Having recovered our anchor, we made preparations for getting
under way to go down to leeward. We had hoped to go directly to
San Diego, and thus fall in with the California before she sailed
for Boston; but our orders were to stop at an intermediate port
called San Pedro; and, as we were to lie there a week or two, and
the California was to sail in a few days, we lost the opportunity.
Just before sailing, the captain took on board a short,
red-haired, round-shouldered, vulgar-looking fellow, who had lost
one eye and squinted with the other, and, introducing him as Mr.
Russell, told us that he was an officer on board. This was too
bad. We had lost overboard, on the passage, one of the best of our
number, another had been taken from us and appointed clerk, and
thus weakened and reduced, instead of shipping some hands to make
our work easier, he had put another officer over us, to watch and
drive us. We had now four officers, and only six in the
forecastle. This was bringing her too much down by the stern for
our comfort.
Leaving Santa Barbara, we coasted along down, the country
appearing level or moderately uneven, and, for the most part,
sandy and treeless; until, doubling a high sandy point, we let go
our anchor at a distance of three or three and a half miles from
shore.
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