Windswept (3 page)

“Thurston! Thurston, what are you doing over there? Come quickly, please.”

Nora had been watching the two men, but her mother’s frantic cry drew her attention and thankfully had the effect of throwing cold water over the tension in the air.

Her father turned away from Jacob Proctor. “What is it, Sidonia? You can see that Nora is quite all right.”

“Yes, I know, thank heavens, but the boys, Thurston, the boys have run off. And in this strange place. They could be lost. My darlings could be lost.”

Jacob Proctor finally uncrossed his arms, but their impression left his linen shirt front stuck against his chest. Nora’s gaze was drawn to the dark areas under the white fabric. A matting of wet hair lessened in thickness as it trailed to the waistband of his trousers. It was an inappropriate thought, Nora knew, but she marveled that his chest hair could be darker than the hair on his head. That was definitely a question for Fanny.    “Mrs. Seabrook,” he said, “your dogs aren’t lost.” He cocked his thumb toward a tavern on the corner. “See for yourself.”

Two men approached. One of them carried Hubert, and the other Armand. The dogs were panting, and their fur was uncharacteristically mussed, but otherwise they appeared unharmed from their ordeal.

Sidonia rushed to them, her arms open to receive her boys. “Oh, my babies,” she cried.

Jacob introduced the men as they handed over their catch. “Mrs. Seabrook, this is Willy Turpin and Jimmy Teague.”

Sidonia barely managed a glance at the two men as she cuddled her boys to her chest. “Thank you,” she muttered absently.

Willy Turpin laughed out loud. “Those are some animals, ma’am,” he said. “You can’t hardly tell the rats from the rat catchers.”

Sidonia’s head shot up and she leveled a brilliant glare at the smiling Willy. “How dare you call these dogs ‘rat catchers!’ I’ll have you know these are pedigreed French poodles.”

Jimmy Teague rubbed his week's growth of stubble and chuckled through missing teeth. After poking Willy in the ribs to get his attention, he said, “Oh, I see. They’re really not much good for anything then.”

For once it was fortunate that Sidonia had her hands occupied with the boys. Otherwise she might have swung her reticule like a Medieval mace at both mens’ heads.

Further incident was avoided when a well-dressed gentleman joined the group and introduced himself to the Seabrooks. He was so remarkably thin that Nora feared a stiff breeze would take him skyward.

“Judge Seabrook, welcome to Key West. I came as soon as I heard the ship had docked. I’m Dillard Hyde, Clerk of the Court. I’ve arranged to have your things moved to your residence, and…” He paused long enough to peruse Nora’s unkempt appearance. “Perhaps I should take you there without delay.”

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” Thurston agreed and briefly introduced his party to the clerk.

“Where is a carriage, Mr. Hyde?” Sidonia asked.

“Oh, there are very few carriages on the island, madam. We’ve really no need of them. Everything is within walking distance.”

“Walking distance? You mean we must walk to our house?”

“It’s only a few blocks.”

She cast a forlorn look at the pile of trunks and boxes on the dock. “But our things?”

Dillard shielded his eyes and peered up and down the dock. He relaxed when he spotted a Negro boy leading a flop-eared donkey attached to a rickety cart. “Don’t worry yourself, Mrs. Seabrook. Felix will bring your belongings.”

“Come along, Sid,” Thurston said, taking her elbow. He turned back to Proctor before joining Dillard on the street that led through town. “Captain, notwithstanding my gratitude to you for rescuing Nora, I want you to know that in three days I will officially be holding court. You may spread the word to all your cohorts that at promptly nine a.m. on Thursday, I will expect to see all the wreckers’ licenses and credentials. That includes yours, sir.”

A smile that was both cocky and foolhardy split the captain’s face. “I’ll look forward to it, Judge.”

Fanny linked her arm in Nora’s as they passed Jacob Proctor. “I must give you credit,
cherie
,” she said. “That was an entrance that I, myself, would have been proud of.”

