Our Captain's voice boomed above the roar of the surf. "Heave about! Turn the ship!"
With a mighty jolt a rock took our rudder and punched a hole in her hull. The Frolic was sinking and none of us knew how to swim! Captain Faucon, bless him, barked his orders as the ship kept turnin' into the rocks. Finally the sails caught the wind and he beached her in the cove.
The Captain, officers and most of us mates rowed off into the night. Our boat leaked faster that we could bail. We were in danger of our lives so the Captain left us at the mouth of a big river. He and his officers took the good boat and rowed on.
I never saw the Captain again, though there's more to the story. Our magnificent cargo of silks, ceramics, and bottles of ale, brought all the way from China and beyond, became treasure for Pomo people and new settlers for miles around.
Eventually, a man named Ford made his way to the wreck, but found nothing to salvage. Instead, he discovered another kind of treasure: the huge old trees grown' along the river to the south.
Narration based on archeological reports and materials. Visit the Lighthouse Museum for More Information on the Frolic