We suppose you tired of land travel, with its accompanying jar and dust, and willing to spend a half day in a smooth-sailing steamer on the beautiful bay. Go to No. 703 Market street, only nine doors east of Bancroft's, to the office of Gen. Ord, commanding the Department of California. He can give you a pass, ordering, the captain of the McPherson, the lively little Government propeller, which daily makes the rounds of the military posts on all the chief islands in the harbor, to take you to any you may wish to visit, or all, if you desire. No other boat makes these trips. This one goes the rounds twice a day. Unless particularly fond of high wind, and short, choppy, sea-sicky waves, you'd better go in the morning. The steamer leaves Jackson street pier every morning at eight, and every afternoon at three. It takes you first, to
Alcatraz, or Alcatraces, as the Government spells it over the fortress gate. The first is the singular, and the second the plural, form of a Spanish word meaning a pelican. The island lies a mile and a quarter north of San Francisco, and two and one half miles east of the Golden Gate, whose entrance it commands. It is one third of a mile long, one tenth of a mile wide, rises a hundred and forty feet above low tide; a rudely elongated oval in shape, contains about thirty acres, composed mainly of solid rock; is heavily fortified on all sides and crowned by a strong fortress on the top. Perfect belts of batteries surround the island, mounting some of the heaviest guns yet made in America. It is the key to the fortifications of the harbor.
The island affords no fresh water. All which is used there is carried thither from the main land or caught in cisterns during the rainy season. On the highest point stands a lighthouse of the third order, whose light can be seen, on a clear night, twelve miles at sea, outside the Golden Gate. The southeast point of the island has a heavy fog-bell, which strikes four times a minute through all dense fogs. If you wish to land and examine the fortress and batteries, you can do so, and stay until the boat returns, usually half or three quarters of an hour, or remain till its afternoon trip, five or six hours later. From Alcatraz, the boat goes a mile and a half to
Angel Island, which lies three miles north of San Francisco, and is the largest and most valuable island in the bay. It is a mile and one third long, three quarters of a mile wide, and seven hundred and seventy-one feet high. It contains about six hundred acres of excellent land, watered by natural springs. On the east side are quarries of blue and brown sand-stone, while good brick-clay is found elsewhere. Three fixed batteries, mounting large and heavy guns, and connected by a military road encircling the island, have been built. The officers' quarters, barracks, and parade ground, are in a shallow, gently-sloping valley, near the landing on the west side.
Returning, we touch at Alcatraz and thence steam round to
Yerba Buena, or Goat Island, two miles east of San Francisco, and two and a half from the Oakland shore, from which the long railroad pier is heading straight for it, with the evident intention of bridging the entire distance at an early day. The island contains little over half a square mile, principally covered with chapparal, which is here a thicket of low, evergreen oaks, dwarfed by the salt air and the high winds. The Government also owns and occupies this island—barracks, shops, and garrison. The name Goat Island was given from the fact that many vessels coming to this port in early times, from southern ports where goats were cheap, used to bring them for fresh meat on the passage. In the event of a short voyage, a few goats survived, and upon arrival here were turned loose upon this island, as it lay near the anchorage, and provided a place from which the goats could not escape. These veteran survivors of the voyage "round the horn," presently increased to such numbers as to originate the name "Goat Island," which has, to a considerable degree, supplanted the earlier and more significant name Yerba Buena. This latter name, having been lifted from the city, ought at least to be allowed to fall and rest upon the island, in perpetuation of those "early days," whose landmarks are fast failing and fading into forgetfulness.
Now return with the boat to the pier, exchange the pure bay-breeze for dust-laden city airs, and you have completed your bay trip.
II. The Oakland Trip.
Oakland lies seven miles east of San Francisco. At least that is the distance from centre to centre; between the nearest margins the measure would be hardly five miles. A dozen times a day the ferry-boat takes one over; fare, 25 cents. Get out at Broadway street, turn to your left, walk four or five blocks, notice the comfortable, roomy appearance of the city. Two blocks up, observe that neat church on the left, set well back from the street and surrounded by ample grounds and pleasant gardens. That's Rev. Dr. Mooar's Congregational Church. A block or two beyond, look up the broad street to the right, and you see the buildings and grounds now occupied by the State University of California, pending the erection of ampler accommodations on the University site at Berkeley, five miles north. Take the horse cars if you like, and ride out north along the "telegraph road." Noble residences and beautiful grounds line both sides of the way. A mile out, that large, new, wooden building, crowning the summit of a moderate hill, accommodates McClure's Academy, wherein the military drill reinforces and enlivens the other usual studies of a first-class academy.
A third of a mile further, upon the same side appears the large and finely-proportioned Pacific Female College, lately purchased by the Pacific Theological Seminary.