Watching for a ``smooth chance,’’ we determined to show the other boats the way it should be done, and, as soon as ours floated, ran out with her, keeping her head out, with all our strength, and the help of the captain’s oar, and the two after oarsmen giving way regularly and strongly, until our feet were off the ground, we tumbled into the bows, keeping perfectly still, from fear of hindering the others.  For some time it was doubtful how it would go.  The boat stood nearly up and down in the water, and the sea, rolling from under her, let her fall upon the water with a force which seemed almost to stave her bottom in.  By quietly sliding two oars forward, along the thwarts, without impeding the rowers, we shipped two bow oars, and thus, by the help of four oars and the captain’s strong arm, we got safely off, though we shipped several seas, which left us half full of water.  We pulled alongside of the Loriotte, put her skipper on board, and found her making preparations for slipping, and then pulled aboard our own ship.  Here Mr. Brown, always ``on hand,’’ had got everything ready, so that we had only to hook on the gig and hoist it up, when the order was given to loose the sails.  While we were on the yards, we saw the Loriotte under way, and, before our yards were mast-headed, the Ayacucho had spread her wings, and, with yards braced sharp up, was standing athwart our hawse.  There is no prettier sight in the world than a full-rigged, clipper-built brig, sailing sharp on the wind.  In a minute more our slip-rope was gone, the head-yards filled away, and we were off.  Next came the whaler; and in half an hour from the time when four vessels were lying quietly at anchor, without a rag out, or a sign of motion, the bay was deserted, and four white clouds were moving over the water to seaward.  Being sure of clearing the point, we stood off with our yards a little braced in, while the Ayacucho went off with a taut bowline, which brought her to windward of us.  During all this day, and the greater part of the night, we had the usual southeaster entertainment, a gale of wind, with occasional rain, and finally topped off with a drenching rain of three or four hours.  At daybreak the clouds thinned off and rolled away, and the sun came up clear.  The wind, instead of coming out from the northward, as is usual, blew steadily and freshly from the anchoring-ground.  This was bad for us, for, being ``flying light,’’ with little more than ballast trim, we were in no condition for showing off on a taut bowline, and had depended upon a fair wind, with which, by the help of our light sails and studding-sails, we meant to have been the first at the anchoring-ground; but the Ayacucho was a good league to windward of us, and was standing in in fine style.  The whaler, however, was as far to leeward of us, and the Loriotte was nearly out of sight, among the islands, up the Canal.  By hauling every brace and bowline, and clapping watch-tackles upon all the sheets and halyards, we managed to hold our own, and drop the leeward vessels a little in every tack.  When we reached the anchoring-ground, the Ayacucho had got her anchor, furled her sails, squared her yards, and was lying as quietly as if nothing had happened.