The Island Horse

by Susan Hughes

  But his words did not comfort Ellie. She had lost so much already. Out here, surrounded only by sky and sea, she feared it could happen again.

  Chapter Four

  It was twilight. Ellie had been tired, windswept. She had sat down, wedged among some massive coils of rope at the bow, and she had fallen asleep.

  Now her father was gently shaking her. “Ellie, Ellie, darling. It’s Sable Island. We’ve arrived! Look!”

  She saw the sliver of Sable Island appear out of nowhere in the dark sea. Slender and slight. A crescent floating in the blue. Almost nothing. Tantalizingly close.

  They sailed on, drew nearer, and Ellie could see the shore. The surf was a white line being drawn across the beach, again and again.

  The sailors furled the sails and then went no closer; the ship dropped anchor. Ellie thought, They’re acting as if the island is a wild horse, as if it can lift its head, toss its mane and whirl away. Gone.

  “Sable doesn’t have a harbor where the Eagle can dock, so we must anchor out here,” Ellie’s father explained.

  Ellie saw lanterns waving on the shore, many dark figures moving busily. “They’ll come to get us,” her father said. “Look, they’re launching a smaller boat to get us and the supplies being delivered — a surfboat, small but strong and stout enough to put out into this heavy surf.”

  Ellie waited and watched, and now there was a small boat approaching, two men rowing it with great strength. The boat drew alongside the Eagle, and there were cries of welcome. Hands grabbed at lines thrown up.

  Now her father was lifting Ellie, passing her over the side of the schooner. The arms of an Islander reached up from the surfboat below, caught her, held her. “Hello to you, missy, and welcome,” he said. “The sea is a little rough this evening, but we’ll get you landed in no time, never fear!”

  But Ellie was shivering, adrift between ship and shore. The sailor with the hook muttered curses from above: “These waves want to dash us all to pieces!”

  Her father lowered himself down into the boat, bringing one of their bags, and several of the sailors came aboard as well. Then the surfboat was set loose, and it lurched toward Sable, the waves high and surging.

  Ellie’s father held her tightly, an arm around her shoulders. The Islanders rowed, moving with the waves, trying to keep pointed toward the shore. Quickly the surfboat neared the beach, and then it surged forward at an alarming clip, sped along by the rushing urgency of a huge wave. The boat perched high on its crest, just balanced. It felt like flying, to Ellie.

  The crew stopped rowing and rode the wave expertly. They were poised, alert, ready. The boat raced up onto the beach, delivered by the wave. Its bottom hit sand and skidded, spray dousing the passengers. Ellie’s eyes were full of salt tears.

  Immediately, before the forward momentum had even stopped, the two rowers leapt out and into the shallows, grabbing hold of the sides of the surfboat. The wave that had shot them forward onto land might drag at them, pull them back to sea in its powerful undertow. The men were digging in their heels, leaning hard toward land. Four more Islanders, ready waiting on the beach, had rushed out to help. They, too, were pulling on the surfboat, leaning, hauling again and again. Together the six men dragged the boat farther up the beach. It was as if this were a ballet and their movements had been practiced over and over.

  Then there was more sand under them than water. And now, only sand. The boat was finally beyond the reach of the waves. Ellie realized that it was no use imagining they might never arrive. They were really landing.

  There was a small gathering of other men on the beach, waiting with lanterns lit. They called out greetings. And then Ellie, from her seat in the boat, thought she saw someone standing alone, someone well back from the others. A woman? — no, a girl! — standing on the beach, watching. Ellie saw a blue skirt billowing like a sail. Hair whipping about. Then — did it really happen? — the girl raised her arms. Slowly she twirled away across the sand and was gone. And it was as if she had never been there at all.

  Chapter Five

  “Ellie, we’re here,” her father said, squeezing her shoulder. “We made it.”

  The faces around her were smiling, welcoming.

  All Ellie wanted was to turn and go home. But her father’s arm was around her, helping her out. So Ellie reluctantly stepped from the boat. The heel of her right boot touched the sand first. Then the heel of her left stood her on the beach.

