les from the Connecticut
shore.

The flashing light that illumines the waters at night for us, did not
gleam on them, but nevertheless, the high brown bank and the little
slope of land looked inviting to weary men, as they cautiously rowed
near to it, not knowing whom they might meet there.

They landed, made a fire, cooked their food, ate of it, and lay down
to sleep until night should come again.

They set out early in the ensuing twilight, and rowed westward all
night, in the face of a gentle wind.

"If there were only another Faulkner's Island to flee to," said Mr.
Bushnell, as morning drew near. "Do you know (to one of the men) a
safe place to hide in on this coast?"

They were then off Merwin's Point, and between West Haven and
Milford.

"There's Poquahaug," was the reply, with a momentary catch of the oar,
and incline of the head toward the south-west.

"_What_ is Poquahaug?"

"A little island, pretty well in, close to shore, as it were, and,
maybe, deserted."

After deliberate council had been held it was resolved to examine the
locality.

A few years after New Haven and Milford churches were formed under the
oak-tree at New Haven, this little island, to which they were fleeing
to hide the Turtle from daylight, was "granted to Charles Deal for a
tobacco plantation, provided that he would not trade with the Dutch or
Indians;" but now Indians, Dutch and Charles Deal alike had left it,
the latter with a rude, sheltering building in place of Ansantawae's
big summer wigwam that used to adorn its crest.

To this spot, bright with grass, and green with full-foliaged trees of
oak on its eastern shore, the weary boatmen, who had had a long, hard
pull of twenty miles to make, came, just as the longest day's sun was
at its rising.

They were so glad and relieved _and_ satisfied to find no one on it.

The Turtle was left at anchor near the shore; the whale-boat gave up
of its provisions, and presently the little camp was in the enjoyment
of a long day of rest and refreshment.

Should anyone approach from the seaward or from the mainland, it was
determined that the party should resolve itself into a band of
fishermen, fishing for striped bass, for which the locality was well
known.

As the day wore on, and the falling tide revealed a line of stones
that gradually increased, as the water fell, to a bar a hundred feet
wide, stretching from the island to the sands of the Connecticut
shore, David Bushnell p