12:30
At high tide , all hands straining upon the warp , the schooner was floated off , and under touch of the lightest airs drew almost imperceptibly away from the land . They were quite an hour crawling out to the heads of the bay . But here the breeze was freshening . Moran took the wheel ; the flying-jib and staysail were set ; the wake began to whiten under the schooner 's stern , the forefoot sang ; the Pacific opened out more and more ; and by 12:30 o'clock Moran put the wheel over , and , as the schooner 's bow swung to the northward , cried to Wilbur : `` Mate , look your last of Magdalena Bay ! '' Standing at her side , Wilbur turned and swept the curve of the coast with a single glance . The vast , heat-scourged hoop of yellow sand , the still , smooth shield of indigo water , with its beds of kelp , had become insensibly dear to him . It was all familiar , friendly , and hospitable .