The wind had hauled ahead during the squall, and we were standing
directly in for the point. So, as soon as we had got all snug, we
wore round and stood off again, and had the pleasant prospect of
beating up to Monterey, a distance of a hundred miles, against a
violent head wind. Before night it began to rain; and we had five
days of rainy, stormy weather, under close sail all the time, and
were blown several hundred miles off the coast. In the midst of
this, we discovered that our fore topmast was sprung (which no
doubt happened in the squall), and were obliged to send down the
fore top-gallant-mast and carry as little sail as possible
forward. Our four passengers were dreadfully sea-sick, so that we
saw little or nothing of them during the five days. On the sixth
day it cleared off, and the sun came out bright, but the wind and
sea were still very high. It was quite like being in mid-ocean
again; no land for hundreds of miles, and the captain taking the
sun every day at noon. Our passengers now made their appearance,
and I had for the first time the opportunity of seeing what a
miserable and forlorn creature a sea-sick passenger is. Since I
had got over my own sickness, the third day from Boston, I had
seen nothing but hale, hearty men, with their sea legs on, and
able to go anywhere (for we had no passengers on our voyage out);
and I will own there was a pleasant feeling of superiority in
being able to walk the deck, and eat, and go aloft, and compare
one's self with two poor, miserable, pale creatures, staggering
and shuffling about decks, or holding on and looking up with giddy
heads, to see us climbing to the mast-heads, or sitting quietly at
work on the ends of the lofty yards.
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