we anchored in. I took a look at the shore and made up my mind that if I
ever got my feet on dry land they would stay there.

CHAPTER III

A SAILOR ASHORE

The water casks were hoisted up from the hold, lowered overboard and
towed ashore, to be filled with fresh water. In about a week's time we
finished that job, then all hands were to have twenty-four hours'
liberty on shore--eight men at a time. My name was one of the first to
be called. We received two dollars cash for spending money. Taking my
chum aside, I quietly bid him good-bye, and then got into the boat.
Everything was strange to me on shore--the customs, language, and
sights. I got acquainted with a young American from another ship, by the
name of Amos, and learned that he also was desirous to quit the oil
business. During the day we kept with the other sailors, visiting the
dance-houses. When evening came we both struck out for the woods.

The natives were very kind to us, knowing that we were runaway sailors.
They would invite us to sleep in their houses during the nights, when
they would teach us to talk Spanish. It must have been very amusing to
them, as they were continually laughing and saying "Bueno" (good). In
the daytime we would go down to the beach to see whether our ships had
left harbour yet. In about three weeks' time we had the pleasure of
seeing both vessels standing out to sea. It was the last time that I saw
the Courier on that coast. Her old ribs now lie in the sands at the
mouth of Charleston Harbour, South Carolina. During the war the
Government purchased a number of condemned whalers and fitted them up
for sea, when they were loaded with stone and taken to Charleston
Harbour, dismantled, and sunk in the channels, in order to blockade the
harbour more effectually. The whole world made a fuss about it. That
blockading experiment was a dismal failure, as it was only a short time
until the waters of the Ashley and Cooper rivers, combined with the
ocean currents, washed out much deeper and better channels. I saw the
ship just before she was sunk and bade the old Courier a last farewell.

A few days after our ships had left San Carlos we walked into town,
interviewed the captain of the port, and asked for our discharge, saying
that our ships had gone to sea and abandoned us in a foreign port. Well,
we got our papers all right. We needed them at that time, as nobody
could go from one town to another without having documents to sho