- The Open Roadstead Of Santa Barbara; Anchoring Three
Miles From The Shore; Running Out To Sea Before Every South-Easter;
Landing in a high surf; with a little dark-looking town, a mile from
the beach; and not a sound
To be heard, or anything to be seen,
but Sandwich Islanders, hides, and tallow-bags. Add to this
the gale off Point Conception, and no one can be at a loss to
account for our agreeable disappointment in Monterey. Beside all
this, we soon learned, which was of no small importance to us,
that there was little or no surf here, and this afternoon the
beach was as smooth as a duck-pond.
We landed the agent and passengers, and found several persons
waiting for them on the beach, among whom were some, who, though
dressed in the costume of the country, spoke English; and who,
we afterwards learned, were English and Americans who had
married and settled in the country.
I also connected with our arrival here another circumstance which
more nearly concerns myself; viz, my first act of what the sailors
will allow to be seamanship - sending down a royal-yard. I had seen
it done once or twice at sea, and an old sailor, whose favor I
had taken some pains to gain, had taught me carefully everything
which was necessary to be done, and in its proper order, and advised
me to take the first opportunity when we were in port, and try it.
I told the second mate, with whom I had been pretty thick when he
was before the mast, that I would do it, and got him to ask the mate
to send me up the first time they were struck.
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