Indian Harbor is like so many others on the coast, merely a "tickle"
with three ticklish entrances full of sunken rocks and treacherous
currents. The small islands that make the harbor are simply bare
ledges, very rough and irregular in outline. The fishing village,
also, like all others, consists of little earthen-covered hovels,
stuck down wherever a decently level spot fifteen feet square can be
found, and of fishing stages running out from every little point and
cove, in which the catch is placed to be taken care of, and alongside
of which the heavy boats can lie without danger of being smashed by
the undertow that is continually heaving against the shore.

[Storm and fog] A two days' run brought us up to Cape Harrigan,
rounding which we went into Webeck Harbor, little thinking that in
that dreary place storm and fog would hold us prisoners for five days.
That was our fate, and even now we wonder how we lived through that
dismal time.

One day served to make us familiar with the flora, fauna, geography
and geology of the region, for it was not an interesting place from a
scientific point of view, however the fishermen may regard it, and
after the departure of the mail steamer, leaving us all disappointed
in regard to mail, time dragged on us terribly.

Two or three of the more venturesome ones could get a little sport by
pulling a long four miles down to the extremity of Cape Harrigan,
where sea pigeon had a home in the face of a magnificent cliff,
against the bottom of which the gunners had to risk being thrown by
the heavy swell rolling against it, as they shot from a boat bobbing
like a cork, at "guillemots" flying like bullets from a gun out of the
face of the cliff. One evening a relief party was sent off for two who