The Old Cape Teapot

by Barbara Eppich Struna

  Paul stood up. “Sorry, I’ve got a frame that needs to be finished for my acrylic painting. A new client is coming tomorrow to take a look at it.”

  Nick turned to me. “I’d like to go with you, Mrs. C.”

  “Great. I’ll be ready in about an hour.” I glanced at the tide clock. “We have plenty of time; it’s several hours before full tide. Do you need any gloves or a hat?”

  “No, I came prepared. After all, we’re in New England, and thought that maybe we’d go exploring. Brian said you were an adventurer.”

  What a nice compliment from Brian, I thought. He’s right.

  The sky was bright blue and there was only a slight breeze when we arrived at the deserted beach. The wrack line had crusted over in white snow that sparkled in the sunlight. The temperature, a chilly forty degrees, was bearable if you had the right winter clothes. Within seconds, however, the breeze turned into a gusty wind.

  “Boy, Mrs. C, it’s getting cold out here.”

  I picked up a few scallop shells. “Don’t you just love to hear the sounds of the sea, even if it is a bit windy?” My hand struggled to deposit the shells into a plastic bag. “I can’t get enough of it. I never take it for granted.”

  Nick zippered his jacket closed. “So, you want only the scallop shells?”

  I nodded. “They’re the only ones that don’t break if you poke a hole into them. We use them to decorate our customer’s packages in the gallery.”

  Nick walked ahead of me and stooped to pick up several large ones. I held the bag open and he placed them inside.

  “After you found real pirate treasure what did you do with it all?” He asked as a gust of wind blew sand into our faces.

  I quickly turned into the opposite direction and waited until it passed. “I’m happy you’re interested.” I picked up more shells from the wet sand. “But first, I want to tell you that I may be onto a new quest.”

  “Really? Fill me in,” said Nick. He turned and started to walk backwards so he could face me as we talked.

  “When I was in Antigua, I found an old map in John Julian’s Bible.”

  “I know, I asked Brian for a copy the day you left.”

  “Oh that’s right. I remember now. Well, I found another map that’s very similar to it.”

  “What?” He stopped in his tracks.

  “I may be on to something that might lead to more treasure.”

  Nick looked very interested. As we walked along the tidal flats, I told him everything I’d discovered. By the time we got back into the car, I could see that he was definitely excited about every word I’d said.

  “Could you show me the maps?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

  Two heads are better than one.

  32

  Present Day

  CAPE COD

  WHEN NICK AND I arrived back at the house, the kids were jumping out of the SUV with their toys from the gift store at the museum. We all walked into the house together. “Who’s hungry?” I asked.

  Danny and Molly responded in unison with a loud, “Me!”

  Martha thankfully took over the feeding frenzy, so I could show Nick the two maps and teapot. “Isn’t it beautiful?” I held up the chalky beach shard next to the blue and white porcelain vessel. “Pretty good match, right?”

  Nick smiled. “So, inside this was another map?” He touched the blue pattern on the teapot.

  “Yes, I couldn’t believe my eyes when they matched each other.”

  Nick took out his phone to take more pictures. Amidst the clicking of his camera, he asked, “You found the teapot in a local antique shop?”

  “That’s correct.”

  He quickly asked, “And the kid who sold this china to the antique store was named Thomas Davis Chandler?”

  I lifted the lid and placed it back down on top of the teapot. “Yes… and Thomas Davis was a surviving pirate from the Whydah wreck.”

  “That’s quite a coincidence.”

  “It did seem weird to me at first, but still plausible.” I turned away from Nick. “I’ll be right back. I want to show you the two maps.”

  ***

  We were sitting at the pedestal table in the front parlor, examining the precious finds and talking about all the clues I’d found, when the doorbell interrupted our cozy winter afternoon. Surprised, I looked over to Nick. “I didn’t notice anyone pull in.” I stood and called out to Martha, “I’ll get it.”

