A Ghostly Twist Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Carla Solomon

  Edited by Valerie Utton

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Onion River Press

  191 Bank Street

  Burlington, VT 05401

  ISBN 978-1-949066-81-4 Paperback

  ISBN 978-1-949066-82-1 eBook

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2021907487

  Chapter 1

  Sam ducked, bobbed, and twisted until he lost his balance and fell backwards against the lifeguard stand. Slightly dazed, he slid down onto the finely-grained sand of the North Carolina beach and gazed out at the water. For a moment he was alone and free. Then reality tapped him on his shoulder.

  “Hey! The lifeguard asked if you were okay. Are you?”

  “Yes. I am unharmed,” Sam said. He was surprised Rocky was concerned at all since they’d just met this morning.

  “Then come on. Let’s get back to the tour group before

  Mr. Henley has a fit,” Rocky said.

  Sam was surprised again when Rocky grabbed one of Sam’s hands and pulled him to his feet like he was a piece of paper. Once standing, Sam quickly pulled back his hand. He knew the tour group was only for 13-15 year olds, but Rocky had the muscles and calloused hands of a full grown man. Sam quickly looked around to see who was watching. If anyone had seen him fall, they’d already returned to their books or sunbathing. “You see, there was this flying insect and I was—.”

  “Yup, there’s some big ones here. Almost as big as what we’ve got in Texas!” Rocky said.

  Sam continued trying to explain. “I believe it was a Tabanide from the Diptera order.”

  Rocky stared at him, his left eyebrow raised as if asking a question.

  “Horse fly,” Sam said.

  “Why didn’t you just say so?” Rocky asked. “Or are you trying to prove how smart you are? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter. I already figured that out at the campground when you were talking to your folks. All those fancy words made it sound like y’all were giving a lecture or something.”

  “Actually, my parents are professors. They always talk like they are lecturing,” Sam replied, adjusting his backpack. “We were discussing their research on the effect of tidal pool destruction on crustaceans.”

  Rocky’s eyebrow lifted even higher. “You’ve got to stop talking so smart. Folks will think you’re weird.”

  Sam sighed and stared down at the ground. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

  “Now that’s more like it. Give me a few days and I’ll have you talking normal, like me.”

  Sam’s head shot up. “No thank you,” he said, not sure what scared him more, speaking like Rocky or spending more time with him.

  The offshore breeze gusted and Rocky grabbed at his cowboy hat. “That research sounds boring. How about you leave that to your folks and instead use some of those smarts of yours to help me find the lost treasure.”

  It was bad enough that Sam was stuck in this Safe Harbor tour for “dummies.” Now, this simpleton from Texas thought a hand up from the sand entitled him to a return favor. “Look, I know all about the plethora of ships lost along the coast, and I am sure some of them had some sort of treasure on them, but I am not interested in looking for it,” Sam said.

  Rocky pulled off his hat and threw up his hands. “Not interested? Are you nuts? There’s a 200-year-old shipwreck out there and she’s supposed to have had a load of treasure.” He leaned in towards Sam, his eyes wide. “I heard some folks at the campground say the ghosts know where it is.”

  Sam eased back a few steps from Rocky. “I see… and I would use my ‘smarts’ to figure out how to talk to the ghosts?”

  Rocky punched Sam’s arm, pushing him back a few more steps. “You got it.”

  “No,” Sam replied firmly. “Logically, I cannot get it. There is no proof that ghosts exist, so logically, I cannot communicate with something that does not exist.”

  “There you go talking all smart again. But I’m flexible. Seems you’ve got something against ghosts, so forget them. You and me can find the lost treasure all by ourselves.”

  “The sentence should be ‘You and I,’ and the answer is still no,” Sam said, starting to walk back towards the group.

  “Okay,” Rocky shouted after him. “You say that now, but just wait! By the end of this here tour you’ll be wanting to find the missing Dragonfly too… and you’ll be begging to join up with me.”

