by Matt Musson
I've located all kinds of wondrous things growing up. But, gold and jewels and money are small potatoes compared to the treasure I walked beside that evening on Cape Lookout.
*************
The moon was a rising pumpkin when we made our way back to camp that evening. And, as we walked up to the rear door of the main building, we were surrounded by swarms of shimmering bubbles floating across the moonlit landscape.
Donnie and Pam were perched on the third floor widow's walk with giant bubble wands and a half gallon jug of wash. Donnie spent his Beaufort money on bubble makers. And, he bought wands for everyone – even Ms. Mynah.
It was a magical end to a magical day. For an hour we created clouds of moon reflecting bubbles and laughed like kindergartners.
But, it had been a long day. Eventually we were ready for a shower and some sack time.
As I handed my plastic wand back to Donnie I asked what inspired his moonlight bubble fiesta. He looked me in the eye and gave some advice that I'll never forget.
“Jeep. Sometimes people surround themselves with a hard shell – as hard as those whelks we found off the Cape that day. And, often the best way to break through a woman’s shell is to reach out to the girl inside her.”
Sometime later, I stepped outside to wash the lingering sand off my feet in the outside shower. And, I spied Donnie and Pam heading out on a moonlight beach walk of their own. I remembered the hard shell Pam hid behind on our first days at the Cape, and I considered the easy smiles she had for us tonight.
I guess Donnie was right.
*************
Chapter 17 – Cape Lookout D-Day
We got up early the next morning knowing that the day had finally come. It was The Day of Days. But, in case there was a question in anybody’s mind, Bogdon made it official. He hopped out of bed, and even before he changed out of his pajamas he addressed the room.
“Well, guys. It's finally here. Today is the day. Before we go to bed tonight, we'll get our second chance to free Levi.”
“It's D-Day!” he said boldly, taking an historic pose.
Of course Freddie was not about to let the moment go bye without comment. “Why is it D-Day?”
“What?” said Bogdon.
“Why is it D-Day?” Freddie asked. “I mean, why isn’t it A-Day or B-Day or even C-Day? It seems A-Day would be the first and most important day. After all, A comes before D.”
Bogdon was a little annoyed. He’d been trying to make a point and maybe a moment for posterity. And, now Freddie had stepped all over it. Bog would have been within his rights to fire back a snotty reply. But, it was not necessary. Shad stepped in for him.
“Well, Boy Blunder,” Shad replied. “It’s not A-Day, because it’s never been A-Day. And, it’s always been D-Day!”
“Can’t it be A-Day just this once?” asked Freddie.
“No!” hollered Shad. “It can’t be A-Day just this once! It has to be D-day. And let me tell you why it has to be D-day. Because Tom Hanks didn’t storm Omaha Beach on A-Day!”
“Besides,” Toby added a little more thoughtfully. “D-Day actually stands for something. It’s short for ‘Designated Day’.”
“Yeah?” said Freddie. “Well maybe A-Day stands for something too.”
“Like what?” ask Shad.
“Like – ‘Ats about time’ Day,” Freddie chortled.
We all groaned.
“Boy, it’s a good thing Rottweiler’s not here,” said Toby.
“Why’s that?” asked Freddie.
“Cause he’d want to line the floor of his cage with that last joke!” Toby replied.
“Gee Freddie,” Charlie commented. “Your jokes get worse day after day. But, that one is so bad it must be from tomorrow!”
Shad reached over and frogged Freddie in the arm.
“Hey!” said the little guy. “What’s the big idea?”
“That’s for making me endure such a bad joke on an empty stomach.”
Freddie rubbed his sore arm and he made one final comment.
“It’s not easy being comic relief for a company full of critics.”
Then, we all got dressed, brushed our teeth and went out to the kitchen - for our D-day breakfast.
*************
With the dawn of a new day, our cell phone reception returned. Shad and Freddie took the opportunity to contact On*Star for an update on our whale's position.
