Abraham Etheridge - 1. Chapter 1

Chicamacomico

Outer Banks, NC

Spring 1910

Abraham strolled along the edge of the surf, kicking water and laughing as the spray caught the sunbeams and glistened like fractured rainbows. He laughed and giggled when his toes kicked up the wet sand and impeded his forward movement. He was in no hurry and didn’t care about being covered in wet sand. He thought of himself as a child of the sea. He fancied that his father was Poseidon and his mother some lusty mermaid. It wasn’t that he thought of himself as a demi-god but rather as a child who needed the sea to survive. He was never quite comfortable walking on dirt; he needed the water between his toes.

His father would have said Abraham was lollygagging as he waded along the surf and kicked up sprays of water. His father, Adam, was prone to criticizing his youngest son. But, Abraham didn’t live with his parents anymore and didn’t have to listen to his father’s criticism. His father, the only lawyer on the island, always parsed language, and nobody ever quite met his linguistic heights. His mother was a meek housekeeper who always acted more like a servant than a spouse. His father preferred life that way. Adam’s sister, Pearl, was the bane of his life as she confronted his authoritarian behaviors by laughing at him. Laughing. His life was void of such frivolity. He was happiest when appearing in front of the judge or sitting in his pew at church and listening to Godly admonitions from the preacher. No one knew that Abraham’s father often wrote the sermons because he didn’t consider the preacher strict enough about what God said to His people.

Abraham’s two older brothers had left the island to attend college and had not returned. His father proudly extolled their success while secretly knowing they considered they had escaped his wrathful behaviors. Abraham was a change of life baby and didn’t know his brothers very well. He, like them, had also left his father’s house but he felt the need to stay close to the sea.

Abbie, as he was affectionally named, was the kitchen boy at the Chicamacomico Life Saving Station in Avon. He was definitely a Banker, as people on the North Carolina coast were called. He didn’t know that he spoke like a Hoi Toider, a dialect that was a remembrance of Elizabethan English that was left from the early settlers. There were few outsiders who settled on the island so the dialect had changed little in 300 years. He loved living on Hatteras Island, the northern part of the Outer Banks. In fact, he had never been off the island. The island was some sixty miles long so there was much to explore. He knew something of the larger world because his grandfather, Ezra, would get the newspaper out of Raleigh. After his gramps read the paper cover to cover, he would hand it over to Abbie, who devoured it. The newspaper came over on the mail boat out of Swan’s Quarter, which also brought provisions to the people in Buxton.

Buxton. He was glad to be out of that place. There were only three things people in Buxton knew to talk about. First was the weather. Like all Banker boys, Abbie had learned early how to read the sky and the ocean to know about the weather. His grandfather had taught him how to decipher the barometer and its constant, ever-changing readings. Abbie had been assigned to record the barometer pressure readings each day in a log book. Abbie learned to smell the air and note the wind’s direction. The smell of the air. He knew whether it smelt like rain, whether it smelt rotting marsh grasses, or whether it was fresh clean air off the ocean that would be used to prognosticate the day’s weather pattern. Abbie learned from his Aunt Pearl how to take in all the different bits of information and predict what the day would bring.

His Aunt Pearl was a roots worker in the village. Some would say she was part witch, but she would just smile and say she paid attention to things that other people ignored. Growing up, Abbie and Aunt Pearl would sit in the rocking chairs on the porch when she would talk about her visions and understandings of the natural world. Abbie memorized everything she said. He went to the local school and was the best student, but it was the learning of the natural world that was most intriguing to him.

People also talked about fishing. Fishing was their way of living and surviving. Everyone had a boat they put into the sound side for a day of fishing. Everyone, except his dad, Mr. Mike, who ran the post office and store, and Dr. Daniels. Everyone else seemed to be a fishman. Abbie had forgotten about Parson Highben. With a name like that, everyone knew he was from the mainland. There had never been any Highbens on the Banks. Abbie was an Etheridge and was related to the Meekins, Tilletts, Daniels, and Burruses. Abbie figured he was probably related to everyone on the island. If you couldn’t remember someone’s name, you just called them cousin. They would smile and then remind you of the family linkage. The downside was that it was a small community, and everyone knew everyone’s business.

