The Old Cape Teapot (7 page)

“Nice to meet everyone,” Angel said as she opened the screen door with Rolanda in her arms.

John followed close behind her with the boy in tow. He spoke to Angel, “Brian is the one that got me involved in the new orphanage being built in the heights area.”

She smiled back at us.

He waved for both of us to come inside. “Angel usually
substitutes at the high school, but not today, a lucky occurrence for your visit.”

The house was typical for the island in its layout; we entered into the living room, which was connected to a dining area and a
kitchen to
its side. A railing alongside some steps led to the upstairs. I
wondered about John’s six kids and where they all slept.

Another quick glance around the room revealed a small mahogany curio cabinet standing against the wall next to a long
couch. Within its
glassed confines were small figurines, miniature framed photos and decorative shells. On the middle shelf, a wooden jewelry box was highlighted. It had an oval white piece inlaid on its top.

“Angel, remember Junior talked of a necklace that looked like the family’s heirloom earrings?”

“Yes, I do,” she said as she poured some juice for the kids.

“Maybe you could take a look at it?” John asked.

I came closer to the dining table and held the necklace in my hands for her to get a better look.

“Oh, it’s beautiful. It does have the same colors and delicate findings,” Angel agreed. “John, would you grab the kids’
sandwiches out of the fridge while I get my key?”

“Certainly.”

She disappeared into a room off the dining area and appeared within seconds with a small silver key attached to a black ribbon. Everyone watched as Angel opened the cabinet door. She carried the smooth
wooden box to the clean end of the table. I could see that the white oval
on top of the box was a piece of ivory. The ancient technique of scrimshaw was used to artfully scribe black tinted lines of a sailing
ship
floating across ocean waves. As Angel lifted the lid the smell of
cedar drifted into the air. She reached for a white linen cloth from within and carefully unwrapped two earrings. I laid my necklace next to the delicate pieces.

Present Day

ANTIGUA

AS SOON AS
I saw the two earrings, they spoke to me of mystery and the unknown. “May I hold them?”

Angel moved in front of the two pieces of jewelry that lay on the table as if they needed extra protection. “Of course,” she said. She was so protective that I had to reach in front of her to pick them up.
“They’re so special to me and the whole family,” she cautioned. “I
feel obligated to make sure they’re safe.”

“I’ll be very careful with them.” My hands trembled as I picked
them up. They felt light as a feather as I moved them back and forth
from one hand to the other. They were so beautiful. My heart beat faster as I envisioned these delicate pieces in the hands of the pirate John Julian or an 18th century woman of means as she dressed for a special occasion.

When I placed them back next to the necklace, the design and
color of both pieces of jewelry clearly indicated a matched set. I sat down to gather my thoughts. Brian and John moved closer to get a
better look.
No amount of doubt, if anyone had any, would sway me from my theory that the pirate John Julian indeed had access to Bellamy’s treasure.

Angel glanced at her husband. “What do you think, John?”

The Antiguan said nothing. He stood quiet and focused his attention on his wife, as if he was unsure of us and what we were
going to do with the information we were uncovering.

In soft-spoken words, Angel said, “John, I think that Brian’s
Mom should meet Old Sugar.”

Old Sugar? My heart skipped a beat. Now we’re getting somewhere.

“If you think that’s a good idea.” John waited for Angel to respond.

“It’s fine with me.”

We said our goodbyes and waited in the Jeep for John to lead us to his grandmother’s house. “I still have enough time to finish packing for my flight tomorrow. I just can’t leave until I get more answers.”

Brian nodded in agreement.

We followed John around a large rotary and then turned down a densely packed street filled with houses, high fences, multiple cars, and trucks.

“I hope this little trip will be worth it,” Brian said, as he kept close behind the Antiguan’s car. “Once, when we were working at the orphanage, John said that his Old Sugar knew everything about their family history and could remember a lot of things…if she was having a good day.”

