Teetoncey and Ben O'Neal by Theodore Taylor

  A few minutes later, the surf crew launched and we all moved closer to the waterline to watch them pull out. Only Tee stayed by the fire, staring into it; a small figure dwarfed by my old rubber coat. I yelled for her to come on but she shook her head. Surely, the sight of the ghost hulk had unnerved her. I hoped her nerves weren't shot to the point of confession.

  There really wasn't much to see at that. The night was black as deck tar and the boat disappeared into it. We followed the lantern that Filene was holding as it bobbed over the choppy sea.

  Frank got me to one side worriedly. "Maybe they'll find the chests?"

  That was silly. Filene couldn't have seen his own boots out there unless he held the lantern over them. The tide was already lapping across the shoal. The only thing they could do was to make certain it was the Empress hulk. In the morning would be the anxious time. They might spot something then.

  Soon, we saw the lantern turn parallel to the beach, so we knew they were going along the sandbar, Filene trying to get a good look. Then the boat stopped a moment, and Kilbie said quietly, "That's bad."

  We could see the keeper waving the lantern back and forth, likely scanning what was visible of the boiler stack and mast stubs. Finally, his shout fought its way back through the westerly breeze. "It's her!"

  That was certainly no surprise to Kilbie and myself. Absolutely it was the British bark. But everyone else whooped it up. There were about fifty people, mostly from Chicky but some from Clarks. They all yelled or said something excitable. It wasn't often that a wreck surfaced. But they only knew the half.

  I went back to the fire and said to Teetoncey, "Filene knows we weren't jesting."

  She passed over that to ask, "Can we go home, Ben?"

  "What's wrong?"

  "I'm not feeling very well." Her wan look verified that statement.

  "Just as soon as Filene gets back," I promised. Right then, I wouldn't have left the beach for a round-trip ticket to New York City via railroad sleeping car.

  The boat returned to shore about seven o'clock and the crew piled out, not saying much. Wrecks, even old ones, did that to them occasionally. Filene moved forward and then stepped out on the beach. I tightened up, wondering if he'd mention the chests. All he said was, "It's been a long day. Why don't you folks go home an' git some supper."

  Frank Scarborough's papa asked, "What'd you see, Filene?"

  The lantern glow plainly showed that the keeper wasn't up to a lot of talk. He muttered, "We seen a hulk that killed thirteen people."

  I heard Tee make a small noise.

  Then Filene looked back out at the bar, shaking his head.

  Jabez broke the silence. "Boys, let's secure the boat till mornin." They pulled it high on the beach.

  Everyone went to their houses, including Tee and myself. The Hatteras cat had her tongue all the way home though I tried to make her talk; telling her how we could get that silver in a snap.

  Naturally, Mama wasn't at all pleased with the discovery that Mis' Mehaly had made. She said, "Remains o' humans an' ships should be left in peace."

  I said, "The wind and sea did it. Mis' Mehaly didn't."

  Mama answered gloomily, "It bodes no good, Ben," and went about serving supper, thinking her mystical thoughts about the sea.

  I woke up before dawn but later than I'd planned, dressed hurriedly, and then went in to shake Tee. Her eyes were closed but I don't think she'd been asleep. I doubt she'd slept at all during the night. I whispered, "Get dressed and let's go"

  She whispered back, "I don't want to, Ben. I'm not going out there again."

  Now we had two females in the house who were skitterish of that ocean. I said, "C'mon, Tee. Filene'll launch soon. He may see something this morning."

  "I'm not going," she whispered fiercely.

  Puzzled, I shrugged and went on out. Mama would be delighted that she stayed home, but how she could sprawl there knowing that the surfmen might spot those chests was beyond me. Even if that ship hadn't had a red cent aboard I would have gone.

  Filene was already at sea when I arrived at Heron Shoal about seven o'clock. The sun wasn't up but there was plenty of gray light. A half dozen people had beat me to the scene. I said "Hello" to Mr. Burrus.

  "That gives me the willies," he said, nodding toward the bar.

  Much more of the Empress could be seen this morning, though her keel was still well down in sand. Short pieces of ribbing cupped up like brown bent fingers. The sea must have sliced her about six or eight feet above the keel, swept everything off her except the stubs of curved ribs; the donkey boiler and nubs of busted masts.

