“We want to go over as soon as we may,” Polly said. “How far is it?”
Tom pointed to the opposite shore of the bay, about midway between the Point and the hotel.
“It’s right over yonder, where the beach looks flat all to once, then it hunches up into a big knob of land. It isn’t a whole island. There’s a ridge of land joins it on the main shore. It’s a good beach for sail boats. There’s five of them all together, and father’s got a lot more. He rents them for the season to the cottage folks along shore. He owns a sloop, too, and he lets that out to folks who want to sail clear out to the banks and fish. And Nancy has her own boat too.”
“Who is Nancy?” asked Ted.
“My sister,” Tom’s head lifted a trifle higher than ordinary, as he said it. It was easy to see the estimation he had of Nancy. “They’ve got a junior yacht club over at the Orienta, and not one in the lot can sail as well as Nancy. Look over there.”
Around the shore at the inlet came a trim catboat, tacking and beating down across the bay as a puff of wind hit her as easily as a gull swerves from its course.
“That’s Nancy,” Tom said proudly. “She’s been over to the village, most likely, for mother. She don’t like the walk around the shore road. Guess she’s bringing back something from my aunt’s.”
“How old is she?” Isabel’s tone was quite respectful, as she watched the single figure in the boat, just a mere dark speck, half hidden by the sail.
“Thirteen. I’m going on sixteen. We look after things at Fair Havens while father’s on duty down at the Point.”
“Is he a real life-saver?” asked Polly, eagerly.