and, setting both the topsails, he carried us down, and brought us to anchor, in handsome style, directly abreast of the hide-house which we were to use.  Having done this, he took his leave, while we furled the sails, and got our breakfast, which was welcome to us, for we had worked hard, and eaten nothing since yesterday afternoon, and it was nearly twelve o’clock.  After breakfast, and until night, we were employed in getting out the boats and mooring ship.

After supper, two of us took the captain on board the Lagoda.  As he came alongside, he gave his name, and the mate, in the gangway, called out to Captain Bradshaw, down the companion-way, ``Captain Thompson has come aboard, sir!’’ ``Has he brought his brig with him?’’ asked the rough old fellow, in a tone which made itself heard fore and aft.  This mortified our captain not a little, and it became a standing joke among us, and, indeed, over the coast, for the rest of the voyage.  The captain went down into the cabin, and we walked forward and put our heads down the forecastle, where we found the men at supper. ``Come down, shipmates![2] come down!’’ said they, as soon as they saw us; and we went down, and found a large, high forecastle, well lighted, and a crew of twelve or fourteen men eating out of their kids and pans, and drinking their tea, and talking and laughing, all as independent and easy as so many ``woodsawyer’s clerks.’’ This looked like comfort and enjoyment, compared with the dark little forecastle, and scanty, discontented crew of the brig.  It was Saturday night; they had got through their work for the week, and, being snugly moored, had nothing to do until Monday again.  After two years’ hard service, they had seen the worst, and all, of California; had got their cargo nearly stowed, and expected to sail, in a week or two, for Boston.

We spent an hour or more with them, talking over California matters, until the word was passed,—­ ``Pilgrims, away!’’ and we went back to our brig.  The Lagodas were a hardy, intelligent set, a little roughened, and their clothes patched and old, from California wear; all able seamen, and between the ages of twenty and thirty-five or forty.  They inquired about our vessel, the usage on board, &c., and were not a little surprised at the story of the flogging.  They said there were often difficulties in vessels on the coast, and sometimes knock-downs and fightings, but they had never heard before of a regular seizing-up and flogging. ``Spread eagles’’ were a new kind of bird in California.

Sunday, they said, was always given in San Diego, both at the hide-houses and on board the vessels, a large number usually going up to the town, on liberty.  We learned a good deal from them about the curing and stowing of hides, &c., and they were desirous to have the latest news (seven months old) from Boston.  One of their first inquiries was for Father Taylor, the seamen’s preacher in Boston.  Then followed the usual strain of conversation, inquiries, stories, and jokes, which one must always hear in a ship’s forecastle, but which are, perhaps, after all, no worse, though more gross and coarse, than those one may chance to hear from some well dressed gentlemen around their tables.