Waking Up Gray (22 page)

Gray made the introductions. “Lizbeth Jackson, this is Holly Harris. Holly, Lizbeth.” Lizbeth could hear the relief in Gray’s voice.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Holly.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Holly answered. It had the hint of a pick-up line attached to it.

The situation did a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn on Gray. Lizbeth almost laughed aloud when Gray stepped closer to her, because now Holly was making eyes at Lizbeth, and Gray’s own green monster reared its head.

“Thanks, Holly. I appreciate it. We better get going,” Gray said, all the while lightly pushing Lizbeth toward the boat with a hand in her back.

“See you later, Gray,” Holly said.

Without missing a beat, Lizbeth said in her sweetest southern drawl, “Not if I can help it.”

This cracked up both Gray and Lizbeth. Holly took it in the spirit it was intended and laughed along with them.

Holly started away, saying, “Good luck you two. Nice catch, Gray,” and then she got on her moped and put-putted away.

Gray loaded the tourists into the boat, one by one, helping each down the ladder to the deck. Lizbeth watched Gray laugh and joke with her customers, making each feel warm and welcome. Gray was a people magnet. Women were at ease with her, men wanted to be near her, and the children thought she was “cool.” Gray’s smile and trouble-free air put everyone at ease.

Before leaving the dock, Gray gave a speech, her accent a little thicker than usual for the tourists’ benefit. “Now, all a y’all are here for the drop off out in the duck blinds, right?”

The tourists looked puzzled, but then the adults noticed the grin. The kids yelled, “Portsmouth Island!”

Gray played with the kids. “Oh, oh that’s right. Portsmouth Island. Okay, then before we leave, all the kids under twelve have to wear a life jacket. You never know when a pirate ship will show up and we have to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice.”

The kids grew quiet and their eyes got big. The adults giggled under their hats and sunglasses. The last time Lizbeth had been on the boat with Gray, she had not given this little bit of information. It must have been because that group didn’t appear to understand a word Gray said.

Gray made note of the plastic pirate swords and various wooden weapons, found in the local shops, now attached to the children. “I see some of you have brought along your pirate fighting gear, that’s good.”

Gray continued, as she walked around making sure all the kids were outfitted correctly. “Now, I’ve never sunk a boat…”

“There’s a first time for everything,” a man in the back interrupted.

Gray didn’t miss a beat. “Yes sir, that is true, so with that in mind, under your seats are compartments with floatation devices for everyone. The cushions you are sitting on are also floatation devices. And should worse come to worse and the pirates shoot up the boat, then the boat itself will float, even if it’s cut in two by a cannon ball.”

A little girl, about five, raised her hand. Gray squatted in front of her and said, “Yes, darlin’, what can I do for you?”

The girl, with huge brown eyes, said, “What happens if the pirates capture us?”

“Sugar,” Gray said, pointing at a Coast Guard cutter moored nearby. “See that big boat over there? That is the United States Coast Guard and they watch over all of us. They’ll come rescue us and we’ll all have a big party on the pirate ship.”

The little boys in the group thought that was a swell idea. Several had plastic pirate swords at the ready. Gray had the youngest kids going. They were watching her every move with hanging mouths and wide eyes. Even the two teenagers thought the kids’ reaction was funny.

“Okay, everybody set? Let’s take a scud out to sea, shall we.” Lizbeth recognized the island word, scud. It meant to take a short trip in a boat or car.

Gray acted conspiratorial with the kids, speaking in a hushed voice. She asked, “Anybody want to see where they cut off Blackbeard’s head?”

The kids yelled, “Yes,” in unison.

Gray said, “Arrrrg!” and all the kids and some of the adults followed with their own pirate cheer.

Gray was very entertaining. It was clear that she loved her job. The tourists did not irritate her, which was a prevalent attitude toward the woodsers. Gray reveled in sharing her island with these people. She fairly glowed while doing it. The entire boat was laughing and smiling by the time she was ready to leave the dock.

