Going down into the forecastle, eating our supper, and lighting
our cigars and pipes, we had, as usual, to tell what we had seen
or heard ashore. We all agreed that it was the worst place we had
seen yet, especially for getting off hides, and our lying off at
so great a distance looked as though it was bad for southeasters.
After a few disputes as to whether we should have to carry our
goods up the hill, or not, we talked of San Diego, the probability
of seeing the Lagoda before she sailed, &c., &c.
The next day we pulled the agent ashore, and he went up to visit
the Pueblo and the neighboring missions; and in a few days, as the
result of his labors, large ox-carts, and droves of mules, loaded
with hides, were seen coming over the flat country. We loaded our
long-boat with goods of all kinds, light and heavy, and pulled
ashore. After landing and rolling them over the stones upon the
beach, we stopped, waiting for the carts to come down the hill and
take them; but the captain soon settled the matter by ordering us
to carry them all up to the top, saying that that was ``California
fashion.'' So, what the oxen would not do, we were obliged to do.
The hill was low, but steep, and the earth, being clayey and wet
with the recent rains, was but bad holding ground for our feet.
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