VIII THE LAST OF THE BERING SEA 155 



think Sand Point would have disappeared on our return, 

 although it was separated by many miles of sea from the 

 mainland, and some forty miles from the volcano. When 

 the mountain grew rather more active than usual one 

 evening, he confided to me quietly, " Pretty soon me think 

 no more Sand Point." It was, however, merely a storm 

 in a tea-cup, and had worked itself out before we recrossed 

 the peninsula. 



The return journey to Herendeen Bay was uneventful, 

 except for the fact of our having to put in long spells of 

 hard rowing in the dory to make headway against the dread- 

 fully strong tides. Even then, with three oars out and the 

 sail set, we had some severe struggles to round certain 

 points on the coast. On one of these occasions we overtook 

 Nicolai, who as usual had out-distanced us in his small craft, 

 and was waiting for us under shelter of a sandspit. Here 

 we found him sitting forward in the bidarki, his head on his 

 arms, and fast asleep. The bidarki was rolling and tossing 

 about in a heavy swell, requiring the utmost nicety of 

 balance to prevent it from turning over, and yet we found 

 this extraordinary native fearlessly sleeping like a duck on 

 the water. So much for a life spent from childhood upwards 

 in these canoes, during which Nicolai had earned the reputa- 

 tion of being the most fearless man in a bidarki, and also the 

 most experienced and successful sea-otter hunter anywhere 

 in the neighbourhood of Kodiak Island. 



We arrived late one evening in Herendeen Bay, and ran 

 the dory ashore near the coal station. Walking to the houses 

 about a mile from the bay, we were received hospitably by 

 Captain Du Can and his man, who gave both Schultze and 

 myself a bunk in the house. The gallant Captain himself 

 insisted on cooking us a supper, as we had come in tired 



