Filene ordered the barge to be moved. Malachi Gray, along with Mark, ran to pull the two anchors that had her locked to the shoal. Then a dozen men pushed her maybe twenty feet broadside up the bar, opposite the hole.
I joined them.
Teetoncey was standing on the bow and looking down at the chests.
Filene asked, "Those the ones?"
She nodded and then walked aft, as if she didn't care a thing in the world about them.
Two or three men grabbed new line and worked it around the chests while others shoveled frantically to keep the wet slime from covering them.
Filene shouted, "I need three or four men up here to heave in."
Jabez was already on the purchase line, waiting.
The men scrambled aboard and began to heave.
The heavy chests came slowly out of the sand with a sucking noise, and then the shovelers left on the bar helped ease them across until they were directly under the bow of the Beulah.
There wasn't too much time to spare. Slack water was over and in another ten minutes the shoal would be visited with a fresh tide.
Soon, the two bullion chests dangled from the bow of the Shallowbag Beulah and Filene yelled for everyone to get aboard.
I clambered back up, along with all the shovelers. They were talking now, all right. Chittering and chattering; jabbering, speculating just how much this twenty minutes of shoveling would add to their pockets.
I took a good look at the locked chests. They were brass bound as Tee had said; the wood was dark from waterlogging. That wouldn't hurt the silver, of course. It was hard to believe. A hundred thousand dollars hung in the air from the bow of the Beulah.
Filene yelled, "All right, let's head for the beach."
Cap'n Davis promptly got his crew into the Chicky boat; Filene's crew climbed into the Heron Head boat, and then they drifted off forty or fifty feet to begin the tow to shore in tandem.
Filene shouted again: "Cast off when you're ready."
Several of the men pulled the anchors up and we were free of Heron Head. The two boat crews bent to oars and we started heading seaward. Soon, we'd turn and go south along the shoal and then angle in toward shore, taking advantage of the southing current.
From the beach, it must have been quite a picture: the Beulah, loaded with people, a fortune in bullion dangling from the bow, being towed by two surfboats manned with oarsmen.
All the men were standing near the chests like two-legged vultures, just yapping happily, and I stood there myself for a while, vulture like the rest. Then I went to the stern, where Mama and Tee were seated on the fish box.
Mama asked, "Ben, how much water we in?" She coughed and drew the oilskins closer around her throat.
I looked down over the side. We were now about seven hundred yards away from the shoal, seaward, and I'd always heard there was ninety to a hundred feet in this spot. "Ninety, hundred feet," I said.
Mama asked Teetoncey a strange question. "You've thought it all over again? Last time, Tee."
Tee said, "Please, Mrs. O'Neal."
I was puzzled when Mama got up and started walking forward. I'd noticed she'd brought a big canvas drawstring bag with her but didn't know why. I thought maybe she'd brought some crochet work out, although Atlantic swells weren't the place to do that.
I followed as Mama walked straight to the bow, threaded through the men, and opened that bag. I saw something flash and realized it was our butcher knife.
There was a loud pop and a kerplop, a big splash, and one hundred thousand dollars in bullion was diving on its way to the bottom. Frayed rope waved in the air. It happened so quick that the men didn't realize it for a second.
Mama was already walking back toward Teetoncey when Hardie Miller gasped, "Gawd-almighty."
I felt somewhat the same myself, staring down as we passed over a crown of saltwater belches.
15
IN A MOMENT, there was shouting from the lifesaving boats and all the surfmen stopped rowing to look at that forlorn, empty line going to and fro in the sea breeze.
Hardie Miller yelled over to Filene in anguish, "Rachel cut it!" I thought he'd either weep or bash Mama.
Filene was now standing in the stern of the Heron Head boat, openmouthed. I thought he would roar. Instead, he squeezed out, "I don't believe it."
In the boats they were all stunned.
Suddenly, people on shore began hollering, observing that the chests were no longer hanging like big tubers beneath the oak jacklegs. I was told later that they thought some fool fisher hadn't tied them off properly.