It appeared that Levi had slowed down some during the night. It was looking more and more like he would not reach the Cape until after dark. So, after we finished breakfast, Charlie ordered us to inspect our night vision equipment.
It's a good thing he did, too. We had several batteries that needed changing.
Meanwhile, Bogdon and Toby wired our infra red spotlight into the boat's electrical system. If we were going to be intercepting the creature at night, the big handheld unit would come in handy.
By about 9:30 in the morning, we were all set. Everything had been checked and double checked. And, now the real waiting began.
We could have sat around and got all tense and stuff. But, instead we decided we might as well get in some more fishing while we had the chance and our own boat. So, we set up our poles with wire leaders in front of Clarkspoons and Gotcha Plugs, filled the cooler with ice and soda and slathered on the SPF 45. Ten minutes later we were slow trolling the Cape.
In next to no time, ‘Fish on!' rang out right and left. There was a large school of Spanish Mackerel congregating around the lee side of the old granite jetty. Each trail through that area brought multiple hook ups. And, those three pound toothy torpedoes hit hard and fast. Reels were screaming and fish were jumping.
Toby and Freddie also hooked up with some hefty Hatteras Blues. Toby lost his at the boat, but Freddie netted a nine pounder that ate half the paint off his Plug.
We were about ready to head in for lunch when Thor's reel suddenly started screaming! The fish smoked off 150 yards of line before Thor could turn him. Following an epic 40 minute struggle Norse boy boated a 26 lb Cobia, a saltwater resident that looks like a cross between a catfish and a shark.
By then we'd emptied our cooler of Root Beer and refilled it with fish. So, we decided to head to the house and returned to the Camp like conquering heroes! And, after proudly displaying our catch, we spent 30 minutes cleaning, scaling and filleting.
While we were getting fishy, Ms. Mynah whipped up a batch of submarine sandwiches on home baked Italian rolls. We also got chilled summertime side dishes like pasta salad and cold melon slices. It was a cool and refreshing lunch for a hot morning at the Cape. And, after pigging out on the main courses we devoured a large pan of fudge covered brownies.
Following our morning out and that wonderfully large lunch, we decided on a little siesta. So, we climbed up the main building stairs and made our way up to the third story observation deck. It was a good place to relax and watch the world float by.
By now the afternoon sun was beating down on the Island. However, an extended overhang shadowed our position. Plus, that high up we got a constant breeze blowing in off the water. So, we settled ourselves into the rust proof plastic armchairs and got comfortable. No one spoke much as we nestled into our seats. We were too tired. It had been a busy morning and some of us had not slept much the night before. We sat quietly and let our lunch digest, listening to the wind, the crying or the gulls and the restful crashing of the distant surf.
Soon, eyelids were drooping a little and a couple of the guys nodded off for an after lunch shuteye. But, that was okay. It had been a busy morning. And, it was liable to be a late night on the dark water.
There was one Ranger though, who could not seem to relax in our perch above the world. He kept squirming and constantly rearranging. He could not seem to find a comfortable position. Each time he appeared to be settled, he would suddenly sigh deeply and begin wiggling all over again.
; Someone had a heavy heart.
About ten minutes in to this anxiety spell, Toby took the initiative. “What’s the problem, Bog?” he asked softly.
“Nothing really,” Bogdon replied. “I just can’t get comfortable.”
“You sure that’s all there is to it?” asked Toby. “Is there something bothering you?”
“I don’t know,” Bogdon said. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” Toby pushed. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, it’s just that I’m worried. What if we fail? Tonight’s our last shot. And, what if after all this effort tracking down the whale and all the money and the work – what if we can’t save him?”
He continued.
“This was all my idea. And I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking that if we don’t save the whale, it’s going to be all my fault we wasted an entire Summer.”
“Come on, Bog,” said Toby. “You didn’t twist anybody’s arm to get them here. We voted on this project. And as I recall the vote was unanimous. We all wanted to take this shot. It’s not your fault if it doesn’t work out.”
