Chapter 3: The Old Man and the Beach

Walter liked his place at the beach. Here he could hear the crashing of the surf and gaze out over the waves as they came in to break themselves over the beach.

Days like this weren't so bad - those rare days when the malignant thing growing inside him left him in some peace and he could be free to think.

He didn't mind this business of dying. All the people that he had cared for were long gone anyway and he had seen - and done - everything that he had wanted. He just wished that the dying part of it wouldn't take so long and be so damned inconvenient.

He daydreamed of days and years gone past, and of his lost loved ones …

For young Emily Van Dort, the morning seemed to drag on forever. Sometimes she didn't mind the church services, but there were other days when the benches were extra hard and the sermon was more drawn-out and boring than usual. This was one of those days...

Then … after that … was lunch. She liked the weeks when Gramma Nell took Sunday lunch with them, but today was an Everglot day.

Grandmother and Grandfather Everglot were much, much less fun. No contraband candy slipped to Emily and Willie after the meal, no loud funny stories, and certainly no children talking and laughing at the table. As far as that pair was concerned, children were to be neither seen NOR heard. She sighed. It was going to be a long lunch...

But, eventually, the dreadful meal was over with, and she was free to go at last.

"Are you sure you want to go for a walk now?" Victoria asked. "It looks like it's going to rain."

"I'll bring the umbrella, Mama," Emily promised.

She had been gone for ten minutes when her mother noticed the umbrella still parked in its stand.

"Oh, that child." she sighed.

Since her mishap at the docks Emily was no longer allowed to go there with her father. She had tried appealing the decision to him, but even he was disinclined to argue the matter with her mother.

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin, but you can't really blame her. You got really, really sick from that dunking, and we almost lost you. Just give it some time... "

That wasn't good enough for her. Fortunately she was still allowed to go out walking on her own and the beach wasn't far away. It wasn't nearly as much fun as going to the docks had been, but it was better than nothing.

Emily therefore had made a pastime of going to the beach whenever she could. She liked to look at the ocean and to imagine what might be just over the horizon.

There were lots of interesting things to see and other things that could be studied and then drawn in her sketchbook. Or just studied...

As she walked along the water's edge she noticed a new structure placed just above the high-water mark halfway down the beach.

It was a small wooden shelter with someone seated inside beneath an open canopy.

As she drew closer she could see that it was an elderly man who looked somehow familiar. After some thought, Emily realized that it was the old man that she and her father had met the day she fell into the water.

She knew that it was the same gentleman because of the white captain's hat and the bushy white mutton-chop whiskers that he wore. His eyes were the lightest, brightest shade of blue that she had ever seen and he was very thin, almost skeletal in appearance.

As she passed by, Emily said 'hello' and waved to him, but he barely acknowledged her. Too busy thinking of something else she thought. She walked a bit further down the beach and then found a comfortable spot to sit down.

Intrigued by the design of the little building, she pulled out her sketchbook and began to draw.

Under the roof of his shelter Walter watched the waves. The water was darker than it had been before - bad weather was coming. He looked up into the sky and scrutinized the gathering clouds: it was going to rain, and soon.

He glanced down the beach and noticed the young girl drawing in her book. I hope that she brought her umbrella, he thought, and then he turned his attention back to the usual things.

She had just finished roughing out her second sketch when the first large raindrop spattered on the page. Emily looked up and, too late, remembered where she had left the umbrella. The rain began to fall as she helplessly looked around her.

After a few seconds of sitting in the pouring rain, she realized that the old man was shouting in her direction.

"Would you like to come in from the rain, lassie?" he called out to her. Gratefully, she picked up her book and ran for cover.

"Thank you, sir" she said to the man as she huddled beside him under the roof. "Always happy to help a damsel in distress," he grinned. Then he took a second look at her and smiled.

"You're the young lady from the dock," he said. "The one who knows the difference between boats and ships."

"Yes, sir," Emily said. "I remember you, too."

He paused. "You're the Van Dort child," he recalled. "Do you have a first name?"

"It's Emily," she said.

The old man looked startled for a moment. "Oh," he said quietly after a few seconds. "What a lovely name."

"Thank you." And she smiled. "What's yours?"

"The name is Barrett," he answered. "Walter Barrett."

"Are you a sea captain, Mr. Barrett?" Emily asked, eyeing the white hat.

"I was," he replied, "but I'm retired now. And you can call me Walter if you like."

"I don't know about that," she said. "Papa says that it's not proper for children to call grown-ups by their first names."

"Respect for one's elders is a good quality," he smiled. "Well, then, you can call me Captain Barrett, or just 'Captain' if you prefer."

"Okay, Captain," she said.

They stood under the roof, not talking, until the rain eased and then stopped.

Emily looked up at the sky. Over towards her home the sky was already beginning to clear.

"Thank you for the shelter, Captain Barrett," Emily said.

"My pleasure," the old man replied. "My castle is your castle."

"Bye!" Emily said, and then she ran off towards home.

He watched her go until she disappeared from sight.

"How was your day today, Pumpkin?" Victor asked.

Emily looked up from her sketchbook. "It was pretty good."

"Did you get caught in the rain? Your mother tells me you forgot the umbrella."

Her face flushed. "I didn't mean to."

He laughed. "I'm sure you didn't. So how wet did you get?"

"I didn't," she answered, then she told her father about Captain Barrett and his beachside shelter.

"What did you say his name was again?"

"Captain Walter Barrett," Emily replied. "He used to be a sea captain."

"Oh," said Victor. "So that's why he knew us…"

Emily gave her father a strange look. "Why?"

"Never mind," he quickly answered.

"Is there something wrong - should I stay away from him, Papa?"

