THE EVER-CHANGING ISLAND 187 



The island, like many others, rises out of deep 

 water and is surrounded by a forest of kelp or nereo- 

 cystis, which affords a refuge for myriads of fishes. 

 The coast is a maze of strange caves eaten into the 

 rock. One of vast size is supposed to have been used 

 by the pirates of old, and until late years by seals and 

 sea-lions. Many of the caves are beneath or just at 

 the surface, and are constantly hissing and growling 

 like living things, and spouting water in great white 

 flocculent masses with the marvellous force of com- 

 pressed air. 



There are several anchorages; one, one-fourth of a 

 mile north of the middle of the island in about sixty 

 feet. There is another anchorage on the south shore, 

 and a small boat can land anywhere. With a sixty- 

 ton yacht we found the most comfortable landing 

 behind a little neck on the north side of the west end 

 of the western island. Here are a little cove, good 

 anchorage except in a southeaster, a fisherman's hut, 

 and a sandy beach. The island is a nest of caves; 

 one could cross it through caves or great windows in 

 places. 



To the eye the island is arid and deserted, but all 

 the pools and crevices are filled with animal hfe; 

 beautiful anemones Hne the rocks; limpets and aba- 

 lones are piled on one another despite the ravages of 

 Chinamen and Japanese, and the pools and natural 

 aquariums abound in a variety of forms. It is a sheep 

 ranch, and several hundred animals find sustenance 

 even on the dry verdure of summer. In winter, after 

 the rains, the island blooms again and takes on radiant 

 tints. There is little or no water for the sheep, yet so 

 dense is the fog that their coats become soaked at 



