y temperate. Finally, he had me live with his own
family, and treated me as if I were one of his own sons. They used to
laugh and make fun of me because I washed my hands and face twice a day.
In that part of the country they never wash themselves at all: "Se
maltrata el cuero" (it ill-treats the skin) was their reason, I presume;
laziness also. About that time I wrote to my father and mother in New
York. The postage then on a foreign letter was fifty cents, with only
one mail a month on that coast. In about four months I received an
answer from San Francisco, Cal. My father had failed in business in New
York, indorsing notes, and a panic ruined him. He was doing well in
California, and wanted me to come there. Don Fernando had a contract for
a large number of railroad-ties for Peru. The natives would cut and pile
them on the beach ready for loading. A schooner was sent up from Don
Carlos for a cargo of them. The captain was an Englishman, and we became
quite friendly. He offered to take me to San Carlos whenever I wished
to go. By the time the schooner was loaded I got homesick, and, all at
once, I made up my mind to go home, so I bid Don Fernando good-bye. He
was sorry to have me leave, but would not coax me to remain away from my
parents.

CHAPTER IV

I TAKE TO THE SEA AGAIN

At San Carlos was a large ship receiving the ties as they were brought
from the different islands. The captain shipped me as an ordinary seaman
at ten dollars a month. The vessel was the Androkolis, of Copenhagen,
Denmark. Our destination was Callao, Peru. I never reached San
Francisco, although I sailed eighteen hundred miles towards that city.
San Carlos was 42 deg. and Callao 12 deg. south latitude. The crew of the
Androkolis was composed of Danes, Swedes, Norwegians, two Hollanders,
and one Englishman, every one of them speaking a different language from
mine, except the man from Liverpool, Jimmy Kincaid by name. Now Jimmy
and I became chums. He was very short and broad, and possessed unusually
large hands and feet. He was about twenty years old. We little knew
what hardships were in store for us when we became friends. If he is
alive to-day, he remembers, beyond all doubt, the night we saw the
Flying Dutchman while rounding Cape Horn on another vessel.[B] We both
saw that vessel--of course it was only an illusion--but we were both
badly scared for a few minutes, as certain death appeared imminent. I
will explain it in time. There