Mr. Henley stood up and cleared his throat. “Will, that’s quite enough. These young people are here to learn some real history not listen to a ghost story.”
Will was in Mr. Henley’s face in a heartbeat, his once straight hair now curling around his head like a halo. “If you don’t think ghosts exist, then why don’t you go in the Humbolt house?”
Mr. Henley took a few steps back. “Yes, well… time for lunch,” he said meekly, rolling up his mat and hightailing it towards
the boardwalk.
“That’s what I thought,” Will shouted in the direction of the retreating Mr. Henley. He bowed to Eliza and Libby. “Good day, Ladies. Keep a lookout for ghosts.”
Sam watched Will head back over the dunes. His shoulders were slumped and his gait was uneven, as if he’d exhausted himself making the story seem real.
“He sure was into telling us that story,” Rocky said. “Almost like his life depended on making us believe it.”
Sam nodded, surprised that he and Rocky had the same idea about Will. Before he could say anything to him, Rocky took off after the girls, who were chasing after Mr. Henley.
Will’s story had raised some valid questions, like why was a 200-year-old folk tale so important to him? Why was he so upset about Captain Stover being blamed for the wreck? What was it about the Humbolt house that made Mr. Henley so nervous, and why didn’t he want to talk about the shipwreck of the Dragonfly?
As always, the need to find answers overpowered his preference to be alone and Sam reluctantly headed towards the dunes.
Chapter 3
Not too far ahead, Sam could see Mr. Henley’s short legs churning up sand with the girls and Rocky in hot pursuit. Despite his head start, they were gaining on him. Mr. Henley only made it up the stairs from the beach to a small landing before Rocky and the girls cornered him.
Sam followed quietly, keeping his distance and his head down. He stopped and sat on the steps below the landing, hopefully out of sight.
“What’s going on at the Humbolt house?” Rocky asked.
Mr. Henley was panting, but managed to get out a few words. “Nothing…nothing at all,” he said, fanning himself with his straw hat. “It’s just an old house. That’s why I don’t want to go in.
It could fall on me or something. You’ll see for yourself when we end our tour there this afternoon.”
The girls jumped in with their questions. “That’s where Genny grew up, right? Did she ever remarry? Did they have any kids?”
Rocky gave up on getting a word in edgewise and came over to sit on the landing just above Sam. “Do you think those two share the same brain?” he whispered.
Sam’s head jerked up in surprise. Again, he’d been thinking the same thing, but how was that possible? And how was he supposed to react? If he agreed with Rocky, he’d assume they were allies. Logically it followed that if Sam disagreed, Rocky would assume they were enemies. Neither outcome was desirable.
Luckily, before he could respond, Mr. Henley caught his breath and turned towards the walkway to the left.
Rocky stood up and in just a few steps was ahead of Mr. Henley, forcing him to stop.
“Look here,” Mr. Henley said, pulling back his shoulders and straightening his collar. “I’m done talking about the Humbolt house, Genny, and the Dragonfly, and whatever treasure you think any of them had. I stick to the facts, so if you want to go chasing folk tales, you’re on your own.”
Rocky shrugged and let Mr. Henley pass. Turning back towards the girls he said, “Now don’t you worry none. We’ll get our answers one way or the other, that’s for sure. But for now, let’s go get us some lunch.” He bowed and spread out his arms, “After you, Ladies.” They performed a mock curtsey, skirted around Rocky and followed Mr. Henley, their ponytails bobbing.
“The coast is clear,” Rocky called out to Sam. “I’ll see you at lunch, Buddy.”
While Sam waited for Rocky to walk away, he thought about Mr. Henley. He was giving them some facts, but omitting others. That was the same as a lie in Sam’s book. By withholding specific information he could cause the wrong conclusion to be reached. Sam started up the remaining stairs and then stopped. Maybe
Mr. Henley was doing just that. Maybe he was trying to steer them away from the shipwreck by boring them to death. And maybe he didn’t really believe Henry Humbolt’s house was haunted. Maybe he was just trying to scare them away from it. Maybe Sam could stay after the tour and explore the house himself. But that meant he needed to get back to the group to continue the tour.