  Sam rubbed his hand across his closely cropped hair and sighed. Rocky was going to be harder to shake than all the others who’d wanted help with their homework and projects.

  “Boys! Come along now,” yelled Mr. Henley, their tour guide. His hands rested on his soft middle while one foot tapped the sand.

  Beside him were the other two members of their youth tour group, Eliza and Libby. They did everything together, right down to rolling their eyes as soon as Sam was close enough to see it.

  Rocky walked up just as Mr. Henley started his tirade. “You need to stay with the group instead of messing around. Your parents are counting on me to keep this tour on schedule.”

  “Now Mr. Henley,” Rocky said using his hat to point to Sam.

  “This fine young man was attacked by some of the vicious wildlife you have here. Seems to me that you fell down on your job as our guide and protector. If he’d been seriously hurt, you’d look pretty bad.”

  Mr. Henley closed his mouth and compressed his thin lips so tightly they disappeared.

  Sam eyed Rocky suspiciously. No doubt Rocky would expect payback for this too.

  Eliza and Libby were staring at Sam and whispering. From the look on their faces, they were calling him a dork or geek—just like the kids at every new school he’d gone to. He couldn’t help mumbling “childish” and “dumb” under his breath.

  “Fine, now let’s get down to business,” Mr. Henley said. “Take one of these mats and find a place to sit.”

  Rocky unrolled his mat next to the girls and chatted about the hot sand. Sam ignored Mr. Henley’s offer of a mat and walked a few yards away to a solitary bolder near the water.

  “What a useless conversation!” Sam mumbled into the wind. “Of course the sand is hot. It is August and we are on a North Carolina beach!” He perched on the boulder and rubbed its smooth surface. “A big rock like you does not belong here anymore than I do, but we are both stuck here.”

  One by one, Sam pulled off his deck shoes, knocked out the sand, and placed them on the boulder next to him. His long legs dangled over the rock just far enough for the occasional wave to cool his feet. Too bad he could still hear Mr. Henley droning on about local history.

  “Safe Harbor, North Carolina, was founded in 1706. In 1780, Henry Humbolt started what became a thriving shipping company here. His brother, Harold, moved up from Charleston….”

  Sam looked back at the group for a moment, smiling as the ocean breeze made Mr. Henley’s wispy hair stand on end. “President John Adams commissioned one thousand privateers….The Humbolts sent the Dragonfly….Safe Harbor got its name because the curve of the coastline makes for a calm bay….Getting in was, and still is, treacherous….Getting trapped on the sandbar….Ships beaten to pieces by the waves.”

  While the lecture continued, Sam studied the bay. He could see where the blue-green water changed to
a lighter aqua color above the sandbar. When the tide was fully out, the sandbar would be above the water too, like a mini island. A change in the tone of the lecture made him turn back to the group.

  “Why didn’t they just dig up the sandbar and get rid of it?” Libby asked.

  “Or why didn’t the ships go around it?” Eliza asked.

  Sam turned to see Mr. Henley’s mouth open, but no words came out. Sam clenched and unclenched his fists trying to keep quiet, but unanswered questions were his kryptonite. Questions needed answers and when Mr. Henley failed to provide one, Sam filled in the void.

  “Even if they could cart all the sand away from the sandbar, which they could not, the ocean would just re-deposit it.”

  “It was just an idea,” Libby said with a shrug. “You don’t need to get all bent out of shape about it.”

  Sam knew he should stop talking, but he couldn’t let Eliza’s question go unanswered.

  “As far as going around it, that is what the ships try to do. But there are multiple issues in doing so. First, the sandbar creates a rip current that propels anything in the water in the direction the current wants to go, regardless of where the ship wants to go. Second, it extends for miles and could be covered with up to twenty feet of water, making it invisible. Lastly, even when the sandbar is close to the surface, like at low tide, it is hard to detect at night or when the ocean is rough.”

  Eliza shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Nerd Boy.”

