The Sea is a Thief (19 page)

At a careful distance—she wanted the sailors neither to see nor hear her—Nancy followed in her buggy.  The group would pull out of sight, and she would catch up a bit, using her spyglass to track them.  In time, two men turned onto a side street, then two more onto another.  The remainder continued to march north and east, into the rising sun, until two more headed southwards onto a narrow lane.  That left Dreher and Platt.  They walked side by side, both carrying heavy bags on their shoulders, talking and sharing a loaf of bread.  

Finally Platt bid farewell to his friend, disappearing on a track that led to three farms.  Dreher continued on.  Nancy kept her buggy far behind him; surely he would hear it coming, and she wanted to move in secret.  As the road turned she pulled up behind two thick cedars.  She watched Sam Dreher through her spyglass as he walked, then suddenly stopped.  With a careful look to his right and left, he ducked quickly behind the Daisey home.  

Nancy did not know what to make of it.  There was no shame in working at the Daiseys'.  
Why the secrecy?
   

It was still very early; not a time for a social call.  However it might look to the Daisey family, Nancy had to know Sam Dreher's purpose.  She waited a good half-hour after he had made his exit and then urged her horse forward.  As she pulled up in front of the home, she scanned the property quickly.  There was no sign of him.  

Just as she was alighting from her buggy, Beau Daisey emerged through the front door.  He stood stock-still, staring at Nancy.  

Finally he spoke. “Nancy Bagwell,” he managed, very slowly. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit?”  

Nancy, true to her nature, was prepared.  “A request from my father.”  This simple sentence never failed to get anyone's attention.  “He has business with Mr. Dreher.”

Beau was not certain he had heard her correctly.  He descended his front steps, standing directly before her.  “Business with who, did you say?”  

“Mr.
Dreher.”
  Beau spread his arms dramatically and turned from side to side.  “And why would that bring you here?”

Nancy was becoming annoyed.  This must be a charade, like Ethan Platt's little pretense at Zipporah Hill's.  If he was toying with her, she had no tolerance for it; not so early, on a morning so chilly.  

Her voice rose as her temper flared. “He has just now walked onto your family's property with his own two legs, Beau Daisey!”

Beau met her anger foursquare.  “Not to my knowledge, he has not, Nancy.  But if it pleases you, go and look for yourself!”  

She brushed him aside in a huff, headed for the back of the house.  Surely she would find Sam Dreher there, or inside.

But he was not there.  And, when Beau graciously invited her in, a small grin on his face, he was not to be found there either.  

Sam Dreher had disappeared.  

Nancy did not like it, and she was not about to let it go this time.  

“Where are you bound this morning, Beau?”

“Down to the wharf.   Fishing.  If you detain me any longer the boat will sail without me.”  

“That is the last thing I should wish, Beau.  Ride with me, and I will see to it that you arrive more quickly.”  

He could hardly decline.  It would not do to refuse to accompany Nancy.  Truth be told, he needed to hurry.  He climbed into the buggy, and they were off.

They spoke little on the ride to Chincoteague.  Beau was uncomfortable around Nancy.  He had treated her badly and knew it.  He had no patience with the girl, but he felt a certain shame about rejecting her so callously.  When she was not around he did not dwell on it, but now he had to sit very closely by her all the way back to town.

Nancy knew exactly why Beau was so quiet.  Her ability to turn such situations to her own advantage was legendary.  As Beau sat in silent remorse, she was planning her next move.  A thought was taking shape in her mind.

“Where is your sister this morning, Beau?” she asked.  

“I did not see her about the house.”  Beau had not seen Anna either, but hadn't given it any thought it until that moment.  “I must say I do not know, Nancy.  I suppose she is on some errand.”  

Nancy nodded, “So early.”

“Yes.  She is up and about very early. She is often gone before I am.”

“And why is that, Beau?”

Again, he had no answer, but her questions angered him now. “What is your concern for Anna?”

Nancy's thoughts were turning and focusing like the finely-polished lenses of the spyglass tucked into her belt.  She recalled Beau's behavior when he walked in on her at the Atlantic Hotel.  She reflected on Sam's conduct when he worked at her home.  She became more and more confident about the conclusions she was reaching and less and less pleased about their import.   

