Jake Parson Journal Entry

Jake Parson’s mother called it the magic hour: the moment when a day passes into evening, when the earth feels suspended before darkness and slumber. In the gold and reddening light, an easy southwest breeze propelled Jake’s thirty-five-foot sailboat through the Beaufort Inlet for the first time. His arrival was a week late due to a storm, followed by a shift in wind that kept him off shore. He longed to see his brother, Glenn, who was waiting for him in port. From studying his chart, he knew he’d just passed Fort Macon built on the thin ribbon of barrier islands that protected the mainland. The cry of a gull startled Jake and he tracked it through the dusky sky. It was the first land animal he'd seen in days. As he navigated through the
He could see Beaufort wasn’t a swanky port like Charleston, where grand houses and gardens were built right down to its sea wall. From first glance, Beaufort appeared to have the right mixture of working grit balanced with provincial propriety. Working trawlers and work boats rafted six deep behind the stores: all grimy, salty, and tough from years at sea. He heard the sounds of the crew on the boats as they shouted to each other at the end of the day. After he passed the row of stores, he steered his boat to come about and approached the public town dock. As the Jamison glided up to a platform, two small boys, one white and one Negro, emerged out of the pilings to catch his bow line. Once they secured the boat, Pilot trembling with anticipation as he wanted for Jake’s command. When he heard, “Off ship,” the Lab soared off the boat, landed on the dock, and raced to the shore. As Jake watched his dog roll on the sandy beach and run through the tall marsh grass, he felt like joining him. As much as he loved the sea, it was always wonderful to step on land. “Hey mister, you got a nice dog there,” said one of the boys. His voice resonated with the local dialect, a mix of southern accent and Hebrides brogue that drew out the vowels. “Thanks. I ‘ppreciate you helping me dock.” His voice sounded thick and slow from lack of
“Well, I might. What would it cost me?”
“Nickel for the evening,” said Marbles.
“Nickel each?”
“Nah, we’ll share it between us.” As if to emphasize his point, Marbles threw his arm around Tobias’ shoulder. The colored boy nodded his head vigorously.
“It’s a deal,” Jake said as they shook hands. The boys exchanged jubilant glances.
In a more somber tone, Jake added, “But just so you know, my dog knows his job. He will not want you to board my boat. He’ll feel like you’re taking his job away from him.”
The boys turned to study the dog, who was snapping at several small fiddler crabs. “No, sir,” answered Marbles. “We won’t mess with him.”
Jake bent over to pull the door on his cabin closed. “Maybe y’all could help me in another way.”
“How’s that?” “I’m looking for a boat called the Amelia.” “We know it.” “Know where it might be docked? Last I heard she might be at a boatyard called Lowell’s.” “She ain’t there now,” replied Tobias. “Everybody’s looking for it.” Jake looked up from the cabin. His eyes darted back and forth between the two boys and discerned they were being serious. His heart began to pound against his ribs. Hide. He’d learned to hide when he felt like this. Hide his feelings. Hide himself so people wouldn’t