Need to Start Packing
I'm about to head home for a while. My plans for Texas this summer have overlapped with an upcoming trip to Massachusetts and conferences in Houston, Texas, and San Antonio, Texas, so I'm all over the place for the next six months.
Now, I'm wrapping up my historical fiction set of short stories about the Outer Banks, North Carolina, so I can carry a copy with me to my Reader near Fort Worth. I can email it, but it's very satisfying to carry a copy with me and personally hand it over.
Here's my rough draft "short" for today about the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. This is historical fiction, so it's based on real characters, real locations, and real events.
For your enjoyment, read on!
Summer 1921
Captain Unaka Jennette
Unaka Jennette, tall and sturdy, and known to various people as Captain Naka, Captain Akey, or simply Cap’n, stood at the bumper to his car and watched the goings-on high in the air above him.
As principal keeper at Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, general maintenance fell into his repertoire, from cleaning the Fresnel lens high in the tower, to ensuring the grounds were neatly clipped and the pens for the hogs and chickens were regularly cleaned.
Buckets of paint and crumpled drop cloths littered the ground around the base of the lighthouse, and over the sound of the sea breaking at the bottom of the cliff, laughter floated down to Jennette. The lighthouse was receiving a new coat of paint, and the paint box suspended from the deck rail on the side of the lighthouse bounced unnecessarily.
“Raymond, what are you boys doing up there?” Jennette held a bullhorn in his hand, calling into it to make sure he got the painters’ attention. He had hired in several local teens to assist the painting crew. Raymond Willers, Shanky NIbbs, and Willard Bellinger were together in the box, and while they were good boys, it was a Saturday morning, and boys would be boys.
“Nothing, Cap’n. Just painting.” Raymond, with his thick shock of blond hair, leaned over and waved a fat brush full of white paint. “Making good progress, too.”
“How ’bout them other two? They making good progress, also?” Jennette watched as a red-headed youth and a dark-haired boy appeared. The red-head was Shanky Nibbs, and his freckle-covered shoulders were bare and sunburnt. Willard Bellinger, with his dark looks, contrasted with the white coveralls he wore, with various colors of paint on them, not from the lighthouse, the keeper trusted.
“Fine, Cap’n Naka,” they called.
“Better not see any rowdiness up there. You let me know when you need the box moved.”
“We will,” the three boys called in unison.
Jennette reached through the open car window and set the bullhorn face down on the seat. The rear of the vehicle was jacked up with a rear tire removed and an empty hub bolted on. A rope encircled the hub, and the free end ran through the air to the top of the lighthouse to a block and tackle at the lantern room level.
The car served as their pully to move the paint box, about five feet wide and ten or twelve feet long, up and down the face of the lighthouse. Now the parking break was set. When the boys finished where they were, Jenette would start up the engine and either reverse or engage first gear to move them to their new position. At day’s end, the boys would be lowered to the ground to head home for the night, releasing them from their duties with their paint brushes.
A bird called from the distance, and Jenette looked seaward to see several circling. Behind him, from the keeper’s house, his wife, Miss Sudie, rang the lunch bell. The scent of mown clover from the compound grounds faded into the aroma of fried ham, and Jennette lifted the bullhorn and called to the boys.
“You boys okay with me heading over for some lunch?”
He got three affirmatives, and he moved to the concrete walk that connected the keepers’ structures. There were coal bins, cisterns and water towers, even privies, one for each family. Almy, eight, Vivian, five, Myrtle, two, and newborn Rany would be inside, if they weren’t lunching at one of the double keepers’ houses. In the afternoon, the children would be running the grounds, never wanting for the company of others their own age.
“I’m here, Mama,” Jennette called into the house as he stepped inside. “Lunch smells good.”
Miss Sudie appeared with an apron wrapped around her, and her hair in a tight knot at the base of her neck. She had a cloth in her hand wiping her fingers. “Might taste good, too. Almy is with the Quidleys for lunch. I made sure she had permission. Oh, the baby’s down for her nap, so we won’t be disturbed while you eat.”
“That’s fine. I can’t take long at lunch. The boys from the village are up on the tower, and they need supervision.” He glanced out the screen door to where he could see the car on its jack, but not the box at the top of the lighthouse.
“They’re good kids, Papa. You worry overmuch. Come sit. I’ve made pie just for you.”
“And for Vivian and Myrtle, I suppose?” His eyes twinkled.
“They’re at the table, if you’ll be so kind as to wash up and join us.”
During lunch, the noise from the box that had troubled Jennette earlier began to filter into the residence. Jenette frowned and folded his napkin and placed it beside his plate. “I suspect white lightning or something like up in that box where I can’t see.”
Miss Sudie placed a hand on his arm and whispered, “Be kind.”
“Just a little lesson,” he muttered. The tall keeper stood, leaned over to kiss his two daughters on the forehead, and he headed toward the front door.
Just outside, the sun beat against the green grass, and it shimmered off the windshield of his car. Quietly, he opened and closed the screen door, walked gently down the steps and made his way to the car. Opening the door with a careful release of the latch, he sat inside, pressed the clutch, and fired up the engine. Releasing the parking break, he shifted into first gear and let it engage the smallest amount. The car shifted with the movement of the box far overhead, and Jennette grinned when he heard the yells of surprise from the paint box.
He reset the parking brake and killed the engine before getting out of the car. He expected the painting overhead would continue without further incident for the rest of the afternoon. As he walked to the house, he caught sight of Miss Sudie on the backside of the screen door, and he raised an arm to wave.
He had the rest of his lunch to finish, and he intended to enjoy it all.
