Papa took up an oar and side-rowed the boat, pulling us to within a few feet of what had been a wharf, built and abandoned some years back by the quarry workers who had plumbed this island for the granite. He then drew a broad plank from the Posy’s aft and lay it across the gap of water between the boat and the rock wharf. Having secured the plank, he stepped up to the makeshift bridge and crossed it, swaying as the boat released his weight, causing the water to slap against the rocks. He beckoned me, and I put my hand on Mr. Coates’s shoulder and lightly stepped across to Papa’s waiting hands. I climbed past him up higher onto the enormous square-cut boulders that still held the plan of the wharf, though many had tumbled off and down, upending, so I could see the deep gauges where the men had cut into the rock, the thin lines still left by the iron nails that had split the rock face open.

I watched below me the spectacle of my mother’s struggle between her pride and her fear. She turned stony in her concentration, her jaw set and jutting. Gaining the plank, Mr. Coates held on to her hand as she edged out over the water and Papa’s hand reached to grab hers as soon as she neared him. There was coming the moment when Mama would have to drop the old pilot’s supporting hand in order to move forward to grab Papa’s, but I saw that she could not. Hovering over the few feet of water, her arms stretched between the two men, my mother appeared stricken into place.

“My love,” Papa whispered. His eyes on hers, he waited.

Mr. Coates let her go. She shut her eyes and walked, and Papa’s hands were on her elbows, leading her to him like a small child. But the next instant, she turned to the man in the boat, smiled her kindest smile, and squared her shoulders. Blood surged into my face, the front line to the quick jab of shame I felt as I turned from the finale of this drama. Mama’s strength was a thing put on or taken off, depending on my father’s nearness: I had watched the swift shift in her face at the sound of Papa’s approach, a bright, determined shield replacing blank, I thought.