The Maze at Windermere

by Gregory Blake Smith

  As Smithson had never before visited Da Silva, the Jew said that if we did not mind the Roughness he would give us a tour of his Warehouses, tho’ due to the occupying forces and the cessation of Trade he maintained they have been mostly bare these Twelvemonth. Yet he had obtained from Admiral Howe a Passport for a ship to go to sea and would like to check on his Sloop, the only vessel docked at the wharf. We might bring the Amontillado along, he smiled. So we made to go out, Da Silva putting on a cape and Judith a scarlet cloak. We were accompanied at some backwards distance by an African servant named Hannibal in a white powdered wig and carrying the bottle of Sherry with a great deal of Dignity. Phyllis stayed behind.

  Such are these Colonials that even their wealthy Merchants do not mind their houses being situated upon their wharves so that their families are within bowshot of the Tars & Toughs & Stowadores that rat about the Harbour environs. I let Smithson take the brunt of Da Silva’s showing of his Warehouses and Jib cranes and with a casual air fell behind with Judith. I told her how smart she looked in her scarlet cloak and didn’t it match the Royal Welch Fusiliers, holding my forearm up to hers, even pressing against her to show the match. Indeed, I teased, since she already had the Uniform would she not like me to gain her a Commission? She was sure to raise the Quality of the Regiment, particularly if we could effect the Plot underfoot to drum out Smithson and his damned Whiskers. Look, the Spying fellow was glancing back at us even now! She laughed and with a brazen look, called me wicked. Damn my eyes if the girl doesn’t know she is beautiful!

  When we entered the Counting-house there were some of Da Silva’s men there gathered around a fire. They seemed disconcerted by the sudden appearance of their Employer, and bowed their heads and went quickly out to the Wharf. Through the windows we could see the Sloop they were readying moored alongside, a mere Coaster by the look of her. Da Silva had a word with one of his men and then asked might we try the Sherry, and got out glasses. He noted the bottle was from Spain and said it was good, but the very best Amontillado he liked to think came from his home Portugal, tho’ he had left that country too young to have tasted it. Judith said then that surely he did not wish the same Deprivation upon her—did not Major Ballard just say she was too deprived?—and was she not to be allowed a sip with the men? At which Smithson and I laughed, but then exchanged a look, each of us, I suppose, imagining her making such a Remark in front of our Mothers & Sisters.

  Da Silva talked then in a relaxed manner of how we should have seen Newport (the Venice of America she was called, he said) before the Hostilities. The shipwrights & draymen, the smell of tallow & tar, cordage & casks, the half-mile long ropewalks which are now torn down for their timbers, the rich smell from the rum Distilleries. And in the midst of all this commerce were to be seen Negroe footmen in powder-blue livery the equal of any in London, carrying the Nabobs and Grandees of the town in sedan chairs over the cobbled streets. Everything in the town was either being sold or being bought. His own ships brought in molasses, sugar, cotton, nankeen, brass and pewter ware, and carried out rum, candles, lumber, fish, rope. He said once he had a cargo of Narragansett Pacers and had to have his men rig Harnesses in the hold of one of his Brigantines to carry the Beasts without their breaking their legs. The Oeconomy of the town was such that you had to be a Fool or a Gentleman not to grow wealthy.

  And how much of this wealth, I felt called upon to ask as the only Gentleman present (Smithson, I said, could do for the Fool), had come from the Smuggling of goods? For we had heard that the merchant Da Silva had been a great Smuggler in his time, tho’ he professed himself loyal to the Crown now.

  He was not above unloading Hogsheads of molasses in the dead of night, Da Silva said, pouring us each more Sherry and fixing us with a look. The Navigation Acts which forced upon him Inequities of Commerce were an Abomination, he said. He considered himself an Englishman. Yes, a Portuguese Jew, he said, yes, he spoke with this accent, but he was an Englishman all the same, a Freeman, he had papers to prove it. He was a Subject of the King, and as such should not be saddled with Acts that treated him otherwise.

  I looked at Judith to see if this was a shock to her, but she had about herself a look of Pride & Defiance.