The third thing people talked about was religion, or more specifically, Jesus. They all knew Jesus as if he lived next door and talked to him every day. They could tell you exactly what Jesus said and expected. Abbie wondered why Parson Highben was needed at the Methodist Church if everyone was already so familiar with Jesus and his expectations. On Sunday morning, everyone in the village was in church except for a worker at the lighthouse who kept constant vigil. The waters along the Banks were treacherous, and many a ship had gone down to the depths off the coast. If a ship was in peril, a bell would sound at the lifesaving station, and the men would run to the life-saving station to find out what was needed.

The house Abbie grew up in was filled with things from shipwrecks. All of the older people would tell tales about the worst of the shipwrecks. They were frightful stories. Abbie heard stories about the screams that would fill the night air as people were drowning. Boats would be sent out in the worst of the seas to save folks. Dawn would generally bring a placid sea and bodies that washed up along the shore. The bodies would be buried in the cemetery, often without names. Many were the crosses with just a death date.

But Abbie was free of that. He had taken the job in Avon to get away from Buxton. Sure, it was just a few miles north along the coast, but the lifesavers were a world unto themselves. Abbie was too young to be a lifesaver, though he aspired to be one when he became twenty-six.

The station was short a few men, and Abbie had volunteered to make the walk north toward the Pea Island Life Saving Station. Seven miles north and then seven miles south back to Chicamacomico. He would meet a man from the other station and exchange tokens to prove he had made the trek. This trek was done day and night, every day of the week. He was supposed to be looking out to sea for any ships in distress, but he was engrossed by the crab on a piece of driftwood. Abbie picked up the crab and tossed it back into the ocean. He laughed and skipped along. He didn’t have a care in the world.

Abbie stretched his strong back and plopped down in the surf. It was a hot spring day and he was sweating. The water cooled off his backside. Abbie liked the water rushing up the trouser legs and into his bottom. He would squirm in the sand and water. He would often get excited and need to take care of business before continuing his journey. He would take off his trousers, lie in the surf, and imagine that he was a merman making love to a Banker boy. Afterward, he would wash himself and his trousers, wring as much water as he could from them so it wouldn’t take long before the sun dried out his clothes.

Hopefully, Johnny would arrive from the Pea Island station for them to exchange tokens. Abbie liked Johnny, though he was a few years older. Abbie thought they were opposites, and he liked that. Abbie was toe-headed blond, with bright blue eyes, and considered himself short at 5’10”. He had a lithe runner’s frame with long legs with a short but strong torso. His body was covered with blond fuzzy hair bleached by the sun. He wore as few clothes as possible, and many a girl and a few boys had talked about how nice he looked. His skin was brown from being outside most of the time, however he was constantly pulling the burned, dead skin from his nose and ears after it had blistered. He sometimes hated his English skin. He wished that his family had intermarried with the Native American tribe that lived on the island and mainland. He admired their strong cheekbones, ramrod straight posture, coffee colored skin, and quiet ways. Abbie knew a few tribal youth who lived on the island, but his father would never let him spend much time with them. He loved being with his friend, Tauk, who was beautifully tall, with smooth skin, shimmering black hair, and eyes that were like fire when he was angry…or when he would blast out his ejaculation. Abbie especially admired Tauk’s broad chest that narrowed to a small waist. Abbie loved what was below Tauk’s waist even better. They had taken a boat out on the sound many times, and as soon as they were clear of shore, both would shuck their clothes and bask in the beauty of the other. Tauk also taught Abbie how to spearfish. Tauk used spearfishing as an excuse so his father would let him go off with Abbie. The tribal people did not trust the white man any more than the white man trusted the tribes. Now that Abbie was at the Life Saving Station, he could no longer see his friend. Abbie thought of him often when in the throes of ecstasy in his bed at night. But today, he had work and no time to fantasize about fishing with Tauk.

