““Man the bars,” now sonorously resounded from the speaking trumpet of our first lieutenant. The word was electric. Each one was at his station in a moment; the fifer thrilled off two or three notes to show that his instrument was in complete order for the occasion––the after-guard stationed at the capstan bars, took up their positions with distended arms, to give the greater force to their first movement––the mizen-topmen seated themselves comfortably upon deck close to the messenger, blessing their stars for having such a sinecure, and every one was awaiting as impatiently for a commencement of the busy scene, as an audience at the Bowery or Park before the rising of the curtain ever waited for the appearance of the inimitable Forrest, when anticipating his entré in one of his favourite characters. The order to "heave round" was now given; the fifer made the gun deck re-echo with the lively and applicable tune of "off she goes," the men at the bars kept unerring time with their feet, as they made the capstan obey the impulse of their vigorous nerves, the incessant clink of the chain was heard, as it flew through the hawsehole with a quickness scarcely to be equalled, and in as short a time as can well be imagined our ponderous anchor was short apeak.

"All hands make sail," was now thrillingly proclaimed by the boatswain and his mates, and a scene rife with bustle and liveliness immediately took place; the several sail-loosers were already in the rigging, panting with eagerness for a display of their agility; the topmen watching each other with jealous eyes, to see that no advantage was taken on either side: at the next order all were in motion, scrambling aloft with the dexterity and nimbleness of monkeys, and spreading themselves along the several yards at the word "lay out," with exact regularity, forming altogether a pleasing and imposing picture. The topsail-sheets and halliards were stretched along and manned, and the first lieutenant enquired if they were all ready aloft? "all ready, sir," was the response from half-a-dozen eager voices: "stand by; let fall." The heavy sails, as if by magic, now burst from the gaskets that had held them in such secure and graceful folds, and as the merry notes of the shrill fife re-echoed amongst the adjacent hills, sail after sail was made, the anchor was catted and fished, the yards were trimmed to the wind; our old frigate began to feel its influence—and she was soon "walking the waters like a thing of life," leaving the happy shores of Columbia in the distance.”
[Life in a Man-of-war: Or Scenes in "Old Ironsides" During Her Cruise in the Pacific. Mercier, Gallop, 1841]