Caleb's Crossing (39 page)

Thomas Danforth was solicitous. Caleb did not lack for the best food, but it came late to replenish what town and college life had robbed from him. The Charlestown physician attended upon him almost daily and Samuel bled and cupped him as often as he thought good to do it. At first, these ministrations and the chance for gentle walks in Danforth’s hayfields seemed to make an improvement in his condition. But as the weather hardened he fell once more into a decline. The day came when he could not rise from his bed.

We were in Cambridge at the Cutters’ house through this time, Samuel assisting betimes the new schoolmaster and betimes visiting his chirurgical patients. I went out to Charlestown as often as I could, to sit with Caleb and read to him and encourage him in every way possible. We all of us hoped for an improvement in his condition with the coming of spring, but the gentler air seemed insufficient to arrest his decline. As his state grew grave, Danforth asked me if I would stay at his home and nurse Caleb. Samuel consented, so readily indeed I feared what he did not say; that his experience told him Caleb’s end was close. Ephriam Cutter’s young wife agreed to take charge of Ammi Ruhama. So I stayed in Charlestown and spent my every waking hour at Caleb’s bedside. There, I heard his fevered ravings as his illness worsened and he slipped in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he would murmur passages of scripture, other times, Latin aphorisms and epigrams would tumble forth from his lips. But at night he would ramble in Wampanaontoaonk. Always, at those times, it seemed that he addressed himself to Tequamuck. The rambling took the form of a conversation, or an argument, and often he would become agitated and thrash in his bed, although by day his failing body left him too weak to raise a hand.

After several nights of this, I conceived a plan—call it a fool’s errand, or a desperate kind of madness—plucked up my courage and, with Samuel’s blessing, bespoke me a passage to the island.

Makepeace and Dorcas were pleased to see me, though I did not give them an honest accounting of the grounds for my visit. That, I confided only to Iacoomis. He waxed wroth, as I had feared he might, and tried every argument to turn me from my purpose. In the end, and sadly, he refused to help me. I cannot say that I was entirely surprised.

This left me with but one place to turn. It took a vast amount of talking on my part to win Makepeace’s agreement, but in the end he let me travel to visit the Merrys all alone. My pretext was supplied by the fact that Anne, still in deep mourning for Joel, had returned thence, having decided to honor his memory by walking the path he had planned to walk. She intended to start a school for the Takemmy children, and thereby fertilize the soil for the seeds of Christ’s gospel.

I will own it: as heavyhearted as I was, setting out on my errand, the ride out of Great Harbor lifted my spirits. Speckle, as ever, was happy to bear me, and pranced along like a phaeton pony whenever the terrain allowed. When I came over the rise that led to the Merrys’ farm, I reined her in and gathered my breath. I had not had an occasion to visit the Merrys when last I was on the island, since they had been all too happy to call upon us in Great Harbor. But now I saw that the industrious family had not wasted a day of the six years since I had last set eyes on their property. They had acquired a pair of calves and trained them up, so that the team of young oxen had cleared the dead trees. The orchard, skillfully pruned and carefully watered, ran in serried rows. I could hear sounds of factory coming from the mill, much enlarged, its great stones turning as the water tumbled brightly through the flume.

There were three fine homes, instead of only one, Jacob and Noah each having built a cottage to shelter their growing broods. It was Noah’s littlest girl, Sarah, who saw me first, and ran to tell her mother. Tobia greeted me kindly and sent Sarah to fetch in Noah from the fields. I watched her go, blonde curls bobbing—the very image of her father.

Noah came in, smiling, yet clearly perplexed by my sudden appearance. “I was with your brother, market day last, yet he did not say ought of expecting a visit from you.”

“I returned hence unlooked for,” I said. Tobia had set out beer and oatcakes, so it was necessary to sit and make inconsequential chatter for some little while. Then Anne came in. She had been giving lessons at her school. She looked well, though without the bloom and gaiety she had worn a year earlier, before her great loss. We spoke of how she went on with the children, and her looks became more animated as she talked of this child and that one, and how they did.

