Stories All Around Us.

 by Thomas Kies

I was coming up blank for this week’s Type M for Murder blog, so I did what I usually do when I’m mentally blocked, I went for a walk.  We live on an island here on the coast of North Carolina and no matter which direction I take, it’s beautiful.

Fate took me in the direction of the marina, just a few minutes away where there are picnic tables and benches that overlook the boats in their berths, the canal, and the entrance to Bogue Banks Sound.  But before I got there, I was hailed by one of our neighbors who was sitting outside her house enjoying the perfect weather.

We chatted, as neighbors will do, and she told me about her role in creating a “History Trail” throughout our little municipality.  One of the stories she told me was about a place up the beach that used to be the location of the Iron Steamer Pier. “Do you know that story?” she asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

I did not.

The Iron Steamer Pier was named for the SS Pevensey, an iron hulled, sidewheel steamer with a single deck and two masts and was schooner rigged.  It was built for speed and was used as a blockade runner for the Confederates during the Civil War.  The Pevensey had successfully run through the Union blockade near Wilmington and Cape Fear four times before their fateful last journey.

On June 9, 1864, they were carrying cargo for the Confederate army that consisted of arms, blankets, shoes, cloth, clothing, lead, and bacon. As before, they had left Bermuda with their cargo and were headed for Fort Caswell that guarded the port of Wilmington.  However, on this voyage, they found themselves too far north, off course and, unbeknownst to them, heading into Union waters.  

They stumbled across the path of the Union supply ship, the New Berne that began firing cannon shots at the Pevensey.  Still thinking they were close to Wilmington and Confederate territory; they aimed their bow directly for land…our little island. They ran aground about a hundred yards offshore, and immediately took to their lifeboats, leaving one sailor aboard their ship.

While his shipmates rowed for shore, and what they thought was safety, the last man aboard was given the task to blow up the ship and its cargo to keep it out of Union hands.  He rigged the boiler to explode, and it rendered the ship unrepairable.  He managed to survive and was placed under arrest by the Union sailors. 

The thirty-five-member crew who had escaped landed on Bogue Banks Island and thought they were safe. The crew was approached by a group on horseback who asked them why they’d blown up their ship.  “To keep it away from the damned Yankees!” they replied.  “How far are we from Fort Caswell?”

“Well, we ARE the damned Yankees.” And then they were promptly arrested and taken to the Union outpost at Fort Macon.

Is the dialogue accurate? I kind of made it up, but I write fiction, so sue me.

The Iron Steamer Pier, which was known for its fishing, was swept away by a hurricane some time ago and the wreckage of the Pevensey is still out there, still about a hundred yards offshore.  Sometimes, at low tide, you can still see some of what’s left of the paddlewheels.  

This part of the East Coast where we live has been called the Graveyard of the Atlantic.  The waters here are treacherous, the currents are strong, and sandbars seem to move at will rendering charts useless.  And of course, we’re a hurricane speedbump here so the weather adds another bit of spice.  Throw in pirates, scoundrels, and warfare and you have enough for a whole slew of historical novels  

My advice as a writer--keep your eyes and ears at the ready.  There are stories all around us. 

The Ghosts of Books Past

For some time now I've been thinking of my all-time favorite books and feel compelled to reread a number of them.

Thanks to Amazon it's easy to track down these old books that I've remembered for a lifetime. I still own a lot of them. My interest is more than a nostalgia kick, although I am a nostalgic person. This obsession was stirred up by my whimsical treacherous muse who pointed out that I needed to improve characterization.

The books I especially admire were mostly commercial successes, but that not why they stuck with me. I loved the central character in each one. But beyond that, these characters had a huge heart-wrenching problem worth wresting with.

For that matter, it seems to me the old writing books had a lot more information than the manuals I pick up today. I'm re-reading Maren Elwood's Characters Make Your Story. It's outstanding. It's tough reading and I don't think I understood some of her points until I had written several books.

Elwood insists that characters come from within. Spinning them from thin air doesn't work. You can give a man a quirky car, some semi-handsome physical attributes, a few snarly snappy lines and he will still seem like everyone else's cardboard cut-outs. Ditto for Too Stupid To Live Heroines. You know. The ones who never call for back-up. Or run around saying, "Oh I'll show him!"

Here is a just of a few of these old, old books I'll re-read and why:

Green Dolphin Street--Elizabeth Goudge.  It's my all-time favorite whose theme touches a spiritual chord within me. Goudge, has the  ability to make unlovable multi-dimensional characters profoundly lovable.

Love Let Me Not Hunger--Paul Gallico. This is a hauntingly beautiful insight into the cloistered world of the circus. Who knew that this society fostered it's own royalty? What I remembered forever and forever was Mr. Albert, the animal trainer. How did Gallico so vividly create such a noble humble old man whose personal story broke my heart?

A Distant Trumpet--by Paul Horgan. A historical novel telling about the Indian wars and the relentless campaign to hunt down the Apaches. And for years, whenever we moved to another town, another library, or even when I was visiting relations, I went to the their library to look up General Alexander Upton Quade. I couldn't believe he wasn't real. After forty years went by, I found out this character was based on the autobiography and writings of General George Crook. Horgan told the‎ story from the Indians' point of view as well as the soldiers'.

Not As a Stranger--Morton Thompson. One of the great all-time medical novels. Not only was it informative, I had such hopes for the protagonist. He was destined to be one of the all-time great doctors.

Five Smooth Stones--Ann Fairbairn. One of the great social novels and one of the few that delved into subtle Northern racism. This was published in 1966 when the Civil Rights Movement was roiling America.

Rebecca--Daphne du Maurier. Need I say more? One of the great classic mysteries, which was the forerunner of the gothic novels. At one time I couldn't get enough of them.

There are some common denominators to all the books I've mentioned. They all have great plots. Every single author is a masterful story-teller. And for some reason they are all l-o-n-g.

Will these books still resonate with me forty years later? Will I still have the same insight? Stay tuned.