One fine morning we found the _Triton_--one of a crowd of vessels of all rigs and sizes--standing in with a fair breeze towards the far-famed harbour of San Francisco.  High black rocks ran out of the sea before us, like monsters guarding the entrance to that domain of boundless wealth.  Loud roars, too, saluted our ears, which, on a further examination of the rocks, were found to proceed from a large congregation of sea-lions assembled at their bases.  As we glided by, not fifty fathoms from some of the rocks, they looked up at us with inquiring eyes, as if to know why we had come there; and, certainly, from their formidable heads, they appeared as if they were well able to defend their native territory.  Jerry could not resist the temptation of firing his rifle among them.  It had a wonderful effect on the whole body; big and little sea-lions, and cows, and seals, all began floundering away in the greatest dismay into the water--their awkward-looking movements being very amusing; at the same time, thousands of birds, which had been perched on the rocks, or floating in the water, rose into the air, with loud screams, circling round our heads; while porpoises, or some other huge monsters of the deep, kept gambolling around us, and now and then leaping out of the water in sportive humour.