“Maybe so,” said Bogdon sounding unconvinced. “But, if we don’t free the whale, I know I’ll blame myself.”
“Now, that’s just crazy talk,” Toby said emphatically. “We succeed or fail as a team. If we are successful, would you take all the credit? No one person gets all the blame – or all the glory.”
Charlie spoke up.
“And, if we don’t completely free the whale that does not mean that this was all a big waste of time. We may have been here for some other purpose. Maybe to free that sea turtle or save the banker pony. Or, maybe for some reason we haven’t learned yet.”
Charlie chuckled. “Heck for all we know, there might be another bunch of guys heading for the beach right now - in Virginia, or Connecticut or Maine. And maybe they’ll finish freeing Levi if we can’t”
The conversation paused as we watched a drifting cloud shading the ocean in front of us. The shadows dyed the water emerald green. Outside the clouded circle, sunbeams mixed the edges into brilliant aquamarines that flowed into deeper water and dark Atlantic blues.
Finally, Bogdon spoke again.
“I guess you guys are right. It’s just sometimes I feel like I am carrying everything on my shoulders. Not just the whale, but Mom and Dad and School and the Hobby Shop. Everything.”
Bogdon explained, “I think - if I am just good enough - it will all work out okay. And, everyone will be happy.”
“Bogdon,” Toby said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. ”Listen closely. You will never make everybody happy. Ever! Life just doesn't work that way. Even so, don't be discouraged. Remember what Robin Kestrel said the day the Thunderbird flew for the last time?”
Toby leaned in. “Robin said. ‘God always has a plan.' And, she was right back then. And, she's right, today. Because, ultimately it is all in God's hands. And, He makes the decisions. Not you and me.”
Bogdon protested. “But, bad things happen and life's not fair. So how can I trust God to keep his part of the bargain?”
“You are right," Toby agreed. "This world's not fair. But, the next one will be. So, when bad things happen you have to have little faith that there's a better day coming.”
I decided to throw in my two cents.
“You have to quit thinking you are in charge of the whole world,” I said. ”You are only responsible for the small piece you can actually do something about. So, you do your job. And, let God do His. Grandpa Gus told me something once, and I really believe it. He said: Life's not fair, but God is Good.”
I guess Bogdon was concentrating on what we said, because he quit protesting. And, he finally quit wiggling.
So, we sat there in silence looking out on the world. Below us the planet kept spinning like it knew what it was doing. In the distance, waves rolled obediently into shore. Overhead the sun and the clouds took their rightful places against a Carolina blue sky.
And, after several quiet minutes, Bogdon Peabody finally drifted off to sleep.
The afternoon trickled by and one by one, we slipped down from our restful perch. Each Ranger went off to make individual preparations and steel himself for the night's assault.
We tried to appear calm and pretend like the growing tension did not affect us. But, inside, the pressure was building. It was not just Bogdon. All of us were worried we might let down Levi – and our fellow Rangers – at some crucial moment.
I found myself wondering what it would be like if he ‘ Moby Dick'ed’ us again tonight. Our fiberglass boat was larger and heavier than the Zodiac, but we were still not going to win any collisions with the great beast. Plus, rubber gives and bounces back. Fiberglass smashes and caves in. And this time we did not have a chase boat covering our tail.
For no particular reason, I walked down the sandy pathway toward the Ocean. Along the way, I bent over to examine a cluster of wild grapes, and I tried to imagine a midnight smash up with a rampaging whale.
I was deep in thought and did not realize that Shad McReynolds had come up behind me. I did not notice him, until he spoke.
“Jeep? Do you have a second? I want to ask you something.”
I stopped in the middle of reaching down for a bunch of tiny green orbs on spindly stems. They reminded me of the yellow Sargasso seaweed that washes up on the island.
“Sure. What’s on your mind?” I asked.
“Let’s walk down to the beach,” he said. “I have a story I want you to hear. It’s about Ms. Mynah.”
