Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Eleven.Adventures in Mexico.“I am so glad you are saved, Jerry,” said I. These were the first words I spoke after we had got hold of the life-buoy.“But are we saved?” he exclaimed. “Will the ship be able to come back? and if she does, will they see us, do you think?”“They’ll not desert us—of that we may be certain,” I replied; and I thought how heart-broken Captain Frankland would be when he found that his son had fallen overboard and was in all probability lost. Strange to say, I did not think at all of my own perilous position. I had gone to save Jerry, and it seemed a matter of course that I must save him. It must be remembered that our heads were very little above the level of the water, and that although the sea had gone down considerably, we were surrounded by masses of foam—now sinking into the trough, now rising to the top of a wave. Our view, therefore, was very limited. We were looking out eagerly for the ship through the thickening gloom. Happily, when the life-buoy was let go, the trigger was pulled. This set off a sort of blue light, which burned at the top, and which water could not extinguish. We felt sure, therefore, that as long as that light continued burning we should be seen by those on board. Our great dread was that the light would go out before the ship could get back to us. We strained oureyes in the direction of the ship. The thickening gloom and mist were rapidly encircling her, and shrouding her from our sight.“O Harry, Harry, she’s going away, and they won’t know where to look for us!” cried Jerry. “Poor father, what will he do? and my carelessness has brought you into this trouble, and poor Surley too. I wish you hadn’t jumped overboard for me.”“I’m very glad I did, for I don’t think that you would have been alive now if I had not,” I answered; “and don’t have any regrets about me—I only did my duty, and I am sure that you would have done the same for me. But I say, do you remember what Mr Brand talked about when we were holding on by the bottom of the boat among the Falklands?”“Yes, I do; something about our being summoned before many moments to stand before the Judge of all the world,” answered Jerry. “I’ve been thinking of that just now.”“So have I,” said I. “Well, it strikes me that if we thought about it oftener we should be better prepared for the time when it does come. Come it will, I know,—‘as a thief in the night,’ the Bible says. I’ll try and think more on the subject, so that when the moment does come I may be ready.”Many people make resolutions as we did: how few keep them! It is extraordinary that we should have been able to talk so much in the position in which we were placed. As I was saying, we strained our eyes gazing after the ship.“Jerry,” I exclaimed suddenly, “she has hove about—I am certain of it! See, see! she is coming nearer!”Breathlessly we watched. Even though the gloom was thickening, we could discern that her bow was turned towards us. We shouted in our eagerness—not to show where we were: there was no use in that, nor could we have made ourselves heard; the light also from the life-buoy was still burning brightly. On came the ship towards us. There was no doubt about the matter.“There’s down with the helm!” cried Jerry. “They are going to heave to—hurrah! hurrah!”In another minute the ship lay hove-to a short distance to windward of us. She looked like some huge dark spirit rising out of the ocean. We knew that they must be lowering a boat, though we could not see it. Then we shouted, to show that we were all right and in good heart. A shout from the boat’s crew was given in return, and a light was held up to show us that help was coming. Over the waves it came dancing towards us. In a few minutes more the boat was up to us, with Mr Brand at the helm. Whenever any very important work was to be performed, I observed the captain liked to intrust it to Cousin Silas.“Take old Surley off first!” exclaimed Jerry. Manuel Silva, who had, it appeared, insisted on coming, was about to help him in. “He has had hard work to hold on, poor fellow.” So Surley was taken into the boat, and then I, for Jerry would not get in till the last; and then the life-buoy was lifted in, and in a very short time we were all safe on deck, and the ship once more steering towards the American coast.We were earned below—that is to say, Jerry and I. The men took care of Surley. We were put into our berths, and the doctor came to us, and we were rubbed, and had some hot brandy and water; and then I, at all events, felt all to rights. Jerry had been hurt by his fall, and it took him much longer to recover. The captain went and sat by him; and Jerry told me that he heard him offering up his thanks to our merciful God for having restored his son to him. He then came and talked to me, and told me how sorry he should have been had I been lost, and how grateful he felt to me for having been the means of saving his son’s life. I do not know exactly what I said. I remember I told him what I was sure of,—that Jerry would have done exactly the same for me. There was this difference, that I could swim very well, and that Jerry could swim very little, so that I deserved less thanks than he should have done had he jumped in for me, considering that he would have run far greater risk for my sake than I had done for his. The captain smiled when I said this, but made no remark. He had always been kind to me,—he was now kinder than ever; but this did not prevent him from taking every means to make me a sailor, and to keep me to my duty, while at the same time he afforded me every opportunity of seeing as much as possible of the world through which we were passing.Silva, as I before have said, by his quiet manners, readiness to lend a hand when any work was going forward, and anxiety to be on good terms with all, had completely won the good-will of everybody on board. He was evidently a man of some attainments, and was more likely to have been an officer than a man before the mast. With Jerry and me he was apparently very frank. He told us how when a young lad he had been turned adrift into the world to seek his fortune, without parents or any one to care for him; and how he had battled on, picking up information where he could, reading what books he could lay hands on, and laying in a store of knowledge for future use.“I have served on board vessels of every description. I’ve been on board slavers, and merchant vessels, and men-of-war of several nations. I’ve served with Lord Cochrane both in the Pacific and Atlantic; and for a long time I was in an opium clipper in the China Seas; but, as you know, lads, a rolling stone gathers no moss, and here I am, as poor as I was when I first began life. However, there are plenty of ways by which a man may make his fortune if he chooses, and I must find one of them some of these days.”He spoke in a desperate, careless tone, as if he in reality cared very little what became of him, or what he did. We had begun to feel a strong liking for the man, and were now inclined to pity him sincerely.I will not describe another gale which came on, and drove us away to the southward and westward for several days, the wind shifting about so much that we scarcely knew where we had got to. At length, when it had moderated, so that an observation could be taken, we found that we were on the coast of Mexico, not far from the harbour of Mazatlan, near the entrance of the Gulf of California. The ship had been so battered about during the gale, that the captain was glad of an opportunity of running into harbour to repair damages, before proceeding to San Francisco, where he could not expect to find workmen, and where, if he remained long, his own crew might be tempted to desert. As we stood in for the shore, a few barren rocks or small islands appeared in sight, and running through, we found ourselves before a pretty little town, part of it standing on the foot of a steep promontory, and partly on a sandy bank which encircles a wide lagoon. This was Mazatlan. It is inhabited by Mexican Spaniards. The first mate, Mr Renshaw, had not been on shore during the voyage, so the captain insisted on his going with the doctor and Jerry and me. We first went to an inn—ameson, as it was called. It consisted of a quadrangular building, with a court-yard in the centre, and a corridor running round it. All the rooms opened into this corridor, and had no communication with each other. The corridor was the general lounging-place; and at night many of the guests who preferred air to privacy, slung their hammocks in it. Round the walls, or on the pillars, they also hung up their saddles and other riding gear. As to furniture, there is something like a bedstead, a wooden elevation which keeps the sleeper from the floor; but chairs and tables are luxuries seldom met with, while washhand-stands are things unheard of—washing being but little in vogue among the travelling population. We were fortunate in falling in with two Englishmen—that is to say, one, Captain Driscoll, was an Irishman, who had been in the Mexican service; and the other, Dr Dwyer, was a merchant. They knew the country well, and were travelling towards Durango, the largest town in the neighbourhood. They had with them two young men, sons ofrancheroes, as the Mexican cattle-farmers are called. They both lived some way up the country, and as they also were bound to Durango, and had speedily to return, it was arranged that we should all travel together. With the addition of our new friends’ two servants, we thus together mustered ten persons. We were all of us well-armed, and not without necessity: our friends told us that the country had lately been infested by large bands of Comanche Indians, who had been driven away from the borders of the United States, and had discovered that they were able to carry on their depredations among the Mexicans almost with impunity. “They are not likely to attack a well-armed party, and if they do, we can give a good account of them.” This account only the more excited our interest, and we quite hoped that the Indians would attack us. When we first went to the inn, we saw a large party on horseback just setting out, we understood, in the same direction. They were all armed to the teeth,—with pistols in their belts, some with swords by their sides, and others with lances or rifles. They made a gay appearance on their richly caparisoned steeds, with their broad-brimmed hats and feathers, bright-coloured sashes, trousers open at the knees, with silver buttons and loose jackets, with yellow boots and large silver spurs. They were laughing loudly and talking; and as they flourished their spears and rifles, they boasted how they would treat any Indians who might dare to attack them. The doctor said he thought that it was a pity we had not been ready to accompany them.“Let them go alone,” answered our friend; “I know those boasting gentlemen too well to trust them. If attacked, they would leave all the fighting to us. We shall be better off by ourselves.” Our friends provided horses and all necessaries for the journey, and in high spirits we started, mounted on high Spanish saddles, from which it seemed impossible that we couldever tumble off. I will not attempt to describe the scenery in detail. It was hilly, and woody, and rocky, with valleys and waterfalls; now and then we came to a plain with a wide extent of open country, and then had to cross rocky ridges, and climb lofty heights among crags and pine-trees; but nothing came amiss to us or our horses. The young farmers had pressed us to stop a day at their father’s house, which was only a little out of the way. It was built in the fashion of the inn I have described, surrounded by the farm-buildings and pens for cattle. The father was a fine, hearty old man, dressed in the ancient Spanish costume; and their mother and sisters were kind, fresh-looking people, very unlike the parchment-skinned, withered crones we had seen in the town. They gave us for suppertortillas, which are thin cakes made of corn, and eggs, and fried beans, and some other things, to which we did justice. The next morning our friends asked us if we would like to see a hunt.“Of what?” we asked.“Of a bear,” was the answer. “One has been seen in the neighbourhood, and his destruction is resolved on.”“Oh, by all means!” we exclaimed, wondering in what way the bear was to be hunted. “Let us go.”After an early breakfast, we set out on horseback, accompanied by several men on foot carrying long poles. Each of the young rancheroes had a long coil of rope round his saddle-bow, to which one end was fastened—at the other was a running loop. This I found was a lasso—a weapon (for so it may be called) in their hands of very formidable character. The appearance the young rancheroes presented on horseback was very picturesque. Their saddle-cloths and saddles were richly worked, and the head-gear of their horses was adorned with gay tassels. Round their own heads, and necks, and waists, they wore bright-coloured handkerchiefs. Their jackets and trousers were made very loose, and adorned with a profusion of silver buttons; while on their heels they wore huge silver spurs, with rowels as large as the palm of a man’s hand. Two other rancheroes joined us. They had seen the hear, and found out his haunts. We reached a wild, rugged country, with a few trees in the valleys, and numerous large rocks jutting out in the sides of the hills.“The rancheroes say that the bear’s cave is not far off from here,” observed one of our English friends. “We must be prepared for him. Keep by us and do as we do.” Scarcely had he spoken when a loud growl or snort was heard, and not a hundred yards from us a huge, grisly, brown monster rushed out from behind a rook, showing his teeth, and standing upon his hind-legs as if ready to fight. I had never seen a more ferocious-looking monster. While we were looking at him he went down on his fore-paws, and with a loud growl made a rush at us.“Put spurs to your horses, and gallop down the valley, or he will be upon us!” exclaimed our friends. We were not slow to follow this advice. I looked round—the bear was following us. Fast as we went, unwieldy as the monster looked, he came as rapidly after us. I could not help thinking if one of our horses fell, what would become of the rider. It was not unlikely either that one of us, especially the first mate, who was not accustomed to ride, might tumble off. If so, the bear would certainly kill him. On we went as fast as our horses’ legs could carry us. The bear was, notwithstanding this, gaining on us. I kept alongside Jerry, so did the mate. Their horses could not go faster. I wondered what had become of the rancheroes; I did not see them. Another terrific growl was heard, and looking over my shoulder, I saw that the bear had gained still more on us. He was not eighty paces from us. Just then I saw Jerry pulling at his horse’s bridle. He hauled away lustily, but it was too late. Down went the poor animal over a big stone, and away flew Jerry over his head. I shrieked with terror. How could I help him? I turned round, hoping to divert the bear’s attention, but the monster took no notice of me, and made straight at Jerry. At that moment, when I thought that it was all up with him, I heard a loudswitch, as if something were passing rapidly through the air, and two of the rancheroes darted out from behind a cliff, having thrown their lassoes over the bear’s head and shoulders. Away they galloped in an opposite direction to which he was going, till their ropes were at their fullest tension, and then their horses drew up, planting their feet firmly on the ground and dragging against the astonished animal. Instead of seizing the prey he expected, he found himself drawn up with a halter round his neck, and heating the air in a vain endeavour to escape. When he found that he could make no head against the two rancheroes, who were endeavouring to stop him, he turned round in a fit of fury and endeavoured to overtake them. Keeping their lassoes at full stretch, away they went before him; and if he stopped a moment to try to get rid of the nooses, they gave him a jerk which made him move on again. Jerry was, happily, not hurt by his fall, and having caught his horse, the mate, and I helped him quickly to mount and to overtake the rest of the party who were following the hunters. After galloping along the valley for a quarter of a mile or so, the two other rancheroes darted out from behind a rock, and whirling their lassoes round their heads, cast them with unerring aim over the shoulders of the bear, and then galloped away from him. The monster had now four lassoes round him. Mighty as was his strength, and fierce as were his struggles, he was in an instant brought to the ground. He bit, and struggled, and snarled, or rather growled in vain; tighter and tighter grew each noose till he was hauled over on his back. Some of the men on foot, who had been hidden in the neighbourhood, rushed forward, and threw their lassoes over his legs. He was now utterly helpless. Then the men came with their long poles, with which they formed a sort of litter, and off they carried poor Bruin in triumph. It was certainly much pleasanter examining him now he was made fast than when he was at liberty. We were told that his strength is so great that he can, without difficulty, overcome the huge bison whom he meets with in the plains. The doctor called him theUrsus ferox. His claws were long and strong, his canine teeth of great size, and his eyes deeply sunk in his head. We followed the huge prisoner in triumph till we came to a road, when he was put on a cart and rumbled off to the farm. Thence he was forwarded to Mazatlan, and very likely shipped off to some distant part of the world.On our way back to the rancho, we encountered a herd of wild cattle, one of which the young rancheroes wished to capture. Off they set in pursuit of a fine bull they had singled out from the herd. One of them rode up on the right side of the animal about twenty feet off, the other kept a little behind at about the same distance on the left side. Away flew the noose of the right-hand man over the head of the beast; at the same moment the ranchero behind cast his by a peculiar knack over the left hind-foot, as the animal lifted it in running. The sudden jerk brought him to the ground, and the other ends of the lassoes being fastened to the saddles, the horses stood perfectly still, dragging away with all their might in opposite directions. Their masters