WhaleQuest!

by Matt Musson

  “I hate to make a mess, but can I show you something about this drawer?” I asked.

  The old man gave a puzzled nod. “Okay. Let me help you.”

  He took out a hand towel and laid it over the drawer. Then, he turned it over on an empty spot on the side counter. The money from the drawer spilled out into separate piles on the towel. He handed the ‘empty' drawer back to me.

  I laid the drawer upside down on the counter in front of me and examined the bottom. There were five screws in the wood. Four were brass. One was nickel.

  “You added a screw to the bottom plate didn't you?”

  “You have a keen eye Jeep,” he replied. “The drawer sometimes rattled. I added that screw to tighten it down.”

  “Well, Mr. Chance. I believe it was loose for a reason.”

  By this time, Mr. Chance, Cindy, and the whole gang were wondering what I had up my sleeve. I just pulled out my multi-tool, yanked out the Philips head and removed the silver colored screw.

  It popped right out and I dropped it into Mr. Chance's open palm.

  I put the multi-tool away and flipped the drawer right side up. Then, as careful as a whispered prayer, I put my hands down on the front corners. With thumbs on the edge and fingers underneath, I pulled. Gradually increasing the pressure, there was a sudden snap.

  And, the underside layer of the wooden drawer slid toward me – revealing a false bottom.

  Every mouth in the place hung open.

  “In the old days, the drawer would not tilt up for you to hide the big bills. Instead, it just slid open.”

  I stood aside and Mr. Chance took my place. Carefully, he slide the false bottom out all the way.

  It was not empty.

  We held our collective breath as Mr. Chance removed a flat leather pouch with a zippered top.

  “Well, Grandpa Frank, you sly old dog.”

  Mr. Chance sat the pouch on the open counter next to the register. With trembling hands he worked the old zipper and opened the pouch.

  A dozen twenty dollar gold pieces sang sweetly as Mr. Chance removed them one by one and laid them out on the counter. Then, out came a small piece of note paper that was folded over and yellowed with age.

  Mr. Chance unfolded the note and stared at it through the bottom of his bifocals. He did not say a word. Then, he laid the note down on the counter next to the coins. And, he walked away.

  He left a dozen gold coins out on the counter and just walked away!

  Mr. Chance made his way into a small side door marked RESTROOM. He flipped on the light switch, stepped inside and shut the door.

  For what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a minute or two, we stood there confused. We heard the water running in the small sink behind the door. Finally, we heard the old man blow his nose. The doorknob turned, and he walked back into the shop, dabbing his face with a paper towel.

  His eyes were red.

  “Jeep,” he announced. ”I don't know how you figured out that pouch was there. But, as long as I live, you and your friends can have all the free fudge you can eat from my shop.”

  “That's awfully nice, Sir. You may come to regret that decision – that may be more fudge than you anticipate. We will certainly take you up on your offer. But, would you mind if I asked what was on the paper?”

  Mr. Chance paused for a moment.

  “It was a note from Grandpa Frank,” he said softly.

  Then once more he picked up the yellow scrap of paper and

  Began to read out loud.

  “To my dear Grandson:

  I am so looking forward to visiting you in North Carolina. I can't wait to help with your new fudge shop.

  I can tell you from experience, you are embarking on a great adventure. Always remember to be fair with your customers. Remember honesty and goodness are more important than profits.

  In the meantime, I hope these old coins help you get off to a good start. And maybe this ancient cash box will bring you the luck it brought to me over the years.

  I can't begin to tell how proud I am of you. I pray that God will watch over you and hold you in the palm of his hand, until we meet again.

  Love,

  Grandpa Frank”

  There were no dry eyes when the old man finished reading. Sobbing gently, Cindy walked over and put her arms around Mr. Chance. Several of the guys slapped me on my back.

  It was not yet noon, and already our trip to Beaufort was turning out to be memorable.

  Finally, Mr. Chance spoke.

  “All this leaking has left my mouth dry. Cindy… a round of cokes for the house! Be sure and put plenty of Cherry syrup in mine.”

