strategy for the last mile of the race. He told us that you just pull out all the stops and give it everything you have.

Captain Bennett finally tore his passengers away and we were underway for Grand River Once more we were cordially welcomed. We began another tough contest at once. The Grand River team defeated us 8 -7.

Our hosts had prepared supper for us. Fred Bennett's anxiety had increased and he instructed us to eat quickly. We complied as best we could and we were finally aboard the boat for Stanley Bridge. The anxiety of the Captain had not yet aflected the passengers.

We began to notice that there was quite a roll on in Malpeque Bay. The wind was now blowing from the north—east and picking up. The air about us had taken on a grey look. We realized that the trip home was not about to be as pleasant as the morning cruise had been.

We left Malpeque Bay and started eastwards along the shore. The Captain began to converse in muted tones with the two men at his side. The waves were much bigger now and our little craft pitched about violently. The fishing boats, which we had seen in the morning, were no longer in sight. Their crew had already sought the haven of their ports.

We held on tightly. Our jovial mood was gone, just like the sunshine had gone. Our anxiety mounted as the north-east wind gained in intensity. One girl recalled that these were the very waters where the Marco Polo went down in 1883.

To add to the morbid tone of thought someone remembered that it was along this very North Shore that many men and ships were lost in the Yankee Gale of 1851. None of our party became sick but we were “hell—fire pale”.

We neared New London Harbour. The sea was breaking in two huge white mounds like drifts of snow right across the mouth of our own familiar harbour Captain Bennett hesitated, looked at

the bar, and again conversed quietly with the men beside him. We huddled together saying not a word.

After some deliberation Captain Bennett began to heave to and head back to Malpeque Harbour. Would the sea get rougher? Would our small craft be just one more lost off the northshore of Prince Edward Island in a Northeaster?

Night had begun to fall by the time we again entered Malpeque Bay. Captain Bennett headed his boat for a small inlet which he referred to as “the Barris Wall He brought the boat ashore near the community of Hamilton. We were glad to have our feet on good old “terra firma”, even if it was unfamiliar “terra firma”. Fred Bennett knew a few people in the area but the passengers knew no one.

We made our way to a nearby farmhouse. Mr and Mrs. Abbott offered room in their small home for the six girls. Mr Abbott expressed his regret that they could not possibly house the men too. He mentioned a loft of new hay in the barn and told us that we were welcome to make use of it for the night.

The Captain, a companion of mine, Jack O’Connor, and I walked some distance to Malpeque. We spent the night there with relatives of the Captain.

During the night one of the men who slept in the barn became quite ill. His discomfort was eased by some improvised measures. The rest of our party spent a comfortable night, thankful that our adventure at sea had been no more serious than it was.

Dawn broke with sunshine but the sea had still not subsided. My companion had a milk route that summer He had hired a friend to take care of it for one day only. He and I got up early, to walk home. When we reached home, he found that his friend had seen the necessity of taking

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