We pulled off
with a will, saying to ourselves (I can speak for myself at
least)- "Good-by, Santa Barbara!- This is the last pull here- No
more duckings in your breakers, and slipping from your cursed
south-easters!" The news was soon known aboard, and put life into
everything when we were getting under weigh. Each one was taking his
last look at the mission, the town, the breakers on the beach, and
swearing that no money would make him ship to see them again; and when
all hands tallied on to the cat-fall, the chorus of "Time for us to
go!" was raised for the first time, and joined in, with full swing, by
everybody. One would have thought we were on our voyage home, so
near did it seem to us, though there were yet three months for us on
the coast.
We left here the young Englishman, George Marsh, of whom I have
before spoken, who was wrecked upon the Pelew Islands. He left us to
take the berth of second mate on board the Ayacucho, which was lying
in port. He was well qualified for this, and his education would
enable him to rise to any situation on board ship. I felt really sorry
to part from him.
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