“We’re going someplace special for dinner,” Grandfather announced.
Eagerly the children climbed into the car. The long trip and the salty air had made them all hungry. As Grandfather swung the station wagon onto the road, Jessie noticed a sign she hadn’t seen before.
It showed a silhouette of a horse and read, SLOW! HORSE CROSSING. She couldn’t recall seeing any stables nearby, only houses.
Moments later, Grandfather turned in to a wide driveway. Low, gray-shingled buildings with balconies faced the ocean. A sleek seagull was carved into the double doors of the main entrance. Violet noticed that the seagull had been carved using only one line. After dinner when they were back at the cottage, she would try copying that single-line bird, she told herself.
“Where are we?” she asked.
Grandfather drove past tennis courts and a glittering pool to an older building. “This is the Seagull Resort,” he replied. “It’s the only resort in the Outer Banks.”
Henry watched a couple in crisp tennis outfits walk off the courts. “This place is too fancy. I like our house better.”
“I prefer peace and quiet at the beach, but some people like a lot of organized activity,” said Grandfather. “The resort has a restaurant, though.”
“Just as long as they have food,” said Benny.
As they went inside, his eyes lit up. “Oh, boy!” he exclaimed.
“It’s like the inside of a boat,” Jessie remarked, staring at the thick ropes and huge old-fashioned pulleys in a glass case.
“It used to be a lifesaving station,” Grandfather replied. “There are several of these stations up and down the Outer Banks. This is the only one restored as a restaurant.”
The headwaiter led them to a table by one of the large windows.
Henry began reading a brief history of the lifesaving stations printed on the back of his menu. “It says here the Outer Banks used to be dangerous to ships.”
The waiter, who was filling their water glasses, nodded. “This area was once called the ‘Graveyard of the Atlantic’ During storms, ships were driven into the shallow waters and often wrecked.”
“How awful!” Violet commented.
“Yes, it was,” said the waiter. “Many men lost their lives. So in 1874 the U.S. Lifesaving Service was started. The government built seven stations. This is number five, built in 1899.”
“So exactly what did the rescuers do?” asked Jessie.
“A lot,” said the waiter. “The men worked all winter in icy waters, standing watch on the shore. When the rescuers spotted a grounded ship, they hauled their equipment down to the beach in carts pulled by the island’s wild ponies, some of which were caught and tamed for this job,” the waiter added. “Then they’d row out to the ship and bring the stranded crew to shore. It was hard, dangerous work.”
Benny was fascinated. “I want to be a rescuer, too!”
Their waiter smiled. “You can, when you grow up. The Lifesaving Service is now the U.S. Coast Guard.” He poised his pencil over his pad. “I’ve been talking too much. Do you know what you’d like?”
Grandfather ordered swordfish steak, while Jessie and Henry asked for the Carolina barbecue. Violet and Benny chose cheeseburgers with the works.
As they waited for their food, they wandered around the restaurant, which was decorated with old photographs and lifesaving gear. Jessie lingered by a picture of a crew of surfmen posed by their carts and boats. The rescuers all wore handlebar mustaches and serious expressions. One man held the bridle of a shaggy pony. Didn’t the waiter mention something about wild ponies?
Crash!
The sound of shattered dishes came from the kitchen. Voices raised in argument were heard all the way in the dining room.
Jessie recognized their waiter’s voice as she and the others returned to their table. Their waiter was obviously angry. The other voice sounded apologetic.
The waiter appeared just then, carrying a tray with the iced teas Grandfather had ordered.
“I’m very sorry,” he said to the Aldens. “A young man wanted to apply for a job as a busboy. I told him he was too inexperienced, but he insisted on lifting a heavy tray. You heard the result.” He smiled and left again.
The incident was forgotten when their food arrived. After a dessert of apple cobbler with ice cream, they drove back to Gullwing Cottage.
“It’s still early,” Benny said. “Can we take a walk?”
“Good idea,” said Grandfather, though he decided to stay behind to read. “Why don’t you go see the landward part of the island,” he suggested.