“Fanny, stop. It’s not as if I meant to fall in the water!”

“More’s the pity.”

As Nora walked through the center of Key West she sensed Jacob Proctor’s gaze on her back. It created a surge of heat inside her that seemed to hasten the drying of her salt encrusted garments. She squirmed against the stiff, clammy feel of salty fabric on skin. Surely the irritation of the chemical explained the strange tingling sensation that rippled through her.

In any other circumstance Nora would have felt self-conscious knowing she was being introduced to a new community looking very much like a drowned rat. This day, however, she scarcely gave a thought to her appearance. She was too engrossed in the sights and sounds and smells of the island and paid scant attention to gawkers on verandas who were forming their own impressions of Key West’s newest arrivals.

It was a five block walk from Front Street to Southard where the Seabrooks were to take residence. In that short distance they passed commercial establishments located nearest the wharf, then simple row cottages and finally one and two-story houses that seemed to have come from another country and time. Used to substantial Richmond residences of brick and wrought iron, Nora wondered at the lack of stone and mortar on Key West. Everything but the brick walkways was made of wood.

Some of the homes were easy to see while others were hidden behind vast tropical foliage, the names of which Nora was determined to discover. Two characteristics were common to all the dwellings. Each house was close to its neighbor and each was close to the street.

“First of all, we have a shortage of usable land, forcing us to build close together,” Dillard Hyde explained when Nora asked him about the location of houses. “And secondly, no one
wants
to be far from his neighbor. Originally that was for safety in case of Indian attacks…”

Sidonia gripped her husband’s arm until he winced. “Indian attacks?” she squealed.

“Not any more, Mrs. Seabrook, not since the late ‘40's. Now we continue to build close because it’s the most efficient way of dispensing news. On this island, we say the veranda method, that is, calling from one house to the next, works as well as the mainland’s telegraph system.”

“And why are all the houses of wood?” Nora asked.

“Because wood is what we can get most easily from Central and South America.” Dillard stopped in front of a charming two-story residence with palm trees and neatly trimmed plants in front and a veranda that swept around three sides. “Take your house for example.”

Nora drew in a sharp breath and released it slowly. “This house is ours?”

“Indeed, miss, during the judge’s stay, this is where you’ll live. The house is made of Honduran mahogany and heart pine. It is similar in design to the homes of British Colonials in the Bahamas. Not surprising since it was built by a British sea captain a number of years ago.”

Green shutters against milky white siding made the house look cool and inviting. “It’s lovely,” Nora said.

“And substantial,” Dillard added. “Salt air only makes mahogany stronger, nearly impervious to termites. Why, this house is so sturdy, I doubt fire would even bring it down.”

“Why did the sea captain leave such a beautiful home?”

“He still owns it. I imagine he’ll sell it one day. His wife grew tired of the island and begged to be taken back to England. They made enough money here, like so many wreckers have, so that’s where they’ve gone.”

Thurston shook his head. “Too much money too fast. It’s the root of all evil. These wreckers are like drunken sailors off a boat after a year at sea. Spending wantonly, living wild. It’s a sin I tell you. Making money off the misery of others.”

Tired of hearing from both her parents about everything that was wrong with Key West, Nora walked away from them and entered a gate in the picket fence that surrounded the house. She approached the front door but still heard bits of Dillard Hyde’s response to her father’s observations.

“…false beacons on the shoreline…”

“…needless loss of innocent lives…”

Perhaps there was something wicked after all on this tropical isle. Nora was willing to concede it was possible. And she supposed it was also possible that her savior that afternoon was part of this unpleasant picture. But at this moment, walking under the shade of a canopy of palm leaves toward abundant plants covered with the most colorful large blossoms she’d ever seen, she didn’t want to acknowledge wickedness. She only wanted to feel the silken softness of the petals and breathe in their sweet scents.

Her father’s heavy footsteps sounded on the walkway behind her. “It’s a good thing I’ve come,” he said to Dillard. “And not a moment too soon.”

