Inching across the still water under a full moon, the mood quieted as Santa Rosa faded behind them and Dark Isle loomed ahead. Twenty minutes after leaving the harbor, Ronnie throttled down, then killed the engines. “We’re in five feet of water here. This is okay?”
“Okay,” replied Diane.
A small dinghy was starboard and Ronnie unhooked it from the pontoon. Diane stepped into it first and found her balance. Mercer went second. “Watch your step,” she said to Lovely as Ronnie held her arm and guided her down. The dinghy rocked and Lovely tilted before Diane caught her and eased her onto the bench. Ronnie handed Diane three large canvas bags and said, “The surf will take you in but there is a paddle if you need it.”
The dinghy drifted away from the pontoon. Diane clicked on a flashlight and scanned the beach, which was thirty yards away. The shoreline and the entire island were pitch-black. She turned around and swept the light behind her to see the pontoon, as if making sure it and the team were still there. They were all leaning on the railing, watching, mesmerized. The moon came from behind a cloud and lit up the shore. Mercer took the paddle, a tool with which she had zero experience, and managed to splash some water. It wasn’t clear if her efforts were productive, but the dinghy seemed to be inching closer to land.
Lovely sat in the front, staring ahead, silent, unflinching as the boat rocked gently forward. As a child she had played in the water but never spent time on boats. That was work for the men: fishing, shrimping, trading with the merchants in The Docks and around the canneries. She had learned to swim and wasn’t afraid of the water, but that was so long ago. She thought of Nalla and her violent, horrifying arrival on this beach. Shipwrecked, naked, hungry, traumatized by the passage and then the storm. Nalla was never far from her thoughts.
Diane’s stomach was flipping, and she could not remember being so frightened, but at the same time the adrenaline was pumping. She was exactly where she wanted to be and she trusted Lovely to protect her. Mercer put the paddle away and tried to enjoy the moment.
The bottom of the dinghy scraped the sand. The waves quietly broke onto the beach. Lovely began undoing the laces on her boots, then removed them and rolled up her jeans to her knees. Her first words in a long time were “You stay here until I call. No lights.” Carefully, she worked one leg over the side, then slid into the ocean. The water was barely above her ankles. She took a canvas bag and gazed up and down the beach. Slowly, she began walking forward and was soon on wet sand.
The clouds were moving. When the moon peeked through, Diane and Mercer could see her clearly. When it disappeared they could barely see her outline.
Lovely walked halfway to the dunes, stopped, and found her spot. From the bag she removed a small tiki torch and shoved its handle six inches into the sand. When it was sturdy enough, she got another one and placed it ten feet from the first. She removed a lighter. The cotton wicks had been soaked in torch fuel and lit easily. The two lights glowed bright in the darkness.
Standing between the torches, Lovely raised both hands in front of her, then spread her arms to her sides. She spoke, barely audible even to herself, and called forth Nalla’s spirit. Once Nalla was in place, Lovely called forth Candace, Sabra, Marya, Adora, Charity, and Essie, all of her maternal grandmothers. Then she called her own mother, Ruth. When their spirits were joined she prayed for Nalla to lift the curse.
From the dinghy, Diane and Mercer watched in muted fascination. They had been skeptical, to say the least, but at that moment whatever they were looking at was undoubtedly real.
From the pontoon, the team gawked at the distant torches and Lovely standing between them. As seasoned archaeologists they had been around the world and seen many things, but they would never again witness a scene like this one.
The distant rumble of thunder jolted them back to reality.
Finally, Lovely returned to the dinghy and told Diane to call the pontoon. The island was safe.
Ronnie revved the engine just enough to gain momentum, then shut it off and lifted it. The pontoon glided to a stop in the sand near the dinghy. No one seemed eager to get off.
Dr. Sargent quipped, “I think you white boys should go first.”
Dr. Gilfoy replied, “We’ll follow you.”
Diane said, “We walk to Lovely one at a time, between the torches, and she will say a prayer. Then you are clear.”
“Are you sure?” asked Gilfoy.
“No, but we’re doing what Lovely says. Follow me.”
A lightning storm erupted over Cumberland Island to the north. The thunder was louder but still far away.
