THE SHORE PATROL 
219 
westerly wind kept increasing, and by eleven o’clock the situ¬ 
ation was alarming. The waves were making a clean breach 
over us. My precious box of photographic plates was in the 
middle of the boat, propped up on a kettle and a coffee-pot 
to keep them out of the swashing water, and covered with 
a rubber cloth above. Finally, up spake Bradley: “Mr. Job, 
I don’t want to take the responsibility for your life ; suppose 
we run back and anchor behind those keys till we have better 
weather.” But time was very valuable, and I urged him to 
take the chances, so we kept on, and, after a hard ffght, by 
early afternoon reached the next keys to windward, — two 
small mangrove islets, one of them with a narrow sand-beach 
around it, close up to the thicket, with small sand-bars at 
one end just across a narrow channel that closely approached 
the shore. As we sailed near, I saw that these sands were fairly 
alive with shore-birds, feeding and taking refuge from the 
gale. 
Immediately I recognized this as a great opportunity, 
and, landing upon the key, despite the swarms of mosquitoes, 
I went to work. Up at the farther end were the most birds, 
and, creeping up, I peered through the bushes. Within from 
ten to twenty feet of me were a sprinkling of minor waders, 
a fine flock of some twenty Black-bellied Plovers, and a few 
Laughing Gulls. I wish I could have photographed the 
gulls, yet I am sorry they were there, for vdiile I was trying 
to clear a “window” through the mangrove shrubbery out 
of which to aim the camera, they saw me and set up such 
a screaming, as they departed, that they took with them all 
the other birds. 
However, standing knee-deep in the water, I finished my 
work and set up the camera on the tripod, and focused on 
the sand-bar. No sooner had I done this than many of the 
birds began to come back, —various sandpipers, Dowitchers, 
