Lightning Mary

by Anthea Simmons

  I realised that I was powerless to do anything, both hands being occupied. What if nothing could be seen? What if I needed to dig away the mud? Maybe I could just kick it off?

  There was no ledge on which to rest. I could only hang on for dear life, the ropes around my waist cutting into me, my palms already raw. I prayed to God that there would be something to see. Something to prove the monster’s presence.

  There, sticking out from between the layers, was a slice of stone, dotted with bones, some tile-like, others longer and all fanning out from the end of a much thicker bone, like to the foreleg of a giant hog.

  The silent man followed my gaze, but looked confused. ‘Is that what you hoped for?’ he asked. ‘For it looks like no more than stones to me.’

  ‘Not stones,’ I said. ‘Bones. I think that we have found the creature’s hand!’

  ‘It looks like no hand I have ever seen!’

  ‘Like no hand anyone has ever seen!’ I cried, anxious to be back up on the cliff top. ‘Pull us up!’

  ‘Nay, missus!’ smiled the silent man. ‘You’ve to pull yourself up!’ And he showed me how it was done.

  Clambering back up was harder than going down, even with Josiah pulling on the extra rope, and once again I found myself face down at the top of the cliff, my heart racing, barely believing I had survived. After a few minutes, I got up and undid the ropes.

  Joseph was looking at me with pride and curiosity. ‘Well? Is it there?’ he asked.

  ‘It is! Now,’ I turned to Josiah, ‘we must devise a way for me to get to it so that I may dig it out!’

  21

  WHAT MANNER OF CREATURE IS THIS?

  Josiah made me a sort of platform which was more like a swing, in truth, for it was a thick plank hung from two ropes lashed to new stakes on the cliff top and the slightest movement sent it rocking like a boat on the waves.

  Mother walked up the hill but could not bring herself to look over the edge at my device. I had become skilled at getting myself down the cliff face and then onto the plank and it quite amused me to see Mother’s face go pale with fear as I leaped backwards over the edge.

  ‘What a creature you are, Mary, to be hanging off a cliff, hunting for monsters. How did I ever birth such a body?’ she shouted to me, her voice quavering with worry.

  Within a week, Joseph and I had winched up the wedge of stone containing the ‘hand’ which I soon realised must in reality be the beast’s foot or fin. Joseph was not impressed by it at all. He just saw a jumble of bones, but a theory was building in my head and I needed only to find more to be able to prove it. Elizabeth, of course, was as excited as I was and not at all upset that I had not told her of my find before. We gave each other secret looks of glee as the weeks went by and the treasure grew and grew.

  I had devised a simple method for getting the smaller pieces back up the cliff. I tied one end of a long rope to one of the stakes and the other to a sack and dropped that over the edge. I could not sketch anything while I was wobbling on the plank so I had to stare at each piece and commit it to memory before dropping it in the sack. I gave Mother the job of hauling it up and emptying it out on the grass but she would not come close enough to the edge to throw it back down again so she was not of much use. Still, she and Joseph took their turn, she by day, he on Saturdays and Sundays between Chapel services and in the evenings after work, waiting on the grass, holding onto my safety rope and checking the stakes to make sure they did not work loose.

  The cliff face really was like the pages of a book made of thick vellum and the bones were revealed on a slab like a page pulled out from the binding. It was hard work digging into the rock while the swing moved from side to side. Sometimes I felt quite seasick. I knew I must never look down so I was very careful not to drop anything and, besides, who knows how long it would have taken me to find it again at the bottom of the cliff?

  People came to stare at me, some out of curiosity, some out of concern. I would not have been surprised to see the old crone who had had so much pleasure from the coach smash, but perhaps it was too far for her old legs. Two girls came to giggle and squeal. One of them threw me down an apple, which nearly struck me and I made the mistake of watching it bounce down the cliffs, getting smashed to small pieces as it went. It was a waste of an apple and it was a while before I felt composed enough to continue. I could not stop the vision of my father’s accident from forming in my head. I told the girls to go away.

  ‘You are very brave, Mary Anning!’ one of them shouted over the edge. ‘I could not do such a thing!’

