SandPeople: An Across Time Mystery

by Cheryl Kerr

  "Did you ever get married?"

  "No, I never did," Aunt Meg took another piece of garlic bread from the basket. "I kind of wish I had."

  "You and mom aren't in touch a lot," Lea said.

  "No, we've both gotten too busy." She looked at Lea. "Your parents both love you a lot."

  "I know," Lea sighed.

  "Do you?" her aunt smiled. "Good. How about a sunset walk? Maybe that will get us in a less lonely mood."

  The sun was setting when they walked down to the beach.

  The sand figures were lined up by a piece of driftwood, all in a row, bent slightly forward in the middle as if they were moving.

  Aunt Meg looked at them. "They do look like people," she marveled. "Primitive people, but people, yes."

  The tide lapped at their feet and, a minute later, the little figures melted slowly into the beach.

  "One of them even looked a little like it was wearing a skirt," Aunt Meg said.

  "That's what I think," Lea said behind her.

  "What else do you think?" Aunt Meg sat back and locked her arms around her knees.

  "I think a child is making them, but a special one."

  "Meaning?"

  "I think the girl I told you about is making them," Lea said. "When did they come? When we were feeling sad. That is when they come. And when I see them is when I've seen the girl."

  "They are going somewhere else," Aunt Meg said. "They're all in a line."

  "I wish I had a camera," Lea said.

  Her aunt smiled. "It wasn't you I didn't believe; it was that ghosts might exist."

  They stared at the spot on the beach where the little line of sand figures had been, all walking away from the sea, north.

  "Where to, though, that is the question."

  Chapter 8

  Lea biked to the library early the next morning. Mrs. Simon was just opening up as she put her bike against the wall.

  "Good morning, Lea," Mrs. Simon said.

  "Hi," Lea said breathlessly. "May I read some more of it? The diary, I mean, I thought that maybe somewhere in the book are some other clues."

  "Yes. Things of the past are best appreciated when they are read or observed." She led Lea to a table, got the diary from the box, and opened it. "When you are finished call me and I'll put it away."

  Lea sat down and ran a fingertip over the cloth that bound the book. It opened easily and lay flat. The spine was bent in a few places. She ran a gentle finger along the yellowed edge of one page and then paged past the entry she had already read over and began on a new one.

  Wilhelmshaven,

  May 18, 1847...

  We are on our way, at last. I am writing this in English so as to practice on my way to our new home. Papa has said we will only speak English once we are there. The name of the ship is the Colombine, which is a blue flower. But I have already told you that. And paper is scarce so I must try not to write again what I have already set down.

  How blue the sky is today. Our town was walled and all you could ever see were little slices of the sky from inside the houses and small gardens. I envied the boys, my brother Gustav, at least he got to work outside the walls.

  It is funny to think of not seeing home again. My family lived in the cottage beneath the shadow of the city walls for over one hundred years. Mama wept on leaving. Papa says the unknown is a fearful place, but that the army that wanted Gustav was even worse. That is why Mama cried. Papa says I must be strong and brave when we reach Texas. I will try. Today I will enjoy the wind in my hair. My skirt is the same shade of blue as the sea today. I am glad. Perhaps it is an omen.

  The Colombine

  May 23, 1847...

  There is only water as far as I can see. It is blue everywhere. I love blue but so much of it. The sky and the water seem to be different shades of the same color. Far off they grow hazy and I cannot tell where one ends and the other begins.

  June 1, 1847...

  Today there is more blue water. There is little wind. We ate our spare breakfast and we are now on deck. The captain does not say much but I know that he is worried. Nicholas says so.

  July 10, 1847...

  The captain says we have come into the Gulf of Mexico. Yesterday one of the sailors talked to me for a long while about Texas. He says that wild hogs and cattle run on the beaches here and that freshwater rivers run into the sea. But there are Indians hiding behind the sand dunes along the beach. When they see a ship, they build a big fire and watch and wait.

