Chapter 11
Images of sunken ships and looming rocks drifted through Sam’s mind while voices murmured around him. He felt someone tilt his head back and felt his chest heaving while it greedily sucked up oxygen. Someone rolled him onto his side and he felt himself expel the saltwater from his stomach. All the while, gentle hands shook his shoulders and tapped his cheeks until he felt his mind and body rejoining. Sam struggled to open his eyes, squinting against the bright sun.
“Welcome back,” Eliza said.
Sam’s vision cleared and he saw Eliza smiling at him from above. She was kneeling on one side of him and Libby on the other. Rocky was standing near his feet, still clinging to a dripping life preserver. Mr. Henley’s shadow passed over him repeatedly as he paced the deck. Sam tried to push himself up, but his arms were as limp as raw bacon.
Eliza rested her hand on his shoulder. “Better wait a few more minutes before you sit up.”
“Since our fearless leader froze under pressure,” Libby said, pointing at Mr. Henley, “It’s a darn good thing our friend here knows how to rope cattle and that Eliza knows first aid. Or else you’d be just another drowning statistic. You know… like the kind you enjoy boring us with.”
Sam struggled to understand. “Drowning? First aid?”
“Yes. I work at the town pool back home so I’m trained in rescue breathing, CPR, and basic first aid,” Eliza stated.
Mr. Henley started sputtering as he paced. “What am I going
to do? What am I going to tell the Coast Guard? They’ll be here
any minute. This has never happened before. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, calm down, Mr. Henley,” Libby said. “As far as what happened here, Sam swallowed a little too much salt water and Rocky got to show off his rodeo skills. Besides that, nothing really happened.” She looked around at the rest of the group. “Right guys?”
Sam was still trying to understand what was going on, but when Eliza and Rocky nodded in agreement he did too.
“As a matter of fact, we’ve shown we can handle ourselves quite well,” Libby said crossing her arms. “Since Eliza clearly has the training to watch over Sam while you don’t, we won’t need your services this afternoon.”
“Works for me,” Eliza said, helping Sam sit up. “How about you Nerd Boy? Are you willing and able to follow instructions
from me?”
“Yes, I can do that,” Sam said hesitantly, wondering what he’d just agreed to.
“How about you, Rodeo Boy?” Libby asked.
Rocky nodded in agreement, his knuckles bone white from holding the life preserver tightly.
“Alright then. Motion carried,” Libby declared. “You’re on
your own Mr. Henley. And so are we.”
“Thank goodness,” Eliza said. “I’ve had enough of his boring history lectures.”
Mr. Henley opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He kept trying, looking a lot like a fish gasping for water.
The Coast Guard boat pulled up beside them. “Everything okay over there Mr. Henley? We got a call that someone fell overboard.”
Before Mr. Henley could say anything, Eliza spoke up. “Sam here just swallowed a little too much salt water when he was snorkeling. He didn’t need CPR as he was breathing on his own. We placed him in the recovery position to drain any salt water from his mouth and throat and he was coherent and able to communicate shortly after we got him back onto the boat.”
“It sounds like you know what you’re doing young lady,”
the Coast Guard officer said.
Eliza sat up a little straighter. “Yes, sir. I was the top of my first aid class.”
“Young man, how are you doing? Do you want to come with us? Do you feel safe where you are?”
Sam thought about a whole afternoon to explore the town without Mr. Henley and gave them a thumbs up and said, “I’m good staying here.”
“Okay. But take it easy, and if you have any problems at all, go to the first aid office next to the welcome center,” the officer said and signaled the pilot to leave.
“I believe lunch in town is next on the itinerary,” she said.
“But what do I tell your parents?”
Libby smiled. “You don’t have to tell them anything. We won’t, unless you dog us. Then we’ll tell them how you nearly killed Sam.”
Mr. Henley’s eyes narrowed but he handed over the lunch vouchers and moved to the back of the boat.
Eliza handed Sam his t-shirt and an extra towel. “You should
lay back down and rest,” she said, taking a seat a few feet away
from him.
Sam lay back on the towel and closed his eyes, grateful that the boat engines were drowning out the chatter around him. The vibration from the engines was soothing and the warm sun shine helped him relax. He was almost asleep when he realized he would have drowned if it weren’t for Rocky.
Sam shaded his eyes and looked over at Rocky who was still clutching the dripping life preserver. Sam realized he’d assumed Rocky was ignoring him because he didn’t like him, but it was actually because Rocky was afraid of water. He’d let go of the life preserver long enough to throw it to Sam. He even risked falling into the water when he pulled Sam onto the boat. He’d risked a lot for Sam, more than any other so-called friend Sam ever had.
He took another look at the girls too. Eliza could have left him in the inept hands of Mr. Henley, but she didn’t. She used her skills to help him, and by the way she spoke to the Coast Guard, she knew exactly what she was doing. Then there was Libby, standing up to Mr. Henley and cleverly getting rid of him. None of them were who or what he’d thought they were. Now, he was embarrassed about making assumptions and was curious to find out what kind of people they really were.