Sam enjoyed the solitary walk back to the group, brushing his hand on the sea oats growing in the dunes and looking at the flowers. All too soon he saw the sign for the picnic area and turned inland onto a narrow walkway. Yaupon bushes towered above and around him, forming a living tunnel. It muffled the gentle sound of the ocean waves behind him and funneled in the unceasing chatter of the girls up ahead.
Sam looked longingly back towards the beach, but he had questions that needed answers and kept going. Nailed to a post at the end of the walkway was a small bronze plaque that read, Built and Maintained by S & H Yacht Company.
Sam walked over to the line of picnic tables where Mr. Henley had set out bag lunches and was filling red plastic cups with sweet tea. The rest of the group was seated near the food, but Sam took his lunch and drink to the very end of the last of table. He took off his backpack and set it beside him on the bench.
“What exciting stuff have you got for us now?” Rocky asked, coming up beside Mr. Henley to get more tea. Mr. Henley quickly finished pouring and started right in on another boring lecture. Rocky moved behind him, making faces at the girls. While the girls tried to control their giggling, Sam laid out his lunch and looked around.
Tall pine trees swayed overhead, but the scraggly bushes near the ground blocked any of the offshore breeze. Sam had to repeatedly swat away gnats and mosquitos in between taking bites of his sandwich. He tried to block out Mr. Henley and focus on the faint rhythmic pounding of the waves instead. The sound was the same at every beach he’d ever been to and he found it comforting and relaxing, but his peaceful time was short lived.
Rocky had made short work of his chicken salad sandwiches and lemon bars. After grabbing a peach, he sat down across the table from Sam.
“Like I said before, you’re the one with the smarts in this group,” Rocky said.
Sam slowly chewed his sandwich and sipped his tea, hoping Rocky would take the hint and leave. After a few minutes Sam gave in. “Okay, let me hear the litany of questions for the smart guy.”
“You’re right touchy about being a smart guy,” Rocky said, using the back of his hand to wipe away the peach juice dripping down his chin. “It’s a good thing, you know.”
“Sometimes,” Sam replied, then quickly changed the subject. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s a privateer?”
“It is a private warship authorized by the government to attack enemy ships. It also describes the crewmen on those ships.”
Rocky whistled, soft and low, raising his eyebrow. “So there really could be some treasure out there. I sure would like to find me some of that!”
“I doubt a single person…like you…could find what multiple salvage companies have not. In fact, some of the companies are right here in Safe Harbor. Maybe you should talk to them.”
Sam pulled out his phone and scrolled through his notes. “I have the names because sometimes their salvage operations disturb the tidal pools my parents are studying. There is Foster Salvage and Smithers Salvage and…” Sam paused and looked up at Rocky.
“And who?” Rocky asked, leaning across the table.
“And Henley Incorporated,” Sam answered.
“Henley?” Rocky asked. “As in our fearless leader over there?”
For a moment, Sam was at a loss for words. “I apologize for
not remembering that. I am not usually that absentminded,” he said.
“That’s okay. You got the scoop on him now and that’s
what counts.”
“Yes, I suppose,” Sam said. Still, he was embarrassed and angry at himself for failing to make the connection between the names. “This information could explain why he did not want us digging into the wreck of the Dragonfly.”
“Darn tootin! I bet he wants that treasure for himself,” Rocky said, glaring at Mr. Henley. “That just makes me want to find it even more. It’s not right for him to try and lead us away from it. After all, he’s had his chance to find it and failed, so now it’s our turn.” Rocky threw his peach pit into the nearby bushes with enough force to send birds flying for safety.
“Regardless of Mr. Henley’s tactics,” Sam said, “It is still unlikely that you could find what actual salvage companies with sophisticated equipment have not.”
Rocky grinned at Sam. “But they don’t have someone with your kind of smarts now, do they?”