  July 21, 1847...

  I do not know where we are. We have sailed along the coast for three days now. I am keeping track by the number of sunrises that I can see through the porthole. I think we are sailing north. Last night I thought I could see a glow on the far edge of the horizon. But we changed direction and whatever it was faded away. I did not know that the nights could be so dark. But they are, very dark.

  July 27, 1847...

  I am thankful for Nicholas' company on this voyage. Each day we have spoken a little. I like him for he seems kind by nature and sensitive as well.

  July 30, 1847...

  It has been three days since my last recording. We were put into a lifeboat and rowed through the dark. I fell asleep. When I woke I thought that I was dreaming. We traveled a creek hung with trees and moss so thick that it was dark on the water. Then we crossed a large bit of water. It was eerie. Among the trees were ships, at least a score of them. They looked as to be ghosts. They had turned gray, the same old gray as the trees along the water. For here the trees grow right down to the water's edge. The masts on the ships do not look any different from the trunks of the trees.

  Morning, with the sun coming out of the sea...

  I have lost count of the days. I have been sick. I do not remember much except feeling like I should die and strange dreams of empty ships lying on their sides under great sweeping droops of dead trees and moss. And a lady. She wore a dress that made sounds when she moved, and she put a cool cloth on my head. She lived in a house on a bluff over the ocean. To get there we traveled the strangest place I have been yet. A great silent lake with dead ships pushed to the very edges of the water so that their masts looked to be just one more tree in the forest. From the ocean, you could not tell the ships were there.

  I have counted five sunrises. I write this in small bits. I don't think that they know I have a journal. They probably wouldn't like it. I do wish Julia was here.

  After the last page, Lea raised her head and looked at her watch. Four-thirty already? she thought. She felt as if she had been reading a long, long time. Yawning, she went up the stairs.

  "Did you find anything more?" Mrs. Simon asked Lea when she leaned wearily against the checkout desk. Teri had come in while she was reading and looked up, waiting for Lea's answer.

  "No, nothing that seemed to give me an idea of who she was," Lea said. She rubbed her eyes. The hot sun poured down on the street outside. A whole afternoon in the dim, cool basement had left her feeling that it was nighttime.

  "I think you need to check with the museum in Galveston," Mrs. Simon said sympathetically. "They keep records of ships. Lots of people came through South Texas. Galveston was once one of the busiest ports. Thousands of people landed there and passed through on their way to other settlements like Austin or San Antonio.

  “There also was a town called Indian Point at first, Indianola later, but it’s not there any longer. Hurricanes flooded it twice.”

  “Like the mission,” Lea said.

  "What about this area?"

  "Well, it might have been settled by her family. Or she may have been the victim of a shipwreck. The pirates preyed heavily on the ships in this area."

  Mrs. Simon said, "What you really need are the passenger lists."

  "Why?" Both girls asked at once.

  "If you don't know where she went, maybe you can find her by checking who was alive and here at the time," she explained patiently.

  "We need to find out who would have been about
our age in 1848. Our records are spotty. Two big hurricanes came along since those early years."

  "I better get home," Lea said.

  Mrs. Simon smiled at her. "Do you know that is the first time that I've heard you say home?"

  "I guess it is," Lea said.

  She biked home thinking that she was eager to get there.

  After dinner, she offered to wash the dishes. While she was scrubbing, Aunt Meg leaned against the counter and watched her. "Now, what's up?" she asked Lea.

  "I would like to go to Galveston," Lea said. She explained about the hurricane and the missing records and the ship's list from the Colombine.

  Aunt Meg studied her. "Okay, " she said. "We'll go."

  Lea stood looking at her. "Okay," she said.

  On a map, they found that Galveston lay two hundred miles northeast of Santa Theresa.

  "It's too far to drive, but we can fly," Aunt Meg said.

