Surfmen and Shipwrecks: Spirits of Cape Hatteras Island

By Jeanette Gray Finnegan Jr.

Living in the shadow of the mighty Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, miles from the village, Ellie, Luke, and Blake exist in a world of spirits, mystical wolves, and stories told by their grandfather, the keeper of the lighthouse.  In the fourth of a  five-volume series, the three children of the Jennnette family travel back in time to discove

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeanette Gray Finnegan Jr.
• Release date: Apr 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9780692112113

Jeanette Gray Finnegan Jr.

Jeanette Gray Finnegan Jr., (Torok), is a tenth generation islander whose childhood was spent on Cape Hatteras when it was totally independent of mainland amenities. Jeanette---Jaye to her friends--- graduated from East Carolina University with a double major in English and History.. She did extensive graduate work at Old Dominion University in photography and art. After teaching English and Advanced Placement U.S. Government, the author returned to the island to write. The five books in this series have been in the works for over ten years. Extensive research using all books on Hatteras Island available on line, libraries, book stores, magazine and newspaper articles written in years past, interviews with local island residents who shared both written word and personal photographs, family stories and recollections of her 102 year old mother who also contacted sources, were all exhausted to gain information. The island is changing, and multigenerational fmilies are dwindling. Thee books recall those moments that made life special and depict a proud and innovative people, living on the edge of the world. Pirates offers a fictionalized account of the times that history recorded as having taken place. The children continue to recount what it was like growing up in isolation from a modern world, and tell of a time when needs were few and everything was provided from the land and sea. Enjoy the sights, sounds, and smells of this strip of land you obviously feel connected to also. This is what it felt like to live a natural life, surrounded by family, friends, few strangers and a lot of excitement. Growing up "island", was a special privilege with some unusual memories.

Book preview

PREFACE

This book presents a partial and abbreviated story of the full account of what it was like living on this island as it became its own force of protection to the mainland. Once the country came into its own, trade and wars with other nations became a part of the fabric. Travel and trade sped across the land in the form of railways and stagecoaches, later buses and trucks. The most cost-effective method proved to be transport by sea. The ports of the United States down the seacoast bordering the Atlantic Ocean were thick with all types and sizes of floating vessels. They carried weight with ease, and if the wind was right, sails were full and free. The currents became known, as did the obstacles. The shoals off the coast of Cape Hatteras were the most dangerous, as they formed at the juncture of two useful rivers flowing in opposite directions and meeting at the Point on Hatteras Island. The conflict forced up huge water sprays, sand, and as a result, inclement weather.

This book tells of the growth in solving that problem. First, the government was only concerned with loss of cargo. Later, as those undersea rivers began to carry passengers, their loss became personal, thus the Lifesaving Service.

The men who lived all their lives surrounded by water were the perfect soldiers to save both cargo and lives. There are only a few mentioned here. The keepers were known. The surfmen, numbering from one to eight, strong of back and hands, were seldom named, even though they, too, dedicated their lives to saving strangers. They did not ask what language, what country, or what the circumstances were surrounding the peril that put them in this position. They did what they would have hoped and expected to have been done for them.

The accounts given here are as close to historical truth as could be offered. Much research went into each storm, each documented wreck, each life offered for another. An Act of Congress (18 Stat 125, 43rd Congress) authorized

medals of honor, to be distinguished as life-saving medals of the first and second class, and bestow them upon any persons who endanger their own lives in saving, or endeavoring to save lives from perils of the sea bordering the United States, or upon any American vessel.

A note of interest: The Lifesaving Medal is unusual among U.S. medals because it is actually struck from precious metal, silver or gold, depending on the grade. Most other medals are struck from inexpensive alloys.

Since 1874, more than 600 gold and 1,900 silver medals have been awarded. There were fewer awards of Lifesaving medals than Medals of Honor.

