Great rascalities were frequently practised at this time by those engaged in conveying passengers, in sailing vessels, from Panama to San Francisco. There were such numbers of men waiting anxiously in Panama to take the first opportunity that offered of reaching California, that there was no difficulty in filling any old tub of a ship with passengers; and, when once men arrived in San Francisco, they were generally too much occupied in making dollars, to give any trouble on account of the treatment they had received on the voyage. Many vessels were consequently despatched with a load of passengers, most shamefully ill supplied with provisions, even what they had being of the most inferior quality; and it often happened that they had to touch in distress at the intermediate ports for the ordinary necessaries of life. We very soon found that our ship was no exception. For the first few days we fared pretty well, but, by degrees, one article after another became used up; and by the time we had been out a fortnight, we had absolutely nothing to eat and drink, but salt pork, musty flour, and bad coffee--no mustard, vinegar, sugar, pepper, or anything of the sort, to render such food at all palatable. It may be imagined how delightful it was, in recovering from fever, when one naturally has a craving for something good to eat, to have no greater delicacy in the way of nourishment than gruel made of musty flour, _au naturel_. There was great indignation among the passengers. A lot of California emigrants are not a crowd to be trifled with, and the idea of pitching the supercargo overboard was quite seriously entertained; but, fortunately for himself, he was a very plausible man, and succeeded in talking them into the belief that he was not to blame. We would have gone into some port for supplies but, of such grub as we had, there was no scarcity on board, and we preferred making the most of it to incurring delay by going in on the coast, where calms and light winds are so prevalent. We killed a porpoise occasionally, and ate him. The liver is the best part, and the only part generally eaten, being something like pig’s liver, and by no means bad. I had frequently tasted the meat at sea before; it is exceedingly hard, tough, and stringy, like the very worst beefsteak that can possibly be imagined; and I used to think it barely eatable, when thoroughly disguised in sauce and spices, but now, after being so long under a severe salt-pork treatment, I thought porpoise steak a very delicious dish, even without any condiment to heighten its intrinsic excellence.