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"Captain, I have a message from RCMP Headquarters in Halifax. It requests that you report to their detachment in Lunenburg when you finish your trip. They would like a report on your sighting. Over." "It seems, Leo," the first mate said, "that someone was listening in on your transmissions to RCC and the queen's harbormaster in Halifax." Water Street, Halifax 10:00P.M.ADT The glowing orange-colored fireball caught the , woman's attention from the Halifax side of the harbor in the capital city. She watched from her position near the ferry wharf, fascinated by the orb's effortless passage from the east side of the harbor to the boat slips. Minutes later, at home, she watched it for several minutes through a pair of binoculars. The object drifted into Dartmouth Cove, curved back toward the coast t guard pier, then went southeast toward the Imperial Oil refinery. At that point she lost Fa: er oe eee The woman called a local radio station and reported her sighting in an excited voice. She described it as an object about forty to fifty feet in diameter, glowing orange, the color of a red-hot poker. She didn't leave her name. Not long after, the station received another call confirming the first caller's description. They would get many such calls that night, as did the local newspaper, The Halifax Chronicle Herald. While the woman was watching the object, a mile away, across the water, young Chris Styles watched the same object, unaware that he was not the only one who saw it. Nova Scotia Will C. Eisnor is a professional photographer and owner of Knickle's Studio in Lunenburg, a lovely little fishing port. On the evening of October 4, 1967, one of his schooners was about to have her life ended forever. His forty-year-old, thirty-foot sailboat was in such bad shape that she was beyond repair. He had pulled her close to shore and as high up on Mason's Beach during high tide as possible. Will and two of his friends, Raymond Hiltz and St. Clair Croft, spent some time placing fuel aboard the vessel so that they could destroy her by fire. They had chosen a good night for a big fire, a cool evening with no wind. There was no moon, but the sky was filled with stars. Little wavelets lapped up on the shore while the tide first ebbed, then began to flow back in. "This is Captain Mersey, over." The captain affirmed that he would do so and ended his transmission. The captain muttered his agreement. He seemed lost in thought. track of the sphere. Somewhere between 10:30 and 11:00 P.M. ADT Mason's Beach in Puffy Cup Cove Lunenburg Village, Burning the craft was not to be as easy as they had anticipated; inside and out her planks and timbers