The Boat Comes In

The morning boat tied up at Stromness. The houses stand with their backs to the water. Polly stepped onto wet flagstones and understood the wind. It was not a gust. It was a condition. A collie sat at the end of the pier. Polly went over to him. "Can you show me the way?"

He asked where she wanted to go. She did not know yet. There are close to seventy islands, and about twenty have people on them. There is no forest and nothing tall for miles. "Could you tell me where I can catch a bus?" she asked. He tipped his head toward a shelter up the slope.

Then she asked a city question. "How long does it take to walk to the city center?" The collie looked along the one street that runs the length of the town. Eleven minutes, he said, if you stop at the windows.

"Can you tell me if there are any interesting events today?" The ferry timetable is the local news, he said. There was a boat to the seal rocks. There was a chapel built by prisoners. There was a village that lay under sand for four thousand years.