Gray came back to the stern to crank the boat, after assigning the bowline to a gentleman in the front. She was grinning and so was Lizbeth. Lizbeth had ceased swooning in Gray’s presence, but she was no less enthralled with her. Gray slid into the seat beside Lizbeth, started the engine, checked her gauges, and decided it was time to go. Lizbeth removed the stern line, feeling useful.

With the engines running, even at the slow speed used to exit the harbor, Lizbeth had to lean in close to Gray’s ear to be heard without shouting.

“You’re really good with the kids.”

Gray smiled. “Yeah, it helps if you still are one.”

Lizbeth threw her head back and laughed. That was one thing Lizbeth loved about Gray, her childlike wonder at the magical land she lived in. It was part of her appeal. Gray was forty-four, didn’t look a day over thirty-five, usually dressed like a teenage boy, and had the good looks and charisma to pull it off. Definite Peter Pan syndrome, Lizbeth thought to herself, and giggled because that made her Tinkerbelle.

When Gray sped the boat up out in the channel, the little chop they faced sprayed the passengers, sending squeals of delight from some of them. Gray stood, looking out in front of the boat, checking for changes in the channel from the storm. Lizbeth so wanted to put her hand in the small of Gray’s back, just to touch her. She didn’t. That’s when she felt the first twinge of what Gray had told her yesterday; it would be different in public. Lizbeth understood now what it meant to be a homosexual in America. Whom she chose to love would now be somebody else’s self-proclaimed right to judge.

Gray piloted the boat, unaware of Lizbeth’s sudden realization. It was a twenty-minute ride to Portsmouth Island, but Gray was doing what she called her long tour this morning. She turned the boat toward Ocracoke, slowing in the shallows just beyond Springer Point. The newly changed sandbars beneath the surface kept her vigilant. It wasn’t until she had pulled to a stop and cut off the engines that she began to speak.

Gray winked at Lizbeth before moving to the front of the boat. All eyes were on Gray as she sat down at the bow, in between two small boys. She assumed the campfire storyteller’s persona and began, “On this very spot, on November the twenty-second, 1718, Edward Teach, otherwise known as the feared pirate Blackbeard, was beheaded by Lieutenant Robert Maynard of the British Navy.”

A few “Wows” filled the boat. The adults were into it too. Lizbeth could see a bit of a glint of child in all of them. Everybody loved pirate stories, especially true ones.

Gray went on. “They call this place Teach’s Hole. It appears ol’ Blackbeard liked it here on Ocracoke and often used the inlet in his travels to and from North Carolina. Lieutenant Maynard had been sent on a mission from the Governor of Virginia to capture or kill the dangerous pirate. He found him here, busy entertaining aboard his ship, Adventure, while half of Blackbeard’s crew was on the mainland, in Bath. He had no more than twenty-five men on board.”

Gray built the story. “At daybreak, there,” she pointed at the inlet. All heads turned to where she indicated. “There, through the inlet, Maynard’s two sloops entered the channel. A small boat led the way, dropping a line in the water, sounding for the bottom, guiding the two larger ships. As soon as the little boat came into view, the Adventure fired a cannon shot. It was a warning, ‘Don’t come any closer, we’re pirates,’ but the British boats kept coming.”

Some of the kids were now in the bottom of the boat, gathered near Gray. Gray made eye contact with each child, assuring that they were all anticipating the coming battle. Lizbeth felt herself physically fall more in love with Gray every minute. It astounded her how fascinating she found this woman.

“Does anybody know what Blackbeard looked like?” Gray asked.

The boy beside her said, “He had a black beard.”

Gray laughed. “That’s right. One description said he grew it long and bushy and it grew up to his eyes.” Gray demonstrated how high that was for them on her own face. “He had long curly black hair to go with it. He would twist ribbons in his beard for decoration and sometimes he would put long wicks under his hat so they stuck out, burning and smoking while he dueled with swords on deck.” She took a plastic pirate pistol from one of the children and demonstrated the next part of the description. “He wore a sling over his shoulder, like this, with three of these pistols hanging from holsters and he had daggers and swords.” She handed the toy back to the child, who now looked at it as if it were real. “They say he had fierce eyes and with all that smoke and hair, he looked like the devil himself.”