Worst of all was the barge itself. All the men were yelling at Mama, circling around her like a pack of coon dogs. Some were jumping up and down. Some were pounding their fists. A few were looking down over the stern to spot the chests, a hopeless endeavor in ninety-odd feet of water. We had been passing over a trench.
In a pure daze, and doing my duty as the only male O'Neal on the barge, I finally stood by Mama and Teetoncey, not really convinced that I'd seen her slash that line. Also, I wasn't at all sure I should own the Widow O'Neal at this point. I glanced at Tee. Her face showed fright, understandably. This kind of thing probably did not occur in Belgrave Square.
I remember Mama sat there like a statue, very straight, not really letting her eyes focus on any of them. She was looking everywhere but at those men. The shawl was pulled tight around her head; her muddy garden boots stuck out from her long skirt. She coughed now and then but plainly, nobly ignored them. That butcher knife was across her lap. It had a mean blade. Why, I thought, she's as tough as any of them.
"Woman, you have to be crazy," Hardie Miller frothed, as one sample. There were others. Equally disparaging.
Mama finally spoke to them, matter-of-factly. "That money belonged to this lil' girl, an' not one o' you thought anythin' but miserly. An' the people on shore jus' wanted to git their hands on it. Not for Teetoncey, though."
"But, Rachel, you had no right," shouted the usually calm, kindly Mr. Burrus.
Mama replied evenly, "The sea giveth an' the sea taketh away..."
That did not quite make logic since Rachel O'Neal was not the representative of the sea by any means.
Old-time wrecker blood curdled as we drifted in confusion for another ten minutes.
When the barge was beached, there was great babbling while the people onshore tried to find out exactly what had happened to the bullion. Meanwhile, I was helping Mama and Tee down.
Mama didn't seem disturbed at all. She said to me, "Let's git Fid an' go home. We accomplished what we set out to do, thank the good Lord."
Go home, if we can get there, I thought. Lynching was not unknown in North Carolina.
The British consul ran up. He was livid. Before he could even sputter, Mama fixed him with a "Good day, sir." She was still holding the butcher knife.
Then Filene, having disembarked, tromped up. With wonderment, he said, "Rachel, you did not do that on purpose?"
"I sartainly did," said Mama, very unflinching.
Before Filene could speak again, the U.S.A. Treasury man charged in. They were coming from all directions. "I'm going to have you arrested," he said, as frothing as Hardie Miller.
The keeper blinked. Immediately putting his hands on his hips, Filene said, "Say again!" That blockhead went forward like a pecking rooster.
The U.S.A. man repeated, though not as forceful, "I'm going to put this woman in jail for destruction of federal property."
Suddenly, it got so quiet on that beach that you could have heard two feathers colliding. All the Bankers started coming up, even Hardie, moving in close to Filene and Mama. In a few seconds, that fancy-dressed government man found himself completely surrounded by surfmen and fishers, most of them six feet tall and not a twinkle in any eye.
I do not think that mainlanders really understand us. That poor U.S.A. man just didn't know how to figure this situation. He'd heard everybody else raging at Mama.
Filene said quietly,
"This is John O'Neal's widow."
Enough of that subject.
Mama smiled knowingly at Teetoncey and myself. "Ben, Teetoncey, come go home with me."
She gathered her skirts and off we went.
A while later, Cousin Filene and Jabez came up to the house. They were both laughing. Filene said, "Rachel, now that I've had time to sort it all out, I was never prouder o' you than this afternoon."
I felt the same myself. I was just as proud of that woman as I'd ever been of John O'Neal.
Many people came by during the late afternoon and early evening to talk and laugh. We come to find out that Mama and Tee had put their heads together the previous day and decided to send that silver to the bottom for many reasons. The women couldn't get over Mama sitting on that fish box with a butcher knife instead of a Bible on her knees. They were tickled about that.
Everybody also enjoyed the part about Filene and the U.S.A. Treasury man, when Filene said, in a muted foghorn voice, "This is John O'Neal's widow." That man wilted in his pants.
It was told and retold.
What it really was—Mama had prevented us Bankers from making fools out of ourselves over a lot of silver.
What a time.
