Maya's Aura: Destroy the Tea Party

by Smith, Skye

  The taxes were just an outcome of the banker's interest. The loss of jobs will be another outcome of the interest. The loss of fortunes will be due to the business debts that are costing interest. A lot of good can come from taxes, like roads and schools, whereas interest just lines the pockets of the bankers. Taxes to build roads are good. Taxes to pay interest are bad."

  On and on they argued about taxes and interest and the effect on merchants and jobs, and who would win and who would lose. They were looking for something that the people all hated enough to rally against now that taxes were about to become a non issue.

  Samuel wanted the new issue to be the bankers, Hancock wanted it to be the governor, and John Adams wanted it to be jobs. Some guy with a bad wig kept talking about the share market crash because of crooked bankers at the Ayr bank in Scotland.

  Some wanted to continue pushing the refusal to buy imports. Hancock wanted only Company imports to be refused. Not a one of them one suggested freeing slaves or fighting for the rights of the indentured workers.

  On it went. Endlessly. Britta was bored to distraction and was impatient for it to end so that Mercy could read her love letter. Then Sam started losing control of his emotions, and then the meeting.

  "Greedy bankers created this whole mess. The Ayr bank is not the only one run by crooks," Sam remained seated while he spoke. "The cost of the world war allowed the bankers to break the governments tally stick system which has built the empire up since the time of the Normans. With the tally stick system broken, Parliament has handed the empire to the bankers. It took our Puritan movement two hundred years to put a leash on the kings, and now we must leash the bankers."

  There was an uproar. The man with the loudest voice yelled out, "The purpose of this committee it to keep pushing for more and more home rule. That is a issue of government, not banking."

  "What does is matter if we have George as our king, or if we elect our own king, if either king is ruled by the same bankers and moneylenders. Remember the real reason why our Lord Christ was crucified. He flung the moneylenders out of the temple." Sam was so angry he slammed his fist on the table and stood and walked out of the room.

  Mercy put down her plume, and capped her ink. "Well, that has torn it for the day. Sam has left so that these men can freely discuss his leadership. A few weeks without Jemmy's calming influence and they are already splitting apart. Come, girl. I will help you make more drinks for this lot, and then we will speak of love charms."

  * * * * *

  Britta tried not to watch Mercy as she read her letter. She almost jumped each time she heard the scratching of her plume. It was not a long letter, only one page, but Mercy was taking a long time. Or so it seemed. Finally it was handed back to her.

  "But except for changing 'yours truly' for 'always yours' you have done nothing but correct the spelling," said Britta. "yet you read it over and over again."

  "Oh my dear," replied Mercy as she dabbed her hanky to the corner of one eye. "I read it once to correct the spelling and three times dreaming that it was sent to me."

  "But what of my wording? When I wrote them I wasn't thinking of how they look on paper. On paper they look like silly nonsense. Like this one: I long for you to hold me tightly in your arms and swirl me gently through the waltz of life to the music of our hearts, beating as one."

  "Oh, Britta, the phrases are fine, more than fine. If I could capture such silly nonsense into words, do you think I would be wasting my skills writing political satires?"

  "Then you will make a good copy for me?"

  "No, child. You will copy it in your own hand and then rub some of that lovely scent you wear onto the edges of the paper."

  "It's lily of the valley. Lydia makes it."

  "Copy it now, and I will make sure it gets to Jim as soon as possible. I must go back to the meeting and see what has been decided," she sighed, "if anything."

  * * * * *

  The next week, Jim took a furlough from his reading with the excuse of his father's illness, and slept every night in Britta's bed. Ruth's plan to keep them apart until Jim forgot her, or found someone more appropriate, had backfired. He only visited his mother because Britta forced him to visit Jemmy. Jemmy was happy that Jim was staying at the coffee shop because it meant that he was a source news about the latest crisis in the committee.

  The news was no news. The committee was organizing demonstrations against the corruption of the governor for those who did not like Parliament, and against the drinking of tea for those who did not like the Company. None of the demonstrations were well attended They were just a reminder to everyone to stay on their toes as decisions of importance to the province were expected any day now from London.

  Jim's presence put Britta in the best of moods, and everyone in the shop benefited when Britta was smiling and chatting and humming and dancing while she worked. It may have been more to do with the lengthening of the days and the springtime warmth in the sun, but all the regulars swore that their own improving humor was due to the warmth of her smile and the soft happiness of her voice.

  * * * * *

  The general good humor around the Anchor Coffee Shoppe lasted well after Jim had gone back to Harvard and into May. Britta became eighteen on May Day, and was hugely disappointed. Not only could Jim not visit, as he had promised, because he was behind in his reading, but the Boston Puritans did not celebrate spring's fertility with a May Faite.

  She ranted to Jemmy, who was now well enough to visit the shop again, "Why do Puritans deny the obvious? Is it that they think that the lambing and colting and the flowers and the plantings are not worth celebrating? Is the promise of renewal really of so little importance as to snub the gifts of the goddess? Or is it all because they think that sex is bad. It is greed for sex that is bad, not sex itself."

