The Island Horse (3 page)

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.”