By my side my friend, the Tamal, Stood and gazed upon the Sea Gulls. Long he gazed in deep abstraction, Then he said, "They still are searching, Still are calling to Ah-we-a. Would you know the Tamal legend Of Ah-we-a and the Sea Gulls? Know you, then, that these blue waters Were not always calm and peaceful. Once the Sea King, grim and moody, Held his court within this harbor-- Held his carnivals of beauty, And his wild and stormy revels. In the cove of Sausalito, Where the houses of the paleface Terrace on the wooded hillside And the sailboats ride at anchor, Lived a tribe of fisher people, Building homes among the crannies Of the rocks upon the bayshore, Fishing in the harbor waters From their light canoes of redwood-- Fishing boldly in defiance Of the Sea King's fitful anger At the raiding of his Kingdom And the slaughter of his subjects. Oft the Sea King, in reprisal, Lashed the harbor with his west wind Till the breakers leaped in frenzy, Overturning boats and claiming Many fishermen as victims. Those who clung in desperation To their boats and reached the mainland Told the tale of their encounter With the Sea King in the tempest. Through the smother of the surges, Through the driving rain and fog-banks, Came the Sea King's boat upon them, Drawn by floundering sea horses With their manes of seafoam curling From the prow and backward trailing. Through the mist they saw it faintly, As a ghostly apparition, Riding down upon the billows-- Phantom ship, at times transparent, White or gray--to ride them over; Racing nearer, nearer, nearer, Then dissolving into vapor; Or, at times, it darted past them. Giving glimpses through the fog-banks Of the Furies at the paddles, Bending, dipping, throwing surges From their mighty magic paddles, While the wake of foaming waters Seethed and boiled in whirlpool currents. Long the warfare had continued. Fishermen must live by fishing, And the Sea King claimed his victims Through a strategy of cunning, Seeking ever to beguile them To the sea to work his vengeance. When day dawned in rosy splendor Calm and still the harbor waters As a sea of purple satin, Only wrinkled into ruffles, Ever widening in a circle Where the fishes leaped the surface. Fishermen with song and laughter, Waved farewell to wives and children, Paddled off into the silence; Then, without a sign of warning, Gales arose and lashed the harbor Till the waters writhed and tumbled, Wave on wave, in thundering tumult; And the Sea King, in his anger, Dashed the boats, o'erturned and empty, High upon the rocky seashore At the feet of wailing women.