Of those awarded who were not connected to the official Lifesaving Service the names of the following are included: Rear Admiral Richard Evelyn Byrd, Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, and General George S. Patton. Seven of the lifesaving stations on Cape Hatteras Island produced recipients.

Entire books have been written lauding the valor of the men who dedicated their lives to saving others. To hear the men tell it, yes, they were scared, and no, it did not hamper them.

Life-saving crew had spent twenty-four hours in an open boat, without food, and with no other nourishment other than cold water, their limbs cramped with cold and lack of room to move about, and their bodies aching from maintaining so long a sitting posture.

—taken from the log of inspector C. F. Shumaker, after an eighteen-mile row, in the dead of winter, back to the station, the row made harder by the added weight of rescued victims and weary surfmen

The facts are true. The fiction provides the opportunity to see the villages and the heroism through the eyes of children. The accounts retold involved information we all wondered about but had no one to verify it. This was the life of the island during that time in history—before the bridge, before a paved road, before strangers.

From the Creeds Hill Station, during an atypical winter storm of driving snow, the men who ventured out to the schooner A. B. Goodman were told, Write your wills, boys. We’re goin’ to the shoals. But, as those of us who grew up on this island know, what did they have of any value, other than character, bravery, unselfishness, and courage under duress?

Lifesaving stations, when finally they were deemed necessary, were located all down the Atlantic coast, around the Gulf of Mexico, on the entire coast of the Pacific, on the Great Lakes, and on the rivers and interior lakes of the United States. They were built and manned on every waterway connected to the country, where wind and gale could make the waters angry enough to swallow its riders.

This book is concerned, in part, with the victims in and around the Diamond Shoals located just off The Point of Cape Hatteras Island. The wrecks were as much a part of the island as the early settlers. Many now prominent families had their origin here by shipwreck. They stayed and became a part of the weave of island men. The shoals became notorious. On a personal note, when I was a child, walking the sandy roads to the store for my grandmother, it was not unusual for a stranger to pull alongside and ask directions to the graveyard of the Atlantic. For years I did not know what they meant.

The Diamonds deserved to become famous. For example, the Mary Varney rounded the capes on a run from San Francisco to New York, loaded with ten heavy redwood boxes containing bars of gold. She had been on water for one hundred days when she gained The Point off Hatteras Island. She hit the shoal and stuck. There was only a spring gale when she drove hard into the shoal. She did not break up. Rather, she loosed her masts, rigging, and various unattached articles on deck—those she gave to the islanders. The gold she kept. Of course, this is not the first account. Therefore, there have been numerous attempts to recover the treasure. The fact survives: when she has taken a ship for her own, no man’s hand may ever again touch her. For four centuries, ships have buried on those shoals. Also, that many years for the shoals to swallow. No burps, just swallows.

The island got horses from the Pocahontas and the Prince of India, stovepipe hats from the Flambeau, bananas from the Cibao, chalk from the Josie Troop, a dance floor from the Irma, resting nearby, for the visitors at the Croatan Hotel. Lumber came for building more than a few island homes; the entire construction of a barber shop in Kinnakeet, chair and all; a boatload of ladies’ millinery, plus the entirety of what was needed for building a church in Salvo. Recently, the beach at Frisco was covered in bags of Doritos. The sea has been a never ending bounty for island inhabitants.

As early as Sir Walter Raleigh, a ship under his command, Tiger, was lost near Chicamacomico. The Indians got a plethora of ware from the sea. Some things they did not understand. Copper pots and iron in various forms washed up on the shore, and they devised a use for it. It is the nature of an island.

There have been over 170 hurricanes to date recorded at the Weather Bureau on Hatteras Island since it was built in 1944. Only those that actually hit Hatteras make up that number.

For those islanders who marveled at the new weather predicting building, Captain Bernice Ballance asked the question, Don’t they ever look out the window? And what about the moon. Do they ever look at the moon?

This was the island way, and it worked pretty good.

