possible everything was sheeted home and hoisted up, the anchor tripped and cat-headed, and the ship under headway.  We were determined to show the ``spouter’’ how things could be done in a smart ship, with a good crew, though not more than half his numbers.  The royal yards were all crossed at once, and royals and sky-sails set, and, as we had the wind free, the booms were run out, and all were aloft, active as cats, laying out on the yards and booms, reeving the studding-sail gear; and sail after sail the captain piled upon her, until she was covered with canvas, her sails looking like a great white cloud resting upon a black speck.  Before we doubled the point, we were going at a dashing rate, and leaving the shipping far astern.  We had a fine breeze to take us through the Canal, as they call this bay of forty miles long by ten wide.  The breeze died away at night, and we were becalmed all day on Sunday, about half-way between Santa Barbara and Point Conception.  Sunday night we had a light, fair wind, which set us up again; and having a fine sea-breeze on the first part of Monday we had the prospect of passing, without any trouble, Point Conception,—­ the Cape Horn of California, where, the sailors say, it begins to blow the first of January, and blows until the last of December.  Toward the latter part of the afternoon, however, the regular northwest wind, as usual, set in, which brought in our studding-sails, and gave us the chance of beating round the Point, which we were now just abreast of, and which stretched off into the Pacific, high, rocky, and barren, forming the central point of the coast for hundreds of miles north and south.  A cap-full of wind will be a bag-full here, and before night our royals were furled, and the ship was laboring hard under her top-gallant-sails.  At eight bells our watch went below, leaving her with as much sail as she could stagger under, the water flying over the forecastle at every plunge.  It was evidently blowing harder, but then there was not a cloud in the sky, and the sun had gone down bright.

We had been below but a short time, before we had the usual premonitions of a coming gale,—­ seas washing over the whole forward part of the vessel, and her bows beating against them with a force and sound like the driving of piles.  The watch, too, seemed very busy trampling about decks, and singing out at the ropes.  A sailor can tell, by the sound, what sail is coming in; and, in a short time, we heard the top-gallant-sails come in, one after another, and then the flying jib.  This seemed to ease her a good deal, and we were fast going off to the land of Nod, when—­ bang, bang, bang—­ on the scuttle, and ``All hands, reef topsails, ahoy!’’ started us out of our berths; and, it not being very cold weather, we had nothing extra to put on, and were soon on deck.  I shall never forget the fineness of the sight.  It was a clear, and rather a chilly night; the stars were twinkling with an intense brightness,