86 OVER ON THE ISLAND It was, in truth, a quiet, shady place, A nook apart from traffic's toil and moil; Nor fair nor market, but unbroken face Of lush green pastures on a fertile soil, Well clothed with wealth of woods, by nature's bounty, And known as "Hernewood" all throughout the county; For the blue herons there would build their nests High up on the tall tops of withered pines, And sit there with their bills upon their breasts, Or on one leg erect would stand in lines, Fishing along the inlets marish sedges, Like sculptured ibises on old 's edges. "That last is the best of all—'For the blue herons there would build their nests high up on the tall tops of withered pines . . ." Duvar had a happiness of expression! Out in the harbour the sun streamed down on three trim motor launches sleepily riding the waves. Per¬ haps they were dreaming of all the other vessels that had sailed on various missions and pretexts out of the Island Port of Joy. From this port went the two- hundred-ton Fanny, in 1849. She sailed with a cargo of Islanders for the gold-fields of California . The voyage took seven and a half months, and was gener¬ ally uneventful. One man died en route. One contracted yellow fever. One nearly served as piece de resistance to a shark. The boat was sold in Cali¬ fornia and the company was dissolved. From this port went boats to England ; to the United States; to Upper Canada . In fancy the Fairy Queen rises in her weak framework and sails past the sleeping launches to her doom near the other shore. Here the Royal William called, in 1833, and startled the Indian inhabitants so that they fled in terror to the interior.