for ourcamping trip: The weather had broken, and Mother Ryan fastened our oilskins on a rain-smeared morning. Joe greeted us at the jetty.
âYouâre late. Thatâs a bad beginning to the term.â
âNo more than five minutes,â Paddy said. âLiza had her kittens in the night. Joe, sheâs got five, and we saw the last one born! Two black-and-white, two tortoiseshell, and one a funny gray color. Weâre calling it Smoky.â
That had been my suggestion. It was usually Paddy who thought of names, always Paddy who decided what the name was going to be.
Joe said, âNever mind cats and kittens. Cast off, Ben. Iâve done a dayâs work before you were stirring, and anotherâs waiting.â
The dinghy smelled of the catch he had landed earlier, a tang of fish mixed with salt and sweat and tobacco. Joe was almost as tall as the Master, and broader, with a battered face and a big nose and thick black beard. He set sail to catch the stiff northwesterly, and we heaved our way across the bay with gusts of rain stinging our faces. I glanced surreptitiously at Paddy. I had got over being seasick,but she still suffered occasionally. She seemed all right this morning.
I looked back toward the house, where smoke rose from two small chimneys at the north end and a larger one at the south. The Master would be sitting by his study fire, drinking the coffee Mother Ryan took him about this time. Iâd never tasted coffeeâit was not for the likes of us, Mother Ryan saidâbut loved the smell. Perhaps he would be reading one of his thousands of books. I wondered when the summons for the talk might come.
This being the first day of school, Sheriff Wilson addressed us. He reminded us of our duty: to obey our parents and those in authority, all adults, in word and deed and thought. We were to work hard and to learnâlearn especially those things through which we might escape the wrath of the Dark One, in this life and the life to come. Work hard, and learn well!
He too was big, but fleshy. He had a high forehead, fat cheeks, and spectacles whose lenses had no rims. He picked me out as I headed toward the classroom.
âYoung Ben of Old Isle! How are you, boy?â
âWell, sir. Thank you, sir.â
He was smiling, but he smiled easily. People said he was the best Sheriff in living memory, more easygoing than his predecessors. The stocks which stood across the green from his house were empty more often than not. I thought I ought to like him, but could not.
âThe Master is well, I hope?â
The tone was solicitous, but I didnât believe the hope was honest. I had once observed him in conversation with the Master, and though I could not distinguish their words, there had been contempt in the Masterâs voice, wheedling unease in the Sheriffâs.
I said, âHe is well, sir.â
âRespect him, boy. He is a great man.â
âIndeed he is!â
I spoke warmly and thought his eyes narrowed behind the rimless lenses, but he smiled still more widely and patted my head to send me on my way.
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
Although I would not have preferred to live there, I found Sheriffâs an exciting place. Apart from ruinous mounds from the days of the Madness, fascinatingforbidden territory, there was the bustle of people, and there were shops. The Hesperus , which took produce to the mainland and brought back other goods, had recently returned. Paddy and I found mainland sweets tastier than the Widow Barnesâs fudge, and with hoarded pennies we bought sticks of toffee studded with hazelnuts. We munched our way happily to the quay, where Joe was waiting for us.
I began to rattle off an account of the day, but Paddy interrupted.
âWhat is it, Joe? Whatâs wrong?â
When I looked, his expression was troubled. He turned his head away.
âNothing that wonât wait. Weâve a tide to catch.â
She grasped