The Old Cape House (19 page)

“Thank you! Your privacy will be protected,” said the young reporter. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

***

McNutt said his hasty goodbyes and left. As he drove away, he
felt elated. The paper was struggling to survive the online
competition, and the publisher was trimming their budget with a cleaver. This
story might guarantee he’d not be one of the reporters on the
chopping block. Folklore, treasure and mystery would surely entice readers to buy the newspaper. He raced back to his office to share the good news with his editor. His job would be to keep this story going for as long as possible.

***

Everyone stood around the opening of the cellar for several
minutes before Sallinger broke the awkward silence. “Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell,
it has been interesting working with you.” He sealed the skull
fragment
in a small plastic bag. “I trust that, if you find any more human
remains, you’ll notify me immediately?”

“Of course we will,” I said.

“These vellum pieces are yours to keep, Mrs. Caldwell, along
with the coins. Good luck.”

Paul extended his hand to Salinger, “It was nice meeting you.” He turned to Hallett. “Now if you don’t mind, could I please have the coin?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hallett handed the coin to Paul.

I noticed it had already found its way into Neil Hallett’s pocket. I decided I’d think twice about alerting them to more discoveries in the cellar.

***

At the end of the Caldwell’s driveway Hallett paused and
wound down the window of his truck. “Hey, Salinger, I have a gut feeling there’s more to this story.”

Salinger leaned through his opened window. “Go on.”

“I just feel there’s a real connection here–the Bellamy/Hallett
legend has so many twists and turns–and by God, one of those stories about buried treasure has got to be true.”

Salinger laughed. “You be careful.”

Hallett turned his truck left. “Oh, I will. See you around.”

Salinger drove off in the opposite direction.

***

By the time the men left it was almost high noon. I felt queasy
again. “Paul, I don’t feel well,” I said, holding my stomach as I
turned to go into the house.

He followed, cradling the second coin in his hand. When he
found me in the bathroom, I was throwing up. He put the coin into his pocket and asked, “Honey, is everything all right?”

I grabbed a tissue and wiped my lips. “I think I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should go to the doctor?” He held me in his arms and rubbed my back.

“I guess so.” I snuggled into his shoulder. “Paul, what if I’m pregnant?”

“What?” He drew back, surprised at my comment.

I looked straight into his eyes and repeated. “What if I’m
pregnant?”

“How could you be? When was your last period?”

“I lost track of the days with all the excitement about the
hurricane and buried treasure. I think I might be late.” A few tears ran down my cheeks.

Paul gently wiped them away. “Don’t worry. Sit down for a
minute. Let me make you some tea.”

I felt vulnerable and did as I was told. At the table, I rubbed my forehead. “We can’t afford another kid, we have no extra money! Besides, forty is too old to have a baby.”

“It’ll be fine.” He filled the teakettle with water.

“Paul, I’m serious. All kinds of birth defects can happen to a baby born to a woman my age.”

I tried to distract myself and took the first coin out of my jeans pocket and ran my fingers across its shiny face. It didn’t work; my head switched gears, and I wondered out loud, “If I’m pregnant and I choose to have this baby, what’s going to happen in twenty years or so, if there’s something wrong with it? I don’t want any of my children to be institutionalized because no one will be around to manage their care.”

The teakettle whistled. “Let’s stop talking about it. We don’t
even know if you’re pregnant yet.”

I held my mug of cinnamon tea and stared at the gold coin on the kitchen table.

“Feeling better?”

“A little. It’s hard to explain how I feel.” Unconsciously, I traced the edges of the coin around and around. “Are you going back out to the cellar?”

“I thought I would. Come with me. I’ll bring you a chair so you can sit down if you need to.” He smiled and kissed me. “Let’s go and find some pirate treasure.”

***

Brian arrived home early from work. He came around to the
back garden. “Need help?”