  "Looks like a giant fish cleaved above the backbone, don't it?" said Mr. Burrus.

  She did, a little. Like a fish skeleton that had parked on the beach for years, parted with its meat, head, and tail; showing only its bones. But these were dirty brown instead of sun parched.

  Filene had anchored to the shoal and all the crew were leaning over the side to study the hulk. Then, suddenly, there seemed to be excitement in the boat. They'd spotted something. My heart sank to my toenails.

  I couldn't recognize who it was, but one of the surfmen took an oar and began pushing the blade into the sand; then it looked like Malachi Gray getting out on the bar. Then Filene and Jabez climbed out. All three knelt down and seemed to be scraping sand.

  I was beside myself.

  Hardie Miller shouted out, "What do you see, Filene?"

  The keeper paid us no mind although I don't think he could hear Hardie across eight hundred yards and over surf noise.

  Feeling low, not even believing myself, I said to Mr. Burrus, "I bet they don't find anything."

  Just then Kilbie came up on foot and I ran over to him. "Damnation," I said. "I think they found diem."

  Kilbie squinted toward the bar. "They're not in the right position, Ben."

  "You hope," I whispered.

  "They ought to be by that mainmast stub," said Kilbie.

  "Well, don't suggest it."

  Filene and his men fooled around on that bar for almost an hour while Kilbie and I went daft on the beach. Hardie even got so mad at the keeper that he threatened to go back to Big Kinnakeet and haul his skiff up and go out and take a look himself. If he'd known bullion was on that bar, he would have swum out in the winter sea. Hardie was a dedicated wrecker.

  Finally, about eight, when the tide had well covered the bar again, the Heron Head surfmen returned to the beach. No sooner had the prow touched when Mr. Burrus asked, "What'd you see?"

  "Nothin' but a broken cask," said Filene. "Let that hulk rest in peace."

  Kilbie and I almost sagged to the sand in relief.

  Now, we had a clear shot ahead unless some big mouth cut loose. That nor'easter had practically done all the work for us, digging more sand away than two steam shovels could have. If we burrowed down two feet we'd have the bullion. And from now on, nobody would pay much attention to that wreck.

  If the weather was favorable we planned to go out three days hence. I talked to Tee about it but she wanted no part. Well, that was just as good. It would be quicker and easier with just three of us.

  For two days, one of us kept an eye on the wreck and on the beach. Curiosity had died down and by the end of the second day, no one went off the trail to even peek at the Empress hulk.

  I had a problem at home, though. Mama would likely spot the empty sawhorses that had been holding Me and the John O'Neal. I finally figured out what to do. Morning of the second day, I tossed an old tarpaulin over it, so the shape was outlined. Then that night I went out and quickly dragged the boat about eighty feet away, hiding it in the brush. Then I laid some planks over the sawhorses; built up a shape of a boat with more brush; then covered it with the tarp. From the kitchen window it would look like the boat was still there. The Widow O'Neal would never know the difference until we'd returned it, along with a hundred thousand in bullion.

  Kilbie had figured out just about what time the Heron Head patrol might pa
ss, and we'd have about an hour, which is all the tide would allow us, anyway. But with three shovels working, we could dig out two feet of sand in ten minutes, heave those chests up separately, and be on our way.

  Thursday afternoon found us hiding behind a dune, boat with us, as Jimmy Meekins plodded north on that leg of his patrol. We let him get about a mile up the beach, and then I said, "Let's launch and be quick about it."

  Shovels, long probe, and anchor in it, we pulled the boat down to the surf, and in no time I was rowing out to the Empress.

  Kilbie said, "We shouldn't have too much trouble now that she's this high."

  I didn't think so, either.

  From the looks of her, scanning from the beach, the Empress hadn't moved an inch. The tide was almost out; very little breeze and the ocean was calm.

  I laid my back into the oars and I don't think it took us more than four or five minutes to reach the bar. Kilbie heaved the anchor up on it, and we got out in a hurry, moving the shovels and probe up near the stub of mainmast.

  Frank stopped a minute, though. "I don't like it out here," he said.