  My home is not on this island. This will never be my home.

  The wind lashed her hair across her face. The sand blew into her eyes. Her tears were flying away to sea, and she tucked in her chin as she and her father walked up from the shore.

  Darkness was falling. The voices of the men holding the lanterns were friendly. “How was your journey, then?” “We’ll bring the rest of your things ashore in the morning.” “So what’s the news from over there?”

  Ellie kept her eyes down.

  They made their way toward a collection of buildings, the Main Station. A tall, heavyset man approached them, holding out his hand. “We’re pleased you’ve come, Mr. Harriott. I’m Superintendent Hodgson.”

  Ellie’s father and the man shook hands. “Call me Andrew. Pleased to be here. Thank you for the job, sir.”

  “Ah, you’ll earn your pay, I expect!” Superintendent Hodgson chuckled.

  “This is my daughter, Ellie.” Ellie’s father put his hands on her shoulders, squeezed them gently.

  “Ah, yes.” Superintendent Hodgson shifted the lantern so its light fell on Ellie. “Another young lass,” he remarked.

  “Young but soon to be ten,” Ellie’s father replied proudly.

  “Well, then.” Hodgson gave a quick nod. Then he swung the lantern back in front, and they walked on together.

  “So, Andrew, you and your daughter will spend the night here with us at Main Station. Tomorrow Henry will take you both to Station Two. That’s where you’ll live. It’s a fair-sized house. Two bedrooms, a large kitchen with a generous fireplace. There’s a surfboat there, too, to take to rescues down your way, and a flagstaff, for signaling. We built the second station because it’s impossible to patrol the whole coast of the island from one location. Here at Main Station, we’re at the western tip of the island on the north shore. The second station — yours — is farther east, but not as far as the middle. We hope to have even more stations in time, still farther east.”

  “I see, sir,” responded Ellie’s father.

  Ellie’s head was spinning with fatigue. Her stomach grumbled with hunger as they climbed up from the beach.

  “Don’t worry. We’re starting you slowly.” The superintendent lifted his lantern high, casting a long glow. “Let you get used to the place and our ways. We still need to build a lookout tower for you there. Then we’ll add some more houses. Get some more men out there, who can patrol with Station Two as their base. But all in good time, all in good time. For now, as you know, it’s just you.”

  Ellie glanced at her father. They would be all alone at the station?

  But her father didn’t seem surprised. “Yes, sir.”

  “What we really need is a lighthouse,” one of the other men walking with them grumbled. “That would help save some lives, prevent some wrecks.”

  “Yes, well, we can dream,” Hodgson allowed. He thumped his hand on Ellie’s father’s back. “Anyhow, here we are.” They had reached the small collection of buildings. “Come down and sign some papers when you’re settled.”

  This is the Main Station? Ellie thought with surprise. It’s far smaller than our own little village.

  The superintendent’s house was two stories high, and their room was up on the second story. They pushed open the door. Two small cots. A washstand with a jug of water, a basin and a washcloth. A little window. Ellie looked out. She felt as if she was up in a
tree, sitting on the branches, or perhaps at the top of a hill overlooking the sea, like the hilltop near their home …

  Her father lit two candles, set down their bag. “I’m going to sign those papers. I’ll be back quick as a wink. And we’ll have some supper.”

  Ellie wasn’t hungry anymore. Just sad. And tired.

  She washed her hands, neck and face. She rested the washcloth against her forehead. Sat on the edge of the cot.

  There was a picture on the wall: a herd of wild horses, manes flying, facing into the wind on a sand dune.

  Wild horses. There are wild horses here, Ellie remembered. But why does that make me feel like crying?

  She closed her eyes.

  A sudden knock at the door startled her. She staggered up to open it.

  It was the girl from the beach. Ellie knew instantly. The same blue dress. Her hair now in untidy braids. Oh, and she has freckles. And a pointy chin. The girl looked about the same age as herself, maybe a little older. She is real! thought Ellie.

  The girl held a tray of food and a pot of tea, leaning it against the door frame.

