Sailed this day, (Sunday again,) for Santa
Barbara, where we arrived on the 5th. Coming round St. Buenaventura,
and nearing the anchorage, we saw two vessels in port, a large
full-rigged, and a small hermaphrodite brig. The former, the crew said
must be the Pilgrim; but I had been too long in the Pilgrim to be
mistaken in her, and I was right in differing from them; for, upon
nearer approach, her long, low shear, sharp bows, and raking masts,
told quite another story. "Man-of war brig," said some of them;
"Baltimore clipper," said others; the Ayacucho, thought I; and soon
the broad folds of the beautiful banner of St. George,- white field
with blood-red border and cross;- were displayed from her peak. A few
minutes put it beyond a doubt, and we were lying by the side of the
Ayacucho, which had sailed from San Diego about nine months before,
while we were lying there in the Pilgrim. She had since been to
Valparaiso, Callao, and the Sandwich Islands, and had just come upon
the coast. Her boat came on board, bringing Captain Wilson; and in
half an hour the news was all over the ship that there was a war
between the United States and France.
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