Oct. 16 – Haven calling this morning, and some dozen jays. A flock of honkers passed. Our Kake friends set out for Wrangel. Push canoe into water, walking over rough stones with bare feet. Noticed an island with every tree blown down, and a hopeful crop of young ones springing up to take their places. Raining, even mass of gray in sky. Wind ah-ing in the noble swaying trees. {Sketch: Rock islets, moutoneed, and striated. Dir. Of Striae as above. S.W. corner of Kupreanof Island.”} After taking down tents the wind shifted round to the north and rain fell faster. We concluded to take the advice of our Ind[ian]s and remain in camp. John, Charley, and Mr. Young went off a-hunting. I strolled along the beach to observe. Found the whol...