Ghost Writers

by Tabitha12

By Mary and Amanda. The Ghost and Mrs Muir have started to write Daniel's Memoirs, but their collaberation is not going vey well. Can they work things out? Follows The Captain's Memoirs and preceeds From This Day On.

The characters from The Ghost and Mrs. Muir — Daniel Gregg, Carolyn, Candy and Jonathan Muir, Martha Grant, Scruffy, Claymore Gregg, Brad and Emily Williams, Reverend Farley, Mrs. Coburn, Ed Peavey, Jonah Applewhite, Deke Tuttle, Norrie Coolidge, Mark Finley, Miss Grover, Mrs. Jenkins, Ollie Wilkins, Mark Helmore, Danny Shoemaker, Miss Stoddard and Penelope Hassenhammer belong to 20th Century Fox, David Gerber productions, and/or Josephine Leslie (R.A. Dick). Lord Charles Dashire, Sean O' Casey, Molly O'Casey Adam Pierce, and Aunt Violet belong to Mary and Amanda.

No infringement is intended, no profit is made, and the characters will be returned unharmed from whence they came. This story is for enjoyment only. All characters, plots, story lines and development of GAMM characters belong to the authors, Mary and Amanda, and may not be used or changed without express written permission.

This story begins after Mary and Amanda's story "The Captain's Memoirs" and during the last canon episode of the Ghost and Mrs. Muir — the episode entitled, "Wedding Day????"Which takes place time-line-wise after Getting to Know You, and Dash's visit to Gull Cottage in Birthday Toast, but before Daniel sends his family away and Dashire and Claymore bring them back again in Amanda's story, From This Day On — The first tale written in the saga. Therefore, none of the Muirs have met Dash or Sean, and Daniel and Carolyn cannot touch. Special thanks to Chantal for her help with the French!

Ghost Writers

Mary and Amanda

March 14, 1970

Martha looked at the exquisite decorations in their private dining room at the Inn and sniffed. "It's just beautiful," she said softly, looking as if she was on the verge of tears.

"Why, Martha!" Carolyn exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," the housekeeper answered, dabbing at her eyes. "I always cry at wedding anniversaries."

"But, why?" Carolyn's father, Brad asked.

"Because she's a woman, naturally," Emily Williams smiled.

"But..." Her husband, Brad, looked puzzled. "You aren't crying, Emily, and neither is Carolyn."

"Just give us time, sweetheart," Emily smiled as the group sat down, and Brad, at the request of the children, launched into his favorite 'Double Petunia' story. Carolyn was at the far end of the table and laughing along with the others when Daniel Gregg appeared at her side and spoke softly.

"Madam, I must talk to you..."

"Not now, later..." Carolyn muttered out of the side of her mouth, wishing for the five-hundredth time that he wouldn't talk to her when she couldn't answer him. "Why are you here? Can anyone see or hear you?"

"Of course not. And later will be too late. Now, please. Excuse yourself and meet me outside."

"I... can't!" Carolyn whispered again, wondering at the urgent tone in the seaman's voice.

"If you don't, you'll be 'Mrs. Claymore Gregg' before you know it!" he retorted.

Carolyn gasped, and everyone turned toward her. Startled, the blonde rose and smiled awkwardly.

"Ex-excuse me..." she began. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Are you all right, dear?" Emily inquired. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No... nothing..." Carolyn inched her way toward the entryway. "I just have to... check something." As she hurried toward the door, the Captain walked through the wall.

Once outside, Carolyn looked up at the ghost impatiently, but he only looked back down at her gravely.

"Well, Captain, what is it? And what on earth do you mean? I'm going to be Mrs. ... WHO?"

"Your mother has arranged your wedding... to Captain Claymore," he answered, without preamble.

Carolyn gasped again, softly, and stared back at him. "Look, Captain Gregg, if this is your idea of a joke, it isn't very funny..."

The ghost pointed to the door across the hall. "Open that door, Madam. I'd do it myself, but I don't want to scare Reverend Farley out of his skin."

"He can't see you, can he?" She shook her head quickly. "Never mind. He can't. You said that, before. Reverend Farley? A wedding? I don't believe it!"

"It's true."

Peering in, Carolyn beheld a room set up very much like a wedding chapel and knew the spirit was speaking the truth. After a few words with the minister, who looked quite pleased with himself and her surprised reaction, Carolyn closed the door and stepped back into the hall.

"What on EARTH would lead my mother to do a thing like this?"

"She thought you and your clod of a captain were eloping, my dear. I feel sure she... and your father... didn't want to take the chance on... missing another wedding?"

"But, I don't want to marry Claymore! I don't plan on marrying anyone! Once was... Never mind! Blast and double blast!" She gave him a hopeless look. "I don't know why my parents would think I have ANY real romantic interest in you... I mean Claymore... the Captain... You know what I mean! Now, if it had been the REAL you they met, I could understand it, but..." She broke off, her face turning red.

"Believe me, Madam, if there was any way I could have impersonated myself, as it were, I would have," he answered back quietly. "But, how could I?" Carolyn nodded slowly as he continued speaking. "I was a man of enormous gallantry and charm..."

"Not to mention modesty," Carolyn interjected. "I almost wish you could..." She stopped speaking. If wishes were horses, Carolyn... her thoughts continued.

"If it were only possible!" The seaman answered. "It would certainly be easier than coaching Claymore to be like me. Three times I have tried, and he is no better at it than he was when we started. But, my dear, how could I shake hands with your father? Embrace your mother? I can see and be seen, but I cannot touch and be touched."

Carolyn gave the ghost an unhappy look. "I understand. But — what do we do now? I'm not marrying Claymore just to please my parents..."

"If you did, you would be widowed again before the day was through," Daniel grinned. "But... fear not. I THINK I may have a delightful solution to your problem."

"What? Tell them who you really are? Or were?"

"Hardly that."

"What, then?"

"I believe that there is a custom of couples reaffirming their vows, particularly on anniversaries? We simply convince your parents to do so. Have their second wedding in lieu of yours and — Claymore's."

"That's brilliant!" Carolyn gasped after a moment's thought.

"Naturally."

She let his egotistic remark slide without comment. "How did you think of it? I mean, you've made it clear you aren't a fan of the institution."

There was a pause, and then the Captain explained, "True, but I did have friends who were quite enamored of it, dear lady. One in particular eloped, but always maintained that someday, he would like to have a more conventional sort of ceremony." His face clouded. "He never did get that opportunity."

"How sad..." Carolyn said softly. "I really don't think eloping is a good start to a marriage in most cases..."

The seaman gave her a keen look. "I don't think so either." He stopped speaking then, but it was obvious to Carolyn that he was curious about what brought about Carolyn's statement, knowing she herself had eloped.

"So, do you think I can convince my mother I REALLY don't want to get married?" she continued hurriedly. "That I am not trying to pull something over on her? Or on Dad?"

"I think so. Actually, I believe your father would be vastly relieved. I don't think he likes me. I mean, Claymore."

Carolyn grinned up at him. "You and Claymore aren't really in the same league Captain." She shook her head. "I better go talk to Mom."

"Thank you for that, my dear, and the best of luck in your persuasion."

Carolyn raised an eyebrow. "I hope I won't need too much! My mother can be quite stubborn, but loving. And I know she really only wants what is best for me and the kids. But, I know what I want, and Claymore as a husband is definitely not it."

"I would certainly hope not!" the seaman exclaimed, and vanished.

XXX

It took even less time than Carolyn thought it would to convince her mother, and no time at ALL to convince her father that marriage was not on her mind at any time in the near future, and shortly after dinner, Brad and Emily Williams renewed their vows in front of God and their family and friends. Somehow, Carolyn was not at all surprised to see the Captain appear for the ceremony, but she WAS surprised to see that when he did materialize, that he was wearing his dress uniform — the original to the one Claymore wore for the Seafarer's Ball and, more importantly, the one that he was wearing the 'night' of her Ague dream what seemed like so long ago. As her father was saying "I do," Daniel leaned in toward her.

"You may now consider your "engagement" to Claymore permanently broken," he said, with satisfaction.

"Oh, I do, Captain," Carolyn smiled at him for a moment before turning her eyes back to where her parents were gazing at each other like a couple in the bloom of first love.

"I do... Carolyn," he answered softly, and she gave him a look of pleasant surprise. He shrugged slightly. "I just wanted to see how the words sounded... spoken on an occasion like this."

Carolyn?!

Blushing, Carolyn's eyes met the seaman's for a moment before turning toward her mother as she answered "I do," to Reverend Farley and her husband.

It was a moment that she didn't want to end, but it did, of course, and it wasn't terribly long after that she found herself on the porch with Claymore, who was handing her the box with the pearls the Captain had picked out earlier. After her nerdy landlord's touching speech and quiet departure, Carolyn turned and thanked the Captain for the extravagant gift. No matter how reformed Claymore might be feeling, she knew darned well he would never buy something so expensive without less than a gentle prodding.

"If I were alive, therewould be diamonds, emeralds, and palaces..." the seaman vowed.

Caught in the moment, Carolyn spoke her heart, "Captain, if you were alive, Gull Cottage would BE a palace." Time seemed to freeze, neither quite knowing what to say and then, blushing, she added, "You know, I should get inside before Dad comes out to run off my 'date'!"

The seaman pulled away from her.

"Aye. I best be going also. Your mother will be wondering what is keeping you, too. Besides, now that all this sentiment is over, maybe I can get back to organizing my papers... for our book."

Carolyn nodded slowly. "I suppose. Though I don't know how long Mom and Dad will be here..." her voice took on an uncertain tone.

Daniel's face clouded. "I hadn't thought of that, but it has been a while since you have seen each other. A few more days won't hurt, I suppose. And they aren't your cousin Harriet, after all."

"You aren't angry?" Carolyn stared at him, half surprised at his statement and half disappointed that their tender moment seemed to be over for the present.

"Angry? Of course not. I'm a bit disappointed that we can't get back to work immediately — and perhaps a tad anxious that no other paid work you may get will supersede our plans, but not angry."

"But, I want to get moving on the memoirs, too..." Carolyn insisted. "I can hardly wait to really get started. We didn't get very much done between Harriet's visit and my parents popping up out of the blue."

"Marvelous," Daniel rubbed his hands together. "Remind me to tell you about my voyage to New Zealand when I was..."

"Carolyn, honey!" Brad's voice could be heard from the foyer. "Has that man gone yet? Are you coming in? The kids want to know what we are all doing tomorrow!"

"Blast!" the Captain swore softly, and disappeared.

"Blast, indeed," Carolyn echoed quietly. "Coming, Dad!" she answered back, and headed toward the house.

March 21, 1970

It took great restraint for Captain Gregg not to ask Mrs. Muir that they get back to work on his memoirs the moment her parents were on their way back to Philadelphia seven days later, but he managed to hold himself in check. The Williams' had decided the day after their renewal of vows that a real vacation in Maine was in order. The kids were on Spring Break, it had been ages since the family had been together, and Carolyn's parents had never visited Maine at all, so they made a real visit out of it. Carolyn did manage to squeeze in time to finish an article that helped pay the bills, but working on his book was impossible. In fact, it was the lady herself who broached the subject the following Monday afternoon after her parent's departure and the children were back in school.

"Captain?" she called out, her eyes roving around the Master Cabin, wondering if he was there invisibly, or if she was alone.

Immediately, he popped into view, standing beside his telescope. "Yes, Madam?"

"I know our project has gotten a little sidetracked by — domestic issues," she replied, almost apologetically.

He shrugged. "These things happen." Daniel Gregg had resolved to try and be more patient with human matters, at least with those that related to the Muirs and he had realized while her parents were there that it was getting easier all the time. He had truly enjoyed watching 'his' family have fun with the Williams' — they really were exceptionally nice people, and he had almost wished he could have popped in and introduced himself, too.

"Yes, they do, but the work IS important. I don't want you to think that I don't understand that," she persisted. "I DO think so, and I want to get back to it, as soon as possible. I've even sent a book proposal to my agent, who sent it to a publisher, and he's already gotten word that they are impressed with it and will probably be willing to buy it. But, it has to get written first."

She did not miss the flash of pleasure and even surprise on the ghost's face. He recovered quickly. "Of course they are; the subject matter is fascinating — and you are quite a good writer."

"Modest, aren't we?" She grinned. "Thank you. I think you have made a fair statement, however. So, let's get cracking?" she prompted with a smile.

"I might have phrased it in a different manner, but yes, Madam, let's..."

"Cast off?" she inquired.

"That's closer to what I was thinking, yes."

"Then, let's do it," she smiled, saluting smartly as she did so.

He returned the gesture, and then, ever the gentleman, he gestured to her chair so that it pulled itself out for her.

"Thank you, kind sir," Carolyn nodded.

XXX

For the next two hours, time flew by. Carolyn almost wished she could just listen to the Captain's deep, expressive voice recount fabulous adventures without having to worry about keeping up with him on the typewriter.

"Do you need a break, my dear?" the ghost asked after a while. "I am aware of mortal flesh's limitations."

"Thank you, Captain," she smiled, rubbing the small of her back, pleased that he was learning to be considerate of such things. "A breather would be nice, but a working breather." She moved from her desk over to the leather couch, where she kicked off her shoes and leaned back a bit. "I'd like to ask you some questions," she continued, opening a small notepad she had brought with her from the desk. She clicked the top of her ballpoint pen and looked up at him expectantly.

"Your dedication is admirable, Mrs. Muir," he beamed in approval. "What would you like to know?"

"I noticed that we've started the story during the Mexican War, and while it's fascinating, we've completely ignored your formative years. What made you the man who became a hero?"

The seaman shifted. "Really, Madam... that would not be the best reading. My life really began when I went to sea. Before that, it was … I wouldn't say ordinary, I was never that, but very close."

"Maybe you should let me be the judge? After all, it might just be the familiarity of the story that makes it seem ordinary to you," Carolyn challenged.

Captain Gregg considered her words, and then shook his head. "It's my story; let me tell it my way, my dear. If there's not enough in my adult life to fill at least a whole book, we can always add the less exciting years."

"I don't agree," she shook her head. "I've read a great number of biographies and autobiographies, and there is always something about the person's childhood — at least from their point of view — you know... think about Profiles in Courage..."

"I am hardly President Kennedy, my dear, and he..."

"No, you aren't. You are MORE fascinating, than him, I think."

Mrs. Muir did not miss the slight flash of pure pleasure in Captain Gregg's eyes at her words.

"Well, I believe did say I had lived a man's life, but I was a man when I did it, not a boy," he both accepted the compliment and used it to form a counter-argument.

"Look, Captain, do you think that I'm a good influence on my children?" Carolyn asked.

"Of course! Has that loudmouthed father-in-law of yours started making noises about—?"

"No, it's not anything like that," she assured him. "Would you also say that YOU are a good influence on them? Or that Martha is?"

"I do hope so, for the first part," he replied with a modesty that indicated he was at his utmost sincere. "As to the second, absolutely."

"Then, you DO agree that childhood experiences are part of what shapes your later years, so an account of your life needs to touch on that aspect." She gave him a triumphant look. "Unless you sprang forth from your father's head, fully formed, like some mythic goddess."

"Very well, Madam," he grumbled after glaring at her for a moment. "And, would it not be at least a demigod, in my case?" This last was added under his breath.