It was a hot day and splashing in the surf had not cooled him down, so Abbie dropped his trousers and swam due east toward Europe. He knew how far out to swim so that he could make it safely back to shore. He liked that he had a strong physique from swimming. His Aunt Pearl said he was like a dolphin and would never have to worry about drowning. That was a concern for many lifesavers as they launched their boats into the roiling sea. They might be good swimmers, but the Gods could play terrible tricks. Even the strongest men succumbed to the sea when Poseidon thought it was their time.

Abbie knew about Poseidon and Neptune and all the Roman and Greek Gods. He loved that both cultures had a panoply of Gods that connected to his view of the natural world. He had read both The Odyssey and The Iliad. He saw himself fighting on the plains of Troy and then sailing back home. Back home to what? It certainly was not to a wife and children. He always saw himself with a friend. Someone he loved and who loved him back. He didn’t care what his father or the Rev. Highben said. He also had conversations with Jesus. He told Jesus what was on his heart, and he never heard anything back other than love. He also talked to Poseidon and Neptune and would pretend that he could speak Greek and Latin.

When growing up, he learned Latin in school. Miss Jimmy, the school teacher, taught all the children a year of Latin. She couldn’t read Greek, so Abbie made up his own Greek words. They were nonsense to anyone else, but Abbie knew the vocabulary very well; especially late at night as he laid on a pallet in the attic. He would giggle when constructing words for man, handsome, tall, penis, ass, feet, chest, treasure trail, suck, ejaculation. He would say these words as if talking to a Greek lover. He even conjured a phrase to tell the older, stronger man he wanted to be taken. That he wanted and needed to be loved. He knew the Latin word amor and intuited there had to be a similar word in Greek. He decided that every language had a word for love.

He requested that Ms. Jimmie get a book on Advanced Latin. He devoured it when it arrived at the schoolhouse. Miss Jimmie told him nobody else would check it out and for him to keep it. He requested that more and more books be sent to their one-room schoolhouse. When the books arrived, it was like a holiday after school when he and Miss Jimmie would unpack the crates. The other students teased him about being a bookworm, but he didn’t care. He also loved reading about King Arthur. He could never read enough about England. He thought of the Knights and the camaraderie of men living and working together. After he read Robin Hood his penis was sore for a week after he constructed tales of the activities of the Merry Men living away from society. He wanted to live in England one day but acknowledged he was born a Banker and would probably die a Banker without ever going anywhere else.

Johnny had grown up in Rodanthe and was everything that Abbie was not. He had black hair, piercing green eyes, a hairy bull chest with a treasure trail that traveled south, skin the color of coffee and cream, was 6’2”, and was 27 years old. His grandfather had been rescued off a ship sailing from Italy that had encountered a storm, been blown off course, and was left as a wreck. Johnny’s teeth were the whitest that Abbie had ever seen. Johnny smiled a lot and laughed constantly. Abbie also had white teeth due to being in the sea so much. Abbie thought it a natural whitener. Abbie would blush and start stammering every time that Johnny spoke to him. Johnny was like an aphrodisiac, and Abbie couldn’t get enough.

Abbie jumped up from the surf and realized he was way behind schedule. Johnny would be angry. Abbie took off quickly as the afternoon sun was blazing in the sky. He saw Johnny and his breath caught in his throat. Johnny was swimming. In the nude. Abbie had never seen Johnny naked before. Johnny was like a god leaving the sea behind as he waded onto the hard-packed sand. Abbie realized he was excited in a way that Parson Highben said was a sin. Abbie tried to catch his breath but felt himself getting lightheaded. He stopped walking yet couldn’t take his eyes off Johnny. When Johnny bent over to put on his trousers, Abbie’s view of his hind parts was more than he could manage, and he found that he had erupted in his pants. He looked down and could see the spreading wetness. He jumped into the sea to wash all signs away.

Johnny saw Abbie and came running.

“You lazy slug. Where have you been? I went into the water to cool off while waiting.”

“Sorry.” Abbie could barely get that word out of his mouth.

