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Friend Island
Friend Island
Friend Island
Ebook39 pages27 minutes

Friend Island

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LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 27, 2013
Friend Island
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Francis Stevens

Dubbed ‘the founder of dark fantasy’, Minneapolis-born Gertrude Barrows Bennett (1884–1948), writing as Francis Stevens, influenced H.P. Lovecraft and has been ranked alongside Mary Shelley. Her pioneering novels include the lost world story The Citadel of Fear (1918), the dystopian The Heads of Cerberus (1919) and the atmospheric Claimed (1920).

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    Friend Island - Francis Stevens

    The Project Gutenberg EBook of Friend Island, by Francis Stevens

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

    almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

    re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

    with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

    Title: Friend Island

    Author: Francis Stevens

    Release Date: February 26, 2011 [EBook #35401]

    Language: English

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRIEND ISLAND ***

    Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online

    Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

    All-Story Weekly

    September 7, 1918


    FRIEND ISLAND

    by Francis Stevens


    It was upon the waterfront that I first met her, in one of the shabby little tea shops frequented by able sailoresses of the poorer type. The uptown, glittering resorts of the Lady Aviators' Union were not for such as she.

    Stern of feature, bronzed by wind and sun, her age could only be guessed, but I surmised at once that in her I beheld a survivor of the age of turbines and oil engines—a true sea-woman of that elder time when woman's superiority to man had not been so long recognized. When, to emphasize their victory, women in all ranks were sterner than today's need demands.

    The spruce, smiling young maidens—engine-women and stokers of the great aluminum rollers, but despite their profession, very neat in gold-braided blue knickers and boleros—these looked askance at the hard-faced relic of a harsher day, as they passed in and out of the shop.

    I, however, brazenly ignoring similar glances at myself, a mere male intruding on the haunts of the world's ruling sex, drew a chair up beside the veteran. I ordered a full pot of tea, two cups and a plate of macaroons, and put on my most ingratiating air. Possibly my unconcealed admiration and interest were wiles not exercised in vain. Or the macaroons and tea, both excellent, may have loosened the old sea-woman's tongue. At any rate, under cautious questioning, she had soon launched upon a series of reminiscences well beyond my hopes for color and variety.

    When I was a lass, quoth the sea-woman, after a time, "there was none of this high-flying, gilt-edged, leather-stocking luxury about the sea. We sailed by the power of our oil and gasoline. If

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