They arrived at the main wharf with time to spare.  

“Which is your boat today?” asked Nancy sweetly.  

“Thank you, Nancy, I'll have no trouble walking from here,” Beau responded, ready to leap down from the buggy.  

Like a snake striking prey, Nancy's hand lashed out.  Her gloved hand gripped him tightly by the forearm as she met his eyes with an icy stare.  “
Which boat?”
 

He paused, pointing to Elijah Bunting's old buckeye.  “Bunting's boat, the
Jenny
.”  

“Then please allow me a word with Captain Bunting.”  Nancy dropped quickly to the ground.  Planting her buggy whip in its socket, she strode towards the wharf.  Beau followed, clueless about her intentions.   Nancy approached the boat captain, who paused in the midst of securing a line.  

“Good morning, Captain Bunting,” Nancy sang out.

Bunting cocked his head. “Morning, Mss Bagwell. What brings you by so…” He caught himself. “…early?”

Nancy let the comment pass.  “If my family were to require the services of Mr. Beau Daisey today, would that cause you difficulty?”

It was an odd request, but the answer was easy.  Beau was usually the least productive member of any crew.  Bunting waved a bony hand in dismissal.  “No trouble for me, miss.”  He went back to tying off the line.

“Many thanks, Captain,” said Nancy.  “The favor will not be forgotten.”  With that, she turned and began to walk back to her buggy.  Beau stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do.  

Bunting jerked his head towards the retreating Nancy.  “Come back tomorrow, if you're able,” he called to Beau.  

In a few steps Beau caught up to her.  “That's a day's wages, Nancy Bagwell!” he protested.  

She did not break her stride.  “Your wages will be made up to you.  Please come with me.”   She took her seat in the buggy once more.  Beau clambered up next to her just as she was snapping the reins.  They soon arrived at the Bagwell Oyster Packing House, where Nancy tied up her buggy.   At the near end of the wharf was a little sailboat, its fancy woodwork pristine, the sail on its single mast tightly furled.  Nancy buttoned her cloak securely about her throat and then walked quickly to the boat, indicating to Beau that he should follow.  As she reached the mooring, she extended her arm for assistance.

“I should like you to take me to Assateague, if you please.”

“Assateague?”

“You know the way, I am sure?”

“Of course, but--” he stammered.

“What would be your objection, Beau?”

“To go and return will take some hours, Nancy.”  He was dreading so much time in her company.

“Yes.  You were prepared for a full day at sea, were you not?”

“I was, but…” His voice trailed off.  “Why do you wish to go to Assateague? There's nothing on Assateague but wild horses.”

“So I am told.  Are you refusing me, Beau Daisey?”

He was not.  For all the usual reasons, he could not.  

He took he arm and helped her into the boat.  Pushing clear of the wharf, he unfurled and hoisted the sail.  It caught the wind.  With a careful touch on the rudder, he guided them southwards down Chincoteague Channel, towards the tip of Assateague Island.   

The channel was unusually calm.  The lightest of chop slapped the snow-white hull of Nancy's sailboat.  A steady breeze carried them almost silently down the channel.  Black-headed laughing gulls wheeled overhead, curious about the new presence among them.   The sun had cleared the tallest of the pines.  Its glow warmed them as the sail billowed forward.  Had Beau and Nancy liked each other, it would have been a lovely morning's jaunt.  The thoughts of each ran elsewhere.   Beau was resentful at being pressed into service.  Nancy had accomplished everything so quickly and left him no recourse.  This was just the sort of thing she was known for.  Still, he was unable to divine her purpose.  
What did Nancy Bagwell want on Assateague?  
 

He was certain that this was no casual journey.  It was far too early for Nancy to be sightseeing.  Her behavior hinted at some powerful motive; a malicious one, if his instincts were correct.  A creeping dread began to come over him.  This day, he feared, would not end well.

