Chapter 14: The First Night in the Islands

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌​‌⁠A low line of sandhills, pink and fawn in the setting sun, at one end of them a little white village huddled round the base of a massive four-square lighthouse—such was Wangeroog, the easternmost of the Frisian Islands, as I saw it on the evening of October 15. We had decided to make it our first landing-place; and since it possesses no harbour, and is hedged by a mile of sand at low water, we had