Teetoncey and Ben O'Neal (6 page)

A nice fire crackled on her iron firedogs, which I had always admired, and Mis' Creedy didn't seem to be doing much of anything but sitting near the heat in a comfortable chair. A thick book was on the arm, and I made a guess she'd been reading. As a former schoolteacher in Iredell County, left with an inheritance, and now a bird painter, she had no schedule to meet other than cooking for herself. People had tried to match her off, but a plump, white-haired woman of sixty, set in her ways, is not easy to match. Besides, she was a mainlander, born in Blowing Rock, which was in the mountains. I reminded myself to tell Teetoncey not to be startled when she saw Mis' Creedy in men's pants. She was the only woman on the Banks who wore them, tucked into regular seaboots. They protected her legs when she was painting waterfowl.

It took a few minutes for me to explain exactly what was happening and Mis' Creedy accepted it with a mixture of nods and frowns. When I finished, she said, "Hmh," got up and walked over to one of her heron paintings on an easel, scanned it, rubbed her double chin, rearranged some dried wild coffee, which is a delicate fern, and came back to sit down.

"Ben, I don't know," she said, plainly worried.

"It'll only be a few days. Maybe a week," I said. "You two can talk about London." Mis' Creedy was the only one on the Banks who'd ever been to London.

She was still troubled. "I'd like to have her stay with me, Ben. Sometimes it's lonely here. But have you and your mother really thought this out? She's a citizen of another country, and the consul represents that country. I think you're breaking the law."

Then I told Mis' Creedy how the consul acted just after the
Empress
wrecked, badgering the girl because she couldn't talk.

"How does Teetoncey feel about it?"

"She wants to stay awhile," I said. "She doesn't have a soul in England to go to."

Mis' Creedy sat and thought a moment more, and then laughed merrily, slapping her ample knee. "All right," she said. "It's about time I do something exciting. Bring her down. I suppose we have to keep it a big secret."

"Yes, we do," I said, thinking of all the snooping that went on from Nags Head south. "I'll bring her tomorrow night."

Mis' Creedy laughed again. "Ben, you do get yourself involved in things."

That was correct. Having been born on the dark of the moon, on an incoming tide, a hooty owl seen by the midwife to be perched in our pathway scrub oak, it was ordained that many strange things would happen to me.

Early the next night, Mama kept Boo Dog in the house so he wouldn't follow us, and then, under stars, we ambled toward Buxton Woods in the pony cart, with Tee chattering away. She was all wound up and looking forward to staying with Mis' Creedy. I listened but was more interested in the waves on the sound and the strength of the wind, knowing that Jabez was scudding down the Pamlico with Consul Calderham. I prayed that the small sharpie boat, borrowed from Cletus Gillikin, was pitching and pounding and taking on water.

A half-wild sheep appeared suddenly in the trail and that startled Tee for a moment. But the animal just plunged off into the brush and the trip was uneventful.

After settling Tee in at Mis' Creedy's, I returned to Chicky village to wait for Jabez and the consul. It was then about ten o'clock and my dead-reckoning estimate, with a fifteen-knot breeze, would put Jabez up to the Chicky dock about eleven. I knocked on the Burruses' back door to borrow a lantern and then went to the dock to wait. That breeze certainly had a cold edge on it.

Sure enough, about ten to eleven, I sighted the sharpie sail coming out of blackness and then Jabez brought the boat smartly up to the dock, dropping his canvas perfectly. I caught his line and wove it on a cleat, then looked into the boat for Consul Calderham. He was hunched on a seat. Jabez tapped him on the shoulder and then helped him out, saying to me, "Oh, it was cold 'n' wet out there tonight."

"Is that right, Jabez?" I answered, acting very surprised.

The consul stood on the dock like he was benumbed and I looked at him in the lantern glow. The roof of his derby hat appeared to have frost on it, and he was soaked from his muskrat collar to his feet. His teeth were clicking and a
zissssss
sound was coming from his blue lips. He was in terrible condition and I ran back to the Burrus store to borrow a blanket.

Eventually, we helped Mr. Calderham into the pony cart and I drove them to Heron Head Station, where we practically lifted the consul out and helped him into the warmth, where Filene was waiting.