16
BUT THAT PROUD, raw, and interesting day on the Shallowbag Beulah took its toll. Mama's cold got worse and her cough deepened. She had chills and fever, and Sunday morning, four days later, she said, "Ben, I got to stay in bed. You fix the food."
Tee got some cold water in the sink bucket and began to change rags on her forehead every hour, but by noon, her breathing was very harsh.
I rode over to Heron Head and asked Filene to call Doc Meekins and then come over himself. He called right away, but Meekins was up in Elizabeth City for the weekend, probably gambling, and wouldn't be back until Monday. With his own doctor bag and medicine book, Filene returned with me.
He talked briefly to Mama, and then used his stethoscope to listen to her lungs. In the front room he said, "Ben, she's not good. Go tell Jabez to call Hatteras Station. Have Mis' Mehaly ride up with whatever she's got for pneumonia."
Pneumonia.
"She took a penetrate this morning, Cap'n," I said.
Filene nodded. "I'm gonna give her somethin now, too. But Mis' Mehaly may have somethin else. It's hard pneumonia, Ben, and that means we got to fight."
I rode over to Heron Head, and then came back, going in to see Mama. Her breathing was harsher than before. Her eyes were dull from fever.
She studied me a moment and then tried to smile. She said, "I tol' you 'bout that ocean." She'd never give up hating it. Never.
Mis' Mehaly arrived at dusk and took over, going straight to the kitchen to get a pot boiling. She had several jars of liquid and some powder in a square of newspaper.
I said to Tee, "I'd just as soon have her over Doc Meekins. She'll put Mama on her feet by midweek."
Mis' Mehaly fussed around in the bedroom awhile, back and forth to the kitchen; then she came into the front room and said to us, "She'll sleep comfortable awhile. But I got to bring that fever down. She's got lobar pneumonia, I think."
Filene said, "I'll try to git a call through to Elizabeth City. Mebbe Doc'll have a suggestion."
Filene left about the time Mis' Scarborough came in with some hot food. She served it up to Mis' Mehaly, Tee, and myself; then sat down in our rocker chair. "I'll jus' sit awhile," she said, and began to rock.
The night was long. I looked in on Mama now and then. She slept but the breathing was labored. Mis' Mehaly scarcely left the bedside, then only to get more cold water and change the rags on Mama's forehead and wrists.
Tee went to bed about midnight and I fell asleep a little later on the couch, listening to the creak of the rocker chair. I felt Mis' Scarborough covering me but didn't say anything.
The women began to come over in the morning. Mis' Gillikin, Mis' Burrus, Mis' Farrow, Mis' Fulcher, who took the Bible and put it up against Mama's side. Then Filene arrived to say he hadn't been able to locate Doc Meekins.
Most of that Monday is a blur. I sort of wandered around, in and out of the house, not knowing quite what to do while she just lay there, eyes closed and gasping for air. The women talked softly.
Tee didn't quite know what to do, either. She kept saying, "Ben, she'll get well. I know she will."
I had my doubts.
Just after dark, Tee and I were sitting in the kitchen when Filene came in. He said, "Ben, you should come."
Tee followed me into the bedroom. Mama was so white, so still. Yet her breath rattled on, though it was weak.
I asked Mis' Mehaly, "Is she...?"
Mis' Mehaly nodded.
I looked up at Cousin Filene. "What's the tide, Cap'n?"
He had to force his words. "It's on the ebb, Ben."
Death always came to Bankers on an ebbing tide.
I started to lift the covers. Mama had once said that she would have kept Papa and Guthrie alive by rubbing their feet; that a person needs a comforting hand. They reach out for help.
No sooner had I touched the quilt than Filene said, "No, Ben. She's gone loo'ard."
The breathing had stopped.
As I ran out of the room, the women began coming in to do what they had to do. I heard Teetoncey crying and calling after me but I didn't heed her.
I got Fid and rode off into the night, galloping wildly, feeling like I was going off like a flare. In all the time I'd known her, I'd never told her I loved her. But I had.
Far down the beach, almost to Big Kinnakeet, I jumped off Fid and put my head up against his sweaty neck and did explode.
Soon, I felt something around my legs. It was a panting Boo Dog. Somehow that dog knew. Somehow he knew. I knelt down.
