a monument of Scotch granite to the Union dead and at least four churches.
When she encountered a matron wheeling a baby carriage, Diana inquired about hotels and was told that the Robinson House had been operating as an inn for more than sixty-five years.
“Are you alone, miss?” The woman’s nose twitched with suspicion.
“I’ve been ... delayed in meeting someone.”
The woman eyed Diana’s gripsack. Disapproval creased an otherwise pleasant countenance into an unappealing expression.
Diana sighed. She’d forgotten how straitlaced small towns could be. “Perhaps I will just wait at the depot.” There was still time to catch the train.
The baby’s fussing distracted its mother. “Perhaps you’d best,” she said, clearly dismissing Diana from her thoughts as she bent to tend to the infant.
She walked back to the dock at a fast clip. By the time she got there, the Miss Min was no more than a speck in the distance, indistinguishable from other vessels, and it would not be returning for hours yet.
Waiting, doing nothing more productive than twiddling her thumbs, did not sit well with Diana. “You there,” she called, addressing an old man mending a fishing net. “Where can I find a boat to hire?”
Repeated inquiries along the fringe of shoreline, where shipbuilders, carriage makers, stonemasons, and carpenters plied their trades, eventually led her to a fifteen-year-old boy with a sailboat just big enough to hold two people. For a fee—half the money Diana had brought with her—young Caleb Reed agreed to take her to Keep Island. Diana didn’t give herself time to change her mind. Somewhat awkwardly, she climbed into the small craft and they were on their way.
“Is it a good day for sailing?” she asked as he headed out into the channel.
“Finest kind.”
Diana knew nothing of sailboats, although she thought one steered with something called a “tiller,” but she had sense enough to hang on to her hat with one hand and edge of her seat with the other when Caleb performed a practiced maneuver to avoid running into a buoy. For a terrifying moment before it righted itself, the small craft seemed to Diana to be on the verge of flipping over.
“Why was that in our way?” she asked when she’d caught her breath. To her mind, the buoy appeared to be more hazard than aid to navigation.
“Marks a sawdust bar.” At her blank look, he added, “They build up in the river from all the ships that sail past here loaded with lumber from the saw mills in Bangor.”
Diana frowned. “The Penobscot seems too narrow here for much traffic.”
Caleb chuckled and jerked his head to indicate that she should look behind her at what she’d assumed was the opposite shore. “That there’s an island. See up on that rise?” He pointed to the higher ground beyond and the formidable structure that surmounted it. “That there’s Fort Knox. That’s where the far side of the river is.”
The way widened quickly and soon spilled out into Penobscot Bay. As land on both sides slipped farther and farther away, Diana became increasingly uneasy. “Must we stray so far from land?”
“Can’t swim, eh?”
She felt herself pale. “No.”
“Me, neither.” The cheerful unconcern in his voice was not reassuring.
The open water was dotted with sails, both white and gray, and the smokestacks of steamers great and small. To take her mind off how tiny Caleb’s sailboat was, she asked if all the islands were inhabited.
“Some yes, some no. My uncle says there are over 500 of them in Penobscot Bay. Little ones only a half acre in size. One big enough to hold two whole towns.”
“And Keep Island?”
“I expect that’s one of the littler ones.”
At the note of doubt in his voice, Diana’s eyes narrowed. “You do know where you’re going?”
“Don’t you worry. I sailed past it once before on the way to Rockport. Uncle Ralph pointed it out as being Mr. Somener’s island. Didn’t pay it much mind back
When she encountered a matron wheeling a baby carriage, Diana inquired about hotels and was told that the Robinson House had been operating as an inn for more than sixty-five years.
“Are you alone, miss?” The woman’s nose twitched with suspicion.
“I’ve been ... delayed in meeting someone.”
The woman eyed Diana’s gripsack. Disapproval creased an otherwise pleasant countenance into an unappealing expression.
Diana sighed. She’d forgotten how straitlaced small towns could be. “Perhaps I will just wait at the depot.” There was still time to catch the train.
The baby’s fussing distracted its mother. “Perhaps you’d best,” she said, clearly dismissing Diana from her thoughts as she bent to tend to the infant.
She walked back to the dock at a fast clip. By the time she got there, the Miss Min was no more than a speck in the distance, indistinguishable from other vessels, and it would not be returning for hours yet.
Waiting, doing nothing more productive than twiddling her thumbs, did not sit well with Diana. “You there,” she called, addressing an old man mending a fishing net. “Where can I find a boat to hire?”
Repeated inquiries along the fringe of shoreline, where shipbuilders, carriage makers, stonemasons, and carpenters plied their trades, eventually led her to a fifteen-year-old boy with a sailboat just big enough to hold two people. For a fee—half the money Diana had brought with her—young Caleb Reed agreed to take her to Keep Island. Diana didn’t give herself time to change her mind. Somewhat awkwardly, she climbed into the small craft and they were on their way.
“Is it a good day for sailing?” she asked as he headed out into the channel.
“Finest kind.”
Diana knew nothing of sailboats, although she thought one steered with something called a “tiller,” but she had sense enough to hang on to her hat with one hand and edge of her seat with the other when Caleb performed a practiced maneuver to avoid running into a buoy. For a terrifying moment before it righted itself, the small craft seemed to Diana to be on the verge of flipping over.
“Why was that in our way?” she asked when she’d caught her breath. To her mind, the buoy appeared to be more hazard than aid to navigation.
“Marks a sawdust bar.” At her blank look, he added, “They build up in the river from all the ships that sail past here loaded with lumber from the saw mills in Bangor.”
Diana frowned. “The Penobscot seems too narrow here for much traffic.”
Caleb chuckled and jerked his head to indicate that she should look behind her at what she’d assumed was the opposite shore. “That there’s an island. See up on that rise?” He pointed to the higher ground beyond and the formidable structure that surmounted it. “That there’s Fort Knox. That’s where the far side of the river is.”
The way widened quickly and soon spilled out into Penobscot Bay. As land on both sides slipped farther and farther away, Diana became increasingly uneasy. “Must we stray so far from land?”
“Can’t swim, eh?”
She felt herself pale. “No.”
“Me, neither.” The cheerful unconcern in his voice was not reassuring.
The open water was dotted with sails, both white and gray, and the smokestacks of steamers great and small. To take her mind off how tiny Caleb’s sailboat was, she asked if all the islands were inhabited.
“Some yes, some no. My uncle says there are over 500 of them in Penobscot Bay. Little ones only a half acre in size. One big enough to hold two whole towns.”
“And Keep Island?”
“I expect that’s one of the littler ones.”
At the note of doubt in his voice, Diana’s eyes narrowed. “You do know where you’re going?”
“Don’t you worry. I sailed past it once before on the way to Rockport. Uncle Ralph pointed it out as being Mr. Somener’s island. Didn’t pay it much mind back
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