  It was worthy of thought, wasn’t it, said Smithson, that those amongst the Colonials who were loyal to the King saw themselves as Patriots, and that those who were disloyal, and were rather loyal to this new Confederation, saw themselves as Patriots too. Whoever should prevail in this Struggle will consider the Patriots of the other side Traitors, would they not? Which group of Patriots, he wondered, would end up at the Extremity of a rope?

  Do you say that to frighten us? Judith asked, and the directness of her Question disconcerted Smithson so that he stumbled about saying he had only meant to draw attention to the Vicissitudes of war, victors, spoils, &c., and that surely the King’s forces would prevail, he did not doubt it, and that Miss Da Silva would be returned to the comfort of her former life. And the whole time Judith had the full force of her Beauty upon him like a Broadside from a Man-o’-war.

  On the way back to the house in which we are Billeted together, Smithson was full of compliments to the Jew, and said what a handsome woman Miss Da Silva would be someday, to which I responded, what did he mean someday? Well, she was but a Child still, he said, and there was an attitude about him of sounding me out. She doesn’t look like a child, I told him coldly, nor does she act like one. At which, he gave me a look, but I would not Satisfy the damned Dwarf.

  Fall 1692

  5th Day, 6 viii mo.

  I felt this morning a Motion of Love to speak of those moments of Grace which I have felt in my Heart. And as I have heard that true Worship consists of an Inward life, I am determin’d to set down on these pages the Map of my Heart and of my Mind, tho’ these be Weak and a girl’s only. By such Employment I might keep Mother’s ink from moulding, and so from wasting. She will not again use it herself.

  Yet now that I am embark’d, and have trimm’d my pen, I can not think of how to say what I meant to say. For I had hoped to record this morning’s strong Exercise of Light, whereby I felt such a Sweetnesse in me, that I might read of it later and profit of it. We were in the Kitchen and Dorcas was playing on the floor when it happen’d. Yet now I can think only of the Ants we discover’d had got in the sugar. For Ashes and I were about the stewing of apples and needed the Sugar to abate the tartness.

  But now that I write that, I am minded of their fruity Odour and how the Light seem’d to come to me through them, so that if I would speak of the Light I must speak of the Apples. I stood there a good moment, and while Ashes continued her peeling, I smell’d in the air and tasted on my tongue the tart Sweetnesse of God’s love. Yet it was not just on my Tongue but was felt over my whole body. And in the whole Kitchen. And out the window, as if the whole world, tho’ it was eighth month, were wimpling as in the Summer’s heat. I saw the Ants and the Sugar and knew One was not more Sweet than the Other. And I saw Ashes’s black hand gripping the white Apples and I knew that their being of a different Colour matter’d not. The slave’s hand was as a Sister to the Apple, and the Apple was as a Sister to the Slave’s hand. Oh, I am a poor Writer and know not how to say this. Yet it was so.

  May God keep me, and little Dorcas, and may Father yet return to Newport safely.

  7th Day

  Martha Coggeshall and Hannah Carr visited me today. Hannah is not a member of the Society of Friends and so does not keep plain. But she is of a good and warm Heart, and an old friend, and she took me by the hand and kiss’d me on the cheek and call’d me her Prudence with much love. We took up some yarn and play’d at cratch-cradle and then went into the Dooryard and mark’d in the hard earth the boxes for Scotch-hoppers. I tried to be as I was before, for I knew they had come out of Concern for me, and out of Love for our old Sorority. But such are the Afflictions that have burden’d me, and so the Worries, that tho’ I tried to be Prudence their o
ld Playmate yet I could not. And it made me feel that I had lost myself, that the old Prudy had gone away. And that verse of Corinthians sounded over and over in my ear: that when I was a Child I had spoken and understood as a Child, but now I had been made to put away childish things.

  We soon gave over our Games, and sat on the stone wall, which was cold coming through our clothes, and talk’d as we were wont to do, and that made me more at ease. Then we walk’d down to the Harbour, leaving Dorcas with Ashes.

