The other possibility Fonny Boy entertained was that the sunken ship might be a Spanish one that in 1611 stopped at Old Point Comfort in what is today Hampton, Virginia. The ship might have been sent by King Phillip III of Spain to spy on the people of Jamestown and see what they were up to. Other historians believe the Spaniards were, in fact, searching for another vessel that had sunk in the area. Why go to all that trouble unless there was treasure on the ship that sank? Fonny Boy reasoned. There wasn't much going on in the new English settlement except the people were hiding inside the fort to avoid the Naturals, who were very fickle, from what Fonny Boy had read-one minute bringing the settlers maize, the next minute greeting them with a storm of arrows.
Fonny Boy had always taken sides with the Naturals. He supposed that to the Naturals, the settlers were rather much like the strangers the Islanders tolerated most of the time but didn't particularly trust or like. Why was it that strangers were always looking down on people who were Naturals or local? Strangers ought to be called Unnaturals and should be pitied because they are the ones who need taxi rides and don't know the best place to eat or how to grow corn and have to pay a quarter to peek at peelers, as if molting blue crabs were some exotic creature like a panda bear or an anaconda.
Dr. Faux had fallen silent as the sun slipped into the Chesapeake Bay and restaurants and gift shops closed sharply at six. Although the dentist couldn't see because of the brackish-smelling bandanna, he could feel the temperature dramatically shift as night began to cloak the island and a cold front blew in. It was clear he would not be going anywhere anytime soon. No one, including the Coast Guard, visited Tangier after dark, when fog rolled in and obscured the eroding shore and what was left of the airstrip. Only the watermen's work boats could move about freely when conditions were poor, but that did Dr. Faux not a bit of good, since he knew from experience that the Islanders were stubborn and not inclined to change their minds. No one was going to let him go home, perhaps ever.
"You keep me here tied up like this," Dr. Faux said out loud, because he thought he had heard a stirring inside the room a few minutes ago, "then who's going to take care of your teeth? That you in here, Fonny Boy?"
"Yea." Fonny Boy's answer was followed by several blows on the harmonica.
"I would like to know what the plan is, if you don't mind telling me," the dentist said.
"Depends on the gov'ner," Fonny Boy repeated what the watermen had discussed among themselves after taking the dentist hostage. "If the stripes stay on the road, then there is no hope for you. We had wer fill of Virginia and are sick and tard of the way we is treated and don't want to go to the jail for speeding in the golf carts and don't want NASCAR building a racetrack so they can make a barrel. And we plan to really fix you for what you done to wer teeth, making out that you care when it ain't so!"
"NASCAR?" Dr. Faux was stumped. "Have you ever been to a NASCAR race, Fonny Boy?"
"Yea!" he exclaimed, lifting his eyebrows and tightening his jaw, meaning he was talking backward and saying no.
"Well, I can't tell if you mean yes or no, but I assure you, NASCAR has no intention of coming here and there is no barrel of money to be made from stock-car racing or anything else on this island."
"The police say so. And if the gov'ner don't do what he orte do and stop steering us up, we going to set out all the bateaus and form a blockate around the island and raise a flag with a jimmy on it and burn up the Virginia flag! And you made a barrel here on Tanger, now ain't that right, Dr. Faux?"
"You're going to raise a flag with a male crab on it and commit treason?" Dr. Faux was shocked and persisted in sidestepping the boy's accusations about the dentist's honesty. "That would cause another civil war, Fonny Boy. Do you realize the serious consequences of such a hostile act?"
"All I know is we had wer fill," Fonny Boy said with defiance and a bit of a swagger in his voice.
"Well, I tell you, son, I've visited your island for many years," Dr. Faux confessed. "And it's no coincidence that I don't choose to live here. My point is, if you want a chance in life, Fonny Boy, you've got to do the smart thing, which in this case is listening to me."
"Listening to you is not much count," Fonny Boy replied with a few toots on the harmonica, not letting on that his interest was snagged by what might just prove to be a transaction of some sort.
"Listening to me has plenty of value. Because doing the smart thing might just give you an opportunity. Maybe there's something special out there for you, Fonny Boy. But if you go along with these people that have me locked up in here, there's a good possibility you'll end up in trouble and spend the rest of your life on this tiny, eroding island, selling crabs and souvenirs and playing the harmonica. You got to help me get out of here, and if you do, maybe I'll take you with me back to Reedville and you can work in my office and learn to drive a real car."
"If I carry you to shore, what you gonna do? Throw silver dollars at me?" Fonny Boy asked sarcastically as he blew out an unrecognizable rendition of "Yankee Doodle."
"You know what a recruiter is?" Dr. Faux said smoothly. "Well, I'll tell you. I could put you to work going around and finding needy children whose teeth require a lot of work their families can't afford. You bring them in to my Reedville clinic and I'll give you ten dollars for every kid. When you learn to drive, I'll find you a car. We don't have to come back here to this impoverished little island ever again."
Fonny Boy had a lot to think about and it was time to head home for supper. He walked out of the storage room, shutting the door hard to make sure the dentist heard him leave, and failing to inform him that water and a tray of food would be delivered momentarily. Fonny Boy felt a pinch of guilt as he got on his bicycle and pedaled away from the clinic, still working on "Yankee Doodle." Maybe he should have been a little kinder to Dr. Faux and told him food and drink were on the way. Maybe he should work harder to do what he had been taught in church, but getting involved in military and mutinous activities sharpened Fonny Boy's edge.
He felt a bit feisty and in a mood to commit mischief and mayhem. He played his harmonica loudly and rode his bicycle faster than usual, speeding up full tilt when he crossed the two painted lines on Janders Road. Fonny Boy pumped furiously through chilly air and moonlight, scarcely acknowledging his aunt Ginny, who was headed to the clinic in a golf cart.
"Heee!" she called out to him as they passed each other in the road. "Doncha play the juice harp in the evening! You gonna drive the neighbors star-crazy!"
Fonny Boy tooted out a loud, rebellious reply and wished he hadn't swallowed the cotton again. Last time, it had clogged him up for a week, moving through his guts and criks with the slow purpose of a glacier until finally working its way out when he was in the bateau with his father, not a toilet or land in sight.
When Ginny walked into the storeroom moments later carrying a tray of crab cakes, hot rolls, and margarine, Dr. Faux was praying again.
"… Amen, dear Lord. I'll get back to you later. That you, Fonny Boy?" the dentist asked hopefully. "Lord have mercy, it's freezing in here. Where'd this winter weather come from all of a sudden?"
"Blowed in from they bay. I got supper and water."
"I need to use the bathroom." Dr. Faux was embarrassed to talk this way in front of a woman whose mouth he had excavated and exploited for years.
Ginny said "yea," as long as he promised to return to the folding chair and didn't mind her tying him up and covering his eyes with the bandanna again.