I could see that Noah regarded me throughout, and when he perceived that I was not about to disclose, before the others, my business in appearing at his door so strangely, he made some excuse about needing to take a message to the mill, and asked if I would like to walk over with him and see the improvements there. I caught the hint of a playful smile about his lips as he said this last; he knew very well I had no interest in grist making.

As soon as we were clear of the dooryard, I spoke. “Once, years since, you proved yourself a friend to me, and took a great risk in behalf of someone I held dear, who was in dire trouble. Noah, I have no right to ask it, but I have come here in the hope that you will come to my aid, as a great friend, once again, for such another in extremis.” I told him then of Caleb’s grave illness, and made my strange request. “It may be a fool’s errand,” I concluded, “but our best medicine and most ardent prayers have done nothing for him. If there is anything to be done, perhaps it yet lies in the hands of this other.”

Noah looked grave. “I do not know why you should think it, so complete a crossing as Caleb has made into English ways, these many years.”

“I have my reasons,” I said softly.

“It is not without risk, you know. He is vengeful, so they say who know of him, and filled with spite. He keeps himself alone, these days, since no Christian Indians will suffer his presence among them. He is the last; the only pawaaw who has not renounced Satan and his familiars.”

“I know it. But I have to try.”

And so we took a mishoon to the Takemmy settlement to seek advice from the sonquem there. He was a prudent man. He made it his business to know where Tequamuck encamped at any given time. Better to give the wizard a wide berth, he reasoned, since he had been rumored to send his demon imps after any who took game that he deemed was his rightful portion.

When the sonquem learned that Noah and I sought conference with Tequamuck, he crossed himself and called on God’s protection against the evil one. (He had become a Christian two years since, after long study of the matter.) We set out that same afternoon for the place he named, which was by great good fortune not three miles distant.

I do not know how, but he must have sensed our coming. He was waiting for us, standing, arms folded, behind the blaze of a fire. In its smoke I smelled the sharp tang of burning sage. He was dressed for ceremony. He wore his turkey feather cape and his face was painted in bands of red and yellow ochre.

We reined in Speckle some rods distant from his camp, and dismounted. I was quaking, I own it. My knees buckled when my feet touched the earth. Noah gave me his arm, and I took it right willingly, although when I laid my hand on it I felt that he too was all a-tremble. We willed ourselves forward.

Tequamuck must have cast some charm upon the fire, for as we approached it f lared up for an instant. I winced in the sudden blast of heat. His form seemed to waver in the fiery air between us.

“Why does the child of the dead English pawaaw seek Tequamuck?”

That he spoke in English took me aback. I could not think how he might have acquired it, since keeping aloof from us had ever been his way.

“I … I come to ask your help.” My voice was quavering.

“My help?” He gave a mirthless laugh. “My help? What’s this? What of the power of your one god and his tortured son? Have they deserted you at last?”

I switched to Wampanaontoaonk. It had been years since I had spoken it, but the graceful shapes of the long words fell easily into my mouth. “Please, harken to me. Your nephew is sick. He lies close to death. He calls to you in his fit. I have heard him, night following night. I come to you to seek help for my friend in his illness.”

“My nephew is sick? You think this comes as news to me? My nephew has been sick—indeed, he has been marked for death—from the day he commenced to walk with you, Storm Eyes.”

I felt my breath go out of me. My knees really did buckle then, and Noah had to put out a hand against my fall. Tequamuck smiled. He was, as I supposed, used to having such an effect on people. I tried to fill my mind with prayers—rote words and psalms that were as natural as breath to me. But the fear this man engendered was like a black curtain and I could not summon a single verse. Tequamuck’s voice took on the cadence he used in ceremony.

“I have heard Cheeshahteaumauk’s cries. I have met his spirit. It is a weak spirit, pulled between two worlds. That is your doing, Storm Eyes. You call him friend. You have called him brother. Your friend and brother is lost now, wandering. He searches. Do you know why?”

I swallowed and I closed my eyes. Perhaps I did know. Or perhaps Tequamuck was bewitching me, putting thoughts into my mind. My mouth was dry as ash and I could not gather breath to speak.

