Her eyes filled with a kind of terror.
"Oh, you would have some boats."
"But if it happened in the night?"
"We won't go and live on an island," he said with a smile.
It was rougher going back, but not bad enough to cause any alarm. The wind had died down, but the swells were coming in. They stopped at Gloucester and took on some boxes and great planks, and several pieces of furniture.
"There's enough old truck in Salem now," declared Captain Green ungraciously. "'F I had my way I'd turn it out on the Common and put a match to it. Now there's the Hibbins—came over in 1680 and brought their housen goods. There wan't any way of makin' 'em then but just outen rough logs. An' now the old granma'am's died and 'twas her mother's, I b'lieve, and Mis' Hibbins she's just gone crazy over it. And they're buildin' a fine new house. Strange how Salem's buildin' up! Those East Ingy traders do make lots of money. But before I'd have that old truck in my nice new house!" And the captain gave a snort of disdain.
He did not dream that before another hundred years had passed there would be comparative fortunes made in the old truck.
"We'll be a little late gettin' in, but there'll be a moon. Lucky wind ain't dead agin us."
How good the supper tasted, for Cynthia was very hungry. And then they went on and on, hugging the shore, the captain said, until it was a kind of shadowy waving blur, but on the other side most beautiful. It made her think of coming from India, but she was glad to see the vague outline of the shore.
The captain was much surprised that she had been such a traveller. He had been to New York and all around Long Island, and up as far as Nova Scotia. The Bay of Fundy was wonderful, with its strange dangerous tides.