The Spanish Governor at Monterey instructed the alcalde at Yerba Buena to grant Mr. Leese an allotment of land within the government reservation. According, Leese took possession of a 100 vara lot on the south side of Richardson's tent, at the corner of Clay and Dupont street, 250 yards from the beach, washed by the waters of the bay, which then came to the present Montgomery street. The building was finished July 4th, 1836, and an enthusiastic celebration was held. Many Spanish dignitaries and their families attended the feast. The tent and the house erected by Richardson and Leese were the nucleus of the present city of San Francisco. Leese married a daughter of General Vallejo, and on April 15, 1838, Rosalie Leese was joyfully welcomed, the first child born in Yerba Buena. The same

year Leese erected a larger frame building and began to branch out

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in real estate. Richardson caught the enthusiasm for improvement and constructed an adobe building to keep up with the times. In 1840, Leese sold his properties to the Hudson Bay Co., and removed to Sonoma. Subsequently he went to Oregon, then just opening up. Eight years later, 1844, the little pueblo had increased to a dozen houses of various kinds of construction, and some fifty or so white residents.

Among them were numbers of adventurers who earned what pot luck living they could by trapping and hunting. Otters and beavers were plentiful in the bay and its estuaries. The San Joaquin and Sacramento Valleys were happy hunting grounds for their plentiful pelts, which brought from $40 to $60 each. Trade was still in the barter stage, hides, gewgaws, sea otter and beaver pelts passing readily as values in coin.

I

IN THE YEAR 1774, when the government of New Spain was preparing for the establishment of a mission and settlement on the recently discovered bay of San Francisco, it was decided, as a preliminary to the arrival of the party of settlers coming overland under the leadership of Anza, to send the transport San Carlos to make a thorough exploration of that port. According to a custom prevailing at that time, the little vessel rejoiced in a double name, the second being a curious mixture of French and Spanish, Toison de Oro, meaning in English "Golden Fleece." Later events make it almost seem as though some prophecy dwelt in this name.

Although the shores of the bay had been partially explored from the land -by Portola and Crespi in 1769, by Fages and Crespi in 1772, and by Rivera in 1773-no entrance had yet been made from the sea. It was not even known whether the passage through the narrow channel was practicable for ships.

At this time the expedition under Heceta and Bodega was just setting out for the Northwest Coast, and it was in company with the ships of this party, the Santiago and the Sonora, that the transport San Carlos left San Blas, Mexico, on March 16, 1775. At the time of the departure the San Carlos was commanded by Don Miguel Manrique, while the schooner Sonora sailed under Don Juan Manuel de Ayala, whose name, for some unexplained reason, has been incorrectly given by several historians as Juan Bautista de Ayala.

For three days the little fleet of four ships, including the transport San Antonio, bound for San Diego with sup

plies, sailed merrily along, when suddenly they were thrown into excitement by a signal of distress from the San Carlos. A small boat was lowered and sent to her from the flagship, the Santiago, which presently returned bringing Capt. Manrique, who was seen to be not in his right mind. It became necessary to send the unfortunate man to land, and to make a new distribution of officers. Through this tragic circumstance, Captain Ayala was transferred to the San Carlos, and thus, by accident, became the hero of one of the most important events in the maritime annals of California.

Ayala had not been long in his new quarters when he had a most disagreeable reminder of his insane predecessor, who had left loaded pistols in the cabin. One of these weapons was accidentally discharged, wounding Ayala in the right foot so severely as to cause him much inconvenience during the greater part of the voyage.

The port of Monterey was reached after an uneventful passage, and, while supplies for that place were being unloaded, Captain Ayala busied himself in constructing a cayuco, or dug-out, from the trunk of a tree on the Carmelo River. As Bancroft remarks, the construction of this rude craft, which afterwards did good service in shore explorations in San Francisco Bay, may be regarded as the beginning of ship-building on the California coast.

Ayala's instructions were to thoroughly explore the shores of the bay, to ascertain whether its narrow entrance was practicable for the passage of ships, whether it afforded a safe harbor, and whether there was any strait communicating with the old

San Francisco (Drake's) Bay.

Rivera, the commandante at Monterey, was to cooperate by sending a land force from his own presidio, and the two were to make all possible preparations, even to the building of building of houses, for the colonists under Anza, who were soon to begin their weary overland march.

Everything now being in readiness, Ayala, with his two pilotos (sailing masters), Jose Canizares and Juan Bautista Aguirre, and the chaplain, Father Santa Maria, set sail from Monterey on July 27th. Some confusion has arisen among historians concerning the date of Ayala's departure from Monterey and his arrival at the Golden Gate. This confusion resulted from the fact that the original diaries of the voyage were not at that time available. Copies of these documents have since been brought from Seville, Spain, to the Bancroft Library at the University of California, and by them the dates have been conclusively established.

The pious Spaniards did not depend upon material preparations alone for the success of their voyage, for on the day of their departure a solemn novena (nine days prayer) was begun to the patron saint of the new establishment "the seraphic father Saint Francis."

Beating against the wind, with varying fortunes of calms and fogs, and no doubt greatly encouraged by their simple faith in the supplications that went up night and day to the gentle saint, they found themselves, most appropriately on the day of the conclusion. of the novena, at the entrance to the bay. As the pilotos had expected to take a month for the voyage, the fortunate and short period of nine days was gratefully ascribed to the influence of the patriarch Saint Francis.

Toward nightfall on this day, August 5, 1775, the launch was sent to look for an anchorage. It was soon lost sight of in the gathering dusk, and the commander of the bark, although he had no signs or descriptions whatever, to guide him through the chan

nel, decided to take the ship in without waiting for the return of the small boat.

Taking every precaution, including frequent soundings with a twentypound lead, which, however, was prevented from touching bottom by the swiftness of the current, he moved slowly forward. The wind blew strongly, threatening momentarily to tear out a mast, but the little vessel crept cautiously along until she had reached a point a league within the mouth and a quarter of a mile from the shore (in the vicinity of the present North Beach), when the wind suddenly fell calm. It should be observed here that the Spanish nautical league is equivalent to nearly four English miles, but the distances given by Ayala were probably only approximate. Anchor was dropped at halfpast ten in twenty-two fathoms, sandy bottom.

Thus, on that breezy August evening, in the year before the bursting forth of the fires of revolution on the far Eastern shore of the continent, in the deepening darkness of the early night, at the ebb tide, the gallant little ship San Carlos, with her second and prophetic name Golden Fleece, made history as the first European vessel to pass through the narrow channel since become famous as the Golden Gate. Curiously enough, the Spaniards never gave any specific name to the strait, but simply referred to it as la boca (the mouth) of the bay. It remained for a member of an alien race, John C. Fremont, to give it the present felici

tous name.

On the following day, having been joined by the small boat, the two vessels crossed over to an island, which they named Nuestra Senora de los Angeles, a poetic title which the island in question has had the happy fortune to retain in its translated form of Angel island. "Our Lady of the angels" was a name by which the Virgin was often designated among the Spaniards. In an "elbow" on the northwestern shore of this island, in nine fathoms, a pistol shot from shore, they found a