The Odyssey of Ben O'Neal (15 page)

As the anchor chain was stopped off for sea and the hose went limp, I looked longingly at the
Conyers,
still hearing a faint "Up she rises" as the bark, too, took the breeze and got under way for Rio, fleeting and fluttering like a giant bird, enough to take a person's breath away.

I had just a moment to stand by Tee and Boo. I said, "Oh, my, there goes a grand vessel, Tee." She nodded. I even think Boo felt the same. We were all of blue mood.

So the two ships went their separate courses, on separate tacks. Cap'n Reddy looping out for the southeast; Cap'n Tobias to haul around and slide between St. Vincent and St. Lucia, headed for Mona Passage, up off Porto Rico, northbound.

As workaway, I polished brasswork, tarred the rigging, painted a little now and then, and stood the 8-to-12
P.M
. lookout watch on the bow; helped change sail now and then during the sixteen-day trip.

There isn't much to tell about that voyage north. As workers, the sailors were no better or worse than those on the
Conyrs,
but they seemed dull as oyster hulls in comparison to Cap'n Reddy, the Bravaman, and Bosun Gebbert.

The weather was mostly good, and I worked away as best I could. Tee did her usual, captivating everyone on the ship. Compared to her and that dog, I was just tolerated. I suffered silently, keeping my goal in mind. I did convince Tee that we three should get off in Norfolk, and she twisted Cap'n Tobias and "Gustav" around her finger to accomplish that.

On April 21, we were put ashore in the pilot boat as the
Harriet B. Ritter
continued her voyage to Baltimore.

A
FTER A LONG WALK
from the pilot station, we were on the front porch of. Mrs. Crowe's about 3:30
P.M
., and I rang her bell. In a moment, the door opened and she stood there, mouth agape. She said, "I never thought you'd come back here." Yet I noticed that she didn't seem surprised that Tee and the dog were still in my tow.

"You've been all over the newspapers," she said.

We had? That stunned me.

"We've only been to the Barbadoes island," I said.

"And you escaped handily from there, the
Pilot
said day before yesterday."

I didn't like the way she used the word "escaped." Nor did I like the fact that she seemed very nervous, as if she preferred we go quickly away. She didn't invite us in. I said, "We came back on another ship. The British authorities tried to arrest Tee."

Mrs. Crowe nodded. "It's been all over the paper."

Be that as it may I said, "Mrs. Crowe, we'd like to rent two rooms for several nights and straighten out our problems; keep Boo down in the basement."

She seemed very jumpy, not at all like her old, spicy self. "Well, I don't know, Ben. I could get in trouble with the city, even the federal government. I've never harbored fugitives before. Knowingly, anyway."

"Fugitives?" I echoed, in a shocked tone. "You know we haven't done anything wrong."

"That's not what the British consul told the
Pilot.
I've got those stories inside. And you didn't tell me the authorities were looking for 'Wendy Lynn Appleton last month. That was deceitful."

Tee spoke up and told the truth: "I thought it best not to. I was only going to be here that one night."

Mrs. Crowe shook her head in dismay. "I don't know what to do. You two should really turn yourselves in."

I said to Tee, "Maybe we should talk about that." It was all far more serious than I ever thought. The newspapers, of all things. I'd never even been in the Manteo weekly, except as next of kin to John and Rachel O'Neal. And now that I had made it, it was probably as a criminal.

Mrs. Crowe looked up and down the street, then said, with misgiving, "Well, come on in and we'll talk. But I make no promises."

So we went in, and I took Boo down to the basement, then returned to the parlor. Mrs. Crowe was still jumpy and promptly brought out two clippings.

The first one was from March and reported that Consul Calderham had alerted Norfolk police to a British runaway, further stating that he believed this juvenile, Wendy Lynn Appleton by name, had been persuaded to stow away on a Brazil-bound ship by thirteen-year-old Benjamin O'Neal, of Heron Head, North Carolina. Further stated was that O'Neal and others of Heron Head had repeatedly thwarted the efforts of Consul Calderham to return the girl to London.

It was nothing but a repeat of the mean letter to Collymore, and I quickly pointed out to Mrs. Crowe that Calderham had not told the
Pilot
the reason
why
Tee had run away in the first place: the reason the landlady well knew, down in the basement at this point. But I noticed that Mrs. Crowe began to ease her nerves a bit.