  Was I brave? I didn’t think so. I was quite frightened most of the time, but then Harry May told me that that was what true bravery was – doing something when you were afraid.

  Then, one day all was changed. The rain came. It fell in torrents, and for five days I could not get to the cliff – and when I did, nothing remained of my platform save one post, and that was pulled almost out of the ground.

  I went as close to the edge as I dared. It was a scene of devastation, my platform gone and with it a goodly chunk of the cliff, but my heart leaped in my chest.

  I ran back down the hill and onto the beach as fast as I could, stumbling in the mud as I scrambled towards the fresh landslip.

  There was the rest of the page! A long slab, split to reveal almost as many remnants of the monster as I had already uncovered. Another ‘hand’, with three long spindly ‘fingers’ all made up of tiny tiles and a long, long tail, maybe as long as I was tall. My dragon! My monster! If only Father was there, or Henry. I fell onto my knees and felt a storm brew up in my head, all the Marys rushing about. I had never felt so alive or so alone.

  I was so proud to tell Mother and Elizabeth that I had succeeded in my goal.

  What a mistake it was to tell Mother, though, for she gossiped and word spread like wildfire. The shore became crowded with gawpers. How it amused and irritated me to observe people’s disappointed or disgusted faces when they saw the great mounds of bones yet to be assembled. What did they expect? My task had scarce begun!

  Joseph, Nathaniel and I barrowed the bones back to Cockmoile Square to stand in muddy heaps, awaiting my attention.

  ‘Don’t look like nothing to me!’ complained the housekeeper from Colway Manor, the grand home of Lord Henley, but she went back and told His Lordship’s manservant and he told his master and next thing we knew a message was sent that His Lordship wished to see the creature and that it must be brought up to him for viewing.

  The stupidity of such a request put me in a very bad humour but Mother, of course, was anxious for a sale and sent her ‘humble request’ that he visit.

  He came the very next day.

  ‘Well, the skull is rather fine, I suppose,’ His Lordship said languidly, holding a handkerchief over his nose as fancy folk are wont to do, their noses being so very intolerant of anything but their own stink. ‘But as for these’ – he gestured at the piles with his cane – ‘these are of no interest at all! I will take the beast’s head, however.’

  ‘You won’t and you are wrong, sir,’ I said, ignoring Mother’s look of horror. ‘And ignorant, I daresay.’

  Mother had gone quite white, His Lordship quite silent.

  ‘But that is not your fault, for you can never have seen such a creature before,’ I added, for it seemed he must somehow be excused. ‘And if you return a month from now, you will see how wrong you were. Now, if you please, I have a great deal of work to do!’

  Mother, now red-faced, led him away. It was to be hoped that he had more ready money in his pocket than he had brains in his skull.

  I had persuaded Joseph and Nathaniel to move the beast to Father’s old workshop, which was empty, and there I began to lay it out so that it might be seen whole. Miss Philpot was away in London, or I would have had her help me.

  How did I know where each piece belonged in a creature no one had ever seen? I had observed and rebuilt a great many skeletons, just as Mr D
e Luc had advised me to do when I saw that dead horse, and when I had studied my precious eel skull which still sits by my bed. Putting a creature together seems to me as natural as breathing.

  Joseph had built me a shallow bed for the creature, a bit like a tray, which I filled with clay into which I could press the bones, sprinkling water in the clay from time to time to keep it damp and covering it with a damp cloth by night. Little by little, day by day, the creature’s body grew back from its great head, the long arched spine, the huge ribcage all took shape. As I placed each piece, joined each vertebra (which was the proper name for them, Elizabeth said), it was as if I could feel the creature twist and turn beneath my touch. The ‘hands’ still confused me. I laid them out as I had found them and suddenly I could see quite clearly what they were because they reminded me of an oar held in place by the rollock, the blade beating back the water. My monster swam in the sea, his great fins like paddles, sending him through the water with the ease of a bird flying in the sky. I could see these pictures in my head as clearly as if they were real, but I could not easily explain them to anybody else except Elizabeth.

  I worked away on my own and in silence until one afternoon, when I was interrupted.

  ‘That is quite some monster you have there! May I come and look?’

