Excerpt from The Making of Zimri Bunker: A Story of Nantucket in the Early Days

Westward, through a gap in the hills, the harbor waters could be seen broken into white capped ridges. Beyond, lay the rambling Old town itself, gray as the sea beside which it had stood so long. The masts and yards of a dozen whalers showed indistinctly at the wharves. On the hill, back of the town, a row Of windmills stood out grim and black against the angry ¿ush Of a winter sunset.

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