A huge boat had arrived in the harbor. “They’re here,” panicked Stanley. The pair of them peered more intently through the glass, squinting their eyes. “That’s no pirate ship, Stanley. It’s a ferry!” claimed Daisy. The two of them stood watching. Then there was movement. Something began to move down the gangplanks at one end of the boat. The fire baskets were burning, and they illuminated a long winding shape that snaked upward into the harbor, moving toward the moor. It was creaking and grinding like the train that had brought Stanley to the island. What was it? Stanley and Daisy looked more closely still, and soon they realized that a trail of wooden wagons, one behind another, was approaching them. Flickering lamps hung from them, dancing in the dark. They ran from room to room, chasing the trail from window to window. “Wait, I know these people! Don’t worry, Stanley,” said Daisy. They are travelers, and they have been here before. They are good people, with many friends on Crampton Rock.
