Pacific.

"Stand by for stays."

As before, one of the Chinese hands stood by the sail rope of the
jib.

"Draw y'r jib."

The jib filled. The schooner came about on the port tack; Lime
Point fell away over the stern rail. The huge ground swells began
to come in, and as she rose and bowed to the first of these it was
precisely as though the "Bertha Millner" were making her courtesy
to the great gray ocean, now for the first time in full sight on
her starboard quarter.

The schooner was beating out to sea through the Middle Channel.
Once clear of the Golden Gate, she stood over toward the Cliff
House, then on the next tack cleared Point Bonita. The sea began
building up in deadly earnest--they were about to cross the bar.
Everything was battened down, the scuppers were awash, and the
hawse-holes spouted like fountains after every plunge. Once the
Captain ordered all men aloft, just in time to escape a gigantic
dull green roller that broke like a Niagara over the schooner's
bows, smothering the decks knee-deep in a twinkling.

The wind blew violent and cold, the spray was flying like icy
small-shot. Without intermission the "Bertha Millner" rolled and
plunged and heaved and sank. Wilbur was drenched to the skin and
sore in every joint, from being shunted from rail to mast and from