“For my part,” announced Frances, “I hope it doesn’t. We have been too lucky, always doing just what we set out to do. With the exception of turning over at Plymouth, everything has happened according to Hoyle.”
“Well, we will see if we can’t arrange a little shipwreck for the bloodthirsty lady from the wild and woolly west,” laughed Jack.
At sunset the “Boojum” was nosing her way through a little group of islands, lying purple on the dark water. To port lay the largest, its rocky cliffs taking on weird lights from the sinking sun.
Jane caught her breath in a little gasp of admiration. Reaching for the chart, she quickly found their whereabouts. “Mr. Wing,” she called excitedly, “this is just too lovely a spot to pass. The chart says it’s Hurricane Island and dead ahead is Old Harbor. Can’t we stop here tonight instead of going on to Vinal Haven. Old Harbor ought to be a good anchorage. It is protected on three sides by these islands.”
“Why Plain Jane, as far as I am concerned, we can. The others are an easy-going bunch and generally want to do whatever anybody suggests. Let me see the chart.”
Jane hung over him until he nodded his head in approval of the harbor’s description on the chart and then dashed forward to free the anchor.
“Oh! Breck, did you ever in your life see anything quite as beautiful as that big island with the sun slipping down back of it?” she asked him as he leaned against the foremast, looking out for buoys.
“I am mighty glad you asked Mr. Wing to anchor here tonight. I was just thinking that was just what I would do if I were on my own boat.”
“Can you tell whether those purplish humps on the island are houses or just huge boulders? It seems a funny place for a settlement and, besides, there isn’t a single light in any of the windows if they are houses and not rocks,” asked Jane, peering into the fast-gathering darkness.