A Trip to the Farallones. 



stored us to a more comfortable frame 

 of mind, although, every few minutes, 

 a vigorous wave would come cathud 

 against the bow and hurl a bucketful 

 of water in our faces. The fortunate 

 possession of a rubber coat saved me 

 from being completely drenched, and, 

 with the exception of the seepage from 

 an occasional shower of spray running 

 down my neck, and a pair of wet shoes, 

 I kept tolerably dry. The case was 

 otherwise with my companion, how- 

 ever ; he had no rubber coat, and was 

 accordingly soon compelled to go be- 

 low, drenched and disconsolate. 



We passed the ships anchored in the 

 stream. Alcatraz, with its array of for- 

 tifications, was on the right of us and 

 Black Point on the left. As we stood 

 out past Lime Point, in the teeth of a 

 stiff breeze, I occupied myself watching 

 the California murres disporting in the 

 water. The murre is one of the low 

 forms of sea bird which nest along the 

 exposed rocky cliffs of both the Atlan- 

 6G 



