We had hardly got the boats beached, and their heads pointed out to sea, before our old friend, Bill Jackson, the handsome English sailor, who steered the Loriotte’s boat, called out that his brig was adrift; and, sure enough, she was dragging her anchors, and drifting down into the bight of the bay.  Without waiting for the captain (for there was no one on board the brig but the mate and steward), he sprung into the boat, called the Kanakas together, and tried to put off.  But the Kanakas, though capital water-dogs, were frightened by their vessel’s being adrift, and by the emergency of the case, and seemed to lose their faculties.  Twice their boat filled, and came broadside upon the beach.  Jackson swore at them for a parcel of savages, and promised to flog every one of them.  This made the matter no better; when we came forward, told the Kanakas to take their seats in the boat, and, going two on each side, walked out with her till it was up to our shoulders, and gave them a shove, when, giving way with their oars, they got her safely into the long, regular swell.  In the mean time, boats had put off to the Loriotte from our ship and the whaler, and, coming all on board the brig together, they let go the other anchor, paid out chain, braced the yards to the wind, and brought the vessel up.

In a few minutes, the captains came hurrying down, on the run; and there was no time to be lost, for the gale promised to be a severe one, and the surf was breaking upon the beach, three deep, higher and higher every instant.  The Ayacucho’s boat, pulled by four Kanakas, put off first, and as they had no rudder or steering-oar, would probably never have got off, had we not waded out with them as far as the surf would permit.  The next that made the attempt was the whale-boat, for we, being the most experienced ``beach-combers,’’ needed no help, and stayed till the last.  Whalemen make the best boats’ crews in the world for a long pull, but this landing was new to them, and, notwithstanding the examples they had had, they slewed round and were hove up—­ boat, oars, and men—­ all together, high and dry upon the sand.  The second time they filled, and had to turn their boat over, and set her off again.  We could be of no help to them, for they were so many as to be in one another’s way, without the addition of our numbers.  The third time they got off, though not without shipping a sea which drenched them all, and half filled their boat, keeping them baling until they reached their ship.  We now got ready to go off, putting the boat’s head out; English Ben and I, who were the largest, standing on each side of the bows to keep her head out to the sea, two more shipping and manning the two after oars, and the captain taking the steering oar.  Two or three Mexicans, who stood upon the beach looking at us, wrapped their cloaks about them, shook their heads, and muttered ``Caramba!’’ They had no taste for such doings; in fact, the hydrophobia is a national malady, and shows itself in their persons as well as their actions.