  The kids had settled down to play with their toys and Paul was in his studio for the final hour of the business day. Nick followed me as I rounded the kitchen archway to see who was at the door. Both kids got up and met us in the foyer, equally curious. They looked out through the glass entry doors at the tall stranger. I recognized him; it was Tommy D. What a surprise to see him on my doorstep! Nick stood right behind me as I opened the door. “Hello, Tommy. How are you? Come on in.”

  The young man crossed the threshold with one step.

  Danny and Molly couldn’t take their eyes off his black leather clothes, long stringy hair, and the chains hanging from his pockets and jacket.

  “Sorry to bother you.” He kept his eyes glued to his feet, like he had done something wrong.

  “That’s okay,” I said but remained cautious. I really didn’t know much about this kid. “What can I do for you?”

  Tommy D looked at me and then to Nick.

  “This is Nick, a friend of my son’s.” Tommy fumbled to open a plastic grocery bag. “I wonder if you could answer some questions for me?” He pulled out two old books.

  Intrigued, I reached out for them. “What do you have here?”

  He let go of the large book first, keeping the smaller one in his hands.

  The book was heavy and smelled musty. I was ecstatic to hold it. “Come on into the kitchen, so I can see what you have in a better light.”

  Danny and Molly were still wide-eyed. “Why don’t you kids go into the living room for a few minutes?” No response. They just stared at Tommy D. I ordered them again, a little louder this time. “Go on, hurry up.” I watched them until they were quietly settled in their chairs.

  Tommy followed me into the kitchen with Nick behind him.

  Martha had gone home for the day so the three of us were alone. The thought ran across my mind that I really didn’t know this tall, strange kid and that something bad might happen, but I dismissed it. I would be able to handle this strange visitor if he tried anything; I knew where the knives were kept. Besides, Nick could be my backup. He seemed like he could handle himself if there was any trouble.

  I set the book down on the table and opened it, careful not to disturb anymore of its unraveled binding. It looked like some sort of a ledger. I scanned the lists of household items.

  Tommy placed the smaller book, which looked like a Bible, next to it. I watched him as he glanced around the kitchen. In a quick few seconds, I thought the cozy room must be nothing like what he’s used to. Then I focused back on the old books and began to examine the significant pieces of history.

  Tommy gestured towards them, “They were up in my father’s attic. That’s where I originally found the china you were so interested in.”

  My curiosity grew to a peak. I tried to remain calm. “Oh, I see.”

  “They have Thomas Davis’s name in them,” he offered.

  “Well, what do you want me to help you with?” I ran my fingers over the yellowed pages, slowly turning them one on top of each other.

  “I Googled you and found out that you’d discovered some treasure that belonged to the pirate Sam Bellamy.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I also read that two pirates escaped from his ship when it sank. One was named John Julian and another…Thomas Davis.”

  Loud high-pitched voices came from the living room, interrupting our conversation.

  Molly was screaming. “Mommy! Danny won’t give me the remote.”

  “Damn it,” I whispered under my breath. “I’ll be
right back.”

  “Okay,” said Nick.

  I didn’t think Tommy D minded waiting; he looked relaxed in our welcoming kitchen. I saw Nick lean in to examine the pages of the old Bible.

  After a few minutes, I returned and picked up the ledger. “You said that Thomas Davis’s name was in here?”

  “Yup, I’ll show you.”

  Tommy D flipped the pages to where the name Davis appeared; it was on every third or fourth page.

  “This is really interesting,” I said as I sat down at the table to get a better look.

  He pushed the Bible over to me and pointed to one of the first pages. “You can see that this one has listings of births and deaths, beginning with Thomas Davis marrying a Felicity Gibbs in 1721.”

  I was fascinated. The dates were all in close proximity to sometime after Julian and Davis were acquitted of piracy.

  “My father’s name was the last one written, and now that he’s gone, I’m the only Davis left.”

  “No brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope.”

  “Uncles or aunts?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about your mom’s side of the family?”