“Sure,” I said. “Get the wheelbarrow and another shovel.” Paul’s
idea of a chair was a good one. I was tired. I watched them dig
deeper
into the cellar’s floor. I enjoyed seeing my once sad boy join his
father in an adventure. He looked happy again.

They separated the two metal bars from the rotted chest. Brian handed them over to me. “This is so cool, Mom.”

Another thirty minutes passed before Brian stopped his digging and shouted, “Mom, Dad, I think I found something!” His hand held a third coin. A big grin spread across his face.

I got up to get a better look. “It’s looks like the one I found
yesterday.” I fumbled in my pocket, eager to show Brian my coin.

Paul chimed in, “Here’s the other one Hallett found today.”

“You already dug up two gold coins? Holy shit, Mom! Why
didn’t you tell us?”

“Watch your language, young man,” his father cautioned him.

“Sorry. When you said you found a chest at the bottom of this cellar, we thought you guys were just fooling around. But man, this is awesome. What else is down here?”

“We’re not sure, Brian. We do know that the coins probably have something to do with whatever is written on these old pieces of paper here.” I handed him the plastic baggy.

Brian examined the vellum. “What do the letters mean?”

Paul continued to dig. “That’s what we’re hoping to find out.”

November 6, 1715

CAPE COD

ABIGAIL DOANE’S FACE PALED
as she boarded the
Osprey
packet boat in the early morning hours of Wednesday, the same day Hestor
made her gruesome discovery. Whenever she sailed, Abigail’s
comfort gave way to seasickness, forcing her to stay topside. There were few people on deck, so there was to be no talking, which suited Abigail.

As the waves assaulted her fragile stomach, a cold wind blew its sting across her cheeks. Not one for the outdoors, she carefully stepped her stout frame across the deck as they sailed from the town of Barnstable to Ellis Landing. She felt confident that she’d survive
her journey and set her eyes on the horizon to steady herself.
Nathanial had insisted he would be fine after taking ill during his recent voyage as captain of his ship the
Voyager
. Abigail knew he was feeling guilty for abandoning his duties and agreed that he should
stay behind a few more days to check on his cargo. With the
knowledge that he remained in capable hands, recuperating at the Hicks’ home in Barnstable, Abigail had left early so she could return to North Harwich to be with Maria.

She took a solid grip on the railing by the cargo hold and
focused her thoughts on the young unmarried girl that she had taken under her wing. With a deep breath of ocean air, Abigail stood her ground and worried about Maria. She wanted to contact Minda, who was needed now as Maria might be beginning her travail, or God forbid, had already begun it.

As the packet drew closer to the landing, she saw her neighbor George Eldridge waiting to pick up supplies from the hold of the
Osprey
. She waved, trying to get his attention, in hopes that she
could enlist him to take her home in his cart. It was far too cold to walk. “George! Can you spare a ride for your neighbor?”

Seeing Abigail he said, “Of course. You shall have to wait while I load my supplies.”

With relief, she pulled her hat closer to her face as she waited for the boat to finish docking.

George packed the last bundle into the back of his cart. “How does Nathanial fare?”

“Just fine, just fine,” Abigail answered, climbing onto the seat next to him.

“That’s good to hear; he’s a fine man. Things have been quiet here except for the terrible storm that we had a few days past. Why, we had rain, sleet and such strong winds.”

Abigail squeezed her hands together on her lap and wondered how Maria had fared in the storm. As the cart rumbled closer to her house, she spotted several men standing outside, near the open main door. She saw no smoke coming from atop her roof.

George also saw the men. “I wonder what’s going on? I
recognize that man; he’s employed by the Constable.”

Abigail rose from her seat for a better view, startling George.

“Whoahhh!” he called out.

She fell backward onto the bench as he pulled the horse to a complete stop.

“Abigail, are you alright?” he asked, worried that she might
have hurt herself.

“I’m fine. I need to see what is happening at my house.”

Not waiting for assistance, she quickly grabbed her travel bag and scrambled out of the wagon. Thanking her neighbor, she hurried past two somber men standing by her fence and made her way into the house.