The Woman on the Beach

Blue snorted and pawed at the ground, his efforts making huge divots in the sand. On this dreary moonless night, he was impossible to see. Behind the dune, the blond fur of a wolf was almost invisible, with the exception of her golden eyes like tiny moons moving through the sea oats. The wolf was visible only through the frequent flashes of light cracking open the sky, but Ellie did not notice her friend. Ellie’s concentration was settled on the shore. Twylah’s presence went unnoticed. Other than those fleeting moments of light, the huge wolf blended into the sand. Ellie, astride Blue, strained to see the figure on the beach. She was also unaware of the sounds of the horse, as the roar of an impending storm drowned out all other noises. The surf was boiling angry at what seemed to be high tide. The waves drew close as they broke and rushed to the dunes, leaving silvery foam stretching jagged in a line as far as she could see.

Ellie was afraid to urge Blue on. She was not sure just how high the water would go. Not even knowing the time, she was unaware if it was a regular high tide, a storm tide still coming in, or even if was receding? A stiff wind accompanied the furious surf, and she leaned forward, choking up her grip on the bridle of the horse to stay stable. In her haste, she had been so secretive about taking him from the barn that she did not bother with the saddle. She was practically bareback on her mount, with only a blanket between her and the slick wet back of the horse. She had never before ridden without a saddle, so this was a first. She even realized at that moment how much Blake riding behind her had steadied her. This time, she was alone.

Ellie had awakened from a deep sleep to the slapping of the shutter on the side of her window. The summer storm had come up suddenly, and she crawled across the bed to the window to lower the window against what she figured would be an onslaught of rain usually accompanying a sudden gale like this. The window did not move down easily, and she stood up on her bed to give it her full weight. As she struggled to unstick the stubborn sash, a streak of lightning crossed the horizon, and she thought she saw something silhouetted against the sky. There appeared to be someone on the beach in front of the lighthouse. Another sharp crack of lightning. This time the figure had moved. The third flash revealed the shape of a person cloaked and hooded against the storm, pacing up and down in front of the wash, always facing the sea. She watched transfixed as the rain began to come down, and still the dark figure paced in front of the rushing water, almost daring it to touch. As Ellie continued to watch, the water appeared to run under the dark form, but the person seemed not to notice. Was this someone about to step into the dangerous, raging surf? She did not see a boat, and with that heavy cloak, the person would possibly be dragged out to sea. She had to know.

Ellie quickly grabbed her slicker and put it on over her nightgown. She found her rubber boots and her rain hat with the flaps. Dressed for the storm, but still in her nightgown, she slipped quietly down the stairs and out to the barn. She wanted the comfort of a companion should this adventure turn against her. Gingerly and without any trouble at all from the animal, she moved Blue out of his stall, led him over to the fence, and motioned him to kneel for her to mount. The young stallion obliged, and with her bidding, he slowly rose and walked in the direction of her urging. He seemed to respond well to her holding his mane as she struggled to apply pressure. His back was so broad, and she so small, she was having trouble guiding him with her knees. She could not shake the feeling that she was close to sliding off. Holding tight to his mane, she entwined the thick hair around her clenched fists to hold on.

Within only a few steps, she was losing her grip. She kept slipping around on his wet back, so she nudged him back to the barn for the bridle. Once again the great horse kneeled down, and along with a bridle this time, she opened the wooden chest and grabbed another blanket for his back. She had learned the first time how slick his coat was in the rain, and she needed something between her and the horse to give her traction. Again she mounted, and for the second time they started off.

Sitting atop Blue, with the wind and rain now running sideways, Ellie wiped away the water from her eyes and peered into the light every time the sky flashed, trying to focus on the area where she first saw the man. The dark form seemed to be in the water, then on the next crack, not in the water. Ellie gave slight pressure with her knees, and Blue responded to the touch. He did exactly what she wanted him to do, only moving ahead with caution. Twylah shadowed them from behind the dunes. The wolf did not reveal herself but instead simply trailed the pair, in case she was needed. Her ears were turning in all directions listening for trouble. Ellie was one of her cubs, and as she taught her cubs to be independent, so would she treat this one the same.

