BIDING THE BREAKERS 



the tide flowed more swiftly and our progress 

 became less while the line ran low on the reel. I 

 was glad when it reached the end and parted, 

 for the canoe had ceased to be manageable by a 

 single paddle. Two hundred yards to the west 

 of us the incoming rollers met the outrushing 

 flow from the pass in shallow water, and a line 

 of roaring breakers tossed foam and spray high 

 in the air. Laying down my rod, I picked up the 

 paddle and soon we were riding the big waves 

 easily as we paddled briskly away from the line 

 of breakers. Yet the roar of the surf grew louder 

 as we progressed, filling my ears, when a great 

 wave burst beside us, sprinkling spray and foam 

 over the canoe. 



I turned at a shout from the Camera-man and 

 looked upon the main line of breakers, less than 

 fifty yards distant. The current of the pass had 

 beaten our best efforts. It was useless to fight 

 it and our only hope lay in carrying the canoe 

 through the breakers. We had scarcely time to 

 turn our craft before a breaking wave was upon 

 us. Solid water struck the canoe and lifted its 

 bow to an angle of forty-five degrees, while a 

 dash of foam blinded my eyes for a moment. 



49 



