Perhaps they did see it, but feared a hoax.
Giving the Fort Point a good wide berth, the _Susquehanna_ found the fog
gradually clearing away, and by half-past three the passengers, looking
under it, enjoyed the glorious view of the Contra Costa mountains east
of San Francisco, which had obtained for this entrance the famous and
well deserved appellation of the Golden Gate. In another half hour, they
had doubled Black Point, and were lying safely at anchor between the
islands of Alcatraz and Yerba Buena. In less than five minutes
afterwards the Captain was quickly lowered into his gig, and eight stout
pairs of arms were pulling him rapidly to shore.
The usual crowd of idlers had collected that evening on the summit of
Telegraph Hill to enjoy the magnificent view, which for variety, extent,
beauty and grandeur, is probably unsurpassed on earth. Of course, the
inevitable reporter, hot after an item, was not absent. The
_Susquehanna_ had hardly crossed the bar, when they caught sight of her.
A government vessel entering the bay at full speed, is something to look
at even in San Francisco. Even during the war, it would be considered
rather unusual. But they soon remarked that her bowsprit was completely
broken off.
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