The Old Cape Teapot

by Barbara Eppich Struna

  “Okay, I don’t want to miss my connection.”

  As the Jeep rumbled along the bumpy roads in the early dawn, I enjoyed the beauty of the island paradise one last time. If I looked beyond the poverty and discounted the fact that someone had broken into Brian’s house, it really was a remarkable place.

  “Your visit has been awesome,” Brian said.

  “It’s been quite interesting.” I could see the small airport’s tower on the horizon.

  Brian glanced over to me. “I was thinking this morning that it seems like fate connected you with a relative of John Julian.”

  “I guess there’s more for me to find.”

  Clouds began to move in and the air grew cooler. “Will Nick be coming back to your place tonight? I feel uncomfortable with you alone in that house.”

  “You worry too much. Hey, I hope you don’t mind, but Nick wanted a copy of the map for his pirate collection, so I made him one.”

  “You know, he seems a little too interested…all those questions.”

  Brian laughed my concern off. “He’s okay.”

  “I guess so, just be careful.” I checked one more time to make sure the copy of the map was safe in my journal.

  Brian pulled up to the airport’s sliding glass doors. “You know, finding that old map convinced me about your theory.” He gave me a big smile then stopped the Jeep and got out to get my bags. He stared at me for a second then shook his head. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Me neither.” I couldn’t wait to get back to the Cape to investigate further.

  He opened the door for me. “I’ve a meeting in around thirty minutes. Are you all right if I leave you here?”

  “You know me better than that; I’ll be fine. You should get going.”

  He gave me another hug. “I love you. I’ll be home by Thanksgiving, if all goes well with the new orphanage.”

  I held him for a few seconds longer and then let go. “I’m so proud of you and what you’ve done. I love you.”

  He pointed at me from behind the wheel and said, “You be careful.” Then smiled, “Watch out for pirates on the Cape.”

  I called after him as he drove away, “Be safe. God be with you and watch your back.”

  When the airport doors closed behind me I couldn’t wait to call Paul. As soon as I checked in, the plane was ready to board for my first flight of the day to Puerto Rico. My cell phone showed only two bars for reception. I quickly tried to connect. “Paul?”

  “Hi honey. It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “I should be home soon, if there are no problems.” I patted the backpack’s pouch that protected my journal and the map. “You won’t believe what I found.”

  “Nancy? You’re breaking up. I can’t hear you.”

  “Oh okay, I love you. See you tonight.”

  “Bye.” Paul’s voice trailed off into static as my cell phone decreased to no bars. Hopefully, in Miami, I’ll have a better connection; if not, I’ll try again in Boston.

  Once I was settled into my seat on the first flight, I laughed, remembering how the plastic bag containing the conch shells proved to be no problem going through security. It was the walking down the narrow aisle of the plane that was difficult. Trying to hold the lumpy backpack ahead of me with one hand and the shells behind me with the other was daunting. The shells made clanking sounds as they hit against each other or bumped people in their seats. I’d smiled as sweetly as I could and repeated, “Sorry…oh, I’m sorry.” In fact, as I weaved and bobbed down the aisle carrying my treasures, I thought I recognized one of the guys from back at the ocean bar, towards the rear of the plane. At least, he looked like he was one of them. As I passed him I accidentally gave him a good hit on the shoulder. He’d returned a half-hearted smile, so I wasn’t worried that I’d really hurt him. I tried to be more careful on the next flight, knowing the kids would find the big conchs really cool.

  It was almost six o’clock by the time I reached Boston. As the plane approached for landing, I could see the fall colors of the leaves. The air looked cool and crisp; a change from sandals to sneakers might be in order for the bus ride from Boston to Hyannis, where I expected Paul to be waiting for me. Once I land it should be less than three hours before I’m finally in my own bed …and I won’t need any netting.

  ***

  1722

  ANTIGUA

  The sparse courtyard of Smith’s stately house was void of life except for palm trees that lined the inside of the outer walls. A tall and well-built dark skinned man strode towards Davis.