Then we read the second clipping dated two days previous, and I submit it here:

RUNAWAYS EVADE BRITISH POLICE ON BARBADOS

Two juveniles sought by the Norfolk police were reported today to have evaded British authorities on the island of Barbados several weeks ago.

British Consul General Henry Calderham said that he had received a letter from the Honorable Basil Collymore, Queens Solicitor at Bridgetown, stating that Wendy Lynn Appleton, a British juvenile being sought for removal to her native country, had apparently escaped and was thought to be aboard an American vessel bound for Baltimore. The letter was brought to Norfolk by the Furness ship, Cashamara, arriving yesterday.

(
That swift ship again,
I thought.)

Consul Calderham said that the Appleton girl probably was still in company of the one Benjamin O'Neal, a "dodgy" Outer Banks boy believed to have aided her flight from Norfolk in March. Calderham stated that he was requesting the U.S. Marshal to issue a warrant for O'Neal's arrest and is receiving the full cooperation of United States immigration officials in apprehending the girl.

No wonder Mrs. Crowe had been nervous at the front door. We sounded worse than thieves and murderers.
Dodgy. A marshal's warrant for my
arrest.
I could only imagine the dumfoundery of Filene and others on the Banks as they read this terrible story.

Sitting there in the parlor, the one person I wished was around, for many reasons, was Rachel O'Neal. Mama would never have stood for this type of official foolishness. She would have packed her kit in two minutes and come to Norfolk to face down not only Calderham but the U.S. marshal as well.

I said to Mrs. Crowe, "I have never made a telephone call in my life, but I would like to do so now. I'll pay for it." I still had nine dollars and some change of my original fund, plus two dollars and thirty cents wages from Cap'n Reddy. I could well afford a phone call.

"Who do you want to call?" Mrs. Crowe asked.

"A man named Filene Midgett at Heron Head Lifesaving Station, on the Banks."

"How can he help?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. But he doesn't think much of the British consul, and when he knows the truth about this, he may have some good advice." I further said that we Bankers were not very smart but we could use our heads together when that time came.

Mrs. Crowe thought a moment and then said, "All right, Ben, we'll call. It's long distance and you'll need to tell me how many rings so I can tell the operator here."

This was all new to me, but I did know that the station phone for Heron Head was five rings. I'd heard it enough times. So she cranked her phone around to get the operator and things began. Tee hadn't said much through all this. She seemed to be letting me take over, which I appreciated.

It took about twenty minutes, and I was praying that Filene wasn't out somewhere on his sand pony; maybe visiting Cap'n Etheridge, up to Pea Island station, or up to Chicky station to talk to the boys. Or even fishing. After all, it was April and the channel bass were running at Oregon Inlet.

Finally Mrs. Crowe said, "All right, Ben, he's coming on the telephone," and I was just as jumpy as the day I walked aboard the
Christine Conyers.
I took that hearing piece and put it up against my ear and then put my lips against the little black cone on the oak box.

I said loudly, "Cap'n Filene, this is Ben."

Immediately, my eardrum was almost broken. Then I remembered that Filene had never learned how to use a telephone properly. He shouted into it as if he were yelling for oar strokes in a wild surf. I held it away from my head.

"Ben," he thundered. "Where are you?"

"I'm in Norfolk."

"Whatta you doin there?"

"I just got off a schooner today. I'm here with Teetoncey and Boo Dog."

It was a good thing that Filene was yelling so loud, because Mrs. Crowe and Tee could hear every word.

"Ben, the paper yestiddy sez you're in trouble. What'd you do, boy?"

Then I told him the plain, unvarnished truth. Every word of it, particularly stressing about Calderham's taking advantage of Tee once again. I even said that the consul wanted to have Boo shot. I wound up by asking, "What should I do, Cousin?"

That phone line over miles of swamp and sand fell dead for a minute, while Filene thought. Then he came back on. "First," he shouted, "you tell that Norfawk newspaper to watch its tongue. We're good people down here and don't want no gossip spread. Second, you tell that consul, a man I don't like very much at best, to behave himself or I'll be in his office by nightfall to morry. Third, Ben, you an' Teetoncey an' that dog turn yourselves in. Plead innocent to all charges. You got that?" Filene was always one to come through.

