The captain read the letter, told the Kanaka
there was no answer, and, giving him a glass of brandy, left him
to jump overboard and find the best of his way to the shore. The
Kanaka swam in for the nearest point of land, and in about an hour
made his appearance at the hide-house. He did not seem at all
fatigued, had made three or four dollars, got a glass of brandy,
and was in high spirits. The brig kept on her course, and the
government officers, who had come down to forbid her sailing, went
back, each with something very like a flea in his ear, having
depended upon extorting a little more money from the owner.
It was now nearly three months since the Alert arrived at Santa
Barbara, and we began to expect her daily. About half a mile
behind the hide-house was a high hill, and every afternoon, as
soon as we had done our work, some one of us walked up to see if
there was a sail in sight, coming down before the regular trades.
Day after day we went up the hill, and came back disappointed. I
was anxious for her arrival, for I had been told by letter, that
the owners in Boston, at the request of my friends, had written to
Captain Thompson to take me on board the Alert, in case she
returned to the United States before the Pilgrim; and I, of
course, wished to know whether the order had been received, and
what was the destination of the ship.
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