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Back The Nest Save as PDF
Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright page
  3. Introduction by Will Errickson
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. TREMORS
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. SUSPICIONS
  13. 1
  14. 2
  15. 3
  16. 4
  17. 5
  18. DREAD
  19. 1
  20. 2
  21. 3
  22. 4
  23. 5
  24. 6
  25. WITNESS
  26. 1
  27. 2
  28. 3
  29. ALERT
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. ENCOUNTER
  36. 1
  37. 2
  38. 3
  39. 4
  40. 5
  41. 6
  42. HAVOC
  43. 1
  44. 2
  45. 3
  46. 4
  47. 5
  48. 6
  49. SEARCH
  50. 1
  51. 2
  52. 3
  53. 4
  54. 5
  55. CLASH
  56. 1
  57. 2
  58. 3
  59. 4
  60. 5
  61. 6
  62. 7
  63. COUNTERATTACK
  64. 1
  65. 2
  66. 3
  67. 4
  68. 5
  69. 6
  70. 7
  71. VICTORY
  72. 1
  73. 2
  74. 3
  75. 4
  76. 5
  77. 6
  78. 7
  79. 8
  80. 9
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. About the Author

Elizabeth’s turn brought a poem for Peter Hubbard’s edification. It was one that had so tickled Elizabeth’s fancy she had memorized it from a book called “Cape Cod Pilot,” a Federal Writers Project back in 1937. It was attributed to an Eva Tappan of Yarmouth, and went:

“We drove the Indians out of the land

But a dire revenge the Red Men planned;

For they fastened a name to every nook

And every schoolboy with a spelling book

Will live to toil till his hair turns gray

Before he can spell them the proper way.”

Ben Dorset contributed the way old-­timers confounded newcomers who tried to start lob­stering. The natives would smile while the interlopers baited their traps with cut-­up flounders, all correct. Then the old fellows would steal the lobster catch out of the traps and send them to the bottom with their concrete sinkers after removing the float. The newcomers never could find their traps again. “And,” he chuckled, “the way you could tell when they became old-­timers was when they started to do the same to the next batch of tenderfoot that came along to lobster their waters!”

Russell Homer nodded knowledgeably. “You have to get up mighty early after your lobster. When the breeze whips up the whitecaps, you can hardly see your floats at all.” He grinned winningly. “I was always out when it was still ten-­eleven blankets cold!”

Hubbard and Bonnie both looked at him with bemused smiles. “Ten-­eleven blankets cold”—what a graphic way to describe the temperature. It would be a refreshing note on the television weather reports!

When the switchel was finished, it was time for the Task Force to break up. Separate groups formed with the goodnights. Elias Johnson and Stephen Scott considered how to bring the evacuees back to Yarkie, and which mainland officials to contact about the island’s deaths. Amos Tarbell and Ben Dorset discussed assigning the two fire trucks to a continuing patrol on High Ridge in case pockets of fire might still flare up. Peter Hubbard talked to Russell Homer about sailing him with his specimens to Chatham the next morning for a flight back to Cambridge; except for his report, his project on Yarkie was now completed.

2

TWO

After her bath, Elizabeth was slipping on her flannelette nightgown—smiling to herself that it was only “a four-­five blanket” night—when she heard the noise. It had not sounded in this house for a long time. Typing. Peter Hubbard at his report. The thought of his leaving in the morning was painful to her.

On impulse, Elizabeth opened her door and went across the hall. In the days this house was built, her conduct would have been unthinkable, but these prim walls too had to accept modern ways.

“If I’m not interrupting, I’d like to talk to you, Peter.”