I won't dwell longer here. It still hurts me.
The next day, we buried Mama in the Chicky graveyard, near the crosses with A for Appleton on them, Keeper Midgett reading the usual services from the surfmans manual.
I stayed at Heron Head Station for most of the next two weeks, sleeping upon a cot with the surfmen. Eating with them, and they didn't charge me a thin dime. Teetoncey stayed with Mis' Scarborough, everyone feeling it wasn't right for us to live in the O'Neal house together. I was at a loss in that house, anyway. But I saw Tee every day.
On the second day, we sat on the dock in the winter sun. Teetoncey asked, "What will you do now, Ben?"
"I'll go to sea, of course. Those were my plans." But I had not intended them to work out this way. "I'll go to Norfolk and ask around at the ship chandle houses for a cabin boy's job. Just the way Reuben did." He'd gone to sea just after his thirteenth birthday and mine was only a few weeks away.
"Ship chandle?"
"Suppliers. Or I'll just walk along the docks and ask every mate I see."
"And you'll leave this house?"
"Why, sure. Nobody'll ever bother it. Some of the women will dust now and then, I expect. Reuben'll be home after his voyage."
Then Teetoncey said a foolish thing. She said, "Ben, why can't you and I live here together."
"You mean, get married?"
"Why not?"
I wasn't about to do that. I had no intentions of being a father by the time I was fourteen. If ever. However, I did not want to hurt her feelings. I said, "I don't think it's legal. There's not a preacher in all North Carolina who'd marry two younguns together."
Tee sighed. But it was a nice thing for her to suggest.
"Anyway," I said, "you've got to go back to London and run your own house."
The consul had notified Filene that he wanted her to come to Norfolk on the railroad the following week. Although she was welcome to stay at the Scarboroughs, I think she was ready to go. There comes a time when you have to go from one part of life to another. It was about now, for both of us.
Tee said, "Ben, what will you do with Fid and Boo Dog?"
I'd been thinking about that. "Fid can take care of himself. These tackies have been out here for a hundredfold years.
He feeds himself in the marsh. But I'm sure Jabez will check on him occasionally. Ride him now and then to make sure he doesn't go wild."
"How about Boo Dog?"
"Well," I said, "I was thinking you should take him, if you will. He has sure taken to you, and his gold coat goes with your hair."
She got all watery eyed.
I said, "How about it?"
"I'd like that very much."
So that was settled. We walked on toward the Scarborough house. Midway, she put her hand in mine. I left it there.
The next week, Tee packed what few things she had and along with Boo Dog, we departed Chicky dock in a sharpie, with Jabez at the tiller; Mark Jennette as crew. A lot of people were there to see her off, this castaway girl having caused quite a stir on the Outer Banks. Everyone was fond of her.
We jabbered back and forth at each other all the way to Skyco where we'd meet the Neuse, the white steamer with "Norfolk & Southern R. R." painted on its side. The Neuse would get her to Elizabeth City by 10 A.M. the next morning to catch the train.
At Skyco, we all boarded the steamer. Those are nice ships with a spacious foredeck and benches to sit on; four lifeboats and a big raft. She'd be safe as Boos fleas on that ship for the inland passage. Food smells came out of her galley. Candy and apples were for sale.
When it was time to go, she went to the head of the gangway with me. I said good-bye to Boo Dog, and then stood up.
She said, "Ben, I love you."
I said, "I love you, too," without flinching a fraction.
Then she kissed me full on the lips. That wasn't at all bad. That girl had surely mommicked me.
Then Jabez, Mark, and myself waited on the dock while the vessel's lines were being slipped.
Tee called down, "Write to me, Ben."
I promised I would.
Then Boo Dog put his paws up on the rail and started barking his fool head off at me.
I said to him, "Have fun in London, you crazy hound." Wouldn't you know he'd get to see the world before I did.
The Neuse sounded her whistle, breaking the quiet of the sound country, raising ducks and gulls; then backed out toward the channel. Soon, smoke puffing from her high stack, she was headed north for the Pasquotank River and Elizabeth City.