The Old Cape Teapot (2 page)

April 28, 1717

CAPE COD

THOMAS DAVIS
took off to Samuel Harding’s house, eventually
convincing the old man to hide him and his salvaged treasure for payment in more gold. Within the hour, Davis returned to Maria Hallett’s shack, along with a wagon to load his share. As he left, he
saluted his shipmate, John Julian. “Better days ahead, mate.” His last look was to Maria, who was caring for Sam Bellamy as he lay unconscious beside her. “May good fortune attend you and the
captain, ma’am.”

Maria said nothing as she turned her attention back to Sam.

By the time the sky darkened into black night, Julian had
secured his riches to a short pole stretcher, covered it with a blanket and tied
a shovel across the top. It was a struggle to pull the heavy chest across the rough terrain but he was determined. When the sky
turned to early dawn, he’d finished burying his cache beneath the largest rock in Eastham. Wasting no time, he piled stones and rocks on top of the freshly dug dirt to hide what was buried. Julian smashed the rustic stretcher and heaved the shovel as far away as he could to further elude anyone from his nocturnal secret. He took only a small pouch
of gold coins with him. Now he needed to hide through the daylight hours and run through the night to safety. Then it was on to
Antigua.

***

1722

THE ATLANTIC OCEAN

Thomas Davis never dreamed that he would be sailing again to Antigua, in the West Indies, especially after his ordeal with the
pirate Captain Sam Bellamy. Davis had sailed with the captain five years
ago, but not of his own choice, and the courts of Boston had agreed
that he was innocent of piracy. Today, he was sailing as a gentleman traveler from his home in Yarmouth on Cape Cod. He stood tall, not wanting to get his fine clothes dirty from the rough wooden rail under his hands.

Isaac Smith, at 18 years and on his maiden voyage, stood to
Davis’s right, pale-faced and leaning on the railing of the ship. Davis would give the young man not more than a few hours before the motion of the sea would make Isaac lose the contents of his stomach. Sadly, he
proved to be correct. As if on cue, the sound of someone hurling
vomit
broke the stillness of the cool evening air as the young man leaned over the rail. Davis thought it humorous as he retired below for his dinner.

Later, within the same hour, Davis enjoyed one last smoke in the night air up on deck and noticed his ailing fellow passenger was still
against the rail. He approached him. “Just let it all come out, son.” He patted Isaac on the back. “You won’t die, and in a few days, you’ll be just fine.” He filled his clay pipe and took a sniff from a
gold inlaid snuffbox.

Spittle dangled from Isaac’s lips as he glanced over to Davis. “Thank you, sir. Your words are reassuring but not plausible based on the way my insides feel.”

Thomas Davis chuckled to himself. He looked up to the stars and rested his hand on a letter in his breast pocket that he had
received a few weeks prior to his departure from Cape Cod. He remembered its words well.

Dear Thomas,

The time has come for us to talk. I seek your assistance in
matters
of our past together. I have information that would be of
benefit
both to you and I. Your presence is needed to reap great
rewards.

J.J. Island of Antigua

Davis knew the initials stood for John Julian, the navigator and
pilot on the pirate ship
Whydah
. He and Julian were shipmates together when the
Whydah
went down in a nor’easter, just off the coast of Cape Cod, on April 27, 1717. Davis shook his head, still in disbelief of how lucky he was that night. The other pirates had
perished in the sea or were captured upon making it to shore. He pinched another snuff. He, Julian, and Captain Bellamy had eluded the soldiers that night by hiding in the shack of the young girl, Maria Hallett. In the early morning hours, the three had managed to salvage treasure from the wreck, then separated to hide their share of the booty until it was safe to return for it. Davis had almost lost hope when he and Julian
were quickly spotted and captured, becoming prisoners of the King, then sent to Boston for trial with seven other pirate survivors. He had been found innocent, along with Julian, by reason of coercion;
the rest
were hung. They never saw Sam Bellamy again. Davis sneered with satisfaction and stroked the diamond encrusted gold ring on the
smallest of his fingers.

Present Day

ANTIGUA

THE GLASS PANELS
of the airport exit slid sideways, and I
stepped
out onto the island of Antigua. A sweltering 90-degree heat hit my body, as if I had just opened a hot oven. I saw Brian driving a dark brown, open Jeep looking for an empty space in the small airport’s lot. Waving, I watched him finally find a space and park. As he walked closer to me, I noticed his peculiar attire. His shorts seemed
odd paired with a black button down dress shirt, black socks and black tennis shoes. A funky Khaki jungle hat was tied under his chin, making him look like he was on a safari expedition. But it didn’t matter what he wore, I was just happy to see my son.

I gave him a big hug. “Hi, honey. It’s good to see you.”

He grabbed my paisley suitcase from the curb and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “How was your flight?”

“Okay. It’s great to be on land again, even if it is a little hot for me. How’ve you been?”

“Fine, Mom. It’s been good.”

As he carried my bags I followed him, hoping to talk more, but he was my quiet one…a man of few words.

When we pulled away from the airport, my hair took off with a mind of its own, flying and swirling around my head. It felt good across my face. As the road continued, bumpy and curvy, I grew
edgy about
the rough ride and kept turning to the back seat to make sure the bags hadn’t fallen out. Holding the side of the doorframe with one hand, my billowing skirt with the other, I felt like I was on an amusement park ride. The noise of the open Jeep made it difficult to
talk, but I managed
to get in a few simple questions: How far is your house? Do you have any meetings today? What’s with all the black clothes?

Brian grinned at my teasing. “I try to stay away from white
clothes; the water here turns everything yellow.”

I returned a smile as he sped up around a bend and onto a two-lane highway. “Have I told you that I love you and am very proud of
your
work here?” I noticed another smile grow across his face. “Your
brothers and sisters all say hello.”

