passengers bound to the Bay, and I concluded, as they were all captains of vessels, we should have a very pleasant time. There was Captain Hill, the master, Captain Pratt, the mate, and Captain Baker, Captain Weldon, Captain Swain, Captain Eussell, and myself for passengers. I believe, with the exception of myself and the cook, who was called Doctor, every one on board the brig had held some office. I was the only one addressed as Mister, and, as Captain Baker remarked, it was quite refreshing to have one person on board without a title.
We left the harbor of San Francisco about noon on the 20th of November, and the old brig being very light, we were tumbled about in a lively manner while crossing the bar, where there was a tremendous swell running in from the southwest. However, we suffered no damage, and soon found ourselves on our course with a fair wind. We continued on in this manner for three days, without any thing occurring of interest, and the monotony of the scene only broken by the stories of the company of captains, who, sailor-like, never let slip an opportunity of relating a jest or an anecdote. On the fourth day, being in the latitude of the Columbia River, the wind came out ahead, and blew with violence from the northwest. This soon raised a heavy sea, and the brig could make but little progress. On the evening of the 24th, while standing by the cabin table with the captain, looking over the chart, we shipped a sea which stove in the window of the cabin (which looked out on deck), knocked me clear over the table, drenched the captain, put out the lights, and set the whole cabin afloat.
The other passengers had turned into their berths, where they lay telling stories, and they were most intensely delighted with the adventure. The steward soon came, who lighted the lamp, swabbed up the floor, and set us to rights. The next morning we found ourselves