  “Mr. Davis, sir?” asked the young man.

  “Yes.”

  A strong-looking hand picked up Davis’s travel bag, “If you would please come with me, I’ll direct you to your room.”

  “Why thank you, boy. I’m mighty obliged.” Davis rose and followed.

  The manservant led the Smiths’ guest down a long painted hallway lined with rooms on each side. He opened the last door and placed the guest’s leather bag onto the wooden-planked floor next to a small storage chest at the foot of a canopied bed. After opening the veranda’s door, he politely said, “If you need anything, please do not hesitate to summon me. My name is Tobey.”

  “Of course.” Davis quickly turned and called after the servant, “BOY! Tell the overseer that I want to speak with him as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tobey obediently answered, swallowing his true feelings. He hated being called ‘boy’. His name was Tobey. Someday he’d be able to correct rude people. He closed the door on Davis and rubbed his shirt, which hid a bumpy scar across his chest. It always ached when he found himself upset. A show of disrespect seemed to bother him the most.

  Caroline passed him in the corridor. Tobey greeted the Smiths’ new acquisition with a smile. Each year, the Smith family would buy three slaves from the neighboring Codrington Plantation on the Island of Barbuda. It was a stronghold of land and houses that had been bequeathed by Christopher Codrington upon his death to the Church of England in 1710. Now it was a place where slaves were held and ‘seasoned’. The captured slaves became property of the Society of the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (or the SPG) and branded with the word ‘Society’ across their chests. It was common knowledge that slaves in their first three years of captivity were fed well and given light labor. If they survived and did not commit suicide, they were destined for hard labor on other sugar plantations owned by the church.

  Tobey touched the scar on his chest. He was restless. His life of servitude was becoming unbearable. He acknowledged that the Smiths had always been good to him but he wanted more; he wanted his freedom. As he searched for the overseer, John Julian, on the main floor, he held back the resentment for his state in life and followed through with his orders from Davis. When Tobey reached the second floor of the house, he saw John Julian close the door on young Isaac Smith, who was resting on the cool sheets of his bed.

  “Excuse me, sir. Mr. Davis requests a meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”

  Julian whispered, “Thank you, Tobey. You may leave now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tobey lowered his head and turned to walk away. His face furrowed into a frown; he was worried about his future. He knew that Isaac Smith was here to sell the family plantation.

  It was one of Tobey’s duties to open and close doors and windows throughout the mansion to monitor its temperature. After dinner was over and the night air began to cool the many rooms of the big house on the hill, Tobey heard loud voices coming from Davis’s room. He slipped into the vacant adjoining room and opened the veranda doors a crack to listen as two men argued. He heard Julian’s voice yell, “I tell you Davis, it’s there. You MUST do as I ask!”

  Then Davis acquiesced. “I suppose I could help you, but how will I find it?”

  “I’ve drawn a map.”

  Tobey stepped further out onto the veranda.

  There was a slight hesitation in Davis’s voice. “I don’t know if I can do
this for you. I have a wife now, and I’m well known in the community, I’m not sure….”

  Scuffling broke the still of the night.

  In a small window on the multi-paned door of Davis’s room, Tobey could see Julian’s reflection as he curled his hands around Davis’s neck. There was a gasp then a gurgling noise.

  “Remember, my friend,” Julian said as he squeezed tighter, “I’m the only one who knows of your secret.”

  “You wouldn’t, you swore to me,” Davis pleaded.

  Julian continued to threaten. “I won’t hesitate to inform the authorities on Cape Cod about your part in the untimely death of Sam Bellamy…and whoever else happened to be in the house on the night of the fire.”

  Tobey pressed his back against the side curtain of the door. Curious for more information, he leaned forward again, beyond the dark room, for a better view and saw Julian push Davis up against the outside wall. With clenched teeth, Julian demanded, “Do you understand me?”

