faith in him. It was gorgeous to see him speed his boat over the
turbulent waters with an inbred skill and ease which reminded one of
seagulls buffeting the wind or harbor seals playing in their element.
Like these the man was adapted to his life, not because he possessed
wonderful intelligence but owing to the brine which, since childhood, had
entered his blood. The vast ice-pans had revealed their secrets to him
and the North Atlantic gales had become the breath of his nostrils.

I can remember a time when I had an idea that I could handle a boat
fairly well, but now I was compelled to recognize my limitations, while I
really enjoyed the exhibition of Sammy's skill.

"We'd ought ter be gettin' handy," roared the latter to Frenchy, who
nodded back, turning towards us his dripping, bearded face, for an
instant.

Suddenly he extended his arm.

"Me see. To port!" he shouted.

Dimly, veiled by the fog curtain, of ghostly outline, a jutting cliff
appeared and Sammy luffed slightly. On both sides of us the seas were
dashing up some tremendous rocks, but directly ahead there was an opening
between the combers that hurled themselves aloft, roaring and impotent,
to fall back into seething masses of spume. There was a suggestion of
tremendous walls over which voices were shrieking in the battle of
unending centuries between the moving turmoil and the stolid cliffs,
defying the battering waves.

Our little boat flew on, and suddenly the rolling and pitching ceased as