Teetoncey

by Theodore Taylor

  Ben snorted. "If she'd gotten into that sink near Salvo, that's all that would have been left of her. That hat floatin' on top."

  It happened again Sunday.

  Rachel went to Mrs. Burrus's to read Bible, and Ben stayed around the house to keep Tee company but finally in late morning decided to put Me and the John O'Neal back, in the water. He wanted to check the rigging, too. Hardie Miller had been none too easy-handed when he'd righted the boat.

  Ben saw that Tee was safely on the couch, still in her nightgown, turning the pages of the Sears catalog slowly. That was enough to occupy her for an hour, at least. He went down to the dock and began work on the boat.

  About noon, Rachel returned and saw the nightgown on the floor in Ben's room. She hurried outside.

  "Tee down here anywhere?" she asked.

  Ben straightened up with a start. "She's in the house."

  "No, Ben. Where's the dog?"

  "He went off early." Every so often, Boo would prowl away on an expedition, sometimes going as far as Hatteras village.

  "Well, she's gone again," Rachel said, with a slight annoyance in her voice. "I'll change my shoes..."

  My fault this time, Ben thought, and went to find Fid. But that sand sink hovered in his mind. Carrying the bridle and bit, he hurried along the shore until he located the pony. The tackie wasn't too far away, engaged in his usual gnawing. Ben quickly slipped the bridle on, mounted him, and went at a gallop for the sink, leaning over along the way in hopes of seeing her tracks.

  He crashed through the thicket and pulled Fid up short, hopping off. No footprints were visible. He mounted again.

  Which way now? That girl was getting to be too much for them, he thought.

  He cut across the island and headed for Heron station, thinking she might have walked the trail; maybe someone spotted her.

  Luther Gaskins was out behind the station, sunning himself after noon chow and reading a month-old copy of the Norfolk Pilot.

  "You see Teetoncey?" Ben shouted.

  "Nope. Haven't seen her since we got her outta the surf."

  "She's lost, Luther. She did it Friday, too. She's startin' to roam worse 'n' heifer."

  Gaskins got up. "You check the sink near Salvo?"

  "She's not there."

  "I'll tell Cap'n Midgett. How long's she been gone?"

  "No more'n an hour."

  Gaskins went into the station, and Ben slapped Fid's behind, rode down over the sand banks, and headed south along the beach, thinking she might have gone back to the Hettie Carmichael

  He looked far ahead, on past the Hettie, but there wasn't a soul on the beach. Seldom was, on winter Sundays. Boo Dog had certainly picked a terrible time to go hunting, he thought, pounding along on Fid. If worse came to worst, he'd run Boo down and have him track her.

  He drew up at the Carmichael and looked around the wreck but she wasn't there. He checked the sand around the stem. The tide was ebbing out and there weren't any shoe marks.

  Ben didn't know where to go next. He thought of riding on down to Kinnakeet station, but that was a good four miles, and she couldn't have very well covered that much distance.

  Jabez Tillett loped up on one of the big mules. "You spot 'er, Ben?"

  "Not a hair."

  "Well, you go on inland. I'll ride this way. Cap'n Midgett called Pea Island an' New Inlet. We'll find her."

  Ben rode on up over the bank. Even though he knew the barrier islands were the safest places in the world if there wasn't a gale, he started to worry the way he'd worried Friday. And this time, he'd been responsible.

  He rode south for a quarter mile, saw his mother on the trail, and pulled up.

  "Any sign of her?" Rachel asked dejectedly.

  Ben shook his head. "Filene has turned out search crews from Pea and New Inlet, too. They're on the beach now."

  Rachel said, "Ben, think hard. Where could she have gone? I even looked in the closets."

  "She's jus' wanderin', Mama."

  "Think of all the places you've taken her."

  "She couldn't get as far as Hattrus now."

  "Closer places."

  "I checked the Hettie Carmichael."

  Then Ben thought about the snow geese. "Mebbe she's up inland on Pea Island."

  "Go, Ben," Rachel said.

  Ben cracked Fid's ribs with his feet and headed north.

  In twenty minutes, he was on the flats and saw a small figure ahead, barely a speck He muttered, "Damn me, there she is."