quietly dismounted, and leaving their horses thus keeping the bull secure, they leisurely approached him. They then secured his feet in such a way that he could only just walk, and bent his head down to his legs, so that he could not butt, and making him get up, led him away a prisoner. Several were treated in the same way. We wonderfully enjoyed our day’s excursion.The next morning by daybreak we set off to continue our journey. It was very pleasant travelling. Sometimes Jerry and I rode together, sometimes with the doctor or Mr Renshaw, and at others with our two English friends, from whom we gained a good deal of information. From all I heard, I should not at all like to live in Mexico. The descendants of the fierce conquerors have become a most degenerate race, without religion, without morality—each man ready to destroy his neighbour for the sake of getting into his place. That object seems to be the only end and aim of all their politics. As to patriotism, it does not exist. The nearest approach to the sentiment is made by those who wish for a settled government, that they may enjoy their property in peace and quiet. The consequences of the constant change of government are, that brigands abound, that the confines of the country are left open to the depredations of the Red Indians, and that the army of the state is left in a dreadfully disorganised condition—ill paid, ill fed, ill clothed, and utterly unable to cope with the evils which beset them. We stopped for a few hours at a ruined house to take our mid-day meal, and then continued our journey. Soon after this we came to some blackened walls which showed where a village once stood. We learned from the rancheroes that only a few weeks before there existed on the spot a pretty hamlet, with a contented and happy population of some fifty persons or so. One morning, just as they were setting forth to their work, the dreaded war whoop of the Indians was heard. Two or three hundred Red Indian warriors, armed with spears, rifles, and round shields, were seen galloping towards the devoted village. Some of the people fled. All tried to flee, for so completely unprepared were they that there was no time to make any defence. The women and children, as they were overtaken, were indiscriminately slaughtered. The plunder that was considered worth carrying off was collected, and then in wantonness the village was set on fire. A few of the fugitives had at length reached Durango with the tale of their misfortunes. Some troops had been sent out with orders to exterminate the savages, but they took very good care not to come near them, while the Indians indeed were probably making a foray some two or three hundred miles away. At night we reached a rancho, the owner of which was known to our friends. He received us hospitably, slung hammocks for us in one of the corridors of the house, and gave us the usual tortillas, and eggs, and beans for a feast, in addition to some very fine beef. The evening of the next day was approaching, when, as we were descending a hill, we saw in the plain below us a number of horsemen galloping about. We were too far off to make out what they were. The rancheroes gazed earnestly at them. Mr Renshaw had a good glass with him.“Why, there are red fellows on horseback, with spears and shields, but without a rag on them,” he exclaimed. “They seem to be fighting with another set of fellows dressed as Spaniards, and, hang it, the latter are turning heels and flying.” The rancheroes seemed very much excited all the time, and rode a little way down the hill, that they might better see what was going on. They quickly turned round and beckoned to us to join them. We did so, and soon saw that if we would save the lives of the Mexicans, there was not a moment to be lost. Although there were thirty of them, there were fully four times as many Indians. It was not difficult to divine what had occurred. The Mexicans had been taken by surprise, and instead of pulling up and keeping close together, each man had galloped off in the hope of saving his own life, without thinking of his companions. The Indians had thus got in among them, and had already pierced several through with their long spears. Each Indian warrior, however, as soon as he had killed or disabled a man, stopped to take his scalp, and this gave time to some of the Mexicans once more to unite and to present a better front to the enemy. The resistance they were making, however, was very feeble, and as we galloped on we saw that they had once more begun to break. The Indians had been so intent on the attack that they had not perceived our approach, neither had the Mexicans.“Now, my friends,” exclaimed our friend Captain Driscoll, who seemed as if by right to take the command, “keep together, shoulder to shoulder, and dash boldly in among those red villains. Cut them down, and pistol them as best you can, shouting at the top of your voices. I know them of old; they won’t stand that. When they hear English voices they’ll run; they know what they are to get. Wait till I give the word, though.”It was very exciting. Down the steep hill we dashed at full speed, our horses seeming clearly to understand what we were about. Already several more Mexicans had, through their cowardice, lost their lives. We were within two hundred yards of the scene of strife. “Now’s the time!” shouted our leader. “Hurrah, hurrah! my lads! Give way, you red scoundrels!” we all shouted at the top of our voices. The Indians, hearing our cries, turned their heads, and seeing a large body of horsemen coming down the road, and not knowing how many there might be following, thought that it was high time for them to be off. Our appearance, also, gave the Mexicans courage, and they charged more manfully than they had done before.“Wallop ahoo aboo, Erin gobragh!” sung out our leader, Captain Driscoll. “Fly, ye red scoundrels; fly, or we will cut you into mince-meat!” Whether the Indians understood what he said I do not know, but as he suited the action to the word, wielding a pretty heavy Toledo, they took his advice, and, disengaging themselves from the melée, urged their horses to a rapid flight. We, however, were too close to them to allow them to escape altogether with impunity, and three of them were knocked off the backs of their steeds, two of whom were mortally wounded. A third, I thought, was lead. He lay on the ground without moving, or apparently breathing, his tomahawk still held in his death-grasp. The cowardly Mexicans very soon put the other two poor wretches out of their pain, by running them through and through with their lances. Two or three of the heroes were in the act of charging the dead man, with the intention of running him through, when up he sprung to his feet, and away he went as quick almost, it seemed, as a flash of lightning after his comrades! Several of our party gave chase after him, but though he was on foot it appeared as if he would distance us. His leg, however, had been wounded, and he had miscalculated his strength. His pace slackened. Once or twice he stumbled; he felt that he could run no more. He was a brave fellow, and was determined to die like a man, with his face to his enemies. Flourishing his tomahawk above his head, he uttered his war cry, and rushed desperately towards us. A Mexican’s lance struck him on the shoulder, and brought him to the ground. The other Mexicans were about to despatch him, but Captain Driscoll sung out in Spanish, “Spare his life; spare his life; we do not kill fallen enemies;” and Jerry and I, impelled by the same feelings, threw ourselves before him, and by signs showed that we had resolved to protect him. The Indian seemed to comprehend what we were about, though perhaps he thought we wanted to preserve his life only to torture him, for he did not show that he was in any way obliged to us. The moment the lance was withdrawn, he sprung up with his weapon in his hand, ready to fight on; but one of the rancheroes threw his lasso over his shoulders, and, with a jerk which, had it been round his neck, would have dislocated it, brought him again to the ground.“We will bring him along with us,” said Captain Driscoll; “the poor wretch has shown great courage, and deserves to live. Perhaps we may learn from him something about his tribe.”The captive Indian was dragged along; and, finding that at present he had no chance of escape, he came on quietly. No less than eight of the Mexicans had lost their lives, so sudden had been the attack of the red men, and most of the bodies had been deprived of their scalps. As it was impossible to carry the corpses with us, and we had not time to bury them, they were left to afford a banquet to the birds of the air and the beasts of the forest—a common occurrence in this country. Some of those who had run away now came back, and by degrees the whole party was once more collected together. It was already late in the afternoon, and we were anxious to find some place where we could rest for the night. There was a village, we heard, at no great distance, and by riding pretty hard we might reach it by nightfall. After what had occurred, this we were all well disposed to do, for we could not tell at what moment the Comanches, when they found that our numbers were smaller than they had supposed, might come back and attack us. It was amusing to hear the vapouring and boasting of the Mexicans, as our friends, with their own comments, translated it to us. The greatest boasters were the greatest cowards. Not one but could offer an excellent reason for having run away. Several were going to procure help; others to get behind the Indians, to attack them in the rear; others were heroically making a diversion, to draw off their attention from their friends. It was nearly dark when we reached the village, but not a sign of living beings was there—no dog barked, no child’s cheerful voice was heard, not a cock crew. Alas! there were blackened roofs and walls, and charred door-posts. The Indians had been there; all the inhabitants must have been slain or had fled. We rode through the hamlet; not a human being was to be found. One house—the largest in the place—had escaped entire destruction. It had two stories; a ladder led to the upper one. It would afford us shelter during the night, which gave signs of being a tempestuous one. Behind the house were some sheds, where our horses might be tethered. The first thing to be done was to obtain food for them. It was more important that they should be fed than that we should; so a party was sent out to cut grass, and soon returned with a sufficiency. Most of the people had brought provisions, as we likewise had done, and thus in that respect we were very well off. Captain Driscoll, by tacit consent, was chosen to make the arrangements for our security during the night. In the lower room was a large hearth, on which a blazing fire was made, and by the light of it we ate our somewhat frugal supper. We then all climbed up into the loft, and the Mexicans, with theirscrapes, and saddles, and saddle-cloths, soon made themselves comfortable beds, and we imitated their example. The Indian prisoner had been made to come up, and then they bound his arms and legs, and he sat in one corner with a man to watch him. I had been asleep some time, when I felt Jerry pulling at my arm. I looked up. The light of the moon was streaming in through a gap in the roof, for the storm which had threatened had passed off. Jerry put his finger to his lips to impose silence, and pointed to the Indian. He was sitting up; his hands were free, and he was busily employed in disengaging his legs from the lashings which secured them. What to do I scarcely knew. If the prisoner would go away without hurting any one, I thought it would be the best thing that could happen. Then it occurred to me that if he escaped he might give information to his friends of our whereabouts, so I thought it would be best to stop him. I was on the point of singing out, when up sprung the Indian, the long knife of his sleeping guard in his hand. He was about to plunge it into the man, when Jerry’s and my shouts arrested his arm, and leaping down the trap-hole at which the ladder was placed, before those who had been aroused could catch hold of him, away he flew through the village. Pursuit was instantly made, but before the foot of the ladder could be reached, he was out of sight. Those who had gone after the Indian returned looking very foolish; and the man who had charge of him was soundly rated, but that was all that could be done. I found that the same reason for apprehension was entertained by the party which had occurred to me. However, after a time, the Mexicans got tired of watching, and all lay down again in their places. I could not go to sleep. I did not like the thought of that Indian escaping, and I wondered that Captain Driscoll did not take more precautions to guard against a surprise. I found that Jerry was awake, and when I told him my ideas he agreed with me. We lay still for a little time, and then we got up and looked out. The night was perfectly still and fine. We fancied that if anybody were stirring we should not fail to hear. We went back into the loft, and then found that Captain Driscoll was awake. He asked us what we had been about. We told him our apprehensions. He laughed, and replied, that after the drubbing we had given the red rascals they would not venture to come near us.“The Duke of Wellington tells us that we should never despise our enemies, whoever they may be,” I answered.Captain Driscoll laughed. “The duke was not thinking of Red Indians,” he observed. “Don’t be alarmed, my boys, the thieves won’t come.” Scarcely had he uttered the words, when there was a neighing, and kicking, and stamping of horses’ feet in the court-yard below us. We looked out. The place was full of Red Indians!“To arms! to arms!” shouted the captain. Everybody was instantly on their feet. I found that he had more arrangements than I had fancied. The Indians had got over the walls of the court-yard, but the gate was so blocked up that they could not open it to get our horses through. Their only outlet was through our house. The door leading to this was instantly occupied by some of the Mexicans, while others ran their rifles through all the crevices and holes in the walls, and began firing away at the Indians. They, disappointed in their attempt to carry off our horses, after ham-stringing several of them, leaped back over the walls, exposing themselves as they did so to the rifles of the Mexicans. Several were shot down, but the greater number made their escape. No one attempted to follow them, however, for there could be no doubt that a large party of them were in the neighbourhood, and that they would very likely renew their attack on us. They did not disappoint us. In less than a quarter of an hour the trampling of horses’ hoofs was heard, and through the gloom of night a large body of horsemen was seen galloping up through the street of the ruined village. As they got near, they gave vent to the most unearthly shrieks and cries, intending, undoubtedly, to terrify us. Captain Driscoll was not, however, totally unprepared for them. He had stationed the best marksmen of the party behind the walls of the enclosure and at the windows of the house. There was little time, however, to make the arrangements, but each man seemed to know pretty well what he had to do. Not a shot was fired, not a word was uttered. The Indians, expecting an easy victory, galloped along the road, flourishing their lances, or holding their rifles ready to fire as soon as any one appeared to fire at. They got close up to the walls of the house, and there halted, fancying apparently that we had already decamped. Some got off their horses, to examine the ground for our trail.“Tira! tira!—fire, my lads, fire!” shouted our leader in Spanish and English. Every one of us obeyed the order, with such effect that fully a dozen savages were knocked over, and many more wounded. We lost not a moment in loading again. The savages, firing their rifles at us, rode desperately up to the walls, as if intending to jump off their horses and climb over them. Had they succeeded in so doing, they might have overwhelmed us with their numbers. They were, however, received with another volley, delivered with such good effect that their courage failed them, and, wheeling about, they galloped away down the road as fast as they could tear. Two Mexicans only were wounded, and not very seriously. As may be supposed, no one went to sleep again that night; and as soon as day broke we were all in our saddles, that we might reach Durango before dark. We now proceeded with something like military order, to avoid a surprise; for it was thought probable that the Indians might have formed an ambush on the road, with the intention of attacking us. In the afternoon, as we rode along, we caught sight of a body of horsemen winding their way down a hill on the opposite side of the valley. They might be Indians. Each man examined the lock of his musket or rifle, and felt his side for his sword. They approached, and we then saw that they were a troop of cavalry. They were very ragged, and their horses were very miserable, and certainly they did not appear as if they could contend with the well-mounted Indians we had encountered. These Comanche Indians, as the Mexicans call them, succeed in their forays by the rapidity of their movements. They will accomplish a hundred miles in the day, driving several horses before them. When one is tired, they mount another. If any are killed by over-riding, their places can always be supplied from the nearest, cattle estate. They strike terror among the widely-scattered inhabitants of the borders; but there is no doubt, if they were bravely and systematically opposed, they would be very quickly driven away, or compelled to have recourse to more peaceable occupations for their support Durango is a pretty little town, with white-washed, flat-roofed houses, standing on a plain surrounded by high rugged hills, a remarkable feature being the number and size of the American aloes which grow in the neighbourhood. We put up at ameson, not remarkable for its cleanliness or the luxury of its provisions, and were not sorry to find ourselves once more in our saddles on our way back to Mazatlan. We reached that place without any adventure; and the same evening, having wished our kind friends, Captain Driscoll and Mr Dwyer, good-bye, sailed for San Francisco, the wonderful port of the gold regions of California.