  Chapter 9

  Lea pressed her nose against the window as the plane taxied forward and then rolled down the runway faster and faster. Then, with a quick lurch, they were up, circling higher and higher. Beside her, Teri leaned over to watch a ship float out of sight as they banked.

  She looked down. The Gulf Plain lay spread out below her, doll-sized. The dusty gray-green of beach grass and live oaks gave way to brilliant-green fields wherever farms lay. Plowed fields quilted a pattern in the sandy earth between the crisscross of fences through the fields. A single road snaked along the edge of the water, joined at one spot by another road. Then the plane banked east. Lea sat back in her seat though Teri was still looking out the window.

  Aunt Meg had been really cool about this trip, she thought, making the time for it.

  "Galveston is an island city. The oldest city in Texas," Aunt Meg said from across the aisle. After landing at Houston airport they rented a car and drove to Galveston Island. Lea dozed as they cut through city traffic.

  She woke up as they started across the causeway. Mile after mile slipped beneath the car as they drove. The sea wind blew hard, fluttering the flags on hotels and riffling the bay into thousands of points of dancing whitecaps. Street after street of tall old homes started near the waterfront. Trolley tracks cut through the blocks and tall palm trees stood in front yards.

  They found Ocean Drive and drove along looking for the museum. Aunt Meg wanted to stay in a hotel nearby if they could find one.

  "And one with a pool?" Lea asked hopefully.

  Thirty minutes later they had checked in and left their bags in a cool, dim room with a sea view.

  The Seaport Museum was in an old building on the road called the Strand. The heavy walls and high ceilings made the inside dark and cool, the afternoon heat kept outside by the heavy doors. They checked in at the information desk. Small rooms were on the left and right of this main hall, at the end was a bright room with lots of tables and a sign that said Reading Room. The silence was broken by voices so low the words were lost, just a hum. The quiet belongs here, thought Lea.

  The museum guide was welcoming. "I understand you are interested in a certain ship," she said, looking at her notes.

  Lea nodded. Her chest felt tight and she breathed deep. This was her story they were there to research. What if they found nothing?

  She pushed the thought away as the guide picked up a notebook and pen and came out from behind the desk.

  "Are you ready?" She led them upstairs. The first-floor hubbub died away as the climbed the stairs. A computer hummed gently on a table in a room with tables and dividers set along the walls.

  "We'll start the computer search today," the guide sat down at a screen.

  "What do you mean, today?" Teri asked.

  "It may be some time before we get a response," the guide said kindly.

  "Most research takes a good twenty-four hours just to get started. Perhaps you'll want to see some of Galveston while you are waiting? Why don't you check back with us tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow?" Both of the girls were disappointed at the wait. Aunt Meg shook her head slightly and they followed her out into the warm afternoon. "I know this is important to you. But we have to give them time to help us," she said. "Now, what shall we do with the afternoon?"

  The hotel was on the long curving road that fronted the bay. The wide sidewalk along the seawall stretched away in a long curve following the bay.

  "Looks like a good place to rollerblade," Aunt Meg said.

  Lea looked at her in surprise.

  Lea put on the skates she had rented at one of the seawall vendors in their tiny tents. She stood up and tried them. They felt good and firm, the bindings laced good and tight. She started out with long, sure strokes, stroking out the left and then the right. She rolled along, pushing strong and steady, the wind blowing her hair and making her eyes water. The seawall flowed by underneath her feet. She felt her muscles work.

  Rollerblading in Harper's Ridge hadn't been near this much fun. The only wide sidewalk was on Main Street, and it was full of people walking around.

  Aunt Meg smiled. "See, we do have things in Texas that you didn't have at home," she said.

  Like ghosts, thought Lea. When she turned around, the hotel sign was a small blue square on the horizon. She hadn't realized that she had gone so far. She was exhausted when she got back to the hotel.

  That evening they visited a lighthouse, listening to birds cry in the dusk. Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the spiral steel stairs as they wound their way up into the tower.

  "It's not as tall as I thought it would be," Lea said as she topped the last step.

