On the second Monday of their stay the girls went to investigate the kayak rental shop. It offered not only kayaks but mountain bikes and small sailboats. The place was cluttered, with bikes and kayaks hanging from the ceiling and accessories for boaters covering the walls. Stepping forth to help them was a muscularly-built blonde man wearing a green flourescent sweatshirt and black track pants. He had curly hair that cascaded freely down. A pair of yellow and blue wraparound sunglasses worn at the top of his head did its best to prevent more hair from falling loosely.
"Hello girls, I'm Michael. What can I do for you?" He had a warm resonant voice.
"We're interested in renting kayaks." Bess came forward with a glorious smile. Michael smiled back.
"We're interrupting the story for a teeth whitener commercial, then we'll be right back, folks," muttered George.
Upon learning that the girls had not kayaked before, Michael insisted that they take the introductory lesson first. They were fitted out with bright orange life-jackets. They walked down to the wooden dock where the colorful, sleek-hulled craft were pulled alongside. Michael instructed the girls to straddle the boats and then lower themselves into the cockpit. After a three-hour lesson the girls felt comfortable with the basic paddle strokes, steering their boats and getting out of a capsized boat.
"I suppose you've kayaked all around these islands," Nancy said.
"To tell you the truth, I don't spend that much time in a kayak," Michael replied. "And I'm only here for the summer. I live back east where I go to school. I'm actually a professional boardsailer. I compete in the Canadian professional boardsailing tour. This job is great because they allow me time off to travel to events. I can also drive to the West Coast events from here."
"That sounds great," Nancy said as she lifted one end of her boat out of the water.
The next day, four kayaks were gliding out of Broad Harbour past the lines of moored sailboats. The reflections of the masts and the white hulls were oily gleams in the smooth waters. Out along the sheltered east coast of the island they went.
"It certainly is perfect weather for this-- sunny and calm and warm, but not too hot," remarked George.
"Look," exclaimed Bess. A small round head of mottled grayish-brown was bobbing out of the water. It looked at Bess with huge dark curious eyes. Water dripped from the ends of its long whiskers.
"It's a harbor seal," said Nancy. "They're not shy around boaters."
"That's the cutest face we've seen on our trip," decided Bess.
George laughed. "Don't let Michael hear you say that. And Ivy probably doesn't agree either." Ivy pretended not to hear that remark.
Even though they were young and in generally good condition it took longer than they expected because they were not practiced paddlers. All of them had their jackets off and stowed in the watertight bow compartment of their boats. George could have gone faster but she was too considerate of the others to push the pace. Bess was already beginning to complain about her sore arms when they spotted Horace Eberhart's house.
The house appeared to be perched precariously on a rocky ledge overlooking the water. Steep wooden stairs led from the driveway and the road to the house. Another set of wooden stairs went down to the water's edge. There, Horace had constructed a dock at which his boat was tied up. The boat was about eighteen feet long and had an open deck except for a small canopy over the wheel.
From Horace's house they had to round a long rocky finger of land that jutted out into the ocean. On the other side was a secluded cove where they could see the Podmores' house. It was the only house on the water that they noticed. The girls came close enough to admire the Podmores' motorboat. It was as gleaming white as they expected from their distant view. The thirty foot cruiser was called 'Just Desserts'. The Podmores' house was a modern design in stained wood with immense windows through which they could enjoy their waterfront view. There was a large satellite dish on the roof.
The kayakers cut across the cove. As they rounded the headland and put the view of the Podmores' property behind them, they thought it was a good time to stop for lunch. Here was a wide stretch of sandy beach. After the rocky, steep shores they had paddled along all morning this place seemed refreshingly airy and open. It seemed all the more remote because there was a line of white beachfront houses visible, absurdly postcard small, in the distance. The girls carried their boats some distance from the water's edge to leave them under the shade of trees. They had been told that sunlight was damaging to the plastic hulls. Once they had removed their bags from the kayaks they ran off gleefully like little children, drawn to the sparkling pale blue waters.
After eating the lunches they had packed, Nancy, George and Bess were lying on blankets in the sand, water bottles and sunscreen ready at hand. Ivy was was at the edge of the surf.
"So what do you think of Jesse?" Nancy.
"Oh, he's alright," said Bess good-naturedly. "Not my type though. Too geeky."
"He seems to enjoy our company."
"Definitely. He's always happy to be around us. He likes the attention, I suppose. But he doesn't show any favoritism!" Bess giggled.
"Ivy seems to have taken a liking to him," Nancy observed.
"I can't say I'm happy for her," said George. "He's conceited and he's dishonest," was George's stern opinion.
"What do you mean by 'dishonest'?" asked Nancy.
"Well, I'd like to know what he's doing on the island, and why he's tramping all over Mr. Fisk's land. You'd have to be pretty dense to believe that he's doing wildlife research."
"Shall we try to get the truth out of him?" Nancy suggested. Bess and George agreed.
They lost all track of time in that unchanging world of water, sand, wind and sky. At last, exhausted and happy, they retreated to their boats. Nancy's eye was so practiced at observing easily missed details that not even the long intoxicating spell rendered her incapable of noticing something amiss with the boats. They had been shifted ever so slightly. She stopped on the spot.
"What's the matter, Nancy?" asked Bess in a voice which did not seem the least bit concerned.
Nancy turned over one of the boats. There was a small, clean hole through its bottom. A long stalk of grass had been threaded through the hole. Nancy supposed that it was placed there so that they would notice the hole and not try to put the boat in water. One of the other boats had an identical hole in it.
"Oh, no!" cried Ivy, "another childish prank. These islanders are beginning to really annoy me."
"Don't jump to conclusions, Ivy," said Bess. "That's something I've learned from being in Nancy's company so long. "It might not have anything to do with that developer warning letter. I think that's been settled."
"Yeah, but whoever wrote the letter is still out there," said George.
"Please don't disturb the ground near the kayaks," Nancy warned sharply, "there might be footprints." However, the ground was too hard and a diligent search revealed nothing.
So their kayak expedition ended disappointingly. They phoned the rental shop for assistance. It was an hour before the shop sent a van to fetch the girls and the boats. The driver grumbled that Michael had borrowed the van for personal use. Back at the shop Michael told them that the damage was easily repaired but he would still have to charge them for the time and effort required. He seemed more concerned for the girls' safety.
"Someone is giving you a warning. Next time he might not be so considerate of your safety." Michael gave them a long, serious look that struck Nancy as being out of keeping with his usual boardsailer dude demeanor.