by Jean Fischer
Sydney carried it over to the desk and turned on a lamp in the room. It was nearly dark outside, and it had begun to rain. Bailey pulled up a chair and joined her.
Sydney: They’re related to the Wright brothers. You remember them, don’t you? They invented the airplane, and they made their first flight down the coast from here near Kitty Hawk. Nate is a distant cousin or something. He has a son named Drake, but everyone around here calls him Digger. I think he’s around fifteen.
Kate: How cool is that? You actually know relatives of the Wright brothers!
Sydney: I don’t know them. They keep to themselves. The only time anyone sees Mr. Wright is when he’s testing an invention, and Digger only comes out when no one else is around or when he’s helping his dad.
Elizabeth: Why do they call him Digger?
Sydney got up and slid the glass doors closed. It was raining hard now, and the beach was empty. It was too rainy for ghost crab hunting, or anything else for that matter. She sat back at the desk.
Sydney: Because he picks up junk on the beach. I’m not sure what exactly, but it’s usually stuff that washes up on the shore. The other morning, Bailey and I saw him stuffing things into his backpack. Sometimes he walks along the water with a strange cart. He fills it with driftwood and stuff, but if he sees anyone coming, he leaves.
Bailey took the computer from Sydney.
Bailey: I’ve seen him a couple of times. He’s kind of cute. He’s tall, thin, and tan, and he has shaggy blond hair. He looks like a surfer.
McKenzie: Mmm. What’s Mr. Wright like?
Sydney: Imagine Santa Claus on a bad day. He’s older with a sunburned face, a scruffy white beard, and white hair that hangs over his collar. He always wears a red baseball cap and bib overalls.
“And cowboy boots,” Bailey added.
Sydney: And cowboy boots. Mr. Wright is an inventor. At least that’s what people say. He doesn’t talk much. This summer, he’s experimenting with cluster ballooning as a green way of transportation.
Elizabeth: So in the future, we’ll all travel in chairs powered by balloons?
Sydney: If Mr. Wright has his way.
Alexis: I think your captain fits in with the Wrights, but I can’t figure out the missing piece. So far, we have a 100-year-old Captain Swain, a younger Captain Swain who looks like him, a kid who picks up junk on the beach, and an inventor who flies in a chair powered by balloons.
Bailey was busy thinking. She licked her lips and borrowed the laptop from Sydney.
Bailey: Maybe they’re all modern pirates. Mr. Jones, at the museum, said pirates were still around when the ghost ship disappeared. Maybe Nate Wright has invented a flying machine that scopes out ships at sea. Maybe it has a big hook that snatches the cargo. Then, he drops it on the beach, and Digger picks it up. I’m still not sure what the ghost captain does, though.
McKenzie: Maybe they’re divers and scavengers. Divers find old shipwrecks and rummage through them looking for stuff to sell. Aren’t there tons of old wrecks off the shores of the Outer Banks?
The rain was falling harder now. It drummed on the roof over Sydney and Bailey’s room.
“That’s the best theory yet,” Sydney said to Bailey. “Don’t you think so?”
Bailey was chewing her lower lip. “It makes sense,” she answered. “But what about the captain? We still don’t know who he is, or how he’s involved.”
Sydney: We like your theory, Mac, but how does Captain Swain fit in?
Kate: And what about that other guy on the beach, the one the captain was talking to this morning. Do you have any theories about him?
Elizabeth: A kid’s young voice, or a man’s young voice?
Sydney: A young man’s voice. Lots of boys are around here. It could have been anyone.
Kate: Could it have been Digger?
McKenzie: I was just going to suggest that.
Alexis: I was thinking it too.
The rain was pelting the windows in the guest room, and Bailey sat watching the water stream down the panes. “What do you think?” Sydney asked her. “Could the voice we heard on the beach this morning have been Drake Wright?”
“I suppose it could,” said Bailey. “The only time I’ve heard him is when he yelled ‘Get back’ yesterday morning, and I don’t really remember what he sounded like.”
Sydney sighed. “Well, that would connect the Wrights with the captain. It’s an idea worth exploring.”
