At the mouth of the river, I saw the village of the Nimkish Indians, situated on a table-land overhanging the sea, and inaccessible save by ascending a vertical cliff of smooth rock—a feat nothing but a fly could manage, unaided; but the redskins have a ladder, made of cedar-bark rope, which they can haul up and lower at will. The ladder up, the place is impregnable. Safe themselves, they can quietly bowl over their enemies, and sink their canoes. These Nimkish Indians speak of another tribe that they call Sau-kau-lutuck, who have never seen or traded with white people. Their story, as interpreted for me by Mr. Moffat, the chief trader at Fort Rupert—who told me he quite believed it to be true—was as follows:— ‘In crossing over to the west side of the island, on a war-path, the Nimkis discovered these Indians by accident, took several of them prisoners, whom they subsequently used as slaves, taking also skins, and what other property they had worth plundering. They are said to live on the edge of a lake, and subsist principally on deer and bear, and such fish as they can take in the lake. They own no canoes, neither do they know the use of firearms, their only weapons being the bow, arrow, and spear.’ The wind came on to blow as we left this interesting spot, and soon increased to a gale from the south-east, making the Otter rock most unpleasantly in the cradle of the deep. About 10 A.M. we ran into Beaver Harbour, our destination. This so-called harbour, being nothing more than an open roadstead, is disagreeably rough; a heavy sea rolls angrily in, dashing in foamy breakers on the rocky coast. We anchor about a mile from shore, the captain deeming it unsafe to venture nearer. To announce our arrival, a gun is to be fired: this, I observed, was rather a service of danger to the sailor who had to touch it off, as it was just an equal chance whether the bulk of the charge came through the barrel or the touch-hole; the latter having become so capacious from rust and long usage, as to necessitate the employment of an enormously long wand, with a piece of lighted slow-match tied to the end of it. All hands having cleared away, and carefully concealed themselves, the wand slowly appears from a secure hiding-place, and the wheezy bang proclaims ‘all’s safe.’