Aug. 8—The calm continues. Magnificent
weather. The gentlemen have all turned boys.
They play boyish games on the poop and quarter-deck.
For instance: They lay a knife on the fife-rail
of the mainmast—stand off three steps,
shut one eye, walk up and strike at it with the fore-finger;
(seldom hit it;) also they lay a knife on the deck
and walk seven or eight steps with eyes close shut,
and try to find it. They kneel—place
elbows against knees—extend hands in front
along the deck—place knife against end
of fingers—then clasp hands behind back
and bend forward and try to pick up the knife with
their teeth and rise up from knees without rolling
over or losing their balance. They tie a string
to the shrouds —stand with back against
it walk three steps (eyes shut)—turn around
three times and go and put finger on the string; only
a military man can do it. If you want to know
how perfectly ridiculous a grown man looks performing
such absurdities in the presence of ladies, get one
to try it.
Afternoon—The calm is no more. There
are three vessels in sight. It is so sociable
to have them hovering about us on this broad waste
of water. It is sunny and pleasant, but blowing
hard. Every rag about the ship is spread to
the breeze and she is speeding over the sea like a
bird. There is a large brig right astern of
us with all her canvas set and chasing us at her best.
She came up fast while the winds were light, but now
it is hard to tell whether she gains or not.
We can see the people on the forecastle with the
glass. The race is exciting. I am sorry
to know that we shall soon have to quit the vessel
and go ashore if she keeps up this speed.
Friday, Aug. 10—We have breezes and calms
alternately. The brig is two miles to three
astern, and just stays there. We sail directly
east—this brings the brig, with all her
canvas set, almost in the eye of the sun, when it
sets—beautiful. She looks sharply
cut and black as a coal, against a background of fire
and in the midst of a sea of blood.
San Francisco, Aug. 20.—We never saw the
Comet again till the 13th, in the morning, three miles
away. At three o’clock that afternoon,
25 days out from Honolulu, both ships entered the
Golden Gate of San Francisco side by side, and 300
yards apart. There was a gale blowing, and both
vessels clapped on every stitch of canvas and swept
up through the channel and past the fortresses at
a magnificent gait.
I have been up to Sacramento and squared accounts
with the Union. They
paid me a great deal more than they promised me.
Yrs
aff