The channel opened to the sea with a hard eastward bend just past the mouth of Cockle Creek.  The wreckage of the
Venus
lay on the far shore, half-submerged. Stripped of anything of value, the hulk was already forgotten.  It served only as an oversized channel marker now.  Beau ruddered eastward, clipping the corner of Chincoteague's southernmost point of land.  In time the open ocean rolled into view, and beyond it the infinite blue horizon.  Nancy stared into the distance, her gaze fixed on the sea.  She paid no attention to her pilot in the stern.

At low tide a strong current ran down the channel between Chincoteague and Assateague, picking up strength where the two islands nearly touched.  It emptied the marshes and the broad, flat pools on the barrier island, coloring the waves and marking the boundary between the estuary and ocean.  As Beau passed the murky band of water he reset his course due north, just outside the rollers coming in to the beach.  The wind was against them now, blowing steadily towards shore, and he tacked from starboard to port to maintain his course.  The sleek little boat with its forward-mounted mast could hold a course close to the wind.  Still, it was slow going.  Assateague bulged into the sea at its lower end; Beau knew it would not be long before the contour of the beach turned flat and straight, running for miles northwards.  Soon the brick tower of the lighthouse would break the horizon, standing tall against the pale sand.  Nancy began to move on her seat, shifting position as they came about, but always watching the shoreline, shading her eyes with her hand.  Beau could tell that she was hoping to see something, but as he peered towards the shore he could not tell what it might be.  

The lighthouse appeared, looming larger as they made slow progress up the coastline.  Nancy withdrew the spyglass from her belt and surveyed it.  Elizabeth Reynolds' tent was still in place beside the structure.  Nancy could see no one inside.  Two ponies lingered by the lighthouse, grazing calmly.  There were no others nearby.

The boat passed the lighthouse in its shallow zigzag course, Beau tacking expertly with the contrary wind.

The beach began to unroll, arrow-straight.  There were few landmarks now, and there would be little to see for miles.  

“Nancy, do you—” Beau began.  He wanted to ask how far north she wished to go; there was no passage across Assateague.  They would have to retrace their path when they returned.  As soon as he spoke, Nancy held her hand aloft, palm towards Beau; she wanted silence.  Immediately she turned her glass northward, and her back stiffened.  Beau knew instantly that something had appeared.  He squinted in the bright sun, straining to focus on the most distant part of the beach.  It was hopeless.  They would have to get closer.  

Beau held the tiller steady, finding a good line.  The wind shifted a bit, carrying them towards land but giving them speed.  As long as he avoided the surf he could hold his course. The strand of beach rolled past them.  Nancy was silent and still.  

When a little time had passed Beau thought he could make out something on the sand, well ahead of them, moving parallel to them as they sailed.  At first he took it to be a horse, then two horses, but something didn't look right.  

In an instant it came to him: they carried riders.  

 

That day in the boat, it took a very long time for Beau Daisey to identify the two riders on the sand.  When he remembered it later, the time seemed to shorten, as the story of a painful loss grows shorter in the retelling.  Beau's hearing was damaged, but his sight was not.  As the riders grew closer a knot tightened in his stomach.  He did not want to accept what his eyes told him.  At such moments a battle rages between evidence and the will.  Eventually the will must yield, and the sadness that follows streams over its battlements into the soul.  

Along the surf rode Sam Dreher.  Beside him, Beau saw his sister Anna.  

Sam and Anna spotted the boat as soon as it pulled abreast of them, Sam first.  Beau watched him stretch his arm towards the sail, Anna's gaze following.  The pair reined in their horses.   He watched them talk excitedly and look again at the boat.  Suddenly Anna wheeled her horse about and set off towards the lighthouse at a gallop, her skirts billowing wildly in the wind.  Sam followed, losing distance as they fled.  Neither looked to the side again.

Nancy's voice took Beau by surprise.  “Back we go,” she snapped, tapping the sections of her telescope together and re-holstering it in her belt.  “The wind will be with us now.  Be quick.”  Beau knew it all too well.  Anna and Sam outdistanced them easily on horseback, but they stood no chance once they dismounted.  Beau had not seen a sailboat anchored near the lighthouse; the two would have rowed to Assateague, taking their time as they came up the creeks and across the ponds.  He would easily beat them back to town, where Nancy would do as she wished with the news she had just gathered.  He knew exactly what she would do.