I looked at Brian. “So you knew about Old Sugar?”

“Sure, but I’ve never actually met her.”

We came upon a chain link fence surrounding a three-story cement-block house. It was built into a hill near the side of a gas station’s retaining wall. I tilted my head over the side of the jeep’s
door to get a better look. “That must be Old Sugar’s house. I hope today is a good day for her.”

We watched John enter through the gate. He motioned to us where to park on the street of closely aligned houses. We squeezed
in between
two small trucks. I checked out the neighborhood. “Are we safe here?”

“I think so. I’ll lock the glove compartment, but you’d better take your backpack in with you.”

Once we gained entrance into the fenced yard, we only had to walk up a few steps to Old Sugar’s doorway, which then took us
down into a
large basement room. The casement windows across the top of the walls were shaded and closed; the stale air added to the overall
murkiness of the home.

John called out, “Grandma Sugar!” as he closed the door behind
us. “Sorry about the condition of the place, but Grandma Sugar likes to keep the heat out the old fashioned way…by closing everything
up.”

A frail but clear voice came from another room. “Is that you, John?”

“Yeah, Grandma.”

Grandma Sugar appeared with her walker under the archway of the kitchen. She was wearing a colorful housecoat and pink slippers,
her grey hair perched atop her head in a bun. She stopped halfway into the living room to take a good look at her visitors. “Well, who are you?’

 John smiled and introduced everyone.

She shuffled towards us, her head down, watching her every
step. “I wish I knew you were bringing some company; I might have baked something.” Old Sugar made her way to a well-worn rocker that was strategically placed in front of the television and beside a TV
tray filled with tissues, a TV Guide, and several soap opera magazines. With a huff she took a seat. “Sit down, sit down. Tell me why you’re here.”

John took the earrings out of his pants pocket and unwrapped them
in front of her. “Do you remember these?”

“Oooh, aren’t they beautiful? I recall that I wore them on
occasion. Doesn’t Angel wear them now?”

“Yes she does, and they’re the reason we’ve come today.”

She took a tissue and wiped her nose. “Tell me more.”

I opened my cosmetic bag that held the necklace.

“Brian’s Mom has a necklace that seems to match these earrings.”

Old Sugar leaned in to get a closer look at my jewelry and then she stared at the earrings. “Why yes, I think you may be right. Now what does it have to do with me?”

“Do you remember anything about where the earrings originally
came from?” John replied. “What do you know of our earliest
relatives?”

She mulled over her grandson’s questions. “John, would you get me another glass of water?” she asked as she rubbed her chin. “And
while you’re up, go and get a box from under my bed. It’s in a plastic bag. It might be dusty.” She shook her head back and forth. “I just
can’t seem to get down there to clean.”

We sat in silence. It was too quiet for me, so I started with small
talk. “You have a very nice place here, Grandma Sugar. I understand that your daughter lives upstairs; how convenient for you.”

“Oh yes.” Her smile was broad and toothless. Contented, she rocked back and forth.

John returned with a dusty black plastic bag. He pulled a
shoebox from within and dropped the dirty bag to the floor.

Old Sugar tapped her bony finger on the TV tray. “Here, clean this table off and put it right here.” John did as he was told.

“Now open it, will you John?”

As he lifted the lid from the brown box, it made a swoosh as the bottom fell away to the tray.

We all craned our necks to get a better view of what was inside.

Old Sugar’s arthritic fingers lifted out a book from within the cardboard box. It looked like a Bible. The bumpy black leather that
encased its yellowed pages was devoid of any decoration. “This
here’s the family Bible,” she announced.

I carefully placed the necklace back into my purse and sat next to
Brian on a dark green polyester couch, directly opposite Sugar. John gathered the plastic bag into a ball and tossed into the kitchen’s trash
bin.

