TWO DIANAS IN ALASKA 147 



We delayed sailing again for a few hours in order 

 that every water-keg and tank might be filled up 

 preparatory to setting out on a quest after walrus. 

 Our pilot promised to steer us to some islands where 

 he confidently hoped to prove to us that it was not 

 too early for walrus to haul out. 



We anchored for the night in as sheltered a cove 

 as we could find, a little farther up the coast than 

 the spot where we had slain the two bears, and 

 weighed anchor early. When I came up on deck 

 after breakfast the atmosphere was clear, and the 

 placidity of the sea most unusual. Strange eddies of 

 air rushed at intervals through the shrouds, gusty 

 and ominous. Then from the distant mountains a 

 mighty puff of wind came singing over the sea, and 

 the mainsail flapped with a report as of a gun going 

 off. Far on the horizon line was a dark riband of 

 purple, and on the now freshening breeze strange 

 murmurous deep-toned mutterings of a brewing 

 storm became noticeable. Vast black clouds rolled 

 over the sky, travelling apace, and then a swinging 

 wind lashed the sea to a seething, boiling pot. Cap- 

 tain Clemsen, cool as ever, gave his orders in clear 

 tones, and in no time the Lily was almost bare of 

 sail. This was a "woolly" of "woollies." The 

 waves charged and ran in cataracts over our small 

 craft, and it seemed to me, watching from a safe 

 perch on the companion-ladder, that at intervals the 

 ship heeled over down to her waterways. 



Suddenly, in the squall and driving spray, a 

 phantom-like hull arose on our lee, driving the waves 



