33 2 Life in the Open 



and by this we anchored in a treacherous sea, the tide 

 rushing up and down, the sea running in and around, 

 and the wind whistling a mournful dirge through the 

 rigging. 



The landing is through the surf, and dangerous. 

 Another anchorage is at Corral Harbour, several miles 

 above. The wind-gods hold San Nicolas, and a more 

 uninviting spot it would be difficult to find. The wind 

 seemingly never ceases, lifting the sand into the air, 

 whirling it along like wraiths, filling great cafions, 

 emptying others, and every day changing the land- 

 scape. I crossed a plain as level as a floor, covered 

 with small pebbles that at times the wind hurls through 

 the air. Despite its interesting features, San Nicolas 

 is a good place to leave behind. In 1836, we are 

 told, the last Indians were taken away ; but as they 

 were leaving a squaw swam back to get her child, 

 and for some reason was left and abandoned. In 

 1856, twenty years later, George Nidever of Santa 

 Barbara landed there, on an otter hunt. To his sur- 

 prise he found huts of whalebone, and near one an old 

 woman, dressed in a garb of skins and feathers. She 

 presented a weird appearance ; her language was unin- 

 telligible. Nidever took her to Santa Barbara, where 

 every attempt was made to find some one who could 

 talk to her, but without success. The "lost woman" 

 died three months after her rescue, and was buried by 

 the mission fathers. 



In striking contrast are the Santa Barbara Islands, 



