Bald Head Island: Chapter 1
My Dear Cousin Chauncey,
It is my sincerest hope that this letter finds you in good spirit and health. How is my little Cousin Marie? I can imagine that by now she’s turned into a most charming young lady, and that you, her older brother, has a full measure of labor keeping hosts of hopeful young men at bay. Oh, how I wish I could be there with the two of you!
As I presume you are aware, in the wake of the regrettable incident in Memphis my father placed me in the care of your esteemed parents. I will not dwell on the countless petty hardships I’ve endured under the strict oversight of your father, Col. Beauregard, and your mother, that most terrifying member of womankind. Nor shall I elaborate on our steamship journey from our beloved New Orleans to Bald Head Island, on account that it was a rather tedious, mosquito- and seasickness-ridden affair, the tristesse only interrupted by my escape-attempt in the port of Charleston, which in its course ended with me being escorted in ignominy aboard the ship by two burly stevedores retained by my dear, perpetually vigilant Uncle for such an eventuality.
We arrived at Bald Head Island this very morning, and while our luggage was unloaded and carted to the hotel my dear and marvelously efficient Uncle wasted no time introducing me to the chief of the local Constabulary, a certain Sgt. Teach. I cannot say if it was due to my Uncle’s prestigious rank or the small purse that openly changed hands, in any event Sgt. Teach assured us that he would diligently enforce the various restrictions and curbs that were to be placed on me during our stay on the island, and also disseminate the same to the island's hoteliers, bar keepers, croupiers and the public in general.
After my introduction to Sgt. Teach, Tante Marguerite wasted no time to brusquely herd me to the local Bell office. The Bell operators were young ladies of various shapes and hues, many rather comely, and under other, less humiliating circumstances it would have been quite rewarding to get to know them more closely, but as things were I was paraded in front of the operators by my most beloved Tante, who appeared to take delight in making it brilliantly clear to the ladies that under no pretext I was to receive or initiate any calls or telegrams, and likewise not make use of the wireless. Thus, compliance with your mother’s harsh edict compels me to write to you this way instead of using a more convenient or modern vehicle of communication.
When your esteemed mother and I arrived at the Grand-Hotel Quatre Saisons, which counts among the more splendid on the island, it became clear that I was not to stay there. Instead my luggage had already been delivered to the private residence of one of Uncle’s military acquaintances, which also serves as a hostel of some sort. With much sadness in my heart I write these lines as I wait for my coach to arrive, and deliver me to my island prison.
As ever, I remain your loving cousin etc. etc. etc.
Charles B. Beauregard