  A figure stood in the doorway, blocking out the light. For a moment, I thought it was Henry, but this was someone older and taller.

  ‘If you must,’ I said, but he was already in, dancing round the bones, twiddling his hat and whooping with excitement.

  ‘Oh my word! What a specimen! What a find! What a clever thing you are! Remarkable! Remarkable! Oh, my dear! This is quite stupendous!’

  ‘Will you stop with your jigging, sir,’ I said and I was quite cross because he danced so close that one false move might send bones flying, undoing weeks of work.

  ‘What? Yes, of course! Look at that head! That magnificent head! That eye! Can you imagine that eye, rolling in that socket, seeking out its prey, hunting in the gloomy depths! And those teeth! What a creature! What a creature!’

  He paused for breath and held out his hand.

  ‘Buckland. William. Fellow, Corpus Christi. Mineralogist! Friend of Miss Elizabeth Philpot. Heard all about you! Heard about your creature. Had to come straightaway and see it for myself! Magnificent! So, what’s your theory, ma’am? What is this beast, d’you think?’ The mad fellow of Corpus Christi, whoever or whatever that might be, was hopping from one leg to another in his excitement.

  ‘Lord Henley says he is a giant crocodile,’ I replied cautiously.

  ‘Ah, but you do not think that, do you? I see by your face that you do not! What do you think? He’s not a crocodile. Seen plenty of those. He’s not a fish. He’s not a lizard. What’s this fellow’s name, eh? Shall we give him a name? Fish Lizard? Would that do?’

  ‘Fish Lizard is not a very scientific name,’ I countered, almost lost for words.

  ‘It’s not. It’s not, dear lady, you are quite right. We must give him a proper name, shall we? Ichthyosaurus. Ichthyosaur. Ichthy, fish and saurus, lizard. Sound about right to you? Of course I will have to discuss it with my scientific colleagues before we settle on such a title but it will do for now. What a beast! Would not want to meet that whilst you were taking the waters, would you? By Jove, no!’

  ‘Do you want to buy it?’ I asked, for I was beginning to tire of all his noise and hopping about.

  ‘How I wish I could! How I very much wish I could! No money, dear lady!’ He pulled his pockets inside out to prove it. ‘We scholars live on short rations, I can tell you! Must you sell it? I suppose you must. On short rations yourself, I shouldn’t wonder. Take care you get a fair price. There are fellows who would take advantage of a lady.’

  ‘They will not easily take advantage of me,’ I said, showing him the door, for I was quite exhausted.

  ‘Indeed not! Indeed not! I will leave you to your labours. What patience! This is the work of many months, I can see that! What an achievement! A remarkable find, dear lady. Remarkable! An honour to meet you. Heard so much. Your fame. Spreading. Remarkable! So young! So wise! Remarkable! William Buckland. At your service!’

  And with a last ‘remarkable’ which seemed to be his favourite word, he finally disappeared.

  Elizabeth was most amused when I told her of his visit and imitated him rushing about and talking nineteen to the dozen. ‘He’s worth knowing, Mary,’ she informed me. ‘He is well respected for his academic work and has the very best connections in our field of interest, though I grant he is a very eccentric fellow!’

  Eccentric? Quite deranged, if you ask me!

  I told Henry about him too, and it seemed Elizabeth was right, for Henry wrote back to say that he was envious of me spending my time in the company of such illustrious folk as William Buckland while he was forced to play at soldiers and fall off his horse at regular intervals.

  ‘You’ll be more of an expert geologist than I’ll ever be, at this rate,’ he wrote. ‘But what a pity that you must sell the creature, the Fish Lizard! I can only hope it makes your fortune!’

  My fortune? What would Lord Henley of Colway Manor pay for a Fish Lizard?

  Not a fortune, it seemed.

  ‘Twenty-five pounds. Take it or leave it.’ Lord Henley had sent his estate manager to pay for the creature. A stony-faced, stony-hearted man, evidently quite set on carrying out his orders to the letter and giving no ground.

  ‘Is Lord Henley going to keep it? Is he going to keep it or sell it on?’ I demanded, for I knew of folk who had bought curiosities from me for pennies and sold them to their rich friends for pounds, something which made me very angry indeed.