The closer Ellie rode to the figure, the more curious she became. Gradually as she drew closer, she could tell from the cut of the cape and the movements of the shape that it was a woman. At this realization, she relaxed a little and reined Blue toward the dune. Ellie dismounted and led the horse to a clump of sea oats that were close to a half-buried piece of driftwood. She tied Blue to a protruding spar of the wood, knowing that he would stay. Ellie began to approach nearer the strange apparition.

Hello? she called out, cupping her hands to her mouth to block out the wind. Hello? she said again as she closed the gap between them.

The next discharge of light running through the heavy dark clouds revealed the face of the figure as the woman turned to confront her. The hood was close, covering her features, but Ellie could tell that she was young. As Ellie again moved forward, she had to blink twice to believe what she saw. Nothing! The cloaked shape was no longer there. Ellie whirled around and around, looking everywhere, even went down closer to the wash to see if the woman had indeed entered the furious surf. There was nobody, anywhere. Ellie stood long enough to satisfy herself that the lady was gone, and finally, wet and confused, she turned back toward Blue.

This time, when Christo crowed, Ellie awakened to realize that she was in her bed, in her nightgown. The window was open, and the sun was beginning its climb up from the horizon line far out to sea, over what seemed to be a typical summer day. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, pulled up to a crouch, and hugged her knees. She placed her head on her knees and concentrated hard as she tried to reconstruct the dream. Her thoughts were interrupted by Blake’s knock on the doorsill of the open door.

Whacha doin’? he asked.

Hey, Cuz, get ready. We got a lot of stuff to do today. We gotta get outta here! Luke was grinning behind Blake, and they both were already dressed.

Ellie straightened up and just stared at them, seemingly looking through them. Still dazed, she was having a hard time coming back from her dream. She motioned for the guys to come sit with her on the bed.

Hey. Ellie was slowly getting her senses back. She patted the bed and scooped aside some of the dolls that were in their place at the foot, giving the boys a cleared spot. Long ago they had accepted the special place dolls held in Ellie’s heart, and even though Blake huffed and puffed about girls! he also accepted that dolls were as special to his cousin as his flints were to him—the exception being that dolls had no use.

I had a dream, she said sleepily and shook her head to clear her thoughts. She thought she better spill all at that moment, because she might not remember the details if she waited, and they seemed to be clear in her memory now. She needed to tell it quickly, so as not to leave anything out.

Luke noticed the glow around Ellie, usually present when the spirit was building around her, and also a sign that this was a tap-in to the strange powers she possessed.

Remember last night when Grandpop was telling us the story of his name? Well, it caused me to have a very strange dream, and I think it was about that. Ellie began.

Both boys were silent. She had piqued their interest, and they came into the room to hear more. With care, they further moved enough of Ellie’s sleep partners to find a place on the bed to sit. Knowing how important the dolls were to their cousin, they were taking caution not to insult any of the toys she treasured.

You look like you have seen a ghost, said Luke, grinning, sort of making reference to the rosy glow surrounding her.

I did! Ellie’s eyes widened. It was all coming back to her now, and she looked around the room at the open window, the clear day, and the cloudless skies.

This last remark snapped the boys straighter. Maybe for them to hear that from anyone else, it might not have had the same effect, but from Ellie, it was different. Ellie did not joke about her intuitions nor her dreams. If she said she saw a ghost, she was telling the truth—or, at least, the truth as she saw it. Ellie had more powers than both of them combined, and the thoughts and dreams that came to her, they had found, were quite often a revelation that was from a deeper consciousness than normal—although they might not have phrase it that way.

