Hauling
the wounded man in the boat, the whites rowed for dear life. The
Indians then launched their canoes to pursue, but by this time Gray had
the cannon of the _Lady Washington_ trained ashore, and three shots
drove the hostiles scampering. For two days tide and wind and a
thundering surf imprisoned Gray in Murderers' Harbor, where he had
hoped to find the River of the West, but met only danger. All night
the savages kept up their howling; but on the third day the wind
veered. All sails set, the sloop scudded for the offing, glad to keep
some distance between herself and such a dangerous coast.
The advantage of a small boat now became apparent. In the same
quarter, Cook was compelled to keep out from the coast, and so reported
there were no Straits of Fuca. By August 21 the sloop was again close
enough to the rocky shore to sight the snowy, opal {223} ranges of the
Olympus Mountains. By August 26 they had passed the wave-lashed rocks
of Cape Flattery, and the mate records; "I am of opinion that the
Straits of Fuca exist; for in the very latitude they are said to lie,
the coast takes a bend, probably the entrance.
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