The Mystery of the Old Sea Captain

I want to tell you about a boy I knew who lived in Morehead City, North Carolina, named Tucker Willis. Everybody liked Tucker.

He was good at nearly everything he put his hand to. Tucker could jump like a flea on the basketball court. He was smart in school. He could swim like a fish and surf.

But when he turned 12, he was still so short that he looked like an elf.

You know how it is when you’re a little different. Kids called him Squirt, Shrimp, Inchworm. He got teased about surfing too because not many Black kids we knew surfed.

I thought Tucker was the cutest thing in the world. But to him back then I was knock-kneed LaShana Mae, the girl who lived down the street. I was a few years younger. We were friends, though. We went to the same school and the same church—St. Luke’s Missionary Baptist.

Back in those days—in the 1970s—I was just a skinny girl with braids and braces. Kids called me Wires, and I hated that.

So Tucker and I had a lot in common. We often talked about the things kids called us. Even though being called those names hurt, Tucker laughed it off.

But one day, Tucker did something that made everybody stop calling him names he didn’t like.

It all began when Tucker was out on the pier alongside his house.

He noticed a man on a dock a few yards away. The man had a thick white mustache and beard and wore a blue-and-gold military-style jacket and cap.

I wasn’t there, so I didn’t see him, but that’s what Tucker told me.

The man waved. Tucker, being friendly, waved back. They struck up a conversation.

The man said his name was Richard and that he was staying at the Moten Motel. His home was in Manteo, on Roanoke Island, where he worked as a captain for the U.S. Life-Saving Service.

Tucker figured what Richard meant was that he worked for the U.S. Coast Guard. Tucker was extremely knowledgeable about the Coast Guard, but he had never heard of this Life-Saving Service.

As a lifesaver, Richard said, he and his men went into the ocean in the middle of hurricanes to save people whose ships were sinking.

Richard explained that to be in the Life-Saving Service, you had to be strong, an exceptional swimmer, a quick thinker, and you had to understand how dangerous the sea can be.

Tucker wished he could enlist right away, and he said so. He was qualified—other than being too young, of course.

And too short.

Richard told him it wasn’t the size of a person that got the job done. It was how much the person wanted to do it.

How were those huge ships able to move into a port and back out to sea? Because of little tugboats pushing and pulling them in, Richard said. A tugboat could bring in a ship many times its size.

Richard said that Tucker would make an excellent tugboat, and one day he might even grow to be a big ship.

Then he thanked Tucker for the talk, said maybe they’d meet again, and wandered back toward the motel.

A few days later, Tucker decided to go surfing at the Atlantic Beach pier.

His dad worked there as a cook. It was early morning, but a hot July wind made the waves choppy and sandy. Tucker said only one guy was in the water, floating on a red raft like a huge jellyfish.

After he swam out far enough, Tucker climbed onto his surfboard and rode a wave in. When he glanced back at the pier, guess who he saw? Richard, on the pier, clapping for him.

“Do it, Tugboat!” Richard hollered. “Pull that wave in!”

Tugboat? Then Tucker remembered Richard’s story about tugboats. He waved back and swam out to pull in another wave, passing the man on the raft.

The man said, “You’re little to be way out here, ain’t ya, Squirt?”

Tucker shook his head. He kept going until he noticed a tall purple cloud rising up on the horizon. That meant a storm was on its way.

Keeping an eye on the cloud, Tucker went on pulling in more waves until a huge one crashed down on him.

Wipeout.

No big deal for Tucker, though. He popped right up in the water and grabbed his board, which was tied to his ankle. He was all right.

But the man on the raft wasn’t. He thrashed around in the water screaming that he couldn’t swim.

As that big black cloud spread across the sky, the wind and waves grew rougher. Tucker straddled his surfboard and, using his hands for oars, paddled toward the man. But as Tucker got close, the man lunged at the surfboard in a panic and knocked Tucker off.

Then the man grabbed hold of Tucker. Tangled up in those big arms and legs, Tucker knew he was about to die.

Just then, something lifted Tucker up through the water and onto his surfboard. That’s when Tucker saw his friend Richard in the water.

Richard was hauling the raft toward the man. Then he pulled the man onto it.

“Let’s push and pull it, Tugboat!” Richard yelled. “Push and pull it in!”

Somehow Tucker and Richard hauled that raft—with the guy glued to it—close to shore.

Four or five people splashed into the water and helped them onto the beach. One of them was a reporter on vacation.

The guy Tucker rescued was named Mr. Nibbles. He was so grateful that he gave Tucker $100 right on the spot.

The reporter interviewed everybody and took pictures. When he asked how such a small boy was able to rescue a big, grown man, Tucker said, “’Cause I’m a tugboat, like Richard said. We pull the big ones in.”

But when he turned to point out Richard, Tucker couldn’t find him.

The story about Tucker’s rescue appeared in the local paper, then got picked up by other newspapers and went all over the world.

Strangers stopped Tucker on the street, in stores, even came to his home. They wanted to meet the little “tugboat” who hauled in that big man and get his autograph.

Businesses up and down Arendell Street put up GREAT WORK, TUGBOAT! posters in their windows. And there was a parade. Tucker was a hero. He and the mayor rode on the back of a big ole white Cadillac convertible and waved at everybody.

I was very proud of him.

Everybody called him Tugboat after that, including us kids. It wasn’t cool anymore to tease him with those other names. Funny how things can turn around, isn’t it?

And you know what? Tucker grew to be tall. He went to North Carolina Central University and joined the U.S. Coast Guard.

But there’s something Tucker never figured out.

When he first told people that Richard was the true hero, nobody believed him. Apparently, nobody but Tucker had seen Richard—not even Mr. Nibbles.

There’s more.

One day, Tucker went into the pier gift shop to spend some of his rescue money. He picked up a book about the Coast Guard. He was thumbing through it when he stopped at an old-timey picture of some Black men wearing jackets like Richard’s.

And below that was a picture of . . . Richard. Mustache, beard, jacket, everything!

Tucker read, “Captain Richard Etheridge was keeper of the Pea Island Life-Saving Station. This all African American, courageous lifesaving crew saved hundreds of lives by plunging into stormy seas and bringing shipwrecked passengers to safety.”

Then he read: “Captain Etheridge, born in 1842 near Roanoke Island in North Carolina, died in 1900.”

Tucker said he probably read that date 20 times before it sank in.

Richard Etheridge had been dead for nearly 100 years. How was it possible that a dead man had helped Tucker save Mr. Nibbles?

Unless Richard was a ghost.

Tucker hit up the library the next day and searched for anything he could find on Richard Etheridge.

He discovered that Richard Etheridge really did die in 1900.

A few years later, when Tucker visited Roanoke Island, he found Etheridge’s monument and grave. The headstone was marked 1842-1900.

That’s when Tucker stopped talking about Richard being involved in the rescue—unless somebody asked.

If you run into Tucker “Tugboat” Willis, ask him about the rescue, and he’ll tell you.

Then, carefully, ask if he ever met Richard Etheridge. He’ll tell you yes, he did, and what he learned: that it pays to be polite to everybody you meet. You never know when that person might help you.

Every time Tucker tells me the story, he tells it to me the same way I told it to you. Seeing how Tucker turned out proves that some mighty things that help folks out in some mighty big ways can come in mighty small packages.

It also proves that good things come to those who wait, like I did. I know, because I’m Mrs. LaShana Mae Willis, Tugboat’s wife.