"Good," she nodded. "So, we'll go back and pick up on your earliest memories?"

"No. We'll forge ahead and finish this section, and come back to that later."

"I really prefer to work in order..."

"But, it is too late to do that, now," he retorted. "After all, we're already discussing the Mexican War. To discuss my childhood, we will have to go backwards. Forward is a superior direction by far."

Carolyn sighed. "All right, but we will get that part in." Why won't he admit THAT when we are debating the virtues of modern society? she silently added.

"Eventually."

They resumed work, with Mrs. Muir continuing her redaction of Captain Gregg's time in the Navy during the War. His tone turned somber as he began mentioning deaths of friends, both during battle and due to fever.

"Hold on, Captain," she said, holding up one finger.

"Am I speaking too fast? Just let me know when you have caught up," the seaman said.

"No, it's not that," Carolyn shook her head, turning to look at him. "I notice you seemed a little more — affected by Andrew's death, and I wondered why."

"Ah, well, you see, he was rather a hero to Sean O'Casey and me as we grew up. He was an older lad, the first of us to go to sea. In fact, it was when he came home for a visit, full of tales and treasures, or at least in our young minds they seemed to be treasures, that Sean and I began to think about doing likewise." On that note, he began to explain how he had met Andrew Fremont, breaking off when he saw Carolyn putting her face in her hands.

"Madam? Were the war stories too — graphic? Blast. I should have thought of that; you are a gentle lady and I was wrong to trouble your ears with such violence," the Captain cursed himself.

Mrs. Muir shook her head. "No, you were not that graphic, and I'm a little bit stronger than all that. I just can't suddenly start telling about your childhood in the middle of a battle!"

"I thought you wanted to cover that era?" the ghost looked genuinely puzzled.

After counting to ten silently, Carolyn said, "Yes, I do. I believe it is important to getting the full picture of who you were — are — whichever. But, it's got to be in order. Readers will go batty if the story goes back and forth like that. No, forget the readers; the publisher would laugh me out of the office."

"I cannot help it if my mind went backwards when YOU asked about who Andrew was!"

"If we had gone in order to begin with, we wouldn't have this problem," Carolyn shot back in frustration. "I would have known who he was and not asked."

"Blast it!"

"Don't you swear at me," Carolyn snapped.

With visible effort, Captain Gregg calmed himself. "Perhaps we should take a break. We've been working at this for a good while and even ghosts can be subject to mental fatigue. I am sure that you are also feeling the strain."

She wanted to argue, for the sake of argument, if nothing else, but realized he was right. Despite the deadline she felt herself under now that the book had been pre-sold, pushing themselves would only hamper the effort. "You're right, Captain. We'll rest and get back to this later."

XXX

"Later" did not come that afternoon, much to Carolyn's frustration and the Captain's downright irritation. Mrs. Post called to see if Carolyn could fill in for Mrs. Jenkins on crosswalk duty at the grammar school, andCarolyn wasloath to turn her down — the women in town were finally starting to NOT treat her as the "woman who lived in the haunted house" and more like a member of the community... How could she say no? No sooner had she put away her sign and whistle did Claymore pull up, saying that he, Jonah, Deke, Norrie, Mark Finley and Miss Grover, of all people, were holding a special meeting of the town council to work on spring activities, and they wanted her there as acting secretary and to take notes for an article in the Schooner Bay Beacon, which, Claymore said, Mark told him to tell her, he would pay Carolyn something for doing. She looked up in the sky for signs of a Captain-caused downpour and when nothing happened, she sighed and nodded her head.

When Carolyn finally arrived at home, Martha met her at the door. "He's not happy. There hasn't been a thunderstorm, but he's been pacing for the last half-hour." She shook her head. "I don't know how a ghost can make so much noise walking on the floor! Aren't they supposed to be a little more light on their feet?"

Carolyn rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "He's going to get even MORE upset. I need to type up my notes for the story on town council meeting while they are still fresh in my head. Mark needs it first thing tomorrow morning before the paper gets put to bed, and I'm sure the kids have homework..."

"Maybe HE could help them with that?" Martha suggested. "He's always calm around the kids, and it'd get you back to work on his book sooner."

"We could give it a try, I suppose," Carolyn shrugged. "As long as the kids don't need any assistance with new math — I barely understand that! Just good old fractions. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask him, unless he still considers it babysitting... and do you think he will be calm around them when he would be rather be working on the memoirs?"

Martha considered and then nodded. "I do. Even though I haven't known him as long as you have, Mrs. Muir, but the Captain's always seemed very gentle with Jonathan and Candy. Besides, asking for his help implies that you think he CAN help, and that'll be good for his ego, not that he needs it, but it can't hurt."

"What was that about my ego, Martha?" the Captain asked, appearing with no warning at all. "Ah, Mrs. Muir — you are home at last! Now we can get back to work. While you were gone, I remembered two stories that absolutely have to go in... I know I have told them to you and your family in the past, but I did think of a few more details I may have omitted in my earlier telling. There was the time I tore up the tattoo parlor, and..."

"Nothing at all," Martha muttered. Under her breath, she whispered, "Good luck," to her employer.

With a thin smile, Carolyn turned to face the ghost.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to wait just a little bit longer, but not much, Captain. I have to type up my story for the newspaper first. It IS a paying, immediately paying, that is, article and is due tomorrow. And, there's the kids' homework to help with. Your... that is... our book is very important to me. I don't want you to think it's not, but... some things just can't be helped. I don't suppose, would you consider it too much like nurse maid duty to give Candy and Jonathan a little help with their assignments? Just look them over? That way, all I'd need to do is the piece for the Beacon."

The ghost heaved a sigh. "I suppose. I was on something of a roll myself, but..." He shrugged. "As you said, sometimes, good things have to wait. Maybe later this evening?"

Carolyn nodded. "If I can get everything else done, and I am not too tired, yes."

XXX

The remainder of the afternoon flew by as Carolyn plugged away on the article for Mark Finley, Martha prepared supper, and the children tackled their schoolwork with the seaman's spirit hovering nearby to help if needed. To his surprise, Daniel found that he rather enjoyed the duty. Candy and Jonathan were both bright young people and did not complain too much about having homework. When he checked it over, the Captain actually found the Social Studies assignment interesting.

After a light supper, Mrs. Muir was ready to resume the memoirs. The pair managed to get through what amounted to a whole chapter without one argument, and then it was time to tuck the kids in. When that was done, they returned to the book, but Daniel could see that the lady was feeling the effects of an exceptionally busy day, so he suggested that she turn in, and for once, Carolyn did not act contrarily.

March 22, 1970

As he kept watch throughout the long night, Daniel's mind kept going over the events of his life, sifting and sorting them. He mulled over what to tell Carolyn and what to keep to himself. He certainly could not mention Molly; she was Sean's secret, and since his first mate had not been around in about a decade, Daniel could not ask for his permission to share that aspect of his life. He rubbed his chin, thinking about old friends. Molly O'Casey was the only woman he had ever been able to consider just a friend, at least until Carolyn Muir, Martha Grant, and Candy Muir had entered his afterlife. True, Candy was just a child, but she would grow up — and as to her mother — He would gladly romance her, but could see no way for that dream to become reality.

Daniel forced his mind back onto a more productive track. Thanks to long years of discipline, though it was not easy, he could do so. Dozens of long untold stories flooded his thoughts. He could hardly wait until daybreak. The moment the sky began to lighten, he popped back into the Master Cabin, eager to get promptly to work.

Carolyn was still asleep, so he just watched her for several minutes, but as much as the Captain enjoyed the sight, his impatience did not allow him to savor it. Finally, he cleared his throat. She slumbered on.

"Mrs. Muir? Madam?" She sighed, and then snuggled more deeply into the pillow. "Blast it, Madam, wake up," he grumbled. She showed no signs of obeying. Finally, the Captain wiggled a finger at the alarm clock, overriding its settings so that it began to blare at his command.

Carolyn sat up in shock. Glancing at the clock, she blinked, and then looked again. "I did not set that thing for five-thirteen in the blasted morning!"

"Really, Madam! Your language!"

"I can use any language I want to when I have just been awakened at five a.m.!"

"Tisn't five, it's five-fifteen."

"Five — THIRTEEN!"

"So, make me a liar for two minutes."

"Captain, my alarm was set for six-thirty!"

"So?"

"It's too blasted early to be up!"

"Nonsense. Remember the old saying: 'Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise...' Ben Franklin, I believe?"

"Yes, but I wasn't in bed early, so I don't have to get up early... this early anyway!"

"But, rising before your usual time means we also get a good start on my memoirs."

"Captain, I haven't even had my coffee yet!"

"I put it on ten minutes ago."

Carolyn rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Captain Gregg, I still have to get the kids up and drive them in today. I also need to get typing paper and another ribbon or two. I was typing on fumes last night. The hardware store won't be open until eight-thirty, and I refuse to..."

"Yes?"

"Argue any more with you when I am standing here in my nightgown, and before I have had my coffee!" She blushed.

Suddenly, the Captain was all too aware of her state of dress. Meeting her gaze with an appreciative look, he bowed slightly. "I will adjourn so that you may remedy the situation."

"Fine. I'll see you in an hour. I'm getting back in that bed and if you know what is good for you..."

"But you're awake now."

"No, I'm... Yes I am. Blast."

Unable to resist, the Captain allowed amusement to show on his countenance as he lifted one brow and with his eyes twinkling asked, "Do I take that to mean you are up for the day?"

"For the day. But I am not promising how late I will be up tonight... Or if I will need a nap later. Now kindly... decompose... while I get dressed..." She yawned.

"That's dematerialize, my dear," he answered, somewhat impatiently. "How many times..."

"I'm still too tired to remember that. Don't start, Captain, it's early, yet. If I had been allowed to sleep later..."

"You would have wasted half the day... I believe I will go wake the children. Get them started."

"Captain Gregg, school STILL doesn't start until eight-fifteen."

"I see. Of course. Then I will go down and assist Martha. SHE'S awake."

"Barely." Carolyn pointed out, just before the spirit vanished.

Fifteen minutes later, Carolyn stumbled into the kitchen, still feeling as if her brain had been wrapped in cotton balls.

Martha looked up. "I really didn't believe it when he said you were out of bed."

"I don't believe it either, and it wasn't my idea," Carolyn grumbled. "The Captain woke me up." Martha lifted an eyebrow. "Don't give me that look. He didn't lay one ghostly finger on me. He can't. He just set my alarm forward an hour. I wasn't expecting it, and it... blasted me awake."

Martha shook her head. "Well, he'd be a fine face to wake up to, but at the proper time would be better. To think you weren't sure he'd want to write his memoirs! I'd say he's very enthusiastic."

"I think he is a little too enthused. I don't know if I am up to this, Martha..."

This time, both of the older woman's brows went up. "That's not like you, Mrs. Muir."

"Thanks, but I think you have more faith in me than I do myself at the moment."

"What's the problem? Writer's block, already? You can't have writer's block. Right now you just have to listen and write while the Captain tells his stories. There must be at least a dozen that you want to hear, and..."

"That's not the problem!" Carolyn stopped speaking for a moment and looked around. "Where is he, anyway?"

"He remembered some papers he wanted for the project that should be in the attic," Martha replied. "And you know what a nightmare that place is."

Carolyn shook her head. "I do, indeed. He has made an attempt of late to keep it clean, though When we meet on Tuesday afternoons for Madeira I don't come back downstairs with dust bunnies clinging to me anymore. Still, some day it would be nice to get it really cleaned up. Maybe if we DID, he would find half the stuff he has accused Claymore of making off with over the years. But, now isn't the time. I'm not even sure when it will be. I'm afraid his memoirs are going to be more of a project than I thought."

"You said that. What's the trouble, anyway?"

"Well, to begin with..."

"Hi, Mom!" called Candy from the kitchen doorway. "What are you doing up so soon?"

Carolyn brushed a strand of hair off her face as she turned to face her daughter. "Oh, just seemed like a good idea to... get an early start on the day."

"You haven't been up this early since you worked for Mr. Finley — so you must be in a hurry to get back to the Captain and his book," Jonathan observed, coming in behind his sister. "I know I would be. It'd be lots more fun to stay home and listen to him tell his stories all day! School isn't that interesting this week. Can I stay home and help you?"

"No you MAY not, sweetie," Carolyn chuckled in spite of herself. "School. I'm taking you today. Now, sit down and eat some breakfast."

"You need to eat, too, since you are up so early," Candy observed. "If you don't, you'll get grumpy. I am, when I don't eat enough."

"Toast and coffee will be fine," Carolyn assured her.

"The lass is right," Daniel Gregg announced, materializing in the kitchen. "How can we expect to get a full day's work in if you don't have something substantial in your stomach? That sad-faced sea lion, Claymore, was the same way, until I set him straight a while back! He..."

"Captain..." Carolyn warned.

"Yes?"

"Since when has not eating breakfast kept me from writing?"

That stopped him. As the ghost searched his mind for an answer, Carolyn smugly pressed her advantage. "What's more, I am NOT Claymore."

"That, my dear lady, is quite obvious," the ghost gave her a soft smile, "and for that fact, I am deeply grateful."

No one said anything for a moment, but finally, Carolyn pulled her green eyes away from his azure ones.

"Would... would you like some coffee, Captain?" Carolyn said finally.

"Yeah, and you can sit down, too," Jonathan added. "Martha says only hooligans stand at a table and eat. Here's a place next to Mom."

"I believe I will join you for a bit," the ghost smiled. "Since it seems we can't get to work just yet."

He took a seat, intending just to enjoy the family's company, so he was surprised when Martha actually set a cup of coffee before him. "Cream? Sugar?" she asked.

Daniel started to tell her he couldn't drink it, but remembered he did drink tea once with her one night when the rest of the family was out of town. Also, he did partake of Madeira, so it was logical that he could also enjoy coffee. So, he nodded his head and thanked her. "Black is my preference," he finished.

"Thought it would be," the older woman nodded back.

"This is nice, all of us eating breakfast together, at least kinda," Candy put in. "Mom doesn't eat much, so you and she can... NOT eat while we DO eat," she went on, taking a huge bite of egg and toast.

"So, what stories are you telling today, Captain?" Jonathan asked. "Remember, you said you would save some good ones to tell for when we can listen, too, if we are quiet."

"Some you know," Daniel Gregg started. "Like the time I saved the people on board that ship going down inMadagascar... along with the ship's cat and her kittens..."

"Seven of them," Candy put in.

"Yes, and I was also hoping to get to the time when I was made an honorary cannibal in a..."

"Hey! You haven't told us that one!" Candy blurted out. "Don't tell that one today! Wait for us!"

Daniel shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Remember? Your mother and I mentioned that this could happen. I'll just have to tell you some other time."

"Blast!" the two children exclaimed together.

"Mom, really, this is way more educational than Miss Stoddard's class," Candy wheedled. "I mean, the Captain never gets history wrong, but the schools do! Even about the school itself!"

Somehow, the ghost managed to look both inordinately pleased and slightly abashed.

"We still have to go by the official story, most of the time," Carolyn said firmly. "So, you need to learn that, as well as math, English, and other things that you'll need in later years."

"And, my dears, I never tire of telling you my adventures," Captain Gregg smiled. "I can relate them to your mother and still be glad to recount more of them to you at a more appropriate time." Fingering one ear, he added, "You might even come to be bored with hearing them as you get older."

