"The river
Mr. Gray mentioned," says Vancouver, "should be south of Cape
Disappointment. This we passed on the forenoon of the 27th; and if any
inlet or river be found, it must be a {270} very intricate one,
inaccessible . . . owing to reefs and broken water. . . . I was
thoroughly convinced, as were most persons on board, that we could not
possibly have passed any cape . . . from Mendocino to Classet
(Flattery)."
Keen to prove that no Northeast Passage existed by way of the Straits
of Fuca, Vancouver headed inland, close to the south shore, where
craggy heights offered some guidance through the labyrinth of islands
and fog. Eight miles inside the straits he anchored for the night.
The next morning the sun rose over one of the fairest scenes of the
Pacific coast--an arm of the sea placid as a lake, gemmed by countless
craggy islands. On the land side were the forested valleys rolling in
to the purple folds of the mountains; and beyond, eastward, dazzling as
a huge shield of fire in the sunrise, a white mass whiter than the
whitest clouds, swimming aerially in mid-heaven.
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