THE LONELY REEF
bushes here and there; bayberry, probably, and sweet-gale; and in one place, not far from the Wanderer's unquiet anchorage, a ledge cropped a few feet above the sand. Gulls fluttered over the island, but they constituted the only signs of life.
"What do you make of it, Chatty?" asked Cochran, gunner's mate, ranging alongside. Nelson shook his head. "Doesn't look as if we'd come all this way to picnic on the beach, does it?" He looked around in all directions. "Where are we? That's what I'd like to know. We've been pretty well over these waters for a week or so, but I'll swear to goodness I never saw that cheerful looking reef before."
"Nor I," said Nelson. "It must be one of the Elizabeths, don't you think?"
"No, I know the whole bunch: Nonamesset, Uncatena, Naushon, Pasque and Nashawena, Cuttyhunk and Penikese. Sounds like something out of Longfellow, don't it? 'Hiawatha,' maybe. No, we're further from New Bedford than any of those. We didn't drop anchor until about four bells, and we were doing fourteen most of the time. There's some sand banks like that—" he nodded at the desolate expanse before them—"south of the Vineyard, I've heard. They get
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