  “Hullo. Let me come in, please,” she ordered, pushing past Ellie. “This is heavy.” She set the tray down with a jolt on one of the cots. The tea sloshed from the spout, splashed onto the plate of cold meat. “Oops, sorry.”

  Ellie stared at the girl, thinking, There are wild horses here, and children. Or at least a girl, anyway. This girl.

  Then a voice called from below, and the girl, hearing it, raised her eyebrows and dramatically heaved a sigh. For a moment she returned Ellie’s stare, and then she said, “Have you never seen a girl? Did you think there would be nothing here on Sable but seals, sand and wild horses?”

  She grinned suddenly and made a silly face. “Hope you’re not disappointed! Must go now, that’s my mother calling.” Then she stretched out her arms, one pointing ahead of her, one drifting behind. She rose up on her tiptoes, swept across the room, and was gone.

  After closing the door, Ellie sat back down on the edge of the cot uncertainly. Had she just been teased or welcomed?

  Before long, Ellie’s father returned. They ate their supper quickly. Night had fallen now. And when Ellie fell asleep, her special quilt hugging her, she dreamed of an island girl with open arms — or was it a fairy? — and wild horses flying across the sand.

  Chapter Six

  It was morning, Ellie’s first on Sable Island. Her father’s cot was empty.

  She went to the window. There was the collection of buildings they had seen last night. Now she saw outhouses and a barn. A garden. Ten or more cows and several horses in a fenced yard. Some pigs in a pen.

  Near the barn, men saddled up horses, shouting good-naturedly to one another. Preparing for patrolling the beach, she guessed. On the edge of the compound, clothes were hanging on a line, flapping in the strong breeze.

  There was the sea, just beyond the compound, and the Eagle anchored. The waves were not high this morning. Six men were hauling a wooden rescue boat out to sea through the surf. Ellie watched as they jumped in and began rowing against the incoming surge of the waves. They had to row hard to make progress. A black dog stood on the beach, barking at them.

  Ellie’s eye traveled back past the laundry line, across the flat expanse of nothingness, toward the tip of the island. Another two-story building was there. It was wide, with curtains hanging at every upper window, one after another, sharing a long balcony. Were they bedrooms? It looked lonely out there, and empty, too. Was it a hospital? Or maybe a home where sick people might live until they recovered?

  Ellie’s heart ached.

  And so she looked beyond it and saw where the narrow island became narrower, sharpened to a point, like a pencil. Saw where the breakers were crashing onto the pointy tip. Beyond, the island vanished. There, the sea took over.

  She didn’t want to be here.

  It smelled salty, like home, but the smell was stronger, as if there were more salt than air. As if there were more sea than island.

  The door to their room opened, and her father came in. “Good morning, Ellie!” He joined her at the window. “How’s my girl?”

  She struggled to answer. She felt sadness at leaving home, but anger that her father would bring her here, to this place.

  “Fine,” she said, pretending, unable to look at him.

  Her father stood beside her for a moment. He cleared his throat as if to speak, but then was silent. Together they looked out the window.

  Then he put his arm around her shoulders, gave her a quick hug. “I’ve just had a short tour around,” he told Ellie. He pointed to one of the six small buildings clustered near them. “That’s the oil house, where the oil from the seals is processed. You know, many, many seals live near Sable Island throughout the year, coming ashore once in a while. In winter, the females pup and raise their young by the hundreds, by the thousands. The men must go on sealing excursions. They hunt the seals and then cut up the fat for oil. We’ll use it in our lamps.”

  Her father pointed at the other buildings in turn. “That’s a storehouse. And those two are as well. That one is quarters for some of the men, and two families share that one.”

  He pointed to two buildings closer to the beach. “Boathouses.” He pointed to the two-story building toward the island’s tip. “Sailor’s Home. Where the shipwrecked stay until they can leave on the sailing ship for Halifax.”

  Anger tore through Ellie. So the building wasn’t for sick people, dying people. It was for the shipwrecked, who at least got to leave here. “I want to leave, too!” she longed to shout at her father. But instead she pulled away from him and went to their bag, as if she needed something buried deep inside.