“It’s all right. I was worried about you. I don’t want nothing to happen to my Abbie’s Irish Rose.”

Abbie blushed from head to toe.

They exchanged tokens, and before Abbie could turn to head south again, Johnny grabbed his arm and pulled him close. Not quite believing what was happening, Abbie felt Johnny’s mouth on his own. It was quick and efficient.

“I worry about you, Abbie. You are my favorite person in the whole world, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. You are prettier than any man on the island and most of the women.”

Again, Abbie blushed and then lowered his head. Johnny was turning to head north when he felt Abbie jump on his back. Johnny took off like a Banker pony that had not been tamed, running this way and that, snorting, and making whinnying sounds. Then Johnny stopped, pulled Abbie off his back and gave him a proper kiss.

“I like you, Johnny. I do.”

Abbie pulled Johnny to his chest and kissed him again. Then he took off running. South. Toward the Lifesaving Station. His laugh was echoed by the gulls that were moving on shore. Abbie then stopped and paid attention to nature. He realized that the wind had shifted. He smelled the air and knew that a storm was coming. Abbie moved his arms away from his body, leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and absorbed the natural messages around him. He knew that it was a huge storm and would arrive within hours. He regained focus and started a slow, seven-mile trot to the station. He knew the kitchen would be busy as he and the cook needed to prepare a hearty meal for the lifesavers in case they had to go out that night.

When Abbie arrived at the station, he was earlier than expected and went into the main room where the Superintendent and crew were discussing a possible storm. Abbie interjected and told them what he expected. They all stared at him because he hadn’t heard the earlier conversation.

“And how do you know this, Abbie,” asked the Superintendent.

“I paid attention on the way back to the station and realized that a big N’oreaster is on the way. It will probably be pretty bad as fast as it has come up. Probably the worst we have had this year.”

All of the men looked at Abbie and knew that people said he was a witch like his Aunt Pearl and could predict things that other people missed.

“Well, off to the kitchen with you then. We need to get the men fed. Also, we will want a big pot of coffee brewing because it could be a long night.”

Abbie handed off his token and ran to the cook house. It was built later than the station, and everyone was glad it was a separate building. Too many buildings had burned down from kitchen fires. With the wind blowing down the chimney, ashes would blow into a room and set it on fire. The cook said he was glad to see Abbie and told him what to start preparing. The cook prepared hearty, sensible meals for the men. Often, they would eat fish because of its ready abundance. Beef and pork were always pickled, dried, or salted. The cook would soak it to leach the salt from the meat, but even then, Johnny never cared much for it. After the hens stopped laying, they would appear on the table, having been fried in grease. The men thought that was the best meal they had. Abbie was basically a vegetarian, though he had never heard the term. His Aunt Pearl would eat eggs but never meat. She said that Mother Nature would not approve. Abbie would then tease her about Mother Nature and Father God. She would smile and tell him to pay attention to Father Sun, Sister Moon, and Mother Nature. He did and then became the second person who did not attend the Methodist Church on Sunday mornings. Pearl went because she said she was supposed to, but Abbie said he didn’t believe anymore and would not go. His father was furious and was only too happy when Abbie said he was heading north to the Life Saving Station. His father made a quip that the only Life Saving Station Abbie needed was Jesus. Abbie ignored him and knew that soon he would be living amongst men who might have a different view of the world.

The men in the station were busy checking their equipment. It was better to be over-prepared and nothing happened than to be caught up short. Many a fisherman had barely made it back to his dock when unprepared. They told harrowing stories of life on the water when a storm blew up in the sound. The fishermen were abundantly clear that even in the sound if you were not prepared for a storm, you might very well be on your way to talk to St. Peter. The graveyard at the church attested to that.

The cook was in a dither about preparing food that was hearty yet wouldn’t be a weight in the men’s stomachs if they had to go out. The garden had just been planted, so he found vegetables that had been canned the year before. He knew how to prepare the vegetables so they would be appetizing and able to provide energy. Abbie had a deft hand at baking so the cook had him make pans of biscuits. They would all be eaten. The cow provided milk for the station, and his mother taught Abbie how to make butter. The men loved the fresh butter with his biscuits. Aunt Pearl had sent up pints of fig preserves the prior fall when Abbie arrived, so they opened a jar. Abbie knew they wouldn’t have enough to last until September when more would be made, but this was a special occasion.

