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Suddenly there came the squeaking of blocks and the rattle and

scrape of rings as foresails were rushed up at peak and throat.

Headsails raced into position, and, with the anchors cat-headed;

the vessels, with their captains at the wheels or tillers, swung

into the wind and began to crawl ahead.

Behind them, as they forged toward the passage, lay the gray

scimitar of stony beach half a mile long. Beyond it were the

white, contented-looking cottages built along the road, and back

of all rose the vivid green mountains, covered with pine,

tamarack, and silver birch, above whose tops at the line of the

summit there appeared three terrific, puffy thunder-heads.

As they moved toward Flag Point the gaily colored crowds moved

with them past the post-office, the stores, the burned wharfs,

and the fish stands.