Free Teetoncey and Ben O'Neal by Theodore Taylor Page B

found out she'd never thought much about them. It was dim but I showed her Job's Coffin; then Aldebaran and old Betelgeuse, or as Reuben says, "Ol' Beetlejuice."
    Then we went to bed but neither of us really slept soundly.

9
    I N THE MORNING , Kilbie and Frank came down to the house but kept out of sight, meeting Tee and me down at the dock. Checking back to see if Mama was prying around near the windows, we quickly loaded the boat on the pony cart, then got the buoys, probe, and line that they'd stashed away nearby. Tee had stealthily made some food the previous night and we stuck that on the seat, then got under way for Heron Head, Boo Dog padding along behind to continue his wooing of the castaway girl.
    Arriving at the beach, we were relieved to find that there wasn't a soul around. With the fine weather, no lifesaving patrols were out and it wasn't likely any would come along. Most of the traffic this time of year went inside on the trails along the sound. With luck, we could go about our work undisturbed.
    We unloaded the boat and carried it down to the beach opposite where Frank had driven the piece of driftwood into the sand. Then Kilbie scanned his sketch. It appeared we were in the correct position to reach his first
X
mark but the bar was still covered with water. Tide was ebbing fast but it would be another two hours before we launched.
    I was glad to see that there wasn't much surf. Maybe two feet rolling in gently from the Atlantic. It couldn't have been a better day, cloudless except for a few fluffs on the far horizon.
    With everything ready, we went up to sit on the bank and wait. We talked awhile about the sandbar and raising the chests but even that got boring. Then Frank, who had a mean streak in him at times, asked Teetoncey, "You ever heerd boys cuss?"
    She frowned a little. "I've heard our gardener's boy curse several times."
    Frank nodded to Kilbie to start it off. Kilbie said, "Tarnation."
    I said, "Hell."
    Frank said, "Hellfire."
    Kilbie said, "Damn."
    I said, "Double damn."
    Frank said, "Damnation."
    We looked at Teetoncey and she seemed to be disgusted, which is exactly what we'd hoped to achieve. She got up and walked a few paces, then turned swiftly and yelled, "Bloody bawstard."
    We three almost fell off the bank. We thought we knew what that last word meant but we'd never used it. Then she laughed as if she had chimes in her throat, which made it worse. That girl had a fouler mouth than I'd ever expected and should stay away from the gardener's boy. We didn't have much to do with her until it came time to eat.
    Boo Dog went over and sat down beside her since he was never easily offended.
    About one o'clock, when we could start to see the outline of the bar under the white froth on top, we got ready to launch. Thinking about what had happened at this very spot in early November, I asked Tee, "You sure you want to come out with us?"
    "Yes," she said, though she was beginning to be a little nervous.
    I got into the boat, sat down on the center thwart, and dropped the oars between the gunwale tholes. Water lapped at the bow. Then Tee got in; crawled around me to go to the bow. I said to Frank and Kilbie, "Shove on out."
    They pushed and we slid into the water and I heaved on the oars, riding up on the first swell. We went nicely, taking the second one without getting much water aboard. Heaving hard, I shot us on past the surf line and we were in deep water, headed for the shoal. I angled north to go around the far end of the bar, then drift down to about opposite our driftwood stake onshore.
    Frank said, "See how easy it is."
    Always cautious, Kilbie replied, "Don't speak too soon."
    I was busy on the oars and Tee remained silent; fearful, I'm sure, of stepping foot on that patch of sand that had doomed the
Empress
and her folks.
    In another few minutes, we were about on a line with the driftwood stake and Kilbie said, "Keep her steady, Ben," and then instructed Tee to heave the anchor up on the