This was something of
a damper to us, and the captain looked not a little mortified and
vexed. ``This is the same place where the Rosa got ashore, sir,''
observed our red-headed second mate, most malapropos. A
malediction on the Rosa, and him too, was all the answer he got,
and he slunk off to leeward. In a few minutes the force of the
wind and the rising of the tide backed us into the stream, and we
were on our way to our old anchoring-place, the tide setting
swiftly up, and the ship barely manageable in the light breeze. We
came-to in our old berth opposite the hide-house, whose inmates
were not a little surprised to see us return. We felt as though we
were tied to California; and some of the crew swore that they
never should get clear of the bloody[4] coast.
In about half an hour, which was near high water, the order was
given to man the windlass, and again the anchor was catted; but
there was no song, and not a word was said about the last time.
The California had come back on finding that we had returned, and
was hove-to, waiting for us, off the point. This time we passed
the bar safely, and were soon up with the California, who filled
away, and kept us company.
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