  Libby jumped up and pointed towards a building near shore, her ponytail bobbing as she spoke. “How about that, Captain Obvious. Weren’t the lighthouses supposed to warn ships about the sandbar?”

  Now it was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, now we have lighthouses to warn ships. However, the first one was not operational in North Carolina until 1794 and that was out on Bald Head Island, which is miles from here.”

  “Hold up there,” Rocky said, standing up between the warring parties. Turning towards Sam, he whispered, “Stop with the smart talk, Buddy. You’re only making enemies here and we need all the help we can get to find the treasure.”

  Rocky turned back and smiled at the girls. “You’ve got to excuse Sam. It’s not his fault he talks all smart like that. His parents make him do it. And you know how hard parents are to deal with.”

  Eliza sighed, her fingers drawing swirls in the sand. “You’ve got that right,” she said, then looked up at Sam. “You know what? I actually do enjoy learning new things. And just because we don’t know the millions of facts you obviously know, that doesn’t mean we’re stupid.”

  Sam wanted to be angry with her, but he knew she was right.

  “Alright then,” Rocky said, rubbing his hands together.

  “I’m thinking the real point of all this here conversation is that lots of ships wrecked on the sandbar and many of them had a load of treasure.” Rocky turned towards Mr. Henley. “One in particular was never found. Isn’t that right Mr. Henley?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mr. Henley replied. “There are no lost treasures to be found here.”

  “And the incorrect answers just keep coming,” Sam muttered, then said out loud, “The website for Safe Harbor states there were many shipwrecks here with unrecovered cargos.”

  “The kid has a good point, Mr. H. What about the wreck of the Dragonfly?”

  Chapter 2

  Everyone turned to look at a tall boy standing above them on the dunes. He was suntanned, shirtless, and Sam felt a pang of jealousy as the boy walked confidently towards the group. As he got closer, Sam could see he was a few years older than he was, probably 15.

  “Will,” Mr. Henley said. “The Dragonfly wrecked because Captain Stover thought he could outrun Mother Nature. As you well know, everything was lost in the storm, including the ship’s manifest, so no one knows what was on the ship. The story of the Dragonfly bringing home treasure is just a folk tale.”

  Will’s face burned red hot as he strode within inches of

  Mr. Henley’s face. “Maybe blaming the captain is the folk tale.”

  The two stared at each other until Will took a step back, shaking out his arms as if he were shaking off his anger. “Either way, it’s your job as a tour guide to tell this fine group all of our local history.” When he turned towards the girls the corners of his mouth turned up just a bit and he lifted his eyebrows playfully. “Not just the dull and boring stuff.”

  Mr. Henley made a sound as if to protest, but Will turned back and glared at him. Mr. Henley’s mouth snapped closed and he grabbed his mat and sat down behind the girls.

  Will gestured towards Libby and Rocky to take their seats.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce myself. I am the Prince of Poetry, the Lord of Lyric, and the Master Storyteller of Safe Harbor. But you may call me Will,” he said with a bow. “I may not be as long in years as the venerable Mr. H, but I’m a pretty good tour guide myself, and will tell you a tale of love and treasure as no other can.”

  Sam watched the performance like a scientist watching a lab experiment. The girls were captivated by Will. Maybe it was his looks, but more likely it was his confidence. Will had Rocky hooked with the word “treasure.”

  Will turned and stared at Sam, as if trying to pull him into his web of stories and tall tales. Sam responded by leaning back on his wave-worn boulder. Will’s confident mask faded for a second, but was quickly replaced with an arrogant smirk.

  “I see not everyone is intrigued by the tale of the Dragonfly. But there can be no accounting for taste.”

  The girls giggled and Sam felt his face starting to turn red. Quickly, he turned towards the ocean, longing to escape into the gentle rhythm of the waves and get away from other people. Behind him, Will began his tale.

