Gardens in the Dunes (14 page)

Indigo crept back up the steps, past the garden of red flowers and the white flower garden to the stone path that turned back to the barn and outbuildings behind the house. She listened for footsteps and voices but heard only the cicadas and a cactus wren; she darted around the corner of the barn to the strange glass house she noticed the afternoon before. The whitewash on the glass weathered off to reveal glimpses of green foliage and cascading spikes of white wisteria that grew up and out the roof vent. How wonderful the scent was! She closed her eyes and inhaled again and again; then she heard a sound—tap-tap-tap-tap, silence, then four more taps. She froze in her tracks; the hair on the back of her neck stood up; she turned quickly to locate the source of the sound. Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap! There it was again; someone was tapping on the inside of the glass house. She glanced over her shoulder as she retreated down the stone path to the gardens and caught a glimpse of the shining eyes and face of the little hairy monkey man who found her the previous morning. The monkey motioned for her to come to him.

♦   ♦   ♦

An early hurricane season in the Caribbean Sea had forced them to cut short their expedition. One after the other, the tropical storms lashed the Bahamas and the Keys. They attempted to wait out the first storm in St. Augustine, but a great gust of wind and ocean surge flung the small boat
containing all their supplies against the crushed pier. Fortunately, all of Edward's equipment and the precious collections he managed to make were in the hotel room with him. Before the second storm arrived, Edward tried to send a telegram to Mr. Talbot at the Bureau of Plant Industry to ask for authorization to extend the effective dates of their expedition and for funds to replace the lost and damaged supplies, but the high winds from the approaching storm knocked out telegraph communications as far north as Atlanta. Weeks later the downed lines were still not repaired, which was the reason his telegram to Hattie had arrived only hours before Edward. He was dubious when he asked the captain of a freighter bound for Galveston to send the telegram for him.

“The last thing I wanted was to upset you,” Edward said as he held Hattie's chair for her at the table. But there was good news as well: when their ship finally reached New Orleans, Edward found a telegram from Mr. Albert at Lowe & Company. Edward's face flushed when he spoke of Lowe & Company. Though he had told her only a few details of the unfortunate expedition to Brazil, she recalled Lowe & Company was involved in a misunderstanding that occurred over certain rare orchids Edward was sent to collect for a group of private investors.

The cook had prepared lamb chops in mint jelly, green beans, and raisin-stuffed potatoes, special favorites of Edward's, and there was mincemeat pie for dessert. Hattie did not care for the heavy flavor of lamb, and the odor of mincemeat pie had repelled her since the one bite of mince pie she took when she was eleven. She was too excited and happy to feel hungry so she daintily picked the raisins out of the potato and pushed the green beans across the plate with her fork while Edward related the new development: Lowe & Company had advanced him $5,000 for an expedition to Corsica. Now Hattie would have an opportunity to visit her aunt in England and they would see Italy as well. In little more than six weeks, they would depart for New York by train to visit their families on Long Island for a few weeks before they departed.

“But I've barely just arrived here,” Hattie said, surprised at the news. “I haven't even unpacked our wedding gifts yet.” Edward smiled.

“Never mind that!” he said, taking both her hands in his. “You will have years and years to settle yourself here.”

He looked so distinguished and stalwart—the military posture from his prep school years in the east. As Hattie listened, she studied the face and the mouth, the intent expression in the eyes, and felt her heart beat faster
because this was her beloved, still so new to her; it was still startling to see and realize here was her husband! Did she look as unfamiliar to him as well?

♦   ♦   ♦

The voyage from the Keys across the lower Gulf had taken a week longer than scheduled as the ship was forced to take refuge in protected coves to escape the high seas and winds that scoured the Keys and the coast. When they departed Veracruz the skies were blue and the wind calm, but as they began to cross the Bay of Campeche, the wind speed intensified. The ship's captain steered for Tampico to escape the storm. With the expedition cut short, Edward was pleased for the opportunity to have a look around the public market in Tampico. He had made it his practice to collect samples of local and regional agriculture. The natives might possess unknown medicinal plants with commercial potential or a new variety of citrus or a new source for rubber. He was also eager to purchase archaeological artifacts and curiosities. Weather permitting, he would hire the cabin boy to assist him with his camera so the more interesting subjects could be photographed.