Ellie was anything but normal. She was small, now almost eleven years old, with hair so long and curly it had to be contained in braids. To see her sitting here in the middle of that wild mane of sandy-colored hair was familiar, with that little face all pink and thoughtful. She had beautiful blue eyes like Grandpop, which looked so small inside all those curls. She was not, as they knew it, what one would call normal. On the outside, everything looked natural, but what went on inside of her head was anything but ordinary.

The boys had begun to notice Ellie slowly coming into her powers. They even had discussed it at night in their shared room and whispered about the things they observed about her that had changed. They had been exposed to what they had come to express as the ‘knowing’, as it resulted in finding the pirate’s chest. Ellie had seen where it was, just as she had seen the boys in the caverns when she was above them in the house. They knew to pay attention to her when she brought forth one of her feelings. They had observed and experienced her energies, experienced her power move through them when they all concentrated their efforts. The old Indians, Weroansqua and Powwaw, had given both boys the ability to strengthen Ellie, but alone they were unable to complete tasks they managed when they all worked together.

What had started out to be a normal day was beginning to shape itself into something quite different. This was to be the first day of packing up the house to move. The world war that the boys’ father left to fight was coming to them. They had begun to sit at the top of the steps at night and listen to Grandpop and his friends talking. They had also fallen asleep many nights on Ellie’s bed, as her room was over the front porch. With the window open, they could clearly hear the conversations between the navy and Coast Guard men as they sat on the porch with Grandpop to share a smoke while they discussed what could or would happen should this second war take the same pattern as the previous one, known before then as the Great War. During that conflict, also with Germany, the submarines of the enemy had been successful in interrupting cargo up and down the Atlantic coast by torpedoing the merchant ships close to the coast carrying much needed supplies. The most desired position for U-boats—as the submarines were labeled by the Germans—was to submerge and lurk in waiting off the shores of Cape Hatteras, where the ships had to swing out to avoid the shoals known as the Diamonds, located twelve miles due east of the lighthouse.

The men spoke in hushed tones to Grandpop. Usually they sat for hours on the porch smoking and talking strategy out of earshot of Grandmom and Nett. These men also had families at home and were not interested in alarming the women—whose sons and husbands were either already in this mess, or destined to go—with talk of war. Captain Charlie was a respected man, and his years of watching the coast were invaluable to the newcomers. They recognized they needed his help to understand this unusual island and fortify it as the first line of defense. One thing they insisted on was that the captain and his family move away from the beach. They needed to shore it up, as Grandpop often said. Pretty soon the sand banks outside their windows would be crawling with navy, Coast Guard, and who knows what else. The government did not want to have to worry about an old man and his curious children underfoot.

The kids were informed, and they had decided among themselves that they would not be afraid. Blake even talked of helping. Now, what could a nine-year-old do to help fight a war? Luke and Ellie smiled when he started on one of his adventures and just let him ramble on with his imaginary what-ifs, even encouraging him to see how far his imagination would go. They thought it better than to scare him. War was coming to their shore, and they had to move away to make room for those whose job was to fight it.

Going away was not an uncomfortable thought, as it meant going to the house on the hill in Trent Woods. The kids had all decided that they would come back, They never let go of the idea that they needed to be around to protect the lighthouse. After all, it had protected them for all their lives, and now it was their turn to return the favor.

Last night Grandpop told us the story of how he got his name, and I think I had a dream about that. Ellie started again.

The story about the portrait? Luke asked.

Kinda, but more than that. I dreamed there was a summer storm, with rain and lightning, and I tried to put the window down so I wouldn’t get wet. It was hard to move, so I stood on the bed to push it down, and when the lightning lit up the sky, I saw someone on the beach. Each time it flashed and illuminated the sky, there appeared to be a figure, all dressed in black, in a long, dark hooded coat, like the man in the poem ‘The Highwayman.’ I kept standing up, and each time lightning struck and showed the beach, the thing in the long coat had moved, like it was walking back and forth, always looking at the sea. Anyway, in my dream I decided I would take a look, but I was too scared to do it by myself, so I put my clothes on and went to get Blue.