“I am so glad you are saved, Jerry,” said I. These were the first words I spoke after we had got hold of the life-buoy.

“But are we saved?” he exclaimed. “Will the ship be able to come back? and if she does, will they see us, do you think?”

“They’ll not desert us—of that we may be certain,” I replied; and I thought how heart-broken Captain Frankland would be when he found that his son had fallen overboard and was in all probability lost. Strange to say, I did not think at all of my own perilous position. I had gone to save Jerry, and it seemed a matter of course that I must save him. It must be remembered that our heads were very little above the level of the water, and that although the sea had gone down considerably, we were surrounded by masses of foam—now sinking into the trough, now rising to the top of a wave. Our view, therefore, was very limited. We were looking out eagerly for the ship through the thickening gloom. Happily, when the life-buoy was let go, the trigger was pulled. This set off a sort of blue light, which burned at the top, and which water could not extinguish. We felt sure, therefore, that as long as that light continued burning we should be seen by those on board. Our great dread was that the light would go out before the ship could get back to us. We strained oureyes in the direction of the ship. The thickening gloom and mist were rapidly encircling her, and shrouding her from our sight.

“O Harry, Harry, she’s going away, and they won’t know where to look for us!” cried Jerry. “Poor father, what will he do? and my carelessness has brought you into this trouble, and poor Surley too. I wish you hadn’t jumped overboard for me.”

“I’m very glad I did, for I don’t think that you would have been alive now if I had not,” I answered; “and don’t have any regrets about me—I only did my duty, and I am sure that you would have done the same for me. But I say, do you remember what Mr Brand talked about when we were holding on by the bottom of the boat among the Falklands?”

“Yes, I do; something about our being summoned before many moments to stand before the Judge of all the world,” answered Jerry. “I’ve been thinking of that just now.”

“So have I,” said I. “Well, it strikes me that if we thought about it oftener we should be better prepared for the time when it does come. Come it will, I know,—‘as a thief in the night,’ the Bible says. I’ll try and think more on the subject, so that when the moment does come I may be ready.”

Many people make resolutions as we did: how few keep them! It is extraordinary that we should have been able to talk so much in the position in which we were placed. As I was saying, we strained our eyes gazing after the ship.

“Jerry,” I exclaimed suddenly, “she has hove about—I am certain of it! See, see! she is coming nearer!”

Breathlessly we watched. Even though the gloom was thickening, we could discern that her bow was turned towards us. We shouted in our eagerness—not to show where we were: there was no use in that, nor could we have made ourselves heard; the light also from the life-buoy was still burning brightly. On came the ship towards us. There was no doubt about the matter.

“There’s down with the helm!” cried Jerry. “They are going to heave to—hurrah! hurrah!”

In another minute the ship lay hove-to a short distance to windward of us. She looked like some huge dark spirit rising out of the ocean. We knew that they must be lowering a boat, though we could not see it. Then we shouted, to show that we were all right and in good heart. A shout from the boat’s crew was given in return, and a light was held up to show us that help was coming. Over the waves it came dancing towards us. In a few minutes more the boat was up to us, with Mr Brand at the helm. Whenever any very important work was to be performed, I observed the captain liked to intrust it to Cousin Silas.

“Take old Surley off first!” exclaimed Jerry. Manuel Silva, who had, it appeared, insisted on coming, was about to help him in. “He has had hard work to hold on, poor fellow.” So Surley was taken into the boat, and then I, for Jerry would not get in till the last; and then the life-buoy was lifted in, and in a very short time we were all safe on deck, and the ship once more steering towards the American coast.

We were earned below—that is to say, Jerry and I. The men took care of Surley. We were put into our berths, and the doctor came to us, and we were rubbed, and had some hot brandy and water; and then I, at all events, felt all to rights. Jerry had been hurt by his fall, and it took him much longer to recover. The captain went and sat by him; and Jerry told me that he heard him offering up his thanks to our merciful God for having restored his son to him. He then came and talked to me, and told me how sorry he should have been had I been lost, and how grateful he felt to me for having been the means of saving his son’s life. I do not know exactly what I said. I remember I told him what I was sure of,—that Jerry would have done exactly the same for me. There was this difference, that I could swim very well, and that Jerry could swim very little, so that I deserved less thanks than he should have done had he jumped in for me, considering that he would have run far greater risk for my sake than I had done for his. The captain smiled when I said this, but made no remark. He had always been kind to me,—he was now kinder than ever; but this did not prevent him from taking every means to make me a sailor, and to keep me to my duty, while at the same time he afforded me every opportunity of seeing as much as possible of the world through which we were passing.

Silva, as I before have said, by his quiet manners, readiness to lend a hand when any work was going forward, and anxiety to be on good terms with all, had completely won the good-will of everybody on board. He was evidently a man of some attainments, and was more likely to have been an officer than a man before the mast. With Jerry and me he was apparently very frank. He told us how when a young lad he had been turned adrift into the world to seek his fortune, without parents or any one to care for him; and how he had battled on, picking up information where he could, reading what books he could lay hands on, and laying in a store of knowledge for future use.

“I have served on board vessels of every description. I’ve been on board slavers, and merchant vessels, and men-of-war of several nations. I’ve served with Lord Cochrane both in the Pacific and Atlantic; and for a long time I was in an opium clipper in the China Seas; but, as you know, lads, a rolling stone gathers no moss, and here I am, as poor as I was when I first began life. However, there are plenty of ways by which a man may make his fortune if he chooses, and I must find one of them some of these days.”

He spoke in a desperate, careless tone, as if he in reality cared very little what became of him, or what he did. We had begun to feel a strong liking for the man, and were now inclined to pity him sincerely.

I will not describe another gale which came on, and drove us away to the southward and westward for several days, the wind shifting about so much that we scarcely knew where we had got to. At length, when it had moderated, so that an observation could be taken, we found that we were on the coast of Mexico, not far from the harbour of Mazatlan, near the entrance of the Gulf of California. The ship had been so battered about during the gale, that the captain was glad of an opportunity of running into harbour to repair damages, before proceeding to San Francisco, where he could not expect to find workmen, and where, if he remained long, his own crew might be tempted to desert. As we stood in for the shore, a few barren rocks or small islands appeared in sight, and running through, we found ourselves before a pretty little town, part of it standing on the foot of a steep promontory, and partly on a sandy bank which encircles a wide lagoon. This was Mazatlan. It is inhabited by Mexican Spaniards. The first mate, Mr Renshaw, had not been on shore during the voyage, so the captain insisted on his going with the doctor and Jerry and me. We first went to an inn—ameson, as it was called. It consisted of a quadrangular building, with a court-yard in the centre, and a corridor running round it. All the rooms opened into this corridor, and had no communication with each other. The corridor was the general lounging-place; and at night many of the guests who preferred air to privacy, slung their hammocks in it. Round the walls, or on the pillars, they also hung up their saddles and other riding gear. As to furniture, there is something like a bedstead, a wooden elevation which keeps the sleeper from the floor; but chairs and tables are luxuries seldom met with, while washhand-stands are things unheard of—washing being but little in vogue among the travelling population. We were fortunate in falling in with two Englishmen—that is to say, one, Captain Driscoll, was an Irishman, who had been in the Mexican service; and the other, Dr Dwyer, was a merchant. They knew the country well, and were travelling towards Durango, the largest town in the neighbourhood. They had with them two young men, sons ofrancheroes, as the Mexican cattle-farmers are called. They both lived some way up the country, and as they also were bound to Durango, and had speedily to return, it was arranged that we should all travel together. With the addition of our new friends’ two servants, we thus together mustered ten persons. We were all of us well-armed, and not without necessity: our friends told us that the country had lately been infested by large bands of Comanche Indians, who had been driven away from the borders of the United States, and had discovered that they were able to carry on their depredations among the Mexicans almost with impunity. “They are not likely to attack a well-armed party, and if they do, we can give a good account of them.” This account only the more excited our interest, and we quite hoped that the Indians would attack us. When we first went to the inn, we saw a large party on horseback just setting out, we understood, in the same direction. They were all armed to the teeth,—with pistols in their belts, some with swords by their sides, and others with lances or rifles. They made a gay appearance on their richly caparisoned steeds, with their broad-brimmed hats and feathers, bright-coloured sashes, trousers open at the knees, with silver buttons and loose jackets, with yellow boots and large silver spurs. They were laughing loudly and talking; and as they flourished their spears and rifles, they boasted how they would treat any Indians who might dare to attack them. The doctor said he thought that it was a pity we had not been ready to accompany them.

“Let them go alone,” answered our friend; “I know those boasting gentlemen too well to trust them. If attacked, they would leave all the fighting to us. We shall be better off by ourselves.” Our friends provided horses and all necessaries for the journey, and in high spirits we started, mounted on high Spanish saddles, from which it seemed impossible that we couldever tumble off. I will not attempt to describe the scenery in detail. It was hilly, and woody, and rocky, with valleys and waterfalls; now and then we came to a plain with a wide extent of open country, and then had to cross rocky ridges, and climb lofty heights among crags and pine-trees; but nothing came amiss to us or our horses. The young farmers had pressed us to stop a day at their father’s house, which was only a little out of the way. It was built in the fashion of the inn I have described, surrounded by the farm-buildings and pens for cattle. The father was a fine, hearty old man, dressed in the ancient Spanish costume; and their mother and sisters were kind, fresh-looking people, very unlike the parchment-skinned, withered crones we had seen in the town. They gave us for suppertortillas, which are thin cakes made of corn, and eggs, and fried beans, and some other things, to which we did justice. The next morning our friends asked us if we would like to see a hunt.

“Of what?” we asked.

“Of a bear,” was the answer. “One has been seen in the neighbourhood, and his destruction is resolved on.”

“Oh, by all means!” we exclaimed, wondering in what way the bear was to be hunted. “Let us go.”

After an early breakfast, we set out on horseback, accompanied by several men on foot carrying long poles. Each of the young rancheroes had a long coil of rope round his saddle-bow, to which one end was fastened—at the other was a running loop. This I found was a lasso—a weapon (for so it may be called) in their hands of very formidable character. The appearance the young rancheroes presented on horseback was very picturesque. Their saddle-cloths and saddles were richly worked, and the head-gear of their horses was adorned with gay tassels. Round their own heads, and necks, and waists, they wore bright-coloured handkerchiefs. Their jackets and trousers were made very loose, and adorned with a profusion of silver buttons; while on their heels they wore huge silver spurs, with rowels as large as the palm of a man’s hand. Two other rancheroes joined us. They had seen the hear, and found out his haunts. We reached a wild, rugged country, with a few trees in the valleys, and numerous large rocks jutting out in the sides of the hills.

“The rancheroes say that the bear’s cave is not far off from here,” observed one of our English friends. “We must be prepared for him. Keep by us and do as we do.” Scarcely had he spoken when a loud growl or snort was heard, and not a hundred yards from us a huge, grisly, brown monster rushed out from behind a rook, showing his teeth, and standing upon his hind-legs as if ready to fight. I had never seen a more ferocious-looking monster. While we were looking at him he went down on his fore-paws, and with a loud growl made a rush at us.

“Put spurs to your horses, and gallop down the valley, or he will be upon us!” exclaimed our friends. We were not slow to follow this advice. I looked round—the bear was following us. Fast as we went, unwieldy as the monster looked, he came as rapidly after us. I could not help thinking if one of our horses fell, what would become of the rider. It was not unlikely either that one of us, especially the first mate, who was not accustomed to ride, might tumble off. If so, the bear would certainly kill him. On we went as fast as our horses’ legs could carry us. The bear was, notwithstanding this, gaining on us. I kept alongside Jerry, so did the mate. Their horses could not go faster. I wondered what had become of the rancheroes; I did not see them. Another terrific growl was heard, and looking over my shoulder, I saw that the bear had gained still more on us. He was not eighty paces from us. Just then I saw Jerry pulling at his horse’s bridle. He hauled away lustily, but it was too late. Down went the poor animal over a big stone, and away flew Jerry over his head. I shrieked with terror. How could I help him? I turned round, hoping to divert the bear’s attention, but the monster took no notice of me, and made straight at Jerry. At that moment, when I thought that it was all up with him, I heard a loudswitch, as if something were passing rapidly through the air, and two of the rancheroes darted out from behind a cliff, having thrown their lassoes over the bear’s head and shoulders. Away they galloped in an opposite direction to which he was going, till their ropes were at their fullest tension, and then their horses drew up, planting their feet firmly on the ground and dragging against the astonished animal. Instead of seizing the prey he expected, he found himself drawn up with a halter round his neck, and heating the air in a vain endeavour to escape. When he found that he could make no head against the two rancheroes, who were endeavouring to stop him, he turned round in a fit of fury and endeavoured to overtake them. Keeping their lassoes at full stretch, away they went before him; and if he stopped a moment to try to get rid of the nooses, they gave him a jerk which made him move on again. Jerry was, happily, not hurt by his fall, and having caught his horse, the mate, and I helped him quickly to mount and to overtake the rest of the party who were following the hunters. After galloping along the valley for a quarter of a mile or so, the two other rancheroes darted out from behind a rock, and whirling their lassoes round their heads, cast them with unerring aim over the shoulders of the bear, and then galloped away from him. The monster had now four lassoes round him. Mighty as was his strength, and fierce as were his struggles, he was in an instant brought to the ground. He bit, and struggled, and snarled, or rather growled in vain; tighter and tighter grew each noose till he was hauled over on his back. Some of the men on foot, who had been hidden in the neighbourhood, rushed forward, and threw their lassoes over his legs. He was now utterly helpless. Then the men came with their long poles, with which they formed a sort of litter, and off they carried poor Bruin in triumph. It was certainly much pleasanter examining him now he was made fast than when he was at liberty. We were told that his strength is so great that he can, without difficulty, overcome the huge bison whom he meets with in the plains. The doctor called him theUrsus ferox. His claws were long and strong, his canine teeth of great size, and his eyes deeply sunk in his head. We followed the huge prisoner in triumph till we came to a road, when he was put on a cart and rumbled off to the farm. Thence he was forwarded to Mazatlan, and very likely shipped off to some distant part of the world.

