92 HUNTING THE SEA OTTER. 



a sea a huge sea, yet no air in motion ; all our dependence 

 lay in our anchors, both of which had been long ready, but 

 still no soundings. At length, when all hope seemed to 

 have left us, the tension was removed by the cry, " Fifteen 

 fathoms, let go." Cable was paid out, and as soon as she 

 brought up the lead was lowered to see if she drifted. 

 Fortunately for us the anchor held. The cable, a new one, 

 was as strong as elastic ; it gave and took under the severe 

 strain like a spring of steel ; held, as it were, on the 

 brink of eternity by a slender thread of twisted coir, which 

 stretched and relaxed with each alternate roll and pitch of 

 the vessel, threatening each moment to snap. With every 

 eye riveted upon it as if it had been the thread of 

 Fate with remorseless Atropos holding the shears, while 

 the stern rose and fell on the very verge of the 

 breakers, whose white foam-covered waters waged ceaseless 

 strife with the precipices of dark, volcanic rock which 

 guard the shore and rise perpendicular from the sea, till, 

 hundreds of feet above, they blend their cold hues with the 

 warm greenery of the dwarf vegetation that clothes the 

 steep mountain sides. Thus passed the greater part of that 

 anxious day. Wet, tired, and sleepy from want of rest, and 

 half indifferent to what might happen for at the worst we 

 should find the rest we so much needed ; daylight would 

 soon be over, and only the darkness of night, now fast 

 approaching, was needed to complete our forlorn condition. 

 But if every cloud may have a silver lining, some fogs at 

 least may have a golden setting, for just as the day was 

 sinking into night and the white mist was slowly changing 

 to a more sombre leaden tint, suddenly and unexpectedly, 

 as if touched by some magic wand, the fog rose in great, 

 cloud-like masses from the water, revealing a wall of black 

 frowning precipices against which the sea broke in 

 continuous wreaths of foam and spray. Driven by the same 

 invisible force, for there was still not a breath of wind, it 

 mounted rapidly upwards, fold upon fold, higher and higher, 

 until, parted by the shoulders of a huge mountain that 