He thought about the voices he’d heard while he was snorkeling and about whatever it was that kept him from sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He tried to come up with a logical explanation but couldn’t. The only explanation he had was that ghosts talked to him and helped him stay afloat. But that was impossible because he didn’t believe in ghosts.
Sam was too tired to think anymore and finally fell asleep. It seemed like just a few minutes had passed before he heard someone calling his name. At first he was afraid he was hearing things again, but none of the voices he’d heard so far had ever called him Buddy.
Chapter 12
“Sam! Wake-up. No more beauty sleep for you Buddy.” Rocky still wore a life jacket, but he ditched the life preserver as the captain secured the boat to the dock. “I didn’t save you so you could sleep your life away. I need that brain of yours.”
Sam hurried to put on his deck shoes. “Where are the girls?” he asked, then shook his head in disbelief at his own question. Just a few hours ago he would never have cared about them at all.
“They went to get us a table,” Rocky said, stepping off the boat and onto the pier.
Sam grabbed his backpack and joined him.
Mr. Henley stood on the boat, still wringing his hands and watching Sam carefully.
“He’s really not dogging us?” Sam asked.
“Nope. We’re on our own.” Rocky grinned. “And it’s right good to hear you talking more normal again.”
They walked up the pier and down a block to the restaurant. Sam’s legs were still rubbery and he was grateful when Rocky slowed his pace to match his. Before they got to the door, Rocky stopped and turned to Sam.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda filled the girls in on what’s been going on at Henry and Harold’s houses. They seemed real excited about joining in on the mystery,” Rocky said, taking off his hat. “I told them it was okay. I mean, after them helping you out like they did, I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Sure. Maybe they could help,” Sam said surprising himself with the thought.
&
nbsp; “Alright then,” Rocky said, pulling the door open.
Ship wheels, fish nets, and model boats hung on the walls of the lobby and restaurant. Sam cringed as they passed a life preserver. He wanted to forget about how close he’d come to drowning. Before the hostess could seat them, the girls waved at them from a booth overlooking the bay. Rocky slid into the empty side of the booth and Sam followed.
Eliza pushed a basket towards Sam. “Have some hush puppies. They’ll help soak up some of that salt water left in your stomach.
I also ordered you some ginger ale in case you have any nausea.”
“Gramma always gave me sweet tea when I was waterlogged,” Rocky said quietly.
“Wait. What do you mean ‘always’?” Libby asked. “The way you were holding onto that life preserver I figured you never even got close to water.”
“Well, my brothers used to dunk me in the pool…a lot. They never actually drowned me, but I sure swallowed a lot of pool water. ‘Course Gramma gave me sweet tea anytime I was sick. It’s the Texas cure for whatever’s ailing you.”
Sam took a bite of a hush puppy and chewed it slowly, putting off the inevitable. He knew what he had to say, but he didn’t really know how. “I, umm…well…just want to…ah, thank you guys.”
Rocky slapped him on the back hard enough to make him cough. “That’s what friends are for. Right Ladies?”
Libby raised her glass. “So, we might not be friends yet, but how about we toast to starting over?”
They all clinked their glasses in agreement.
“Good. Now let’s get down to finding that missing treasure,” Rocky said, turning to Sam. “What about those articles we
got yesterday?”
Sam cleared his throat. “As you know, I do like facts and data—”
“We know! Believe me, we know,” Libby said playfully.
“Anyway, I like them even more when they’re printed out. So I printed out a copy of all the articles,” Sam said opening his backpack.
“Where’d you print them out?” Rocky asked. “Don’t tell me you brought a printer along on vacation?”
“No. We didn’t have room in the van. I actually tried out some southern charm on Mrs. Wilson at the camp office. You know, like you did with Mrs. Madison at the library.”
“Wait….You got that iceberg to do something nice for you?” Libby asked. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Libby’s response made Sam feel good and he smiled genuinely as he handed her the articles. “These are from the newspaper dated August 20th. I had to look through both the news and editorial sections to find them. The missing letters appear to be due to repeated folding and unfolding of the original document.”
“Hmm, let me see,” Libby said. “Does anyone have a pencil? I love doing cryptograms.”
Sam handed her a pencil from his backpack and searched the other pockets. “I must have left the article about the shipwreck back at the campsite.”
“That’s okay. We’ll check it out tonight,” Rocky said.
“Right now let’s get to ordering some food. All that rodeo work made me hungry.”
Sam’s heart lurched. Rocky was making plans for later, just like they were real friends. He tried to concentrate on the menu, but all he could think about was how much he owed Rocky…and the girls. Sam wasn’t used to being helped and it was both uncomfortable and comforting all at the same time.
The waitress took their orders and Sam was surprised when Libby set down her pencil just a few minutes later.
“I might not have gotten every word, but I think I got the
gist of it,” she said and started reading aloud.
Mr. Henry Humbolt’s wake was held at his home at 15 Bay Street, on Monday, August 19th. Mr. Henry succumbed to the injuries he incurred whilst attempting to rescue the crew of the Dragonfly. He is survived by his beloved wife, Rebecca, and his daughter, Genevieve Stover, who had lost her husband, Bart Stover, two days before.