  “Naw, she had one sister, but no one knows where she is. My mom died when I was ten.” He spread his hand out on top of the table and moved his fingers up and down in a few nervous wiggles. “My stepmom lives in my…I mean, my dad’s house…where I grew up. I guess it’s her house now. We don’t exactly get along.”

  I felt sorry for this poor guy and began to dismiss my fears about him. Nick pulled the Bible back over to his side of the table and browsed its pages.

  “It’s all very interesting, Tommy, but what do you want from me?” I actually felt a thrill to be in the same room with these early relics. I wanted to own them and craved more details; but I needed to go slow. There was no need to run this kid off with too many questions.

  Tommy D was quiet, as if he was forming sentences in his mind before he spoke. “I found something else…by accident. It was inside the ledger.”

  I sat up straight, my heart racing.

  He picked up the ledger and opened it to the back page then slowly pulled out the four vellum pieces that he’d discovered in the attic a few days ago. He laid them on the table, matching their written words into sentences. We all studied them for a few minutes.

  Tommy D fidgeted in his seat. “What does it all mean?”

  I pointed to the top of the page and slowly read, “Baker Davis Mill.” Below the heading I read out loud the scripted words: “Follow the new road to the river of Namskaket. Travel to the southern ridge of where Harwich meets Eastham. The property of Baker and Sons will be marked with a stake 10 yards from the corner of the oak. Follow a line along the Magnetic North, parallel with the Cove’s inlet.”

  “They’re describing a location,” Nick suggested.

  “That’s right, the Davis Baker Mill site.” My heart was going so fast that I was almost swaying. I couldn’t believe it. This was the same location that was written on the map from the teapot. But I still wasn’t sure where it actually was.

  Tommy D looked at us and then back to the vellum. “What does it mean...where Harwich meets Eastham…where’s Orleans?”

  I needed to remain calm and not give too much away…not yet. It was a struggle to hide my thoughts but I slowly explained, “The town of Orleans was not incorporated until 1797. This document is dated 1720, when the land was called Harwich, not Orleans.”

  “Oh.”

  In my excitement, I forgot myself and went further, “These directions mention the Magnetic North and a cove inlet. If I’m correct, they describe somewhere along Pleasant Bay Road, or Route 28 in Orleans.”

  I could sense that Tommy D was getting keyed up. His eyes grew wider. Now I’ve said too much, I thought. He must be thinking about how he could get his hands on whatever might be hidden, like treasure.

  “I’m not sure if there’s anything else I could help you with,” I lied and returned my attention to study the words on the vellum.

  Tommy looked at me. “I was wondering if there could be any possibility that Davis had treasure of his own. Maybe from the Whydah pirate ship?”

  “Maybe.” I lied again. I knew that Julian did, but I had to keep my theories to myself, for now.

  “Okay.” He picked up the pieces to put them back into the book for safekeeping. He then placed everything into the plastic bag and headed for the door to leave.

  As he rounded the corner of the kitchen, I called after him, “Tommy?”

  He turned around.

  “If I think of anything that might explain more about your books, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks,” he said and closed the foyer door behind him.

  Nick smiled. “Pretty smart, Mrs. C.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Best to keep it quiet. You know what I mean?” His smile made me feel uncomfortable. “Those directions on his paper were the same as the ones on your old map.”

  “Well, I need to think about all of this before I act on anything.”

  “Good idea.”

  We watched Tommy D get into his car. “He must be a pretty lonely kid,” I whispered.

  Nick straightened up from looking out the window. “Yeah, maybe.” A serious look spread over his face. “I’m tired, goodnight.” He disappeared into his room.

  I headed for the kitchen to make some tea and sit for a while. I couldn’t stop thinking about Tommy D. That kid probably just wants to know more about his past. Whether he’s interested in finding treasure or just finding himself and his place in the world, it shouldn’t matter. I had a responsibility to help him.

