The California had finished discharging her cargo, and was to get under way at the same time with us.  Having washed down decks and got breakfast, the two vessels lay side by side, in complete readiness for sea, our ensigns hanging from the peaks, and our tall spars reflected from the glassy surface of the river, which, since sunrise, had been unbroken by a ripple.  At length a few whiffs came across the water, and, by eleven o’clock the regular northwest wind set steadily in.  There was no need of calling all hands, for we had all been hanging about the forecastle the whole forenoon, and were ready for a start upon the first sign of a breeze.  Often we turned our eyes aft upon the captain, who was walking the deck, with every now and then a look to windward.  He made a sign to the mate, who came forward, took his station deliberately between the knight-heads, cast a glance aloft, and called out ``All hands, lay aloft and loose the sails!’’ We were half in the rigging before the order came, and never since we left Boston were the gaskets off the yards, and the rigging overhauled, in a shorter time. ``All ready forward, sir!’’—­ ``All ready the main!’’—­ ``Cross-jack yards all ready, sir!’’—­ ``Lay down, all hands but one on each yard!’’ The yard-arm and bunt gaskets were cast off; and each sail hung by the jigger, with one man standing by the tie to let it go.  At the same moment that we sprang aloft, a dozen hands sprang into the rigging of the California, and in an instant were all over her yards; and her sails, too, were ready to be dropped at the word.  In the mean time our bow gun had been loaded and run out, and its discharge was to be the signal for dropping the sails.  A cloud of smoke came out of our bows; the echoes of the gun rattled our farewell among the hills of California, and the two ships were covered, from head to foot, with their white canvas.  For a few minutes all was uproar and apparent confusion; men jumping about like monkeys in the rigging; ropes and blocks flying, orders given and answered amid the confused noises of men singing out at the ropes.  The topsails came to the mast-heads with ``Cheerly, men!’’ and, in a few minutes, every sail was set, for the wind was light.  The head sails were backed, the windlass came round ``slip—­ slap’’ to the cry of the sailors;—­ ``Hove short, sir,’’ said the mate;—­ ``Up with him!’’—­ ``Aye, aye, sir.’’ A few hearty and long heaves, and the anchor showed its head. ``Hook cat!’’ The fall was stretched along the decks; all hands laid hold;—­ ``Hurrah, for the last time,’’ said the mate; and the anchor came to the cat-head to the tune of ``Time for us to go,’’ with a rollicking chorus.  Everything was done quick, as though it was for the last time.  The head yards were filled away, and our ship began to move through the water on her homeward-bound course.

The California had got under way at the same moment, and we sailed down the narrow bay abreast, and were just off the mouth, and, gradually drawing ahead of her, were on the point of giving her three parting cheers, when suddenly we found ourselves stopped short, and the California ranging fast ahead of us.  A bar stretches across the mouth of the harbor, with water enough to float common vessels, but, being low in the water, and having kept well to leeward, as we were bound to the southward, we had stuck fast, while the California, being light, had floated over.