Sam rubbed his head. He had to give Rocky credit for his tenacity.
“Look Sam, I know you think I’m crazy, going on a treasure hunt and all, but I just want to do something my brothers haven’t. Something I can be proud of all on my own.”
”Boys! I would appreciate your attention!” Mr. Henley yelled in their direction. “Your parents signed you up for this tour so you can learn about the area and you can’t do that if you don’t listen.”
“Really?” Sam snapped. “Because so far you have not told me one thing that cannot be found on the internet or in a book. In fact, in the area of shipwrecks, you have told me even less than the internet.”
Mr. Henley’s lips disappeared…again. Rocky snickered.
“Well,” Eliza said, crossing her arms and eyeing Mr. Henley up and down. “Maybe he hasn’t told us everything. But I bet your internet didn’t take you on a tour of the town.”
“Or of Henry Humbolt’s house,” Libby added.
Both girls lifted their petite chins and glared at Sam.
Sam was impressed by the precision of the movement, and smiled at the possibility that they did share a brain. But his smile faded as he realized they must have been friends for a long time to act like that. A friend was something he’d never had and probably never would.
Once again Rocky stood between the warring parties. He brushed off a few remaining lemon bar crumbs from his I Love Texas t-shirt and said, “Let’s get on with that tour then, Mr. Henley.”
Sam tossed the last of his bread crust to the birds chirping under the table and slipped on his backpack. Once everything was cleaned up Mr. Henley led the group back up the path through the Yaupon bushes. They turned right, heading into town on the boardwalk paralleling the ocean.
To their left, low tide had exposed the sandbar that had taken so many ships, including the Dragonfly. To their right, expensive new beach houses towered over modest older bungalows, each one competing for a view of the water. As usual, Sam kept to himself while Rocky was comfortable chatting with the girls.
In a few minutes, the boardwalk ended and they walked along a tree-lined street into town. Mr. Henley pointed out the cemetery and some of the historic homes. He dragged them through side streets and into the business district. Everywhere they went there was a sweet smell hanging around them like an invisible cloud.
“Smells like home,” Rocky said, inhaling deeply.
“I just love gardenias,” Libby said.
“They smell heavenly,” Eliza added.
Sam wrinkled his nose and sneezed. “The scent is rather overpowering if you ask me.”
“No one was asking,” Eliza said.
“And if we did ask, we wouldn’t ask you,” Libby added.
“The scent of the Rubiaceae family is known to induce headaches and asthma attacks in sensitive people,” Sam stated, falling back
on the comfort of facts.
“Aww,” Eliza said. “Is Nerd Boy sensitive to our southern flowers?”
Sam started to speak when Rocky stepped forward. “And maybe you ‘ladies’, and I use the term loosely, should practice some of that Southern hospitality y’all are supposed to have here. You shouldn’t jump all over someone who’s feeling poorly.”
Rocky stared down the girls until they mumbled something that could have been “sorry” in Sam’s direction.
Instead of feeling grateful, all Sam could think about was that now he owed Rocky another favor.
“Can’t you young people go five minutes without arguing?”
Mr. Henley shouted from up ahead.
The girls turned and stomped back towards him.
Rocky lowered his voice as he spoke to Sam. “Don’t think they always act all snobbish like that. Seems they got some special invite to a technology exploration conference but their parents wanted them to explore the outdoors instead.”
“Special technology conference?” Sam asked, too shocked to hide his surprise “Those two?”
“Yup, some special thing Duke University puts on every summer about problem solving and stuff. Sounds boring to me, but only certain kids get to go so they’re none too happy about being
here instead.”
“I would have preferred they had gone to the conference too,” Sam said.
Rocky punched Sam’s shoulder. “There you go! Now y’all have something in common. Next thing you know you’ll be friends.”
Sam wondered just whose side Rocky was on. First he protected Sam from the girls, then he turned around and stood up for the girls. Then he suggested Sam and the girls could end up as friends! Sam understood a lot of things, but not people.