The shipyard was closed in remembrance of their fallen founder. All employees voluntarily came to pay their respects to their beloved employer. In particular, Charles Duncan, master carpenter, was heard to say, “He be the finest boss I ever had and one of the finest men to ever live in this town. He proved that by working side by side with the rescue crew and even diving in to help poor Bart.”
Many others echoed this same sentiment.
Light refreshments of cucumber sandwiches, peach cobbler, hush puppies, and fruited punch were served throughout the day. Mrs. Carter also brought her Blackberry Jam cake knowing it had been Mr. Henry’s favorite.
Mr. Henry will be laid to rest tomorrow at St. Andrews Episcopal Church. The service will begin at ten in the morning.
“It was two separate articles, but they’re both about the Humbolts,” Libby said. “This one is really crazy.”
TRIPLE TRAGEDY
More tragedy hit the Humbolt family during Mr. Henry’s wake. Henry’s wife Rebecca retired upon the arrival of Henry’s brother, Harold Humbolt. Harold took the night watch to allow the others
to rest.
A few hours later, the household was frightened by gunshots coming from the parlor. Mr. Wellbottom, who was assisting his wife with the clean-up, rushed to the parlor doors, but found they were locked from the inside. “I heard someone scream and then a loud crash. I put my shoulder to the doors and pushed them in,” he told witnesses. “The room looked like a storm had blown in. Then I spied Mr. Harold on the floor, as dead as his brother. A gun was in his hand, but I not be knowing what he’d been shooting at. All the windows and doors were locked up tight.”
No evidence of foul play was found, and no gunshot wounds were found on the body. Doctor Hunter was unsure of the exact cause of death. He considered a paraxial spasm, since the thrashing about would explain the disturbed state of the room. But he also noted that Harold looked like he had been scared to death.
Mrs. Rebecca Humbolt left her home saying there had been too much death in the house to remain. She will be staying at her daughter’s home until other arrangements can be made.
Mr. Harold Humbolt’s funeral will be held Thursday, August 22th at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church.
Eliza took the articles from Libby and looked them over. “Let me get this straight. It was Harold’s turn to watch over Henry’s body when all of a sudden he dies—with a gun in his hand. But only Harold and a dead body were in the room when the gun was fired. And, to top it off, the doctor said it looked like Harold was scared to death. This is getting weirder by the minute,” she said, putting down the articles and popping another hushpuppy into her mouth.
“You know, when Sam and I looked in the window, it looked like there’d been a fight. There was stuff all over the floor,” Rocky said.
Eliza shook her head. “What? And no one’s cleaned up?
It’s been 200 years!”
“Maybe no one could get in,” Rocky said. “When Will showed up he seemed surprised we got close enough to look in the window… and there was a crazy wind that kept trying to steal my hat!”
“That’s interesting, considering Mr. Henley refused to go near the place, like it was haunted or something,” Eliza said.
“Sam, without giving us a whole lecture, what is your educated opinion on the existence of ghosts?”
Sam nearly choked on his ginger ale and stalled by clearing his throat before he spoke. “Well, yesterday I would have listed a dozen reasons why ghosts could not possibly exist,” he said, gathering the courage to take the next step. “Now I’m not so sure. I just had a feeling that Rocky and I weren’t alone at the Humbolt house.”
“Someone besides Will?” Libby asked.
Sam’s stomach flipped up, down, and sideways. He’d never had to explain a feeling before and wasn’t sure how to do it. “Yes, but that was later. When I looked in the window
there was this painting.”
“Rocky said you saw a family portrait of Henry, Rebecca, and Genny, right?” Eliza asked.
“Yes,” Sam said, taking another sip of his ginger ale.
“What didn’t you tell me about the painting, Buddy?”
Rocky asked.
Sam looked around the table. He finally had people who actually wanted to hear what he had to say and now he didn’t know how to say it.
Sam started to speak when the waitress arrived with their food, and everyone stayed quiet until she was out of earshot.
“Come on! The suspense is killing me. The painting was different because…,” Libby prompted.
“Okay, alright,” Sam said. “It was her eyes—Genny’s eyes. I felt them follow me and not like some artist’s trick with light and shadow. This was real.”
“Okay,” Rocky said. “Was there something else?”
Sam braced himself for the mockery and blurted out, “And I thought I heard her ask for help.”
Rocky slammed his hand on the table making everyone jump. “Whoa! That’s a mighty big piece of information you kept
to yourself.”
Sam held his head in his hands. “I know, but I just can’t accept that whatever I heard was a ghost because I have no proof that
ghosts exist.”
“You know, there have been multiple instances of people hearing ghosts,” Libby said.
“Reputable people too, like the man who wrote all those Sherlock Holmes books,” Eliza added.
“You mean Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?” Sam asked.
“That’s the one. And singers and actors, too. Lots of people,” Eliza said. She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “If you think about it, finding the facts you need to support the existence of ghosts could be just around the corner. I mean, germs existed long before people believed in them. It could be the same with ghosts.”
A Ghostly Twist Page 7