  He rode on up, and there she was, watching the geese. They squawked and scattered as he got closer and Teetoncey finally turned to look at him.

  He felt that same mixture of anger and relief that he'd felt on Friday, but there wasn't any use to yell at her. Ben said, "Girl, we're gonna put a rope on you," and slid off the pony.

  He stood over her. "You know what you've caused? Whole Lifesavin' Service is out lookin' for you. Mama is walkin' the trail..."

  Tee just stared up.

  Ben shook his head. He reached down and pulled her up, then said tiredly, "Throw a leg over that pony."

  She stayed motionless.

  He repeated it.

  Finally, he picked her up and struggled her aboard Fid. He waited for her to take a hold on him. She just sat there. He turned slightly. "Tee, put your arms around my belly." That didn't work, either. So he reached back and took her hands, clasping them around his middle.

  "Let's go, Fid," he muttered and slapped a flank.

  They trotted toward Heron Head station.

  Filene was in the yard. He said, unexcitedly, "You found 'er, eh?"

  "She was watchin' the geese."

  "That's a good thing to do on Sunday," Filene said calmly, giving her a long look. "She's pert today, ain't she? Got some color in her cheeks."

  Then he casually walked inside to phone the other stations and call off the search. Ben thought it was impossible to know what would excite Filene and what wouldn't.

  He trotted Fid on home.

  Not much was said the rest of the day but that night, after supper, Rachel began to talk. Before she opened her mouth, Ben believed he knew what the subject would be.

  "I thought about it all afternoon. She may be gettin' too much for us, Ben. She ain't ours. An' if somethin' happened to her out here, I'd never forgive myself. If she fell off the dock or got into that sink sand ... I think it would finish me..."

  Ben nodded. He could understand that, after what had happened to his papa and Guthrie.

  "I do see signs o' improvement, but they might be jus' wishful thinkin'. An' we may even be hurtin' her in some way. Mebbe a doctor could unlock her mind..."

  Rachel moistened her lips and continued, hating what she was thinking and what she had to say. "The other thing, Ben, is that ever single day, whether we know it or not, were gettin' more attached to her. Even if she's started to do pesky things..."

  That was also true, Ben thought.

  "So, much as I hate to do it, I'm goin to talk to Filene tomorrow, have him call Mr. Timmons an' the British man an' tell them to come an' get Teetoncey. It's best, Ben."

  He looked over at Tee. She was studying the red embers in the bottom stove port. Elizabeth Lansdowne, or whoever she was, would finally be headed somewhere soon.

  He hadn't thought it would end like this, nor had he thought it would matter much, one way or another, when she did have to go. But suddenly, it did. He couldn't bring himself to say that the girl should be sent away. And he figured his mother would be the last one to do it.

  He frowned. "Mebbe we should wait. Someone'll claim her."

  "It's been almost a month now. I know it takes a long time for letters to get to England an' back but we mighten know for three months. Worst o' the winter hasn't hit ... she could get sick. At least, in Norfolk, they could take proper care of her. Not that I'm not tryin'."

  Ben finally nodded. Yes, it was probably best.

  He got up, tugged on his coat, and went outside. The Banks were bathe
d in moonlight, and he began crossing toward the beach, trying to think how his father might handle this. Like as not, he'd take it in stride, consider her a speechless critter, and go about doing what had to be done.

  By the time Ben got back from the beach walk he'd made up his mind to brace himself and take it the way any surfman would. Had the castaway girl had some senses, it might be different.

  Midmorning of the next day, Ben hitched Fid to the cart and then watched his mother drive off toward Heron station. She was wearing a black shawl on her head to keep her ears from smarting.

  He went back into the house and said to Tee, "You'll be better off." Steel was the way to handle it.

  Since it was Monday, at Heron station they were drilling with the beach apparatus and Filene was busy but Rachel called him up from the sands. The wind was brisk, cold, and the flag was flapping; the wave tops were white out to sea.

  "Turned into a nice day, hasn't it, Filene?" Rachel greeted him.

  He squinted at her. "So will tomorrow."

  "I do think it's warmer this winter than last."

