A Trip to the Farallones. 



was flecked with big white combers. 

 Several fishing boats had started out 

 before us and a number followed closely- 

 after, making a picturesque little flotilla 

 scudding along under closely reefed 

 sails. The raising of our mainsail in 

 so stiff a breeze was attended with 

 no little difficulty, but at last, after 

 much pulling, jumping about, shouting, 

 and dodging of flapping canvas and 

 swinging boom, it was up and we were 

 started on our voyage. 



My companion and I were safely 

 stowed out of harm's way below deck, 

 with the hatch tightly closed over our 

 heads and the odors of unsavory viands 

 and bilge water about us in the dark- 

 ness. The boat was bobbing about 

 like a cork and the one controlling pas- 

 sion of our lives was to get out of our 

 prison into the sunlight. This we pre- 

 sently insisted on doing, and, upon 

 opening the hatch and standing up in 

 the well, life took on quite a diflFerent 

 aspect. The cold, salt air soon re- 



6s 



