Yet when they started their final tack in the Bay of Fundy for their sunset run down Cobequid Bay, Nicole and Gordon and all the men bore the strain of those seemingly endless days. As the headlands at the Georgetown point rose high and emerald green to her right, Nicole felt a stirring within at the sight of her beloved cliffs. She leaned against the starboard railing as Gordon called in the controlled voice he had used ever since they had passed the British fleet anchored in the Halifax harbor. Sailors rushed about her, climbed the nettings, and unfurled the remaining sails. Nicole kept her gaze fastened upon the point where she and Anne had spent so many wonderful hours. Three times during the voyage they had heard the pounding thunder of seaborne war. Once it had begun in the evening, and she had hoped the reddish glow on the horizon was somehow a second sunset. Gordon had ordered all lights doused and all sails made taut, and she knew the truth of it. The second day of their voyage, Gordon had broken out the British flag to fly from his signal halyard.
