Among the passengers I noticed an elderly gentleman, thin, with
sandy hair and face that seemed familiar. He took off his glove and
showed one shrivelled hand. It must be he! I went to him and said,
"Captain Wilson, I believe." Yes, that was his name. "I knew you, sir,
when you commanded the Ayacucho on this coast, in old hide-droghing
times, in 1835-6." He was quickened by this, and at once inquiries
were made on each side, and we were in full talk about the Pilgrim and
Alert, Ayacucho and Loriotte, the California and Lagoda. I found he
had been very much flattered by the praise I had bestowed in my book
on his seamanship, especially in bringing the Pilgrim to her berth
in San Diego harbor, after she had drifted successively into the
Lagoda and Loriotte, and was coming into him. I had made a pet of
his brig, the Ayacucho, which pleased him almost as much as my
remembrance of his bride and their wedding, which I saw at Santa
Barbara in 1836. Dona Ramona was now the mother of a large family, and
Wilson assured me that if I would visit him at his rancho, near San
Luis Obispo, I should find her still a handsome woman, and very glad
to see me.
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