Dana, Richard Henry, 1815-1882; Sailors; Seafaring life; Voyages and travels
Everything being now ready, and the passengers aboard, we ran up the
ensign and broad pennant, (for there was no man-of-war, and we were the
largest vessel on the coast,) and the other vessels ran up their
ensigns. Having hove short, cast off the gaskets, and made the bunt of
each sail fast by the jigger, with a man on each yard; at the word, the
whole canvas of the ship was loosed, and with the greatest rapidity
possible, everything was sheeted home and hoisted up, the anchor
tripped and catheaded, 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 their number. The royal yards
were all crossed at once, and royals and skysails set, and, as we had
the wind free, the booms were run out, and every one was 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 it begins to blow the
first of January, and blows all the year round. 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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