  It was a bright day, with some Bluster so that the leaves were showering down, yellow and brown and scarlet. And there was the autumne Smell that I love. Hannah who always has a little Money bought us some Gingerbread Men at Sarah Wilson’s shop on Thames Street and we ate as we walk’d. We pass’d the slave Barracks at the head of Bullock’s Wharf. Martha does not like going past it, but I told them there were no Africans there now, Captain Easton’s having been sold off the week past, and those that hadn’t sold being taken to the south. We went to the water’s edge and look’d out at Goat Island. There were five Ships in the harbour, and they baited me to tell them what they were, for they know Father has taught me. Thee are such a know-all, Prudy Selwyn! they cried. And so I told them: two Bermuda sloops, a Snow, a Dutch fluyt, and a Ketch, tho’ that latter I could not be sure wasn’t a Yawl. And there were several wherries for going up the Island, but they do not count.

  From the second-floor door of his Warehouse William Reed call’d out in his hearty manner that he was glad to see I had for once brought my friends with me, which dismay’d me for I would not have them know that I have the Habit these past Weeks of coming down to the waterside to watch for Father. It is such a stupid thing to do.

  We then teas’d Hannah about Henry Whitlow, and that was diverting and I hope not mean, for her cheeks were burning but she was all alight with Humor and Secrets. Martha and I took leave of her at her House and then return’d to the Point, Martha kissing my cheek good-bye and saying she would see me next first-day at Meeting.

  Today, my friends did cheer me, and I take this moment to thank the Lord for sending them to me.

  3rd Day

  This morning when I went out Jane Beecher was next door in her Yard, and she ask’d whether we should not set a Day for our soap-making, for the Snow would be coming before long. This pleas’d me, for she had always done so with Mother, and now it seems she means to do so with me.

  We did not speak of Father, or of her husband James. Though each of us surely knows the Fear in the other’s Heart, there is nothing to be had by speaking of it. We must pray and wait.

  4th Day

  I read from the Holy Scriptures to Ashes today and then took up Dorcas and we walk’d to Mother’s Grave. I had to carry her upon my Hip for some Part of the way for tho’ it is not so far, yet it is too far for her infant’s legs. We went through the narrow streets of the Point uphill to the Burial Ground. I was tired when we arrived for I am not strong, or am still too much a Child to carry a Babe for long.

  Dorcas knows Mother’s grave, for the colour of the slate is more blue than the others, and the grave bed is not yet sodded over. She says Mamma to it in a most piteous way. I have tried to tell her our Mother is in Heaven, but she saw the men put Mother’s corpse in the box, and then the box in the ground, and she will not give up the Surety of her babe’s eyes.

  There is no Inscription on the Slate for I did not think I should spend so much without Father’s Approval. When he returns we will have one made. O! I was downhearted and felt an aching Sorrow that Father does not yet know his belov’d Wife is dead!

  In the Scriptures, Dorcas is rais’d from the dead. And this for her good works in the World. Would that it could be so with Mother!

  I did try to comfort Dorcas and tell her our Mother is in Heaven and watching us. And when she was calm’d we lay down together on the turf and look’d up at the sky, which is all I could tell her of where Heaven is. She kept asking Where? and all I could say was that she was in the Blue of the Sky. And I said that tho’ we could not see her, she could see us.

  The Ground was cold. The Lord keep us.

  5th Day

  Today Ashes would not answer to her name as she sometimes is wont most annoyingly to do. She says her name is Ama. She says if I want her help, I must call her Ama as her mother and sister did. If Father were here he would fix her for that, I know, but he is not.

  She has a pock’d face for which I have heard Father say more than once he purposely selected her that she might not die aftertimes of the Smallpox. He accounted it a sign of sound Oeconomy. Yet I think her pocks are but the type for her most spiteful and horrid Heart. She will be difficult!

  In a few days it will run out of her as it always does.

