The Green Beans, Volume 4: Shipwrecked on Smuttynose Island
Page 20
The Beans worked their way down the slope, passing through an area of dunes as they approached the cavern. Crabs scuttled from between the long, thick blades of beach grass, disturbed as they were by the odd passage of two humans, a Labradoodle, and a flying squirrel.
“More of these crabs, eh? These things were everywhere on the beach where our ship was wrecked. In fact, I found one of them in my shoe!” Neil commented.
“They certainly are abundant,” Jack agreed.
Nibbler chuffed quietly, and Murphy eyed the scuttling crustaceans with something that might have been weary suspicion. The creatures were nearly as big as him, after all, and they outnumbered him by a vast magnitude.
“Scutta-squeak-squeak,” Murphy solemnly chirped, on the subject of the island’s inordinate crab quantities.
Neil and Jack had hunkered down somewhat, taking advantage of the cover that the tall, green-yellow beach grass provided. They doubted the keeper would be on the lookout for them, but they were taking no chances.
Nibbler had hunkered down, recognizing the current emphasis on stealth, and his shoulder blades shifted from side to side as he slinked along. Murphy had once again regained his perch in the center of Nibbler’s back (quite possibly to stay out of the reach of the great multitude of crab pincers in the area).
“There’s no sign of him… let’s keep moving,” Jack said to the others in a low voice.
They were all eager to confront the keeper and reclaim Noodles’ noggin. And so they pushed forward, passing through the dunes, over the dry hills of sand, and onto the muddy area of beach, which was littered with stones and tidal pools.
There was a great assortment of huge, charcoal-colored boulders that followed the perimeter of the cove, and as each line of incoming waves crashed against them, they created a noise that endlessly repeated, keeping a hypnotic rhythm. As the waves broke against the rocks, clouds of sea spray exploded at each impact, filling the air with moisture and the smell of salt.
The sun was in the center of the sky, and it beat down in full force. The wet boulders glistened, and the sea shone with a dazzling reflection.
The quartet kept moving, stealthily darting among the boulders. Seaweed and broken shells and driftwood were spewed every which way, having been deposited upon the shore by the ocean’s timeless rhythm.
Interestingly, there were also pieces of broken cargo and various manmade items, which had apparently found their way ashore and been smashed upon the boulders. There were shattered crates and pieces of boats, most of which were marked by the passage of much time, yellowed with age and peeling varnish.
The Beans continued their advance, until they came to stand just before the entrance of the cavern. At this close distance, they could see that it was fairly enormous, looking even larger than it had from afar.
It looked a shade ominous, as well. A lone seagull was perched at the apex of the cavern’s entrance, and a dozen or so crabs milled about, scrambling over rocks and sand.
“Gah!” Neil whooped, as he spotted something inside the cavern that seemed to have completely beggared his mind.
“What is it?” asked Jack, but his friend was already running ahead.
In his excitement, Neil abandoned caution and sprinted into the cavern, the soles of his sneakers splashing in shallow pools of seawater as he went.
“Come on!” he called to the others, who trailed behind him. “We have to check this out!”
Jack hurried to catch up, trying to keep sight of Neil as the cavern became increasingly dark. “What is it? And keep your voice down, Neil, or we’ll lose the element of surprise,” Jack whispered, his voice tense with urgency.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” Neil said, reducing his own voice to a matching whisper. “I just got so excited - you have to - you just have to come and see this!”
Jack’s eyes had not adjusted to the darkness of the cavern as quickly as Neil’s had. But as he continued forward, becoming enveloped in the blackness, it was not long before he was able to see his surroundings much better. The cavern was, if anything, even larger than it had appeared from the outside.
Much of it was filled with seawater, and a makeshift dock had been assembled with assorted pieces of driftwood, mismatched lumber, and old rope. The style of construction looked remarkably similar to that of the ancient bridge that had been destroyed earlier.
It appeared that the dock and the bridge had both been built by the same person, a person who improvised and used whatever was available. The dock and the bridge were almost certainly the handiwork of the keeper, the crazed recluse who had claimed this island for his own.
Tethered to the makeshift dock was the thing that had gotten Neil so excited: a remarkable ship the likes of which was seldom seen. It was a finely built vessel, elegant and sleek of profile.
There were no modern materials, such as fiberglass, which was the synthetic material most frequently used to build boats over the past century. This ship was strictly wood, indicating that it was very old. Despite its age, it was in excellent condition, and it looked as if its owner did a fantastic job taking care of it.
The cavern provided a superior shelter for the ship. Here, it would be protected from the fury of violent storms... as well as from the prying eyes of would-be-interlopers. It was clear that the keeper valued his solitude upon the island above all else.
Peering over the edge of the hull, the Beans could see many ropes that were tied to the mast, as well as coiled on the deck. The sails were currently rolled tight, but they appeared to be fabricated from a weathered, faded black cloth. A large, old-fashioned steering wheel stood waiting upon the deck, and behind it there was a closed door that led to the ship’s cabin.
“Ah-roo,” Nibbler said in appreciation of the fine vessel, while Murphy quietly squeaked upon the Labradoodle’s back.
At the stern of the ship, a number of words were printed in bold, black letters. It looked like they had been painted by hand, for the edges of the letters displayed the minor imperfections that were the result of human touch, as opposed to something machine-made. The Beans stared up at the curious phrase, pondering its meaning.
Chapter Twenty-One
Queen Anne’s Mild Rebuttal