"Nuh-uh!" they chorused.

"Agreed, but you need to hurry up and finish," Carolyn said. "Mr. Finley wants my article early and then the Captain's got a full day planned for me, I think."

A short time later, the blonde trio left.

XXX

After dropping the kids off, Carolyn headed to the Beacon office. She waited quietly while Mark read over her piece, making small "hmming" noises as he did so.

"Great work, great work," he nodded finally as he looked up. Absently, he set his Newton's cradle into motion, causing the balls to click together. "Now, for next week, I need you to go to Skeldale and interview a Mr. Malcom Carswell. He's in charge of the wooden boat sail-in there in a few weeks."

"Skeldale?" Carolyn blinked.

"Yes. It's the larger town just up the road. If anyone in Schooner Bay needs to go to the hospital, that's where they are sent."

"I know where it is. I've been shopping there, but why are we doing news about Skeldale? This is the Schooner Bay Beacon, right?" she protested.

"True, true, but what sells papers is ads. I'm hoping that if we expand our range, we can expand our bottom line," Mark explained, clicking the Newton's cradle again for emphasis. "Of course, if you don't want the assignment, I can always pay someone else to do it..."

Such as who? Carolyn thought. She really didn't want to make an out of town trip right now, but money was money. "I'll do it," she sighed, looking at her watch and taking a deep breath. I'll have to phone Gull Cottage... Things are certainly easier now that Martha knows about Captain Gregg. I'll simply have to call and ask her to let the Captain know that our plans will have to be postponed... again. But I can't do it from here. The library has a public telephone — one still in a closed booth. I can do it from there. With a little luck, he won't be too upset — or at least be understanding about the whole thing. And he wouldn't DARE "blast" at Martha. She turned back to Mark. "Will that be the only thing you need from me this week?"

"I think so," the little editor replied absently. "Were you interested in more? I kinda got the impression after you quit..."

"I didn't quit; you fired me."

"Whatever. That you weren't interested in the very generous offer I made for you to come back and work for me."

"I'm not. But I am here now, and stringing suits my needs better. I don't mind an assignment... and the compensation, now and again. I just want more notice next time."

"I gave you warning, didn't I?" he retorted. "The story's for next week's edition."

"But, the interview has to be done today. That's no warning at all, and I had other plans, really. You are lucky I can change them, Mark."

"Other plans? You aren't stringing for another paper, are you?"

"No, but even if I was, we don't have an exclusive contract, remember? I can work when and where I want."

"I suppose not, but a little common courtesy and respect between journalists is expected..."

"Like you gave me? Throwing this assignment at me at the last minute?"

"I'm the editor. Things happen."

"This is the last time you pull this, Mark," Carolyn answered, and he could tell the blonde meant what she said.

"Very well, Miz Muir," he muttered. "Very well. See you in about an hour-and-a-half then?"

"Closer to three, by the time I drive there, interview Mr. Carswell and drive home. And you ARE paying my mileage."

Mark Finley nodded his head in reluctant acceptance. "I think I liked you better when you worked for me... Here in the office, I mean."

"I didn't. Goodbye, Mark." Carolyn edged toward the door.

Once outside, she headed toward the Schooner Bay Library where she stepped into the phone booth and pulled the door shut behind her. Silently, Carolyn thanked Emily Williams who had always insisted her daughter carry at least one dime in her purse, just in case she needed a phone, as she dialed home.

"Martha, it's me. Would you tell the Captain that I'll be a little delayed? Mark needs me to drive to Skeldale for an interview... I know, I know, but it can't be helped. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Before she could hang up the phone, Daniel Gregg's head — and only his head — appeared in front of her... Coming straight through the wall!

"What do you mean, you are delayed? You aren't coming home? What does that squiggly sea urchin want you to do now?"

Carolyn jumped, nearly upsetting her purse. "WHAT are you doing here? Here! In front of everyone? Well, at least the rest of you…"

Despite his annoyance, the spirit looked amused, if only slightly. "Madam, how many times must I remind you, I can be neither seen nor heard by anyone I do not wish to perceive me?"

"But I see your head... Nobody else can see your body?" she hissed. "Blast it, Captain! You look like the mounted elk head on the wall at their lodge up the street!"

"I could materialize the rest of myself in here, but I fear it would be crowded... even for a specter such as myself," he grinned. "And, there's not enough room to float on the ceiling... and I really don't think I should sit on your lap, and you can't sit on mine."

"I don't think so..." she blushed hotly.

Daniel suddenly gave her a piercing look. "You are changing the subject! I heard you tell Martha you are going to Skeldale?"

"I didn't plan to," she defended herself. "But, Mark had this assignment for me and it's got a deadline, so I really don't have a choice."

"He's not your boss, blast it. Don't think I don't remember how he ran you ragged for two weeks! I thought you didn't want to work for him?"

Carolyn sighed. "I don't. But, I do want to build a portfolio so I can get credibility, and there's always a bill to be paid. Now, Captain, if I don't want people to think I'm going to do my best — Diana Prince — imitation and change into a super-hero, I need to exit this booth. People can see into it through the window and observe me talking to myself."

"I told you. They can't see me."

"But they can see ME talking to no one," she answered, still speaking into the receiver, even though Martha had already hung up. "Look, I really don't want the Schooner Bayites going back to the idea of me being a little off in the head. Deke still asks me if I need any more books about vultures."

"I see..." His head nodded slowly, and refrained from pointing out Deke would have no cause to question her if she hadn't been intent on snooping. "When will you be home?"

"I don't possibly see how I can be back before one o'clock."

Face aghast, Daniel glared for a second and then nodded, popping out as he tersely announced, "Blast!"

I quite agree," Carolyn muttered.

"I have it!" The spirit announced, and grinned broadly as he reappeared. "I'll come with you to Skeldale. I can tell you a tale or two while you drive."

"I can't drive and concentrate on listening to you," Carolyn argued. "Let alone, take notes."

"You have a point..."

"Captain, I need to go..."

The seaman's head disappeared for a moment and then reappeared.

"You're right. Deke Tuttle is looking this way."

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "Captain, I will see you at home. Soon. Go... go home to Gull Cottage. Read through your logs again. Work on your sea charts. I'll be back."

"And ready for a good afternoon's work?"

"Yes, providing..."

"...Providing no more delays. Yes, Madam."

The 'talking head' disappeared once more, and after waiting a few more moments, Carolyn hung up the telephone receiver and exited the booth.

"Ya finish your... call, Mrs. Muir?" Deke Tuttle peered in the phone booth as she exited it.

"Yes," Carolyn nodded. "Why do you ask?"

"Seemed like you had a lot to say, that's all," Deke shrugged. "But then, folks seem to like that booth. I was thinkin' about takin' it out and putting in something more modern. Maybe try to sell this old one."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," Carolyn smiled. "I think people like being able to make a phone call without anyone else listening in," she added, gently, but pointedly, and hoped Deke would get the idea.

"Suppose you're right..." the old man nodded. "Anything else I can do for you today?"

Carolyn shook her head. "I don't think so. I need to get going, Deke, if you'll excuse me..." With a nod, she was on her way out the door.

XXX

When she had the interview completed, Carolyn realized that her toast had worn off and she needed a bite to eat, so she stepped into Woolworth's. She could grab a fast sandwich at their lunch counter and be on her way home in short order. As she ate hurriedly, she considered the situation. This whole thing was simply not going well. They'd never get done if things kept happening such as had gone on for the last two days. It was a shame she didn't own a Dictaphone. The Captain could just tell his stories into that and then she could work from the tape.

Tape...

When the clerk handed her the check, Carolyn impulsively asked, "Do you know if they sell tape recorders here?"

"Yes, Ma'am." The clerk nodded. "We just got a new batch in, too. New brand. They are a tad smaller than the old ones, but seem to work just as well."

"Do you have any idea how much they cost?"

The young man shrugged. "It's not my department, so I dunno, but long's they haven't sold out, you can go look, Ma'am. They're on aisle eight." He turned to point out the right direction.

"Thanks," Carolyn nodded and headed that way.

When she reached where the clerk had directed her to, a selection of electronics confronted Mrs. Muir. There were transistor radios, like the one Blair Thompson had given Candy a while back, clock radios, cameras, huge reel-to-reel tape recorders, and finally, the cassette players she was searching for. However, when Carolyn leaned in closer to peer at the price tag, her grand plan crashed. There was no way that would fit in the budget, unless she got so many other assignments that there was no time to work on the book. Talk about a Catch-22!

Discouraged, but not willing to give up, she continued to look over the shelves, hoping maybe there was another brand, one that was a little cheaper. The only other option cost ten dollars more. True, it had added features, but she wasn't at all sure what they meant. Her eyes roved over to the reel-to-reel variety. It was still too expensive, and besides, she might have to pay to get something that large delivered.

After a last glance, Carolyn abandoned her idea and exited the store. It was time to get back to work. It was one-thirty when she arrived at Gull Cottage. The Captain met her at the door. "You're half-an-hour late."

"I got tied up in Skeldale," she defended herself. "But, I'm here now, so we can start writing again." When it looked as if he might continue to rant, she added, "Or we can stand here and argue."

Frowning, the ghost nodded. "You have a point, a very logical one, but you were still late."

Carolyn considered fighting back, but decided it was just not worth the waste of time that would be. "You are right. I'm sorry. Let's try to make up the lost minutes."

Surprised at winning so easily, the seaman gave her a sharp look, then said, "Perhaps I was a bit harsh, but I am anxious to get underway, and the delays are chaffing."

"Then, let us delay no more," Carolyn smiled. Truth be told, she had felt a little guilty about taking the extra moments to price the gizmo she had ended up not buying, so she had needed to apologize for her own peace of mind.

Just as they started for the stairs, the Captain actually walking with her, not popping ahead, Martha stopped them.

"Oh, Mrs. Muir..."

"BLAST IT! Now what?" the ghost shouted, and outside, thunder boomed.

"Hey!" Martha cried, "You be nice, Captain! I have a cake in the oven!" The housekeeper crossed her arms over her chest. "Nobody blasts at me, not even you! I don't care if you are a ghost!"

The spirit was immediately chastised. "I do beg your pardon, Martha. I'm just impatient to get underway and manage a few hours' work before the children get home."

"Forgiven, this time," Martha winked. "Goodness. I thought ONE writer could be mercurial with her moods... I don't know if I can take two!"

"Maybe just for a while," Carolyn answered with a wink of her own. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Have you had lunch? It's later than you usually eat..."

"I stopped at Woolworth's for a quick bite," Carolyn smiled fondly at the other woman's motherliness.

"What about coffee, then? I can make a pot."

"That would be lovely, Martha."

"And you, Captain? Will you share coffee with Mrs. Muir, or should I put the teakettle on for you?" She shook her head. "On second thought, you are antsy enough already without adding any caffeine. Maybe I should make you some warm milk, instead."

The seaman made a face. "Absolutely not. I hated warm milk when I was alive and refuse to subject myself to it now. However, I do thank you, Martha."

"Coffee, then? I can bring up two cups — and some of the cookies I made yesterday."

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her it wasn't a blasted tea party, but the Captain stopped himself from saying anything. After all, he could not enjoy the cookies, but Mrs. Muir might be inclined to want one. A stray thought flitted across his mind. He had watched Dash snitch at least a half-a-dozen cookies during his brief, secret visit on his birthday the year before. Fortunately, Martha had not noticed how much lower the cookie jar's supply had been, but it did make Daniel wonder if he could manage one. They always smelled like ambrosia, especially to a man who had not eaten in over a century.

"I think that sounds delightful, Martha," he answered finally. "Thank you. I cannot promise that I can actually ingest them, but they always look and smell wonderful." He turned to Carolyn. "Shall we go, my dear? I did think of a number of other tales for the book... I jotted down some notes..."

Carolyn nodded. "You need to complete where we stopped yesterday, first," she said finally, as they started up the stairs. "I really do want to make sure we have finished covering your childhood. I thought of some other questions for you, too," she continued as they excused themselves and headed for the second floor.

"I will endeavor to answer them to the best of my ability, Madam," he promised.

"Really?" she asked as she sat down on the leather couch in the Master Cabin. "I got the impression you weren't that eager to talk about it."

"I had some time to think while you were gone, and I must agree, a little more background is in order. Now, what would you like to know that we didn't talk about yesterday evening?"

This opportunity was too good to miss, so she replied simply and sincerely, "Absolutely everything you are willing to tell. Start at the beginning."

XXX

He did not start quite at the very beginning, opting instead to begin with how he came to live with his Aunt Violet. For an hour or so, Carolyn listened to the Captain recall his boyhood; the death of his mother in childbirth and his father in an accident at sea two years later. Then, he spoke of his friend, Sean O'Casey, and again, how they had looked up to Andrew Fremont. It was he who had inspired them to head to the sea shortly after Violet's death. Some familiar names came up as he spoke, surnames, anyway. It was fascinating to hear about the ancestors of people she now knew.

"What did Vanessa's family do?" slipped out during a pause, before Carolyn could stop herself from asking. "You haven't mentioned the Hamiltons."

The ghost's brows lifted. "They did not move to Schooner Bay until much later. I believe they might have lived up the coast, in Cabot Cove, until Vanessa was in her mid-teens."

"Oh." Carolyn felt her cheeks color and hoped that the Captain had not noticed.

"We'll get to her, eventually," he promised.

No rush, she thought.

"Now, where were we? Ah, yes, Andrew Fremont..." However, instead of picking back up on his youth, the Captain began talking about the Mexican War.

Biting her lip, Carolyn refrained from screaming and trying to get him back on track, if only barely.

Daniel had a habit of walking around the room while he spoke. As he came to stand by the fireplace, he noticed a photo of Jonathan shaking Mr. Rutlege Adams' hand after presenting his winning essay. The ghost smiled. True, he had been forced to fake a lapse of memory, but the boy's joy over his win had been compensation. Without planning it, he began to talk about how he had met Temple Franklin, something that had taken place some time after the Mexican War.

Now, Carolyn did have to protest.

"Captain!"

"Yes, Mrs. Muir?"

"Ten minutes ago, we were discussing your youth in Schooner Bay and then you jumped ahead and were in Mexico, now, we've gone even more years in the future and you're meeting Ben Franklin's grandson. We can't just flit around in time like — like a mad scientist in a novel. I simply must have some sort of outline…"

"Hummph. Life is not lived in order... according to some set of rules, Madam."

"I didn't say you had to LIVE your life in order, I just think we need some sort of a... a master plan for..." Although, she was fairly sure that most people did go through life in order!

"Master plan? Life has no master plan. If it did, I wouldn't have planned to kick the blasted gas heater with my foot..."

"No kidding!"

"Outlines are for English class. I remember my lessons, and heaven knows I have watched Candy struggle over Miss Stoddard's idea of creativity!"

"Captain, I don't mean a formal outline... Capital One, Capital A subheading one, two, three, and so on... Just a one or two word plan of items you hope to include in..."

"An outline isn't necessary. I have a perfect memory."

"I know... elephants and ghosts never forget, but I... Look, how long have you known me?"

"Two years, September twenty-first."

"And how long have you been watching me write?"

"The same amount of time... Maybe a hair less..."

