By Carol Newman Cronin
Oliver returns!The personality we got here to like in Oliver’s shock reveals himself on Cape Cod aboard his grandfather’s boat, the loved “Surprise” as an important typhoon threatens to make landfall. In 1954, typhoon Carol’s wrath used to be felt from the Carolinas to Maine, and in Boston, she blew down the spire of the historical previous North Church. Her destruction used to be so entire that the identify won't ever back be used; Carol used to be the 1st Atlantic storm identify in background to be retired. once more, younger readers see New England coastal heritage throughout the eyes of our intrepid Oliver, now a professional time tourist. As Carol begins to endure down at the sandy beach, Oliver needs to face his personal fears and uncertainties whereas contending with a renegade aunt and all over again visitor who refuses to allow cross of contemporary niceties.
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Extra resources for Cape Cod Surprise: Oliver Matches Wits with Hurricane Carol
Cap’n Eli pulled out a dull white shell, larger than his hand. ” Greg slid something into his pocket—the two earrings. “I don’t eat clams. As of last–” “Then I guess you’ll go hungry. What’re you doing down there on the sole, anyway? ” Greg shuffled to a standing position, hands dangling down his sides and body swaying with the motion of Surprise. His head just brushed the wood ceiling. Cap’n Eli’s eyes ran up Greg’s narrow frame. “Have to earn your keep, you know. You can sweep the floor, for starters.
Th is was some blow! And now he felt rain needling against his neck. Stumbling back to the cockpit, he collapsed on the starboard seat. A wave of dizzy heat rushed to his head—the fever was returning. Another groan from the cockpit floor—Greg hadn’t moved. Oliver kicked bare toes against the curled-up back. “Get up. ” “Isn’t it obvious, Sherlock? ” “Buck would never leave this schooner. ” Something didn’t feel right about the whole situation, and it wasn’t just two missing people or trying to talk sense into Greg.
Holding his breath, Oliver pulled out a huge clam. The thing was four times the size of the littlenecks he and Grampa used to dig. It dropped into the bucket with a satisfying clunk. Whoosh! Fire leaped up from the stove. Arching back to dodge the flame, Cap’n Eli slid a black pan over the burner. Then he pulled an onion out of a net bag hanging next to the sink and began to dice it, with the rigging knife he’d pulled from the sheath on his belt. Greg swept his way across the cabin, digging into the corners to eke out every little bit of grit.