Day after day we went up the hill, but no ship was to be seen, and we began to form all sorts of conjectures as to her whereabouts; and the theme of every evening’s conversation at the different houses, and in our afternoon’s paseo upon the beach, was the ship,—­ where she could be, had she been to San Francisco, how many hides she would bring, &c., &c.

Tuesday, August 25th.  This morning the officer in charge of our house went off beyond the point a-fishing, in a small canoe, with two Kanakas; and we were sitting quietly in our room at the hide-house, when, just before noon, we heard a complete yell of ``Sail ho!’’ breaking out from all parts of the beach at once,—­ from the Kanakas’ oven to the Rosa’s hide-house.  In an instant every one was out of his house, and there was a tall, gallant ship, with royals and skysails set, bending over before the strong afternoon breeze, and coming rapidly round the point.  Her yards were braced sharp up; every sail was set, and drew well; the stars and stripes were flying from her mizzen-peak, and, having the tide in her favor, she came up like a race-horse.  It was nearly six months since a new vessel had entered San Diego, and, of course, every one was wide awake.  She certainly made a fine appearance.  Her light sails were taken in, as she passed the low, sandy tongue of land, and clewing up her head sails, she rounded handsomely to under her mizzen topsail, and let go her anchor at about a cable’s length from the shore.  In a few minutes the topsail yards were manned, and all three of the topsails furled at once.  From the fore top-gallant yard, the men slid down the stay to furl the jib, and from the mizzen top-gallant yard, by the stay, into the main-top, and thence to the yard; and the men on the topsail yards came down the lifts to the yard-arms of the courses.  The sails were furled with great care, the bunts triced up by jiggers, and the jibs stowed in cloth.  The royal-yards were then struck, tackles got upon the yard-arms and the stay, the long-boat hoisted out, a large anchor carried astern, and the ship moored.  This was the Alert.

The gig was lowered away from the quarter, and a boat’s crew of fine lads, between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, pulled the captain ashore.  The gig was a light whale-boat, handsomely painted, and fitted up with cushions and tiller-ropes in the stern sheets.  We immediately attacked the boat’s crew, and got very thick with them in a few minutes.  We had much to ask about Boston, their passage out, &c., and they were very curious to know about the kind of life we were leading upon the beach.  One of them offered to exchange with me, which was just what I wanted, and we had only to get the permission of the captain.