On our way back to the rancho, we encountered a herd of wild cattle, one of which the young rancheroes wished to capture. Off they set in pursuit of a fine bull they had singled out from the herd. One of them rode up on the right side of the animal about twenty feet off, the other kept a little behind at about the same distance on the left side. Away flew the noose of the right-hand man over the head of the beast; at the same moment the ranchero behind cast his by a peculiar knack over the left hind-foot, as the animal lifted it in running. The sudden jerk brought him to the ground, and the other ends of the lassoes being fastened to the saddles, the horses stood perfectly still, dragging away with all their might in opposite directions. Their masters quietly dismounted, and leaving their horses thus keeping the bull secure, they leisurely approached him. They then secured his feet in such a way that he could only just walk, and bent his head down to his legs, so that he could not butt, and making him get up, led him away a prisoner. Several were treated in the same way. We wonderfully enjoyed our day’s excursion.

The next morning by daybreak we set off to continue our journey. It was very pleasant travelling. Sometimes Jerry and I rode together, sometimes with the doctor or Mr Renshaw, and at others with our two English friends, from whom we gained a good deal of information. From all I heard, I should not at all like to live in Mexico. The descendants of the fierce conquerors have become a most degenerate race, without religion, without morality—each man ready to destroy his neighbour for the sake of getting into his place. That object seems to be the only end and aim of all their politics. As to patriotism, it does not exist. The nearest approach to the sentiment is made by those who wish for a settled government, that they may enjoy their property in peace and quiet. The consequences of the constant change of government are, that brigands abound, that the confines of the country are left open to the depredations of the Red Indians, and that the army of the state is left in a dreadfully disorganised condition—ill paid, ill fed, ill clothed, and utterly unable to cope with the evils which beset them. We stopped for a few hours at a ruined house to take our mid-day meal, and then continued our journey. Soon after this we came to some blackened walls which showed where a village once stood. We learned from the rancheroes that only a few weeks before there existed on the spot a pretty hamlet, with a contented and happy population of some fifty persons or so. One morning, just as they were setting forth to their work, the dreaded war whoop of the Indians was heard. Two or three hundred Red Indian warriors, armed with spears, rifles, and round shields, were seen galloping towards the devoted village. Some of the people fled. All tried to flee, for so completely unprepared were they that there was no time to make any defence. The women and children, as they were overtaken, were indiscriminately slaughtered. The plunder that was considered worth carrying off was collected, and then in wantonness the village was set on fire. A few of the fugitives had at length reached Durango with the tale of their misfortunes. Some troops had been sent out with orders to exterminate the savages, but they took very good care not to come near them, while the Indians indeed were probably making a foray some two or three hundred miles away. At night we reached a rancho, the owner of which was known to our friends. He received us hospitably, slung hammocks for us in one of the corridors of the house, and gave us the usual tortillas, and eggs, and beans for a feast, in addition to some very fine beef. The evening of the next day was approaching, when, as we were descending a hill, we saw in the plain below us a number of horsemen galloping about. We were too far off to make out what they were. The rancheroes gazed earnestly at them. Mr Renshaw had a good glass with him.

“Why, there are red fellows on horseback, with spears and shields, but without a rag on them,” he exclaimed. “They seem to be fighting with another set of fellows dressed as Spaniards, and, hang it, the latter are turning heels and flying.” The rancheroes seemed very much excited all the time, and rode a little way down the hill, that they might better see what was going on. They quickly turned round and beckoned to us to join them. We did so, and soon saw that if we would save the lives of the Mexicans, there was not a moment to be lost. Although there were thirty of them, there were fully four times as many Indians. It was not difficult to divine what had occurred. The Mexicans had been taken by surprise, and instead of pulling up and keeping close together, each man had galloped off in the hope of saving his own life, without thinking of his companions. The Indians had thus got in among them, and had already pierced several through with their long spears. Each Indian warrior, however, as soon as he had killed or disabled a man, stopped to take his scalp, and this gave time to some of the Mexicans once more to unite and to present a better front to the enemy. The resistance they were making, however, was very feeble, and as we galloped on we saw that they had once more begun to break. The Indians had been so intent on the attack that they had not perceived our approach, neither had the Mexicans.

“Now, my friends,” exclaimed our friend Captain Driscoll, who seemed as if by right to take the command, “keep together, shoulder to shoulder, and dash boldly in among those red villains. Cut them down, and pistol them as best you can, shouting at the top of your voices. I know them of old; they won’t stand that. When they hear English voices they’ll run; they know what they are to get. Wait till I give the word, though.”

It was very exciting. Down the steep hill we dashed at full speed, our horses seeming clearly to understand what we were about. Already several more Mexicans had, through their cowardice, lost their lives. We were within two hundred yards of the scene of strife. “Now’s the time!” shouted our leader. “Hurrah, hurrah! my lads! Give way, you red scoundrels!” we all shouted at the top of our voices. The Indians, hearing our cries, turned their heads, and seeing a large body of horsemen coming down the road, and not knowing how many there might be following, thought that it was high time for them to be off. Our appearance, also, gave the Mexicans courage, and they charged more manfully than they had done before.

“Wallop ahoo aboo, Erin gobragh!” sung out our leader, Captain Driscoll. “Fly, ye red scoundrels; fly, or we will cut you into mince-meat!” Whether the Indians understood what he said I do not know, but as he suited the action to the word, wielding a pretty heavy Toledo, they took his advice, and, disengaging themselves from the melée, urged their horses to a rapid flight. We, however, were too close to them to allow them to escape altogether with impunity, and three of them were knocked off the backs of their steeds, two of whom were mortally wounded. A third, I thought, was lead. He lay on the ground without moving, or apparently breathing, his tomahawk still held in his death-grasp. The cowardly Mexicans very soon put the other two poor wretches out of their pain, by running them through and through with their lances. Two or three of the heroes were in the act of charging the dead man, with the intention of running him through, when up he sprung to his feet, and away he went as quick almost, it seemed, as a flash of lightning after his comrades! Several of our party gave chase after him, but though he was on foot it appeared as if he would distance us. His leg, however, had been wounded, and he had miscalculated his strength. His pace slackened. Once or twice he stumbled; he felt that he could run no more. He was a brave fellow, and was determined to die like a man, with his face to his enemies. Flourishing his tomahawk above his head, he uttered his war cry, and rushed desperately towards us. A Mexican’s lance struck him on the shoulder, and brought him to the ground. The other Mexicans were about to despatch him, but Captain Driscoll sung out in Spanish, “Spare his life; spare his life; we do not kill fallen enemies;” and Jerry and I, impelled by the same feelings, threw ourselves before him, and by signs showed that we had resolved to protect him. The Indian seemed to comprehend what we were about, though perhaps he thought we wanted to preserve his life only to torture him, for he did not show that he was in any way obliged to us. The moment the lance was withdrawn, he sprung up with his weapon in his hand, ready to fight on; but one of the rancheroes threw his lasso over his shoulders, and, with a jerk which, had it been round his neck, would have dislocated it, brought him again to the ground.

“We will bring him along with us,” said Captain Driscoll; “the poor wretch has shown great courage, and deserves to live. Perhaps we may learn from him something about his tribe.”

The captive Indian was dragged along; and, finding that at present he had no chance of escape, he came on quietly. No less than eight of the Mexicans had lost their lives, so sudden had been the attack of the red men, and most of the bodies had been deprived of their scalps. As it was impossible to carry the corpses with us, and we had not time to bury them, they were left to afford a banquet to the birds of the air and the beasts of the forest—a common occurrence in this country. Some of those who had run away now came back, and by degrees the whole party was once more collected together. It was already late in the afternoon, and we were anxious to find some place where we could rest for the night. There was a village, we heard, at no great distance, and by riding pretty hard we might reach it by nightfall. After what had occurred, this we were all well disposed to do, for we could not tell at what moment the Comanches, when they found that our numbers were smaller than they had supposed, might come back and attack us. It was amusing to hear the vapouring and boasting of the Mexicans, as our friends, with their own comments, translated it to us. The greatest boasters were the greatest cowards. Not one but could offer an excellent reason for having run away. Several were going to procure help; others to get behind the Indians, to attack them in the rear; others were heroically making a diversion, to draw off their attention from their friends. It was nearly dark when we reached the village, but not a sign of living beings was there—no dog barked, no child’s cheerful voice was heard, not a cock crew. Alas! there were blackened roofs and walls, and charred door-posts. The Indians had been there; all the inhabitants must have been slain or had fled. We rode through the hamlet; not a human being was to be found. One house—the largest in the place—had escaped entire destruction. It had two stories; a ladder led to the upper one. It would afford us shelter during the night, which gave signs of being a tempestuous one. Behind the house were some sheds, where our horses might be tethered. The first thing to be done was to obtain food for them. It was more important that they should be fed than that we should; so a party was sent out to cut grass, and soon returned with a sufficiency. Most of the people had brought provisions, as we likewise had done, and thus in that respect we were very well off. Captain Driscoll, by tacit consent, was chosen to make the arrangements for our security during the night. In the lower room was a large hearth, on which a blazing fire was made, and by the light of it we ate our somewhat frugal supper. We then all climbed up into the loft, and the Mexicans, with theirscrapes, and saddles, and saddle-cloths, soon made themselves comfortable beds, and we imitated their example. The Indian prisoner had been made to come up, and then they bound his arms and legs, and he sat in one corner with a man to watch him. I had been asleep some time, when I felt Jerry pulling at my arm. I looked up. The light of the moon was streaming in through a gap in the roof, for the storm which had threatened had passed off. Jerry put his finger to his lips to impose silence, and pointed to the Indian. He was sitting up; his hands were free, and he was busily employed in disengaging his legs from the lashings which secured them. What to do I scarcely knew. If the prisoner would go away without hurting any one, I thought it would be the best thing that could happen. Then it occurred to me that if he escaped he might give information to his friends of our whereabouts, so I thought it would be best to stop him. I was on the point of singing out, when up sprung the Indian, the long knife of his sleeping guard in his hand. He was about to plunge it into the man, when Jerry’s and my shouts arrested his arm, and leaping down the trap-hole at which the ladder was placed, before those who had been aroused could catch hold of him, away he flew through the village. Pursuit was instantly made, but before the foot of the ladder could be reached, he was out of sight. Those who had gone after the Indian returned looking very foolish; and the man who had charge of him was soundly rated, but that was all that could be done. I found that the same reason for apprehension was entertained by the party which had occurred to me. However, after a time, the Mexicans got tired of watching, and all lay down again in their places. I could not go to sleep. I did not like the thought of that Indian escaping, and I wondered that Captain Driscoll did not take more precautions to guard against a surprise. I found that Jerry was awake, and when I told him my ideas he agreed with me. We lay still for a little time, and then we got up and looked out. The night was perfectly still and fine. We fancied that if anybody were stirring we should not fail to hear. We went back into the loft, and then found that Captain Driscoll was awake. He asked us what we had been about. We told him our apprehensions. He laughed, and replied, that after the drubbing we had given the red rascals they would not venture to come near us.

“The Duke of Wellington tells us that we should never despise our enemies, whoever they may be,” I answered.

Captain Driscoll laughed. “The duke was not thinking of Red Indians,” he observed. “Don’t be alarmed, my boys, the thieves won’t come.” Scarcely had he uttered the words, when there was a neighing, and kicking, and stamping of horses’ feet in the court-yard below us. We looked out. The place was full of Red Indians!

“To arms! to arms!” shouted the captain. Everybody was instantly on their feet. I found that he had more arrangements than I had fancied. The Indians had got over the walls of the court-yard, but the gate was so blocked up that they could not open it to get our horses through. Their only outlet was through our house. The door leading to this was instantly occupied by some of the Mexicans, while others ran their rifles through all the crevices and holes in the walls, and began firing away at the Indians. They, disappointed in their attempt to carry off our horses, after ham-stringing several of them, leaped back over the walls, exposing themselves as they did so to the rifles of the Mexicans. Several were shot down, but the greater number made their escape. No one attempted to follow them, however, for there could be no doubt that a large party of them were in the neighbourhood, and that they would very likely renew their attack on us. They did not disappoint us. In less than a quarter of an hour the trampling of horses’ hoofs was heard, and through the gloom of night a large body of horsemen was seen galloping up through the street of the ruined village. As they got near, they gave vent to the most unearthly shrieks and cries, intending, undoubtedly, to terrify us. Captain Driscoll was not, however, totally unprepared for them. He had stationed the best marksmen of the party behind the walls of the enclosure and at the windows of the house. There was little time, however, to make the arrangements, but each man seemed to know pretty well what he had to do. Not a shot was fired, not a word was uttered. The Indians, expecting an easy victory, galloped along the road, flourishing their lances, or holding their rifles ready to fire as soon as any one appeared to fire at. They got close up to the walls of the house, and there halted, fancying apparently that we had already decamped. Some got off their horses, to examine the ground for our trail.

“Tira! tira!—fire, my lads, fire!” shouted our leader in Spanish and English. Every one of us obeyed the order, with such effect that fully a dozen savages were knocked over, and many more wounded. We lost not a moment in loading again. The savages, firing their rifles at us, rode desperately up to the walls, as if intending to jump off their horses and climb over them. Had they succeeded in so doing, they might have overwhelmed us with their numbers. They were, however, received with another volley, delivered with such good effect that their courage failed them, and, wheeling about, they galloped away down the road as fast as they could tear. Two Mexicans only were wounded, and not very seriously. As may be supposed, no one went to sleep again that night; and as soon as day broke we were all in our saddles, that we might reach Durango before dark. We now proceeded with something like military order, to avoid a surprise; for it was thought probable that the Indians might have formed an ambush on the road, with the intention of attacking us. In the afternoon, as we rode along, we caught sight of a body of horsemen winding their way down a hill on the opposite side of the valley. They might be Indians. Each man examined the lock of his musket or rifle, and felt his side for his sword. They approached, and we then saw that they were a troop of cavalry. They were very ragged, and their horses were very miserable, and certainly they did not appear as if they could contend with the well-mounted Indians we had encountered. These Comanche Indians, as the Mexicans call them, succeed in their forays by the rapidity of their movements. They will accomplish a hundred miles in the day, driving several horses before them. When one is tired, they mount another. If any are killed by over-riding, their places can always be supplied from the nearest, cattle estate. They strike terror among the widely-scattered inhabitants of the borders; but there is no doubt, if they were bravely and systematically opposed, they would be very quickly driven away, or compelled to have recourse to more peaceable occupations for their support Durango is a pretty little town, with white-washed, flat-roofed houses, standing on a plain surrounded by high rugged hills, a remarkable feature being the number and size of the American aloes which grow in the neighbourhood. We put up at ameson, not remarkable for its cleanliness or the luxury of its provisions, and were not sorry to find ourselves once more in our saddles on our way back to Mazatlan. We reached that place without any adventure; and the same evening, having wished our kind friends, Captain Driscoll and Mr Dwyer, good-bye, sailed for San Francisco, the wonderful port of the gold regions of California.

