THE ISLAND OF THE SACRED CROSS 265 



esting colony, which has been in operation twenty or 

 thirty years. I saw but two graves, one of the dead 

 men having been killed in an accident; whence we may 

 infer that the island is a healthful place. In fact, 

 though there was much to see of a novel and striking 

 nature, the climate of this little valley impressed us 

 the most, and we were told that it was almost the same, 

 winter and summer, so perfect that one almost regrets 

 that the island is private property, and that it is not 

 thrown open to the world like Santa Catalina. 



Santa Cruz has, like nearly all these islands, a pecul- 

 iar charm, and is to Santa Barbara, one of the delight- 

 ful old cities of the coast, what Santa Catalina is to 

 Los Angeles. Long ago it was a Spanish grant to some 

 conqiiestadore, coming to Andres Castellere under Mexi- 

 can rule, and to-day it is the vineyard and summer 

 home of the old i^^rench family of Justinian Caire. 



I shall not soon forget another glimpse I had of the 

 island. This time we had left Santa Barbara twenty- 

 five miles to the north and the yacht was bounding 

 along across the channel, the wind rising every moment, 

 until, when we were five miles offshore, it seemed to 

 blow half a gale. The skipper held on until it seemed 

 as if we v/ould hit the island. Its well-wooded slopes 

 rose before us in a tangle of fog banners, and great 

 masses of silvery foam-like mist swept down the side 

 — a glorious and impressive spectacle. We were 

 headed for a mountain. Point Diablo, which extended 

 out into the sea, a mountain of rock, and to ram this 

 seemed the object. But our skipper knew his waters. 

 Instead of coming about he kept on. Suddenly the 

 rocky precipice took the wind, the gale left us with 

 just headway enough to guide into a little harbor 



