as Ingram's Wharf. Just so had her great-grandfather, Mark Ingram, set his elbows upon the taffrail of his ship as she warped into that same dock a very great many years before.
Jane was twelve years old. She was not very big, and she had what everybody in Resthaven recognized as "the Ingram eyes"—very blue and deep-set under perfectly level eyebrows. Her mouth was rather straight, too, and so was her hair, which was tawny in color and somewhat unruly. It was clipped short below her ears, and to keep it back from her forehead she habitually tied it with a blue tape—a thing which her great-aunts considered unsuitable. The tape was at present concealed by a blue watch-cap, which was pulled over her ears in so determined a fashion that only a few wisps of hair escaped from beneath it.
Resthaven Harbor deepened from gray to green, from green to purple, and stars swam above it—blue winter stars, tangling among the rigging of the old whaler on which Jane was so intent. Aboard the ship a kerosene lamp flared out, sending a long flicker up the foremast. The lighthouse which marked the