Chapter Twelve.Californian experiences.One fine morning we found theTriton—one of a crowd of vessels of all rigs and sizes—standing in with a fair breeze towards the far-famed harbour of San Francisco. High black rocks ran out of the sea before us, like monsters guarding the entrance to that domain of boundless wealth. Loud roars, too, saluted our ears, which, on a further examination of the rocks, were found to proceed from a large congregation of sea-lions assembled at their bases. As we glided by, not fifty fathoms from some of the rocks, they looked up at us with inquiring eyes, as if to know why we had come there; and, certainly, from their formidable heads, they appeared as if they were well able to defend their native territory. Jerry could not resist the temptation of firing his rifle among them. It had a wonderful effect on the whole body; big and little sea-lions, and cows, and seals, all began floundering away in the greatest dismay into the water—their awkward-looking movements being very amusing; at the same time, thousands of birds, which had been perched on the rocks, or floating in the water, rose into the air, with loud screams, circling round our heads; while porpoises, or some other huge monsters of the deep, kept gambolling around us, and now and then leaping out of the water in sportive humour.All this exhibition of wild animal life was, it must be remembered, within a few miles of the rich and populous city of San Francisco. The transition was very great; yet but a short time back a rude fort and a few small huts were the only settled abodes of man. The actual harbour begins at a spot called the Golden Gate, where a high rock with a flat summit projects into the water. On it the American Government are constructing a fort, which no hostile vessel will be able to pass with impunity. Passing this point, we saw before us on the right a perfect forest of masts, with every flag under the sun flying aloft; and behind them appeared, on a low hill rising like an amphitheatre from the harbour, the far-famed city itself. It was a busy, exciting scene. Some of the vessels brought bands of English adventurers; others crowds of Chinese, with round felt hats and long tails; others Malays; and some even seemed to have blacks on board. At a short distance from the city were moored several large ships, their masts struck, their rigging unrove, deserted by their crews, and some by their officers likewise. The doctor, Jerry, and I, were the only persons who accompanied the captain on shore. The mates remained to guard against all risk of any of the crew deserting. It was only just daylight when we landed, but all the world was astir. Time is considered too precious here to lose a moment. The town itself presented an extraordinary collection of strong contrasts: there were wooden sheds, and tents, and mud hovels, mixed up with vast stores and large dwelling-houses; while carts, and waggons, and coaches of every variety of build were moving about in all directions, among people from every part of Europe—Germans, Italians, French, Greeks, and English—the latter, of course, predominating as to numbers; Yankees, with their keen, intelligent looks; Californians, in their serapes; Mexicans, with their laced breeches and cuffs; and Chilians, in broad-brimmed hats; Sandwich Islanders, and Negroes from every part of Africa; Chinese, with their long tails and varied coloured robes; and Malays and other people from the East. Indeed, Europe, Asia, Africa, and America were there fully represented,—all brought together for the one object—a search for gold—all thinking of their own business, and caring little or nothing for anybody else, so that their aims were not interfered with. Those who had been to the diggings were pretty clearly to be distinguished by the one dark brown earthy hue which pervaded their dress, and such parts of their countenances as their huge tangled beards and whiskers allowed to be visible.We first went to the market, to obtain provisions for the ship. It was already crowded with purchasers. There was a magnificent display of fruit and vegetables, and fish of all sorts and strange shapes, and huge lobsters and turtle of a size to make an alderman’s mouth water; and then in the meat-market there were hung up before the butchers’ stalls huge elks with their superb antlers, and great big brown bears—just such monsters as the one we saw captured, for they are considered dainties here—and beautiful antelopes, and squirrels, and hares, and rabbits in vast heaps—not to speak of pigs, and sheep, and oxen. The beef, we heard, was, and found to be, excellent. I mention these things to show how the inhabitants of a vast city like San Francisco, though just sprung into existence, can, by proper arrangement, be fed. A large number of the shops are kept by Chinese, who sell all the fancy and ornamental work, and act as washerwomen. They are said to be great rogues, and are, under that pretext, often cruelly treated by greater rogues than themselves. It is a sad thing to see heathen people coming among nominal Christians, who, paying no regard to the religion they are supposed to profess, prevent them from wishing to inquire into the truth of a faith they might, with a good example before them, be tempted to adopt. One Chinese appeared to us so much like another, with their thick lips, little slits of eyes, ugly parchment faces, in which age makes no perceptible difference, that it seemed as if we were meeting the same person over and over again. The signs over their shops are written in Chinese, and translated into the oddest English and Spanish I ever saw. One of the features in the street population of this city which struck us were the shoe-blacks. Each is provided with a comfortable arm-chair and a newspaper. He slips his employer into the chair, hands him the paper to read, and then kneeling down, works away till he has polished the leather boots; for which his demand is a quarter of a dollar—the smallest coin in circulation, it seemed to us. The sum is paid without a word; off walks the man with the clean boots, and one with a dirty pair soon takes his place.There is no want of restaurants and cafés, or of places where food in abundance could be procured, though the price was rather astonishing. Captain Frankland had some business to transact with a merchant—he left us at one of them to dine. When he rejoined us, he told us that he would take us to a scene in which he hoped we should never be tempted to mix. We went out, and soon reached a magnificent building, full of spacious halls, with an orchestra keeping up a succession of attractive airs. Making our way, not without difficulty, through the crowd, we saw before us several long, green-covered tables, surrounded by people, who appeared to be engaged in playing, on a grand scale, every conceivable game of chance. Never did I see countenances so palpably expressive of the worst passions of our evil nature. The keepers of the banks were evidently villains of the darkest dye. They sat with their revolvers on the table, guarding the heaps of gold before them, as they skilfully managed the cards and dice over which they presided. The captain assured us that they and those in league with them—the professional players—always contrived to collect the largest proportion of the gold in circulation—many of their foolish victims dissipating in one evening all the hard-earned gains of a year. There were ladies, too, among them, gambling as eagerly as the men—dishonouring their sex. The sight of those countenances and the whole air of the place was sickening. “Fifty ounces”—“A hundred”—“Two hundred ounces”—were the words we heard repeated on every side. Presently a man started up—a fine, handsome young fellow—from before whom a heap of gold had been swept, clutching his hair. “And I was to have started for home to-morrow. O Mary!” he exclaimed, unconsciously, as he passed us. There was the report of a pistol—a cry. The young man was picked up dead at the door. The players went on as before, scarcely turning their heads to hear the account. Who the unhappy youth was, no one knew. We had seen enough to answer the captain’s object in taking us to the place. We strolled on through the city till we reached the Chinese quarter. There, also, we were attracted by a strange noise intended for music, produced by two stringed-fiddles, violoncellos, drums, and gongs, into a building—a very shabby place; yet in the centre was a table with heaps of gold upon it, and surrounded by a number of odd little men in wide jackets, short trousers, long tails at their backs, huge embroidered slippers on their feet, all deeply engaged, as if some most serious matter were going forward—their queer eyes twinkling with mistrust as they followed the course of a game which was being played. In the middle of the table was a heap of counters covered by a bowl, under which the players put their hands, and drew out a number of them at a time, which they counted with a long stick, and then the heaps of money changed owners, but on what grounds we could in no way discover.“You laugh at those odd little Chinese, and think them fail objects to joke about,” observed the captain; “but we must remember that they are men with souls to be saved, responsible beings, like the unhappy people in that gorgeous saloon we were in just now. The vice in which we have seen them indulging is the same, though, as their light is less, they may be less to blame. My hope is, that what you have seen to-night will make you wish never to see the same sights again.”In the public room of the hotel, where we remained for the night, a number of people were collected from all parts of the world. Some had been at the diggings; some had made money; several had come back as poor as they went, and much the worse in health; others were about to go up to try their fortunes, with secret hopes of succeeding where others had failed. The conversation of many of them was very amusing. One man especially interested us by the account he gave of his first journey up the country. He was evidently, from the tone of his voice and manners, a gentleman by education, though in appearance as rough and weather-beaten as a navvy who has put on a black coat for Sunday. He addressed himself to us, as he probably thought that we had come out to turn gold-diggers, and he wished to warn us of the dangers to be encountered.“I had a good appointment in England, but I wanted to become rich in a hurry, so I threw it up, and came out here,” he began. “You may doubt the wisdom of the proceeding; so do I now. I had a companion, and with him and the mate of the ship I arrived in, as also her carpenter and a Chinese boy, I arranged to go up the country. With the implements we had provided, and as much food as we could carry, we got on board a small schooner, bound up the river to Stockton. We had on board a strange assemblage of people. Many of them looked quite capable of cutting our throats. They were mostly armed, and bowie-knives and revolvers were constantly exhibited. When after two days’ voyage we landed, we were glad to get into a wretched hut, where we could obtain food, and rest, and shelter, to prepare ourselves for our tramp to the diggings. We remained only one day, for the charges were so high at the inn that we should have been ruined had we stayed longer. Of the forty people who had come up in the schooner, very few accompanied us. We found a party of about thirty starting, with five or six mules carrying provisions. We joined ourselves to them. Each of us had a rifle slung to his back, in addition to a week’s provisions and our mining utensils, while our pistols and knives were stuck in our belts. We went on for two days pretty easily. I shall never forget the appearance of some people we met, who had come overland from the western states of America,—their haggard eyes, long matted hair, shrunk forms, and tattered clothes, which hung on them like loose rags fluttering in the wind. They were the remnants of a large party, the greater number of whom with their horses and cattle had died on the way, from the hardships they had to encounter. The latter part of the road, they said, was strewed with the whitening bones of men and animals, broken-down waggons, and abandoned furniture. The next day’s journey gave us a specimen of what those poor fellows had endured. The sun came out with intense fury, and struck scorching down on our heads. Not a drop of water could be got. There was a pool, we were told, some way on. We reached the spot: it was dry. Our thirst grew intolerable. Those who had been accustomed to take spirits suffered more than the rest. We lay down that night at a place where there was no wood. We had no fire, therefore, to cook our provisions. We could not eat the meat we had brought with us raw. All night long the wolves howled horribly in our ears. At daybreak we arose and pushed on. There was a water-hole, we were told, a few miles ahead. We reached the spot: it was dry. Many who had hitherto held out gave way to despair. The muleteers had skins with water, but they guarded them, revolver in hand, to moisten their own and their mules’ lips. Their lives depended on those of their animals. A few of us had flasks, but we could only venture to take a drop of the precious fluid at a time. One man had a bottle of brandy. He boasted at first of his cleverness in having secured it. Now, he went about offering the whole of it for a drop of water. Several of the brandy drinkers sank down. They had agreed to keep together. They implored us to help them. A deaf ear was turned to their entreaties. Our own lives depended on our hastening on. Three or four others dropped by the way, one by one. No one waited for them. ‘On, on, on!’ was the cry; ‘Water, water, water!’ At length, towards evening, the mules pricked up their ears: trees appeared in the distance. We hurried on. A glittering stream gladdened our sight. We rushed into it, greedily lapping up the water. Our mules drank eagerly. We felt revived and strengthened. There was abundance of wood: we lighted a fire and dressed our provisions. Several birds, and two or three animals were shot to increase our feast.“Ha, ha, ha, how we laughed. To-morrow, we said, we shall be able to push on to the mines, and begin to dig for gold. In an instant every one was talking of gold. ‘Gold, gold, gold,’ was heard on every side. Did any one think of the poor wretches we had left dying on the road—men—brethren by nature, by a common faith—men with souls? Not one of us thought of going back. At all events, not one of us offered to go back. An all-powerful loadstone was dragging us on—the lust of getting gold. Had we gone back to relieve our fellow-beings, we should have been unable to proceed the next day for the diggings. A whole day would have been lost. Oh, most foul and wretched was the mania which inspired us! Unnatural! no; it was that of fallen, debased human nature; it was too true to that nature. Those miserable men must have died horribly—devoured by wolves or scalped by Indians. The next day we pushed eagerly on; yet we had to sleep high up on the side of a snow-capped mountain; thence we were to descend to the scene of our labours. Bitterly cold it was; yet we dared not move, for frightful precipices yawned around. We reached the first diggings that evening. The miners had just knocked off work, and crowded round us to hear the news, and to see what we had brought. Rough as they looked, by far the greater number, I judged by the tone of their voices, belong to the educated classes. And shall I become like one of these men? I thought. I soon became like one of them, and rougher still. ‘I expected a friend about this time,’ said one, describing him. He was among those who had fallen and been deserted. He made but few other inquiries. He knew that such events were too common to complain. I saw him brush away a tear, as he turned from us. That man was too good for the company he was among. We encamped by ourselves, we knew not whom we must trust. After this our travelling party broke up. My companions from the ship and I were to work together. We fixed on a spot, and erected our rude hut; then we bought a rocker and shovel, pick-axe and spade, with two tin pans, and set to work. I dug out the earth, another carried it, and a third washed it in the rocker. Our success was tolerable; but it was many days before we got enough to pay for the articles we had purchased, and our provisions. In the meantime, what scenes of wretchedness, misery, dissipation, and violence, did I behold! In every direction men were dying of fever and dysentery. At night the gambling booths were filled with those who rapidly got rid of the earnings of many days. I was witness, too, of an encounter between two large parties of diggers. One party had encroached on the ground prepared by the other, and refused to quit it. Bowie-knives, and pick-axes, and hatchets, rifles and pistols, were instantly brought into play. A sanguinary encounter ensued. Numbers fell on both sides; at last one party turned and fled. I visited the scene of the strife soon after. A dozen or more human beings lay on the ground dead, or dying—arms cut off—pierced through and through with knives—skulls fractured with spades and pick-axes, and many shot to death. The dying had been left to die alone without aid or pity, while their companions returned to their gold digging. Often and often I sickened at the sights I beheld, but still I continued at the work. I was compelled to continue at it. I had given up everything for it. I was like a slave chained to it by the leg. Gladly would I have gone back to my steady occupation and quiet life, surrounded by those I respected and loved. I have only partly described the hardships we endured. We had famine, and cold, and rain. Often we were without fuel, our clothing was ragged and insufficient, and sickness in every form came among us. Besides desperate quarrels among the diggers, the Indians came down upon us—fierce, sanguinary warriors, eager for our scalps. Their vengeance had been excited by aggressions made on them by the whites. We could scarcely leave the camp without risking an attack from them. Many diggers became their victims. Such was our life for months. At length my companions and I, by unexpected good fortune, saved a sufficient amount of gold dust to enable us to return to San Francisco. Steady work at home would have enabled me to lay by nearly as much, while my health and spirits would not have been broken as they now are. We kept together to defend each other. Many diggers on their way to the city, after labouring for years, have been robbed and murdered. My companions spent most of their hard won wealth, and returned to the diggings, where, one after the other, they fell victims to disease, or the knives of assassins. I had had enough of the life, and my knowledge of business enabled me to procure a situation in a merchant’s office in this place, where, by employing the sum I had scraped together, and by stript attention to business, I have realised an amount four times as large, in a quarter of the time it took me to collect it at the diggings.”