He was going aloft to fit a strap round the main-topmast head for ringtail halyards, and had the strap and block, a coil of halyards, and a marlin spike about his neck.  He fell, and not knowing how to swim, and being heavily dressed, with all those things around his neck, he probably sank immediately.  We pulled astern in the direction in which he fell, and though we knew that there was no hope of saving him, yet no one wished to speak of returning, and we rowed about for nearly an hour, unwilling to acknowledge to ourselves that we must give him up.

Death is at all times solemn, but never so much so as at sea; and the effect of it remains upon the crew for some time.  There is more kindness shown by the officers, and by the crew to one another.  The lost man is seldom mentioned, or is dismissed with a sailor’s rude eulogy, “Well, poor George is gone!  His cruise is up soon.  He knew his work, and did his duty, and was a good shipmate.”  We had hardly returned on board with our sad report before an auction was held of the POOR man’s clothes.

II.—­At the Ends of the Earth

On Tuesday, November 25, we reached the Island of Juan Fernandez.  We were then probably seventy miles from it; and so high did it appear that I took it for a cloud, until it gradually turned to a greener and deader colour.  By the afternoon the island lay fairly before us, and we directed our course to the only harbour.  Never shall I forget the sensation which I experienced on finding myself once more surrounded by land as I stood my watch at about three the following morning, feeling the breeze coming off shore and hearing the frogs and crickets.  To my joy I was among the number ordered ashore to fill the water-casks.  By the morning of the 27th we were again upon the wide Pacific, and we saw neither land nor sail again until, on January 13, 1835, we reached Point Conception, on the coast of California.  We had sailed well to the westward, to have the full advantage of the north-east trades, and so had now to sail southward to reach the port of Santa Barbara, where we arrived on the 14th, after a voyage of 150 days from Boston.

At Santa Barbara we came into touch with other vessels engaged in loading hides and tallow, and as this was the work in which we were soon to be engaged, we looked on with some curiosity, especially at the labours of the crew of the Ayacucho, who were dusky Sandwich Islanders.  And besides practice in landing on this difficult coast, we experienced the difficulties involved in having suddenly to slip our cables and then, when the weather allowed of it, coming to at our former moorings.  From this time until May 8, 1836, I was engaged in trading and loading, drying and storing hides, between Santa Barbara, Monterey, San Pedro, San Diego, San Juan, and San Francisco.