He quickly turned to me. “Thanks, Mom. I love you too.”

Almost completing his second year in the Peace Corps, Brian knew his way around this little island in the West Indies. From his
recent
phone calls, I also knew that his work was finally becoming
satisfying. Most people never see the tremendous poverty that exists behind all the posh resorts. Brian was right in the middle of it.

We passed several fancy hotels on the highway and then turned off and onto the back roads again. A group of houses came into view along a dirt road that led to the water.

“Here it is,” Brian announced. He drove down to the end to
show me the ocean and its white sandy beach.

“I can hardly wait to explore the beach,” I whispered in awe, admiring the cool colors of the sky and water.

“Yeah, we should go for a walk tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said as we turned around and drove
back
up the small incline to the houses that were all clumped together.
Brian’s was the first near the road.

“What do you think?” he asked as we stopped uphill on a grassy area under three tall palm trees.

“It’s nice and shady.” It was all I could think of after noticing the laundry hanging on the veranda, broken screens, empty beer bottles in a pail, and bikes leaning against the stairway.

As I climbed the steep stairs to the front door I asked, “Where’s your new roommate…is he around?”

Brian opened the door and carried my bag inside along with some milk and other groceries. “Nick had a meeting with the
teachers in his school. He’s joining us in town for dinner at Mrs. Jones’s house.”

I stepped into the cramped rental. “That’s nice of her, although I just don’t know how much I’ll eat tonight. I’m a little queasy from all the travel…just tired maybe.”

Brian turned on a fan in the dark paneled living room. “We
won’t stay out late. I’ve been up since six this morning.”

The first thing I did was find the bathroom, which was adequate, if you discounted the rust stained tub-combo-shower. Its walls and
corners were dotted with mold and a few token pieces of hair
decorated
the rest of the faded linoleum floor. It was obvious that two guys
lived
in the old house; the toilet seat was up, but it was clean. I
appreciated that Brian had made a real effort to make the house nice for me.

The bedroom was down the hall on the left. My bed was
opposite
Brian’s. The room was stuffy and hot. I wanted to unpack but left
everything in the suitcase because there was no place to put my
things. Undaunted, I changed into fresh clothes.

Thirsty, I looked for a drink of water in the kitchen. Closed
plastic containers of food floated in the double sinks. I assumed it was for preventing ants from getting into the sweet staples. Poking my finger into the off–colored water I asked, “Does this really work?”

“Yeah, the old guy who lives next door told us about it. Ready to go?”

“Yup.” I replied, grabbing a fresh bottle of water from my
suitcase; the tap water didn’t seem very inviting.

***

Mrs. Jones, a native of Antigua, worked in the Peace Corps office and fed the volunteers once a week, becoming the designated mom for most of them. As I entered her small, stucco-walled, pink-colored
home, she
greeted me with a lilting Caribbean voice, “Welcome! It’s so good to
meet Brian’s mom! What a nice boy he is. And so polite.” I felt proud to hear her words. She disappeared into the tiny kitchen before I
could reply.

Brian left my side for a moment to talk to a few of the Peace
Corps
people in the sitting room then returned with Nick for an
introduction.

“Mrs. C, it’s great to meet you,” Nick said. The next statement
out of his mouth went right to the point. “Is it true you discovered old pirate treasure?”

He caught me off guard but I enjoyed his frankness. “Yes, it is. I assume Brian told you all about it?”

“No, not all the details; I’ve only been here a few days.” He
pushed
his horn-rimmed glasses up onto his nose then leaned closer to me.
“Of course, when he said you found it on your property, I didn’t
believe him, then he showed me pictures of you on the internet and some of the jewelry that was found in the chest.”

Mrs. Jones interrupted his questions with a shout out, “Time to eat, my friends.”

A large table held a smorgasbord of native food. The red, yellow, and orange dishes were all colorfully laid out on top of a piece of material under clear plastic that depicted birds of paradise flying
through a
jungle. I assessed the chicken, beans, rice, and pasta in front of me. Positive that they were seasoned with hot spices, and not being fond of spicy food, I took only small samples of everything, just to make sure I wouldn’t be eating anything that I didn’t like. My plate was
half empty.

“Not very hungry?” the hostess asked as she watched me pick at the food.

I tried to be gracious. “No, not really.” I was hungry, but held
back on saying anything else for fear I would be obligated to eat
more. As I nibbled, I discovered I was right in assuming the food was peppery.
I quickly reached for a cool drink of soda to calm the heat in my
mouth.
With my plate in hand, I then sought refuge from the stuffy house
outside on the breezy veranda.

The temperature had dropped to a pleasant 74-degrees and
young
voices drifted through the tropical night air, along with sounds of a football game from the States blaring from a large screen TV. As I
settled
into a plastic lounge chair Nick came over and sat down next to me. He wore black pants with a beige polo shirt. His glasses were definitely too big for his face.

Nick continued with more questions. “How did you happen to find the treasure?”

I smiled, always eager to tell my once-in-a-lifetime story. “After we moved from Ohio to an old 1880 house on Cape Cod, I wanted to dig a garden behind the barn. By accident, I dug up a buried root cellar and at its bottom was evidence that pointed to a famous Cape Cod legend.”

“You mean Sam Bellamy and Maria Hallett?” Nick asked.

I nodded.

“Is that one of the pieces you found?” He pointed to my good
luck charm dangling from my neck.

“Yes, but not in the cellar. I found this later, in the woods.” I
held my locket in the glow of a streetlight that illuminated the front of the house so he could see it better.

Nick leaned closer to inspect the diamonds that surrounded the delicately engraved blue-green flowers on the tiny orb of ivory.