an even keel at
last; it seems at least six months since we left the shining shores of
San Francisco, yet it is scarce thirty hours--but such hours, ugh!

"Bolinas Bay, May 6th.

"Wind blowing a perfect gale; we are lying under a long hill, and the
narrow bay is scarcely rippled by the blast that rushes over us, thick
with flying-scud. Captain resolves to await better weather; some of the
boys go on shore, and wander out to a kind of reef at the mouth of the
bay, where in a short time they succeed in gathering a fine mess of
mussels; the rest of us, the stay-on-boards, rig up a net and catch
fifteen large fat crabs; with these we cook a delicious dinner, which we
devour ravenously, like half-starved men; begin to realize how
storm-tossed mariners feel, and have been recounting hair-breadth
escapes, over our pipes on deck; there will be much to tell the fellows
on shore, if we are ever so fortunate as to get home again.

"May 7th.

"Though the weather is still bad enough to discourage us landsmen, we
put to sea, and once more head for the Farallones. They are hidden in
mist, but we beat bravely about, and by-and-by distinguish the faint
outlines of the islands looming through the fog! We try to secure the
buoy, tacking to and fro; just at the wrong moment our main halyards
part, and the sail comes crashing to the deck. To avoid being cast on
the inhospitable shore, we put to sea under jib and foresail, and are
five miles away before damages are repaired and we dare venture to
return; head about, and make fast this time. Hurrah! After several trips
of the small boat, succeed in landing luggage and provisions above
high-water mark on the Farallones; each trip of the boat is an event,
for it comes in on a big breaker, and grounds in a torrent of foam and
sand.

"We find two cabins at our disposal; the larger one containing
dining-room and kitchen, and chambers above; seven of our boys store
their blankets in the rude bunks that are drawn by lot. Tom, Jim, and I
secure the smaller cabin, a single room, with bunks on three sides, a
door on the fourth.

"9 p.m.--We have dined and smoked and withdrawn to our respective
lodges; the wind moans without, a thin, cold fog envelopes us; the sea
breaking furiously, the night gloomy beyond conception, but the captain
and his crew on the little schooner are not so comfortable as the
egg-pickers whom they have left behind.

"May 8th.

"We all rose much refreshed, and after a