The keeper took one look at the wet, frozen consul and was puzzled. So Jabez said quickly, "Cap'n, it was real rough out there tonight. I took more water aboard than usual."

Filene's eyes narrowed, so I left.

F
ILENE
came over midmorning to collect Teetoncey.

Mama asked, "How's the consul?"

"Not good," Filene replied. "He's got a terrible cold, Rachel. I could swear there wasn't that much wind yestiddy. Jabez can take a boat down the sound in a gale without loosenin' a peg, yet he must'a half swamped last night. The consul looked like he'd been underwater half the time."

"You need a penetrate for him?" Mama asked.

"No, I doctored him good but he is ill today," said the keeper. "Despite that, he wants to go. But he refuses to take a boat again. I'll pass him up the line overland, station to station, an' the boys can row him acrost Oregon Inlet; then git him back to Skyco by buggy for the steamer sailin'. Where's the girl?"

Mama replied offhandedly, "Gone visitin'."

"Where?"

"Don't know, Filene. We weren't expectin you this soon."

Filene frowned. "An' you don't know where she is?"

Mama shook her head. "I don't keep too close watch on her now."

Filene turned to me. "Where is she, Ben?"

I stood speechless.

"Speak up, boy," he said.

"Cap'n, I haven't seen her this morning," I said, which was true.

Filene looked at both of us suspiciously, then asked a tricky question. "Why is that dog tied up out there? You never tied him before."

I didn't know what to say but Mama took over. She laughed. "Next you'll be askin where Fid is." She stepped over to the window. "Right out there he is. Down by the marsh. Look at him."

Filene didn't budge.

Mama asked, "What's got into you?"

The keeper answered, "What's into me is that I want Ben to go find her an' bring her back to the station, kit packed."

"Ben has to work today," Mama said.

Filene answered, "All right, I'll jus' turn the off-duty crew out an' they'll find her."

"Whatever you say, Cousin," was Mama's answer.

We watched Filene go. He stopped to eye Boo Dog a moment before he went on down the path.

I started to say something but Mama held up her hand. "We best not talk about it," she said. "You might slip an' tell me where she is."

With a case of bad nerves, knowing that Luther Gaskins and Mark Jennette were probably checking door-to-door, north to south, I worked at the Burrus store. Yet I felt Tee was safe for at least another day. Knocking on every door, it would take the surfmen that long to reach Buxton Woods. Even then, if they went to Mis' Creedy's, I had an idea she'd find a way to talk around the subject.

At the same time, I needed information on what was happening at Heron Head Station so I went to Kilbie Oden's house after work and drew him outside. Kilbie could be trusted and was always one to come to the front in emergencies. I told him what I'd done with Teetoncey and why, then said, "I need a spy, Kilbie."

Those light blue eyes lit up.

"I've got to know what Filene is planning and what kind of condition the consul is in. If he's miserable enough he'll leave. If he gets too sick we might have to bury him out here. I'm hoping he'll be just miserable and not deathly; then decide to go back to Norfolk. Soon."

Kilbie nodded. "I'll mosey over to the station after while." Kilbie had been born when the moon was coming to full, which meant he'd be thrifty and probably good at business. He had uncommonly keen intelligence.

I said, "I'll probably ride to Buxton Woods tonight just in case I have to transfer her to that old mill at Big Kinnakeet. If they get close I'll do it. Anyway, see if you can get word to me tomorrow."

Kilbie nodded again, happy to help. But then he eyed me sharply. "You sure you haven't fallen in love with that girl?"

I answered truthfully. "She's been nothing but trouble." I'd been so busy with that girl I hadn't had time to go duck hunting, at which I'm inclined to be good. I also think she was ruining Boo Dog. He didn't even look at ducks anymore. But I still thought Tee could further my purpose, so she was worth the trouble.

When I got home I found that Mama had baked two pumpkin pies. She said, "Whoever is boarding Teetoncey might like these."

I agreed.

After supper I left for Buxton Woods with the pies, spending the night in Mis' Creedy's back room following a long and enjoyable listening to. They discussed London Tower.

After nine in the morning, Kilbie rode up on his papa's mule and just by the bubbling-over looks of his face, I knew he had information. We all chatted a minute and then I went outside with Kilbie.