“What you have said, sir, is very true,” observed another gentleman present. “Things, however, have somewhat mended of late. Still, a gentleman has to lead little better than a dog’s life in those regions. For my part, although I was what is considered very lucky, I soon sickened of it, and considered myself fortunate in being able to get away with my gold in my pocket and a whole skin on my back. Still this is a wonderful country, and will become a great country some day. I have travelled over a good deal of it. Not long ago I travelled up one of the most beautiful valleys in the world. At the bottom was a green grassy sward with a pure bright stream running rapidly through it, over a clear, pebbly bottom. The hills on either side were clothed with trees of various descriptions, rocks here and there jutting out between them of many fantastic forms, while my ears were assailed with the cheerful sound of falling water, and my eyes gladdened by the sight of sparkling cascades flowing into basins, whence arose masses of white foam. Further on arose, appearing at the end of the valley, range beyond range of mountains, the higher capped with snow. Though the sun was hot, the air was pure and cool as it came off the mountains, tempered by the numerous cascades. At length I reached a spot where the valley widened, and there, spread out before me, lay a blue shining lake fringed by lofty trees, with the hills rising gradually behind them, while the water seemed alive with fish, which leaped from its calm depths, and with the water-fowl which skimmed over its surface. You’ll all say that was a lovely spot.”We all agreed that it must be, and that we should like to take up our abode there.“So I thought,” he answered. “But as a man cannot well live on fish and water-fowl without corn, and potatoes, and vegetables, not to speak of beef and mutton, and none of these things were to be procured within a hundred miles of the place, I was glad to get out of it. There’s another wonderful spot away to the south, near Sousa, where I have been. There is a stream called the Stanislas river. Up it I went, and then journeyed along one of its tributaries, the high banks of which are covered with trees, till I reached a broad valley. I could scarcely believe my eyes. There arose before me a number of trees larger and taller than any I supposed existed on the face of the globe. It is called the Mammoth-tree Valley, and is 1500 feet above the level of the sea. There were no less than ninety of them scattered over a space of about forty acres, and rising high above the surrounding pine forest. They are a species of pine or cone-bearing trees. (Coniferae (Wellingtonia gigantea.)) In the larger ones the branches do not begin to spread out till the stem has reached a height of 200 feet, and some are upwards of 300 feet high. One was 32 feet in diameter—that is, 96 feet in circumference—while the smallest and weakest is not less than 16 feet in diameter. The tops of nearly all have been broken off by storms, or by the snow resting on them. The Indians have injured others by lighting fires at their bases, while the white men have cut down one and carried away the bark of another to exhibit in far-off lands. It took five men twenty-five days to cut down the ‘Big tree,’ for so it was called. They accomplished their work by boring holes in the stem, and then cutting towards them with the axe. The stump which remains has been smoothed on the top, and the owner of the property, who acted as my guide, assured me that sixteen couple could waltz on it. In one a spiral staircase has been cut, so that I was able to ascend to a considerable height by it. My acquaintance, the owner of the estate on which these monsters grow, has given names to all of them. One he calls Uncle Tom’s Cabin, because there is a hollow in the trunk capable of holding from twenty to thirty people. One hollow trunk has been broken off and lies on the ground, and a man on horseback can ride from one end of it to the other. There are two trees called Husband and Wife, and another he called the Family Group, consisting of father, mother, and rather a large progeny of twenty-five children, regular sons of Anak. The father fell some time ago, and striking another tree broke off the upper part. That portion measures 300 feet, and the part which still stands 150—so that the whole tree was 450 feet in height. Three hundred feet is the ordinary height of the giants of the forest. From various calculations it would seem that these trees must have existed for three thousand years at least—perhaps more; I can only say that I considered the spectacle well worthy of the long journey I took to behold it.”We thanked the stranger for the account he had given us. We heard many other wonderful stories, the truth of some of which we had reason to doubt, so I have not repeated them here. Captain Frankland was very glad to get away from San Francisco without losing any of his own crew. Probably, had he allowed them to have any communication with the shore, this would not have been the case.On our return on board, the first mate told the captain that a strange brig had come into the harbour and anchored near us—that soon afterward Manuel Silva was seen holding some communication with the people on board. In a little time a boat came off from her, and after some conversation with a man in the boat, he said that he must bid us good-bye. No persuasions the mate used could induce him to stop, and he stepped into the boat, and nothing more had been seen of him. We were very sorry to lose him, and it struck us at the time, I remember, that there was something mysterious in his way of departure.We were at sea about twenty-two days without falling in with land. It was late one evening when we sighted Woahoo, the largest of the Sandwich Islands, of which Honolulu is the chief port and capital of the kingdom. It was dark by the time we brought up in the roadstead outside the harbour. As I, of course, had read how Captain Cook was killed by the Sandwich Islanders, and had often seen prints in which a number of naked black fellows are hurling their spears and darts at him, I had an idea that I knew all about them, and had pictured to myself exactly what I should see when next morning we went on shore with our boat’s crew well-armed to trade with them. The next morning at daybreak the anchor was hove up, and with a light breeze we stood in through a narrow passage in a coral reef, which extends from one point of land to another, and forms the harbour. What was my surprise to see before us, when we dropped our anchor, a neat, pretty-looking town, with a fort on the right side bristling with cannon, a fertile valley extending far into the country on the left, and lofty mountains rising in the distance. Over the fort flew the Hawaian flag. It is formed of the British union-jack, with alternate blue, red, and white stripes. The streets are broad, and run at right angles to each other. There were numerous hotels, some of them really very handsome buildings on an extensive scale, and managed after the American fashion, while in the streets were a number of large and well-furnished shops. There are several churches and chapels of very respectable architectural pretensions. The Custom House is a handsome stone building near the fort, and the regulations as to duties are strictly observed. The chief place of business is in the centre of the town; and the most fashionable locality, where the residences of the leading people among the natives are situated, is a green sward skirted by the beach and shaded by lofty cocoa-nut and plantain trees. The European villas are generally further back—many of them very prettily built, and surrounded by gardens full of the most delicious fruit and flowers. Many of the foreign consuls and merchants live in villas a few miles up the country. Good wharves have been built, and ships of 700 tons can refit alongside them. Altogether Honolulu is a very wonderful place.Jerry and I and the doctor, as usual, went on shore to see what was to be seen, and this time we were accompanied by Mr Brand. The ship was to remain in the harbour for several days, and we were very anxious to make a journey to some distance into the interior, that we might see the natives as they were away from the centre of civilisation. We had introductions here to several gentlemen, who promised to forward our views. We were amused with the extraordinary appearance of the natives in the streets—barbarism and civilisation met together. The former dress of the men was the taro, a kilt joined between the legs, so as to form a wide and very short pair of breeches. Some to this now add a blue shirt, sometimes with the tails tucked in, sometimes flowing gracefully. Some wear cast-off coats, or jackets, or trousers, of Europeans; but few of the common people have more than one of these garments on at a time, and still fewer ever encumber themselves with shoes and stockings. The women had on generally long blue chemises, or gowns and bonnets of every variety of colour and shape, and put on in all sorts of ways—some placing them hind part before; indeed, they had apparently exercised their ingenuity to make them as unbecoming as possible. Formerly, we were told, their head-dress was a wreath of flowers, which suited their dark skins, and had a very pretty effect. The chiefs, however, and their wives, were dressed in European costume, and the king in public wears the Windsor uniform. It is supposed that the inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands derive their origin from the Malays, and that at a very remote period a Malay junk, or fleet of junks, was cast on those shores. Their skins have the same dark hue, and their features the same form, as the Malays of the present day. It is said that this group is becoming rapidly depopulated. The people themselves have taken up the idea that their race is to become extinct, and seem willing to yield to their fate without a struggle. The diseases introduced by Europeans have tended to cause this, but they themselves have many pernicious customs. Among others, no sooner does a native feel himself attacked with fever than he rushes into the sea, or into the nearest cold stream, as he fancies, to cool himself. The result is that—the pores being closed instead of kept open and perspiration encouraged—death comes in a few hours. Among our friends here was Mr Callard, a missionary, who had resided in the island for some years. He has gone into a hamlet, and found not a person remaining alive. On one occasion he met an old man sitting at the door of a hut; he asked where the rest of the people were.“All dead,” was the answer.“Then do you come with me, and I will provide for your wants.”“No,” said the native gloomily; “I will not move. I am preparing to follow them.”The islands produce the paper mulberry, from which their cloths and cordage are made; the acacia, used in the construction of their canoes; the banana, the sugar-cane, the yam, the bread-fruit; and, the most important of all, the taro root. Of late years, coffee, cotton, rice, tobacco, indigo, melons, the vine, oranges, peaches, figs, tamarinds, guavas, and many other plants and fruits have been introduced. The natives pay the greatest attention to the cultivation of the taro root. It is planted in square patches, either in swamps or in ground easily irrigated, with banks and sluices, so that the water can be let on at pleasure. It takes eleven months to come to perfection. When dried, it is pounded on a smooth stone by means of another held in the hand, while a little water is poured on it, when it is reduced to a paste called poi, which is then fit to eat. Much labour and patience is required to bring it to perfection; and by the exercise of these qualities, there can be no doubt that the natives have acquired those habits of industry which are scarcely known among other savages. The only animals found in the island were dogs and pigs, undoubtedly brought there by their ancestors. The roots of the taro are from six inches to a foot in length, and three or four inches in diameter. In substance it is rather more fibrous than the potato. It is often eaten whole, like a potato. The skin is scraped off with a shell, and the taro, split into two or three pieces, is then placed on leaves in an oven containing stones, heated as usual, the whole being then covered up with earth to steam for half an hour.Honolulu has become a great place of call for ships, from all parts of the world, since San Francisco sprang into existence. Vessels coming round the Horn, to make a good offing, steer for it. Others from Australia, China, and the Eastern Archipelago, touch here; while whalers have for long been in the habit of putting in here to refit and recruit. The extreme healthiness of the islands induces many people from California to come here, and the hotels and lodging-houses are filled with invalids, often possessors of considerable wealth; but, at the same time, from their profligate and dissipated habits, they set but a bad example to the natives. The natives are called Kanakas. They are generally fine-looking men. The women are fairer, and with regular features; many of them ride on horseback with men’s saddles, dressed in gay riding habits, and with a wreath of flowers encircling their raven tresses, which gives them somewhat of a theatrical appearance. The islands are governed by a sovereign, King Kamehameha the Third, who has a large family, and an income of about 1500 pounds a-year. He has likewise an army, clothed in gay uniforms, but there are almost as many officers as men; indeed, as the kingdom is under the joint protection of England, America, and France, there can be but little employment for soldiers. The police are of far more use in apprehending drunken sailors, and keeping order in the town. They are dressed in a blue uniform, with a gold-lace cap, and armed with a staff with a brass knob. The monarchy is hereditary, and limited. The king’s ministry consists of a premier and other officers, similar to those of the English Government, and many of them are English or Americans, and very intelligent men. We found that in the town there were all sorts of places of public amusement, and, among others, a theatre, where English plays are acted, and where the king constantly attends. We went, and were not a little surprised to see the boxes filled with very gaily-dressed people, mostly whites. It was a very hot night. The play was “Hamlet.” Hamlet had been using a pocket-handkerchief very liberally all the evening, pressing it to his brow and cheeks, and at last he said, “Oh, that this too, too solid fleshwouldn’tmelt, and resolve itself into a dew!” Jerry and I applauded him very loudly. He gave us a wink, as much as to say, “I see you understand me.” He was evidently a wag, and Hamlet was not suited to him, nor he to Hamlet. There was no reason, however, because the royal Dane had been murdered, that his son should murder the Queen’s English at the rate he did, or the character of Hamlet as Shakspeare drew it. Who would have thought of Shakspeare in the Sandwich Islands? Shakspeare never acted in so pretty a theatre.Many of the natives, although able to afford habitations of a European style, still live on in those used by their ancestors. They are generally of an oblong shape, with a very high-pitched roof, thatched with grass and plantain leaves; and as the eaves slant down to within a short distance from the ground, they have a very picturesque appearance. They are cool in summer, and are impervious to rain. The ceilings, which are very elegant, are composed of polished bamboo, neatly interwoven, while the floors are carpeted with mats of coloured grass. The walls are decorated with a native cloth, called tapa, which serves the purpose of tapestry. The house is divided into separate chambers at night by mats hung up on lines. The beds are primitive; a mat serves for every purpose, and a wooden roller as a pillow. Many of the Kanakas are well educated, and read and write not only their own, but several European languages likewise. There is one newspaper in the Hawaian language, if not more, and several works have been published in it, while the translation of the Bible is to be seen in every native hut. Of course, all this information I picked up from different people during our stay at Honolulu.“We have not had any fun for a long time; I wonder what will turn up next,” said Jerry to me, after we had been there a couple of days.The next morning, Mr Callard, the missionary, who was an old friend of Captain Frankland’s, came on board, and invited Jerry and me and Mr McRitchie, and Mr Brand, if he could be spared, to accompany him to the large island of Hawaii, round which he was going to make a visitation tour. Having to wait here for information on some important matters, he gave us the leave we asked.“You may take Ben Yool with you also,” said he. “The schooner is rather short-handed, and you will find him useful at all events.”Jerry and I were highly pleased with this, for Ben was a great favourite. We were soon ready with our rifles and knapsacks, not forgetting to take old Surley with us; it was a long time since the poor fellow had had a run on shore.“Take care that the natives don’t cook and eat him,” said Mr Renshaw, as we shoved off.The little mission-schooner, theDove, was in readiness to receive us, and in a few minutes, with a fair breeze, we were standing away to the southward, towards the large island of Hawaii, or Owhyhee, on the shores of which the immortal Cook lost his life.