  ‘It is of no business to you what His Lordship chooses to do with his possessions, and since the beast was found on his land he is being more than generous in paying you at all!’

  ‘That’s as may be, but he did not have the talent to find it, the skill or patience to dig it out or the sense to see what a creature it was!’ said I.

  The manager’s face changed not one jot. ‘You’ll not get a better offer. In point of fact, you’ll not get another offer.’

  He cast a disdainful gaze around our kitchen, noting the empty shelves, the one chair. I felt my anger rising but, before I could stop her, Mother had said ‘Done’ and stuffed the little bag of coins in her pinny.

  And that was that. Gone in a trice.

  I did not help them as they loaded my monster in his bed of clay into a crate and onto the cart. The crate looked like a coffin to me. A coffin for a giant. That creature had been my life for more than a year and now it was gone, leaving me only the drawings in my sketchbook and a pain in my heart.

  I went round to the alehouse to pay Josiah, but he would not take the money. He said I was the bravest little maid he had ever met and it had been a pleasure to be of assistance. How surprising people are! There seems no way to tell for certain from their outside whether they’ll be nice or nasty.

  I felt quite lost for many days after. I had no energy for anything, no inclination to go searching, even though Elizabeth told me over and over again that if there was one monster out there, there would be others.

  The truth was that I missed the excuse to spend day after day in Father’s workshop. Even though not so much a splinter of wood or a speck of sawdust remained, I could still feel close to him somehow. The monster had taken his place in my life and then it had brought me close to him again and now it was gone and he was gone.

  Lord Henley sold my monster on, of course. William Buckland told Elizabeth and she could not keep it secret from me because she was so outraged on my behalf. William Bullock’s Museum of Natural Curiosities paid one hundred pounds, so it was said, but that might have been a falsehood. It was Joseph’s name that went on the cabinet when it was displayed and I suppose he did find the skull, but only because I knew where to look.

  There was no use moaning about it. Some days it made
me angry. Some days I did not care at all. Mostly, it made me grit my teeth, determined to show them what I, Lightning Mary, could do, woman or not. But there were days, dark days, when I felt as if I had lined up for a race and then been told to take two steps back because I was poor, and then two steps back because Father had been a Dissenter, and then ten steps back because I was not a man. Yet, for all that, I could still beat them.

  Only thing was, even when I won, they would not give me the prize.

  22

  REMEMBRANCE AND REUNION

  That monster, that extraordinary find, sometimes felt as if it had been the start of my life and the end of it. I have never paid much attention to people’s opinion of me, for what do opinions matter? They cannot change a body or that is what I have always believed. It is hard, though, to be unaffected by the talk and I see how it hardened me and made me both more determined and more clear-sighted about how people use other people for their own ends.

  For some, I was a prodigy to be admired. For others, I was dismissed as an oddity, a curiosity to be gawped at and prodded like the two-headed calf paraded at the fair in Uplyme. Few thought there was skill in my find, only luck... and that luck down to Joseph’s discovery. They could not know what pains I had taken and they were not interested enough to find out.

  There was an expectation that I would find more. It was an expectation I had of myself too. And it was an expectation Mother had, for she had acquired a taste for the fame – and for the money to be made from a large find.

  Fame brought me other attention that I neither welcomed nor relished. Seems it was my fate to be the subject of a childish rhyme once again, often chanted by children as I made my way across the beach. ‘She sells sea shells on the seashore’ was, I must own, kinder than the cruel ditty sung at Sunday school. When I first heard it, it almost made me smile, but the fact that it was also much harder for folk to get their tongue around gave me more satisfaction!

  It is one thing to drive oneself with the desire for knowledge and discovery. It is quite another to have others pushing and demanding and criticising. Only Elizabeth understood how hard it was for me, with all the warring Marys in my head – the one who despaired of ever finding anything of such import ever again; the one who despised the gawpers and hated the pressure to earn money, wasting time which might have been spent learning and studying and being a true scientist; the one who fought back the tears at the loss of Father; the one who wondered what manner of creature she herself was. Sometimes, their clamour drove me near to madness. There was no peace from them, it seemed.