He said, "That consul
is
sick an' miserable but not dyin'. All he wants to do is git that girl an' leave here. Forever. He's sleepin in that room with Filene an' is beside himself. You know how hot Filene keeps his room with that kerosene heater, an' how bad he snores..."

I nodded.

"Also, the consul is mad at Filene because he can't produce the girl an' now Filene is mad at him. Last night at supper the consul cleaned his specs while the keeper was blessin' the food. An' Filene looked out o' the corners o' his eyes an' caught him. You know that no one moves at that table while Filene is prayin."

I did know that and had to laugh. The consul couldn't have made a worse mistake. Things were working out fine.

"So Filene wants him to leave, as much as he wants to go. But..." (Kilbie always had an annoying habit of leaving the bad news until last) "...there's a problem, Ben. They all figure you're hidin the girl now, an' Filene thinks he knows how to find her."

"How?"

"He's gonna turn Boo Dog loose this mornin an' he's bettin that hound'll come right to Teetoncey."

I steamed. I'd never heard of such a dirty trick. Filene was using my own dog to trap the girl. "I wish that dog would go to Pea Island and stay."

Kilbie said, "If you brought her down here with Fid, an' she didn't walk any of the way, Boo might not be able to track her."

Boo was smarter than that. "He'll get a whiff of Fid and come straight here, and Filene'll be watching every wag of his tail." I could picture the keeper loping along behind Boo as he zigzagged and sniffed his way south.

We sat for a moment on Mis' Creedy's split-rail fence and then Kilbie had an idea. "Why don't I take her to the mill on the mule, an' you walk Fid north in the water for a while, so Boo will lose his scent. Then turn Fid loose. That hound'11 circle hisself crazy."

It was a good Kilbie idea, as usual, and we accomplished it, borrowing several blankets from Mis' Creedy plus some food. Teetoncey wasn't upset at leaving Mis' Creedy's, though she had enjoyed staying there. She now looked forward to spending several nights in the mill. I did not tell her that some Hatteras rats also liked to live in that mill, dining on old corn leftovers.

Of course, I was not at Mis' Creedy's when Filene arrived in early afternoon, courtesy of the gold hound. But I heard some of the story later. Mis' Creedy, not wanting to tell a lie, admitted to the keeper that Teetoncey had been there but had gone again, to where she did not know. Then, as Kilbie predicted, Boo went in circles along the edge behind Mis' Creedy's cottage. No one was with Filene so I do not know his reactions but I must guess that he called Boo Dog every possible stupid name, short of cussing him. They deserved each other for trying such an underhanded trick.

There were some tow sacks of cornhusks underneath the millhouse and we carried them up and inside, spreading the husks on the floor for a mattress. Then I found an old bait trap down on the sound bank and brought it up to store our sack of food, so the rats wouldn't change their diet.

Close together under the blankets to keep warm, lying on the floor of the mill on the husks, near the heavy stones that had ground corn for a half century, Tee and I talked a lot that night. There was enough light breeze to make the tattered vanes, tied down so they wouldn't rotate, rattle and creak. We could hear the surf faintly from across the island but being winter, the marsh was quiet. It was very peaceful in the abandoned mill.

"You know, I've never been outside this old Tar Heel state. I want to go everywhere, Tee. I want to see what this world is about. I'm going soon, I swear, and be a cabin boy, then get mate's papers like Reuben and sail for twenty years or so. Then come back here when I'm an old man and be a surfman, like my papa and Filene and Jabez." I'd dreamed of doing this for a long time.

"You really want to leave here?" she asked.

"I cannot wait."

Tee said, "Ben, some people would like to trade lives with you. City dwellers, I mean."

I had to laugh. "Stuck out here on sand, without a railroad; not even a steamship dock within ten miles. Not even a street with a lamp on it. We don't even have a chamber toilet on these islands."

Tee looked over. "There are boys in London who'd give anything to have what you have. I think it's the most exciting place I've ever been."

Maybe she was still daft from hitting her head on the hard bottom in the surf.

"There's nothing out here except birds, fish, sand, and wrecks," I protested.

"It's very beautiful in its own way. You just don't see it."

Just then a rat, about a foot long, came edging down a beam for a look around. His beady eyes glittered.

Tee saw him and sucked a breath. "Whats that, Ben?"

Knowing that women do not take very well to rats, I said, "Just an old beautiful coon snooping around."