"Yessir," I said. "But Tee is guilty of one charge, at least. She took that thirty-one dollars. Of that fund, she still has fifteen. So she owes the British Government sixteen dollars."

Filene roared. "Don't matter that. You tell that foul Calderham we'll give him his stingy sixteen dollars for the Queen. We'll take up a collection down here an' have the Manteo bank send a draft."

I was feeling better by the moment.

"Then you come on back here where you belong an' wait for Reuben," Filene yelled.

"I can't, Keeper," I said. "I've got to get this girl safe to London. Mama would want that."

The phone line fell dead again, and I waited. "All right," he said. "Do your duty, Ben."

I thanked him for all his good advice and hung up, my palm sweaty from holding that earpiece. I blew a breath of relief on hanging it up in the cradle arm, and then turned back to Mrs. Crowe and Tee.

Right away, I could see they were encouraged, too. Filene's fighting spirit had spread all over that parlor. I said, "Tee, you heard him. That's what I think we should do. Give ourselves up."

Immediately, Mrs. Crowe was her old self again. She said, "You know, Ben, I have an idea. I am very good friends with the city editor of that newspaper. I think we should go down and surrender to him, tell him our side of the story. There is one thing about Bill Courtney you should know: He loves animals. He saw a man beating a pet bear at a livery stable over behind city hall and wrote an article about it. Next day, that big man came charging into the newspaper office and asked who had written that story about the bear. Bill Courtney took off his eyeshade, got up from behind his desk, and said he had done it, then promptly knocked the man down."

So that's what we did that late afternoon. We went down to the office of the Norfolk
Virginian-Pilot
and surrendered to Bill Courtney. It was a stroke of genius, because the story he wrote the next day made Calderham appear to be one of the most unfeeling officials around. Courtney was a fine writer, and even though I was involved, it almost brought tears to my eyes to read about the "outrageous" attempt to separate a "tragic orphan" from her dog, and the courageous actions by a boy and girl to prevent same. A picture of all three of us ran with the story, which ran for almost a full page, and no one could have read it dry-eyed.

Mrs. Crowe's phone rang most of the next day, and she seemed to be proud to be a part of it, as did the railroaders. One phone call in the afternoon brought an offer from the Johnston Blue Cross Lines to transport us to London, which was immediately accepted. In no time at all, we were in their commodious offices in the Century Building on Granby Street to complete arrangements. Tee and Boo would go as passengers, as usual, and I would join the crew as deck boy. Sailing in ten days, more or less. Mrs. Crowe graciously offered to
guest
us during that period.

Courtney's story had said that I felt duty-bound to escort the British castaway girl to her doorstep, and the Blue Cross line had noted that. And, of course, I was now experienced from two previous voyages.

I
HAD SWORN
I would never sail on a smoke-belching, steam-spouting coal burner, but there I was on the afterdeck of the SS
Plummer
as we singled up the lines on Monday, May 1, 1899, to commence the voyage to London, England. Tee was up on the boat deck with Boo, and down on the dock were about thirty people, well-wishers. Mrs. Crowe was down there with some of the railroaders and a few women from the railway auxiliary. Mr. Courtney was there, as was Mr. Jordan. Then, there were plain people who had heard about us or seen us on the streets. Notably missing was Consul Henry Calderham, who did not show his face around town very much these fine spring afternoons.

With a
Joseph Clark
tug lashed alongside to carry us out into the stream, we pulled the last lines aboard, and the
Mummer
retreated from the dock. Tee and I waved to all the helpful people who had come down to see us off. Then the ship began to quiver as the steam engine turned revolutions for the propeller. We let the tug go, and headed out to sea, passing several schooners and barks in Hampton Roads making sail for their voyages. I would not look at them, feeling somehow traitorous.

The
Plummer,
under command of Cap'n Stanislaus Johnson, whom I never formally met, was the largest ship I'd ever been on, at 412 feet; she carried a little over 5,000 tons of cargo. Down in her holds were 14,000 bushels of corn, 6,000-odd sacks of cottonseed meal, 4,000-odd sacks of oil cake, 140 cases of finished wagon spokes, several thousand loose oars, in addition to 16,000 sacks of flour and assorted carloads of hard- and softwoods.