Yet, With All This,
And The Feeling I Had For My Old Shipmates, Condemned To Another
Term Of California Life, The Thought That We Were Done With It,
And That One Week More Would See Us On Our Way To Boston, Was A
Cure For Everything.
Friday, May 6th, completed the taking of our cargo, and was a
memorable day in our calendar.
The time when we were to take
in our last hide, we had looked forward to, for sixteen months,
as the first bright spot. When the last hide was stowed away,
and the hatches calked down, the tarpaulins battened on to them,
the long-boat hoisted in and secured, and the decks swept down for
the night, - the chief mate sprang upon the top of the long-boat,
called all hands into the waist, and giving us a signal by swinging
his cap over his head, - we gave three long, loud cheers, which came
from the bottom of our hearts, and made the hills and valleys
ring again. In a moment, we heard three, in answer, from the
California's crew, who had seen us taking in our long-boat,
and - "the cry they heard - its meaning knew."
The last week, we had been occupied in taking in a supply of
wood and water for the passage home, and bringing on board the
spare spars, sails, etc. I was sent off with a party of Indians
to fill the water-casks, at a spring, about three miles from the
shipping, and near the town, and was absent three days, living at the
town, and spending the daytime in filling the casks and transporting
them on ox-carts to the landing-place, whence they were taken on
board by the crew with boats.
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