Sydney: We’re not sure, but it might have been. We need to investigate.
Alexis: The scavenger theory is beginning to make sense. But we still need to figure out Captain Swain. Do you know anyone else who knows him?
Sydney leaned back in her chair and thought.
Sydney: I don’t know many people in the village. I only go there when I ride my bike. I like to get ice cream at a little restaurant there and hang out by the lighthouse sometimes. I’ve never seen the captain before, but I could ask around and see if anyone knows him.
Bailey’s face lit up. “Hey,” she said. “What about the lighthouse lady?”
“Huh?” Sydney asked.
“You know. The lady who gave us the sticker books. You asked her if she’d seen the captain coming down the stairs, and she said, ‘Captain Swain.’ I remember. She used his name.”
Sydney remembered too. “You’re right! She did use his name, didn’t she? Then she definitely knows who he is. She’s new at the lighthouse this summer, so I didn’t even think about her. Good work, Bailey.”
Sydney: Bailey just remembered the lady who takes care of the lighthouse talked about the captain, so we’ll go there tomorrow and ask her.
McKenzie: That’s great! If you can find out about him, you’ll be closer to solving the mystery of the lights over the ocean.
Elizabeth: I know he’s definitely not the ghost of Captain Swain. I’ll pray tonight that you find out your beach isn’t haunted by ghosts or being invaded by aliens.
Alexis: Keep us posted. Goodbye for now from Sacramento.
McKenzie: And from big sky country.
Kate: And from Philly.
“Well,” said Sydney, shutting down her laptop. “It’s a good theory that they might be scavenging old shipwrecks.” She turned off the desk lamp.
“I guess so,” said Bailey. “Maybe the lighthouse lady will have some answers about Captain Swain when we go there tomorrow.”
Camp Club Spies
“It’s locked,” Sydney said. She stood on the lighthouse porch and pulled the door handle. “Maybe storms are coming.”
Bailey laid her bike in the grass next to Sydney’s and took off her backpack. “I don’t think so. I watched the weather this morning. We’re in for a bright, sunny day.” She threw her backpack on the ground next to Sydney’s.
“Everything’s still wet from the rain last night,” Sydney observed. “There are puddles all over the place.”
“And mud,” Bailey added. “Look at the mess you’re leaving.” She pointed to the footprints going up the front steps to the door.
Sydney lifted each foot and checked the bottoms of her tennis shoes. They were wet, but clean. “It’s not my mess,” she said. “Someone else has been here.” She knocked on the lighthouse door, but no one answered.
“The footprints are too big to be the lighthouse lady’s,” Bailey said. “They’re more like boot prints.”
Sydney knocked again.
“So now what?” Bailey asked.
“Maybe there’s a back door,” Sydney replied. She walked down the steps and disappeared around the side of the lighthouse with Bailey close behind.
The lighthouse was attached to a small, brick house. The girls discovered that it had no back door. Instead, where a back door would be, the house was connected to the tower. The sides of the house had several tall windows flanked by green shutters. Each narrow window was made up of ten little panes of glass.
“I wish I could look inside,” said Sydney. “But the windows are too high.” She
jumped up trying to peek in, but still wasn’t tall enough.
“Boost me up,” said Bailey.
“Huh?”
“Boost me up.” Bailey stepped behind Sydney. She grabbed her shoulders and swung her legs around Sydney’s hips. Then she stretched her neck to see through the window. “I’m not high enough,” she said. Bailey put her feet back on the ground. “Can you boost me up on your shoulders?”
“I can try,” said Sydney. She bent over. Bailey climbed onto her shoulders and wrapped her arms around Sydney’s neck. Then Sydney stood up and teetered against Bailey’s weight. “Can you see anything?” she asked.
“The sun’s reflecting off the glass,” Bailey answered. “Move me closer.”
Sydney took a giant step forward while trying to balance Bailey and keep herself from falling.
Bailey let go of Sydney’s neck and rested her hands on each side of the window. She pressed her nose against the glass. The room she was looking at was the office.