  “Two hundred years ago this Friday, one of the mightiest storms this town ever knew blew its way along the Carolina coast and took the Dragonfly. The storm had been gathering force as it crossed the Atlantic. Then the warm Caribbean waters added fuel to its fury. Savannah was hit hard, but they had no means to warn any of the towns to the North, or the ships already out at sea.”

  Against his best attempt to ignore Will, Sam turned back to watch the production. The others looked even more entranced than before. Will turned to face the water, the others following his lead like they were hypnotized. Sam nodded in appreciation. Will definitely had a knack for storytelling.

  Will turned back to his audience, making eye contact with each one before continuing. “And so, the Dragonfly unknowingly sailed towards home with her cargo. They had captured one, if not more, French ships and had their plunder stowed below decks. They made port in Wilmington just as the seas began to toss and turn. They chose to race the storm home instead of getting trapped in port. Seaman Bart Stover stood on the Dragonfly’s deck wondering if he would ever see his wife and true love, Genny Humbolt Stover again. Bart’s father, Captain Stover, was at the helm so he knew he was in the best hands possible. The ship rode on ocean waves taller than the dunes only to crash down into the troughs on the other side.”

  Will pointed out to the now-calm ocean and moved his arms wildly as if conjuring up a storm.

  “Each wave brought them closer to home and eventually Safe Harbor was in sight. But not close enough. Gusts of wind shredded the sails and waves washed over the decks. They tried to make it around the sandbar and into the safety of the bay, but the wind and waves had other ideas. Over and over the wind pushed the ship into the deadly clutches of the sandbar while the waves pulled it back out. Nature was playing a deadly tennis match and the Dragonfly was the ball. Her bell tolled violently, begging for help. The sound reverberated through the wind and rain into the town and the townsfolk gathered their ropes and rushed to her aid.”

  Will started rocking back and forth as if riding the stormy ocean.

  “The crew scrambled as waves crested ove
r the ship again and again. With each wave, another sailor was claimed by the raging ocean. The sandbar held the Dragonfly captive far away from the reach of any lifesaving rope. Bart knew his only hope was to try to ride one of the lifeboats to shore. He pushed off just as the ship’s finely-crafted hull splintered against the sandbar. The mainsail cracked in two and the ship was finally lost. Bart had escaped the ship, only to be hit by the wreckage.

  “Henry Humbolt, the Dragonfly’s builder and owner, couldn’t bear watching the loss of his crew, especially Bart, his son-in-law so he tied himself to one of the life-saving ropes anchored near the beach and dove into the water, hoping against all odds to pull Bart or any others to safety.

  “The townsfolk continued scanning the churning waters and shore for signs of life. Frantically, Bart’s wife Genny, and Henry’s wife Rebecca, ran along this very shoreline, searching for their husbands. At last, the ocean deposited the lifeboat with Henry and Bart onto the shore. Helping hands pulled the men to their wives, but not for long. Genny and Rebecca each cradled their husbands’ heads in their hands, leaning close to hear their last words. Both men said the same thing. “Keep our treasure safe.”

  Will paused, inhaling deeply and letting out a long sigh before resuming. His voice was low and each word came slowly. “Henry made it home to die, while Bart was taken on this very spot. Some say the crew’s ghosts still haunt the shore. Some say Henry still haunts his house. And what of the treasure of which they spoke? Why would two dying men waste their last words on something that didn’t exist? Yes, my friends. There is a treasure still out there. A treasure the ghosts of the Dragonfly will only share with those who are worthy.” His voice rose suddenly. “Is that you?” he asked, pointing to Eliza, then Libby. “Or is it you?” he asked pointing to Rocky. When he turned to look at Sam, his voice softened as if he was truly thinking about the question. “Or is it you they will trust with their secret?”

  Sam shuddered and then condemned himself for getting caught up in a ridiculous ghost story. There were no facts to support the existence of ghosts so they couldn’t possibly exist. There was no proof that the Dragonfly was carrying a treasure either. Will’s story about ghosts guarding the treasure was just that—a story. Nothing more.