Happy Island

light smoke from Uncle William’s pipe and the cigarette that Bodet held in his finger

y spot—“They stopped here, they said—off St. Pierre, and then run along up through Placentia Bay and stopped off two-three t

l right!” said

enery and about their feelings, and so on; but I managed to make out their course—puttin’ this and t

tand it—with g

’ll bring her ’round to your back door some day, safe an

.” He gave a little puff to the cigarette and wrinkled

and rumbled a little down below—“You can’t find a much better place ’n this is, can you?” He moved his hand tow

them. “Best place in

aid Uncle William,

Now, that,” he shoved his finger at a point on the map—“That’s the farthest north I ever went.” Uncle

r ’twas going way up—they said. Seem’s if we always got stuck or got a cargo—

e, Andy—and I do’ ’no’s I’d risk taking you

’ve been,” he said

rather be right here with you and Benjy a-traveling this way—after them young things, that don’t know where they’re sailing or what kind of waters they’re comin’ to—and not t

boat,” said

st of anybody’t that time—and Captain Hall, he was for pushing on—and all of ’em, except Buddington—he was sailing master and that slow, cautious kind—no sort o’ timber to go after the North Pole with—but he said we ’d winter right there—’twas somewheres along in August then—and we run back a little to a good place—and that’s where it got its name now, ’Polaris Bay’—we was the ones that named it.” Uncle William looked at it, with the pride of possession, and rubbed his finger on it. “Well, we stayed there.... But Captain Hall—you couldn’t hold him still, and he was all the time sledgin’ off, one way and another—to see what the earth was doin’ up that way—and it run along into October—the last of the month—It all seems like yesterday,” said Uncle William slowly.... “I was a young fellow, you see—not more ’n twenty-two-three, and I’d left Jennie down here, and gone up there—so’s to make money faster.”—His eye traveled about the red room... and came back to the map... “and there we was, settin’ down up there—waitin’ for winter and not a whale in sight—and then, all of a sudden, before you could say Jack Robinson—Captain Hall die

om looking out. When he turned about, his eyes were shining—like

here waitin’ for ye and needin’ ye, it’s more homier than any of ’em.” Andy got slowly to his feet. “Harr’et’s waitin’ for me,” h

ncle William. “I was thinkin’ of going down to look after

t,” said Andy, “

path below. “He’s a good boy,” said Uncle William. “He ’ll stan’ a lo

d indifferently to the door and passed out—as if a summon