  Filene kept squinting at her. The only time she ever came near a surf station was to borrow the doctor book or have a keeper make a call on the phone. "Might be."

  "Well, we haven't had a good freeze yet."

  "Not yet." Filene scanned down toward the beach and the men, then turned his blocky face back to Rachel. "You didn't ride up here to talk about freezes."

  Rachel said, "Filene, I, uh, jus' wondered if you'd had any word from that British consul?"

  "Not a word."

  "I do deceive that it takes time, Filene, but I jus' wondered how long we might be havin' Teetoncey."

  "She startin' to give you trouble?"

  "Not a bit. She's good as gold. It's jus' that I didn't want Ben to get too attached to her."

  "I see. You want me to call Mr. Timmons? Have him call the consul?"

  Rachel swallowed and took a deep breath. "Not at all, Filene."

  Filene nodded.

  Pulling the shawl tighter around her head, Rachel said, "Well, I best go back home. Good day. I'll see you bye 'n' bye."

  "You do that, Rachel," said Filene, as she walked back to the cart. He shook his head as she slapped the reins on Fid's back and turned him south.

  In the living room, Rachel said to Ben, "I couldn't do it, Ben. I jus' couldn't turn my back on this girl."

  It was certainly hard to know how to figure anything, Ben thought. Elders could never make up their minds.

  19

  CRISIS PASSED, the O'Neal house settled down again and for the next week they kept a sharp eye on Teetoncey. But she didn't attempt to roam far. Once, she headed for the dock to watch the minnows and Ben quickly fell in behind her. He took her to the Burrus store twice and she sat quietly by the roaring stove, chin in her hands, as he worked.

  Nothing much had changed. She was still having those nightmares and still silent as a mountain stone. There were moments when Ben felt sorry for her and equal moments when he wanted to kick her in the flanks and make her talk.

  Then, for a day toward the end of the week, the sky was mackereled, gathering rolls of nimbus clouds by nightfall. Finally, the nor'easter set in during early morning hours, predictable by the barometer in the living room. The needle fell like a shot duck.

  By noon, there was a forty-knot wind howling over the Banks, driving cold rain ahead of it; peppering the windows. It gusted now and then, shaking the silvered house.

  As could be expected, soon as the weather hit, Rachel went into her usual gloom. Tee was even worse. She couldn't light anywhere for long, Ben noticed. She kept going to the windows; listening and looking.

  Working on a bufflehead decoy he'd roughed out of pine in October, he wondered again about Reuben. He was due up the coast about now from Trinidad, the Barbadoes, and wherever else he'd gone. For all Ben knew, he was off the Banks this very afternoon, reefed up and ploughing through; taking water over the decks.

  He glanced at Tee again. She was now sitting in the straight chair, drumskin tight, staring at the door. The storm plainly worried her, he could see. She'd probably never been in a house that danced because of a gale. Well, it did.

  He kept on carving.

  What always bothered him most about being indoors during a blow was the terrible quiet, aside from the clock going tick-tock endlessly; the moan of the wind under the doors and windows.

  He purposedly knocked the decoy off the edge of the table. It hit the floor with a bang.

  Tee let out a gasp and jumped up.

  Rachel looked at her a moment and then said, "I'll put some yeopon on."

  Tee sat back down.

  Ben noticed her hands were trembling now and his mother saw it, too. Whenever there'd be a big gust, she'd tense up like an edgy quail.

  Most of the long afternoon was torturous and Ben knew his mother was turning something over in her mind. She'd keep looking at Tee out of the corners of her eyes, talking occasionally to her about things that didn't matter; had nothing to do with the weather. She also kept looking at the clock.

  Ben was puzzled and could feel something in the air. His mother was back at her habit of chewing her lip; scratching alongside her jaw; weighing thoughts mentally. Then she read the Bible for a while.

  At about five, storm still hammering the Banks, Rachel rose up and went into the kitchen, calling for Ben to follow. She seemed calm and organized, as couthy as she'd ever been.

  Standing by the stove, she said quietly, "Ben, we're gonna try somethin'."

  "What?"

