Our steward was ashore three
days, making pastry and cake, and some of the best of our stores
were sent off with him. On the day appointed for the wedding, we
took the captain ashore in the gig, and had orders to come for him
at night, with leave to go up to the house and see the fandango.
Returning on board, we found preparations making for a salute. Our
guns were loaded and run out, men appointed to each, cartridges served
out, matches lighted, and all the flags ready to be run up. I took
my place at the starboard after gun, and we all waited for the
signal from on shore. At ten o'clock the bride went up with her sister
to the confessional, dressed in deep black. Nearly an hour intervened,
when the great doors of the mission church opened, the bells rang
out a loud, discordant peal, the private signal for us was run up by
the captain ashore, the bride, dressed in complete white, came out
of the church with the bridegroom, followed by a long procession. Just
as she stepped from the church door, a small white cloud issued from
the bows of our ship, which was full in sight, the loud report
echoed among the surrounding hills and over the bay, and instantly the
ship was dressed in flags and pennants from stem to stern.
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