  Before long we were smiling and joking, and sipping on handmade cherry and vanilla cokes. Cindy wiped her eyes and returned to the counter – finally helping Charlie with his order. The rest of us sat around three wrought iron tables in the corner by the window.

  Mr. Chance had another dish towel in his hand. This time he was shining up the golden double eagles and sharing stories of his favorite Grandfather.

  We were all surprised when Thor interrupted. Usually he's our strong and silent Ranger.

  “Mr. Chance? Your Grandfather was Frank Chance, Junior?”

  The old Man smiled and shook his head.

  “That means your Great Grandfather was Frank Chance, Senior of Chicago, Illinois?”

  Another nod.

  “The first baseman?” Thor inquired.

  Mr. Chance’s eyes lit up, and he gave us a beaming smile.

  “You must really know your baseball, Son. It's been twenty years since anyone made the connection with Great Grandpa Frank.”

  “Holy Cow!” Shad erupted. “Are we talking about Frank Chance of the Chicago Cubs? Of the 1907 and 1908 World Series Champion Chicago Cubs?”

  Mr. Chance confirmed it with a nod.

  Shad explained in an excited voice.

  “Frank Chance was part of the greatest double play combination in the history of the game. Shortstop Joe Tinker to Second baseman Johnny Evers to First baseman Frank Chance. They called it Baseball's Sad Lexicon because it demoralized the opposing teams – Tinker to Evers to Chance!”

  I spoke up.

  “Tinker to Evers to Chance? I've heard them say that on Sports Center – Tinker to Evers to Chance. But, I never knew what it meant.”

  The old confectioner beamed with pride.

  “That was Great Grandpa Frank; last stop in the Tinker to Evers to Chance double play combination.”

  Then it hit me, and I started to laugh – apparently for no reason. The guys all looked at me like I'd flipped out.

  “Tell me it's not true!” I said. “You Father did not do that to you?”

  Mr. Chance responded with a twinkle in his eye.

  “I'm afraid so, Jeep. Dad loved baseball. He was Frank Chance the third, but he decided Frank Chance the fourth sounded a little too high fallutin’. But, he loved the game.”

  “So, he gave you that name to commemorate it?”

  “Yep. And, it is a name for the ages,” Mr. Chance replied.

  “I don't understand,” said Shad. ”What are we talking about? What name did he give you?”

  Mr. Chance chuckled and came clean.

  “Why it's the greatest double play combination in the history of baseball.”

  “Boys, let me re-introduce myself. My name is Tinker Evers Chance.”

  ************

  Chapter 15 – Monkey Business

  Fortified by good friends, chocolate candy and Coca Cola, we left the Old Fudge Shoppe a half hour later and split up for some individual exploration of the town.

  I hit a couple of souvenir and specialty stores along Front Street. One place had some neat hand painted Christmas ornaments. Oyster shells were transformed into Angels and starfish became colorful five pointed Santas. I picked up a couple of each, and started browsing through the postcards.

  There were
tons of picture postcards of Historic Beaufort, not to mention at least a million different pictures of the Cape Lookout Lighthouse. And, it did not take me long to pick out something for Mom and Dad, and one for my girlfriend back home, Lyndsey Dalrymple. (Lyndsey loves Dolphins.)

  But, I really had to comb through piles and piles before I found the perfect postcard for my little sister Jenny. Luckily, I came across the remnants of some special order cards leftover from a plumber's convention in 1998.

  Who even knew they made postcards commemorating the history of the urinal?

  After I paid for my trinkets, I walked across the street and sat down on a bench on the waterfront boardwalk, next to the small wooden Harbor Master's building. There, I spent the next ten minutes filling out the postcards while I watched a sailboat from Antigua raise its bleached white sails and blow out of the harbor.

  Boy, I really did wish that Lyndsey was here! Maybe someday we could come back together.

