CHAPTER XIII. 



BUT August 6th was to be a red-letter day, being bright 

 and clear from almost dawn to dark one of those days 

 we were always hoping and praying for, but which came 

 so seldom. 



We left the ship at six, after a hurried breakfast. The 

 dense mist that had enveloped us for the past two days 

 was disappearing fast, and the sun, clear and bright, shone 

 through the cloud-like vapour with ever-increasing force. 

 The depressing effects of living for days and weeks 

 enshrouded in gloom, sometimes without a sound except 

 the weird cry of a sea bird, often ignorant of our position 

 or proximity to the scarred and rugged rocks that 

 sentinelled a coast as storm-beaten as themselves, was 

 dissipated in a moment, as soon as Sol turned his warm 

 and almost forgotten old face upon land and water. 



When at mid-day we drew the boats together to have 

 our lunch of biscuit and good old salt-horse, we had got 

 six full-grown otters, most of which had led us a merry 

 dance over the glittering water. Our arms and faces, 

 which had begun to lose their tan, were smarting with the 

 reflection from the glassy water. 



Before we were finished we were joined by the six boats 

 of the Flying Mist and Otsego. Both were manned by 

 nice-looking Kanaka boys, which they had picked up at 

 Honolulu on their way from California. Our own little 

 Japs looked small beside them, except old Junkey. with his 

 hard-weather face, who towered above them. But their 

 little bodies had strong arms and legs, while their never- 

 failing good humour, tireless energy, and amenableness to 