“The landward part?” asked Benny. “What is that?”
Grandfather smiled. “This island is long and narrow. Our cottage is on the seaward side, which faces the open ocean, where the waves are big. The landward side of the island faces the Carolina coast. The bridge we drove over earlier today connects North Carolina to the landward side. The water is much calmer on that side and there are docks full of fishing boats.”
“Docks? Boats?” said Benny. “Let’s go!”
The main road was busy, but the children crossed safely. They found a wooden walk that led to the docks.
Violet caught her breath when she saw the orange sun resting on the horizon. What a great spot to paint!
“Look!” Benny cried. He pointed to a large brown bird perched on one of the pilings near an older man.
The man sat on an upturned bait bucket at the end of the dock. He was untangling fishing line. The Aldens walked out to him.
“Excuse me,” said Jessie. “Is that your pelican?”
The older man laughed. “He thinks he’s mine. Out here every day, rain or shine, hopin’ to grab my catch.”
“Are you a fisherman?” asked Violet. With his gray hair, bright blue eyes, and fisherman’s cap, the man looked as at home on the pier as the pelican.
“I do a little fishin’. I catch a few crabs.” The crinkles around his eyes deepened. “You young folks on vacation?”
“Yes, sir.” Henry introduced the others and explained that they were staying a week at Gullwing Cottage. “You’re from here, aren’t you?” he guessed.
“Born and raised here. Name’s Shad Toler.”
“Shad?” asked Benny. “Is that a name?”
Jessie nudged her brother. “Benny!”
“It’s a nickname,” said Shad. “Shad is a kind of fish. My real name is Rupert. I was never fond of it, though. Shad suits me just fine.”
“Have you always lived on the island?” asked Violet.
Shad nodded. “Yes. I never saw a reason to leave. Got a piece of land here. People been after me for years to sell. I could make a lot of money if I sold it. But I won’t sell. I don’t need a lot of money. Long as I can fish a little, I’m happy.”
Henry looked along the shoreline. There were lots of houses on this side of the island.
“I bet this place has changed since you were a boy,” he observed.
“Yeah. Can’t stand in the way of progress,” said Shad. “I remember when we didn’t have telephones here. I still don’t have one hooked up. And I went to school in a one-room schoolhouse.”
“Everybody in just one room?” Benny asked. It sounded very crowded.
Shad grinned. “At recess, we’d all run up on the dune. It was bigger then. We’d play catch or five-oh. I think you call it hide-and-seek.”
Jessie imagined growing up on an island. It must have been so much fun!
“But best of all,” Shad said, “were the wild horses.”
“Wild horses!” Benny exclaimed. “Are there wild horses here?”
Shad laughed at Benny’s expression. “Haven’t you seen them? Guess not. The herd pretty much stays north of here, in that new pony pen.” He shook his head. “A shame. Wild animals ought to be free, not locked up.”
“Why are they in a pen?” Jessie asked, shocked.
Shad shrugged. “Safer, so they say. The horses like to roam. But they cross that road. In the last few years, some have been hit by cars.”
“How sad!” said Violet. She hated the idea of any animal being hurt.
“They built this pen to keep the horses from runnin’ around. I don’t like the idea myself, but it’s supposed to be best for the horses,” said Shad.
“Can we go see the horses?” Benny wanted to know.
“You can drive up there,” Shad replied. “Sometimes you get lucky and see them, sometimes not.” Then he lowered his voice and peered at them from under his bushy brows. “But if you’re real lucky, you might see a particular horse.”
Jessie leaned forward. “Which one?”
“Name’s Magic. Used to be the leader of the herd.”
“Used to be?” asked Henry. “What happened?”
The wind had picked up. Shad gazed out at the choppy waters. Whitecaps danced on the waves.
“Magic was hit by a car one foggy night,” he said. “Poor animal was killed instantly.” Violet felt a shiver trickle down her spine. “But people can still see him?”
“Yes,” said Shad. “On certain moonlit nights, if you’re real lucky, you might see the ghost of Magic, runnin’ along the beach. He’s come back to take over his herd.” |