"Captain Gregg, when I write, I always outline! Even when I know where I am going, I outline! If I don't, I get lost. It's just a map — surely YOU understand the need for a map — really, it helps me keep me organized..."

"But this is MY book, and I am perfectly organized! It's this household that isn't!"

"I can't help it if outside life swirls on around us while you are re-living your past! I am writing it — at least it is my name that will appear on the cover, and besides, I might even have a few good ideas!"

"It's not..."

"Order! That's why I want to outline! I don't want to jump willy-nilly all over the place! One minute you are in Mexico which reminds you of something else, and then you go back to telling me about Sean and you when you were children! Daniel, my head doesn't work that way!"

"Madam, I cannot help how your mind works. My life has been lived. I can't change details of it, nor can you..."

"I'm not asking you to change anything, merely the way you are detailing it. And besides, I would think you would appreciate a FEMALE with an orderly mind!"

"I never said that. Don't put words in my mouth, woman. YOU are going overboard!"

"I suppose now we will discuss the fateful day Elroy Applegate met his untimely death?"

"No, but now that you mention, it, I should say something." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "After all, it did happen under my command... The nearest we could figure out the next day, when it was realized that he had gone missing is he tripped on his swab and..."

"Captain! Stop!"

He turned a surprised gaze to her. "Madam, I was merely following your suggestion."

She buried her face in her hands for a moment, and then looked at him, bleary eyed.

"All you have done is start ANOTHER story! We need to get one finished. Can't you keep your mind from flitting from place to place?"

Daniel Gregg drew himself up stiffly. His blue eyes had turned stormy.

"My good woman, I do NOT "flit"." He adjusted his lapels. "Flit is a word to describe butterflies and young girls, not seamen. NOT me."

"Fine, how about meander?" she countered.

"Why do you keep complaining about me not being able to stay on track? I lived a full life and I am not ashamed to tell it and will apologize for nothing. No woman — no man was ever the worse in mind or spirit for having known me..."

"I didn't say they were, but that's not entirely true. There are a few stories you have told me... us... about Fat Philippe and Mad Basil and the tattoo parlor..." She broke off. "AGGGG! Now you have me doing it! This is driving me insane!" Resting her head on her hands, she added, "And I am NOT criticizing your life, just the way it's being told. You had a wonderful life, but people read books in order, not back and forth."

"My life is at it is and my mind works the way it works. I've been dead more than a hundred years and you have known me for less than two. Stop trying to make me change who I am!" he thundered. Again.

"I don't WANT to change you. I'd never want to change who you are. I would just like to amend your methods in this ONE thing so that what you want to do, what WE want to do, can be done!" Carolyn exclaimed in exasperation.

"I don't know if I can do that, Madam. I am who I am."

"Now you are acting like Popeye the sailor..." She smiled slightly "I am who I am—"

"I BEG your pardon?! Popeye? And for the millionth time, it's SEAMAN, BLAST IT!"

This time, the ghost's thunder shook the room. Carolyn held her hands over her ears. The room hadn't rocked like this since Martha had suggested cutting down the monkey-puzzle tree.

"No, you don't understand..." She broke off, and then scowled. "DON'T BLAST AT ME!"

"Don't you call me a cartoon character who doesn't even know what he is!"

"Captain, it was just what you said... My feeble attempt at a ... NEVER MIND! Forget it!"

"Forget what you said? Mrs. Muir, I..."

"No, blast it, forget this entire project! This has got to be the silliest idea I ever had! Go away! Get out of here! Get out of MY bedroom!"

Stunned, the seaman blinked and started to apologize. "Carolyn, I'm..."

Before he could say another word, the door to the bedroom opened.

"Captain Gregg, what did I tell you about thundering?" Martha came in with a full coffee pot and two cupcakes on a plate.

Daniel started to declare that he'd thunder whenever and wherever he liked, but Martha had that look on her face that reminded him of Aunt Violet, and he just could not. "I forgot myself, Martha."

"I did, too," Carolyn said, standing. "I think I'll go for a walk... that is, if you can refrain from any more thundering, Captain."

"Yes, Madam," he answered softly.

"Should I tell the children you two will be back shortly?" Martha asked. "Margaret Coburn should be pulling up any time, now."

"I don't know about Captain Gregg," Carolyn said stiffly, "I'm going for a walk. I don't know WHAT the Captain is doing."

"I will wait with you, Martha, for the children," he said gravely.

Carolyn grabbed her jacket and headed for the door while Martha stared after her. When the younger woman had gone, Martha turned to the spirit.

"Okay, now what really happened? What were you two fighting about now?"

The seaman scowled. "To be honest, I am not completely certain. It seems Ca— Mrs. Muir does not wish to pursue this book idea after all. Every time I start to tell my story, she stops me and accuses me of flitting or meandering. And, today she called me a sailor. Popeye the sailor!"

Martha smiled slightly, and then forced her face into a more somber look. "That doesn't sound like Mrs. Muir. You must have said something that made her think of Popeye. She doesn't even like that cartoon. She's forever telling the kids to find something else to watch. Maybe she was making a joke."

"Some joke... about my life! She wanted to do the memoirs..."

"And you haven't? Come on, Captain. Don't give me that. You love telling stories about your past. Look what happened the first night we had a chance to really talk... remember? When Mrs. Muir and the kids were out of town at that wedding for her friend? We saw maybe ten minutes of Captain Blood, and then you started telling me what ships were really like and other stories about your years at sea and before I knew it, it was four in the morning, and I had forgotten about Errol Flynn and Ray Milland completely. Your tales were much more interesting than the movies. But, Captain, you do have a bit of a tendency to meander and tell three stories at once."

Daniel tugged his ear thoughtfully. "I do?"

"Yes, you do. And I was only listening, not trying to get it all down on paper."

The seaman sighed. "I am afraid we have set ourselves an impossible task, Martha, and now Ca... your employer is furious with me."

Martha folded her arms over her chest. "I think Mrs. Muir just needs to cool off for a bit and regroup. Look, why don't you go up to the attic..."

"Wheelhouse. It's my wheelhouse."

"Wheelhouse, then, and do a little regrouping of your own? Zone out? Or if you don't want to do that, take a hike on a cloud somewhere and let your mind float a bit. Things can't be that bad. Don't do anything for a couple of hours. Maybe I can do something later. Just join us and visit at dinner like you always do, and try not to be too much of a bear."

Daniel nodded. "Maybe I do need a break."

"Maybe you do, you old ogre." She grinned.

Grinning back, Daniel disappeared, and the housekeeper was only a bit surprised when she felt a light kiss on her cheek, and heard the seaman's voice echo, "Thank you, Martha," before she knew the spirit had truly departed for the time being.

XXX

Carolyn wandered down the beach, not able to shut off her mind, but not really thinking either. She had so wanted to do this project, and it was as good as sold, but now, it seemed utterly impossible. And, though she tried not to dwell on it, her thoughts kept drifting back to the Captain, wondering if she really had heard him say her Christian name... again.

"It must have been my imagination," she shrugged to herself.

Wishful thinking? A little voice inside her head asked.

"Yeah, right," she answered back. "You know perfectly well I have been hoping he would say 'Carolyn' again since he called me by name the night Mom and Dad renewed their vows. It sure surprised me when Daniel suggested something romantic like that!"

Blast, Carolyn... Daniel... you're doing it yourself! And you can't even say his name to his face! After almost two years! She frowned inwardly, sending a glare back into her own psyche.

But, you do want to, a slightly know-it-all voice that sounded like her own added pointedly.

"OF course I do... I don't know how I have stopped myself for as long as I have... but he'd hate it if I did so without him first encouraging it. It's that blasted nineteenth-century man creeping out. I don't dare." Truth be told, she wasn't sure how she would face him again. "I did lose my temper..." she sighed. "And he didn't get my Popeye joke at all. I thought for sure he had heard the kids chanting along with Popeye about "I am what I am and that's all I am," and he did say that, blast it..." Frustrated, she stooped to pick up a shell and threw it as far as she could into the sea. "What to do! What to do!"

For what seemed to be a very long time, but was less than it felt like, Carolyn stood contemplating the restless waves.

XXX

Daniel popped into his wheelhouse and surveyed the area. Rubbing his jaw, he contemplated the mess. Really, someday, he ought to consider tidying it, a little. The seaman pondered, and decided to think about it more at a later date. Right now, he was considering whether or not a gift would smooth the waters with Mrs. Muir. He could not believe he had slipped and called her "Carolyn." Fortunately, she had not seemed to notice.

As he opened his sea chest, Daniel scowled. He really did not owe HER an apology; if anything, it was the other way around, or perhaps they both owed each other one, thus cancelling out the need for any at all. But, that was not true. Daniel knew that perfectly well.

Something was different, the ghost realized. Someone had been in his sanctuary, altered it somehow. Slightly confused and more than a little annoyed, he glared around; trying to determine what was changed. Then, he saw a folded piece of paper on the figurehead.

Carolyn, Mrs. Muir, blast it, must have decided a note would be the easiest way to apologize. With a smile, he reached out and took the paper, then frowned as he unfolded it and read:

Danny,

I know your birthday is coming up, but it seems I won't be able to make my annual visit quite on time. The benighted offspring of my children have heard that the Elder Pierce has handed off the firm to young Adam; ergo, they are trying to exploit a perceived vulnerability. I do not dare leave long enough to enjoy a glass of Madeira with you. Sorry, old son. I do have good feelings about Adam, so your gift should only be belated. I just do not know how long. Considering your charming company, however, I will not worry about you being too forlorn. Until then.

Charles Dashire

Daniel shook his head in amusement. He could almost picture Dash's wink as the last lines had been written. Fortunately, Daniel DID have a good supply of Madeira. Until the Muirs had moved in, there had been few occasions on which to break out a bottle. He could have drunk it alone, but it was less enjoyable. Hmm, that was a thought. Perhaps a glass of Madeira would help ease the tension between Mrs. Muir and himself?

As Carolyn entered the house, Martha was hanging up the phone. In response to her curious look, the older woman said, "Mrs. Coburn's stuck in Keystone with a flat tire. Triple-A is on the way to fix it, but she won't be able to get the kids and wondered if I'd mind doing it. I said I could." Her voice held a slight question, as if making sure that was all right.

Carolyn nodded. "I guess I should get back to work," she noted a little grimly.

In an almost maternal tone, Martha asked, "Is there anything you want to talk to me about? I thought you were so anxious to write this book, but you look like you are dreading it."

Carolyn's eyes lowered. "I was — am, but the way the Captain is jumping around in telling his story is driving me nuts! I don't know how I can get it all sorted out into a logical order. And, I have other things to do, things that pay now. So, I don't know how we'll ever find time to finish. He can dictate all hours, but I can't listen throughout the night or stop everything else to devote all my time to him." She sighed. "Of course, he just does not understand that. He talks about women being impossible and illogical. He's got us beat by a nautical mile."

Martha frowned. "There has got to be a solution. I just don't know what."

"I thought about buying a tape recorder, but I need to be paid for the book first, and I won't be unless I can find a way to finish it, which is what the recorder would help with," Carolyn threw her hands in the air.

"You have O. Henry beat on the conundrum situation," Martha agreed. "Well, the Captain is doing whatever ghosts do to get calmed down in the wheelhouse, so why don't you just relax a while longer? I'll be home with the kids soon as I can, but I figured as long as I was in town, I might make a run by the store. We need bread and peanut butter and they have a sale going on chicken. I thought I would go ahead and pick up some of that, too. The kids can help me shop, and it will take no time at all."

Carolyn managed a smile. "Thanks, Martha. You're a treasure."

"I know," she grinned agreeably.

Carolyn frowned. "I suppose I should be doing something, but I am almost afraid to tackle the book again, just yet. What if D... The Captain..." She sighed. "I can't decide if I am more worried he will pop in on me, or if he won't."

"Good question," Martha said, reaching for her coat. "The house FEELS like he is still here — just not — here-here. I told him to go cool off. I think he is doing just that. Take a break — watch TV, listen to the radio. Don't do anything writing-wise for a little bit. You are worrying too much and that won't help anything."

A small smile crept over Carolyn's face. "Thank you, Martha. I'll follow your wise advice."

"That's better," she nodded. "I better get going. The kids will be waiting for me."

"Are you sure you don't want me to do it?" Carolyn looked around. "Since I'm not writing at the moment anyway, I mean."

"Nope." The housekeeper shook her head. "I have the grocery shopping to do, and you know how you hate that."

"True," Carolyn smiled again.

"I'll be back in no time," Martha added. "Maybe after some supper things will look better."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

XXX

When Martha got to town, she located Candy and Jonathan with no trouble, got Linda Coburn and Suzy Jenkins dropped off, and then they headed for the grocery store. The shopping didn't take long and they were on their way back to the car with the groceries when Claymore Gregg came running up to them.

Huffing slightly, he exclaimed, "Oh, good. I've been looking all over, from the school to the edge of town for you!"

"Hi, Mr. Gregg," the kids chorused in pointed politeness as Martha added her own greeting.

She continued with, "You could have just come out to Gull Cottage, you know."

The lanky man's eyes got big and he shook his head. "Er, well, as a last resort, but I knew that someone would come get the kids from school, so why take all that time to go out and make you-know-who even more irked with me?" This last was said in a whisper.

Shrugging, Martha decided not to bother arguing. The chickens were not going to get any colder as they stood in the parking lot, so she wanted to get the groceries home and put up before anything went bad. "What do you need, Claymore?"

"It's not what I need, my good woman," he declared. "It's what Mrs. Muir needs, and what HE needs." Martha favored him with a dubious look. "I was cleaning out the back room, sorta. I was trying to find something, but it wasn't there," he explained. "I have no idea where to look now. I checked everywhere."

"Claymore..."

"Oh, right. Well, I came across a big, steel strongbox, way, way in the back of the store room and I opened it, thinking that it maybe it would have what I was after, but it didn't. It DID, however have the Gregg Family Bible and a bunch of other stuff related to — him." He shuddered dramatically. "I bet that it'd all help with Mrs. Muir's book."

"That's COOL, Claymore!" Candy burst out. "Can... I mean, MAY we take them home with us? I can't wait to tell the Captain!"

"Yeah, groovy," Jonathan added. "Unless..." His voice took on a cynical edge. "You are going to GIVE them to us, aren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Claymore nodded. "I know better than to charge, by now. But, look, just the stuff isn't everything..." They were to the Muir station wagon by this time. "Look, put this stuff in the car and come back to my office. I need to show you something... About the Bible, I mean, and I better tell you without lots of people around."

"Claymore, we have cold stuff in here!" Martha protested. "These chickens need the fridge."

"I didn't say it would take long, and my office is only across the street," Claymore sniffed. "Besides, I might need some help getting the strongbox to the car so my slipped disc doesn't slip again... Or do you want it to?"

"Uh, no," Martha shook her head violently. She didn't need another week of gourmet cooking for Claymore. "But, please… Quickly."

"Like the wind. Really."

XXX

Two minutes later, they were in Claymore's office/residence. Casting a glance around, Martha couldn't refrain from commenting, "You said you were straightening up?"

With a scowl, he corrected her, "In the back room. This is the front room. Now, do you want to critique me or hear what I have to say?"

"Hear what you have to say, by all means," Martha scowled. "And hurry up. I need to get home and start dinner, and play ref... That is, see what Mrs. Muir and the Captain are... up to."