Why not us? Blake asked, like he was insulted.

You know, now that I think about it, I don’t know why, but I didn’t. I went to the barn and got Blue, and we went down to the dune line. When we got there, the person was still there, so I tied up Blue, and walked over to it, and said, ‘Hello.’ When I said that, it turned around, and even though the hood was close down, I could tell it was a young girl. As I moved to stand beside her, she disappeared. Just like that! I looked to see if she went into the ocean, but she did not, and then Christo crowed, and I woke up. Ellie was flushed even as she was telling the story. I think it was Theodosia Burr!

What? both boys reacted at the same time.

What makes you think it was her? Luke asked. She was in Nags Head, and the story took place more than 100 years ago. How could that be? She wouldn’t be here. She would be up there. You were just having a dream about a good story. Luke didn’t like for Ellie to get worked up over nothing. He sometimes tried to protect her from herself. She was so intuitive that she could be a problem to herself. He was protective, and older, and no matter what Ellie’s powers were, he knew the energy was so strong that sometimes it might even be too much for her. He felt responsible for both her and Blake, and maybe he too was a little disappointed that she did not awaken them to go with her. Then he shook his head. He was so wrapped up in the story, he almost forgot it was a dream.

Theodosia Burr! Cool! was Blake’s response. He also had taken the dream seriously.

Well, what are you going to do about it? asked Luke. Are you gonna tell Grandpop?

I thought I would ask him some more questions about the story, but I’m not going to tell him about the dream. I don’t want Grandpop to think I would get out of bed on a stormy night, go to the barn and get Blue, and strike out toward the beach by myself. He would have to lock me in my room every night! Ellie giggled at the thought, and they all started laughing, a little too nervously, because they knew that it was just the kind of thing they all might do.

They heard Grandmom Odessa yelling upstairs for them to get down to the table. Grandpop was hungry. They hurried about, left Ellie to dress, and all rushed down the stairs like nothing strange had happened.

Come here, girl, let me tie up that wild hair of yours. It looks like a lion’s mane. Did you bring down the ribbons? Odessa was rushing around trying to placate her Charlie, so he wouldn’t get mad at the kids for keeping him from his breakfast. Grandmom was always walking a thin line between Grandpop and the kids, trying to make sure all his needs were met in a timely manner and keeping the children out of trouble. It was a dance she cherished, and to be sure, she didn’t get much help from her daughter Nett, the boys’ mother. Nett had already taken off to the village for some kind of community activity she and the other young girls in the village were cooking up for the church. So between servings, Odessa fussed with Ellie’s hair until it was contained in all that winding ribbon.

Buxton was teeming with things to do, especially if there was a minute to spare. All the young mothers were active in some way to create a fun life on the island. Many had husbands who had already enlisted and gone off to war like Bill, and they were trying to occupy themselves in order to stave off the worry that never seemed to leave them. Visiting friends was a popular pastime in all the villages. They were all civic minded, and meetings that encompassed more than one village were common—and fun, too. Nett knew everyone. She had taught school in Trent and Kinna-keet, as well as Buxton, and had played the piano at the movie theater in Hatteras. A young man named Alvey Midgett was her contemporary and a fantastic singer, so they were usually called on to help with planning weddings. It was not uncommon for Grandpop to take her to Chicamacomico to meet with Alvey, as cars were scarce. When these weddings took place, she would sometimes take Ellie, because Nett wanted her to experience pretty venues. The boys definitely did not want to go.

The young men were usually busy working in and around the sound, or maybe they were doing nothing, but they made sure they were not around to do women’s work. Fishing pound nets required constant mending. Boats needed to be built or repaired, and that drew a crowd as they were skills to be envied. Someone was always wanting help in whatever repair work was necessary to keep a house from being eaten up by the salt that came in on the sea air. Working on cars and trucks was an exercise they all enjoyed, for on this island, sand and salt ruined even the finest and strongest machinery, and if one did not know how to correct it, it could be an