  At that, Tobey retreated and quietly left. He wondered if he could benefit from this encounter between the two men. Closing the door behind him, he stood in the hallway. What was Davis’s quest? After a quick knock on Davis’s door, he entered and found the two men still struggling. They separated immediately and straightened their waistcoats. “Excuse me, sir,” Tobey said, holding onto the latch of the door. “I need to ready your room for the night.”

  Julian glared at the servant. Davis looked relieved.

  “If you don’t mind, sir?” Tobey moved closer to them and began to turn down the bedcovers.

  Julian headed for the door. As he passed the young black man, he ordered, “Tobey! Come to my house after you’re finished here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Later, as Tobey followed the road down to Julian’s house, he questioned the coming meeting between him and the overseer. He was prepared to defend himself if there was any confrontation other than the usual reprimand for the unexpected entrance to Davis’s room. He hoped there would be none.

  Meanwhile, Julian encouraged his wife, Elizabeth, to retire early. He explained to her that he had business to take care of and needed his privacy. Julian took a position outside on a bench and leaned back against the side of his house. The moonrise lit the dark night. He could see Tobey’s approach.

  “Mr. Julian, Sir?”

  “Sit down, Tobey.” He took out his pipe and waited for the slave to sit next to him. “How long have you been under the Smith family?”

  “Eight years…since I was ten.”

  “You have learned your studies well and seem to have grown into a smart young man.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I have a proposition for you.” Julian glanced up at the moon and let out a long stream of smoke from between his lips. “Are you interested in improving your state of life?”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “I mean freedom. A new start.”

  Tobey remained quiet, holding onto the word freedom in his head.

  “Well?” Julian persisted.

  “I don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”

  Julian gave Tobey a knowing glance. “You were in the next room listening to my conversation…or you might say, persuasion, with Mr. Davis. Am I not right?”

  “I meant no disrespect, sir.” Tobey’s posture was stiff next to Julian. He wanted to show he wasn’t afraid of the man who controlled him.

  “You show gumption. That I like.”

  Several seconds of silence passed before Julian spoke again.

  “Mr. Davis and I knew each other a long time ago. Let’s say we were partners.”

  Tobey stared straight ahead into the dusky night; his hands resting on top of his knees.

  “I want you to sail to the Cape with Mr. Davis. You’ll be under his care and will assist him in finding items that belong to me, whereupon you’ll return with the found goods back to Antigua.” Julian hesitated and then added, “I’m only interested in the safety of my property.”

  “How will this happen?”

  “You’ll carry papers that will identify you as a servant of the Smith Plantation, and it will explain that you’re retrieving their possessions. When said items are delivered into my hands, I’ll have the power to release you from bondage and reward you with enough coin to start anew.”

  Tobey stood now and faced Julian. “How do I know that you’ll keep your promise?”

  Julian reached into his vest pocket and handed him two gold coins. “If you are capable and complete your task, you’ll have more of these. Trust me. You have my word.”

  Tobey held the coins in his hand. He mulled Julian’s request over in his thoughts only for a short time and responded, “Yes, I’ll do it.” He was frightened but desperate for his freedom. “Did I understand you to say you care only for your property, and not for Davis?”

  “That’s what I said.” Julian turned away from Tobey, entered his house and closed the door.

  10

  Present Day

  CAPE COD

  WHILE THE BUS sped along the highway from Logan Airport to Cape Cod, something kept bothering me. I unfolded the copy of the old map for the umpteenth time to study the crude lines of the drawing again. One landmark on the drawing looked odd to me. Even though it was within the mass of the Cape’s land and I recognized the names around it: Harwich, Eastham, and Truro, I couldn’t recall the identity of the lumpy round mark near the coast of Eastham. I knew the towns of Brewster and Orleans had not been incorporated until after the 1700s so almost the whole lower Cape was known as Eastham. This mark on the map had to be somewhere in present day Orleans.