Constable Ezra was near the hearth. Between anxious breaths, she implored him, “Ezra...please...explain.”

She dropped her bag just inside the door and sat down at the sideboard, all the while patting her racing heart. Her eyes glanced down to the sandy floor and to the dark drops that stained its rough
surface. She looked up, her head spinning with questions. Where
was Maria? Why was the constable standing in her kitchen? Where IS Maria? Her hands trembled.

Ezra faced her and was about to speak when the door of the
borning room slowly opened. The local midwife, Mehitable Cole,
stepped out and closed the door behind her. She acknowledged
Abigail’s
presence with only a nod of her head, then walked directly to the
constable. The two spoke in hushed tones.

Impatient, Abigail buoyed herself with a new strength and
voiced
her feelings aloud. “This is my house and I intend to hear your
words.
Mehitable, please speak to the both of us. Where is the young girl,
Maria?”

She needed Minda.

The midwife looked at Ezra for approval to speak. He nodded his head yes.

Abigail was furious as she stared at the woman. Of all the
nerve…I want answers, she thought.

Mehitable shared her interpretation. “The girl is alive, but her
heart is weak. She’s been delivered of a child for there’s proof of
afterbirth. We found her in the borning room but the child is missing. When asked questions, she is mute, as if possessed.”

“How long will she be in this state?” Ezra asked.

“One cannot tell,” the midwife shook her head with concern.
Mehitable directed her next words to Abigail in a show of respect
between women. “Her bleeding has stopped but she’s very ill. When her trauma is over we must help her regain strength. Then we’ll find the truth.”

Abigail sat listening but remained puzzled. Where was the
infant?

Ezra thanked the midwife for examining the girl, paid her a small fee and dismissed her.

He then asked Abigail, “Will you be able to nurse the girl back to health so that she can be questioned?”

Abigail looked dazed.

“Abigail?”

She glanced up at Ezra. “It all seems peculiar to me. I’m not sure of anything right now. But I’ll try my best to do as you ask.”

“Thank you. I will be speaking to the Reverend and the church elders concerning this grave situation. There are many unanswered questions and some that seem to be criminal in nature. I do not think I need to elaborate with you the seriousness of this matter.” When he
reached the open door, he turned around. “Mind you, there’s
something very odd here, I feel I need to warn you that evil may have infiltrated our community and your home.”

“Thank you, Ezra. No need to concern yourself about me.”
Abigail waved him away.

She closed the door and waited for the men to leave her
property. Her hand shook as she held onto the latch of the borning room door hesitating for several seconds before opening it. She was afraid, but she knew she would be able to do as asked. Maria needed her. Still lightheaded from the boat, Abigail managed to find another deep breath and entered the room.

 Two Days Later

The wind seemed to clear Nathaniel Doane’s head as he inhaled the fresh salty air. He stood upright, his feet planted strong on the deck, the sense of ‘Captain’ emanating from his presence.

Nathanial had captained his
Voyager
for over twenty years, transporting goods from Cape Cod to the West Indies and back. He was happiest when at sea, and his trip from Barnstable to his home in the North Parish of Harwich had been pleasant. Coming closer to land he looked for his hired hand, Jacob. As the packet boat,
Osprey,
approached the landing he could finally see his employee. He was
curious also to see his old friend Constable Ezra standing next to
Jacob.

Once on land, the Captain greeted him. “How are you, my
friend?”

With a serious tone, Ezra answered, “Fine Nathanial, but I have news for you. May I ride with you and explain?”

As he listened to Ezra’s words, Nathanial fidgeted with his
waistcoat and chewed on the stem of his clay pipe. He knew the young Hallett girl had sought help from Abigail for her unfortunate circumstances. While he’d never been pleased with the fact that she was staying in his house, Nathaniel had accepted Abigail’s kind intentions towards her as being part of his wife’s nature. The idea that now his house might be host to witchery, according to Ezra, strained his affection for Abigail and her so-called friends.