HUNTING THE SEA OTTER. 127 



stealthily, we managed to capture three otters as we groped 

 our silent way along the coast. But, all too soon, the 

 atmosphere thickened again, making even this kind of 

 work impossible, and no other course was left but to return. 

 On our way we fell in with and boarded a small schooner, 

 the Flying Eagle, which had run over from the coast of 

 Alaska, and in fifteen months had only taken fourteen otters. 

 The ship's company were certainly labouring under great 

 disadvantages, numbering, all told, only five hands, barely 

 sufficient to work a couple of boats, and quite inadequate 

 to give any chance of success. Some little time afterwards, 

 when speaking of these adventurers to other otter hunters, 

 we learned that one of them was a celebrated shot, it being 

 a common thing for him to be rowed about San Francisco 

 Bay to shoot divers with his rifle, a feat he accomplished 

 with wonderful success. As these birds swim with only 

 the head and part of the neck exposed, some idea may be 

 formed by the reader as to the justice of his claim to be 

 considered one of the best shots on the Pacific coast. 



About noon the fog showed signs of clearing, so we put 

 off again. Every minute the air grew lighter, but the 

 reason was soon explained by a series of heavy gusts 

 "woollying' ; down the mountain sides, and great masses of 

 leaden-coloured clouds rose behind them, with a lookout so 

 threatening that prudence counselled return without further 

 delay. From our constant record of the changes in these 

 latitudes it may be inferred what a variable climate we had 

 to encounter. By tea-time the wind had gone down, the 

 clouds had retreated, and a beautiful calm evening again 

 tempted us into the boats to visit a small bed of kelp that 

 lay off the rocks, but nothing living was to be seen. We 

 landed at the mouth of a little stream born of fog and snow, 

 that tinkled like a silver bell through the thick growth, to 

 discharge its icy water into the sea. We divided and 

 walked along the shore in either direction in the hope of 

 seeing a bear, tracks being numerous, but never a bruin 

 did we meet An undergrowth of rhubarb-leaved plants, 