  "Try to unlodge whatever's in her mind. You see how she's acted all day?" His mother nodded toward the front room. "So skitterish. She's never been this way before. Only when the gale hit."

  "She's jus' scared of it," Ben replied.

  "Mebbe that's what it's all about, Ben," his mother said. "Mebbe what happened to her in that other gale put her mind in prison. It's worth a try."

  "What is?"

  "Takin her back to Heron Shoal. Let her see it all over again."

  Ben was shocked. This wasn't anything to do with penetrates.

  "I know," Rachel said, reading his face. "But I've thought it all out."

  "It'll jus' scare her worse, Mama." He swallowed. "It may even kill her."

  "Or cure her, Ben. Now, you get dressed, an' I'll bundle Tee up."

  Ben hesitated.

  Rachel said confidently, "Lord above, I'm no doctor, but we've taken care o' ourselves out here for two hundred years without one, an' most of the time we've been right. Jus' usin' common sense an' whatever herbs there is aroun us..."

  "But, Mama..."

  "I'll take the blame for whatever happens. If she's a vegetable, as Doc says, then it can't hurt her. If she's not, we'll jus' see. Now, take her to the beach."

  It did not make much "common sense" to Ben. All that was out there was breakers and cold rain; wind that would bend you double. But he went into the bedroom to get his oilskin.

  He listened as his mother helped Tee get dressed. She was saying, gently but firmly, "You should see for yourself what's down there, Tee. Then mebbe you won't be frightened anymore. You'll get cold an' wet, but we can dry you off."

  Ben went out to the living room.

  Tee's eyes were wide. On her face was the same near panic of that second night when she'd tried to talk but found that she couldn't. Ben watched as his mother tightened the clasps on one of his old raincoats and then put her own sou'wester on Tee's head.

  Rachel said soothingly, "You jus' hang on to Ben. Now, go, the both of you."

  At the door, Rachel said to Ben, "You cut acrost straight to Heron Shoal. No other place. You jus' let her take a good long look an' then come back"

  As he was closing the door, she added, with determination, "Ben, if you got to drag her, get her there. Make her look"

  Outside, the rain was like icy birdshot, fired by the lancing wind.

  At the end of the lane, when they passed the last l
ive oak, Ben stopped to look at the girl. The small face was powder white. He took a firmer grip on her hand, not at all certain his mother was doing the right thing.

  She held back Even in the darkness, her eyes seemed as big as grommets.

  "You're goin'," Ben yelled, and pulled her along.

  They doubled over, bucking into the gale. After a few hundred yards, she fell but Ben got her back on her feet again. Already, they were soaked.

  Three-quarters of the way there, she fell again over a piece of driftwood and started to cry. By this time, Ben could feel the sand shuddering from the surf slam; hear the water roaring.

  He shouted, "It's not far now, Tee."

  Suddenly, her free hand flashed out desperately, glancing off his chin, as she struggled to get away.

  Surprised, Ben almost lost her but then took another hold on her wrist and pushed on, half dragging her. Once, he turned and saw that her eyelids were locked shut. He handled her with the only thing he thought he knew: strength.

  Finally, he got her over the last rise and a few feet down the slope, almost to the foamy white water. The roar of the surf was deafening. It was every bit as high as the night the Malta Empress grounded. The breakers hit like cannon volleys.

  Out there, somewhere, was Heron Shoal, wild and churning sending spray thirty to forty feet into the air.

  Ben held her by the surf's edge, water washing around their feet, and shouted into her ear, "Look, Teetoncey. Look, I tell you."

  She finally raised her head and opened her eyes, staring out toward the shoal. He saw terror come into them, and then her face knotted as a scream knifed out. He'd never heard anything like it.

  He looked toward Heron and almost saw what he thought she was seeing as she relived it—the bare-masted ship, heeling over, crashing on the bar; her mother slamming against the deck housing and tumbling forward in debris; the icy curl of sea that had lifted her off the deck; her father towing her; then the breakers. At last, peaceful darkness and no memory.

  The scream knifed out again and again, unlodging that wild night from her mind; releasing her from her own prison.

  She lunged suddenly, breaking away from Ben, plunging out into the wash. Then she screamed hysterically, "Mother ... Father..."