  “I’ve loaded our other things into a cart — it’s in the barn. Once you’re dressed and we’ve had a bite to eat, one of the men will take us on our way.”

  “All right,” she mumbled.

  Ellie’s father waited outside as she dressed, and then they went downstairs together to eat. There was a long wooden table down the center of the mess room, still cluttered with the remains of the men’s breakfast. Against the wall were a stove with a bubbling pot and two worktables covered with jars, breads, bowls, washbasins and other utensils.

  A woman standing at the stove turned. Over her brown dress, with its rolled-up sleeves and its long, full skirt, she wore a white apron with splotches of flour. Her hair, pinned up, had flour in it as well. “Good morning,” she greeted them brightly. “You’re the newcomers, I expect. Mr. Harriott — and Ellie, right? Come and sit down.”

  She was the first woman Ellie had met since leaving home, a lifetime ago. This alone seemed enough to bring back Ellie’s mother to her — her laugh, her voice, her smell — and then snatch her away again.

  “Morning,” Ellie’s father replied, smiling pleasantly. “Yes, I’m Andrew Harriott, and this is my daughter, Ellie. Pleased to meet you. Sorry to trouble you. Feeding us separate like this, when everyone else has already eaten.”

  “Oh, no, sit down, sit down,” the woman insisted. She began ladling porridge into two bowls. “No trouble at all. It can be hard the first morning, to adjust and all.” She looked at Ellie, and Ellie, avoiding her gaze, ducked her head. “I’m Laura Chimes. I do all the cooking here.” Ellie stared at the wooden slats of the table, unable to reply.

  “Here, have some milk. And here’s sugar. There’s biscuits and butter, too, if you like.” Mrs. Chimes pointed to each, set in the middle of the table. “Help yourselves.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” said Ellie’s father.

  “Go on, then. Eat it while it’s warm.” As they ate, Mrs. Chimes chatted pleasantly, chopping vegetables and dropping them into a pot of simmering soup. She told them about Station Two, where they would be living. “You’ll be needing someone to help give you a hand with
things, ’til you get settled. Show you where to look for crabs and lobsters. Show you the berry patches — oh, we do well with strawberries, blueberries, cranberries — how to can, how to put in a garden. There’s a bit of a garden planted there, at your station, but it might need some weeding.” She carried a teapot to the table and poured some tea for Ellie’s father, and then for Ellie. “It’s a little bit of a place, our island, and there’s not much that grows on sand! Not many crops, that’s for certain. We can grow some timothy hay for the cattle, though. And we mow and bring in the wild hay, too.”

  Something caught Ellie’s eye. Or was it someone, just beyond the mess room doorway?

  “Sometimes we grow potatoes — small ones — and other root vegetables. Turnips, cabbages, red beets, corn, if they’re sheltered. You’ll want to do some fishing, and perhaps shoot some ducks, as well.” Mrs. Chimes nodded at Ellie’s father, who sipped his tea. “We have to get our flour, oats, rice and beans by schooner, when it comes!”

  Suddenly Ellie glimpsed a swirl of braids. The girl pirouetted from one side of the doorway to the other. Her arms were held tight to her chest. She twirled and then was gone.

  “Maybe you’ll hunt seals with the men in the winter, too. You can use the oil for your lamps, you know. The extra we sell to the mainland.”

  Ellie’s father winked at Ellie. Is it because he’s seen the twirling girl? Ellie worried. But no, the wink was because he’d told her about the oil only this morning, she decided. Because he wants me to feel like this is a new adventure that we are having together.

  The girl was still a secret, then, Ellie realized, pleased.

  “All done, Ellie?” her father asked, rising from the table. And as Ellie got up, she now thought she saw the girl flit across the doorway again.

  “Thank you for the fine breakfast, Mrs. Chimes,” her father said.

  “Thank you,” Ellie echoed.

  Mrs. Chimes stood at the stove, stirring the soup. “The two of you, living alone out there …” She paused. “Perhaps you might come in regularly, once a week or so, to have dinner with the other men. Two of them have their families here. There are five young children in all.”