The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1909-07-02
CHAPTER L.

You know Alastair? No-how should
you? Very few people know it, and l
have done my best to keep the secret to
myself. The place lies. however, not so
very far from great cities on the Attain
tic coast. You take a train nOrthward
from Boston, and when you reach the
proper station you alight and climb into
a countryman's wagon, and he drives you
through the pines by a twisting, sand
built road to Alastair. You will know it
because you can go no farther, unless you
choose to drive into the waves.
Few people come to Alastair. Most
of the travellers in this part of the world
turn off about a mile inland from the
beach and go on for another mile and a
half to the Penguin Club. The latter is
full of New Workers who come to the
pines and the sea to hunt and fish and
forget Wall Street and Fifth Avenue.
They forget it by keeping close together,
and dressing for dinner, and dancing
every other night
Alastair itself is only beach between
two great headlands. From the end
where my cottage stands. snugly hid in
the pines on the edge of the dunes, the
beach stretches smooth and white to a
little land-locked harbor at the farther
end. Sit on my porch and look down
along the sands to the east and you
will see a reef of rocks shaped like the
letter L that closes in a little salt water
lake with the aid of a distant cliff 1t
Is not quite lake. rather small in
land sea, for the tides have room to ebb
and flow. A ship is settled into the
sands of this sea. settled upright. so
that one may walk the decks, and l
often go there of an afternoon when the
tide is low and climb on board 1t is a
good place to SKETCH and | can leave
my paints and canvas in the cabin.
l stumbled across Alastair when l was
looking for a quiet place in which to
write. l found the dilapidated cottage,
camped in it for week. and fell so much
In love with the beach that | went to
town, bought the house and part of the
woods. and moved in. Charles, the man
who had served my father before me. de-
INJURED at first. but finally gave in, and
turned himself into cook. housemaid, and
valet for my sake.
From my balcony l can see the distant
rocks of the little inland sea and. stand.
ing up above Them the high sides of the
ship. and its single remaining broken
mast pointing straight to the heavens
Sometimes the stars seem to outline
where the missing spars and sails sbouIG
be, and on a bright night l can half Gloss
my eyes and fancy that see the higgins
lighted and lanterns burning on the QUAR-
ter-deck
There is history hidden in that hat
tered hulk. She is no ordinary vessel
and may once, for all know. have beer
pirate craft. She has the long chime,
lines of swiftness. and her high bulgine
bow is of a type long past When
first came to Alastair l made INQUIRE.
as to her history. but the oldest farme,
could tell me only that she had alwav.
been there so far as he knew, and dis
missed the subject as of no Importance
The people of the nearby co1ntry an
peared never to have boarded the casta
way. | felt the joys of Crusoe when
first climbed on her deck. The nam
was gone, long ago washed out by tn
sea; the deck was bare, and the ton O
the forecastle choked with sand.
brought shovel and dug away the ram
part drifted against the matches. A
last l could open the door and. clearin
the steps of what little sand had site
through, I descended into the cabin I