There were only light winds in Tampico; the topaz blue sky was scattered with cirrus clouds in a strong breeze that brought refreshment to the sweltering dockside streets with their stench of dead fish and sewage. Evidence of the civil unrest and the hurricane season were apparent: iron shutters were closed across shops; soldiers loitered in pairs on street corners smoking cigarettes, carbines slung over their backs. The streets were deserted though no one could name the cause. Rumors abounded: an outbreak of yellow fever, or an epidemic of rabid cats. There were always rumors of impending crisis in Tampico.

Earlier the first mate mentioned a recent uprising by half-castes and Indians who claimed to be guided by the Indian Virgin of Guadalupe against the state tax collectors. The early storm season and the dispute left a great many empty spaces and vacant stands; still, Edward was able to find a variety of muskmelon he had not seen before. Its shape reminded him of a human skull; its succulent sweet flesh was bright red. The melons were heaped in great piles on the old flagstones next to clay incense burners shaped like water lilies, filled with lumps of cloudy copal to fuel them. He purchased bunches of mysterious dried flowers beneficial to weak hearts and bald heads; he found strange roots the shape of a baby's fingers, said to aid in digestion. He methodically peered into the stalls and shops that were closed lest he miss some unusual item. He noticed one stall that was actually the front of a tiny house at the entrance of the narrow alley behind
the cathedral. He hesitated and nearly turned back because the stall was closed behind an iron gate; but then between the iron bars piled on the ground he saw chunks of lustrous black meteor iron for sale. He was always interested in acquiring meteor irons or other celestial curiosities. He knocked, but no one stirred inside; he would return later.

The massive stone towers of the old cathedral caught his eye; they were built with the stones of the Maya temple that once stood on the site. Edward felt he must photograph the cathedral and the market for his report; he returned to the ship for his camera and tripod and hired the cabin boy to assist him. While the cabin boy steadied the tripod legs, Edward adjusted the camera lens and arranged the black viewing cloth over his head. At this, the market fell strangely silent; Indian and mestizo women of the market hid their faces behind the corners of their shawls as they had when they told the price of a root or seeds.

They moved the camera methodically from stall to stall to photograph the goods for sale. Edward gave the cabin boy centavos to hand out and the odd silence shifted into a low murmur as the Indian women gathered to compare coins, faces still hidden by their shawls.

By midafternoon the local varieties of maize and beans and other market produce had been well documented with photographs, and the specimen bag was full. Edward had just begun to remove the lens board from the camera when he noticed activity outside the stall with the chunks of meteorite ore. A large figure wrapped in a bright red shawl disappeared inside the iron bar gate. Edward hurriedly repacked the camera and sent the cabin boy ahead to the steamer with the equipment while he went to inquire about the purchase of the meteor irons. Recently there had been a great deal of excitement among archaeologists after a meteorite shaped into a frog was found atop the big pyramid at the Maya ruins of Cholula.

He knocked politely but the figure in the red shawl was nowhere to be seen. He became concerned about the lateness and the departure of the steamer, so he knocked a bit harder. The corrugated steel sides of the stall shook. Suddenly a huge blue face appeared in the window and Edward could not help but jump back. The old woman's long tangled hair and her ample chest and arms all had been painted a bright blue that emphasized the woman's Maya features: sharp high cheekbones and aquiline nose. Her glittering black eyes fastened on his, and he felt beads of sweat form above his lip and across his forehead. He pointed at the meteor irons on the ground by her feet.

“How much for these?”

The woman stared at him until he had to look away. He saw the black skin of her legs and realized the woman was African as well as Maya.

“Oh, it's you,” she said. “Go away, I'm closed.” The tone of contempt in her voice astonished Edward.

“I'll buy all the meteor irons you have,” he said as he reached into his specimen satchel for his purse. She leaned her blue face and breasts closer; he felt the heat of her breath and instantly a terrible dread swept over him as if he was in imminent danger.

“Go away! You cannot buy them but you will pay!”

