by Jean Fischer
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.”
From somewhere above them came the whirring of an engine. Bailey looked up expecting to see a small plane flying overhead, but nothing was in the sky.
“What’s that noise?” she asked.
“It’s coming from the lookout,” said Sydney as the crate lifted off the trailer and up into the air. “Mr. Wright has a gasoline-powered pulley up there. That’s what’s making the noise. It’s lifting the crate to the top of the lighthouse.”
Sydney and Bailey took turns with the binoculars watching the crate rise. Mr. Wright guided it over the top of the railing and set it on the narrow floor. Once it was safely secured, Captain Swain went inside.
“He’s going up by Mr. Wright,” said Sydney. “Now’s a good time to get your bike. You watch, and I’ll go this time.” She handed the binoculars to Bailey before heading up the narrow brick path. When Sydney got near the door, she heard two men talking inside. She hid next to the porch and listened. One of the voices she recognized as the captain’s. The other was the younger voice they’d heard on the beach.
“She’s locked up in our equipment shed,” said the young man.
“Good,” said Captain Swain. “A job well-done, Drake, a job well-done.”
Digger! Sydney thought. He was on the beach with the captain.
“I’ve taken care of all the paperwork,” Captain Swain continued. “You won’t have to keep it a secret anymore. Tonight, I’ll help you fix the problem with the rudder. Then you’re on your way.”
“I’m nervous about people seeing it,” Drake answered.
“My boy, an anxious heart weighs a man down,” said the captain. “Just me and God talking to you.”
Sydney grabbed Bailey’s bike and rushed back to the bench. “Drake’s in there, too!” she told Bailey. “They have someone locked in their equipment shed!”
“Who?” Bailey asked.
“I don’t know,” Sydney answered. “Drake said, ‘She’s locked up safe in our equipment shed.’”
“The lighthouse lady!” Bailey gasped. “They’ve kidnapped her.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Sydney answered as she laid Bailey’s bike on the grass. “Do you really think they’ve kidnapped her? And why would they do that?”
“What else did they say?” Bailey asked as she handed the binoculars to Sydney.
“Tonight, the captain is helping them fix some sort of problem, and then they’re leaving. The captain said that after that they’ll be on their way.” Sydney sat down next to Bailey.
“See,” said Bailey. “I am right. They’re aliens, and Captain Swain is helping them. They’re taking the lighthouse lady with them. She’s being abducted by aliens!”
Sydney watched while the Wrights and Captain Swain pried open the wooden crate. “Bailey, I still believe that there’s a logical explanation for all this. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
Bailey sighed. “So now what?”
“I think we need to go to the crab fest tonight. We can go to the Wright’s place when it’s dark out, and then we can see what’s going on.”
Up on the lookout, the men were lifting something out of the crate.
“It’s a big telescope!” Sydney said as she handed the binoculars to Bailey.
“They’re setting it up,” Bailey observed. “They’re attaching it to the railing up there. Now the captain is looking through it. He’s looking out at the ocean.” Bailey handed the binoculars back to Sydney. “I think they put it there so they can watch for the Mother Ship tonight.”
Sydney didn’t even bother to argue with Bailey about the alien idea. Mr. Wright was lowering the chain, and the empty crate dropped to the ground.
“I think they’re leaving,” said Sydney.
The girls waited to see what would happen next. Mr. Wright and Digger were the first to come out the front door. They walked across the grass to Schoolhouse Road. Then they turned west toward home. The captain came out next. He locked the door behind him and started down the front porch stairs. When he got to the bottom, he stopped.
“Oh no, my backpack!” said Bailey.
Captain Swain picked up the backpack and read the name on its ID tag: BAILEY CHANG. He looked around. Then he set the backpack on the lighthouse steps and drove away on his tractor.
Questions
Sydney’s grandparents agreed that the crab fest would be a fun activity for the girls. As they got ready to leave, Bailey flung her backpack over her shoulders.
