HIGH TIDE
Vevi had hoped to return soon to Cabell’s pond to search for Clover.
However, she had no chance to do so the next day, for Miss Gordon told
the Brownie Scouts they were to have an outing at Brant’s Point.
“We’ll picnic there and gather shells for our collection,” she outlined
plans. “Vevi will have a chance too to give her bird report.”
Vevi said nothing, but she felt rather queer inside. She had been too
busy to give the required report a single thought.
“I’ll bet Vevi won’t have one ready!” teased Jane.
“Oh, yes, I will,” Vevi insisted. “Just you wait and see.”
After the breakfast dishes had been washed and the beds made, the girls
all piled into Mrs. William’s big sedan. The tide was low, so it was
possible to drive along the beach without the tires sinking in.
Before long, the Brownies sighted the tall lighthouse directly ahead.
Often at night the girls had observed its revolving ray blink on and
off.
“Brant’s Point light has saved many a ship at sea,” Miss Gordon told
the troop. “And the lives of countless birds.”
Rosemary asked her how a lighthouse could save birds.
“Some of the older lighthouses have beacons that burn steadily,” Miss
Gordon explained. “Such a light always seems to attract birds. Some
circle the light towers until from sheer exhaustion they drop into the
sea. Others fly against the windows and batter their wings.”
The teacher went on to say that birds were much less likely to be
attracted by Brant Light, which blinked off at intervals. Also, the
tower had projections or shelves where a tired bird might rest in its
long flight southward.
“May we visit the lighthouse?” Connie asked as the girls unloaded the
lunch hampers at the point.
“Federal regulations prohibit visitors,” the teacher replied
regretfully. “Anyhow, we’ll not have too much time here. After we’ve
had our lunch and gathered a few shells, it will be time to leave.”
Mrs. Williams remarked that they must under no circumstance over-stay
their time. “I’ve been told that the tide comes in very strong and fast
here by the lighthouse,” she said. “By late afternoon, this beach will
be almost entirely covered with water.”
“Is it safe to be here?” asked Sunny anxiously.
Mrs. Williams assured her that it always would be possible to scamper
to higher ground.
“But if we should stay too long, my car might be trapped,” she
explained, “for there is no roadway out. We’ll leave very soon. Then
there will be no danger.”
The Brownies helped unload the lunch baskets and set the table with
paper plates. Then, with Miss Gordon’s permission, they peeled off
shoes and stockings and started to look for shells.
“Don’t wade far out into the water,” the teacher warned. “The surf is
strong here now that the tide has turned. There’s a tricky undertow.”
Waves came in with a great roar, nibbling greedily at the sand. The
Brownies had no desire to wade out more than a few feet.
“See what I’ve found!” cried Connie. She held up a very attractive
shell with a half-moon opening. “It’s not like the others we have.”
When she showed it to Miss Gordon, the teacher told her that it was a
moon snail shell.
The Brownies never had seen the waves bring up so many nice shells.
Soon Jane dug up a yellowish-white whelk marked by spiral ribs. The
other girls found unbroken clam shells and a brown one which not even
Miss Gordon could identify.
After the Brownies had wearied of searching, Miss Gordon and Mrs.
Williams set out the food.
“It will soon be time for Vevi’s bird report,” Jane reminded the group.
“I’ll bet she doesn’t have it ready.”
Vevi pretended not to hear. She had boasted that she would be able to
tell about a special bird. Actually, the only ones she had seen were
those on which the other girls already had reported.
She ate her sandwich very fast. While the others were finishing their
cake, she slipped off behind one of the sand dunes. Vevi thought she
would walk toward the lighthouse. Perhaps she would see a special sea
bird on which she could report. But if not, she would be so late in
getting back that Miss Gordon and the Brownies might decide to postpone
asking for her talk. Meanwhile, Miss Gordon began to tell the Brownies
about some of the strange habits of birds. She said no one knew why
they migrated from one part of the country to another, or how they
found their way.
“Year after year they’ll return to the same place, often the same
nest,” she declared. “A bird is guided by keen eyesight, but also
apparently by instinct.”
Miss Gordon advised the girls to observe birds carefully, taking note
of points that would help in making an identification.
“Always notice a bird’s size,” she instructed. “Remember that male and
female birds vary in color and marking. Notice wing motion too and
whether the bird walks, runs or hops on the ground.”
By this time waves were breaking higher and higher on the beach. Mrs.
Williams remarked uneasily that the tide seemed to be coming in faster
than she had expected.
“Perhaps we should start back to the cottages,” she suggested.
As the girls began to gather up their belongings, Miss Gordon noticed
Vevi’s absence.
“Now where has she gone?” she inquired. “She was here only a moment
ago.”
“She went off so she wouldn’t have to give her bird report,” Jane
declared. “I see her wandering around over there behind the lighthouse.”
“I’ll go after her,” offered Connie.
“Call to her instead,” advised Mrs. Williams. “We really have no time
to waste.”
Connie shouted Vevi’s name several times. “Hurry up!” she yelled. “The
tide is rolling in, and we want to start home.”
“Coming,” Vevi answered.
Despite the urging to hurry however, she kept loitering by a large sand
dune. She seemed to be examining something she had found there.
“That old slow poke!” Jane exclaimed. “I’ll get her!”
“No, she’s coming now,” Mrs. Williams said. “I want everyone to stay
here. Gather up everything and bring it to the car.”
Connie’s mother regretted now that she had not turned her car around
before parking it on the sand.
She had not realized that the hard, firm beach which had provided her
with a safe roadway could disappear so fast.
Although ample space remained along shore for the return drive, not
much area was left in which to turn the car around.
“I’m going ahead to move the car,” Mrs. Williams said.
Connie and Sunny went along with her. When they reached the car they
noticed that the larger waves were breaking only a short distance from
the rear car wheels.
“Oh, the tide is coming in so fast!” Connie exclaimed. “Will we make
it, Mother?”
“We’ll be all right once we turn around,” Mrs. Williams replied. She
was more worried though, than she cared to have the children know.
Quickly she started the car and swung the steering wheel. The
automobile moved slightly uphill into loose sand.
Now Mrs. Williams had not intended to swing in such a wide arc. Nor had
she realized that the sand was quite so soft.
Slower and slower crept the car, its engine laboring.
“Keep going, Mother!” shouted Connie. She could see that the auto was
about ready to stop in the deep sand.
Mrs. Williams shifted into another gear, but the car would not pull.
With a gasping chug, it came to a standstill. The rear wheels kept
spinning, but there was no traction.
The car would not budge. They were stuck fast in the sand with the tide
rolling in!