  "Hmm, like money. It is the greed for money that is the root of all evil, not the money itself." replied Jemmy, ignoring her blasphemy. He was allowed to visit the shop during daylight hours and only when there were no meetings. At least no official meetings, not all the men who came here searching him out.

  "Are you saying that sex is related to money," she laughed.

  "Oh, did I tell you that Lydia got all her money, finally? The slave money that is. Red told me that her remaining slaves chose freedom so long as they could keep working on the farm. There is some contract problem with two boys that are working in a tavern in Providence. They will be freed when their contract expires."

  "So the status of the Black women has not changed then," said Britta. "They are free in name only."

  "Not at all, but it is a transition that will take time. They still have a home, and food, and work. The little pay they earn beyond room and board, they can save. The difference is that if they have a better offer, or an offer of marriage, they can take it."

  "Unless there are no jobs, like John Adams keeps warning of. They could be replaced by someone younger, prettier, who would work longer and harder for less." She held Jemmy's hand. "Or offer to work on her back, as well."

  "No, never, not with Lydia there," Jemmy objected.

  "I suppose you are right. Why shouldn't they have the same worries as the rest of the poor free folk of the provinces."

  "You cannot have freedom without insecurity. You, for instance, are not free to walk through the dock areas without feeling insecure." Jemmy wrote down the thought. "How about this. Insecurity is the flip side of the coin of freedom." Britta wrinkled her nose. "Umm, what if I reverse it? Slavery is the flip side of the coin of security." He wrote them both down. He was writing a speech for Sam and new catchy sayings were always useful.

  "Ah, well," Jemmy said capping his ink, "I must go home now. The committee will be back soon from the Hall."

  "Another meeting at the Hall. That never seems to go well."

  "Well, it is a time for decisions. Everyone now knows what decisions were made in London. They have eliminated most of the import taxes. The only one left is the one on Chinese tea,
and it has dropped to twelve percent. Of course we knew all of this a month ago but the law should have been passed by Parliament by now.

  The good news is that Parliament's intentions seem to be a positive attempt to fix what is broken. There is even a hint that they may investigate our Governor Hutchinson for possible corruption. The bad news is that now we must wait for the Company to name who is to be their consignees in each of the provinces.

  Some very wealthy local men are very upset, that is, the ones who have caused problems for the company. Those with connections with smuggling will obviously not be chosen. The Company is bound to snub Boston and Newport based ships because of their links to the smugglers, and give their business to the Quaker fleet out of Nantucket."

  "That's nothing new," Maya said absentmindedly, not really listening, "I came here on a Nantucket ship under contract to the company. The Company uses Quaker ships because there is much less pilferage. Do you think your cousin John is right and there will be a lot of jobs lost here in Boston?"

  "It's already happening. Think about all the Boston ships that usually take cargo to England and back? They are idle. So are the merchants that sold those cargoes. The same will be true in Rhode Island. That I do fear, for the Rhodes ships carry slaves and act like privateers. Their crews are men of action and violence."

  Jemmy tied up his folder of papers and put on his coat. "Keep your folk close the shop for the next few days. There is bound to be fights between those that are to be ruined and those that are to become rich. Bloody Hutchinson. This is all his fault, yet he stands to gain more than anyone."

  "What do you mean? I thought this was Company business, not government business."

  "Ahh, but our bloody Governor Hutchinson has his own list of merchants that he is recommending to the Company to use as consignees. You can be sure all the names on his list will be from his extended family. The bounder's greed and corruption are boundless."

  Maya was suddenly paying attention. She finally got it. "But the Company must know better than to choose any merchants that he recommends. It will cause riots. There will be blood in the streets."

  "Isn't that what I just said? Keep your folk close to home." Jemmy waved goodbye and went out the door.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  MAYA'S AURA - Destroy the Tea Party by Skye Smith

  Chapter 15 - The British Coffee House

  "This Hutchinson guy was a really nasty piece of work," sighed Maya as she looked up from her netbook screen. "Like he was almost single handedly responsible for the War of Independence. Look at all the trouble and violence and the number of lives he ruined, just because he was a local guy trying to look good to his bosses in England."

  "Was he a local?" asked Nana. "Are you sure? He always seems to be portrayed as a 'durn foreigner from England'. Show me." Nana read from the screen. "Well I'll be. Massachusetts born and bred. And yet he was worse than any of the English born governors. I wonder why someone didn't just shoot the bastard. It would have saved a lot of lives."

  "I found it out by accident. I was actually looking up how Jemmy got hurt, you know, the blow that caused his mental and addiction problems. It was outside the British Coffee House, after he had given a good speech there against the governor and his cronies. Afterwards he was attacked with a heavy cane by some customs officer."

  Just thinking of the British Coffee House clicked something else in her mind, and Maya zoned out.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  "Why not?" said Britta to John Adams. "I just want to compare my business to theirs. The Anchor Coffee Shoppe is small compared to the Crown Coffee House and the British Coffee House. I am sure that neither Mr. Selby nor Mr. Cordis would begrudge me a look at their premises and their menus. Do you think I should dress like a Puritan or like an Anglican?"