Gray brought them all aboard with her as she told the tale. “Now imagine Blackbeard coming out on deck and seeing the two big ships moving into position to fire cannons at the Adventure. He shouted at Maynard’s ship, ‘Damn ye for Villains, who are ye? And, from whence came ye?’ Maynard yelled back that Blackbeard could see from his flag who he was and he intended to board the Adventure. Blackbeard ordered the anchor line cut so he could move into position to fire on Maynard’s ships.”

Gray used her pirate voice for the next part. “Blackbeard took a glass of liquor and drank a toast to Maynard, saying, ‘Damnation seize my soul if I give ye Quarters, or take any from ye.’”

Some of the children gasped. “Now, we don’t know exactly what happened, whether the Adventure ran aground or Maynard’s ships did. There was lots of cannon firing and small arms fire, but eventually two ships, the Adventure and the Jane, floated free. The Adventure sent a barrage of cannon balls into the broadside of the Jane. Blackbeard closed the distance on the Jane, with Maynard aboard; cannon balls from the Adventure had crippled the other ship. Blackbeard crashed into the side of the Jane, threw over the grappling hooks, and boarded the enemy vessel, his men throwing homemade grenades across the deck. Loud explosions and men clashing with pistols and swords filled the air. Surely Blackbeard’s band of experienced pirates could take care of the few men left alive on the British ship, but…”

She let the pause hang in the air, before continuing, “Maynard was smart. He had left half of his crew below decks. Once the pirates were on board, the hatches burst open and the men rushed forward, firing and shouting. The two groups fought back and forth across the deck, slick with blood.” The gory details were just what the little boys wanted. They leaned even closer. “Blackbeard’s crew was driven back toward the bow, leaving the great pirate surrounded by Maynard and the rest of his men. The two enemies fired flintlock pistols at each other and then threw them aside. Blackbeard drew his cutlass and managed to break Maynard’s sword with a smashing blow. Maynard withdrew, grabbing another pistol to fire at Blackbeard. Blackbeard rushed at him, but was slashed across the neck by one of Maynard’s men.”

“That’s not fair,” one of the boys said.

Gray grinned at him. “No, I guess it doesn’t sound fair, but Blackbeard was a legendary fighter. Everyone was afraid of him. One man could have never taken him down. He was badly wounded this time, though. Several more of Maynard’s crew, seeing the great pirate at a disadvantage, pounced on him and killed him. The rest of the pirates were captured and later taken back to Virginia for trial.”

“Who cut his head off?” Blackbeard’s young defender asked.

“Well, we don’t know who actually did the deed, but when Maynard examined Blackbeard’s body, he reported the pirate had been shot no fewer than five times and had as many as twenty slashing wounds. They put his head on the bowsprit and threw his body in the ocean. It’s said that his body swam around the ship three times, looking for its head, and then sank below the surface.”

One of the boys said, “Oh, cool.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Gray said, standing and moving back to the console.

She cranked the boat and headed it across the inlet to a small island covered in pelicans. She explained that this was Beacon Island and it was the northern most habitat breeding area for the Brown Pelican. She pointed out the differing colors, explaining the lighter ones were younger. The birds were used to people watching them and paid the boat no mind. The passengers took pictures and then Gray took them to the dock at Portsmouth Island.

As Gray helped the passengers onto the dock, she continued her tour guide speech. “Portsmouth Village was established by North Carolina's Colonial Assembly in 1753. There’s about two hundred and fifty acres here. The last permanent residents left in 1971 and the island became part of the Cape Lookout National Seashore in 1976. About twenty of the buildings are preserved and you’ll find a visitor center at the end of this path. They’ll have maps to help you get around. Just a warning, put the bug spray on before you get off the dock. I’ll be back here at one o’clock to pick you up.”

Ten of the passengers got off at the dock. The remaining family of six was being dropped off on the beach. They had a day of seashell hunting planned. Gray ran the boat up on the beach, helped the passengers down, and hopped back in the boat. Gray arranged to get them at three, but she would check back periodically when she could, in case they wanted off the island sooner. Little kids didn’t always have the same plans for the day as their parents, so she slipped the mom her cell phone number just in case.