“Nobody’s in there,” she said. “The blue WAIT HERE TO CLIMB sign is in the middle of the room, so the lighthouse must be closed. Hey wait. Someone is moving in there. I see a shadow.” For a few seconds, Bailey said nothing. Then she pushed herself off Sydney’s shoulders and fell to the ground. “Run!” she said. She got up from the ground and scrambled with Sydney toward a grove of trees.
“What did you see?” Sydney asked as they slipped behind a big evergreen tree.
“It was Nate Wright,” Bailey answered. “He had a really long chain and was heading for the curvy staircase. I think he might have seen me.”
“Shhhh,” said Sydney. “Look.”
Nate Wright came around the side of the lighthouse. He was dressed in his bib overalls and red cap, and he looked as scruffy as ever. He stopped and looked left and right. Then as the girls watched through the thick, needled branches, he took off his cap, scratched his head, and walked back toward the front of the lighthouse.
“I think he saw you,” Sydney whispered. “I think he was looking around for you.”
“Yeah, but he has no idea who I am,” said Bailey. “Unless he recognized me from when we watched him cluster ballooning on the beach.”
“I doubt it. He was too busy to pay any attention to the crowd.”
“So now what?” Bailey asked.
“We find a safe place to watch, far enough away, where we can keep our eyes on the front door. There’s no other exit from the building.”
Bailey stepped out of the grove of trees and began walking toward the lighthouse. Sydney grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Where are you going?”
“We have to get our bikes and backpacks,” said Bailey.
“Not now,” Sydney told her. “We should leave them there. Otherwise, he might see us.”
Bailey sighed. “But if we leave them, it’s a dead giveaway that we’re here.”
“We have to take that chance,” Sydney answered. “Let’s double back through these trees. We’ll end up on Schoolhouse Road by the Village Bar-B-Q. Then we can cross the street and watch the lighthouse from there.”
Bailey followed Sydney through the trees, along a winding footpath, and over to Schoolhouse Road. They made a wide circle to avoid walking close to the lighthouse. Then they found a park bench not far from the lighthouse museum shop. From there, they could see the lighthouse and its front door.
“Look,” said Bailey, pointing upward. “He’s up on the lookout.”
From where the girls sat, Mr. Wright appeared to be a tiny figure. His red baseball cap made him easy to see. His back was to the heavy, iron railing, and he seemed to be busy doing something, but they couldn’t tell what.
“I wish I had my binoculars,” Sydney said. “They’re in my backpack.”
“No problem,” said Bailey. “I’ll get them.”
Before Sydney could stop her, Bailey was running up the brick path toward the lighthouse door. With lightning speed, she snatched Sydney’s bike and backpack. Then she hurried back to Sydney.
“There,” she said, handing her the backpack. “Mission accomplished.” She laid Sydney’s bike on the ground.
Sydney unzipped a deep pocket on the outside of the backpack and pulled out her binoculars. Then she put the eyepiece to her eyes, pointed the lens at the lookout, and focused.
“He’s pulling on something,” she said. “Wait. It’s that chain you saw. He’s pulling it through the little doorway that leads out to the lookout. Boy, is it ever long! He’s already got a bunch of it lying on the floor up there.”
“Why do you think he’s doing that?” Bailey asked. She squinted, trying to see.
“Beats me,” said Sydney. She handed the binoculars to Bailey.
Just then, a rumble came from Schoolhouse Road. Sydney looked in that direction and saw a man driving a small, green tractor. The tractor pulled an open trailer that held a tall, wooden crate. The tractor left the road and turned onto the lighthouse grounds. Sydney watched it weave around the trees and onto the path near where they sat. Then she recognized the driver.
“Bailey, turn away!” she hissed.
“What?” asked Bailey.
“Turn and face me, right now!”
The urgency in Sydney’s voice made Bailey do as she was told. She put the binoculars on her lap, turned her body sideways on the bench, and looked at Sydney’s back.
“Syd, why are we sitting like this?” she asked.