They caught up to Mr. Henley and the girls easily, passing by a mix of old clapboard houses and shiny new souvenir shops. There was a huge Federal style house turned into the town library and a smaller home that housed the town museum. They kept walking further out of town, seeing fewer and fewer cars and people.
Sam spotted a run-down house near the bay, surrounded by empty lots. Mr. Henley’s pace slowed more and more the closer they got to it until he stopped on the corner opposite the house. The girls and Rocky marched ahead while Sam hesitated just a moment before crossing the street.
“Couldn’t anyone bother to trim a bush or two?” Libby asked, keeping to the edge of the road to avoid the overgrown weeds.
“What is this disgrace of a house?” Eliza asked, her normally pretty face twisted with disgust.
“According to the virtual tour I took,” Sam said, “This would
be Henry Humbolt’s house. You know, the one you were so anxious to see.”
“Is that right, Mr. Henley?” Eliza asked. “Is this the house where Genny lived?”
Mr. Henley just nodded, his hands nervously moving from his hips to across his chest and back again.
“Well, it sure is run down and decrepit now,” Eliza said.
“They should just tear it down.”
“Although the building is constructed of inanimate objects, it deserves to be treated with respect,” Sam said, surprised at his sudden desire to protect the house.
“Now you’re defending a run-down old house?” Eliza asked. “You’re so weird.”
Sam was struggling to find a logical explanation for his statement when Libby spoke up.
“Old houses are cool,” Libby said. “It’s like the architecture and furniture are telling a story about the people who lived there.”
Sam looked at Libby in disbelief. “Yes, we can learn a lot from the past.”
“Whatever, Libby,” Eliza said. “Go ahead and agree with Nerd Boy if you want. All that history stuff is your thing, not mine.”
Sam was shocked that he and Libby had something in common. He didn’t know if he should say anything else or not, so he turned and concentrated on the house instead. Most of the first floo
r was hidden, drowning in a sea of tall grass, bushes, and vines. Up on the second story, something in the far left window caught his attention. He felt a tingling on the back of his neck as a pale oval about the size of a young girl’s face appeared in the window. Sam rubbed his eyes and looked around for something that would account for a reflection of that shape and size, but found nothing. He stepped closer to the house, wading through the tall grass. A solitary cloud formed and blocked the sun but the shape was still there, its dark empty eyes staring straight at Sam.
Chapter 4
Beads of sweat trickled down Sam’s face and neck while he watched the shape slowly shrink away to nothing. Whatever was in the window was gone now, leaving Sam with no logical explanation for it. Rocky or Will would tell him it was a ghost, but Sam didn’t believe in ghosts. He stared at the window a few moments longer, hoping for a better explanation for what he’d seen, but the window stayed dark. Swarms of gnats and mosquitos rose from the grass and he stepped away from them and back towards the road.
Rocky and the girls were chatting, as usual, and Sam needed somewhere quiet to think. He walked down the street bordering
the side of the house until the sound of the waves drowned out Rocky and the girls.
Sam knew from his virtual tour that the Humbolt house stood alone on a small peninsula. Tall bushes blocked the view of the back yard and the water but he could hear the waves and felt a breeze.
It smelled clean and fresh and reminded him of the lavender soap his mom used. But he wasn’t here for the ocean breeze. He was here to find an explanation for what he’d seen and felt.
The virtual tour had shown a computer generated image of the house in its heyday, vibrant and alive with flower gardens and small wisteria vines near the porch. But the house in front of him was nothing like that.
From the leaning chimneys all the way down to the crumbling foundation, Sam could see where every day of its 200-year life had taken its toll. Large square pillars strained to hold up the swayed porch roof and the steps to the porch had rotted completely away. Shiny green ivy crept up the house, branching off over and over again. It edged into and over some of the windows too, as if to keep curious onlookers from looking in. Or maybe it was to keep what was inside from looking out. Sam shivered, remembering what he’d seen and took a few steps back.
A Ghostly Twist Page 2
