AMONG THE WATER-FOWL 



The day was unpromising ; clouds were threat- 

 ening, a fog-bank hung off at sea, and the wind, 

 strong from the south-east, covered the ocean 

 expanse with white-caps. About ten o'clock, when 

 we had given up hope of starting that day, the 

 schooner was sighted off to the westward. In half 

 an hour she had rounded the point and "hove to" 

 off the beach. As no boat put off from her, we 

 got two French fishermen to launch their seine- 

 boat and set us aboard. It was no easy matter, but 

 finally we got out through the breakers without a 

 wetting, and managed to tumble up on the plung- 

 ing vessel. 



Following along shore, for an hour or so, the 

 strong wind bore us opposite East Point, when, turn- 

 ing our backs upon the grim expanse of sand that 

 has received so many human corpses from the deep, 

 we sped out into the unknown toward the invisible 

 rock that lay sixteen miles to the north. Soon we 

 approached the off-lying fog-bank, and the " gray 

 walls " shut in thick and chill around us. The 

 vessel was now rolling and plunging into the trough 

 of the following seas in the most approved fashion. 

 After two hours or more the captain thought that 

 we must be getting near to the Rock. More and 

 more birds came in sight, and we strained our ears 

 for the clamour of the colony and the roaring of 

 the surf. At length, anxious lest we should run too 

 close upon the Rock in the fog, the captain crawled 

 out and stood upon the end of the bowsprit, plung- 

 ing almost into the sea. Suddenly, now, the fog 

 began to lift a sign of land. Soon we could see 

 the blue overhead, and then, just as our look-out 



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