We had now been nearly seven weeks in San Diego,
and had taken in the greater part of our
Cargo, and were looking out,
every day, for the arrival of the California, which had our agent
on board; when, this afternoon, some Kanakas, who had been over
the hill for rabbits and to fight rattlesnakes, came running down
the path, singing out, "Kail ho!" with all their might. Mr. H.,
our third mate, was ashore, and asking them particularly about
the size of the sail, etc., and learning that it was "Moku - Nui
Moku," hailed our ship, and said that the California was on the
other side of the point. Instantly, all hands were turned up,
the bow guns run out and loaded, the ensign and broad pennant set,
the yards squared by lifts and braces, and everything got ready to
make a good appearance. The instant she showed her nose round
the point, we began our salute. She came in under top-gallant
sails, clewed up and furled her sails in good order, and came-to,
within good swinging distance of us. It being Sunday, and nothing
to do, all hands were on the forecastle, criticising the new-comer.
She was a good, substantial ship, not quite so long as the Alert,
and wall-sided and kettle-bottomed, after the latest fashion of
south-shore cotton and sugar wagons; strong, too, and tight, and a
good average sailor, but with no pretensions to beauty, and nothing
in the style of a "crack ship." Upon the whole, we were perfectly
satisfied that the Alert might hold up her head with a ship twice
as smart as she.
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