Last Voyage of the Misty Day
Denny's mother whirled. There were tears in her eyes. "Is that all you care about?"
she shouted. "Your cushy little life-style? What about your father? He's dead. Don't
you care about that?"
"Of course I care!" Denny felt tears sting her eyes. She jumped out of her chair,
charged through the living room into her bedroom and slammed the door.
Immediately, the cold started creeping into her bones.
Marooned... that's what she was. All alone with a crazy woman on a stupid little iceberg in the North
Atlantic. She scanned the dark horizon from the shore across the bay to Little Hog Island and out to the
open sea - and then suddenly her attention darted back to Little Hog Island. Was that a light through the
trees on the far side?
A shiver ran through her body. There was a story in town about Little Hog Island. Years ago the
causeway used to go right through and connect the islands. A man named Rufus Day lived out on Little
Hog Island. In fifty-four, when the hurricane hit, Rufus refused to leave. The road washed away, along
with his house. Rufus and his boat, the Misty Day, disappeared too. Everyone figured they were all
washed out to sea, but then one day, twenty years later, the Misty Day had suddenly reappeared
overnight, hauled out and sitting in her cradle on Little Hog Island, just as nice as you please. Rumor
had it that the boat had been found drifting somewhere, unmanned, and that some relative had had her
brought back and hauled out, but townsfolk said the ghost of Rufus Day had sailed her all those long
years and roamed her decks still, longing to take her to sea again. The Misty Day sat there yet,
weathering in her cradle, and townsfolk kept a respectful distance.