  Kilbie and I weren't exactly thrilled. The stubs of ribs, covered with small barnacles, were dripping; there was some Gulf Stream seaweed draped over the rusted stack of the boiler, tiny crabs weaving in and out of it.

  "Start shoveling, and we'll get off," I said, having no time to waste on how the hulk looked.

  Kilbie walked back about six feet from the mainmast and said, "Let's try here."

  We all started to shovel and in a few minutes, Frank said, "I hit something. But it's soft."

  "Keep digging," I said.

  Sand was plopping around.

  "What is this?" Kilbie asked, as we uncovered more of something. It was like a hunched bundle of cloth.

  "Whatever it is, let's get it out," I said, getting nervous about the tide coming in again. "Chests may be under it."

  All of a sudden, Frank yelled, "Gawd!" but not without some reverence. He dropped his shovel.

  We'd uncovered a body!

  Frank said, "I think I'm gonna be sick," and went to the other end of the bar.

  Of all the rotten luck!

  I said, "What do we do now?"

  Kilbie replied, "Let's get him out of here. Can't leave him."

  I wanted to know why not. He was useless.

  "I think it would be against the law," said Kilbie.

  We turned him over. He was like a mummy. I took a look at his face and then quickly looked away. It was all shriveled, like a prune.

  But Kilbie took a long look. That boy had the spirit of a mortician. He said thoughtfully, "The cold, wet sand preserved him, Ben."

  I did not give one good damn about the sand preserving him.

  Kilbie went on, "The fish an' crabs didn't get to him. He's jus' puckered up an' gray, like your fingers if you hold 'em underwater. He's the color o' slate an' his eyes have a film on them. He's not bloated at all."

  Refusing to look at him, I said, "Let's roll him off the shoal."

  "He's gonna float," Kilbie replied. "We better take him back ashore. Either that or anchor him."

  "I'm not losing my anchor on him," I said. If we'd had a killick, which is a hunk of stone used for an anchor, I wouldn't have minded. But I'd searched high and low for my iron anchor and it was valuable.

  Kilbie said, "Ben, we got to take this man back ashore an' be legal. Anybody finds out, an' we could spend the rest o' our days in state jail in Raleigh."

  I sighed. "All right."

  There went the salvage work for this day.

  I yelled over to Frank "Come on, an' help us."

  He was puking.

  So Kilbie and I dragged that shrunken, gray-puckered sailor over to the boat and dumped him in. Maybe Mama was right. That hulk bode no good. And now someone could think about digging a fourteenth grave for the Empress people over by Chicky.

  I'm telling you that that wreck was defying us something awful. It was out there to be salvaged and every which way we turned we were defeated. The tide was already coming back. The only thing to do was go to the beach, hide the boat, and then notify the station that a body had drifted up out of the barkentine, and washed ashore.

  We got ready to shove off, and I said to Frank, disappointed in him, "Get in this boat now or stay here all night."

  Green as summer collards, he got in, casting glassy eyes up at the sky instead of down in the bilge where that sopping, sandy bundle was.

  Kilbie pushed us out and I began to row toward shore.

  Much to our sorrow, Luther Gaskins had never told us that he saw us that first day when I dumped the boat. It had not occurred to either Kilbie or myself that we could easily be seen from the Heron Head Station lookout. Worse still, Lem O'Neal had flu that day and Keeper Midgett took his postnoon watch.

  With his long glass, Filene always scanned everything in the ocean, be it birds or flopping fish or broom handles or boats and ships. I can only imagine his grunt when he focused in on us. He then got Jabez to relieve him, mounted his tackie, and went south.

  No sooner had I brought the Me and the John O'Neal beautifully through the surf when that old crone of a man stood up behind the dune where he'd been hiding and shouted down, "Whatcha got, boys?"

  13

  ALTHOUGH MY COUSIN Filene occasionally performed like a jackass, to quote Mama, he was not an ignorant peasant. He looked at the three of us to judge the weakest and selected Frank Scarborough, whose face was just as gray and almost as puckered as the corpse in the boat.

  Filene roared at Frank, "What were you doin out there?"

  "Lookin for the silver," Frank blabbed.

  K. B. Oden and myself could have gladly hit him with a postie.

  "What silver?" Filene shouted.

