the bar on a high tide. This must have been about 2 P.M. Once over
the bar, the sails were hoisted, and we glided along rapidly with a
strong, fair, northwest wind. The fog had lifted, so we could see
the shores plainly, and the entrance to the bay. In a couple of
hours we were entering the bay, and running "wing-and-wing."
Outside the wind was simply the usual strong breeze; but, as it
passes through the head of the Golden Gate, it increases, and
there, too, we met a strong ebb-tide.

The schooner was loaded with lumber, much of which was on deck,
lashed down to ring bolts with raw-hide thongs. The captain was
steering, and I was reclining on the lumber, looking at the
familiar shore, as we approached Fort Point, when I heard a sort of
cry, and felt the schooner going over. As we got into the throat
of the "Heads," the force of the wind, meeting a strong ebb-tide,
drove the nose of the schooner under water; she dove like a duck,
went over on her side, and began, to drift out with the tide. I
found myself in the water, mixed up with pieces of plank and ropes;
struck out, swam round to the stern, got on the keel, and clambered
up on the side. Satisfied that she could not sink, by reason of
her cargo, I was not in the least alarmed, but thought two
shipwrecks in one day not a good beginning for a new, peaceful
career. Nobody was drowned, however; the captain and crew were
busy in securing such articles as were liable to float off, and I
looked out for some passing boat or vessel to pick us up. We were
drifting steadily out to sea, while I was signaling to a boat about
three miles off, toward Saucelito, and saw her tack and stand
toward us. I was busy watching this sail-boat, when I heard a
Yankee's voice, close behind, saying, "This is a nice mess you've
got yourselves into," and looking about I saw a man in a small