The steady wind that attracted Orville and Wilbur Wright to the Outer Banks of North Carolina produces an uncommonly reliable surf. Hour after hour, with mesmerizing monotony, the big waves roll in from the deep ocean. Each liquid mountain swells ominously as it approaches the shore, crests majestically, and breaks with a thundering crash, giving birth to a new, flat wave called a bore, a rushing wall of water with a foaming vertical front. Racing toward the shore, the bore eventually spreads and disperses, hiding the white sand under a blanket of froth.
Three years ago the gulls on the beach witnessed the curious spectacle of an awkward little amphibious craft that was daring the waves by positioning itself right under the largest breakers, where it was drenched and thrown about in a most alarming way. The boat's crew of four men seemed to be heaving mysterious boxes overboard and ...
