There was almost no one on the first deck of the MV Martha’s Vineyard on the 2:30 p.m. boat out of Woods Hole on Nov. 16. Once the motor vessel had turned around to head out across the Sound, the quiet was deafening— no hum of conversations, no cell phones in use, no shuffling footsteps, no babies’ cries, no children’s running feet, no greetings, no laughter, no one. The vacant seats spooked me a bit. Is this what the end would be like? Finally, with some relief, I came upon a young woman casually straddling the arm on the aisle side of a bank of empty seats, a lone figure in a curious pose. A slight smile exchanged, and strolling further through the open aisles, I was happy to discover one other piece of humanity, a single woman seated with a small black dog, both relaxing in the unencumbered space and completely silent — no yap-yap, no strangled straining at the leash, no panting or licking, no scratching, no scuffling, no introduction, no explanation of pedigree, not a word, not a sound. Three women (including myself) and two dogs (mine was in the car) — was that it for passengers on this crossing? Where are the men, I asked myself? The steamship crew, mostly men, were somewhere — I’d have seen two or three as I drove onto the car deck where I could have navigated figure eights in my Subaru Outback, had I been invited.

Of course, it’s a quiet time — early afternoon, midweek and midmonth of November, caught between October’s Columbus Day and the Thanksgiving rush. Most people, men/women/children are at work or school, mainly back at their off-Island winter residences; it’s not the commuting hour, and the high school teams are not yet traveling back from their competitive games — no students’ chattering, no carpenters’ slouched in sleep, no business being conducted out loud, no bustling in the aisles, no vocal reunions of family and friends, really no traffic.

Preferring to avoid the gray drizzle on the outdoor deck, I continued the easy stroll through the interior of the ferry. Without the high season distractions on board, I found a focus on an art exhibit I’d only glanced at on other trips. Now I could lean across the tables or climb across the empty seats, to get up close and personal with the work of Island artists. Had anyone been on board to catch the scene, it would have been quite an amusing picture — a 70-some-year-old hiking around the ferry deck, climbing its seats and tables to peer within a nose’s length at what hangs on the walls at frequent intervals. What a wonderful exhibit of Island artists has been presented to the passengers of the Steamship Authority. But how many of us stop, look, study or simply pass it all by? After all, when the boat is packed, we are unable to view the details of an artist’s work or to read the identifying plaque that is obstructed by heads, arms, bags and computers.

Artists whose work I was able to enjoy during that quiet crossing of midNovember included Alan Whiting, Jules Worthington, Thaw Malin, Alison Shaw, Virginia Besse, Liza Coogan, Millie Briggs, and a couple more whose names were too difficult for these old eyes to decipher. A full exhibit of Alison Shaw’s colorful and provocative Island photos can be seen in the forward lounge of the MV Martha’s Vineyard. Without the details of subjects, media, techniques, you have your own viewing experience to look forward to, especially if you find yourself crossing on the same motor vessel as I and lucky enough to be on board with no traffic, no sounds, no one.

Sally Cook lives in Chilmark and Cambridge and contributes occasionally to the Gazette.