We had all set our hearts upon getting up to town before night
and going ashore, but the tide beginning to run strong against us, and
the wind, what there was of it, being ahead, we made but little by
weather-bowing the tide, and the pilot gave orders to cock-bill the
anchor and overhaul the chain. Making two long stretches, which
brought us into the roads, under the lee of the castle, he clawed up
the topsails, and let go the anchor; and for the first time since
leaving San Diego,- one hundred and thirty-five days- our anchor was
upon bottom. In half an hour more, we were lying snugly, with all
sails furled, safe in Boston harbor; our long voyage ended; the
well-known scene about us; the dome of the State House fading in the
western sky; the lights of the city starting into sight, as the
darkness came on; and at nine o'clock the clangor of the bells,
ringing their accustomed peals; among which the Boston boys tried to
distinguish the well-known tone of the Old South.
We had just done furling the sails, when a beautiful little
pleasure-boat luffed up into the wind, under our quarter, and the
junior partner of the firm to which our ship belonged, jumped on
board.
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