Victor thought for a few moments. "No," he said at last. "Captain Barrett's a fine man. Just don't bother him if he doesn't feel like company."

"Okay," she said.

He got up to leave. "But say 'hello' to him for me the next time you see him," he said.

"All right, Papa," the child said, then she put her head down and resumed her sketching.

Seven or eight days passed before the Captain was able to resume his place at the beach. The thing eating away inside him had given him a very difficult week and, even now, he didn't feel well. But he was tired of being stuck in the cottage without a break and he missed seeing the ocean.

After two false starts he was finally able to drag himself out to his seat by the water

Midway through the afternoon he spied a small figure walking along the edge of the water. As he had hoped, it was the Van Dort girl and she stopped to say hello.

"And how are you, lassie?" he asked her.

"Very well, thank you, Captain. It's a nice day, isn't it?"

"It is," he agreed.

"Oh. And my father says hello," she added.

"Does he, now?" the Captain said. "Please give him my regards."

She smiled. "Okay. Bye!" And she turned and ran down the beach.

He smiled to himself. And then the pain struck.

The Captain stiffened as the wave of nausea hit him. He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to cry out. God, he thought, I can't take much more of this.

The sweat beaded on his brow as he fought the pain. Like a tide, it swept over him and threatened to overwhelm him but he was able to hold on until it dulled, then diminished, and then finally left him.

After a minute or two he was able to regain his breath and he slumped, drained and half-spent, in his chair.

He must have dozed off after that, as the next thing he heard was the sound of her voice. The Captain opened his eyes and looked down the beach. She was still a distance off yet, but she was singing to herself and the wind had carried the sound to him.

The child was carrying her sketchbook, and from the way of her walk, it was evident to him that she was in a happy mood.

As she had before, she stopped and greeted him. "Hello again, Captain," she said with a big smile.

"Hello again, lassie," he said in response. "How did your drawing go today?"

"Pretty well," she said. "Do you want to see them?"

"Why, yes," the Captain replied. "I do."

Emily smiled, and then pulled out the book and showed him her latest sketches. He looked at her work and marveled. The child had a fine eye for detail and the proportioning was exactly right.

"This is very good," he commented. "You have a definite talent."

"Thanks," she said shyly. "I like to draw."

"I can see that," he agreed. "And you work at it … that's a good thing."

He leafed further through the book and spotted the drawing she had made of his shelter. "Oh, this looks familiar," he commented.

"I hope you don't mind," Emily said. "I liked the way it looked."

"Me too," he said.

"Did you build it yourself?" she asked. "It wasn't here before."

"Yes, I did." It had cost him hours of painful labor, but it had been worth it.

He continued. "I've only been back here a short while … been away for a long time, but now I've come home. To stay..."

"It's good to have a home," Emily said. "Well, I've got to go, now. See you later, Captain Barrett."

"'Bye," the Captain said, and then he closed his eyes. He could feel another attack coming...

Emily came by often in the next few weeks. Victor was almost always busy at work and her mother was preoccupied with William and the endless demands of her own parents, so the girl was frequently left alone to amuse herself as best she could.

With so much free time on her hands, Emily made many trips to the beach and Captain Barrett came to look forward to her visits.

She loved to hear stories about his life on the sea and about the things he had seen and done during his travels. He liked to look at her drawings and to hear her laugh…

There were days when the Captain could not make it out to the beach and other days when bad weather or family commitments kept Emily away, but on most days they were able to visit.

On one of the bad weather days, Emily found herself with nothing to do and, not knowing what else to draw, she decided to make a portrait of her friend from the dreams.

The first sketch didn't look at all like her, but the next two or three did, and by the time Emily finished sketching she had captured the likeness of her friend exactly. She tucked the best two or three in her book, tore up the rest, and then forgot all about them.

Two days later, the weather turned nice again and she was finally able to get out to the beach to see her old friend. There were days when he was absent and she had wondered if he would be there that day, but he was.

The Captain greeted her with a wide smile. "Ah, Miss Van Dort," he said. "We meet again, at last..."

"Hi, Captain Barrett," she said happily.

"And what do you have for me today?" he asked.

Emily pulled out her sketchbook. "Here's some pictures of ships I've been doing."

The Captain flipped through the pages. "Ah ... nice work. You've got a good eye for details," he commented.

A loose sheet of paper fell from the book. "I've got it," he said, catching the errant page with his free hand.

The Captain glanced at the sheet as he replaced it. A finely drawn blue-pencil sketch, it was a full-face portrait of an exquisitely pretty dark-haired girl. Something about her seemed familiar and he took another, closer look.

It was the face of his long-dead daughter.

His mind went blank and he rocked backwards, nearly dropping the book.

"Are you all right?" Emily asked him.

Walter was speechless for a few more seconds and then he found his voice again.

"Uh ... well ... uh ... yes, I'm okay," he stammered.

She looked at him suspiciously.

"No, I'm fine," the Captain insisted, forcing himself to sound calm and casual.

"Uh, who is she?" he asked.

"Just somebody I imagined," Emily lied.

Walter wasn't fooled.

"I see," he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "It is a very nice picture. May I buy it from you?"

She stared at him as though he had lost his mind.

"You don't have to buy it," she answered. "You can have it if you like it."

The Captain assured her that, yes, he liked it very much, so she gave it to him.

"I've got to go," she told him. "Mama will be worrying about me."

With a trembling hand, he waved good-bye as she walked away.

When she was safely gone, Walter braced himself and looked at the drawing again. Over thirty years had passed since he had last seen that sweet face, and his memory of it was much fuzzier than he liked.

As he studied the picture, tears began to well up in his eyes and a knot began to form in his throat. A half-minute or so later, he broke down completely and, for the first time in more than three decades, he cried.