  Aunt Meg smiled. "It's very flat here, a light would be visible from a long way off."

  "Yeah, I guess it kind of tells you where not to go, but it’s still not much to guide you if you don’t know where you are." Lea stepped out and the sea breeze blew her hair across her face.

  Aunt Meg moved up and grasped the iron railing.

  Back at the hotel, a light flashed on the phone between the beds. Aunt Meg picked it up and pressed some buttons. She listened for a moment, said thank you, and then turned to the girls.

  "Well," she said casually. "They have some information for you."

  "Let's go!" Lea bounced up off of the bed. The drive back to the museum was long. Lea could see the building across part of the bay, they seemed to get no nearer for a very long time. But, finally, Aunt Meg pulled into the parking lot and the three of them went inside.

  The museum guide had them sign in and gave them badges that would let them use the computer for research. The rooms were set up leading into one another with different themes for each one.

  "We have a little bit of everything here. I felt bad about the girls being so disappointed, so I've arranged to take them on a tour of the whole museum before we go upstairs," the guide said and gave them a big smile.

  Lea managed a weak smile back. She felt like she might never find out the name of the girl in the long blue dress. But she couldn't refuse the tour; the woman was trying to be nice. "Thank you," she said.

  The first room was called Creatures of the Deep. A long case held skeletons, a giant sea turtle shell, and the jaws of the biggest shark ever caught.

  The next room was full of cases and shelves of things recovered from shipwrecks. The keel of a ship found on a Galveston beach lay in the first one. The wood was rounded and smoothed to a slick finish from years of salt and sand rubbing against it. Its color was a soft, faded gray.

  "Now, when you called, you said you were interested in a specific ship," the guide said. She smiled at the girls. " I think you are going to be pleased. The Colombine was a barkentine, a kind of ship used a lot for carrying people across the ocean. "We have a model of one here, I think you will enjoy seeing it."

  "Yes please, can we?" Lea and Teri asked together.

  "Certainly, let's go this way." She led them toward a display wall that held a collection of fishing gear mounted and displayed.

  Together they rounded the corner.
/>
  "Here we are," the guide said.

  "Oh, wow," Lea said and stopped. Teri bumped into her from behind. Before her, the floor opened up into a huge room. The far side was all glass and looked out on the bay. Sunshine poured through the windows and lit what lay in the middle of the floor. A huge wooden ship, life-size, stood in front of her. A wooden sign read The Spirit, model of a barkentine used in the mid-1800s.

  "No masts, of course, they're too tall. We'll go outside for that. But this is built to the actual dimensions of a ship's plans we got from a boat chandlery in Germany. The same one that built the Colombine."

  "I thought you meant a tabletop model," Lea said, standing absolutely still.

  "Let's go, I want to go onboard." Teri brushed past her and up the wooden ramp, her footsteps thumping hollowly on the boarding ramp.

  Lea followed her more slowly. She had wanted to find out about this so much, it was almost spooky to be here now. She looked around the deck area, surprisingly small. Coils of line and sails were stacked in many places.

  "Usually forty to fifty passengers traveled on one of these ships. The crew usually numbered around twenty. Let's go below." She led them to a hatchway. A ladder went down from the deck into a shadowed hole. The girls went down one at a time, hanging onto the rope railings that jerked and moved under their hands. "Imagine trying to get down this thing if you were really sailing," the guide said. "Most of these people were tradespeople and farmers who were moving. They did not have much if any, experience at sea."

  In the middle of the floor, a giant tree stump was hollowed out to hold the rudder whose handle was as big around as Lea.

  "Wow, not much room," Lea said and reached up to touch the low roof overhead. Faint light showed through the square hatch where they had come down. "Imagine living in here for the four weeks it took to cross the ocean."

  "Of course, that was an average; it could be longer if they couldn't catch the wind." Lea reached up and touched the ceiling, just above her head. The heavy wood was dark.