I am now officially on retreat. I am having a mini writing retreat at Picnic Shelter No. 18 on B'l'Isle--Belle Isle. The sky is black and the geese on the lagoon are honking madly, the robins singing, and gulls screeching. Something smells like dung, like manure spread on farm fields. The woods are flooded with vernal rain. White trout lilies, cut-leaved toothwort, blue violets, and spicebush are in flower. Crows caw collectively at a distance, but here, the sounds subside to a soft woodsy silence.
Discovery at Little Hog Island, part 9
Buck laughed out loud, a deep hearty laugh. The others all laughed too. They laughed and laughed and laughed, doubling over, gasping for breath. "You're afraid of us," he finally choked out. "You think we're criminals or smugglers or something." And they all laughed again, even Glenn.
"You're not?" Dana asked, smiling weakly. "I don't get it? What's so funny?"
Buck laughed some more, and wiped tears from his eyes. He took a slug of his beer. The others all followed suit. "Glenn here," he said, waving at Glenn as if she didn’t know who he was, "is the president of the Little Hog Island Historical Society. We have a museum in town. Garrett is the vice president, I’m the treasurer, Willie is the recording secretary," Willie bobbed his head, "and Simon is the President of Development, our head fund-raising guy." Simon Smiled and nodded.
Buck continued, "We're trying to raise money to make Little Hog Island into a Living History museum. We want to restore some of the original ruins of the Fort. What we have stored in the stone shed and in this building, which was an old customs house, are artifacts. We have way too many artifacts to store just at little museum in town."
"Aren't you afraid someone will steal them?"
"A little. We keep them locked when we're not out here, and inventory them whenever we are here. That's what Glenn and I were doing earlier."
"The tides are in our favor, too," Garrett said. "After we lost a series of tourists trying to swim out here, people just started leaving the place alone."
"We lost a local boy, too, Billy Owens Jr. He didn't believe the ban on swimming to Little Hog Island and chose to try it just during the rip. He got pulled way out and they found him two weeks later in
"Yeah," Garrett said, "he was our age. He was in my physics class with Mr. Brunelle. Mr. Brunelle passed a couple weeks ago. Only Phip Rellins is left."
"Your age," Willie said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, their age. Don't forget your history teacher, Raymie Wadsworth. He and Phip were just telling me about Billy Owens at Mr. Brunelle's wake. Said there was something strange about all that," Simon said.
"Mr Raymie, he's not all there any more, poor fellow. Touch of dementia, you know? Willie is my youngest son," Buck said. "He's got his own boat now, and his own crew."
"What did Phip Rellins mean about there being something strange about Billy Owens?" Willie asked.
"Why don't you all just shut up," Glenn said. "No one knows when to keep their mouths shut." He glowered at Willie, Simon, and Dana in turn. Then Buck. He stood, turned on his heel, and disappeared into the other room.
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