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Peleg Wherren's fish-house was a neighbor of the lane, and from the boat the party passed to Aunt Stanshy's. As Charlie went along, he noticed a woman in the lane. She wore a rusty black hood, a faded red shawl, and an old calico dress. Her general look was that of poverty. She turned as she heard the sound of steps, and, turning, chanced to face Aunt Stanshy.
This was an unexpected shout from the heart of the fog, and after the shout came a black boat, and in it was a man dressed like a fisherman. He wore a "sou'wester" and a striped woolen shirt, also big cow-hide boots that came above the knees of his pants. "Where are we?" asked Will. "Anywhere near Wherren's wharf?" "Where are you? Wal, it is safe to say in a gin'ral way that you are in the river."
"When you are out on the river, you are always safer to have a compass, for fogs may come up and you don't know where you are. I'm goin' up the river and I should be happy to show you where Wherren's wharf is, for you might as well hunt for a clam inside of an iceberg as to hunt for the wharf down here." "Thank you," said Aunt Stanshy. "Haven't I seen you before, marm?" "I dare say."
"Well, just where are we and which way ought we to go to reach Wherren's wharf?" "We are now down near Forbes's Island, and " "Forbes's Island!" screamed Aunt Stanshy. "Did you ever!" "And my compass says if one wants to get up river, he must go in a direction directly opposite to that which you are now taking!" The apothecary's face fell several inches, Charlie thought.
"Let me pint you first right for Peleg Wherren's fish-house, for there's a good landin' place at his wharf," said Aunt Stanshy. Standing on the pebbly shore, she bowed to the level of the boat's rail, and then aimed her as if an enemy directing a columbiad at Peleg's fish-flakes, eel-pots, and other articles, promising to let a cold shot drop in their midst.
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