The talk at dinner was quiet and focused. The men were intense trying to figure out how to function on the rescue boat since they were short-handed. Abbie overheard the conversation and said he would help them.

“You are too young, boy.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You have to be twenty-six to be a Lifesaver, and how old do you think you are now?”

“I am eighteen but have lived by the sea my entire life. I can do the work of a twenty-six-year-old.”

“Now hold on, son. You are strong, but this is man’s work, and I don’t mean to offend you, but you are rather girlish. Hell, you are prettier than any girl on the island. I would hate to lose you….and your Aunt’s Pearl’s jam.”

The men laughed, so Abbie stuck out his bottom lip and pouted. He knew he was up to the task.

“Abbie, my boy. Let’s all say a prayer we are not called out tonight. It is not a job for the faint of heart. Many men quake in fear when they breach the bar heading into the sea. We can’t lose you, lad.”

“I want to do my part. I can do more than just help the cook.”

“Well,” the Superintendent said, “this discussion is meaningless because you are too young. I would lose my job if I sent you out in a boat. No matter that you are the best swimmer at the station.”

During their off times, the men would devise different activities to maintain their skills and have fun. They had all been surprised when Abbie won the swimming contest. Not just by a little, but by a lot. He was also the fastest runner among the lot of them. One of the men had made a garland from seaweed and put it around Abbie’s head when he won a race. Abbie felt like a Greek Olympian. All of the men came and kissed him on the cheek. That night he could not sleep because of his excitement of being kissed by the men. He liked it. A lot.

“Enough now. Let’s get some sleep. We will be on two-hour watches tonight instead of four. We all need to rest.”

The night was filled with howling winds and pounding rain. Many of the men were surprised when it continued the next morning. They had expected the storm to blow through and provide them with a beautiful day. Instead, they hunkered down at the breakfast table as Abbie brought in a pan of biscuits along with scrambled eggs, fried fish, bacon, and a pot of coffee. Abbie apologized and said just as he was taking the biscuits from the oven, a backdraft occurred, and the biscuits were covered with a fine ash. The men brushed the tops of the biscuits and didn’t complain. Since the cook and Abbie had arrived, the men were eating better than they had since the station opened.

All that day, the men sat in the large community room, playing checkers or cards. From a ship, they had confiscated a dart board and were learning this very British game. The hours were interminable as the wind howled and rain lashed the windows. Supper was a hot vegetable soup and Irish Soda bread. Abbie had taken the stale biscuits and made a bread-and-butter pudding they all dug into.

“I always like a bit of sweetness to finish my meal. That was right tasty. But a kiss from the baker would be the crowning glory.”

Abbie looked at Ralph and smirked. This was a familiar trope as the men would tease Abbie. Sure, it was lonely, and they were without women, but Abbie thought they were joking with him. Everyone laughed except Ralph.

“I mean it, Abbie. Come give me a kiss before I disappear into the watery depths tonight.”

Nobody ever talked like that. No own ever owned the thought of drowning in the sea. It was unheard of.

Abbie realized that Ralph was serious and walked over and kissed Ralph on the top of his head.

“No drowning tonight. Let us pray we have another night without a siren’s call.”

Ralph grabbed Abbie by the arm and pulled him around to face him. Ralph quickly kissed Abbie.

“A kiss for good luck then, lad.”

No one said a word.

“Well, I hope it is good luck then that we all get to sleep tonight.”

Abbie quickly gathered up the dishes. He was unnerved. The other men in the room were puzzled because they had never seen Ralph act that way. Abbie spent some time in the scullery washing the pots and pans so they would be ready in the morning. He then retired to bed. He thought of the kiss from Ralph and the kiss from Johnny. Two kisses in two days. Would he get a kiss on the third day?