“At least he didn’t take it with him,” she said. She was talking about what had happened that morning when Captain Swain saw her backpack by the lighthouse porch.
“I’d feel better if your name wasn’t on it,” said Sydney. “If Mr. Wright saw you looking through the window and described you to the captain, he might have put two and two together.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Bailey answered.
“Let me check in and see if any of the girls have sent anything,” Sydney said.
Sure enough, when she logged on the computer, she found a couple of notes on the private wall of the Camp Club Girls Web site.
Alexis: I watched an old TV show today and it made me think about your problem with the identity of Captain Swain. On the show, two grown-up cousins looked so much alike that they were mistaken for twins. Sometimes that happens—a family resemblance may be strong in several people, even if they’re not brothers and sisters, or children of the person they look like. We know the original Captain Swain didn’t have any sons, so your Captain Swain couldn’t be his son. But maybe he’s a cousin of the original Captain Swain or something.
Kate: I’ve been thinking about Captain Swain, too. Bailey, I’m like Beth—I don’t believe in ghosts. And ghosts don’t own property—according to the law, no dead people can own property. But I looked on the Internet and found that there’s a Captain Swain with the address of Duck, North Carolina. When I Googled Duck, I found out it’s just south of Corolla. So it sounds like your Captain Swain is a legitimate resident of the area!
“Sounds like one mystery is solved, anyway,” Sydney said.
“I don’t know,” Bailey said. “It sounds convincing, but I think I’m going to confront Captain Swain and ask him for myself.”
Sydney grinned. Sometimes Bailey was so dramatic!
“Well, come on,” Sydney said. “Maybe you’ll see him at the crab fest and you can ask him there!”
By the time the girls arrived in Corolla Village, the sun had just set. A crowd had gathered at the Corolla Village Bar-B-Q where glowing paper lanterns were strung from tree to tree. On the front lawn, steam rose from a huge, black pot over a fire. Two cooks from the restaurant dumped buckets full of crab
s into the boiling water. Then they added Old Bay seasoning, ears of corn, onions, and small new potatoes.
“Yum, that smells good,” said Bailey. On a small stage, at the edge of the parking lot, the Wild Horse Band was playing a tune. Bailey grabbed Sydney’s hands and swung her around in time with the music.
“Woo-hoo! Let’s hear it for the crab fest!” Bailey squealed.
As the girls spun, Sydney glimpsed the Kessler twins arriving with their brothers and mom and dad.
“The twins are here,” she told Bailey when the music stopped. “We probably have to hang out with them, but we need to get away to investigate the Wrights’ place. Listen, don’t say anything about what we’re up to, okay? They can’t keep a secret.”
“Have they seen us?” Bailey asked.
“I don’t think so,” said Sydney.
“Then why don’t we go over to the Wrights’ now? We can see what’s going on and then come back here and hang out with the twins.”
Sydney agreed, and soon she and Bailey were walking up Schoolhouse Road in the direction of the sound. When they got to Persimmon Street, they saw a narrow, sandy road marked PRIVATE DRIVE.
“This must be it,” said Sydney. She remembered her grandmother saying the Wrights’ lived on a wooded private road off Persimmon. “Gram knows a potter who lives on this road, and the Wright’s place is just beyond hers. It’s at the end of the drive, I think.”
The girls turned onto the sandy lane and walked along the edge of the woods.
“I wish we had a flashlight,” said Bailey. The only light came from porch lights along the way. The road was barely wide enough for two cars to pass, and it was deserted. Either all the residents were at the crab fest or they were inside their houses.
Bailey noticed that these houses weren’t like most others on the Outer Banks. These were old-fashioned, two-story cottages with narrow front porches and gabled roofs. They looked like they had been there forever.
Who-who-whooooo-who-who. A great-horned owl called from a distant tree.
“I feel like I’m back at Discovery Lake Camp,” said Bailey. “This place is spooky. It’s so dark and deserted. Syd, are you sure you want to do this?”