"Writing, I hope," Claymore sniffed.

"Where's the treasure chest, Claymore?" Candy asked.

"It's not a treasure chest. It's a strongbox. If it was a treasure, I would keep it."

"Even if it only had a peg-leg in it?" Jonathan asked.

"Even. You got the last one," Claymore answered. "But the strongbox is right here." He reached under his desk and scooted it out. Opening it, he lifted out a large object wrapped in cloth. "Ta-daa! The pièce de résistance!"

"What is it?" Martha eyed the bundle. She was fairly sure he'd mispronounced that last word, but was in no mood to argue semantics.

"The Gregg Family Bible."

"Well, that's nice, but what makes it so important, other than I am sure the Captain will be delighted to get it back?"

"Wait 'till you see..." Claymore gloated. Removing the covering, he opened the ancient book, carefully flipped over to the second page and pointed. "Look!"

Martha leaned over to read, "Daniel Elias Alexander Gregg, born to Alexander Gregg and Camilla Gregg, April 8, 1825." Glancing up, she said, "So, we knew he was born? Wait — I thought—"

Candy was almost dancing in glee. "But, Martha, remember how we wanted to surprise him with a birthday party in November? That was the day he died, not was born. Now, we can have a real party for him, on the right day."

Martha nodded. "I remember now — He told me when his birthday was not long after we met. I wasn't sure if he was humoring me, or what. He said he didn't want a fuss, and that your mom didn't even know the right day, but we can't let this go." She shook her head. "I'd love to make him a cake and give him a present, though what, I have no idea. But this Bible and these other papers, I am sure would make a wonderful present for him!"

Claymore's head bobbed up and down and he assumed a smug expression. "Exactly my thoughts. Of course, Mrs. Muir will want to be sure and credit the source of her information. I bet this deserves at least a paragraph in the introduction to his memoirs! Something on the order of: With thanks to Claymore James Gregg, whose invaluable help made this whole book possible."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Didn't she promise you something like that when her Cousin Harriet was here, and you had to pretend to be the Captain?"

"Yeah, but this kinda clinches it, don't you think?"

"I suppose. Claymore, what else is in the box?"

"A couple of his logs, the Bible, a few maps and some kind of other little book... and a diary — but it isn't in his handwriting. I can't quite tell whose it is, and I was afraid of reading it and getting him mad at me again. Nothing valuable though — No jewels or stock certificates or anything. But I figured Captain Gregg would be glad to have them."

"Martha..." Jonathan tugged on Martha's sleeve. "Maybe we can give this stuff to the Captain for his birthday?"

Candy shook her head. "I don't think so, Jonathan. His birthday isn't for... sixteen days. That's too long to wait to give it to him! Besides, they need the stuff for his book, and Mom and the Captain are working on that now."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot."

"You know..." Martha suggested, "...He's missed celebrating a LOT of birthdays, so maybe it's a late present from last year. Very late."

The two children grinned. "That's a GREAT idea, Martha!" they said together.

"Can you help up get the strongbox to the car, Claymore?" Candy added. "We need to get it home NOW."

"But wait until just the right moment to give it to him," Jonathan added. "We can hide it in the car until Martha makes him a cake."

"Can I be there when you give it to him?" Claymore asked. "I found it, after all."

"I thought you didn't want to come to Gull Cottage, Claymore?"

"The Captain won't hurt me if I am giving him a present."

"WE'RE giving him a present," Candy argued.

"But, I DID find it."

"But, one of your ancestors took it away from the Captain to begin with."

"That's not my fault. Do you want his stuff, or not?"

"YES!" three exasperated voices said in unison.

"Let's get it to the car, then." Claymore looked at his watch. "I suppose you won't have time to put a party together tonight?"

Knowing the mood the Captain and her employer were each in, Martha did not think Claymore would be the most welcome of guests, no matter WHAT he had with him. "Sorry, no. I'm not Superman's sister, after all. These things take a bit of planning."

"Tomorrow, maybe?"

Martha shrugged. "Let me think. Tomorrow is Tuesday, a school night, but... yes, I think I can. The sooner we get this stuff to the Captain, the happier I think they will both be."

"They aren't happy? I thought they were working away on the book."

"They're having a tad of trouble figuring out the best way to go about it," Martha hedged. "But it will pass, I'm sure. And, I know these papers and the Bible will help. It's why I don't think we should wait until April 8th before giving it to him."

Now, Claymore looked nervous. "He's not happy? Oh, no. If he's not happy, NO ONE is happy. Maybe you should skip the party. Give it to him NOW, if it'll make him happy."

Martha shook her head again. "Nope. Tomorrow will be better. Trust me. Besides, I really do need time to plan."

"Well, if you're sure."

"I am. Now, Claymore, could you please help us load this in the car? In the way back, please. We'll need to stash it there until tomorrow night. And, we really need to get going. I don't want that chicken to thaw."

"Can you cook chicken for the birthday dinner? Chicken and dumplings, maybe? I'm a big chicken-man, you know."

"We'll see, Claymore." Silently, she thought, I had THAT figured out ages ago.

XXX

Martha watched the landlord walk back across the street and then glanced at Candy and Jonathan, who were now in the back of the car, carefully covering the metal box with a blanket they used for picnics at the beach.

"Don't worry about us, Martha," Candy winked. "We can keep the secret!"

"I know," the housekeeper smiled. "I just hope the Captain doesn't pick up on our 'happy vibes' when he is feeling so NOT happy. I just wish that I..."

"Miz Grant! Martha!" A shout came from across the street, and Reverend Farley, barely mindful of the traffic, came running from the other side, a large shopping bag in his hand.

What NOW? Martha thought, but forced a smile to her face. "Reverend. How nice to see you. Do you need a ride somewhere? Your parcel looks cumbersome, after all."

The good man shook his head. "Oh, no, Martha. I just wanted to catch you, that's all. Here." He extended his hand to give the package to her.

Looking confused, she accepted it on reflex. "Did I forget something at church?"

"Oh, no," the Reverend grinned. "I'd say you gained something. Don't you remember the raffle ticket you bought a month ago? You know, the fund raiser for the new organ?"

"Yes..." Martha nodded. "The prize was two theater tickets for the Country Dinner Playhouse in Keystone and dinner for two. I thought if I won, Mister Peavey and I could go. But this package is way too big for theater tickets."

"Ah, yes, but second prize... That's what you won!"

"I didn't even know there WAS a second prize."

The pastor nodded. "Oh, yes. Donations are terrific write-offs and free advertising for businesses. I'm afraid it's a slightly out of date model, seeing as how the new version is just now coming on the market, but it's still a good machine."

"Model of what?" Martha frowned.

"I didn't tell you? My mind wanders, I fear. It's a cassette tape recorder. I suppose it plays them, too."

"Groovy!" the children shouted together.

"Can we try it?" Candy asked. "I wanna hear how my voice sounds."

"You'll sound the same way you always sound," Jonathan grumbled. "Like my sister. I get to go first, for a change."

"I'm older. I should get to go first!"

"Cool it," Martha chided. "Thank you, Reverend. Now, this just goes to show you that things work out right. Mrs. Muir was saying she needs one of these, so your timing is perfect. It'll help her on her... interviews, you know."

"Excellent," the man beamed, then waved before taking off.

XXX

The Captain debated making the first move toward reconciliation or waiting for Mrs. Muir. He knew that he was NOT in the wrong; however, as the man, he should take the lead in most, if not all, matters. Besides, it was an indication of the bigger spirit who was most willing to make the effort to achieve peace, wasn't it? And, he was not one to hold a grudge. Not against a lady, anyway. Finley did not count; the man was a dolt who had passed on his stupidity throughout the generations. And Claymore continually did things that required forgiveness anew.

Finally, after spending several minutes pacing and arguing with himself, the ghost decided taking action was better than trying to decide whether to do so or not. He just hoped that making a gesture would not make him appear to be weak.

After collecting the Madeira and glasses, he popped to the kitchen; Daniel could sense that Carolyn was in there, probably drinking coffee. He wondered for a moment if he should suggest she drank too much of that stuff and if perhaps it was affecting her nerves, but thought better of it.

As he popped into the kitchen, Carolyn was on her feet, heading toward the door. Their eyes met.

"I was wondering if you might care for a glass of Madeira?" the seaman asked. "We've been working rather hard, and perhaps this would help us — both — relax? I fear the tension is perhaps having an adverse effect upon us both."

"I was just coming to look for you," Carolyn confessed. "I… yes. I would enjoy some Madeira with you." Nodding, the ghost poured them each a glass and took a seat opposite her. After a sip or two, Carolyn licked her lips and said, "Captain, your life is fascinating, and I do enjoy writing about it. I think reading about you would enrich the lives of many." Daniel gave her a pleased smile. "But, if it's going to interfere in our rela — in our friendship, I would rather not finish the project. That is more important to me than any book, even one that is so... dear to my heart," Carolyn got out and then waited for his response.

The smile faded into a stunned look. "Madam! I... do you truly think we cannot work this difficulty out? Surely there is some compromise we can come to? I am no quitter, and I do not believe you to be one, either."

"I don't want to quit, but if I have to choose between you or the book, I'd rather keep you — your friendship," Carolyn stated.

Looking troubled, the seaman said, "If there had to be a choice then that would be mine as well. However, we are both intelligent, mature adults. I believe we can find a way to work around our creative differences."

"I hope so."

"What is it you need to make this a workable situation for you, my dear?"

"I need to keep things in order, not just skip around, and I need you to understand I have other obligations. As much as I would like to give this project eight hours a day or more, it just isn't going to happen. Perhaps you could make notes for me to transcribe?"

"I suppose that would be possible," he frowned, thinking. "I cannot help it if one thought prompts another, and they are not always chronological."

"Maybe if that occurs, you can start a new page? I could sort out the notes."

He nodded. "But, as I was saying, I don't always think in order."

"I know that. I don't really think anyone does, exactly, but maybe if you could promise not to blast at me if I stop you, and say "you are doing it again," when you get off the track? And if I could outline — or at least make notes of what you want to include, we could go back and cover it later, when we have finished what you were talking about in the first place."

"I see. I think."

"And I told you, my outlines aren't formal — not like you had to learn in school... or did you? Just..." She shrugged. "...More along the ideas of things you definitely want to include. Then we could sort of decide what you want to talk about first, second, third and so on."

"Ah, yes..." Suddenly there was a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen in his hand. "So... your version of an outline would be..."

Carolyn began counting on her fingers. "Childhood... When you were born, parent's names, friends — you have mentioned Sean O'Casey and Andrew Freemont. What happened to your parents. When did you come to live with your Aunt Violet, When did she die, and how... When did you go to sea." Taking the paper from Daniel, she jotted a few notes. "Your first voyage, or voyages. Then lead into the Mexican War — some of that we already have. Horatio Figg. The whole story..." She gave him a look. "And don't forget, I can't use anything that isn't in your journals, or documented somewhere. If you don't have it noted somewhere in writing, somehow you need to... formally."

He frowned. "Aren't my word and my memory adequate for you, Madam?"

"More than adequate, Captain. But don't forget — nobody but this family and Claymore knows you are giving me first hand information, so to speak. I need to be able to back up whatever you tell me with something on paper... something I can reference. Something concrete. Do you understand?"

"I see..." He gave her a wicked grin.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking about the last time you said you needed something concrete and I found Horatio Figg's tombstone. That was certainly concrete enough!" The ghost started chuckling, and Carolyn's laugh soon joined his.

"Or at perhaps marble," she agreed. "But, do you see my point? Nonfiction books have to have cite-able sources. I know I hated doing bibliographies for my research papers in high school, but that does not change their necessity."

The ghost sighed. "I do understand you, and you are right. Blast. In looking over my journals, I was reminded of a few events in my past I never wrote down — I was looking forward to recounting them to you."

"Now, I never said you couldn't do that!" Carolyn exclaimed. "I am always in the mood for a good story! We can save those for our Madeira Tuesdays, when I plan on just being able to talk and visit with you without writing anything down at all."

He nodded, less than happy with the solution. "I don't suppose I could simply record down the stories, but put dates on the papers that predate my death? Such as I did with Vanessa's great-great-granddaughter? I promise not to quote anyone who wrote after I kicked the blasted gas heater."

"Oscar Wilde?" she grinned. "It's an idea, but... not to be paranoid, we would still have to be careful... especially if it places someone in less than a flattering light, like Horatio Figg. I mean your handwriting now could be matched to your old journals, but you couldn't go writing it down with a ballpoint on one of Jonathan's Big Chief tablets."

The spirit nodded. "I would not use such instruments, though I do think the ballpoint pen is a marvelous invention, but perhaps I could use one of my own pens? Perhaps I have a blank logbook or journal."

"That would work just fine," Carolyn smiled again. "Right now, I think we will have enough for two volumes of memoirs, just getting the stories down that can be documented!"

"If we get the bugs worked out, as you say, a sequel would be a fine thing, my dear!"

Carolyn giggled. "You are putting the cart before the horse again, Captain. Let's get volume one done first and then worry about the next one. No telling what can happen between now and then. We don't even know if people will buy the first one, yet!"

The Captain blinked. "If? Madam, considering the talent you have displayed in your chosen field; the articles you have placed in the Beacon make that thing as near to readable as it has ever been, and your subject matter... I can foresee people buying multiple copies."

"Thank you, Captain," Carolyn said softly, turning bright red. "I do want to do a good job. I like to think I have improved since our... Maiden Voyage. I want to make you proud."

"There was nothing wrong with that story, except for the overactive imaginations of some readers," he blustered, then, his tone softened. "And, dear lady, you do not need to work to make me proud. You are a most admirable woman."

Carolyn turned redder. "Thank you, Captain," she almost whispered. "I was just..."

"HI!!! We're home!" Jonathan bellowed from the front door.

Automatically, they both turned their heads in that direction. Then, as Carolyn started to look back toward the Captain, she was almost certain she heard a faint "blast." However, his face did not look annoyed, so she was probably imagining things. Or had heard her own thoughts.

"Shall we go greet them together?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded, "Maybe we can continue our conversation a little later?"

"I'd be delighted."

XXX

All through the afternoon, Carolyn could tell that the kids and Martha seemed unusually happy and excited, but she could not get an answer out of them about the reason for it. Perhaps they were just glad that the dispute between her and Captain Gregg seemed to be somewhat resolved? Okay, since they had seemed exceptionally 'up' before having a chance to be aware of that, it seemed improbable for that to be the cause, granted. Still, she knew something had cheered them all considerably, and nothing seemed to be the cause.

While Carolyn pondered this, the Captain began organizing his thoughts so that they could make better headway and with less chance of turbulence arising. Deciding what to say was proving to be a greater challenge than he had anticipated. He preferred just speaking off the cuff, as ideas came to mind. Sternly, he told himself to be disciplined and lay a course for his words as he would for a ship. After all, how often had he wanted a chance to tell Mrs. Muir all about his life? To share it as she shared her life with him? To be sure, he enjoyed hearing about her daily domestic things, even taking interest in her attire and so forth, had liked meeting her parents, even if they could not see him, and had found amusement in evicting her various suitors. Hearing about all of the things that mattered to her made him smile, but he was all too aware that it might be said that he did not have a life any longer. This was a way to prove otherwise, to bring his world to life for one he cared about. And, were the truth known, Daniel was aware that he had an ego. He made no apologies for that, after all, he had just cause for one. He LIKED talking about himself. Recounting his past exploits was the best way he knew to impress Carolyn. He just had to pick the right incidents.