One fine morning we found theTriton—one of a crowd of vessels of all rigs and sizes—standing in with a fair breeze towards the far-famed harbour of San Francisco. High black rocks ran out of the sea before us, like monsters guarding the entrance to that domain of boundless wealth. Loud roars, too, saluted our ears, which, on a further examination of the rocks, were found to proceed from a large congregation of sea-lions assembled at their bases. As we glided by, not fifty fathoms from some of the rocks, they looked up at us with inquiring eyes, as if to know why we had come there; and, certainly, from their formidable heads, they appeared as if they were well able to defend their native territory. Jerry could not resist the temptation of firing his rifle among them. It had a wonderful effect on the whole body; big and little sea-lions, and cows, and seals, all began floundering away in the greatest dismay into the water—their awkward-looking movements being very amusing; at the same time, thousands of birds, which had been perched on the rocks, or floating in the water, rose into the air, with loud screams, circling round our heads; while porpoises, or some other huge monsters of the deep, kept gambolling around us, and now and then leaping out of the water in sportive humour.

All this exhibition of wild animal life was, it must be remembered, within a few miles of the rich and populous city of San Francisco. The transition was very great; yet but a short time back a rude fort and a few small huts were the only settled abodes of man. The actual harbour begins at a spot called the Golden Gate, where a high rock with a flat summit projects into the water. On it the American Government are constructing a fort, which no hostile vessel will be able to pass with impunity. Passing this point, we saw before us on the right a perfect forest of masts, with every flag under the sun flying aloft; and behind them appeared, on a low hill rising like an amphitheatre from the harbour, the far-famed city itself. It was a busy, exciting scene. Some of the vessels brought bands of English adventurers; others crowds of Chinese, with round felt hats and long tails; others Malays; and some even seemed to have blacks on board. At a short distance from the city were moored several large ships, their masts struck, their rigging unrove, deserted by their crews, and some by their officers likewise. The doctor, Jerry, and I, were the only persons who accompanied the captain on shore. The mates remained to guard against all risk of any of the crew deserting. It was only just daylight when we landed, but all the world was astir. Time is considered too precious here to lose a moment. The town itself presented an extraordinary collection of strong contrasts: there were wooden sheds, and tents, and mud hovels, mixed up with vast stores and large dwelling-houses; while carts, and waggons, and coaches of every variety of build were moving about in all directions, among people from every part of Europe—Germans, Italians, French, Greeks, and English—the latter, of course, predominating as to numbers; Yankees, with their keen, intelligent looks; Californians, in their serapes; Mexicans, with their laced breeches and cuffs; and Chilians, in broad-brimmed hats; Sandwich Islanders, and Negroes from every part of Africa; Chinese, with their long tails and varied coloured robes; and Malays and other people from the East. Indeed, Europe, Asia, Africa, and America were there fully represented,—all brought together for the one object—a search for gold—all thinking of their own business, and caring little or nothing for anybody else, so that their aims were not interfered with. Those who had been to the diggings were pretty clearly to be distinguished by the one dark brown earthy hue which pervaded their dress, and such parts of their countenances as their huge tangled beards and whiskers allowed to be visible.

We first went to the market, to obtain provisions for the ship. It was already crowded with purchasers. There was a magnificent display of fruit and vegetables, and fish of all sorts and strange shapes, and huge lobsters and turtle of a size to make an alderman’s mouth water; and then in the meat-market there were hung up before the butchers’ stalls huge elks with their superb antlers, and great big brown bears—just such monsters as the one we saw captured, for they are considered dainties here—and beautiful antelopes, and squirrels, and hares, and rabbits in vast heaps—not to speak of pigs, and sheep, and oxen. The beef, we heard, was, and found to be, excellent. I mention these things to show how the inhabitants of a vast city like San Francisco, though just sprung into existence, can, by proper arrangement, be fed. A large number of the shops are kept by Chinese, who sell all the fancy and ornamental work, and act as washerwomen. They are said to be great rogues, and are, under that pretext, often cruelly treated by greater rogues than themselves. It is a sad thing to see heathen people coming among nominal Christians, who, paying no regard to the religion they are supposed to profess, prevent them from wishing to inquire into the truth of a faith they might, with a good example before them, be tempted to adopt. One Chinese appeared to us so much like another, with their thick lips, little slits of eyes, ugly parchment faces, in which age makes no perceptible difference, that it seemed as if we were meeting the same person over and over again. The signs over their shops are written in Chinese, and translated into the oddest English and Spanish I ever saw. One of the features in the street population of this city which struck us were the shoe-blacks. Each is provided with a comfortable arm-chair and a newspaper. He slips his employer into the chair, hands him the paper to read, and then kneeling down, works away till he has polished the leather boots; for which his demand is a quarter of a dollar—the smallest coin in circulation, it seemed to us. The sum is paid without a word; off walks the man with the clean boots, and one with a dirty pair soon takes his place.

There is no want of restaurants and cafés, or of places where food in abundance could be procured, though the price was rather astonishing. Captain Frankland had some business to transact with a merchant—he left us at one of them to dine. When he rejoined us, he told us that he would take us to a scene in which he hoped we should never be tempted to mix. We went out, and soon reached a magnificent building, full of spacious halls, with an orchestra keeping up a succession of attractive airs. Making our way, not without difficulty, through the crowd, we saw before us several long, green-covered tables, surrounded by people, who appeared to be engaged in playing, on a grand scale, every conceivable game of chance. Never did I see countenances so palpably expressive of the worst passions of our evil nature. The keepers of the banks were evidently villains of the darkest dye. They sat with their revolvers on the table, guarding the heaps of gold before them, as they skilfully managed the cards and dice over which they presided. The captain assured us that they and those in league with them—the professional players—always contrived to collect the largest proportion of the gold in circulation—many of their foolish victims dissipating in one evening all the hard-earned gains of a year. There were ladies, too, among them, gambling as eagerly as the men—dishonouring their sex. The sight of those countenances and the whole air of the place was sickening. “Fifty ounces”—“A hundred”—“Two hundred ounces”—were the words we heard repeated on every side. Presently a man started up—a fine, handsome young fellow—from before whom a heap of gold had been swept, clutching his hair. “And I was to have started for home to-morrow. O Mary!” he exclaimed, unconsciously, as he passed us. There was the report of a pistol—a cry. The young man was picked up dead at the door. The players went on as before, scarcely turning their heads to hear the account. Who the unhappy youth was, no one knew. We had seen enough to answer the captain’s object in taking us to the place. We strolled on through the city till we reached the Chinese quarter. There, also, we were attracted by a strange noise intended for music, produced by two stringed-fiddles, violoncellos, drums, and gongs, into a building—a very shabby place; yet in the centre was a table with heaps of gold upon it, and surrounded by a number of odd little men in wide jackets, short trousers, long tails at their backs, huge embroidered slippers on their feet, all deeply engaged, as if some most serious matter were going forward—their queer eyes twinkling with mistrust as they followed the course of a game which was being played. In the middle of the table was a heap of counters covered by a bowl, under which the players put their hands, and drew out a number of them at a time, which they counted with a long stick, and then the heaps of money changed owners, but on what grounds we could in no way discover.

“You laugh at those odd little Chinese, and think them fail objects to joke about,” observed the captain; “but we must remember that they are men with souls to be saved, responsible beings, like the unhappy people in that gorgeous saloon we were in just now. The vice in which we have seen them indulging is the same, though, as their light is less, they may be less to blame. My hope is, that what you have seen to-night will make you wish never to see the same sights again.”

In the public room of the hotel, where we remained for the night, a number of people were collected from all parts of the world. Some had been at the diggings; some had made money; several had come back as poor as they went, and much the worse in health; others were about to go up to try their fortunes, with secret hopes of succeeding where others had failed. The conversation of many of them was very amusing. One man especially interested us by the account he gave of his first journey up the country. He was evidently, from the tone of his voice and manners, a gentleman by education, though in appearance as rough and weather-beaten as a navvy who has put on a black coat for Sunday. He addressed himself to us, as he probably thought that we had come out to turn gold-diggers, and he wished to warn us of the dangers to be encountered.

“I had a good appointment in England, but I wanted to become rich in a hurry, so I threw it up, and came out here,” he began. “You may doubt the wisdom of the proceeding; so do I now. I had a companion, and with him and the mate of the ship I arrived in, as also her carpenter and a Chinese boy, I arranged to go up the country. With the implements we had provided, and as much food as we could carry, we got on board a small schooner, bound up the river to Stockton. We had on board a strange assemblage of people. Many of them looked quite capable of cutting our throats. They were mostly armed, and bowie-knives and revolvers were constantly exhibited. When after two days’ voyage we landed, we were glad to get into a wretched hut, where we could obtain food, and rest, and shelter, to prepare ourselves for our tramp to the diggings. We remained only one day, for the charges were so high at the inn that we should have been ruined had we stayed longer. Of the forty people who had come up in the schooner, very few accompanied us. We found a party of about thirty starting, with five or six mules carrying provisions. We joined ourselves to them. Each of us had a rifle slung to his back, in addition to a week’s provisions and our mining utensils, while our pistols and knives were stuck in our belts. We went on for two days pretty easily. I shall never forget the appearance of some people we met, who had come overland from the western states of America,—their haggard eyes, long matted hair, shrunk forms, and tattered clothes, which hung on them like loose rags fluttering in the wind. They were the remnants of a large party, the greater number of whom with their horses and cattle had died on the way, from the hardships they had to encounter. The latter part of the road, they said, was strewed with the whitening bones of men and animals, broken-down waggons, and abandoned furniture. The next day’s journey gave us a specimen of what those poor fellows had endured. The sun came out with intense fury, and struck scorching down on our heads. Not a drop of water could be got. There was a pool, we were told, some way on. We reached the spot: it was dry. Our thirst grew intolerable. Those who had been accustomed to take spirits suffered more than the rest. We lay down that night at a place where there was no wood. We had no fire, therefore, to cook our provisions. We could not eat the meat we had brought with us raw. All night long the wolves howled horribly in our ears. At daybreak we arose and pushed on. There was a water-hole, we were told, a few miles ahead. We reached the spot: it was dry. Many who had hitherto held out gave way to despair. The muleteers had skins with water, but they guarded them, revolver in hand, to moisten their own and their mules’ lips. Their lives depended on those of their animals. A few of us had flasks, but we could only venture to take a drop of the precious fluid at a time. One man had a bottle of brandy. He boasted at first of his cleverness in having secured it. Now, he went about offering the whole of it for a drop of water. Several of the brandy drinkers sank down. They had agreed to keep together. They implored us to help them. A deaf ear was turned to their entreaties. Our own lives depended on our hastening on. Three or four others dropped by the way, one by one. No one waited for them. ‘On, on, on!’ was the cry; ‘Water, water, water!’ At length, towards evening, the mules pricked up their ears: trees appeared in the distance. We hurried on. A glittering stream gladdened our sight. We rushed into it, greedily lapping up the water. Our mules drank eagerly. We felt revived and strengthened. There was abundance of wood: we lighted a fire and dressed our provisions. Several birds, and two or three animals were shot to increase our feast.

“Ha, ha, ha, how we laughed. To-morrow, we said, we shall be able to push on to the mines, and begin to dig for gold. In an instant every one was talking of gold. ‘Gold, gold, gold,’ was heard on every side. Did any one think of the poor wretches we had left dying on the road—men—brethren by nature, by a common faith—men with souls? Not one of us thought of going back. At all events, not one of us offered to go back. An all-powerful loadstone was dragging us on—the lust of getting gold. Had we gone back to relieve our fellow-beings, we should have been unable to proceed the next day for the diggings. A whole day would have been lost. Oh, most foul and wretched was the mania which inspired us! Unnatural! no; it was that of fallen, debased human nature; it was too true to that nature. Those miserable men must have died horribly—devoured by wolves or scalped by Indians. The next day we pushed eagerly on; yet we had to sleep high up on the side of a snow-capped mountain; thence we were to descend to the scene of our labours. Bitterly cold it was; yet we dared not move, for frightful precipices yawned around. We reached the first diggings that evening. The miners had just knocked off work, and crowded round us to hear the news, and to see what we had brought. Rough as they looked, by far the greater number, I judged by the tone of their voices, belong to the educated classes. And shall I become like one of these men? I thought. I soon became like one of them, and rougher still. ‘I expected a friend about this time,’ said one, describing him. He was among those who had fallen and been deserted. He made but few other inquiries. He knew that such events were too common to complain. I saw him brush away a tear, as he turned from us. That man was too good for the company he was among. We encamped by ourselves, we knew not whom we must trust. After this our travelling party broke up. My companions from the ship and I were to work together. We fixed on a spot, and erected our rude hut; then we bought a rocker and shovel, pick-axe and spade, with two tin pans, and set to work. I dug out the earth, another carried it, and a third washed it in the rocker. Our success was tolerable; but it was many days before we got enough to pay for the articles we had purchased, and our provisions. In the meantime, what scenes of wretchedness, misery, dissipation, and violence, did I behold! In every direction men were dying of fever and dysentery. At night the gambling booths were filled with those who rapidly got rid of the earnings of many days. I was witness, too, of an encounter between two large parties of diggers. One party had encroached on the ground prepared by the other, and refused to quit it. Bowie-knives, and pick-axes, and hatchets, rifles and pistols, were instantly brought into play. A sanguinary encounter ensued. Numbers fell on both sides; at last one party turned and fled. I visited the scene of the strife soon after. A dozen or more human beings lay on the ground dead, or dying—arms cut off—pierced through and through with knives—skulls fractured with spades and pick-axes, and many shot to death. The dying had been left to die alone without aid or pity, while their companions returned to their gold digging. Often and often I sickened at the sights I beheld, but still I continued at the work. I was compelled to continue at it. I had given up everything for it. I was like a slave chained to it by the leg. Gladly would I have gone back to my steady occupation and quiet life, surrounded by those I respected and loved. I have only partly described the hardships we endured. We had famine, and cold, and rain. Often we were without fuel, our clothing was ragged and insufficient, and sickness in every form came among us. Besides desperate quarrels among the diggers, the Indians came down upon us—fierce, sanguinary warriors, eager for our scalps. Their vengeance had been excited by aggressions made on them by the whites. We could scarcely leave the camp without risking an attack from them. Many diggers became their victims. Such was our life for months. At length my companions and I, by unexpected good fortune, saved a sufficient amount of gold dust to enable us to return to San Francisco. Steady work at home would have enabled me to lay by nearly as much, while my health and spirits would not have been broken as they now are. We kept together to defend each other. Many diggers on their way to the city, after labouring for years, have been robbed and murdered. My companions spent most of their hard won wealth, and returned to the diggings, where, one after the other, they fell victims to disease, or the knives of assassins. I had had enough of the life, and my knowledge of business enabled me to procure a situation in a merchant’s office in this place, where, by employing the sum I had scraped together, and by stript attention to business, I have realised an amount four times as large, in a quarter of the time it took me to collect it at the diggings.”

