Deep South at that time wasn’t supposed to be content with his lot. He kept waiting for the ax to fall on his head. Meanwhile, he spent some of his hard earned money—he had little expenses; the state paid for their supplies—on a fishing vessel. He’d bought the small shrimp boat from a kindly white man who brought over their supplies once a month from Beaufort. It was a good thing, too, because one year later the ax he’d been waiting on finally dropped. The state came in and put in an automatic light. They kept Jessie on to do nominal maintenance, for an even more nominal salary.
Didn’t matter. By that time Jessie was making a better living as a fisherman, anyway. He sold his catch every morning but Sunday in the sleepy coastal town of Beaufort, across the water. The restaurants and Inns in town all clamored for his fresh, inexpensive catch. And even though it meant dealing with the white world again, Jess could at least stop waiting on that old ax to fall. Besides, he was still his own man!
He loved the solitude of the sea and the gratifying feeling he got from harvesting its rich bounty. It wasn’t all that different from the farming tradition his father and grandfather had weaned him on, in the sun baked fields of South Carolina. Cultivating corn, cotton, and tobacco.
A year after he’d begun his new career, Jessie upgraded to a bigger shrimpboat, The Moon Maiden, and the money began rolling in. That’s when he started to look towards the future of Moon.
The Huggins’s isolation was soon a thing of the past. The white Captain who sold Jess his first boat asked him if he could move to the island. This floored Jessie. Never in his life had a white man asked his permission for anything! Captain McAndles wasn’t the last, either.
From that moment on, there was a slow but steady stream of people moving to the island, most of them families. And every last one of them—be they white or black—had to rent or buy the land from Jessie Huggins.
This fortuitous development had come to pass because Jessie had maintained a permanent residence on Moon for over five consecutive years. The state of South Carolina considered the property abandoned by this time, and was obliged to deed the land over to Jessie Huggins (except for the lighthouse, that is, and a large tract of land in the swamp, out by Lizard Lake, which the Army still owned). Truth was, they were glad to be shut of her.
Jessie Huggins, on the other hand, wouldn’t have traded Moon for all the Hawaiian Isles put together. Using the money he’d saved, as well as most of the income coming in from his fishing, Jessie had farmed out the construction of several small homes and cottages, mostly on the East End. It was good for a start, but the best was yet to come. He considered the west end of Moon to be the best property on the island, what with its highest elevation and all, but was in no hurry to develop it. Better to wait until he could put some real money into the construction over there.
It was like money in the bank.
In the years to follow, as more and more people came to Moon to settle, Main Street began to take shape; with businesses popping up on either side of the then unpaved road, in a slow, steady progression. The natural harbor, which at one time had only the one spindly dock, preceded this municipal growth by leaps and bounds, and was the town’s first gathering spot—fisherman being the heart and soul of the island. Moon Island, while still dependent on the mainland for its power supply and phone lines, was self-sufficient when it came to fresh water; thanks to the spring-fed lake, which sat in the middle of the pine forest. Aptly, if not originally, referred to as the Pines. The Army turned over their water treatment plant, located on the western edge of the forest, to the town of Moon, and it employed some of the non-fishermen on the island. An impressive start for any small town, much less one that never held any such aspirations.
Didn’t matter. By that time Jessie was making a better living as a fisherman, anyway. He sold his catch every morning but Sunday in the sleepy coastal town of Beaufort, across the water. The restaurants and Inns in town all clamored for his fresh, inexpensive catch. And even though it meant dealing with the white world again, Jess could at least stop waiting on that old ax to fall. Besides, he was still his own man!
He loved the solitude of the sea and the gratifying feeling he got from harvesting its rich bounty. It wasn’t all that different from the farming tradition his father and grandfather had weaned him on, in the sun baked fields of South Carolina. Cultivating corn, cotton, and tobacco.
A year after he’d begun his new career, Jessie upgraded to a bigger shrimpboat, The Moon Maiden, and the money began rolling in. That’s when he started to look towards the future of Moon.
The Huggins’s isolation was soon a thing of the past. The white Captain who sold Jess his first boat asked him if he could move to the island. This floored Jessie. Never in his life had a white man asked his permission for anything! Captain McAndles wasn’t the last, either.
From that moment on, there was a slow but steady stream of people moving to the island, most of them families. And every last one of them—be they white or black—had to rent or buy the land from Jessie Huggins.
This fortuitous development had come to pass because Jessie had maintained a permanent residence on Moon for over five consecutive years. The state of South Carolina considered the property abandoned by this time, and was obliged to deed the land over to Jessie Huggins (except for the lighthouse, that is, and a large tract of land in the swamp, out by Lizard Lake, which the Army still owned). Truth was, they were glad to be shut of her.
Jessie Huggins, on the other hand, wouldn’t have traded Moon for all the Hawaiian Isles put together. Using the money he’d saved, as well as most of the income coming in from his fishing, Jessie had farmed out the construction of several small homes and cottages, mostly on the East End. It was good for a start, but the best was yet to come. He considered the west end of Moon to be the best property on the island, what with its highest elevation and all, but was in no hurry to develop it. Better to wait until he could put some real money into the construction over there.
It was like money in the bank.
In the years to follow, as more and more people came to Moon to settle, Main Street began to take shape; with businesses popping up on either side of the then unpaved road, in a slow, steady progression. The natural harbor, which at one time had only the one spindly dock, preceded this municipal growth by leaps and bounds, and was the town’s first gathering spot—fisherman being the heart and soul of the island. Moon Island, while still dependent on the mainland for its power supply and phone lines, was self-sufficient when it came to fresh water; thanks to the spring-fed lake, which sat in the middle of the pine forest. Aptly, if not originally, referred to as the Pines. The Army turned over their water treatment plant, located on the western edge of the forest, to the town of Moon, and it employed some of the non-fishermen on the island. An impressive start for any small town, much less one that never held any such aspirations.
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