High Tide at Noon by Elisabeth Ogilvie

wasn’t what you’d call empty.”
    â€œYou wait till I see that old devil!” Joanna felt suffocated by her rage, she wanted to throw things and hear them smash. “I’ll tell him something—goddam old fool—” She raged up and down the cockpit until Charles caught her by the shoulder and clapped a hard hand over her mouth.
    â€œSeems like you’ve said enough to him already,” he said dryly.
    â€œWhat did your father say?” Nils’ voice was quiet.
    â€œWhat do you think he said? Any of the rest of us would’ve had plenty to say, but not the old man. He wouldn’t lower himself to argue with anybody that was so beside himself.” There was pride in Charles’ tone. “Besides, he don’t talk over his business on the beach. He looked Gunnar up and down just once and walked away. Left the old son of a bitch sputtering and fizzing like a fish out of water.” He laughed, and started up the engine. “So long, Nils. Think nothing of it.”
    Nils began to row. The space of glistening blue widened between the two boats, and Joanna stared angrily after the peapod, wishing she hadn’t climbed out of it. She’d show Gunnar! So he had to stir up trouble, because the Island was too peaceful at the moment! Oh, she knew all his nasty little tricks. And how long were they going to take it from him, those sons Karl and Eric, with grown families of their own? If there was any chew to be made about her and Nils, why didn’t Nils’ father make it? Why did there have to be a chew? Why, Nils was another brother to her—only a little better because he didn’t try to team her around, and he was generous with his gum and his boat and his cigarettes.
    If they tried to keep her out of Nils’ boat just to please old Gunnar, she’d show them something. But they wouldn’t try; they wouldn’t say anything. Her father and mother knew better than to listen to the old devil. The tight knot in her stomach loosened. She went aft to the wheel and confronted Charles, hands in her hip pockets.
    â€œWell, what goes on?”
    Charles grinned. “I got a little errand to do—out there to the no’theast point of the Rock.” He pointed across the water. “Who’s that out there?”
    â€œAsh Bird.”
    â€œYes. Young Ash. Well, when I went to haul this morning there was more’n one place where little Ashly was set right on top of me. Don’t know where he gets his courage from. So I went home with my lobsters, and Ash was still out—and now I’m back again.”
    â€œIf it isn’t the father it’s the son,” said Joanna. “Charles, why do they do it to us?”
    â€œBecause we’re the Bennetts,” said Charles. “Because we own most of the Island, and we got a way of thinking we’re somebody.”
    â€œWell, we are somebody.”
    â€œMaybe,” said Charles, “but that Bird trash don’t think so.”
    She thought of Simon, pleading with her in the darkness, threatening her. If Charles, or any of them, knew about that . . . Was it because she was Joanna Bennett that Simon was so dead set on having her?
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” she demanded eagerly.
    â€œDamned if you aren’t spoiling for a fight, young Jo!” Charles laughed at her. “But I’m just going to have a word with that boy.”
    â€œWell, what are you going to say? ”
    â€œJust give him a mite of advice,” her brother said mildly. “I wouldn’t go against the skipper’s orders. Wouldn’t hurt the boy any. After all, Ash is kind of a little fella.”
    Ash looked startled when the Sea-Gypsy came alongside. He was a thin, sulky youth, with none of the handsome self-assurance of his elder brother, or the mock-meekness of his father. Well he might look startled, with Charles a black young giant in oilskins, whose gaff caught