In the early days of the Californian immigration, on the extremest
point of the sandy peninsula, where the bay of San Francisco debouches
into the Pacific, there stood a semaphore telegraph. Tossing its black
arms against the sky, -with its back to the Golden Gate and the vast
expanse of sea whose nearest shore was Japan, - it signified to another
semaphore further inland the "rigs" of incoming vessels, by certain
uncouth signs, which were again passed on to Telegraph Hill, San Francisco,
where they reappeared on a third semaphore, and read to the initiated
"schooner," "brig," "ship," or "steamer." But all homesick San Francisco
had learned the last sign and on certain days of the month every eye
was turned to welcome those gaunt arms widely extended at right angles,
which meant "sidewheel steamer" (the only steamer which carried the
mails) and "letters from home." In the joyful reception accorded to
that herald of glad tidings, very few thought of the lonely watcher
on the sand dunes who dispatched them, or even knew of that desolate
station.
From The Man at the Semaphore, by Bret Harte
The History of the Marine
Exchange
The First Telegraph on the
Pacific