  That's when I noticed that sitting next to the bench was a long wooden trough filled with water. It looked like a windowsill box you plant flowers in, and I wondered what it was there for. Then, about five minutes after I sat down, a little old lady in white shorts and a stars and stripes top, came strolling along. She was wearing dark glasses about the size of snorkeling goggles and had a sombrero-like straw hat that was embroidered with ‘World's Greatest Grandma'. She also carried a canvas purse that you could hide a body in.

  Stopping in front of my bench, the world's greatest Grandma reached into the bag with one hand and pulled out a teacup sized Chihuahua. She lowered the little brown bug-eyed creature to the ground where it trotted over to the water trough and got a drink.

  Oh, I realized. It's dog water.

  Mystery solved, I went back to my post carding.

  I've always felt the great thing about postcards is that there's no room on ‘em. You don't have say anything on a postcard. If you write big you can hardly fit ‘I'm fine. Wish you were here.'

  It's sooo much easier to write a postcard than a real letter. And, not only that, the stamps are even cheaper. (It is like instant messaging – only not instant.)

  Anyway, it only took me about ten minutes to fill out and address all my postcards. I capped my pen, and looked up and down the street for a mailbox.

  I started to get up from the bench, when I looked over and saw that another, larger dog was drinking from the trough. This dog was bigger than the Chihuahua. But, it was covered with short brown hair that was about the same color.

  It did not have a collar, so I figured it might be a stray. However, this K-9 did have an amazingly long tail raising up from his backside. The tail bowed straight upwards over two feet in the air like a hair covered garden hose. In fact, it was the most unusual dog tail I had ever seen.

  Then noticed something else unusual about this little brown dog. IT HAD HANDS!

  “Holy Mutant!”

  I jumped up, startled by the creature. But, I think I returned the favor. The dog with hands took off like a shot! In about half a second it disappeared in a thick oleander patch on the side of the Harbor Master's building.

  Jeez, what the heck was that thing?

  Cautiously, I walked over towards the building. But, as I approached, I heard a rustling in the bushes. The creature used plant cover to scamper down the side of building and around the corner without being spotted.

  Whatever it was, it was gone.

  Not knowing what else to do, I returned to the bench and picked up the postcards I had dropped during the excitement. Then, after looking both ways, I crossed Front Street and walked into an old time wooden building with a sign out front that read ‘The Beaufort General Store'.

  *************

 

  The General Store had an interesting mixture of really goofy Chinese-made ‘Beaufort Souvenirs', and convenience store items for the itinerant boat people who docked across the street. At the back of the store was a sign that said COIN LAUNDRY. (I guess there aren't any washers and dryers on sailboats.)

  Along one side of the store was an ice cream counter where I spotted Shad and Freddie. They were paying for some chocolate and whipped cream covered concoctions that barely fit inside their oversized waffle cones.

  I waved at the guys, and they waved back. Then I turned to the lady manning the register near the door.

  “Excuse me, Ma'am. Is there a mailbox or post office around here anywhere?”

  She motioned towards the door.

  “The post office is five blocks down on your right. But, if you want to, you can drop your mail in the basket next to that pile of canvas flags. John, the mailman, will be by in a couple of hours and it'll go out in today's post.”

  She pointed over to a straw basket sitting five feet down the counter.

  “It’s a little service we provide for our sailing customers,” she explained.

  Well, I am not the kind of guy who's going to walk five blocks down and five blocks back if he doesn't have to. So, I thanked her and moved down to the basket to make my deposit.

  But, as I was laying my postcards atop John the Mailman's pile, something caught my eye. I recognized the handwriting on a bright purple colored envelope that was sitting on top of the paper heap.

  Pausing for a second, I glanced at the address on the letter in question: Miss S. Sonoma, 221 Baker Street, Lenoir, North Carolina.

  A huge smile broke over my face as I dropped my postcards on top of the stack. Then, I turned and walked out of the General Store's front door. As I stepped down the brightly painted wooden stairs to sidewalk below, I laughed out loud and said to nobody in particular - “Bogdon Peabody, you sly old dog.”