  John was blushing, and he never blushed. "Britta dear, there is no comparison between your shop and their houses. The businesses are totally different."

  "But every Whig that drinks my chocolate also drinks at those Houses. Sometimes I think that the only reason they come here at all is because of Sam and Jemmy, and that they would much rather be at the Crown. If I am to improve my shop then I must see the competition for myself."

  "Please don't ask me to take you. Not me. What if my wife finds out. I'll never hear the end of it."

  "You still haven't answered my original question," Britta pulled him into the galley with her, out of sight of the old men reading papers and playing Damas. Her sales were dropping off each week and she needed to know why. It couldn't all be due to the warm weather. "Why not?"

  John was very aware of her young body and the honey-colored skin of her cleavage. With the warmer weather she was showing more and more skin, and wearing colorful clothes. He inwardly moaned and then hoped he had not moaned aloud. "Both houses are not really in the business of selling tea and coffee. Their sales are mostly hard spirits and wine."

  "So they are taverns then, not coffee shops," she said.

  "Not taverns so much as drinking clubs for wealthy gentlemen. That is why Selby and Cordis don't view your shop as competition. You earn from the tea and coffee. Their competition is the fine dining rooms that have been opening up recently. The coffee houses look tawdry compared to the new dining rooms, and the new places encourage the wives and daughters to dine with their men."

  "So you are saying that I can't visit the coffee houses because women are not allowed," she said.

  "Oh, women are allowed, just not ladies. The wives of Boston call such women by names other than ladies. There are bedrooms upstairs, well-appointed rooms, that can be rented by the hour, if a gentleman should have the need."

  "Whores," said Britta matter of factly and without a trace of the scorn most Puritans attached to the word.

  "Oh, no, far too expensive and charming to be whores. Shall we say escorts."

  "Then if women are allowed," she decided to tease him because he was blushing and couldn't keep his eyes from the lace above her breasts, "then take me," she finished in a sultry and suggestive tone.

  He came back from his view of heaven with a start. "No, it would be the end of my marriage. Why, as soon as we entered together everyone would assume... assume... assume the worst."

  "Pah, John, my customers are their customers. They would all know me, and know you, and they would assume nothing but the truth. That I was there as a spy."

  Now John was so flustered he did not trust himself to speak. A few times the men on the committee had suggested that they make use of Britta's beauty to spy on the governor. Both he and Mercy had been outraged at the suggestion. He did not know where to look but he could not look at her. He focused on his pistol box on the shelf above the cups. "A spy for whom?" he finally said.

  Men are so dense, she thought. "A spy for this business that I run. Who else would I spy for?"

  "Why, for the wives of the men who drink at the coffee houses. Those sitting with escorts would be most upset if any of the wives were ever brought inside. The gossip trees of our wives are far more efficient than those of our political committees."

  "Oh, of course. I didn't think of that. I know many of the wives from church, and they do occasionally wait for their husbands in my shop. The wife cheaters would see me as a threat to their marriages."

  He felt relieved. The pressure was off him. "The customers often include naval officers, and agents of the government, and most assuredly more than one political spy. You are so... umm ... comely that the professional spies would assume you were also a political spy. You could bring danger onto yourself."

  "You mean that some of the escorts are spies? Wait. Does your committee use them as spies?"

  John chose his words carefully. "If an escort should approach us with useful information, we will pay her for it."

  "Now I am confused. Do some of the escorts spy for you for money? I thought your spies were common folk innocently reporting anything unusual that they see. Just locals who ar
e watching out on your behalf."

  "Escorts ... ah ... do things for money. It is natural that they would also sell information for money. You know, learn from one customer, and sell to the next. They do not need to take sides. It is better for their own earnings if they do not."

  Britta leaned back against the counter and caught her thoughts and then had to catch her breath. "Do any of my customers assume that I am a spy? I mean, I know John Brown personally, and I loudly protest your correspondence with him. Does that make the committee suspect that I am actually one of Brown's spies?"

  "It has been mentioned. It is a risk we are willing to take, for now. If Brown ever becomes an enemy rather than a possible ally, then we will find a different place to meet."

  She was going to protest the thought of her spying for Brown, but changed her mind. "But I would lose half my earnings. And through no fault of my own."

  "Britta, we would have no choice. Jemmy, for instance, is no longer one of our inner group. Do you think he resigned due to his illness? His illness meant just that he could no longer be our spokesman. He resigned from the committee because we could no longer accept the risk that his wife, Ruth, may be a spy for the governor. She has always hated his politics."

  His words left Britta speechless, for if Ruth was a spy then that was yet another reason why her relationship with her future mother-in-law was so difficult.

  * * * * *

  The cafe was so quiet all week that Britta became quite worried about finances. She and Jon had a bit of money set aside, but that would not last long if business did not pick up again.

  Next Sunday, as soon as she reached the church, she searched out Mercy and whispered into her ear, "Please take me close to any large group of chattering wives. When there is a break in the chatter, please ask me how my Coffee Shop business is doing in a voice loud enough for the wives to hear."