the time in sleeping, talking, and
smoking, and my messmate, Nicholas, who neither knew how to read
nor write, passed away the time by a long siesta, two or three
smokes with his pipe, and a paseo to the other houses. This
leisure time is never interfered with, for the captains know that
the men earn it by working hard and fast, and that, if they
interfered with it, the men could easily make their twenty-five
hides apiece last through the day. We were pretty independent,
too, for the master of the house-- ``capitan de la casa''-- had
nothing to say to us, except when we were at work on the hides;
and although we could not go up to the town without his
permission, this was seldom or never refused.
The great weight of the wet hides, which we were obliged to roll
about in wheelbarrows; the continual stooping upon those which
were pegged out to be cleaned; and the smell of the nasty vats,
into which we were often obliged to wade, knee-deep, to press down
the hides,-- all made the work disagreeable and fatiguing; but we
soon became hardened to it, and the comparative independence of
our life reconciled us to it, for there was nobody to haze us and
find fault; and when we were through for the day, we had only to
wash and change our clothes, and our time was our own. There was,
however, one exception to the time's being our own, which was,
that on two afternoons of every week we were obliged to go off for
wood for the cook to use in the galley. Wood is very scarce in the
vicinity of San Diego, there being no trees of any size for miles.
In the town, the inhabitants burn the small wood which grows in
thickets, and for which they send out Indians, in large numbers,
every few days. Fortunately, the climate is so fine that they have
no need of a fire in their houses, and only use it for cooking.
With us, the getting of wood was a great trouble; for all that in
the vicinity of the houses had been cut down, and we were obliged
to go off a mile or two, and to carry it some distance on our
backs, as we could not get the hand-cart up the hills and over the
uneven places. Two afternoons in the week, generally Monday and
Thursday, as soon as we were through dinner, we started off for
the bush, each of us furnished with a hatchet and a long piece of
rope, and dragging the hand-cart behind us, and followed by the
whole colony of dogs, who were always ready for the bush, and were
half mad whenever they saw our preparations. We went with the
hand-cart as far as we could conveniently drag it, and, leaving it
in an open, conspicuous place, separated ourselves, each taking
his own course, and looking about for some good place to begin
upon. Frequently, we had to go nearly a mile from the hand-cart
before we could find any fit place. Having lighted upon a good
thicket, the next thing was to clear away the underbrush, and have
fair play at the trees. These trees are seldom more than five or
six feet high, and the highest that I ever saw in these
expeditions could not have been more than twelve, so that, with
lopping off the branches and clearing away the underwood, we had a
good deal of cutting to do for a very little wood. Having cut
enough for a ``back-load,'' the next thing was to make it well
fast with the rope, and heaving the bundle upon our backs, and
taking the hatchet in hand, to walk off, up hill and down dale, to
the hand-cart. Two good back-loads apiece filled the hand-cart,
and that was each one's proportion. When each had brought down his
second load, we filled the hand-cart, and took our way again
slowly back to the beach. It was generally sundown when we got
back; and unloading, covering the hides for the night, and,
getting our supper, finished the day's work.
These wooding excursions had always a mixture of something rather
pleasant in them. Roaming about in the woods with hatchet in hand,
like a backwoodsman, followed by a troop of dogs, starting up
birds, snakes, hares, and foxes, and examining the various kinds
of trees, flowers, and birds'-nests, was, at least, a change from
the monotonous drag and pull on shipboard. Frequently, too, we had
some amusement and adventure. The coyotes, of which I have before
spoken,-- a sort of mixture of the fox and wolf breeds,-- fierce
little animals, with bushy tails and large heads, and a quick,
sharp bark, abound here, as in all other parts of California.
These the dogs were very watchful for, and, whenever they saw
them, started off in full run after them. We had many fine chases;
yet, although our dogs ran fast, the rascals generally escaped.
They are a match for the dog,-- one to one,-- but as the dogs
generally went in squads, there was seldom a fair fight. A smaller
dog, belonging to us, once attacked a coyote single, and was
considerably worsted, and might, perhaps, have been killed, had we
not come to his assistance. We had, however, one dog which gave
them a good deal of trouble and many hard runs. He was a fine,
tall fellow, and united strength and agility better than any dog
that I have ever seen. He was born at the Islands, his father
being an English mastiff and his mother a greyhound. He had the
high head, long legs, narrow body, and springing gait of the
latter, and the heavy jaw, thick jowls, and strong fore-quarters
of the mastiff. When he was brought to San Diego, an English
sailor said that he looked, about the face, like the Duke of
Wellington, whom he had once seen at the Tower; and, indeed, there
was something about him which resembled the portraits of the Duke.