The old woman gestured to her grandson, “Come over here
John.” She carefully opened the Bible and pointed to its pages. “In here are
your ancestors’ names and dates.” Grandma Sugar turned the stiff, brittle paper to get to the front. He knelt by her side. “When I was little, I remember my mother writing in the names of my brothers
when they were born, and then my father’s date when he died.”

 John looked at the written words that made a list on the beginning pages of the small book. He reached in front of Old
Sugar’s hand and
pointed to the first name at the top of the page. “Old Sugar, is this
our first relative?”

“That it is.” She read slowly, “John Julian, Born 1692, Died 1740.”

John read the next entry, “Elizabeth Thompkins Julian, Born
1701, Died 1735.”

“May I see it?” I asked.

“Of course, help yourself,” Old Sugar said with a smile.

As the old Bible passed from her hand to mine, its pages fanned open and a folded square of heavy vellum fell to the floor next to my foot.

 “Oh, I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I hope I didn’t damage anything.”

Brian carefully picked it up and handed it to me.

“May I open it?” I asked, holding the folded vellum over the open Bible.

Old Sugar waved her hand at me. “Go right ahead, I ain’t never paid much attention to the scribbles on its inside. Never could
understand them.”

After closing the Bible, I attempted to separate the stiff sections of the folded square. After a few seconds, the vellum loosened and I
was
able to unfold it, exposing Old Sugar’s ‘scribbles’, as she called them.
“It looks like a drawing.”

Everyone took a turn examining it.

I could clearly see what lay scribed before me. “It’s a map of Cape Cod!”

 Brian quickly added, “You’re right, Mom; I can see the shape of the bent arm. See, there’s Brewster, even though the words say Harwich.
It’s definitely the Cape.” His finger moved close to the map’s surface
but drew back, cautious not to touch the vellum.

“Cape Cod?” John asked.

My eyes stared at the astonishing piece of evidence that had just
been uncovered. My head was swimming with excitement. It was the clue that I needed. I kept my eyes focused on the remarkable drawing. “This clinches my theory that John Julian, your ancestor, has more than just a slight connection to Sam Bellamy and Cape Cod.” I looked at John. “I think there’s more treasure to be found. This map may just lead us to it.”

John looked stunned. He sat down on a chair next to his grandma.

While I studied the map, I whispered as if I was having a conversation
with myself. It was an old habit of mine. “Why else would there be a
map in this Bible, if not to lead someone to something valuable?” I cocked my head to think deeper. “Bibles were safe places to put
important things. This book is the Julian family’s history.” I glanced up at John. “Am I right?”

John and Old Sugar nodded.

By now it was 1:30 in the afternoon and I knew John had to get back to his sandwich shack. He’d already missed lunch and I
assumed he didn’t want to lose any more business.

I went right to the point. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time. Would you allow us to take the map and make a copy of
it? We’ll return it to you as quickly as we can.”

John rubbed his forehead to find an answer. He finally said, “I would agree to that.”

“I promise I’ll be very careful with it.”

I placed the Bible on the TV tray next to Old Sugar and then asked one more favor. “John, do you think you could find a plastic
bag to carry the map in for safekeeping?”

“Let me see.” He looked pleased that I wanted to be careful with the old map.

Old Sugar spoke up, “Well, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I know my John will take care of everything. Won’t you, John?”

From the kitchen, he returned with a small plastic bag, “Yes, Grandma, I’ll return this evening and set everything back the way it was.”

Standing up, I reached for the plastic bag. “Don’t worry, Brian will drop the map off at your house as soon as possible.” I slowly folded the vellum and placed it inside.

“I sure hope you’re on to something.” He looked at me with
steady eyes. “Brian’s Mom?”

“Yes?”

“If you find anything…don’t forget us.”

”I won’t… I promise.”

Brian couldn’t drive fast enough for me as we headed to the
Peace Corps office to find a copy machine. I knew flattening the relic was not the best idea as it was very brittle, but I needed a good copy and my phone wasn’t the greatest for pictures. I stayed in the Jeep while Brian copied it for me.