I will not describe another gale which came on, and drove us away to the southward and westward for several days, the wind shifting about so much that we scarcely knew where we had got to.  At length, when it had moderated, so that an observation could be taken, we found that we were on the coast of Mexico, not far from the harbour of Mazatlan, near the entrance of the Gulf of California.  The ship had been so battered about during the gale, that the captain was glad of an opportunity of running into harbour to repair damages, before proceeding to San Francisco, where he could not expect to find workmen, and where, if he remained long, his own crew might be tempted to desert.  As we stood in for the shore, a few barren rocks or small islands appeared in sight, and running through, we found ourselves before a pretty little town, part of it standing on the foot of a steep promontory, and partly on a sandy bank which encircles a wide lagoon.  This was Mazatlan.  It is inhabited by Mexican Spaniards.  The first mate, Mr Renshaw, had not been on shore during the voyage, so the captain insisted on his going with the doctor and Jerry and me.  We first went to an inn--a _meson_, as it was called.  It consisted of a quadrangular building, with a court-yard in the centre, and a corridor running round it.  All the rooms opened into this corridor, and had no communication with each other.  The corridor was the general lounging-place; and at night many of the guests who preferred air to privacy, slung their hammocks in it.  Round the walls, or on the pillars, they also hung up their saddles and other riding gear.  As to furniture, there is something like a bedstead, a wooden elevation which keeps the sleeper from the floor; but chairs and tables are luxuries seldom met with, while washhand-stands are things unheard of--washing being but little in vogue among the travelling population. We were fortunate in falling in with two Englishmen--that is to say, one, Captain Driscoll, was an Irishman, who had been in the Mexican service; and the other, Dr Dwyer, was a merchant.  They knew the country well, and were travelling towards Durango, the largest town in the neighbourhood.  They had with them two young men, sons of _rancheroes_, as the Mexican cattle-farmers are called.  They both lived some way up the country, and as they also were bound to Durango, and had speedily to return, it was arranged that we should all travel together. With the addition of our new friends' two servants, we thus together mustered ten persons.  We were all of us well-armed, and not without necessity: our friends told us that the country had lately been infested by large bands of Comanche Indians, who had been driven away from the borders of the United States, and had discovered that they were able to carry on their depredations among the Mexicans almost with impunity. "They are not likely to attack a well-armed party, and if they do, we can give a good account of them."  This account only the more excited our interest, and we quite hoped that the Indians would attack us.  When we first went to the inn, we saw a large party on horseback just setting out, we understood, in the same direction.  They were all armed to the teeth,--with pistols in their belts, some with swords by their sides, and others with lances or rifles.  They made a gay appearance on their richly caparisoned steeds, with their broad-brimmed hats and feathers, bright-coloured sashes, trousers open at the knees, with silver buttons and loose jackets, with yellow boots and large silver spurs.  They were laughing loudly and talking; and as they flourished their spears and rifles, they boasted how they would treat any Indians who might dare to attack them.  The doctor said he thought that it was a pity we had not been ready to accompany them.