CHAPTER XIV.

CALIFORNIA IN EARLY TIMES.

We had succeeded much better than we had anticipated in making our own

repairs, so that our object in making for the port of Santa Barbara was

more to obtain fresh water and provisions than anything else.

Our passage to this little port was attended by some rough weather, but

on the whole we had not much to complain of throughout our entire

Pacific Ocean experience. We made two prizes on the way. One of them was

a British brig from the Columbia River of tolerable value; the other was

a rich whaler from Acapulco, on her way to the northern whale-fields,

but already half-full of excellent sperm; and we also captured a

schooner, but as she had nothing in her hold but ballast we permitted

her to pursue the even tenor of her way--not thinking her of sufficient

value to warrant our depleting our company by another prize-crew.

We arrived at Santa Barbara in the early part of January--just at the

close of the rainy season, and came to anchor close under the town, for

the harbor is deep.

California in the time of which I treat was far different from now. With

the exception of a few Mexican settlements along and near the coast, it

was nothing but wilderness. There was probably not a house where the

present fine and populous city of San Francisco stands, and very few

settlements in that neighborhood of the coast--the northern part of

which was but little known.

Santa Barbara was nothing but a collection of fifty or sixty adobe

houses, with a larger structure called (I could never understand why)

the Fort, in which the Mexican commandant of the place made his

residence. The coast range of the Rocky Mountains comes down close to

the water here and, back of the town, we could see lofty peaks uplift

themselves grandly (though not so lofty as in the case of Valparaiso),

some of them covered with perpetual snow. But their lower slopes are

fertile and sunny, and the natives had done a good deal in the raising

of vineyards upon them--terracing the steeps to prevent the soil from

washing down by the rains or the melting of the snows above.

Ships very seldom made a port of entry of Santa Barbara in those days,

and the arrival of the Queer Fish was quite an event among the

inhabitants, who treated us with uniform kindness.

As with the other inhabitants of Spanish America, hospitality is a

ruling and virtuous feature of the poor, ignorant Mexicans. Long after

the time I speak of, I traveled much among them, and was ever received

with the open arms of hospitable friendliness by even the most ignorant

and indigent among them.

We got excellent water at this place, as well as plenty of grapes and

other fruit.

As we remained here several weeks, we had many adventures on shore. One

of the most interesting of these occurred shortly after our coming to an

anchorage.

Old Bluefish and myself had obtained permission for a day on shore to

enjoy ourselves hunting, and having each of us procured an excellent

mustang, set off at a brisk pace in the early morning. We were not long

in getting through the mountains--wherein we saw several grizzlies which

were too far off to be attacked--and soon emerged from the defiles upon

the level plains that lie to the westward.

We halted for refreshments at a little town called San Fernandino, if I

remember rightly, and then proceeded on our way, through a colony of

marmots or prairie-dogs, intending or hoping to kill some antelope

farther on.

We had a first-rate day's sport, considering that we were sailors. We

killed three antelope and about a dozen of the large hares, which have

since won the name of jackass-rabbits. The name is not altogether

inappropriate--so far as it applies to the animal's ears, which are of

extraordinary length and size. The animals themselves are of the hare

species. They do not jump as a rabbit, but run as a fox, and with

surprising swiftness withal. They are very large, much larger than the

English hare, and are excellent eating.

It was growing late in the afternoon when we concluded to relinquish our

hunt, and return homeward. So we slung our game across the necks of our

steeds, and proceeded westward, over the faintly-distinguished trail

whereby we had come.

We had not traveled many miles before we witnessed a singular and novel

sight.

Old Bluefish called my attention to a great dust in our advance, which

we soon perceived to be caused by four Mexican hunters in pursuit of a

grizzly bear. We took our stand on a little eminence, and waited to see

the sport.

The bear could run almost as fast as the horses of his pursuers, and on

they all came at a terrific pace, the Mexicans shouting at the top of

their lungs and brandishing their lassoes at a great rate. We now saw

that their intention was to take his bearship alive.

Just as the grizzly came opposite our point of observation, one of the

Californians let his lariat fly, and, catching Bruin by the hind paw

tripped him up, while the rest of the horsemen began to circle round the

beast on their wild steeds, swinging their lariats, and watching for a

chance to noose the monster.

The latter rose up on his hind feet, clutched the line which held him,

and began to draw his entrapper toward him--horse and all. I never saw a

more striking instance of the great muscular strength of the grizzly

than this. He seemed to draw the horse and rider toward him with the

most perfect ease.

We expected to see the Californian draw his knife and cut the line

immediately, thus releasing himself from his unpleasant predicament. But

he did nothing of the kind. He retained his seat with the most perfect

coolness--exhibiting his exquisite horsemanship in so doing; for,

although the horse which he bestrode gave tokens of the utmost fright,

the horseman kept him in perfect subjection to his will, and calmly

allowed the bear to pull him forward inch by inch.

I was almost ready to yell out with excitement when I saw the fearless

horseman dragged up to within a few feet of the ferocious beast. But, at

this instant, whiz went another lariat through the air, and Bruin was

caught around the gullet and choked so taut that he could hardly

breathe. This caused him to release his hold on the line of his first

captor and make at the new assailant. But another noose quickly followed

the second, catching him by one of his forepaws, while his remaining

hind-foot was quickly caught up by the remaining hunter.

Poor Bruin was fairly in the toils, for his prodigious strength could

now avail him nothing.

The horsemen commenced circling around him on their swift and

well-trained steeds, in such a manner as to wind their long, stout

lariats of hide repeatedly round the body and limbs of their prey. When

he was no longer capable of effective exertion, the horsemen dismounted,

and completed their work by a few ingenious knots, so that the bear was

completely powerless.

A light wagon or cart, which had been waiting in the distance, then came

up, and, after a great deal of pulling and hauling and leverage, the

monster was safely loaded.

We now made our appearance, and made friends with the hunters, as well

as imperfect knowledge of their language would admit of. We were

surprised and gratified to learn that the bear had been entrapped for a

show--a bear and bull fight--which was to take place at Santa Barbara in

a few days.

So, as we all had one destination, we started homeward together, and

arrived at the town shortly after dark.

Barney Blake, the Boy Privateer; or, The Cruise of the Queer Fish · 第 14 / 17 章