  6th Day

  I returned today some books Henry Dodson was good enough to loan me and have borrowed some others. I have read in Mr. Williams’s The Bloudy Tenent, and in Mr. Cotton’s answer to him, and in The Pilgrim’s Progress, and now I have Mistress Bradstreet’s The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America and a book of the Ancients’ stories of the pagan gods and of the Heroes. This last was given me with some Anxiety by Ruth Dodson who is herself a lover of the pagan stories, tho’ she admits it is a weakness, yea, a Wickedness she says, tho’ with a rueful smile at herself. They give them to me that I may be educated, as I am no longer at school. And for this favor I am most grateful, for the reading fills me with a type of Light, and transports me from the Troubles and Sorrows with which I am beset.

  2nd Day

  This morning a most lovely Indwelling of Light. There was a black-capp’d Titmouse in the bush outside the Kitchen window and it sang its simple two-note song and I felt the whole of Creation was in those two notes. It was as a Truth reveal’d to me. There were those two notes, one high, one its lower neighbor, and all else was but the noise of our Confusion.

  It is gone now I write it. But I did feel it, and it gave me a deep Peace.

  3rd Day

  I have had a second Visit from John Peele. He came this time with John Cole who is much esteem’d in our Society and with Esther Pennington who has often I thought look’d kindly upon me. We sat in our small Parlour. I had Ashes serve us Cider. They ask’d did I not want to be back at the School, did I not miss it? To which I answer’d that I had my penmanship and my sums and that I had begun to keep Accounts for Father as Mother had done, and that I was reading the books that I had borrowed, and my Schooling was enough for that. But thee are accounted a fine Scholar, John Peele said with a smile I suppose at such lavish Praise, and might assist the schoolteacher in her duties, he said, helping the younger girls. To which I replied I had the running of my Father’s Household and the caretaking of Dorcas, and I could not put that aside. He smil’d as with Apology and was silent.

  Esther Pennington then ask’d was there anything I needed that the Friends might help me with. I thank’d her and said no, that for the time being our wants were supplied.

  John Cole, not having said anything to this point, sat forward in his chair and drew himself together as with an Intention to speak. I had a sudden fore-knowledge that he would tell me Father was lost. He spoke in a solemn voice and said that the sloop Patience had return’d yesterday from Barbados and brought with it news that Father’s sloop had yet to make the port at Bridgetown. I was at the moment reliev’d that the news was not worse, but of course in another moment I understood the Import of what he said. But there is no news of the Dove being lost, I heard my voice bravely saying. No direct news, said John Cole. But it has not arriv’d, he repeated. After which we were silent. I look’d at Esther Pennington and her face was so gentle and tender of me that I could not keep myself, and I was overcome with tears in a way that sham’d me, and makes my Face grow hot even now when I write it.

  They moved to comfort me but I made it known I did not wish it. To hide my Agitation I spoke several hurried things I know not what. The
y did then urge on me that there were Several among our Society who had experienc’d a Motion in regard to Dorcas and me and had offer’d to take us in. To which I said that I would not have Father return to find that we had deserted his Household. They said it need not be so, for when he return’d, they said, we would surely be reunited. And much more of the like. Their faces were pain’d and urgent. I thank’d them but I did not submit. I told them I would await the Lord’s Light on this matter, as in all Matters.

  5th Day

  At Night sometimes I am afear’d of such things as do not run in my mind by Day. I hear strange Noises and account them the presence of Spirits, or of Thieves, or mayhap someone of our town who has set his Sights on me. Then it is I wish most awfully that Mother was in her room with Father. I try to quiet these Fears with Prayer, hoping thereby to be deliver’d from the Dark. And I do sometimes talk to Mother, that she might know I am still here. Sometimes the thought of her listening to my Voice quiets me.

  I am put in mind of a most dreadful Incident of some weeks back while Mother was lingering sick. I know not how to explain it for it is like an Apparition to me. I lay in bed and in the middle of the Night woke and became convinc’d that a shadow in the hallway just outside the Doorway to my room was a malevolent Presence. It moved only slightly, as in a light breeze, and I could not tell what it was, but I knew that I must not move or make a sound or it would know I was there and it would come and have me. How long I stayed in this State as in a Trance, I know not. But I was long frozen in Terror. Only when Daybreak came and the Shadows slowly chang’d did my Spirit relax that I might fall asleep. But to this present time I know not whether some Person or some strange Specter was there, or whether it was all my Fancy.