With great effort, the seaman began making notes, scratching things out often as he remembered something that came earlier than what he had written down. Blast, this was harder than it sounded.

Then, it was time to join the family for dinner. Smelling Martha's meatloaf and carrots tempted the ghost to attempt a meal. Dash's note had reminded him that the other spirit had mentioned eating and he had witnessed him doing so If Dashire could so gleefully ingest such things, surely Daniel could as well? On the other hand, failure could prove embarrassing and messy. It might be best to experiment when there was no audience. After the dishes were washed, the kids insisted that it was their turn to hear some of the Captain's stories.

"And, I won't argue if you go out of order, this time," Carolyn winked.

"I have your word, Madam?" the ghost found himself teasing back.

Holding up both hands so he could see that no fingers were crossed, she promised, "I will not complain once."

The ghost gave her a smug smile and began recounting the time that he, Charles Dashire, and Sean O'Casey had been required to eat roasted worms with the natives on the Fiji Islands.

As the story concluded, Candy exclaimed, "Eww! Nothing could make me eat worms... But your two pals sound nearly as cool as you are, Captain!"

Daniel smiled. "Thank you, my dear. I think they are rather "cool," as you say. They've certainly been my best friends for my lifetime and beyond."

"Captain?"

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"We've been here two years — how come the only ghost we have met is Elroy Applegate if you know other more neat ones?"

"Good question," Martha spoke up from her corner, where she was rocking and knitting. "I haven't met ANY of your friends, Captain... Any chance they will come to visit sometime?"

Candy shook her head. "I dunno whether Seaman Applegate will ever come back. He's afraid of your vacuum cleaner, Martha."

"Maybe he has a little bit more confidence now that he's scared Claymore?" Carolyn suggested.

"I suppose," the seaman nodded. "I haven't heard from him, though. I don't think he is exactly an expert, yet, and traveling through the ether can be tricky, especially if you are Elroy, but if things start moving by themselves... and breaking... it's a sure sign he's back... perish the thought!"

"I hope he hasn't told any other bungly ghosts about you and Gull Cottage," Candy added. "You'd feel like you would have to help them, but you and Mom have a book to write first!" Suddenly the little girl gave out with a grin as wide as her face.

"What's that look for, sweetie?" Carolyn asked.

Suddenly her grin faded. "Oh, nothing... I'm just really happy about the book and... stuff."

"What kind of... stuff?"

"Oh, just... stuff," Jonathan cut in. "Like you and the Captain getting along better and... other things. Stuff."

Candy nodded. "You must have figured out how to work together... like we have to with each other when we do group projects at school."

"Or play on the same side in gym, even we don't like each other — like me and Danny Shoemaker," Jonathan added.

"Out of the mouths of babes..." Martha whispered. "Uh... do we have time for another story, Captain?"

"As far as I am concerned, yes," the seaman nodded. "However, do you need to do homework, children? Or ready yourselves for bed?"

"It's not nearly time for bed, yet, and I did my homework this afternoon," Candy volunteered. "Miss Stoddard gave us some free time to do our reading, but I had already finished my chapters, so I did my arithmetic instead."

"And I only had to study my spelling words," Jonathan added. "But they are all review ones so far, so I learned them again really fast. Candy quizzed me on them when Martha was shopping for the... for the dinner tomorrow night."

"For THE dinner?" Carolyn asked, picking up on the definitive article. "What's special about tomorrow's dinner?"

"Oh, nothing in particular..." Martha said, forcing herself to look nonchalant and hoping madly to herself that a certain seaman couldn't see her make a tiny fib, (in a good cause, of course) "They had a nice sale on meat and vegetables, so I stocked up while the stocking was good. It puts me in a creative cooking mode. And I have a new… cake recipe I want to try out, too, so might as well try it all at once. Sometimes it's good to cook just for the fun of it, you know?"

"I'll have to take your word on that one," Carolyn dead-panned.

"Well, that's what I'm here for," Martha winked back; glad her employer had bought her fast ad-lib. "Now Captain, you were going to tell us another of your adventures?"

"Tell about the tribe of cannibals!" Jonathan piped up.

Martha shuddered. "How about something a bit — gentler?"

"I could tell you about the time my ship laid in the doldrums for two weeks and we only had enough provisions left for one..." The Captain said thoughtfully. "The ship was completely becalmed... And my crew was... Well, if it wasn't for Sean and Dash, I'm not sure I would have lived to tell the tale."

"What did they do?" Carolyn asked, wishing she could meet these two vibrant men.

"Defended their Captain, naturally," Daniel answered, with more than a little pride. "Sean was right there when the cook went mad and managed to subdue him without killing him, and Dash and Nathaniel — he was my midshipman for that voyage, managed to get the rest of the crew calmed down, and the three of them — along with me — ate nothing for three days, until the winds finally filled our sails again."

"Where are your friends now?" Martha asked.

"Who? My crewmen?"

"Not all of them; just Dashire, Sean, Nathaniel..."

"Nathaniel died and went into the light. Dash is haunting, but his preferred area is Skeldale His home is there and he defends it regularly from his descendants, who are determined to loot the place. How he does that is another story. He had seven children, so there are a lot of them. I'm surprised that their isn't a town named for him!" He paused seeing Carolyn and Martha's brows go up. "They were all by his wife. Sean? I miss Sean. He's a wandering ghost."

"Why? Because he doesn't have a place to haunt?" Candy asked. "Like Mister Dashire has his house and you have Gull Cottage?"

"Nay, lassie," Captain Gregg smiled at her. "Sean is looking for... something. His heart's desire, I suppose you could say. If he ever finds it, I daresay he will be the happiest ghost on the planet, but I am afraid he never will. He's been searching for... it for a hundred years. I would like to see him stop wandering some day and settle down somewhere. No one — man or ghost should be alone so much." His eyes turned pensive as he thought about his oldest friend on his seemingly eternal quest, and how less than two years before he was as alone... and lonely as his best friend. "He stops by Schooner Bay every decade or so. Perhaps he will land here again in the less than distant future."

"That'd be groovy," the little girl answered. "I just knew all ghosts weren't like Elroy Applegate, even if Elroy is okay in a klutzy kind of way. Anyway, I hope your friends come by SOON!"

"Actually, Candy, Seaman Applegate is rather a one of a kind," the Captain chuckled.

XXX

Finally, after two more stories, Carolyn was able to convince the kids it was time for bed. For some reason, Martha's enigmatic, "Tomorrow is another day," comment helped in that effort. Carolyn just knew something was up, but had no idea what, and getting a secret out of Martha when she did not want to tell it was nigh on impossible.

When morning came, no one seemed inclined to reveal whatever it was, either. After the kids left for school and Martha got busy on the laundry, Carolyn needed to finish an assignment for the Boston paper's Sunday supplement before she and the Captain could get back to the memoirs. Although he probably found this somewhat annoying, the spirit did not complain and simply went back to trying to organize so that their job would go more smoothly.

After eating the bowl of soup Martha insisted she have at noon, Carolyn was ready to dive back into the book. As she picked up the notepad the Captain had been working on, her face fell a little.

"What's wrong? I did as you asked," he said, either a little anxiously or testily, she was not sure which.

"I can see, but I'm having a hard time deciphering through all the scratch outs," Carolyn admitted. "And, it looks like you abbreviated. Er… could you help translate?"

A little bit of thunder rumbled, but Daniel quelled his temper and took the sheet. Looking at it, he would have to admit that the notes he had made really would not make much sense to anyone other than himself, or perhaps Sean O'Casey. The two had, at one point in their youth, devised a secret code. No one outside of themselves had been able to read it. No, he'd take that back. He was certain Sean had made Molly privy to the secret.

"I see what you mean," he allowed, and proceeded to decipher for her.

XXX

The rest of the day went quickly, and both the ghost and Mrs. Muir were surprised when they heard a car door slam outside and realized that Candy and Jonathan were home from school. Coming back through the French doors from the balcony, where she had observed their arrival, Carolyn sighed a bit.

"We're at a good stopping point, Captain. I can't believe we have done so much already... I don't know where it fits yet, but that story you told me about your steward going around the bend, getting... well... drunk, attacking you with a knife, and then making a dive into the sea, where he was never seen again was thrilling!"

"It was a close call," the ghost wiped his brow. "Poor fellow, he died on impact, near as we could tell, and sank to the bottom in no time. Just as well, really. We had no way to bring his body home, you know. But we did hold services for him."

"Well, much as I hate to say it, we may have to stop until this evening," she answered. "I want to go see the kids, see what the homework situation is, and help out there, if needed, or at least be on tap. Maybe we can go downstairs and proof what we have done so far?"

"Do our homework while the children are doing theirs?"

"More or less," she smiled. "Then I am sure it will be dinnertime, and before you know it, baths and bed. But as I said, we might be able to do a little more, later if you are still game."

"I don't want to wear you out, my dear."

She shook her head. "I'll tell you when I am tired. I promise."

"You must."

"MOM!!" a voice shouted. "Are you up there?"

"Coming!" Carolyn shouted back, and turned back to the ghost. "Shall we, Captain?"

"Indeed."

Rather than dematerializing, the Captain escorted Carolyn downstairs where they greeted the children.

"Hi!" Carolyn began. "How was school?"

"Fine, but the same," Candy chirped. "More arithmetic and I am just not quite getting it this time. You were so good at helping me last time, Captain, Can you do it again? I want to get it all out of the way before dinner."

"And I have to find stuff for current events and go over my newest spelling words for the final test tomorrow," Jonathan groaned. "Will you work with me, Mom? You're the best speller, ever. I want to get mine done right away, too."

"What? No putting it off until the last minute, Jonathan?"

"I'm... I'm trying to do better, Captain," the boy answered quickly. "Besides, there's… good TV on tonight."

One brow lifted as the ghost observed dryly, "Truly? That merits being deemed a historical event, judging by what I've seen play on it."

"There is some good stuff," Candy chimed in. "Some of it is kinda silly, like the nun who can fly, but I like The Courtship of Eddie's Father... and I like it even more now that I know Tim Seagirt wrote and sang the song they use for the opening of it. It didn't sound like him singing they way he sings Without Her, or If Only I Could Touch Your Hand, but I saw his name in the credits. And Daniel Boone is good, and Bewitched, too."

"I used to think Bewitched was a little far-fetched," Martha said, with a straight face. "But, that was before I found out there's a ghost living here." She frowned, "Or NOT living — Oh, you know what I mean, and besides, you're far too alive to be — un-alive, Captain Gregg."

"Thank you, my good woman," Daniel grinned. "And I know exactly what you mean."

"Now then, I have a dinner to start," Martha went on. "So unless you want to help peel potatoes, Captain, I suggest you and everyone else adjourn to their corners and get done what needs to get done. Dinner will be sometime between five thirty and six. I found a good steak on sale, rare at our butcher's — so the menu tonight is steak, scalloped potatoes, corn, my homemade biscuits with blackberry jam and double chocolate cake with coconut icing for dessert. And Captain..."

"Yes?"

"I'd really like it if you could join us for our meal tonight. Celebrating a good deal at the butcher's should involve everyone in this house," she smiled. "Regardless what their dietary habits are. Besides, I really think if you can sip Madeira, and tea, you can nibble."

"Very well, Madam..." He turned to Carolyn. "You would like me to attend, also?"

"Very much," Carolyn answered, turning pink. "I... all of us would enjoy your company again this evening, a great deal. And Martha is right. Maybe you CAN manage a taste of everything, somehow."

"I will be most happy to join you for dinner, my dear," he said warmly, a smile lighting his face.

"Then that's settled," Martha cut in. "Now are you helping me peel potatoes, Captain?"

"I've done my duty peeling potatoes — enough for three lifetimes, I believe," he commented quickly. "Come along, then, let's get to work, crew."

"Aye-aye!"

XXX

The next two hours went by rapidly. Somehow or another, Candy finished her arithmetic with speed (decimals turned out to be a snap after all, and the spirit showed her a way to calculate percentages in her head that he had learned from Lord Dashire a hundred years previously.) Jonathan had finished his spelling and collected enough current events to satisfy his teacher, but he did mention in passing that he was sure that everyone would pick the same ones because the Beacon was so small. In between times, Carolyn and Daniel proofed what they had managed to get written the last few days, and the Captain had already started a new pad of notes... "Because..." he said, "...Every story we have managed to get put to paper reminds me of another story that goes with it, and how, Madam, will we ever decide what events stay and what will end up getting saved until next time?"

Carolyn only smiled. Her ghost was sounding like a born writer already!

"Dinner will be in another five minutes," Martha announced, popping her head in through the living room entryway. "I hope everyone has a good appetite, or as much as one CAN, at any rate." She frowned. "I might have gotten a little carried away."

"The whole house smells heavenly, Martha," Captain Gregg said, and Carolyn nodding also. "I do believe you have succeeded in at least causing me to at least feel slightly hungry — enough so that I might, if I concentrate, be able to manage a bite or two, at least!"

"Oh, go on!" Martha said, looking pleased. When Daniel added nothing more, she continued. "No... I really mean it, go on!"

The Captain grinned. "You're a treasure, Martha."

"Thank you," the housekeeper answered, looking even happier. "Is everyone ready?"

"I was ready a half-an-hour ago," Jonathan announced.

"Me, too," Candy added.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Now, I wonder who in the world that could be?" Carolyn asked to no one in particular.

"We'll just see," the ghost answered, disappearing. He was back five seconds later. "It's that shivering squid, Madam. Don't answer the door."

"Claymore?" Carolyn queried. "Captain, don't be silly — I have to get it. It might be important."

"Nothing that brittle-boned pest has to say is important."

The doorbell rang again.

"I better go," Carolyn sighed. "Kids, you go ahead and sit down at the table. I'll be there in a minute."

"I'd rather come with you," Jonathan answered.

"Why?" Carolyn asked, so astounded that she completely missed the look her children exchanged.

The little boy shrugged. "Just because."

"Okay." His mother shook her head. If this was the strangest thing her son would ever ask permission to do, she would consider herself fortunate.

"I will accompany you," Daniel added.

"I sorta figured that," she said with something between exasperation and a comfortable, vocal smile.

"Come on, Candy," Martha said. "You can help me fill the water glasses."

"Okay. Sure, Martha," the girl replied.

As the two headed off in one direction, the other Muirs, Scruffy, and Captain Gregg went to the door.

"Good evening, Claymore, what can we do for you?" Carolyn asked with a pleasant look.

"Make it quick," Daniel warned.

The reedy man shifted nervously, shooting a quick glance at his 'uncle.' "Er — well, I... I just... ulp... wanted to — return Jonathan's Don Speed books. The one with the train and the other one with the — invisible airplane." He held up two slim, brightly colored books. "I figured if I don't return them, Jonathan wouldn't let me borrow his new one when it comes out, and it's supposed to be really good. The library doesn't get these, y'know, and Jonathan said that his grandparents were going to send the new one to him."

Jonathan took his books, thanked their landlord and then added, "Say, Claymore, would you like to stay to dinner? Martha said she made too much."

Carolyn's eyes grew big, but she did not want to discourage generosity in her children, and Claymore really wasn't all that bad... mostly.