“What you have said, sir, is very true,” observed another gentleman present. “Things, however, have somewhat mended of late. Still, a gentleman has to lead little better than a dog’s life in those regions. For my part, although I was what is considered very lucky, I soon sickened of it, and considered myself fortunate in being able to get away with my gold in my pocket and a whole skin on my back. Still this is a wonderful country, and will become a great country some day. I have travelled over a good deal of it. Not long ago I travelled up one of the most beautiful valleys in the world. At the bottom was a green grassy sward with a pure bright stream running rapidly through it, over a clear, pebbly bottom. The hills on either side were clothed with trees of various descriptions, rocks here and there jutting out between them of many fantastic forms, while my ears were assailed with the cheerful sound of falling water, and my eyes gladdened by the sight of sparkling cascades flowing into basins, whence arose masses of white foam. Further on arose, appearing at the end of the valley, range beyond range of mountains, the higher capped with snow. Though the sun was hot, the air was pure and cool as it came off the mountains, tempered by the numerous cascades. At length I reached a spot where the valley widened, and there, spread out before me, lay a blue shining lake fringed by lofty trees, with the hills rising gradually behind them, while the water seemed alive with fish, which leaped from its calm depths, and with the water-fowl which skimmed over its surface. You’ll all say that was a lovely spot.”

We all agreed that it must be, and that we should like to take up our abode there.

“So I thought,” he answered. “But as a man cannot well live on fish and water-fowl without corn, and potatoes, and vegetables, not to speak of beef and mutton, and none of these things were to be procured within a hundred miles of the place, I was glad to get out of it. There’s another wonderful spot away to the south, near Sousa, where I have been. There is a stream called the Stanislas river. Up it I went, and then journeyed along one of its tributaries, the high banks of which are covered with trees, till I reached a broad valley. I could scarcely believe my eyes. There arose before me a number of trees larger and taller than any I supposed existed on the face of the globe. It is called the Mammoth-tree Valley, and is 1500 feet above the level of the sea. There were no less than ninety of them scattered over a space of about forty acres, and rising high above the surrounding pine forest. They are a species of pine or cone-bearing trees. (Coniferae (Wellingtonia gigantea.)) In the larger ones the branches do not begin to spread out till the stem has reached a height of 200 feet, and some are upwards of 300 feet high. One was 32 feet in diameter—that is, 96 feet in circumference—while the smallest and weakest is not less than 16 feet in diameter. The tops of nearly all have been broken off by storms, or by the snow resting on them. The Indians have injured others by lighting fires at their bases, while the white men have cut down one and carried away the bark of another to exhibit in far-off lands. It took five men twenty-five days to cut down the ‘Big tree,’ for so it was called. They accomplished their work by boring holes in the stem, and then cutting towards them with the axe. The stump which remains has been smoothed on the top, and the owner of the property, who acted as my guide, assured me that sixteen couple could waltz on it. In one a spiral staircase has been cut, so that I was able to ascend to a considerable height by it. My acquaintance, the owner of the estate on which these monsters grow, has given names to all of them. One he calls Uncle Tom’s Cabin, because there is a hollow in the trunk capable of holding from twenty to thirty people. One hollow trunk has been broken off and lies on the ground, and a man on horseback can ride from one end of it to the other. There are two trees called Husband and Wife, and another he called the Family Group, consisting of father, mother, and rather a large progeny of twenty-five children, regular sons of Anak. The father fell some time ago, and striking another tree broke off the upper part. That portion measures 300 feet, and the part which still stands 150—so that the whole tree was 450 feet in height. Three hundred feet is the ordinary height of the giants of the forest. From various calculations it would seem that these trees must have existed for three thousand years at least—perhaps more; I can only say that I considered the spectacle well worthy of the long journey I took to behold it.”

We thanked the stranger for the account he had given us. We heard many other wonderful stories, the truth of some of which we had reason to doubt, so I have not repeated them here. Captain Frankland was very glad to get away from San Francisco without losing any of his own crew. Probably, had he allowed them to have any communication with the shore, this would not have been the case.

On our return on board, the first mate told the captain that a strange brig had come into the harbour and anchored near us—that soon afterward Manuel Silva was seen holding some communication with the people on board. In a little time a boat came off from her, and after some conversation with a man in the boat, he said that he must bid us good-bye. No persuasions the mate used could induce him to stop, and he stepped into the boat, and nothing more had been seen of him. We were very sorry to lose him, and it struck us at the time, I remember, that there was something mysterious in his way of departure.

We were at sea about twenty-two days without falling in with land. It was late one evening when we sighted Woahoo, the largest of the Sandwich Islands, of which Honolulu is the chief port and capital of the kingdom. It was dark by the time we brought up in the roadstead outside the harbour. As I, of course, had read how Captain Cook was killed by the Sandwich Islanders, and had often seen prints in which a number of naked black fellows are hurling their spears and darts at him, I had an idea that I knew all about them, and had pictured to myself exactly what I should see when next morning we went on shore with our boat’s crew well-armed to trade with them. The next morning at daybreak the anchor was hove up, and with a light breeze we stood in through a narrow passage in a coral reef, which extends from one point of land to another, and forms the harbour. What was my surprise to see before us, when we dropped our anchor, a neat, pretty-looking town, with a fort on the right side bristling with cannon, a fertile valley extending far into the country on the left, and lofty mountains rising in the distance. Over the fort flew the Hawaian flag. It is formed of the British union-jack, with alternate blue, red, and white stripes. The streets are broad, and run at right angles to each other. There were numerous hotels, some of them really very handsome buildings on an extensive scale, and managed after the American fashion, while in the streets were a number of large and well-furnished shops. There are several churches and chapels of very respectable architectural pretensions. The Custom House is a handsome stone building near the fort, and the regulations as to duties are strictly observed. The chief place of business is in the centre of the town; and the most fashionable locality, where the residences of the leading people among the natives are situated, is a green sward skirted by the beach and shaded by lofty cocoa-nut and plantain trees. The European villas are generally further back—many of them very prettily built, and surrounded by gardens full of the most delicious fruit and flowers. Many of the foreign consuls and merchants live in villas a few miles up the country. Good wharves have been built, and ships of 700 tons can refit alongside them. Altogether Honolulu is a very wonderful place.

Jerry and I and the doctor, as usual, went on shore to see what was to be seen, and this time we were accompanied by Mr Brand. The ship was to remain in the harbour for several days, and we were very anxious to make a journey to some distance into the interior, that we might see the natives as they were away from the centre of civilisation. We had introductions here to several gentlemen, who promised to forward our views. We were amused with the extraordinary appearance of the natives in the streets—barbarism and civilisation met together. The former dress of the men was the taro, a kilt joined between the legs, so as to form a wide and very short pair of breeches. Some to this now add a blue shirt, sometimes with the tails tucked in, sometimes flowing gracefully. Some wear cast-off coats, or jackets, or trousers, of Europeans; but few of the common people have more than one of these garments on at a time, and still fewer ever encumber themselves with shoes and stockings. The women had on generally long blue chemises, or gowns and bonnets of every variety of colour and shape, and put on in all sorts of ways—some placing them hind part before; indeed, they had apparently exercised their ingenuity to make them as unbecoming as possible. Formerly, we were told, their head-dress was a wreath of flowers, which suited their dark skins, and had a very pretty effect. The chiefs, however, and their wives, were dressed in European costume, and the king in public wears the Windsor uniform. It is supposed that the inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands derive their origin from the Malays, and that at a very remote period a Malay junk, or fleet of junks, was cast on those shores. Their skins have the same dark hue, and their features the same form, as the Malays of the present day. It is said that this group is becoming rapidly depopulated. The people themselves have taken up the idea that their race is to become extinct, and seem willing to yield to their fate without a struggle. The diseases introduced by Europeans have tended to cause this, but they themselves have many pernicious customs. Among others, no sooner does a native feel himself attacked with fever than he rushes into the sea, or into the nearest cold stream, as he fancies, to cool himself. The result is that—the pores being closed instead of kept open and perspiration encouraged—death comes in a few hours. Among our friends here was Mr Callard, a missionary, who had resided in the island for some years. He has gone into a hamlet, and found not a person remaining alive. On one occasion he met an old man sitting at the door of a hut; he asked where the rest of the people were.

“All dead,” was the answer.

“Then do you come with me, and I will provide for your wants.”

“No,” said the native gloomily; “I will not move. I am preparing to follow them.”

The islands produce the paper mulberry, from which their cloths and cordage are made; the acacia, used in the construction of their canoes; the banana, the sugar-cane, the yam, the bread-fruit; and, the most important of all, the taro root. Of late years, coffee, cotton, rice, tobacco, indigo, melons, the vine, oranges, peaches, figs, tamarinds, guavas, and many other plants and fruits have been introduced. The natives pay the greatest attention to the cultivation of the taro root. It is planted in square patches, either in swamps or in ground easily irrigated, with banks and sluices, so that the water can be let on at pleasure. It takes eleven months to come to perfection. When dried, it is pounded on a smooth stone by means of another held in the hand, while a little water is poured on it, when it is reduced to a paste called poi, which is then fit to eat. Much labour and patience is required to bring it to perfection; and by the exercise of these qualities, there can be no doubt that the natives have acquired those habits of industry which are scarcely known among other savages. The only animals found in the island were dogs and pigs, undoubtedly brought there by their ancestors. The roots of the taro are from six inches to a foot in length, and three or four inches in diameter. In substance it is rather more fibrous than the potato. It is often eaten whole, like a potato. The skin is scraped off with a shell, and the taro, split into two or three pieces, is then placed on leaves in an oven containing stones, heated as usual, the whole being then covered up with earth to steam for half an hour.

Honolulu has become a great place of call for ships, from all parts of the world, since San Francisco sprang into existence. Vessels coming round the Horn, to make a good offing, steer for it. Others from Australia, China, and the Eastern Archipelago, touch here; while whalers have for long been in the habit of putting in here to refit and recruit. The extreme healthiness of the islands induces many people from California to come here, and the hotels and lodging-houses are filled with invalids, often possessors of considerable wealth; but, at the same time, from their profligate and dissipated habits, they set but a bad example to the natives. The natives are called Kanakas. They are generally fine-looking men. The women are fairer, and with regular features; many of them ride on horseback with men’s saddles, dressed in gay riding habits, and with a wreath of flowers encircling their raven tresses, which gives them somewhat of a theatrical appearance. The islands are governed by a sovereign, King Kamehameha the Third, who has a large family, and an income of about 1500 pounds a-year. He has likewise an army, clothed in gay uniforms, but there are almost as many officers as men; indeed, as the kingdom is under the joint protection of England, America, and France, there can be but little employment for soldiers. The police are of far more use in apprehending drunken sailors, and keeping order in the town. They are dressed in a blue uniform, with a gold-lace cap, and armed with a staff with a brass knob. The monarchy is hereditary, and limited. The king’s ministry consists of a premier and other officers, similar to those of the English Government, and many of them are English or Americans, and very intelligent men. We found that in the town there were all sorts of places of public amusement, and, among others, a theatre, where English plays are acted, and where the king constantly attends. We went, and were not a little surprised to see the boxes filled with very gaily-dressed people, mostly whites. It was a very hot night. The play was “Hamlet.” Hamlet had been using a pocket-handkerchief very liberally all the evening, pressing it to his brow and cheeks, and at last he said, “Oh, that this too, too solid fleshwouldn’tmelt, and resolve itself into a dew!” Jerry and I applauded him very loudly. He gave us a wink, as much as to say, “I see you understand me.” He was evidently a wag, and Hamlet was not suited to him, nor he to Hamlet. There was no reason, however, because the royal Dane had been murdered, that his son should murder the Queen’s English at the rate he did, or the character of Hamlet as Shakspeare drew it. Who would have thought of Shakspeare in the Sandwich Islands? Shakspeare never acted in so pretty a theatre.

Many of the natives, although able to afford habitations of a European style, still live on in those used by their ancestors. They are generally of an oblong shape, with a very high-pitched roof, thatched with grass and plantain leaves; and as the eaves slant down to within a short distance from the ground, they have a very picturesque appearance. They are cool in summer, and are impervious to rain. The ceilings, which are very elegant, are composed of polished bamboo, neatly interwoven, while the floors are carpeted with mats of coloured grass. The walls are decorated with a native cloth, called tapa, which serves the purpose of tapestry. The house is divided into separate chambers at night by mats hung up on lines. The beds are primitive; a mat serves for every purpose, and a wooden roller as a pillow. Many of the Kanakas are well educated, and read and write not only their own, but several European languages likewise. There is one newspaper in the Hawaian language, if not more, and several works have been published in it, while the translation of the Bible is to be seen in every native hut. Of course, all this information I picked up from different people during our stay at Honolulu.

“We have not had any fun for a long time; I wonder what will turn up next,” said Jerry to me, after we had been there a couple of days.

The next morning, Mr Callard, the missionary, who was an old friend of Captain Frankland’s, came on board, and invited Jerry and me and Mr McRitchie, and Mr Brand, if he could be spared, to accompany him to the large island of Hawaii, round which he was going to make a visitation tour. Having to wait here for information on some important matters, he gave us the leave we asked.

“You may take Ben Yool with you also,” said he. “The schooner is rather short-handed, and you will find him useful at all events.”

Jerry and I were highly pleased with this, for Ben was a great favourite. We were soon ready with our rifles and knapsacks, not forgetting to take old Surley with us; it was a long time since the poor fellow had had a run on shore.

“Take care that the natives don’t cook and eat him,” said Mr Renshaw, as we shoved off.

The little mission-schooner, theDove, was in readiness to receive us, and in a few minutes, with a fair breeze, we were standing away to the southward, towards the large island of Hawaii, or Owhyhee, on the shores of which the immortal Cook lost his life.

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