Dana, Richard Henry, 1815-1882; Sailors; Seafaring life; Voyages and travels
We sailed leisurely down the coast before a light, fair wind,
keeping the land well aboard, and saw two other missions, looking
like blocks of white plaster, shining in the distance; one of
which, situated on the top of a high hill, was San Juan
Capistrano, under which vessels sometimes come to anchor, in the
summer season, and take off hides. At sunset on the second day we
had a large and well-wooded headland directly before us, behind
which lay the little harbor of San Diego. We were becalmed off
this point all night, but the next morning, which was Saturday,
the 14th of March, having a good breeze, we stood round the point,
and, hauling our wind, brought the little harbor, which is rather
the outlet of a small river, right before us. Every one was
desirous to get a view of the new place. A chain of high hills,
beginning at the point (which was on our larboard hand coming in),
protected the harbor on the north and west, and ran off into the
interior, as far as the eye could reach. On the other sides the
land was low and green, but without trees. The entrance is so
narrow as to admit but one vessel at a time, the current swift,
and the channel runs so near to a low, stony point that the ship's
sides appeared almost to touch it. There was no town in sight, but
on the smooth sand beach, abreast, and within a cable's length of
which three vessels lay moored, were four large houses, built of
rough boards, and looking like the great barns in which ice is
stored on the borders of the large ponds near Boston, with piles
of hides standing round them, and men in red shirts and large
straw hats walking in and out of the doors. These were the Hide
Houses. Of the vessels: one, a short, clumsy little hermaphrodite
brig, we recognized as our old acquaintance, the Loriotte;
another, with sharp bows and raking masts, newly painted and
tarred, and glittering in the morning sun, with the blood-red
banner and cross of St. George at her peak, was the handsome
Ayacucho. The third was a large ship, with top-gallant-masts
housed and sails unbent, and looking as rusty and worn as two
years' ``hide droghing'' could make her. This was the Lagoda. As
we drew near, carried rapidly along by the current, we overhauled
our chain, and clewed up the topsails. ``Let go the anchor!'' said
the captain; but either there was not chain enough forward of the
windlass, or the anchor went down foul, or we had too much headway
on, for it did not bring us up. ``Pay out chain!'' shouted the
captain; and we gave it to her; but it would not do. Before the
other anchor could be let go, we drifted down, broadside on, and
went smash into the Lagoda. Her crew were at breakfast in the
forecastle, and her cook, seeing us coming, rushed out of his
galley, and called up the officers and men.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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