"I had only time to plunge forward and clutch a jagged rock, when a mighty wave swept in, nearly tearing me from my place; but this time I held fast, and when the wave had receded I clambered up out of further danger, and there I lay, too utterly exhausted to move until dawn.
"I had hoped that daylight would reveal the presence of my companion; but the sun struggled up over a lone stretch of rocky, barren shore—nothing living was visible. I strained my eyes, gazing out over the long line of breakers. It was a fruitless quest; I was alone.
"Then I climbed up to the table-land. A sandy plain, broken by patches of sage-brush and thickets of chapparal was before me, and out toward the rising sun rose a lofty chain of mountains, as though to shut me out from all the world.
"I walked around the promontory and along the coast for several miles, still hoping I might find my friend; in vain. I shouted repeatedly; no answer. So with a heavy heart I turned and walked inland.
"After assuaging my thirst at a cavity in the rocks, where the rain-water had collected, and satisfying my hunger with the eggs of a wild fowl, the nest of which I found near a sage-brush, I continued my explorations inland toward a pass which seemed to open in the mountains toward the east.
"As I neared the glen, trees, a brook, and a flock of sheep became visible. Then, to my great delight, a house showed through the trees; and when a woman appeared in the doorway, I hurried forward and addressed her in Spanish, to which she replied in the same tongue.
"I told my story of shipwreck, and the kind-hearted peasant woman bade me welcome to the humble dwelling, and proceeded to set before me a repast of omelet and frijoles. While I was still seated at the table, her husband, Pedro, came in from herding his flock, and we soon were on our way to the village to make inquiries regarding my lost friend and the crew of the Lapwing. But nothing could be learned of them; so I retired to rest, and that night slept the dreamless sleep of sheer exhaustion.
"In the morning I renewed the search, but with no better results; and although I traveled along the coast for more than a score of miles, nothing could be found but the bodies of three sailors that I recognized as having been among the crew of the ill-fated ship. At last, weary and heart-sore, I joined a party of miners, and proceeded to San Francisco; but as my inquiries there also proved fruitless, I immediately went to the diggings, where my fortunes soon mended, and I was able to send a small purse to honest Pedro.
"During my stay in the mines I had frequent letters from home, and sister Amy expressed great sorrow at the fate of my noble friend Roger; but I wrote that it might yet be possible he was living, and we still hoped on. The greatest comfort to me, however, were the letters from Mary, who urged me to return and not wait to acquire more gold; and as my luck was 'jes powerful,' as the miners averred, I found at the end of two years I had saved $50,000, and deciding to 'let well-enough alone,' set sail for home.
"As we were sailing out through the now world-renowned Golden Gate, the captain, to whom I had just intrusted my money, remarked that I did not seem to enter into the spirit of joy that pervaded the throng of returning miners; and in reply to his look of inquiry and tone of interest, I said that the last time I was on a ship I had witnessed a terrible storm, in which the vessel was wrecked, the crew and a dear, kind friend were lost, and I alone was saved; and now the sight of the ocean, once again, recalled it all so vividly that I was sad and grieved, even in the hour when I should rejoice that all my toil was over. I was too affected to talk further, but looked wistfully out over the cruel sea that had closed over Roger, my best and truest friend.