The first night in port, we were plagued with a tempest. The storm raged about the island so fiercely that I thought trees were blowing down, and that the hut where I slept with Aunt Dixie and my friends would - like Dorothy's house in the tornado be blown to another land. I knew those fears were irrational and I could dispense with them when my reason caught up with me. Yet there was one fear I could not shake. I was sure that in the morning, I'd find the glorious sailing vessel that had brought us here would be wrecked in the harbor, my lover lost to the seas. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait out the nerve-wracking night wondering about the fate of my sailor. When I heard rapping at my bedroom door some time about three in morning, I recognized the sound as more than a limb scratc
