or the
Portsmouth, I, with one servant, left Monterey for San Francisco,
knowing that for one month no Californian forces had been within 100
miles of us. That night I put up at the house of Don Joaquin Gomez,
sending my servant to San Juan, six miles beyond, to request Mr. J.
Thompson to wait for me, as he was on the road for San Francisco. About
midnight I was aroused from my bed by the noise made by ten
Californians (unshaved and unwashed for months, being in the mountains)
rushing into my chamber with guns, swords, pistols, and torches in
their hands. I needed but a moment to be fully awake and know my exact
situation; the first cry was, 'Como estamos, Senor Consul.' 'Vamos,
Senor Larkin.' At my bedside were several letters that I had re-read
before going to bed. On dressing myself, while my captors were saddling
my horse, I assorted these letters, and put them into different
pockets. After taking my own time to dress and arrange my valise, we
started, and rode to a camp of seventy or eighty men on the banks of
the Monterey River; there each officer and principal person passed the
time of night with me, and a remark or two. The commandante took me on
one side, and informed me that his people demanded that I should write
to San Juan, to the American captain of volunteers, saying that I had
left Monterey to visit the distressed families of the river, and
request or demand that twenty men should meet me before daylight, that
I could station them, before my return to town, in a manner to protect
these families. The natives, he said, were determined on the act being
accomplished. I at first endeavoured to reason with him on the infamy
and the impossibility of the deed, but to no avail; he said my life
depended on the letter; that he was willing, nay, anxious to preserve
my life as an old acquaintance, but could not control his people in
this affair. From argument I came to a refusal; he advised, urged, and
demanded. At this period an officer called out * * * * (Come here,
those who are named.) I then said, 'In this manner you may act and
threaten night by night; my life on such condition is of no value or
pleasure to me. I am by accident your prisoner--make the most of
me--write, I will not; shoot as you see fit, and I am done talking on
the subject.' I left him, and went to the camp fire. For a half-hour or
more there was some commotion around me, when all disturbance subsided.

"At daylight we started, with a flag flyi