The ghost shot a glare straight at Claymore, daring him to accept.

"Do you really want me to?" he gulped, looking from one to the other as he considered that this might not have been a good idea, after all.

"Please, Mom?" Jonathan piped up.

Carolyn glanced at Daniel, silently trying to communicate that she could not say no before she said, "Of course, Claymore. Come right in."

As the Captain stepped aside to let his supposed relative enter, the ghost hissed, "You are staying for the boy's sake, but be warned, you are not to take advantage."

Claymore shuddered and hurried after Carolyn and Jonathan as they led the way to the kitchen. When everyone was settled, Carolyn turned to the spirit. "Would you please give the blessing, Captain?"

"I'd be honored, dear lady," he answered softly.

"But how can you..." Claymore started, but Martha kicked him under the table. "...Hey!"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Claymore!" the woman exclaimed. "My foot slipped."

The seaman bowed his head, and everyone else at the table followed his example. When the brief prayer concluded, Martha began serving.

"This looks heavenly, Martha!" Claymore exclaimed. "I'm so glad I have the best cook in Schooner Bay as a tenant!"

The woman paused, not sure whether this called for a sarcastic comeback or a simple thank you.

"We're glad, too, Martha," Carolyn added sincerely.

With relief, Martha beamed, "Thank you, both."

Plates were filled in no time — the Captain glaring at Claymore only once for taking too hefty a helping of scalloped potatoes. When everyone was ready to begin eating, they turned to the ghost of Gull Cottage.

"Go ahead, Captain!" Candy exclaimed. "Eat! I helped Martha cook a little bit. I want to see how you like it!"

"Your mother is the hostess," Daniel demurred. "She should start."

"No, you..." Carolyn insisted.

All too aware of the focus on himself, the Captain took a tentative bite and prayed even more sincerely than he had when asking the blessing; while silently promising that if this did not work, Dash would get a piece of his mind for leading him to believe it might. When he was certain everything had worked properly, he declared, "Delicious, Martha."

"Thank you, Captain!" Martha grinned. "You aren't just saying that? You can really taste it?"

The spirit nodded. "Yes. I really can. I am not sure how, but it's marvelous."

"Can you stand up for a second, Captain?" Jonathan asked.

"Whatever for, Jonathan?"

"I want to see if there's any food on the chair."

The ghost stifled a grin. He knew the boy was serious, and was only looking out after his interests.

"I don't believe that will be necessary, lad."

Seeing the dubious look the little boy was giving him, the seaman added, "Trust me, I would know. As I have never had a problem with Madeira, it only stands to reason that other things should prove equally edible. I did manage popcorn once with Candy... The day we met, remember, lass?"

"I do, Captain!" Candy exclaimed. "That day was the coolest!"

"Oh. It's just that I forgot you ate something before — so I was worried."

"No need to be, Jonathan."

"Well, now that you know you can eat, you can have some of Martha's cookies and cakes, too!"

"Only if he waits for them to cool," the housekeeper teased, remembering their Christmas dream and the Captain's muffin snatching.

"I promise!" the Captain, laughed, raising his right hand in an oath, and sneaking a glance at Carolyn, seated at the other end of the table.

"Uh... right!" Carolyn smiled. "So, Claymore... What have you been up to, lately?"

For a second, it appeared that he would not answer as he blinked at her, amazed that he was being asked. Then, he launched into a detailed account of his latest activities, from real estate to his duties as head of the town council.

XXX

Claymore finished outlining his plans for a Spring Fund-raiser dance and Candy and Jonathan had each told about their day before the meal was over.

"I'm not sure I can eat another bite, Martha!" Carolyn sighed. "The steak was delicious. I can't remember the last time I have had a meal this good! And with your talents in the kitchen, I know whereof I speak."

"Nor I, Martha..." Captain Gregg started, and then stopped. "...Actually I can. It was more than a hundred years ago, and that meal couldn't hold a candle to this one!"

"I do love cooking for a man!" Martha grinned. "I hope you saved room for dessert, Captain."

"I DO have a hundred year's worth of meals to catch up on," he countered. "But I could use a break — of course, I would do the same thing between dinner and dessert when I was alive," he was quick to add.

Martha nodded. "I know exactly what you mean, Now then... What I would like to do is clear the table, make a pot of coffee, and then we could all have dessert" She paused. "But too many bodies in the kitchen helping just becomes annoying! Captain, why don't you get some exercise? Stretch your legs a bit? You and Mrs. Muir have been cooped up in the house all day working on the book. It's not healthy to stay indoors all the time! You both could take a walk, and the kids and Claymore can help me clear up. By the time you get back, dessert and coffee will be ready."

"But, I'm a guest!" Claymore protested.

"Help the lady," Daniel growled.

"Aye-aye, sir," Claymore answered, without any further protest. "Do you want me to wash or dry, Martha?"

"Clearing the table first would be advisable, Claymore."

"Oh, yeah."

"I think this is our cue to depart, Madam," the Captain winked at Carolyn.

"Martha, are you sure I can't...?"

"Not a bit of it. You two run along and enjoy yourselves. You both deserve a rest."

Carolyn looked from one to the other and then gave up. "Okay, lead on, kind sir."

"Delighted, I'm sure," he answered, content. "When should we be back, Martha?"

"Oh... forty-five minutes or so, Captain. That should give us enough time."

"Time for what?"

"To... Do what we need to do," she answered vaguely.

"Hmm. Very well."

Two minutes later, the ghost and mistress of Gull Cottage were out the front door and heading down the flagstone walk.

"Sheesh!" Claymore breathed a sigh. "I thought they would never leave! Now what, Martha?"

"You and I are still getting the dishes out of the way and the dessert ready," the housekeeper answered. "Kids, you start decorating the living room."

"What about the strongbox?" Claymore asked. "Isn't it still hidden in your station wagon?"

"When we're sure they're far enough away that you won't be seen, go get it," she replied. "You know, it's too bad that Applegate fellow is so inept; it'd be handy to have more than one ghost around, at least when we need subterfuge."

Jonathan giggled. "I don't think Seaman Applegate would be good at... whatever that is. I don't even think he can say it."

"It means being sneaky," Candy said matter-of-factly. "But, being good at it."

"Right, but you shouldn't worry about getting to be a pro at that," Martha added.

"We're doing okay so far," Candy pointed out. "I don't think Mom or the Captain suspect anything. And that's hard to do. Moms know everything, and the Captain knows stuff even Mom doesn't. He always knows if something is wrong... even a little."

"Maybe that's why he doesn't suspect anything this time," Jonathan mused. "Because this time it isn't what is wrong, it is what is RIGHT."

"So, let's keep it that way," Martha smiled. "Candy, Jonathan, go get the decorations and have at it. Claymore, time to clear the table."

"I'm really more of an artist than a—" he began to protest, breaking off in a gulp when he saw the look on her face. "Er — on the other hand, the great artistes are multi-talented. I'll help you."

"I thought you would," she answered, giving him a look. "Enough dawdling, Claymore."

XXX

As the Captain and the lady walked down the beach, it would have been so natural for them to hold hands or link arms, but it just was not possible. Was it? The ghost thought about it. He had not thought it possible to eat, but he had certainly enjoyed the steak. Still, it might be pushing things to attempt one more miracle on the same day. He would have to make time to visit Dash and discuss how possible such things were, if the nobleman's promised visit did not materialize in... A few months, anyway. He really did not want to subject either of them to Dash's somewhat poor teaching skills.

"Captain? Did you hear me?"

Daniel was suddenly aware that Mrs. Muir had been speaking.

"Forgive me, Madam. My mind wandered. Would you mind repeating yourself?" he apologized.

She smiled. Apologies from Captain Gregg were rare gifts. "No problem. I was just saying that despite our rough start, I have truly enjoyed working with you again. You are a very remarkable man, both in life and death. I knew that, but I am gaining a new appreciation of the fact."

The ghost beamed. "Well, naturally. After all, you have a remarkable subject. I must say that I have found our collaboration most interesting, as well. True, it was rough seas, at first, but we may be on the way to smooth sailing, or at least less rough. You are a gifted writer, my dear. Any ghost would be fortunate to have a biographer with your skill."

"Even if I insist on having a working plan?"

"Even then," he allowed. "I must admit I do find it frustrating that I have now been able to think so many stories worth recording that I never bothered to write down."

"And you haven't found any old paper and ink you can use to record them now?" Carolyn asked. She knew Deke had ways of aging things, but did not know if that extended to being able to antiquify papers. Asking would look somewhat suspicious.

"I am still searching," the ghost stated. "I know this time I cannot get away with aging the paper as I did when I made that treasure map for Claymore to find. You know — the one that tricked him into making repairs at Gull Cottage? Right after you moved in?"

"I do, Captain!" Carolyn laughed. "Best five dollars I ever lost."

They walked a little farther, chatting about nothing and then decided to head back to the house.

As they entered the living room, a chorus of voices yelled, "Surprise! Happy Birthday!"

Mrs. Muir and Captain Gregg stared at their grinning family and then looked to each other.

"Madam—?"

"Don't look at me. I wasn't in on this," she protested. "What's going on?"

"We found out when your birthday is, Captain," Martha explained. "I know you told me, but now we know for sure, and you can use it in the memoirs! All Claymore had before, was your death certificate!"

"But, today is not my birthday, my good woman," he began. "Though I do appreciate the thought."

"I know that, but we couldn't wait until the real day, and you've missed a LOT of birthdays, so this is just a make-up birthday," she retorted with a smile.

"Ahem!" Claymore cleared his throat.

"I was getting to it!" Martha glared at the landlord and turned her attention back to the ghost and her employer. "We wouldn't have known if Claymore hadn't found a strongbox with a bunch of your papers, including the Gregg Family Bible. I think that makes up for him messing up getting day wrong the first time around."

"Hey!"

"Well you did," Candy and Jonathan said together.

"So we decided to give you a catch up one for all the ones you missed, and give you presents just like a real birthday." Candy added.

"But on April 8th, you get another party... with another cake!" chimed in Jonathan.

"So... Why wasn't I informed of all this?" Carolyn asked.

The kids exchanged glances and then shrugged in unison and looked at Martha. "Uh... we dunno?"

"It came up rather suddenly..." Claymore said nervously. "I... well, I found the Bible and some other stuff in the strongbox only yesterday... Honestly, Captain, if I had known I had it, I would have given it back to you... and say... there are some other papers and logs too... so don't hurt me... uhm... maybe I better... And, really, I THOUGHT I had given you all the papers AND the Bible earlier, and then I found this..."

"Claymore, stop blithering..." the Captain commanded, rolling his eyes. "I'm not angry with you."

"Really?" The little man squeaked in relief under his breath. "That's a first."

After he mentally counted to fifteen, the Captain explained, "The Bible you gave Mrs. Muir a few weeks ago was my MOTHER'S family Bible; she and Aunt Violet were the last of their line. We did not record anything in it after my parents' marriage, unfortunately. It got rather - shoved by the wayside. This Bible holds the records of the Gregg family."

"Anyway, we figured we should make a party of it," Martha continued. "And there really wasn't time to tell you, Mrs. Muir... Besides, you were busy fussing with the Captain, and then making up... I mean working on the book, and we figured the Captain would know you were planning something anyway, and then it wouldn't be a surprise anymore."

"And, since the strongbox and all is helping you, kinda, it's for you, a little bit," Candy added.

"I see..." Carolyn said, nodding her head. "I think you were right, on both counts."

"Now that the whys and wherefores are settled..." Martha added, "What do you say we all sit down and you can open the strongbox, and then we can have some... make-up birthday cake?" She gave the seaman a wink. "I decided we didn't need a hundred and forty-four candles, Captain!"

"Nonsense. It would only be a hundred and forty candles."

"A hundred and forty-four — and a hundred and forty-five next month," Martha smirked. "I've seen the Bible. You haven't... lately. But it's here..." she added, gesturing to a large wrapped package on the coffee table. "Open it and see for yourself."

Quickly, the bright paper was torn away to reveal a massive tome. Reverently, Daniel touched the old book.

"It has been a long time since I have seen this."

"It's beautiful, Captain," Carolyn whispered. "It should be under a glass case — I promise I won't handle it any more than I have to... I'd be afraid of hurting it... But I have to see the page with the family history on it."

"Come sit next to me," the Captain said quietly, and turned the page over.

"All right."

"See?" he asked. "Here are my great, great grandparents, Edward and Melisande, and here's Ephraim Elias Gregg..."

"Founder of Schooner Bay Grammar School," Candy said immediately.

"Correct, Candy. Here..." He moved his hand further down the page. "...are my grandparents... then my mother and father... and here..." He stopped. "Born to Alexander and Camilla: Daniel Elias Alexander Gregg, April 8th, 1825... And here..." He choked out, "...Is where my father recorded my mother's death, I know it was in childbirth, but you didn't say that in those days. And here..." He pointed. "...Is where my Aunt Violet recorded my father's death at sea, two years later, to the day." He started to close the book, but Carolyn stopped him.

"There's another entry, there."

"'Tis nothing important."

"Yes it is!" Gently she turned the page back over. "November 13, 1869. The day you died, Captain."

"Someone filled that in. I don't know who it was," Daniel said stiffly. "I'm just glad they didn't write down the erroneous account of my death, or by thunder, I would figure out a way to remove it."

"Are — are any of MY ancestors listed?" Claymore dared to squeak.

"Hmm... let me see... Here's Norbert Gregg..." The Captain stopped. "I don't see any more Greggs that could be related to your father — and he moved here when you were a boy. As I always expected. No proof of any kinship to me, Claymore."

"I am, too... and one of these days you are going to let me explain how," Claymore pouted. "That just means people got tired of writing things down. In Bibles, anyway."

"Let's not argue and spoil a lovely day," Carolyn interjected.

"I think that's a fine idea," the ghost answered, giving her a long look.

"Me, too," Claymore answered, wiping his brow.

"Speaking of writing, there were another couple of your logs in the box," Martha interjected.

"And a map of all the property bordering Gull Cottage as it was in your day," Jonathan added.

"And I saw some kind of little book," Candy said. "I didn't get a chance to see what was written in it, but it might be good for the memoirs, too."

"I'll go get the cake," Martha said, rising. "Candy, Jonathan, you two get the plates and forks, please. They are on the counter. Claymore, you can help me bring in the coffee things."

"Okay," Claymore said meekly.

"Aye-aye!" they saluted, hurrying to the kitchen. The ghost and Mrs. Muir looked after them, and then to the rest of the contents of the strongbox.

"I can't believe how much information there is here!" Carolyn exclaimed. "There's a great deal we can use for the memoirs, Captain, if you are willing, but I don't know how we are going to keep it all straight — let alone what you will remember after you have gone through all of this!"

"As I said, we might need a sequel, Madam." He winked and grinned as he joined her in delving through the contents. "Hmm. Blast. There's one log I haven't been able to find, and I hoped it would be here."

"How many logs and maps DID you make during your lifetime, Captain?"

"One per voyage."

"I see. But you lost some along the way?"

"In much the same way my Georgian tea service was 'lost,' I imagine."

"I'm sorry, Captain. But at least Claymore got the tea service back for you, even if he didn't know he did and you had to help him. Maybe your missing log will show up someday, too. In the meantime, we certainly have a great deal of reference material now."