Had she misunderstood him? He held out a handful of silver coins to show her he wanted to buy the irons. She hissed out the words again—go away! The sweat on his forehead felt cold and the hairs on his neck stood up. He got a sudden impression the blue-face woman knew him and she had hated him for a long time.

How silly, he thought later when he was safely in his cabin. He was pleased with the handsome melon specimen and the photographs; the visit to the Tampico market had been a success. He put the unpleasant incident with the Maya Negress out of his thoughts; there would be other opportunities to acquire meteor irons. The encounter only whetted his appetite.

At high tide the steamer departed, but they were under way only a few hours when the wind began to increase and the ship's barometer began to fall. The whitecaps began to slap the sides of the ship and the captain attempted to outrun the storm by heading due north. The ship rolled and plunged as she circled, waiting for the storm to move. In more than thirty years on the Caribbean, the captain had not seen as many storms as there were this season, and all of the winds followed the same path out of the Bay of Campeche.

The wind howled and drove the rain relentlessly against the ship; on the third day the storm gave no sign of abating, and the sailors began to recount old stories about hurricanes that raged for weeks. Edward remained calm. A few years before, he had weathered a far worse storm on the return trip from the Pará expedition.

That time a sudden storm sprung up off the coast of Venezuela; he was convalescing from his injury, immobilized in his cabin alone. Wind-driven waves nearly swamped the ship; the terrified sailors cast overboard much of the ship's cargo to buy the wind's mercy, and all but two crates of the rare orchid specimens were lost.

The sailors believed the storm was the work of the Black Indian of Tampico, who kept two sets of altar saints, one for the day, one for the
night. The ship's barometer fell so far that they thought it was broken. Who or what had angered the Black Indian? Edward listened to the men and wondered if she was the same woman who refused to sell him the meteorites. They said she was a daughter of the African spirits and the Maya spirits as well. The sailors heard spirits in the high-pitched whine of the wind.

The Black Indian and her black dogs combed the beaches after big storms to collect the gold and other valuables from shipwrecks. Edward listened to the sailors' comments with amusement. The seamen worked themselves into self-righteous anger: What fool had angered the Black Indian, prompting her to burn black dog hair and rum in a white bowl to call up the winds? No solution but to throw gold coins and valuables overboard. That's what she wanted; gold floated to the shore for her.

Later, when they were alone, Edward asked the ship's captain where in Tampico this Black Indian might be found. The captain had already finished the first bottle of wine and opened another. Her ugly mug was unmistakable—painted bright blue. Edward felt a chill run down his neck. He said nothing about his encounter with her lest they accuse him of bringing down the storm. He excused himself and returned to his cabin. To think that he had inhaled her hot breath reeking of rum!

The rain and wind were relentless, never increasing but never decreasing in velocity; like the other tropical storms this season, it seemed to stall in Campeche Bay. The vessel was in a protected anchorage but they were unable to move. The first mate poured holy water as the ship's captain threw handfuls of gold beads overboard; for good measure, the sailors dumped two palletloads of bananas. The wind seemed to slacken somewhat.

Edward took no chances this time; he kept his trunks and chests full of specimens safely locked in his cabin. The relentless howling of the wind brought on a deafness in his right ear, an affliction Edward first suffered in childhood after swimming in the ocean with his father.

The next morning the sky was blue and the ocean calm as if there had never been a storm. Edward took the opportunity to collect specimens of kelp and seaweeds churned up by the storm before the steamship got under way. As he filled the bottles with salt water and strands of seaweed, he felt a bit more confident the expedition was not entirely wasted; he could not afford to return empty-handed.

Perhaps it was the strain of this worry that triggered the headache that descended on him as he hefted a bucket of kelp and ocean water onto the deck. With the sudden sharp pain over his left eye came a blinding streak
of light. He was scarcely able to stopper and label the collection jars before he began to perspire and feel nauseous from the pain over his eye. The headache lasted for two days. The ship's captain sent the steward to administer belladonna, and at one point, the pain was so excruciating Edward begged the steward to put him out of his misery with an overdose. Now as he described the incident to Hattie, he laughed, but Hattie noted the hesitation in his voice. In the fury of the headache he became so disoriented, he believed he was back on the Pará River.