  ************

  Gills is an old stucco gas station turned restaurant on the edge of the Beaufort waterfront, across the street from the North Carolina Maritime Museum. A large wooden deck sprouts from the back of the building and melts into a wooden boat dock extending into Taylor's creek. Tropical banana trees and bougainvillea give the place a Margaretville feel. And, the chance to eat out back, watching sailboats, wild horses and the occasional pod of playful dolphins, attracts diners from all over to this colorful little restaurant.

  The Rangers reassembled at Gills because it was reported to have the finest French Fries in all of Carteret County.

  We hit the place after the lunch rush and pretty much had the entire deck to ourselves. Pulling a couple of white plastic tables together, we surrounded them with white PVC chairs. Large umbrellas provided shade while a steady breeze made the deck comfortable even on this warm summer afternoon.

  Our waitress was a college student from UNC, named Orion. She had shoulder length chestnut hair that just reached the top of her scarlet ‘GILLS' t-shirt. Her emerald eyes sparkled and she had large deep purple eyelashes and smoothly tanned skin.

  We must have been hungry because neither Charlie nor Donnie tried to make a date.

  Orion took our drink orders and asked if we wanted any appetizers. A famished Shad McReynolds, with fudge stained fingers and a big ice cream spot on his sleeve, ordered “French Fries for everyone”. Thor added a request for nachos and homemade salsa. Donnie asked a question about the Calamari.

  “Is your squid fresh or do you use frozen rings?”

  “It's definitely fresh,” Orion answered. “Our cook gets a batch each morning right off the boat and he cleans them himself.”

  “In that case, bring us two baskets with lots of cocktail sauce. And, tell the Chef – ‘Hot and Crispy.' ”

  “And make we get sure lots of tentacles!” Freddie added.

  Before long we were munching our way through fried squid, French fries and nachos and washing it all down with ice tea with fresh cut lime.

  You would think we might be full by the time Orion brought out plates of thick cheeseburgers and fried whiting sandwiches. However, our appetites were only sharpened at that point, we fell on the platters of food, and took no
prisoners.

  Toby, who is more health conscious that the rest of the guys, ordered a chief salad with grilled chicken strips. Orion brought him a huge plastic bowl full of greens and two containers of ranch dressing. Soon, he was crunching through homemade croutons and a mountain of chilled lettuce.

  For some unknown reason, Toby would not eat a hardboiled eggs if you held a gun to his head. So, he removed two peeled eggs from his bowl and placed them on a napkin in front of the empty chair beside him.

  There was not much talk at the table. For the next few minutes, we concentrated on our grilled and fried treasures. Shad worked his way through his second order of French fries, like a wine connoisseur appreciating an extra fine vintage. He showed off one French fry that had to be six inches long. Shad covered the fry with ketchup and was just putting it up to his lips when suddenly he froze.

  Without saying a word, he pulled the still unsampled fry from his mouth and pointed it like a wand towards the napkin next to Toby. Puzzled, we followed his stare and noticed there was only one boiled egg left.

  Then, as we watched speechless, a long furry tenticle reached over the side of the table and encircled the second egg. Quick as a whip, the tail and the egg both disappeared over the edge.

  We weren't scared – but were surprised. No one spoke until Charlie whispered.

  “Toby, put a couple of your cherry tomatoes on the napkin.”

  Toby fished a couple of inch long tomatoes from his bowl and refilled the napkin. Within seconds, the tail made another appearance and snatched the napkin clean.

  About that time, Orion walked out onto the deck with a pitcher of Iced Tea.

  “You boys need anything?” she asked.

  “Yes,” replied Bogdon. ”Can you please bring us a bowl of cherry tomatoes. And, maybe some grapes if you have any?”

  “Sure can,” Orion answered cheerfully.

  She left the pitcher on the table and went back inside the restaurant. Within seconds she reappeared with a bowl of tomatoes and a bowl of green grapes.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  “I think we're good for now,” Charlie answered.

  “I check on you guys later on,” Orion said, and she disappeared back inside.

  With the waitress out of the way, we turned our attention to ‘the thing' beneath the table.