42 A YEAR WITH A WHALER 



stantly over the brig's sides, catching skates, 

 soles, and little sharks. 



By the time we reached Turtle bay, it was no 

 longer a secret that we would get only a dollar 

 for our year's voyage. As a result, a feverish 

 spirit of discontent began to manifest itself 

 among those forward and plans to run away 

 became rife. 



We were anchored about a half mile from 

 shore, and after looking over the situation, I 

 made up my mind to try to escape. Except for 

 an officer and a boatsteerer who stood watch, all 

 hands were asleep below at night. Being a good 

 swimmer, I planned to slip over the bow in the 

 darkness and swim ashore. Once on land, I fig- 

 ured it would be an easy matter to cross the 

 Sierras and reach a Mexican settlement on the 

 Gulf of California. 



Possibly the officers got wind of the runaway 

 plots brewing in the forecastle, for Captain 

 Winchester came forward one evening, some- 

 thing he never had done before, and fell into gos- 

 sipy talk with the men. 



" Have you noticed that pile of stones with a 



