The City of Paul Revere
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Island, a big, hulking, rocky bit of land that reached some little elevation. There was also a third island, Gallup Island. And these three, like nuts between the extended jaws of a pair of pincers, lay between the long, tapering ends of the mainland that thrust out into the sea for miles. Behind these pincers was a great bay, practically land-locked, and filled with islands. Its coast line was cut and gashed with points and inlets. Everywhere the combers were crashing on the beaches and shining white in the morning sun. And on these islands and points, and along the shore, stood innumerable cottages, which Henry judged must be summer residences.
As the Iroquois approached George’s Island the ship was headed northwest one-half north. Now she steamed between Gallup and Lovell’s Islands, and Henry examined with interest the quarantine station on the former. Past Deer Island they went, with its huge and gloomy-looking prison and great stone walls, and past Long Island and Spectacle Island, which got its name because it is shaped not unlike a huge pair of nose-glasses. And, turning as the channel twisted, the Iroquois worked her way into the ever-narrowing mouth of the harbor, with the captain now on the bridge, conning the ship through the tortuous passage. Thompson’s