The Old Cape Teapot (8 page)

Nick came from behind me as I sat outside. “Have a safe flight
home, Mrs. C.” He walked past me on his way into the office. I waved and wished Brian would hurry up. It was getting late and I was exhausted. My flight was at six in the morning and four AM would
arrive before I knew it.

Present Day

ANTIGUA

THE COPY
of the old map was slid into my journal. Although I was sad to leave Brian behind on the island, I was anxious to get home to Cape Cod. I felt sure I was embarking on a new adventure with this map, and the Cape was where I hoped to find the answers to the many questions filling my head. Besides, John is such a nice guy, if I actually found anything it would be nice to help him and his family.

My small writing book was zipped into the outside pouch of my backpack, which already puffed out like a fat man’s belly from all my extra clothes. It looked even more cumbersome with the addition of the large grocery bag that held the six conch shells tied to the shoulder strap.

“Almost ready?” Brian asked, as he made sure everything was turned off in the little house.

“Yes, I think I am.”

“We should get going; flights are erratic around here.” He
picked up my suitcase and headed down the steep stairway of the house.

“Okay, I don’t want to miss my connection.”

As the Jeep rumbled along the bumpy roads in the early dawn, I
enjoyed the beauty of the island paradise one last time. If I looked beyond the poverty and discounted the fact that someone had broken into Brian’s house, it really was a remarkable place.

“Your visit has been awesome,” Brian said.

“It’s been quite interesting.” I could see the small airport’s tower on the horizon.

Brian glanced over to me. “I was thinking this morning that it
seems like fate connected you with a relative of John Julian.”

“I guess there’s more for me to find.”

Clouds began to move in and the air grew cooler. “Will Nick be
coming back to your place tonight? I feel uncomfortable with you
alone in that house.”

“You worry too much. Hey, I hope you don’t mind, but Nick wanted a copy of the map for his pirate collection, so I made him
one.”

“You know, he seems a little too interested…all those
questions.”

Brian laughed my concern off. “He’s okay.”

“I guess so, just be careful.” I checked one more time to make
sure the copy of the map was safe in my journal.

Brian pulled up to the airport’s sliding glass doors. “You know, finding that old map convinced me about your theory.” He gave me
a big smile then stopped the Jeep and got out to get my bags. He
stared at me for a second then shook his head. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Me neither.” I couldn’t wait to get back to the Cape to investigate further.

He opened the door for me. “I’ve a meeting in around thirty minutes. Are you all right if I leave you here?”

“You know me better than that; I’ll be fine. You should get going.”

He gave me another hug. “I love you. I’ll be home by
Thanksgiving, if all goes well with the new orphanage.”

I held him for a few seconds longer and then let go. “I’m so
proud of you and what you’ve done. I love you.”

He pointed at me from behind the wheel and said, “You be
careful.” Then smiled, “Watch out for pirates on the Cape.”

I called after him as he drove away, “Be safe. God be with you
and watch your back.”

When the airport doors closed behind me I couldn’t wait to call Paul. As soon as I checked in, the plane was ready to board for my first flight of the day to Puerto Rico. My cell phone showed only two bars for reception. I quickly tried to connect. “Paul?”

“Hi honey. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“I should be home soon, if there are no problems.” I patted the
backpack’s pouch that protected my journal and the map. “You
won’t believe what I found.”

“Nancy? You’re breaking up. I can’t hear you.”

“Oh okay, I love you. See you tonight.”

“Bye.” Paul’s voice trailed off into static as my cell phone decreased to no bars. Hopefully, in Miami, I’ll have a better
connection; if not, I’ll try again in Boston.

Once I was settled into my seat on the first flight, I laughed, remembering how the plastic bag containing the conch shells proved
to be no problem going through security. It was the walking down
the narrow aisle of the plane that was difficult. Trying to hold the
lumpy backpack ahead of me with one hand and the shells behind me with
the other was daunting. The shells made clanking sounds as they hit against each other or bumped people in their seats. I’d smiled as
sweetly
as I could and repeated, “Sorry…oh, I’m sorry.” In fact, as I weaved and bobbed down the aisle carrying my treasures, I thought I
recognized
one of the guys from back at the ocean bar, towards the rear of the plane. At least, he looked like he was one of them. As I passed him I accidentally gave him a good hit on the shoulder. He’d returned a
half-hearted smile, so I wasn’t worried that I’d really hurt him. I tried to be more careful on the next flight, knowing the kids would find the big conchs really cool.

It was almost six o’clock by the time I reached Boston. As the
plane approached for landing, I could see the fall colors of the leaves. The
air looked cool and crisp; a change from sandals to sneakers might be in order for the bus ride from Boston to Hyannis, where I
expected Paul
to be waiting for me. Once I land it should be less than three hours
before I’m finally in my own bed …and I won’t need any netting.

***

1722

ANTIGUA

The sparse courtyard of Smith’s stately house was void of life except for palm trees that lined the inside of the outer walls. A tall and well-built dark skinned man strode towards Davis.

“Mr. Davis, sir?” asked the young man.

“Yes.”

A strong-looking hand picked up Davis’s travel bag, “If you
would please come with me, I’ll direct you to your room.”

“Why thank you, boy. I’m mighty obliged.” Davis rose and followed.

The manservant led the Smiths’ guest down a long painted hallway lined with rooms on each side. He opened the last door and placed the guest’s leather bag onto the wooden-planked floor next to a small storage chest at the foot of a canopied bed. After opening the veranda’s door, he politely said, “If you need anything, please do not hesitate to summon me. My name is Tobey.”

