One Night, He Burst Into Our
Room At The Hide-House, Breathless, Pale As A Ghost, Covered With
Mud, And Torn By Thorns And Briers, Nearly Naked, And Begged For
A Crust Of Bread, Saying He Had Neither Eaten Nor Slept For Three
Days.
Here was the great Mr. Russell, who a month before was "Don
Tomàs," "Capitán de la playa," "Maéstro de la casa," etc., etc.,
begging food and shelter of Kanakas and sailors.
He staid with
us till he gave himself up, and was dragged off to the calabozo.
Another, and a more amusing specimen, was one whom we saw at San
Francisco. He had been a lad on board the ship California, in one
of her first voyages, and ran away and commenced Ranchéro, gambling,
stealing horses, etc. He worked along up to San Francisco, and was
living on a rancho near there, while we were in port. One morning,
when we went ashore in the boat, we found him at the landing-place,
dressed in California style, - a wide hat, faded velveteen trowsers,
and a blanket cloak thrown over his shoulders - and wishing to go off
in the boat, saying he was going to paseár with our captain a little.
We had many doubts of the reception he would meet with; but he
seemed to think himself company for any one. We took him aboard,
landed him at the gangway, and went about our work, keeping an eye
upon the quarter-deck, where the captain was walking.
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