The front door was opened by a cocoa-skinned woman in a cotton dress and apron. A colorful cloth wrapped around her hair and tied at her nape, accentuating large almond eyes and a full mouth. She stood at the entrance without speaking until Dillard noticed her.

“Ah, Portia, your employers have arrived.” As each member of Judge Seabrook’s household was introduced, the woman responded with a nod of her head.

Soon another, younger, and equally exotic, dark-skinned woman came to stand beside Portia. She was introduced as Lulu. Dillard explained that the two women, as well as a gardener, comprised the household staff unless Mrs. Seabrook determined that other servants were needed.

“Are they slaves, Mr. Hyde?” Sidonia asked.

“Oh, no ma’am, indeed not. Portia and Lulu are mother and daughter. They are both members of the Obalu family, free blacks from the Bahamas. They came to this island like so many Bahamians during the raids of the pirates at the end of the last century. The Obalus have lived here for nearly sixty years.”

Nora anticipated her mother’s reaction. While the Seabrooks were not landed people, they did own three slaves who had stayed behind with Sidonia’s brother in Virginia to care for the family’s townhome and country house while the Seabrooks were in Florida. Her mother was not accustomed to offering wages to Negro servants.

“Does this mean we must pay these people?” she asked.

“Yes, madam. The women each earn five dollars a month, and the gardener, Portia’s son Hector, earns four dollars fifty. They are well worth the money. We have very few slaves on this island, and those principally work at the salt ponds.”

Salt ponds
? Nora had never heard of such a thing. Key West grew more interesting every moment.

“But Florida is a southern state,” Sidonia protested, as if that statement negated everything Dillard had just said.

“Never mind, dear,” Thurston interjected wisely. He walked her toward the house. “The wages are quite acceptable.”

Nora was the last to enter. She started to cross the threshold into a wide hallway with rooms on each side, but stopped when she realized she would be treading on a polished wood floor. Looking down at her soiled dress, she said to Lulu, “Perhaps I shouldn’t come in. I might mar the floor.”

A tentative giggle came from the girl’s coral lips. “Young missy fell in the ocean?”

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what happened. Now my dress is probably ruined and I’m itchy all over. What should I do, Lulu?”

“No problem. I’ll hold the dress while you go upstairs to the second room on the right. That’s your room. Then I’ll take the dress away and put you in the barrel.”

"The barrel?" Nora wasn’t sure she wanted to be put anywhere, but she knew she didn't want to spend another minute in her stiff, uncomfortable clothes. With Lulu following, holding the soggy hem above the flooring, she quickly ascended the staircase in the center of the hallway and found her room. She wished she had time to fully appreciate the charming appointments of her new chamber…the floral wallpaper and bed cover, the pastel settee, lace curtains billowing at French doors to the second floor veranda. But Lulu was all determined efficiency.

In minutes Nora was stripped to her camisole and pantalettes. Her hair was free of the last of its pins and hanging loose down her back. The green traveling suit had been bundled up and removed to the hallway. Lulu helped Nora into a thin robe and ordered her to the garden in back of the house.

“But someone will see me,” Nora protested. “How can I pass through the house with nothing on but these things?”

“Pooh, missy,” Lulu said. “This is Key West. We don’t wear so many clothes here. You go outside and get in the barrel. I’ll come soon to wash you free of salt.”

Nora did as she was told, but she fancied herself a streak of lightning as she ran down the back staircase to the rear entrance. Relieved to find that the sizable back yard was enclosed by a tall fence, she found the barrel Lulu had spoken of. It was mounted on an iron stand next to the house and was raised approximately two feet off a wooden platform on the ground. A panel opened when Nora loosened a latch and she stepped inside.

Almost immediately Lulu appeared and began filling a bucket with water from a cistern near the barrel. “Take your clothes off,” she said when the bucket was full. “This is cool rain water. It makes the hair soft and shiny.”