Tuesday, Feb. 23d. This afternoon, a signal was made from the shore,
and we went off in the gig, and found the agent's clerk, who had
been up to the pueblo, waiting at the landing-place, with a package
under his arm, covered with brown paper, and tied carefully with
twine. No sooner had we shoved off than he told us there was good news
from Santa Barbara. "What's that?" said one of the crew; "has the
bloody agent slipped off the hooks? Has the old bundle of bones got
him at last?"- "No; better than that. The California has arrived."
Letters, papers, news, and, perhaps,- friends, on board! Our hearts
were all up in our mouths, and we pulled away like good fellows; for
the precious packet could not be opened except by the captain. As we
pulled under the stern, the clerk held up the package, and called
out to the mate, who was leaning over the taffrail, that the
California had arrived.
"Hurrah!" said the mate, so as to be heard fore and aft; "California
come, and news from Boston!"
Instantly there was a confusion on board which no one could
account for who has not been in the same situation.
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