crop was not yet to hand, and
Masters were hanging back for a rise in freights. There we lay, idle
ships, while the summer sun ripened the crops and reared the golden
grain for the harvest--the harvest that we waited to carry round the
roaring Horn to Europe. Daily we rowed the Old Man ashore, and when he
returned from the Agent's office, we could tell by the way he took a
request (say, for a small advance "to buy a knife") that our ship was
still unchartered, and likely to be so for some time.

To a convenient wharf the gigs of each ship came every morning, and
from then to untold hours of the night the jetty steps were well worn
by comings and goings. Some of the Captains (the man-driving ones, who
owed no man a moment) used to send their boats back to the ship as soon
as they landed, but a number kept theirs at the wharf in case messages
had to be sent off. We usually hung around at the jetty, where there
were fine wooden piles that we could carve our barque's name on when
our knives were sharp enough. With the boats' crews from other ships
we could exchange news and opinions, and quarrel over points in
seamanship.

Those amongst us who had often voyaged to 'Frisco, and others who had
been long in the port, were looked upon as 'oracles,' and treated with
considerable respect. The _Manydown_ had been sixteen months in
'Frisco, and her boys could easily have passed muster as Americans.
They chewed sweet tobacco ("malassus kyake," they called it), and swore
Spanish oaths with freedom and abandon. Their gig was by far the
finest and smartest at the jetty, and woe betide the unwitting 'bow'
who touched her glossy varnished side with his boat-hook. For him a
wet swab was kept in readiness, and their stroke, a burly ruffian, was
always willing to attend to the little affair if it went any farther.
Our Captains came down in batches, as a rule, and there would be great
clatter of oars and shipping of rowlocks as their boats hauled
alongside to take them off. Rivalry was keen, and many were the
gallant races out to the anchorage, with perhaps a little sum at stake
just for the honour of the ship.

We had about a month of this, and it was daily becoming more difficult
to find a decently clear space on the piles on which to carve
'_Florence_, of Glasgow.' One day the Old Man returned at an unusual
hour, and it was early evident that something was afoot; he was too
preoccupied to curse Hansen properly for being away