nn_; and they and a dozen others (or as
many as the boat would hold) tumbled in.

The _Mary Ann_ was a small schooner, about fifty feet long and twenty
feet wide. She had one little cabin with four rooms, so that the
passengers were expected to sleep on deck or in the hold, where bunks
had been built along the sides, with the dining table (of boards) in
the middle! However, who cared, when they were off to the mines and
this was one way to get there?

"How long'll it take us, to Sacramento, captain?" hailed one of his
passengers.

"Five days with luck; two weeks without," snapped the captain, a very
short, red-faced little man, giving orders right and left and sending
mate and sailors running, as the _Mary Ann_ swung free from her
anchorage. Up went the foresail and out shook the jib. Leaning, the
_Mary Ann_ slowly gathered way, gliding through the ripples.

The great Bay of San Francisco was beautiful. The morning sun had
broken through the fog, to gild the hundreds of ships, and the dancing
water. Heeling to a smart breeze, the _Mary Ann_ soon passed vessel
after vessel lying at anchor--among them the _California_ herself. The
jumble of low buildings and tents forming the city of San Francisco
dwindled, behind; the uproar of voices and hammers died; and heading
for the north the _Mary Ann_ clipped merrily along, the Golden Gate
entrance on her left, the rolling hills of the California mainland
distant on her right.

Her passengers numbered thirty-seven--about seven more than she ought
to hold, decided Charley. Everybody was in high feather at the
prospects of being on the way to the "diggin's." They pressed against
the weather rail, mounted atop the cook's galley and the cabin roof,
and several of the boldest even climbed aloft to the cross-trees of
fore-mast and mainmast, where they cheered and whooped. Yes, it seemed
to be a sort of pleasure excursion. Voices were constantly shouting.

"That's Goat Island, isn't it? The first one we passed."

"There's Alcatraz."

"Hurrah for Angel Island! Anybody want to land?"

"Is this still San Francisco Bay?"

"Of course it is."

"Where's San Pablo Bay, then?"

"At the end, before we turn into the Sacramento River."

The _Mary Ann_ was making good time. The red-faced little captain
stood near the wheel, with folded arms and vigilant eye, as if he was
very proud of her. All the shipping at anchor had been left behind
long ago, and now the schooner