"Indeed we do, but as I have mentioned, I have thought more stories, which unfortunately I did not record anywhere, that I can remember, unless they are in that log I haven't found."

"Blast. I did hear you say that. Well, perhaps we can work out something. In the meantime, we need to concentrate on what we can do, not begrudge the things we can't do, or it will take all the fun away!"

Daniel Gregg smiled over at her. "You are having fun now? Really?"

"This is without a doubt the most fascinating project I have had the pleasure to work on in ages," Carolyn beamed. Her eyes met the ghost's; for a moment, no one else existed.

"There's more presents," Jonathan's excited voice reminded them, as he came back into the room with the plates and put them on the coffee table.

"I can hardly believe you managed to put this all together in just a day!" Carolyn exclaimed. "Cake, decorations, presents!"

"Well, since we get a chef's discount from Mr. Peavey, I DO try and keep the makings of sweet things, not just cherry pie stuff, either, around," Martha confessed. "And, we might have had a little bit of help on the presents part. Almost divine assistance, you might say."

"Oh?" the Captain asked.

"Open that big box and I'll explain," she promised.

Obediently, the seaman took the heavy parcel and divested it of its covering, revealing the tape recorder.

"Martha! Did you go to Skeldale or—?" Mrs. Muir began, excitement lighting her face.

The older woman grinned. "No. I took a raffle chance at the church. Normally, I don't gamble, but it was for a good cause and first prize did sound good — Theater tickets for the Country Dinner Playhouse in Keystone and dinner for two. It would be nice to go out and eat someone else's cooking, not just rely on the popcorn machine at the movie house! But I won second prize instead. The tape recorder. The ticket was just a dollar. All and all I guess it was the best dollar I ever spent."

"Like the dollar you bought the scrimshaw with in 1847, Captain!" Jonathan pointed out helpfully.

"Don't remind me," Claymore muttered. "I still have that parasol. Ollie Wilkins wouldn't take it back!"

"And, the other little box is blank tapes," Candy added eagerly. "We stopped on the way home from school and Jonathan and I had enough from our allowances to get a package of them."

"Forgive me, my dears, but why is this so exciting?" Daniel frowned.

"Because, with this recorder, you can dictate notes when I'm asleep or if I have to be elsewhere, and I can work from the tape. We'll be able to go faster," Carolyn said. "It won't be the same as listening to you 'live,' naturally, but in the long run, this should make things easier."

Stroking his chin, the ghost looked at the circle of faces around him; all of them delighted with the gizmo and decided to give it a shot, for their sakes and for the book. Gingerly, he got the machine out of its box.

"I checked. It came with batteries included, and they work," Martha informed the spirit. "You can plug it in, but I've figured out you like to walk and dictate, so it being portable too, is great."

"They're probably cheapies that won't last long," Claymore put in. "You might want to pick up spares."

The seaman nodded absently and allowed the kids to have the fun of putting the tape in and unwinding the microphone.

"Now, all you have to do is press play and record together," Candy instructed, "and then talk into the mike."

"Go on, let's hear you!" Jonathan urged him.

Somewhat dubiously, the ghost took the microphone in one hand and gestured to depress the two buttons. "In Xanadu Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome did decree where Alph the sacred river ran in caverns measureless to man down to the sunless sea." He fell silent and hit the stop button. Jonathan reached over and rewound the tape.

Let's see how you sound," the boy enthused.

A moment later, Daniel's rich tones were heard again, but were soon covered by a rumble of thunder.

"Martha, I fear you won a pig in a poke," the ghost scowled. "The device is faulty. It makes me sound — inebriated."

"No, Captain, you sound just like you," Carolyn smiled.

"Nonsense," the Captain sniffed. "I know how I sound. I can hear myself talk, even if I am a spirit!"

"Really, Captain, you sound just like yourself," Candy insisted. "Listen. Come on, Jonathan."

"Come on, what?"

"Let's sing a song into the microphone and show the Captain."

"Oh, okay... But what do we sing?"

"How about Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star?"

"All right."

Pressing the buttons, the children sang the first verse, and then stopped the tape, rewound it and hit 'play' again. Their voices came pouring out, just as heard a few moments before.

The ghost nodded his head. "I see you weren't humoring me, after all. The recorder is indeed accurate. Amazing... I just never knew I sounded like that. I'm..."

"You have a beautiful voice, Captain," Martha sighed. "I could listen to you talk all day."

"I'd just as soon not," Claymore added under his breath.

"So, what do you think of the idea, Captain?" Mrs. Muir asked.

"I think it is marvelous," he said. "And I heard that, Claymore. Though getting used to this contraption may take a bit of time, I think, finally, everything is going to work out. Perhaps, life does have a plan, after all!"

"I meant to ask you, Captain," Martha interjected. "Do you think you will be able to make use of anything else in the strongbox? We really haven't gone through it very carefully. It seemed wrong somehow to pry through your personal papers too much. And we WERE excited about finding the Bible and then winning the raffle."

"I really need to go through it, Martha. I have no idea yet."

"I'd like to help with that, Captain," Carolyn said quietly. "Your memory is fantastic, but I still need all the documentation I can get." A slight flush stained her cheeks. If she told the whole truth, the notion of getting to know this man better, reading his most private papers, held great allure.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," the Captain assured her.

"Can... May we eat your almost-birthday cake and look through the box at the same time?" Jonathan begged.

"Go on and eat, but I don't want to risk crumbs or frosting on the papers," his mother said. "So, the two activities will be kept separate."

"Oh... uh... no, we can wait," Jonathan said, shrugging his shoulders. "Now that we know the Captain can eat, at least a little, he needs to have his own cake with us, so we should see what else is in the box first."

Daniel needed no further invitation to begin pulling out items. He tried to hurry, but seeing these treasures again slowed his pace as he savored the memories they brought back.

As Jonathan had mentioned earlier, there was a map showing the original boundaries of all the property surrounding Gull Cottage and the spirit took some time examining this item. Next came the house's original blueprints, drawn in Daniel's own hand.

"Another treasure map?" the little boy asked.

The spirit shook his head. "Not to you, but to me... priceless. The Gull Cottage blueprints... I thought I had lost these forever."

"I didn't take them!" Claymore said defensively.

"Claymore, stop defending yourself before you are accused," the Captain scolded him.

"I just figured you would," the other man answered sullenly. "What else is in there?"

"This looks like an autograph album," the Captain answered, pulling out a small four by six book. "My Aunt Violet's actually. I can't imagine how this got here. And this is the last item..." he paused. "It... I think it's my aunt's diary. Hard to believe after all this time, but I think I recognize the cover. I can remember her writing in it, in the evenings."

"What does it say?" Candy asked. "I use mine for all sorts of things."

"Like writing how much you looove Mark Helm—" Jonathan started to tease.

"Oh, be quiet," Candy retorted. "I was over him faster than I got over my last cold!"

"Kids," Carolyn warned.

"To be honest, I have no idea. She kept it so private that it never seemed quite proper to read the book," the ghost frowned. "I suppose after all this time, it would hardly matter..."

"I think she would understand, Captain," Carolyn smiled. "And I would love to have a bit more information about you growing up here in Schooner Bay... from another person's viewpoint. And it is real documentation we could use for the book."

"Hmm... I see..." the Captain mused, stroking his beard. "I concede your point, my dear."

"Just a paragraph or two for now?" Carolyn coaxed him.

"All right," the seaman answered. "I suppose nothing she has written could be terribly embarrassing." Opening the book, he began to read.

"Dear Diary,

Today begins a new chapter in my life. No — I have not been asked for my hand in marriage — for no one but a widower with eight children would possibly consider a thirty-year-old spinster for marriage! And why would they, when they can have an eighteen-year-old girl in their prime? Nay, but God does somehow manage to compensate. Not a wife, but I will be trying, for want of a better term, motherhood, long after I gave up hope for such a thing. My dear sister's boy, Daniel, is now living with me. So much has happened so fast, it seems! First Camelia's death only two years ago (there are times it still seems like yesterday) and now, only a week past, Alexander, my brother-in-law's death at sea, followed by Daniel trying to run away, rather than being what he referred to as a "burden" to anyone. I think I have finally convinced him that living with me will be the best thing for both of us. So he is now arrived, along with his treasured possessions — his rocks, model ships, slingshot, marbles, tin soldiers, a mongrel puppy and some small personal effects that belonged to dear Camilla and Alexander. I did say "no" to the snake. The household is livelier already... and I have to wonder what the next few years will bring. God has his plan, and I can't deny him that, but with Daniel in the house, I believe everything around here is due to get much more interesting... in a good way. I think perhaps the boy wonders if I truly want him here. I do, Diary, so much! I just hope I can convince HIM of this! I pray to God that I can be an acceptable 'replacement mother' for him, for already I love him as if he were my own son."

Closing the volume, the seaman, clearly moved almost to tears, remarked, "And she was very much a mother to me. Her image is far clearer in my memory than that of my parents."

"She sounds wonderful," Carolyn choked out. "I wish I could have met her!"

Claymore thought about asking if she had become a ghost, but thought better of it and held his silence.

"I wish you had, too, dear lady. She would have adored you... All of you." He paused and glanced at Claymore, as if debating whether or not to qualify his statement. However, considering his aunt's soft heart, he fancied she would have taken to that weak-willed ninny.

No one said anything for a moment, but finally Martha broke the silence. "Well now, I don't know about anyone else, but I think it's time for cake. Captain, if you can put down your papers for a few minutes, we'll be right back with it and the ice cream. And don't you dare say you can't at least have at least another nibble... I've waited too long to make good on your request for chocolate cake with coconut icing!"

"Yum!" Jonathan and Candy shouted, and darted for the kitchen.

As they waited for the others to return, Carolyn instinctively reached for the Captain's hand, feeling as if he needed that comfort. For the briefest moment, she thought she had actually managed to make contact, but a second later, could not feel his hand under hers. Somewhat abashed, she withdrew.

"I appreciate your good thoughts," The seaman whispered, just as Claymore jumped up and dimmed the lights. A second later, Candy, Jonathan and Martha came marching into the room triumphantly.

Happy BirthDAYS to you!

Happy BirthDAYS to You!

Happy Birthday, dear Captain!

Happy Birthday to you!

"Blow out the candles, Captain Gregg!" Candy shouted.

"And no pinching them out!" Claymore said, remembering the previous November.

Looking rather amused, the ghost blew all the candles out in one breath.

"Looks like you'll get your wish, Captain," Carolyn noted.

"Who is to say that I have not?"

"What do you mean, Captain Gregg?" Candy piped up. "I always have a wish to make on my birthday."

"What more could I wish for than to have you all here, keeping my afterlife interesting?" he smiled.

"OH! I see!" Candy nodded. "Well that's my favorite wish, too! To be here with you and Mom and Jonathan and Martha and Scruffy, for always!"

"Me, three!" Jonathan shouted, not to be outdone.

"And me," Martha smiled. "Unless Mr. Peavey has other ideas, of course, I never want to be anywhere else but here in Gull Cottage."

"My wish goes almost without saying," Carolyn smiled. "I'm the happiest I have ever been here with all of you — and I'll add that I want the Captain's memoirs to be a success. What about you, Claymore?"

"Well, er..." he dithered.

"Out with it, Claymore," the Captain ordered. "Answer the lady."

"A small fortune would be — nice?" he replied in a tiny voice. "And — er — well, I do not want to live here, so I guess — er, that is, that maybe you don't move? You're good tenants, after all. And maybe friends?"

"Friends and tenants, Claymore?" The Captain asked, raising one brow. "You want both?"

"Well, why not?" he demanded in a rare fit of spirit.

"Why not, indeed?" the Captain smiled.

"I get a fortune? You know the book is going to be a hit?"

The seaman sighed. "I was referring to tenants AND friends. As to the fortune, that is up to you. The book, if it is a hit, will benefit Mrs. Muir. It will, of course, be one, given the author and the topic."

"You're fairly sure of yourself, Captain. How do you know people will really like it?"

"That's easy," Martha started. "It's about a fascinating, dynamic man..."

"Who's had tons of adventures..." Jonathan put in.

"And he's a hero in Schooner Bay..." Candy added.

"Right," Carolyn went on. "Captain Gregg is... well, he's the Captain, that's all and besides, I'm thinking positive. Everyone is going to love the book — that is if I can write it well enough to make his life jump right off the page."

The ghost smiled smugly.

"Well, he's good at making ME jump," Claymore shivered.

"Watch it, you..." the mariner started.

"Captain," Carolyn interrupted. "Why don't we have some more cake and coffee and you can tell the children the story you told me earlier... about the time when you were in New Zealand and your crew kept insisting they had seen a mermaid?"

"A mermaid? Really? Wow!" Candy breathed, enchanted at once by the idea.

"It was in about 1855..." Daniel started, and his warm velvet voice had soon carried them far away from the living room at Gull Cottage.

XXX

Having the tape recorder proved to be a true Godsend. The book came together with amazing speed in the days following the party. Carolyn silently realized that even if the manuscript did not sell, she would not trade the time writing it for a million dollars. Learning more about the magnificent man who meant so much to her family, to her, working so closely with him, letting him become part of her creative process, all were things she cherished. The writer kept hoping he would slip and call her Carolyn again, thus allowing her to use his name, but despite the growing bond between them, Captain Gregg maintained nineteenth-century formality.

For his part, the spirit had not felt so alive in years. When the final page had been written and proofed in May, his joy and relief were mixed with profound sadness. He would have been glad for this project to never end.

Summer was usually a time that flew by too quickly, at least for the children. However, both Daniel and Carolyn found it moving at a snail's pace, with each day centered on the mail delivery. Finally, in July, a letter from her publisher arrived.

The entire family gathered around as Carolyn opened the envelope with trembling hands. "This is ridiculous. I've sent things in before. I shouldn't be so on edge," she scolded herself.

"But, this is about the Captain!" Jonathan said, as if that answered everything.

"And, this is a whole BOOK," Candy added, not to be outdone.

"Just hurry," Martha said.

Swallowing her fears, Carolyn got the letter out of its container and held it up to read, almost wanting to close her eyes to do so, as ridiculous as that might be. "We are pleased to inform you that we will be publishing The Memoirs of a Sea Captain: The Life of Daniel Gregg. Enclosed is an advance check for—" Her breath caught, "Fifteen hundred dollars."

Gull Cottage was filled with cheers. On pure reflex, Carolyn threw her arms around the Captain... and for just a moment, she KNEW she could feel him in her embrace; yet, as before, it only lasted for a second or two.

Naturally, they called Claymore immediately to relay the good news, and then, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. The Captain had gotten definite "I'm busy" vibes whenever his thoughts had turned toward Dashire for several months, now, but he decided that he would attend the next spectral fraternity meeting and share his splendid news. Perhaps Dash, or even Sean, would be there, by some strange chance. He had recently received word that the group was not pleased that he had neglected showing up for the scheduled meetings. They might have gotten similar notices. Dashire, especially, hated the blasted things, and no one really knew where Sean's wanderings took him, or where he was. In any case, he had to tell someone in his spectral circle!

"This calls for another party," Martha announced.

"Indeed it does," Daniel beamed. Then, more seriously, he turned to face Mrs. Muir. "I want to thank you, my dear, for this. For — everything."

Their eyes met in a look that made them both think of moments in dreams, and then, they looked away.