  Frank's lower lip was quivering. "The hundred thousand that's on the Empress."

  Filene just harrumphed and dropped his eyes to the bundle in the bottom of my boat. "An' you found a dead man?"

  "Yes, Cap'n," said Frank, about to be sick again.

  (Kilbie and I never had much respect for Frank after that time.)

  Keeper Midgett took one of my oars and turned the dead man over, prompting Frank to go "Ooooooohhhattttttt" and run down the beach.

  I looked away myself.

  The next afternoon, I felt like I was on trial. Mama, Teetoncey, Kilbie, Frank, and myself all sat in the messroom of Heron Head Station with Filene Midgett acting like a magistrate.

  He addressed himself to Teetoncey. "Is what I heerd true? I frankly didn't believe it, not with these boys involved." He wagged his head at us.

  She nodded.

  "You mean there is twenty thousand pounds o' silver on that shoal? A hundred thousand dollars?"

  She nodded again.

  Filene cleared his throat. "Miss, I never question the truth, but this time I..."

  Tee interrupted. "It is true, Captain."

  Despite his official position, old wrecker blood charged up through Filene's veins and his eyes grew to the size of muskenong grapes and then went back to pinpoints. "Rachel," he said, "I'm ashamed o' you for not tellin' me."

  Mama bristled. "I did not know a thing till last night. The time before, I thought they were jus' foolin' aroun' out on that bar."

  They all looked at me as if it was totally my fault.

  In fact, Filene gazed long at me. "You any ideer what's gonna happen? Word'll be all over by nightfall. Ever fool for five hundred miles'll start thinkin about ways to git that bullion. Ever criminal from Baltimore south'll be packin' his kit within a week. Top o' that, the British consul, a man I dislike, will surely lay claim for Her Majesty."

  I thought: And you can bet the greedy U.S.A. government will try to scoop up a big chunk just to run the Post Office department. I had given up hope of shares myself but dared to ask, "What about Teetoncey here? It was her papa's money."

  For a second, the O'Neals were united. Mama chimed up, "Yes, what about Teetoncey?"

  Filene
stared at us. "Maritime laws govern salvage. You know that, Rachel."

  Already, they were planning to rob Teetoncey of her rightful money and it was sure that Uncle Salisbury would be packing his own bag to get aboard the Lucania. Greed was everywhere.

  Filene got back to me. "What'd you see out there, Ben?"

  With all our plans definitely gone to seed, I looked at Mama; then at Kilbie, Frank, and Tee. There wasn't any use to withhold information. Old Filene would likely be nosing around by dusk. "We saw nothing that you didn't see, Cap'n. But Kilbie thinks he knows the location of the silver."

  Filene glanced at Kilbie, going "Umh-huh, umh-huh." He scratched his close-cropped head, maybe fighting off the inclination to go out and do a little personal salvage work himself. "Where, Kilbie?"

  "A few feet back from the mainmast," Kilbie answered. "Tee said her papa strapped 'em off to the mainmast where it entered the cabin deck."

  "I see," Filene said, many thoughts probably turning over under that prickly gray scalp.

  Mama asked insistently, "Filene, who does own that silver?"

  "That's a difficult question. First, we'll have to determine if it was on the manifest, providin the Barbadoes has a copy. If it wasn't, Teetoncey's papa was doin' a lil' smuggling..."

  Tee gasped and Mama said sharply, "Watch your tongue, Filene."

  The keeper countered, "Rachel, we've had three ships to my knowledge that carried gold or silver without listin it. I'm bringin up the possibility."

  Mama huffed. "Well, jus' don't bring it up till your facts are clear, an' you still haven't answered my question. Who owns that silver?"

  "It's very tricky, Rachel. We'll jus' have to let the law decide..."

  Fare thee well, Teetoncey's rightful money, I thought.

  Mama took a deep breath. "As this is a time for confession, Filene, I must tell you that Teetoncey does have relatives in London."

  He blinked at the castaway girl.

  "I didn't tell you partly because I wanted her to stay; partly because she didn't want to go."

  Filene laughed with misery. "I'll sure be glad when this winter's over." He shook his head. "Well, I guess I'll have to truck with that consul again, though someone else can board him this time. That man 11 never set foot in my command again."