By now the tractor had passed them and was moving toward the front of the lighthouse. Sydney turned and looked at Bailey. “I didn’t want him to recognize us,” she said.
“Who to recognize us?” Bailey wondered.
“The man driving the tractor was Captain Swain!” said Sydney.
The captain was barely recognizable without his navy blue clothing. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a black tee shirt. The only thing that made Sydney sure that it was him was his neat, gray beard and the captain’s cap on his head. He drove the tractor to the lighthouse steps and stopped. As the girls watched, Captain Swain walked to the front door, took out a key, and entered.
“Look, he has a key to the lighthouse,” said Sydney.
“That’s strange,” Bailey replied. She handed the binoculars to Sydney. “Why would he have a key? Maybe it’s a skeleton key, the kind that opens any old door.”
“Hi, Sydney!”
“Hi, Bailey!”
The Kessler twins came from behind them. Each was walking with a tandem bike.
“I didn’t know you guys were going to the Village this morning,” said Carolyn.
“Me neither,” said Marilyn. “What are you doing with those binoculars?”
Sydney wasn’t about to tell the Kesslers what was going on. They had a reputation for not being able to keep a secret.
“Sometimes I like bird watching,” she said, which was totally true.
“Bird watching!” Marilyn exclaimed.
“Sydney’s a nature nut,” said Bailey. “At Discovery Lake Camp she was the only camper who knew about every animal in the woods and every bird in the sky. What are you guys doing here?”
“We’re going to pick up our brothers,” said Carolyn.
“We stopped at the Bar-B-Q first to get root beer,” said Marilyn. “Are you guys going to the crab fest tonight?” She rested her bike against the bench where Sydney and Bailey sat.
“What’s a crab fest?” Sydney asked. Captain Swain came out of the lighthouse now, and Sydney nudged Bailey with her elbow.
Sydney watched the captain as he unhitched the gate on the trailer. Mr. Wright was still on the lookout, but without using her binoculars Sydney couldn’t tell what he was up to.
“So are you going?” said Marilyn.
“Where?” Sydney asked. She was busy watching the captain as he climbed into the trailer and took the straps off the crate.
“To the crab fest!” Marilyn replied.
“Sydney asked you what it is,” Carolyn reminded her.
“Oh, yeah,�
�� Marilyn said. “The Village is having a crab boil tonight.”
“The restaurant is sponsoring it,” Carolyn added. “They’ll have a big crab dinner—”
“With corn, potatoes, deep-fried onion petals, and homemade cherry pie,” said Marilyn.
“And ice cream!” Carolyn said. “And they’re having bands and some carnival games. It’s to raise money for the lighthouse renovation. That’s a good cause, don’t you think?” She picked up her tandem and held onto the front handlebars.
“Uh-huh,” said Sydney. She noticed that Mr. Wright looked even busier up on the lookout. She nudged Bailey again, and Bailey nudged her back.
“So are you going?” asked Marilyn picking up her bike.
“I’m not sure yet,” said Sydney. “We’ll let you know.” Her fingers were wrapped around the binoculars in her lap. She couldn’t wait to look through them to see what Nate Wright was up to.
“It sounds like fun,” Bailey said halfheartedly. “So maybe we’ll see you later then.”
“Okay,” said Marilyn, hopping onto her bike and shoving off. “See you later!”
Carolyn got onto her bike and followed, “See you later,” she echoed.
Sydney sighed with relief. “I’m glad they’re gone.”
She already had the binoculars to her eyes. “He’s lowering the chain down to the captain.” Mr. Wright had the big chain wrapped around a heavy wheel-like machine up on the lookout. He was lowering one end of it to Captain Swain who was standing inside the trailer. Sydney noticed a big hook on the end of the chain.
“What do you think’s in the box?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Bailey replied. “It’s about as tall as I am, so it must be big.”
“Too big to carry up that spiral staircase,” said Sydney.
Bailey watched. “You know, Syd, I’m wondering where the lighthouse lady is. Do you think she knows what’s going on in there?”
“I don’t know,” Sydney answered. “Captain Swain just hooked the chain onto the crate.”
