Just Before Sun-Down The Mate Ordered A Boat's Crew Ashore, And I
Went As One Of The Number.
We passed under the stern of the English
brig, and had a long pull ashore.
I shall never forget the impression
which our first landing on the beach of California made upon me.
The sun had just gone down; it was getting dusky; the damp night wind
was beginning to blow, and the heavy swell of the Pacific was setting in,
and breaking in loud and high "combers" upon the beach. We lay on our
oars in the swell, just outside of the surf, waiting for a good chance
to run in, when a boat, which had put off from the Ayacucho just after
us, came alongside of us, with a crew of dusky Sandwich Islanders,
talking and halooing in their outlandish tongue. They knew that we
were novices in this kind of boating, and waited to see us go in.
The second mate, however, who steered our boat, determined to have
the advantage of their experience, and would not go in first.
Finding, at length, how matters stood, they gave a shout, and taking
advantage of a great comber which came swelling in, rearing its head,
and lifting up the stern of our boat nearly perpendicular, and again
dropping it in the trough, they gave three or four long and strong pulls,
and went in on top of the great wave, throwing their oars overboard,
and as far from the boat as they could throw them, and jumping out the
instant that the boat touched the beach, and then seizing hold of her
and running her up high and dry upon the sand.
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