174 
WILD WINGS 
ing port. For a comparatively moderate consideration he 
offered to take us across that afternoon. 
In due time we found ourselves out in the dense fog, the 
steamer rolling her rails under as the great ocean swells 
hurled themselves against her. It was no wonder that the 
fishermen did not care to attempt it. Now and then a Sooty 
Shearwater, wild wanderer from the Antarctic Ocean, on 
long, narrow wings would come sweeping along the trough 
of the sea and then go scaling over the crests to windward. 
While man may be struggling and drowning, they are merry 
and fearless. But now, though we did roll heavily, we were 
climbing the old seas offshore at a steady pace, and every 
foot was so much nearer Seal Island. Sails are prettv, but 
when for days one has been baffled and beaten, he believes 
in steam. 
At length the fog began to lift, which, with the lessening of 
the swell, indicated an approach to land. Then the long-lost 
sun beamed out over the tossing water, and Seal Island began 
to emerge from the mist. Soon we could clearly see its spec¬ 
tacle-shaped form, the two lobes with their dense spruces and 
rocky shores, and the connecting bridge of sand. From the 
thick forest of the southern lobe stood out the white light¬ 
house tower, and above the dark foliage of both the white 
Herring Gulls were hovering, in beautiful contrast. We were 
approaching the eastern side, which was under the lee, so the 
sea was not rough. Coming to anchor, we were set ashore in 
a dory on a conveniently built slip in the cove, and were soon 
enjoving the bountiful fare and hospitality of the owner of 
the island and his family. For several days, now, the weather 
was, for the most part, fair, and I was able to spend the 
whole time in studying and photographing the birds. 
Our nearest neighbors were the Black Guillemots. Back 
from the house, a short road led down through the spruces 