  It was almost dark when the bus pulled into the Hyannis depot. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Paul waiting by our white van. Even after 24 years of marriage, we were still passionate about each other. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was tall, lean, and muscular, sported a full salt and pepper beard and was born with beautiful blue eyes. I laughed to myself, he must have bought some new sneakers; they were stark white against his khaki pants and looked huge next to the black pavement. Everything about him was balanced, strong, and sturdy. Even his physical numbers were good, from his height of six feet to his shoe size of 12, all equal. Not like me, at five foot seven I wore a nine-and-a-half shoe…just a little bit odd. I was the one who encouraged the spur-of-the-moment decisions in our relationship and sometimes needed to be brought back into reality. But we’re a good team.

  I prayed a quiet thank you to Casey for watching the little ones at home. As I stepped off the bus, Paul quickly walked toward me with open arms.

  I leaned in and smiled. “Hi, honey,”

  “Welcome home.” He kissed me on the cheek. “Everybody missed you.”

  His soft white whiskers mingled with my hair, instantly comforting me after my long journey. We held hands while the driver opened the bottom hatch of the bus so Paul could retrieve my bags. After loading everything into the back of our van, Paul pointed to the bumpy plastic grocery bag. “What do you have here?”

  “Surprises for the kids.”

  He grinned.

  I quickly got into the car, eager to get home. “I have so much to tell you,” I said as I stroked his knee. “I missed you.”

  He leaned over to kiss me. “It’s good to have you home.”

  The drive home flew by as fast as the lights from the oncoming cars as they passed us. We talked of Brian, the orphanage project and of course, the mystery map.

  Paul looked over to me. “When you called from Miami and told me about finding a relative of John Julian I was hoping it wouldn’t be anything that might prove dangerous.” He shook his head back and forth. “Remember the night those guys broke in to our house? I can’t believe this is happening to you again, I mean to us, to the family. Please be careful. We can’t be getting involved in any more treasure hunting.”

  I pulled my hand from his leg and turned away to look out the window at the dark woods off the highway. “You kn
ow me…I’m always so curious.” It was all I could come up with to counter his words. I decided to keep my thoughts of hunting for more treasure to myself. Maybe Paul doesn’t need to know that someone broke into Brian’s house. No harm was done.

  ***

  1722

  ANTIGUA

  The lone figure crouched in the dark, pressing his shoulder against the massive twenty-four-foot facade of the rock. At its base, he patted the last of the loose soil flat then scattered stones across its surface. When he was satisfied his secret was concealed, he stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tasting the crunch of dirt. He looked around.

  Grabbing the shovel, he smashed the rustic stretcher that had carried the now buried chest and threw the spade into the thickets surrounding the large stone. Securing the small bulging pouch under his belt, he tied its leather bindings secure. As he ran swiftly through the early dawn along a path that followed the sound of the crashing ocean, branches hit his face and stones twisted his feet. He pushed himself forward; all the while sensing someone was following him, searching for a safe hiding place where he could wait during the coming daylight hours.

  John Julian bolted upright in his bed. Covered in sweat, he rubbed his eyes with trembling hands then breathed a sigh of relief that it was only another nightmare. He was tired of them.

  Elizabeth stirred in her sleep next to him, but remained quiet. As he left the bed, his shirt clung to his clammy body. Wiping away the salty drops of liquid from his skin with the tail of his nightshirt, he shuffled to the sideboard for a drink of ale.

  After the pungent alcohol soothed his nerves, he walked outside to sit on the bench. As he closed his eyes, his mind drifted back to Cape Cod. He remembered the grey color of the weathered shingles on the old house where he’d taken refuge that morning after burying his fortune by the rock. He had known the house was empty because there was no smoke coming from the chimney. Julian recalled thinking that he would be safe there until night came, but within minutes of his arrival, he’d seen the King’s men at the neighboring property, searching for survivors from the wreck of the Whydah.