  ***

  That night, after talking to Paul about what happened with Tommy D, I wrote everything down in my journal. I made a list of what was known in one column and what was still questionable in another. Everything seemed like a jigsaw puzzle. Once in bed, I closed my eyes and went over the facts several times in my head before I could finally feel myself dozing off. I got up at 3 AM to go to the bathroom, but once back in bed I started thinking again about Davis, Tommy D, treasure, and the old books. I tried to clear my mind by meditating. My quiet place or center was always in the woods, but my thoughts kept drifting. The old mill site that the cornerstone group found up in the woods, in Orleans, popped into my head. My eyes opened wide with the idea that the site was near the Cove along Pleasant Bay. Then I remembered Peter saying that we were standing on the Magnetic North…just like in the directions from Tommy D’s old book and the map. I sat straight up in bed and shook Paul on his shoulder. “Paul, wake up.” I had to push him again before he stirred.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I gotta talk to you.”

  “Can’t it wait till morning?”

  “I guess so.” I lay back down but couldn’t fall asleep. It was going to be a long night.

  33

  Present Day

  CAPE COD

  AROUND EIGHT O’CLOCK the next morning, a maroon Toyota idled in the parking lot of the Hyannis bus depot. Loud rap music and a thumping, deep bass masked any outside sounds for the driver. He looked content, nodding in time to the music, his eyes closed.

  The click-clack of a metal knee brace rattled as a passenger from Boston made his way under the canopy and towards the parking area. People kept their distance from the strange looking man. His long, open, black leather coat revealed a black T-shirt and black jeans. He wore a black band around his head, which held in place a patch that covered his right eye. It made his long, gray, frizzy hair stick out on all sides. The older man limped over to the maroon Toyota and banged on its window. “You Silas Maroney?”

  The driver jumped almost three inches out of his seat, dropping his cigarette ashes onto his leg. He swallowed hard. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “I’m your pick-up.” The stranger walked around to the passenger side of the car.

  Silas quickly flicked the hot ashes off his pants leg.
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  The unusual man maneuvered his body onto the torn bucket seat. “Your old man said to look for a crappy red Toyota and that you were a little shit.” He looked the kid up and down. “I guess he was right.”

  ***

  The odometer ticked off miles in rapid succession as Silas drove his car along the highway to Brewster. His passenger never said a word to him during the twenty-five minutes it took to get from the bus station to the small apartment belonging to Silas’s father. He pulled the car to the rear of the house. They both got out and climbed the back steps to the top of the landing. Peeling paint on the door reflected the condition of the dilapidated house.

  Once the door was opened, Silas threw the key on the table. “So what should I call you?”

  “The General.”

  “What?”

  “The General. And don’t ask me any more questions.”

  “No problem.” Silas backed away. “You can have the bed in the back room. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  The General threw his duffel bag into the room. Under his breath, he muttered, “Suits me just fine.”

  “Uh huh,” said Silas. “I got to get to work. Be back around nine.”

  “Don’t care.” The General turned on the TV and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

  “You need anything?”

  The General said nothing. He kicked off his boots and started to massage his knee.

  “Right, then.” Silas shrugged his shoulders and left, slamming the door behind him.

  The General opened the window a crack, and then inspected the small apartment. There it was…his cellmate’s prized possession. The Sylvania record console was piled high on one side with 33-RPM records. The General had become accustomed to listening to the jazz greats, courtesy of Silas’s father. He selected a Benny Goodman vinyl, blew across its surface and placed it on the turntable. With a delicate touch of the diamond needle, the swinging sounds of a clarinet filled the dingy apartment. The old man’s hips swayed a little as his hands moved behind the console. With his forehead touching the wall, he could just about see the gray duct tape. His lips curled into a smile as he peeled it off the wood. The Smith and Wesson .38 revolver attached to the back of the cabinet fit nicely into his hand. As he pulled three bullets off the sticky tape, he whispered a thank you to his old buddy, and then settled in front of the TV to clean his new weapon.