From this time he was christened ``Welly,'' and became the
favorite and bully of the beach. He always led the dogs by several
yards in the chase, and had killed two coyotes at different times
in single combats. We often had fine sport with these fellows. A
quick, sharp bark from a coyote, and in an instant every dog was
at the height of his speed. A few minutes made up for an unfair
start, and gave each dog his right place. Welly, at the head,
seemed almost to skim over the bushes, and after him came Fanny,
Feliciana, Childers, and the other fleet ones,-- the spaniels and
terriers; and then, behind, followed the heavy corps,-- bull-dogs,
&c., for we had every breed. Pursuit by us was in vain, and in
about half an hour the dogs would begin to come panting and
straggling back.
Beside the coyotes, the dogs sometimes made prizes of rabbits and
hares, which are plentiful here, and numbers of which we often
shot for our dinners. Among the other animals there was a reptile
I was not so much disposed to find amusement from, the
rattlesnake. These snakes are very abundant here, especially
during the spring of the year. The latter part of the time that I
was on shore, I did not meet with so many, but for the first two
months we seldom went into ``the bush'' without one of our number
starting some of them. I remember perfectly well the first one
that I ever saw. I had left my companions, and was beginning to
clear away a fine clump of trees, when, just in the midst of the
thicket, but a few yards from me, one of these fellows set up his
hiss. It is a sharp, continuous sound, and resembles very much the
letting off of the steam from the small pipe of a steamboat,
except that it is on a smaller scale. I knew, by the sound of an
axe, that one of my companions was near, and called out to him, to
let him know what I had fallen upon. He took it very lightly, and
as he seemed inclined to laugh at me for being afraid, I
determined to keep my place. I knew that so long as I could hear
the rattle I was safe, for these snakes never make a noise when
they are in motion. Accordingly I continued my work, and the noise
which I made with cutting and breaking the trees kept him in
alarm; so that I had the rattle to show me his whereabouts. Once
or twice the noise stopped for a short time, which gave me a
little uneasiness, and, retreating a few steps, I threw something
into the bush, at which he would set his rattle agoing, and,
finding that he had not moved from his first place, I was easy
again. In this way I continued at my work until I had cut a full
load, never suffering him to be quiet for a moment. Having cut my
load, I strapped it together, and got everything ready for
starting. I felt that I could now call the others without the
imputation of being afraid, and went in search of them. In a few
minutes we were all collected, and began an attack upon the bush.
The big Frenchman, who was the one that I had called to at first,
I found as little inclined to approach the snake as I had been.
The dogs, too, seemed afraid of the rattle, and kept up a barking
at a safe distance; but the Kanakas showed no fear, and, getting
long sticks, went into the bush, and, keeping a bright lookout,
stood within a few feet of him. One or two blows struck near him,
and a few stones thrown started him, and we lost his track, and
had the pleasant consciousness that he might be directly under our
feet. By throwing stones and chips in different directions, we
made him spring his rattle again, and began another attack. This
time we drove him into the clear ground, and saw him gliding off,
with head and tail erect, when a stone, well aimed, knocked him
over the bank, down a declivity of fifteen or twenty feet, and
stretched him at his length. Having made sure of him by a few more
stones, we went down, and one of the Kanakas cut off his rattle.
These rattles vary in number, it is said, according to the age of
the snake; though the Indians think they indicate the number of
creatures they have killed. We always preserved them as trophies,
and at the end of the summer had a considerable collection. None
of our people were bitten by them, but one of our dogs died of a
bite, and another was supposed to have been bitten, but recovered.
We had no remedy for the bite, though it was said that the Indians
of the country had, and the Kanakas professed to have an herb
which would cure it, but it was fortunately never brought to the
test.
Hares and rabbits, as I said before, were abundant, and, during
the winter months, the waters are covered with wild ducks and
geese. Crows, too, abounded, and frequently alighted in great
numbers upon our hides, picking at the pieces of dried meat and
fat. Bears and wolves are numerous in the upper parts of the
coast, and in the interior (and, indeed, a man was killed by a
bear within a few miles of San Pedro, while we were there), but
there were none in our immediate neighborhood. The only other
animals were horses. More than a dozen of these were owned by men
on the beach, and were allowed to run loose among the hills, with
a long lasso attached to them, to pick up feed wherever they could
find it. We were sure of seeing them once a day, for there was no
water among the hills, and they were obliged to come down to the
well which had been dug upon the beach. These horses were bought
at from two to six and eight dollars apiece, and were held very
much as common property. We generally kept one fast to one of the
houses, so that we could mount him and catch any of the others.
Some of them were really fine animals, and gave us many good runs
up to the presidio and over the country.
[1] Matches had not come into use then. I think there were none on
board any vessel on the coast. We used the tinder box in our
forecastle.