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The Odyssey of Ben O'Neal [Paperback]

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  • Category: Books (Juvenile Fiction)
  • Author:  Taylor, Theodore
  • Author:  Taylor, Theodore
  • ISBN-10:  015205295X
  • ISBN-10:  015205295X
  • ISBN-13:  9780152052959
  • ISBN-13:  9780152052959
  • Publisher:  HMH Books for Young Readers
  • Publisher:  HMH Books for Young Readers
  • Pages:  264
  • Pages:  264
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Pub Date:  01-Jun-2004
  • Pub Date:  01-Jun-2004
  • SKU:  015205295X-11-MPOD
  • SKU:  015205295X-11-MPOD
  • Item ID: 102463101
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
  • Transit time: Up to 5 business days
  • Delivery by: Jan 19 to Jan 21
  • Notes: Brand New Book. Order Now.
Ben and Teetoncey take to the sea--he, to find his brother, and she, to escape a forced return to England. But can they survive storms, harsh ship life, and a relentless pursuer?
A sequel toTeetoncey and Ben O'Nealand the third novel of the Cape Hatteras Trilogy, these are the further adventures of Ben and Teetoncey as they take to the sea--he, to find his brother, and she, to escape a forced return to England.
Full of wit and wise observations. --School Library Journal


THERE IS A trusted saying on our remote Outer Banks of North Carolina that we who live there are all frail children of the moody Mother Sea, that she watches over and controls our every destiny. Shapes us as she carves out sandbars. Puts us in raging waves or calm, sunny waters. Makes fools out of us now and then, and isn't beyond having a good laugh herself. However, in her behalf, the old people claim she takes a long and careful time before making up her mind on how to dispose of us. She'll beckon us mysteriously when she's ready and not a tide before. There is also steadfast belief from Kill Devil Hills clear to Hatteras village and Ocracoke Island that she talks to us constantly and often we don't listen.

I do believe that now, although I didn't pay it much attention in March 1899, when my various voyages began. The Mother Sea was having a good laugh for herself during that trying period.

In the chill, gray dawn of a Tuesday, in the midmonth, sun reddening but not yet mounting the horizon, I stood at the dew-coated rail on the quivering stern of the steamer Neuse, looking south down Croatan Sound, which lies between Roanoke Island, of Lost Colony fame, and the flat, marshy Carolina mainland. Below my feet, glassy bubbles and white froth boiled out from the railway ferry as she throbbed steadily toward the Pasquotank River and Elizabeth City, North Carolina, where a train would be waiting to carry me on to Norfolk, acl“Y