off. Two of the savages standing
erect wore sea-boots, and this sustained the suspicion that they had
fallen upon some luckless ship's crew, and also added a hint that they
had already visited the _Spray's_ deck, and would now, if they could,
try her again. Their sea-boots, I have no doubt, would have protected
their feet and rendered carpet-tacks harmless. Paddling clumsily, they
passed down the strait at a distance of a hundred yards from the
sloop, in an offhand manner and as if bound to Fortescue Bay. This I
judged to be a piece of strategy, and so kept a sharp lookout over a
small island which soon came in range between them and the sloop,
completely hiding them from view, and toward which the _Spray_ was now
drifting helplessly with the tide, and with every prospect of going on
the rocks, for there was no anchorage, at least, none that my cables
would reach. And, sure enough, I soon saw a movement in the grass just
on top of the island, which is called Bonet Island and is one hundred
and thirty-six feet high. I fired several shots over the place, but
saw no other sign of the savages. It was they that had moved the
grass, for as the sloop swept past the island, the rebound of the tide
carrying her clear, there on the other side was the boat, surely
enough exposing their cunning and treachery. A stiff breeze, coming up
suddenly, now scattered the canoes while it extricated the sloop from
a dangerous position, albeit the wind, though friendly, was still
ahead.

The _Spray_, flogging against current and wind, made Borgia Bay on the
following afternoon, and cast anchor there for the second time. I
would now, if I could, describe the moonlit scene on the strait at
midnight after I had cleared the savages and Bonet Island. A heavy
cloud-bank that had swept across the sky then cleared away, and the
night became suddenly as light as day, or nearly so. A high mountain
was mirrored in the channel ahead, and the _Spray_ sailing along with
her shadow was as two sloops on the sea.

[Illustration: Records of passages through the strait at the head of
Borgia Bay. Note.--On a small bush nearer the water there was a board
bearing several other inscriptions, to which were added the words
"Sloop _Spray_, March, 1896"]

The sloop being moored, I threw out my skiff, and with ax and gun
landed at the head of the cove, and filled a barrel of water from a
stream. Then, as before, there was no sign of Indians at the place.
Finding it q