Read The Castle on Deadman's Island for Free Online

States – the Thousand Islands Bridge opened jointly by President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Mackenzie King in 1938.
    â€œInteresting rock formations,” Graham said, as he watched the islands pass. “Mostly igneous. Pre-cambrian period. Formed several billion years ago. Much older than the limestone you find around Kingsport – it’s only five hundred million years old.”
    Only
five hundred million years, Neil thought. “Do you suppose there really are a thousand islands?”
    â€œActually 1,864,” Graham said. “I looked it up. Some on the Canadian side, some on the American.”
    Occasionally, one of the familiar red freighters, long and slim, steamed by in the ship channel, going downriver to Montreal or upriver to Lake Ontario. As long as a football field, they had to be slim to gothrough the locks that bypassed the Long Sault Rapids. There was talk of building a seaway that would flood the rapids and allow ocean freighters into Lake Ontario, but all that was put aside in the struggle to win the war.
    â€œWe must be getting close,” Crescent said. She bent over her chart. When she straightened up, she pointed across the river to the south.
    â€œDeadman’s Island should be right over there,” she said. “We have to cross the ship channel first. Haul in on the jib sheet, Neil.” She changed course to head south, and then they were sailing across the wind, the dinghy bounding over the waves.
    Graham had gone unusually quiet. He was looking pale.
    â€œAre you all right, Graham?” Crescent asked.
    â€œBit queasy,” he said, in a weak voice. “A touch of mal de mer, I’m afraid.”
    â€œDon’t look at the scenery,” Crescent said. “That’s the worst thing for seasickness. Look straight ahead. Watch the sails.”
    Graham kept his eyes on the sails. But being Graham, he didn’t just watch them, he studied them. “The way the mainsail curves reminds me of an airplane wing,” he said, pointing to the front edge of the main, where it was attached to the mast. “Same principle, I assume. It’s pulling the boat along like anairplane wing lifts a plane. It’s Bernoulli’s Principle-you know, air flowing over a venturi creates a vacuum that pulls –”
    â€œSorry to interrupt,” Crescent said, “but there it is ahead. Deadman’s Island.”
    â€œThat one?” Neil said. For the island they were approaching had only pine trees and one cottage on it, as far as he could see.
    â€œNo, the big island behind it.”
    Then, as they rounded the point, the castle leaped out at them, dwarfing its surroundings. It dominated the blue water, the granite rocks, and even the stately pines.
    â€œGreat balls of fire!” Graham said, gazing up at it. “A perfect setting for
Macbeth!”

ELEVEN
_
    The myriad windows of the castle stared down at the little dinghy scornfully as if daring it to come closer.
    â€œSix chimneys, at least,” Neil said, counting those he could see. “And three or four roof peaks. What a pile!”
    Crescent turned the boat into the wind and they glided past a huge boathouse – a smaller version of the castle, like the offspring of a giant.
    â€œâ€˜The rich man in his castle,’” Graham quoted the poet Cecil Frances Alexander, “‘the poor man at his gate.’”
    â€œNot much doubt which we are,” Neil said.
    At the dock, a large sign greeted them: PRIVATE PROPERTY – POSITIVELY NO TRESPASSING . Underneath the red lettering was a black skull and crossbones. The major had liked his privacy.
    When they landed, no one appeared. The gravelly cawing of a raven was the only sound that broke the silence. “At least the castle doesn’t have a drawbridge to keep us out,” Graham said. They dropped the sails, tied
Discovery
securely, and headed up the hill to the castle.
    Walking up the path, the