“He searches for the son of Iacoomis. He does not find him, and he grieves. He fears he will never find him. That one never learned the way to the spirit world. He has no familiars to guide him. Cheeshahteaumauk’s heart knows this. He knows that if he seeks his friend, he risks abandoning the spirit world of his ancestors, and all his kinfolk there. He will have to go to the house of the English dead.”

I let go of Noah’s supporting hand then and sank down on my knees. Great sobs rose up out of my chest. Tequamuck looked down at me with disgust. I knew that such a display was a disgraceful show of weakness in his eyes. He turned and began to walk towards his wetu. In his mind, the conference was clearly at a close. But I could not let it end there. I had to know how to help Caleb. I gathered my frayed shred of will, rubbed the tears from my face and forced myself to my feet.

“Wait, please!” I cried. “Please, tell me what I must do. How can I help him?”

Tequamuck did not turn. He had reached the wetu and was lifting the woven mat. I moved forward. Noah reached out a hand to stop me, but I cast it off. I looked back into his eyes. “As you are my friend—let me do this.” He turned his hand out in a gesture of helplessness. I ran to the wetu and clasped the wizard by his arm. I felt a shudder pass through him. He stiffened and turned.

His eyes were all black above the lines of red ochre. Intelligent, searching eyes. I felt pinned by his glare.

“What do you want from me? You, who have already taken all. Leave me in peace to mourn my nephew.”

“Please.” My voice was thin, reedy. “Please show me how to help him.”

He drew himself up to his full height and stared down at me for a long time. Though my skin crawled under his searching gaze, I willed myself not to look away. I felt my mind was naked to him, that he probed my every thought. Finally, he gave a great sigh.

“You truly want to help him.” I nodded. “Then follow me. I will show you how.” He lifted the mat and gestured for me to enter. Noah gave a shout but I turned back to him and shook my head. “Wait for me,” I said. Then I followed the wizard into the dark.

I cannot write of what took place in that wetu, because I made a solemn oath, which I have never broken. Some would say it was a pact with the devil, and therefore I am not bound by it. But after that day I was no longer certain that Tequamuck was Satan’s servant. To be sure, father and every other minister in my lifetime has warned that Satan is guileful and adept at concealing his true purpose. But since that day I have come to believe that it is not for us to know the subtle mind of God. It may be, as Caleb thought, that Satan is God’s angel still, and works in ways that are obscure to us, to do his will. Blasphemy? Heresy? Perhaps. And perhaps I am damned for it. I will know, soon enough.

This much of what took place I will set down. In the dim light of his wetu, Tequamuck spoke to me of what he had foreseen—his people reduced, no longer hunters but hunted. He saw the dead stacked up like cordwood, and long lines of people, all on foot, driven off from their familiar places. These many years later, so much has come to pass as he said, and wheresoever his powers of sight came from, I know him now to be a true prophet.

He told me, also, that he had accepted that the power of our God was a greater power than any he possessed. I asked him then why he did not join his people in the Christian meeting.

“How should I worship your God, no matter how powerful, when I know what he will allow to befall us? Who would follow such a cruel god? And how should I lay aside the spirits by whose aid I have roiled the sea and riven rock, who for long years gifted me the power to cure the sick and to inflame my enemies’ blood? To begloom the bright day and set dim night ablaze? All this, my spirits have allowed to me. Your God may be stronger than these; I see that. As I see that he will prevail. But not yet. Not for me. While I live, I will not abandon my familiars and the rites that are due to them.”

When I left the wetu, the sun was setting. The sky was gorgeous—all purple and crimson with gold streaks of light giving volume to the billowing clouds. The strange smoke of Tequamuck’s fire hung all about me and worked on my senses so that I saw all this with an uncanny vividness, each line and color a distinct and separate thing.

“Bethia, you are white as a parchment.” Noah’s eyes scanned my face anxiously. He gave me his arm once again. “Did he do aught to harm you? If he did, then I—”

“Noah.” I interrupted him. “He did nothing but give me the help I sought.” This was not entirely true, although I did not see it clearly then. Only later, when I was face-to-face with Caleb and looked into his eyes, did I understand exactly what kind of help Tequamuck had sent, and that it was both less, and more, than what I had asked of him.