“Of course.” Davis quickly turned and called after the servant, “BOY! Tell the overseer that I want to speak with him as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Tobey obediently answered, swallowing his true feelings. He hated being called ‘boy’. His name was Tobey. Someday
he’d be able to correct rude people. He closed the door on Davis and rubbed his shirt, which hid a bumpy scar across his chest. It always ached when he found himself upset. A show of disrespect seemed to bother him the most.

Caroline passed him in the corridor. Tobey greeted the Smiths’ new acquisition with a smile. Each year, the Smith family would buy
three slaves from the neighboring Codrington Plantation on the Island of Barbuda. It was a stronghold of land and houses that had been bequeathed by Christopher Codrington upon his death to the
Church of England in 1710. Now it was a place where slaves were held and
‘seasoned’. The captured slaves became property of the Society of the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (or the SPG) and branded with the word ‘Society’ across their chests. It was common knowledge that slaves in their first three years of captivity were fed
well and given
light labor. If they survived and did not commit suicide, they were destined for hard labor on other sugar plantations owned by the
church.

Tobey touched the scar on his chest. He was restless. His life of servitude was becoming unbearable. He acknowledged that the Smiths had always been good to him but he wanted more; he
wanted his freedom. As he searched for the overseer, John Julian, on the main floor, he held back the resentment for his state in life and followed through with his orders from Davis. When Tobey reached the second floor of the house, he saw John Julian close the door on young Isaac Smith, who was resting on the cool sheets of his bed.

“Excuse me, sir. Mr. Davis requests a meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”

Julian whispered, “Thank you, Tobey. You may leave now.”

“Yes, sir.” Tobey lowered his head and turned to walk away. His face furrowed into a frown; he was worried about his future. He
knew that Isaac Smith was here to sell the family plantation.

It was one of Tobey’s duties to open and close doors and windows throughout the mansion to monitor its temperature. After
dinner was over and the night air began to cool the many rooms of the big house
on the hill, Tobey heard loud voices coming from Davis’s room. He slipped into the vacant adjoining room and opened the veranda
doors a crack to listen as two men argued. He heard Julian’s voice yell, “I tell you Davis, it’s there. You MUST do as I ask!”

Then Davis acquiesced. “I suppose I could help you, but how
will I find it?”

“I’ve drawn a map.”

Tobey stepped further out onto the veranda.

There was a slight hesitation in Davis’s voice. “I don’t know if I can do this for you. I have a wife now, and I’m well known in the community, I’m not sure….”

Scuffling broke the still of the night.

In a small window on the multi-paned door of Davis’s room, Tobey could see Julian’s reflection as he curled his hands around
Davis’s neck. There was a gasp then a gurgling noise.

“Remember, my friend,” Julian said as he squeezed tighter, “I’m the only one who knows of your secret.”

“You wouldn’t, you swore to me,” Davis pleaded.

Julian continued to threaten. “I won’t hesitate to inform the authorities on Cape Cod about your part in the untimely death of
Sam Bellamy…and whoever else happened to be in the house on the night of the fire.”

Tobey pressed his back against the side curtain of the door.
Curious
for more information, he leaned forward again, beyond the dark room, for a better view and saw Julian push Davis up against the outside wall. With clenched teeth, Julian demanded, “Do you
understand me?”

At that, Tobey retreated and quietly left. He wondered if he
could benefit from this encounter between the two men. Closing the door behind him, he stood in the hallway. What was Davis’s quest? After
a quick knock on Davis’s door, he entered and found the two men still
struggling. They separated immediately and straightened their waistcoats. “Excuse me, sir,” Tobey said, holding onto the latch of
the door. “I need to ready your room for the night.”

Julian glared at the servant. Davis looked relieved.

“If you don’t mind, sir?” Tobey moved closer to them and began to turn down the bedcovers.

Julian headed for the door. As he passed the young black man,
he ordered, “Tobey! Come to my house after you’re finished here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Later, as Tobey followed the road down to Julian’s house, he questioned the coming meeting between him and the overseer. He
was prepared to defend himself if there was any confrontation other than the usual reprimand for the unexpected entrance to Davis’s room. He hoped there would be none.

Meanwhile, Julian encouraged his wife, Elizabeth, to retire early.
He explained to her that he had business to take care of and needed his
privacy. Julian took a position outside on a bench and leaned back
against the side of his house. The moonrise lit the dark night. He
could see Tobey’s approach.

“Mr. Julian, Sir?”

“Sit down, Tobey.” He took out his pipe and waited for the slave to sit next to him. “How long have you been under the Smith family?”

“Eight years…since I was ten.”

“You have learned your studies well and seem to have grown into a smart young man.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I have a proposition for you.” Julian glanced up at the moon
and
let out a long stream of smoke from between his lips. “Are you
interested in improving your state of life?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean freedom. A new start.”

Tobey remained quiet, holding onto the word freedom in his head.

“Well?” Julian persisted.

“I don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”

Julian gave Tobey a knowing glance. “You were in the next room listening to my conversation…or you might say, persuasion, with Mr. Davis. Am I not right?”

“I meant no disrespect, sir.” Tobey’s posture was stiff next to Julian. He wanted to show he wasn’t afraid of the man who controlled him.

“You show gumption. That I like.”

Several seconds of silence passed before Julian spoke again.

“Mr. Davis and I knew each other a long time ago. Let’s say we were partners.”

Tobey stared straight ahead into the dusky night; his hands resting on top of his knees.

“I want you to sail to the Cape with Mr. Davis. You’ll be under
his
care and will assist him in finding items that belong to me,
whereupon you’ll return with the found goods back to Antigua.” Julian hesitated and then added, “I’m only interested in the safety of my property.”

“How will this happen?”

“You’ll carry papers that will identify you as a servant of the Smith Plantation, and it will explain that you’re retrieving their
possessions.
When said items are delivered into my hands, I’ll have the power to release you from bondage and reward you with enough
coin
to start anew.”