The Sea is a Thief by David Parmelee Page B

offer nothing but heartache to any woman who shared his life.  They discouraged their daughter’s interest.  That didn’t stop her from seeking Beau out whenever she had the opportunity.   Beau rebuffed her, showing no reaction to her little public flirtations.  That didn’t stop her either.  Relentlessness was perhaps Nancy’s greatest virtue.     
    Edmund Bagwell dismounted.  “Are your mother and sister in, Beau?   Captain Sharpe here would like to meet them.  Captain Sharpe?” He held the reins of the Captain’s mount as he stepped to the ground.  
    The Captain removed his glove and extended his hand.  “Henry D. Sharpe,” he announced.  For a moment the words hung in the air.  
    Bagwell broke the silence. “Beau Daisey here is a capable fisherman.  All the boat captains here on the island tell me so.  You could do far worse than to have him aboard your ship, Captain.”  Beau cocked an eyebrow at Bagwell and showed a tight smile as he took Sharpe’s hand.  
    â€œI’ll enlist in the morning,” he said.  “Captain.”  He broke the handshake and turned towards the house.  “I’ll tell my mother…” With that the door opened, and Mary Daisey stepped forward.  
    â€œGentlemen,” she greeted them.  “Won’t you please come in?”
    Sam could breathe again.  Perhaps this visit might proceed without incident.  The group climbed the steps into the house.
    Anna Daisey could not recall hosting a group of visitors to equal this one.  When Mary spied the approaching men through the parlor curtains, she dispatched Anna to boil the kettle while she hastily put away her sewing.  This Sunday was a working day like any other.  Two dresses with petticoats were stowed upstairs to clear the room for guests.  As the teakettle heated, Anna measured out black tea and brought the good china cups and saucers down from their roost in the kitchen cupboard.  There weren’t many, but they would have to do.   Before she knew it, her mother swept into the kitchen to collect the tea tray, beckoning her into the front parlor.  She arrived to find Beau glaring uneasily at three men in Federal uniforms.  Among them was Sam Dreher.
    On this day he seemed to be standing a bit taller.  His jaw was squarer and his eyes more bright.  He smiled a quick smile that spoke only to her, silently whispering:   Shhh .   They must not know.   Her eyes retuned his confidence.  She knew Sam had not told his shipmates of the days they had spent together.  His good friend Ethan had guarded their secret.  Sam had told her how Ethan would take his part so that he could visit her.  Here indeed were Ethan, and Mr. Bagwell, and Sam’s Captain.  Her mother introduced her to Captain Sharpe.  She took his hand.  She curtsied to each gentleman in turn, then poured the tea and excused herself to the kitchen.  She was grateful for a few moments to collect her thoughts.  
    Henry Sharpe was charmed by the Daiseys’ little cottage, the first such he had entered on Chincoteague.  It was modest by any standard, but orderly and clean.  Everywhere there seemed to be carvings of ducks.  He took hold of one, a hooded merganser, with flaring neck feathers and a thin, hooked bill.  
    â€œMost well done,” he said, turning it over in his hands.  “Who is the carver?”  
    â€œIt’s mine,” Beau replied.  “They’re all mine.”  The Captain surveyed the room with its array of wooden ducks.  
    â€œIs this your trade?”
    Beau folded his arms across his broad chest.  “It would be my trade, sir, if men would give a dollar for any of them.  Many of us on Chincoteague carve ducks.  Others carve them only well enough to lure birds to their guns.”  
    The