We knew what lay beyond only from tales—me from listening to Etienne, and Aleksey from stories he heard at the colony on the coast. Thus I knew that there was a great confluence of rivers at this point and that the combined power of their joining ran for a mile or so as one mighty river before pouring over a vast cliff. Opinion on the height of the falls varied depending upon the teller of the tale. Etienne said they were taller than the tallest pine and that he had not seen their like anywhere in Europe. The river did not fall in one great plummet either. Its path was interrupted at the very edge of this great cliff by a piece of land, an island. The Indians called the island Matinicus, but this had been corrupted to Matins Island by the French and thus Morning Island by those Europeans on this side of the river. Even Etienne had never ventured onto the island, and he said it was an accursed place, which I had taken to mean there was not much worth him seeing there, as he had seen so many wonders in his life.