For the next twenty minutes, Shad and I walked the beach just above the waterline. I had my head down, keeping an eye out for any shark's teeth or starfish that might have washed up. But, mostly I listened as Shad related a story that I had not even suspected. And, it surprised me that after almost a week, I did not even know the gentle woman's first name.
From her limited comments, I knew Ms. Mynah grew up in the Carolina low country and lived most of her life near the Cape. During her late nights of nursing, she shared details with Shad that she had not revealed to the rest of us. Like for example, her first name was Nonnie.
As a young woman, Nonnie Eubanks fell in love and married a local fisherman named Sam Mynah. Sam skippered a fishing boat out of a nearby village called Atlantic. Nonnie worked as a deck hand or drove the couple's ancient pickup into Beaufort to pedal fresh fish to tourists and wealthy boat owners.
After years of struggling on the beautiful but begrudging ocean, the young couple saved up a down payment for their very own fishing boat. Coincidentally, the same day they made an offer on a well used but seaworthy vessel, Nonnie discovered she was with child.
Within a year, Sam was busy fishing from the new boat, the Glory Bee. And, Nonnie was even busier raising the couple's infant son, Bobby.
Time passed. Some years were hard and lean and others saw plentiful catches and money in the bank. But, it was generally a happy time. Bobby grew tall and strong and took to the fisherman's life. As soon as he could walk, he was out on the Glory Bee, watching, learning and helping. By the time he was school age, Bobby's heart was set. He was a good student, but his teachers knew he would rather be on the water.
But, the sea giveth and the sea taketh away.
One late October weekend when Bobbie was in the seventh grade, he joined his Father on a floundering trip just ahead of rough weather. There should have been plenty of time to beat the storm. But, mechanical difficulties left them adrift in a turning ocean. Although, a radio message did report the engines were repaired and the vessel would be home for dinner.
A Coast Guard helicopter passed over the boat before the storm hit. The Guardsmen observed the boat under way, about three miles down the ocean side of Shackleford banks. They buzzed the craft a second time and got reassuring waves from the crew.
Then the Glory Bee sailed off and disappeared without a trace.
No radio signals. No wreckage. And, no bodies were ever found.
It was as if they sailed off the edge of the ocean.
The Coast Guard initiated a search of the area. They eventually covered the entire Carolina coastline and went up into Virginia. After two weeks the authorities gave up, but Nonnie Mynah kept looking. For years she combed the ocean, the sound and the beaches. But, she never found even hint of the boat or her family.
I had a large lump in my throat by the time Shad finished his story. But, I struggled to speak anyway.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. Although I already knew the answer.
“Well, you know,” said Shad. “I mean, you are the guy who finds things.”
Shad could not bring himself to ask me straight out. But I answered him firmly.
“But, you know I don’t do bodies. Not anymore.”
“I know,” Shad said. “But, she is a nice lady and she deserves some kind of closure.”
I stopped beachcombing and looked up into my friends eyes. He had no idea what he was asking me to do. So, I did not really blame him.
“Of course she does,” I agreed. “All the Moms deserve closure. But, remember what happened last time?”
He was quiet for a minute. Neither one of us wanted to reopen that can of worms.
“Look, I know it’s tough,” he said. “But we are here and she needs help. And, no one is going to blame you if you fail.”
He paused.
“And this time, no one will blame you… if you succeed.”
I looked at the pain in Shad’s face and I wondered what he saw in mine. It had taken a lot for him to ask me this. And, I knew he sincerely cared for this sweet old lady. Otherwise, he would have let it drop.
“Please?” he begged. “Could you make an exception? Just this once?”
I really wanted to say no. And, maybe even get mad at him for bringing up the subject. After all, we had been down this track before and it ended in a real bad train wreck. Just considering it, brought back flashes of ugly stuff.
I wanted to say no. But what finally came out was: “I’ll think about it.”
I walked away. I needed to be alone.
Was I up for this? Could I handle it again?
