THE ISLAND OF SAN CLEMENTE 141 



Howland's, and in half an hour had passed the south- 

 east end with its guardian eagles, then entered the 

 lee of the north coast, — for miles a wonderland of 

 caves and high precipices, possibly the last vestige of 

 the rim of a great volcano, the eastern rim being under 

 the ocean to the east. 



• The water was smooth as a lake, blue as turquoise, 

 and often deep to the very shore. The lava chffs 

 reached upward, sometimes to nineteen hundred feet, 

 and were cut by canons and gaping uncanny caves, in 

 many of which lived wild goats and sheep. All the 

 sheep live in the caves, and it was interesting to see 

 them pouring out of these weird, ragged-edge blow- 

 holes. At one point near the east end seven great 

 caves appeared at the water's edge, and everywhere 

 high up in the mountains vast holes and caves were 

 seen, like gaping wounds, surrounded by slopes of 

 cactus, golden wild oats, grasses, and clovers, making 

 the ascent to them more or less uncertain. One of 

 these caves had been used as a home by the ancients, 

 for from the sea the gleaming heaps of abalones could 

 be seen, telling of the industry of the cave men of 

 San Clemente. 



Slowly we ran up the coast, passing in review a 

 wonderful panorama of caves, cafions, and sloping 

 mesas. As we sailed on, the fog came from the west 

 over the summit a thousand feet above us. As it 

 reached the edge of the island mountain it stopped, 

 and poured down, a cascade of silver, as the sun fell 

 upon it, changing, scintillating, as if the silver of all 

 the mines in the world had been melted and, like lava 

 in a stream a mile or more wide, was rolling down into 

 the azure sea. Beyond here, where there was no fog, 



