Dana, Richard Henry, 1815-1882; Sailors; Seafaring life; Voyages and travels
I looked anxiously for a boat, during the latter part of the afternoon,
but none came; until toward sundown, when I saw a speck on the water,
and as it drew near, I found it was the gig, with the captain. The
hides, then, were not to go off. The captain came up the hill, with a
man, bringing my monkey jacket and a blanket. He looked pretty black,
but inquired whether I had enough to eat; told me to make a house out
of the hides, and keep myself warm, as I should have to sleep there
among them, and to keep good watch over them. I got a moment to speak
to the man who brought my jacket.
"How do things go aboard?" said I.
"Bad enough," said he; "hard work and not a kind word spoken."
"What," said I, "have you been at work all day?"
"Yes! no more Sunday for us. Everything has been moved in the hold,
from stem to stern, and from the waterways to the keelson."
I went up to the house to supper. We had frijoles, (the perpetual food
of the Californians, but which, when well cooked, are the best bean in
the world,) coffee made of burnt wheat, and hard bread. After our meal,
the three men sat down by the light of a tallow candle, with a pack of
greasy Spanish cards, to the favorite game of "treinta uno," a sort of
Spanish "everlasting." I left them and went out to take up my bivouack
among the hides. It was now dark; the vessel was hidden from sight,
and except the three men in the house, there was not a living soul
within a league. The coati (a wild animal of a nature and appearance
between that of the fox and the wolf) set up their sharp, quick bark,
and two owls, at the end of two distant points running out into the
bay, on different sides of the hills where I lay, kept up their
alternate, dismal notes. I had heard the sound before at night, but did
not know what it was, until one of the men, who came down to look at my
quarters, told me it was the owl. Mellowed by the distance, and heard
alone, at night, I thought it was the most melancholy, boding sound I
had ever heard. Through nearly all the night they kept it up,
answering one another slowly, at regular intervals. This was relieved
by the noisy coati, some of which came quite near to my quarters, and
were not very pleasant neighbors. The next morning, before sunrise,
the long-boat came ashore, and the hides were taken off.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account