The Old Cape House (28 page)

Jack was smooth and charming, but occasionally exhibited a mean streak, which served Neil’s purpose well. He told Jack about an investor he’d met at the donut shop in Orleans. He was willing to provide an advance for whatever they needed to do to find the missing treasure. When Jack questioned him about how he knew the investor, Neil assured him that he had ways of finding people who wanted a piece of the action when it came to a real treasure hunt.

“Well, if you think he’s got the money, I’m in,” Jack said as he slicked his hair back and straightened the collar on his Hawaiian shirt. He followed Neil to a back office.

Neil turned around. “By the way, thanks for making that phone call for me.” He settled back into his swivel chair to explain his plan.

BREWSTER

A Jeep Wrangler pulled onto the driveway the day after Paul had left for Boston. I noticed the bumper sticker on the back read, ‘The
Whydah
’. I hurried to the rear of the gallery and tried to look busy sorting bills. When I heard the customer alert buzzer, I walked to the front. “Hello. If I can help you with anything, let me know. My husband is the artist.”

The customer had a large handlebar mustache, graying temples against dark hair and a funky Hawaiian shirt; he looked like he was right out of an Indiana Jones movie.

“Mrs. Caldwell? I’m Kevin Kennedy from the Museum,” he said with a smile on his face.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “You know, when I got your call the other day, I wondered how you knew that the discovery in the paper was from our backyard?”

“Oh, I have my sources. I’m quite an explorer, you know.” He looked outside towards the woods. After a few seconds of silence, he asked in a polite voice, “May I see where you found the cellar?”

I first craned my neck to see if anyone else had pulled into the
yard. After seeing no one, I said, “Of course, follow me.” As we
walked around the garage I warned him, “If someone comes in, I’ll have to leave and take care of them.”

“No problem, I won’t be long.”

“It’s right over there.” I pointed to the sawhorses that still
guarded the cellar.

“Filling the hole in with dirt has not been a high priority for us;
making sure the gallery is always open is.” And making money, I
thought. “Besides, I want to do some more digging.”

Kennedy walked around the cellar’s edge and then climbed
down the stone steps to the bottom. He was quiet as he crouched down to examine the dirt where the rotted pieces of wooden chest still lay. He stood up. “May I see the things that you found?”

“Just a minute, I’ll get them.” As I spoke, the sound of gravel on the driveway indicated another customer had pulled in. “I’ll be right back, Mr. Kennedy.”

He quickly climbed out of the cellar. “Mrs. Caldwell, may I use your bathroom?”

I hesitated at first, but then said, “Sure, follow me.”

Thank you.” He looked satisfied with himself.

I quickly showed him to the bathroom. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m all by myself for a few days because my husband took the kids to Boston on business.” As soon as I’d spoken I realized I shouldn’t have told a stranger that I was alone.

I found the customers already looking around the gallery. They commented on the weather then asked for directions to where they could find some good ice cream. I offered suggestions to them and said goodbye.

As they slowly walked to their car, I whispered to myself,
“Okay, hurry up, get in your car. I need to get out back with that guy from the museum.”

When they finally pulled out of the driveway, I hurried to the backyard. “Mr. Kennedy?” He was nowhere to be found. I went through the outside porch and into the back of the house to the living room. I called again, “Mr. Kennedy? Mr. Kennedy?”

I found him in the kitchen, standing over the table holding the three gold coins in his hand. Seeing him there took me off guard. How stupid I was! I should have put the coins away after breakfast. I became angry that he’d taken the liberty of roaming through my house and glared at him through the doorway.

 “I hope you’ll forgive me. You were busy with your customer, and I saw these on the table as I passed by to the bathroom.” He
flipped the coins over a few times in his hands. “They’re so
interesting.”

I tried to ignore the rush of irritation welling inside me. With an inner strength, I calmly walked over to him and without a word held out my hand.

“I should be going; thanks for your time,” he said, placing the coins in my palm. “I’m sure the museum will be contacting you if they’re interested in learning more about your discovery.”

I watched him leave through the screen door and thought it strange that he didn’t leave through the back porch where he’d come in. I kept my eyes on him, following his every move until he stood by his jeep. He stared back at the house. It gave me the creeps–God, I wished Paul were home.

I remained guarded closing the gallery. Just to be safe, I double-checked all of the doors to make sure they were locked. The wind began to pick up, and it looked like it was going to rain. I closed the windows half way throughout the house. Remembering the baby, I tried to remain calm. Don’t talk yourself into a bundle of nerves. Massaging my stomach, I took a few deep breaths. Everything will be fine. I felt as if my imagination was trying to take over my head,
so I busied myself with fixing something to eat. I microwaved a
veggie
burger and turned on the news to watch during my dinner. The
weatherman warned of thunderstorms, especially on the Cape. Oh
great,
that’s just what I need. I looked outside–no rain yet, only dark
clouds.

April 27, 1717

EASTHAM – CAPE COD

HIS DARK, WET HAIR CLUNG TO HIS NECK
like the exposed roots holding fast to an eroding cliff. Whispered words floated in the
air as the two men sat drinking ale at Maria’s table, their damp
shoulders hunched over. “The fates have dealt me a bad turn; my
fleet, my men and the
Whydah
…all gone.” Sam Bellamy hung his head and looked at Julian.

The salty Indian held his forehead and cursed under his breath. He knew their prisoner, Captain Montgomery, of the newly captured vessel Anne, had purposely led Bellamy and all of his shipmates aground on the treacherous sandbars of Cape Cod.

“That damned Montgomery,” said Bellamy, slamming the table with his fist. “I said he could have his freedom, and his ship, if he steered us in safely...I gave him my word. But that bastard led us into hell.” He hit the table again.

The sound of his angry fist made Maria jump. She took a quick breath in and out as the two men turned towards her.

“Maria?” The dark haired man said her name again. “Maria?”

I know that voice, she thought. She squinted to get a closer look. “Sam...Sam is that you?”

As he approached her, his torn clothes revealed stains of red on the front. Sam took her hand and placed his head on her breast. “I am sorry, so sorry.”

Maria stroked his damp hair and lifted his head. “It’s you, Sam. You’re here...you came back for me! I always knew you would.”

He looked into her eyes. “I’ve come back, but not the way I wanted.”

She sat upright and placed her bare feet down onto the cold,
sandy floor. She reached for Sam’s hand and tried to stand up. The other man looked up from the table and stood to help her. They both took hold of her as she righted herself. The touch of a man’s hand was
unnerving to Maria after being alone for so long. Even though she
knew
Sam, she began to tremble and felt afraid in the presence of a
stranger.

Sam stepped to the side and quietly introduced his cohort.
“Maria, this is John Julian. He is the best pilot that I’ve ever known. Do not fear him. Rest assured he is trustworthy.”

She looked at John; he had the look and face of an Indian. She reached for her shawl, wrapped it around herself, and walked over to the fire to consider all that was going on around her. She wanted to speak, but no words could describe her troubled emotions. She swiveled her head to look at Sam, then faced the hearth again.

Sam’s strong hands came to rest on her shoulders. He turned her towards him. “Come over to the table and sit down, Maria...we need to talk.”

He looked so pale to her.

He lost his balance and reached out for a chair. “I need to sit down.”

 Maria caught him before he reached the floor. As his
bloodstained
shirt came clearer into view she drew back and gasped. “You’re hurt, Sam!”

“I’ll be fine...just let me rest.” He placed his hand inside the shirt, just below his heart, as Maria helped him to a seat by the table.

John looked worried. “Sam, we must hurry. There’s not much time. He’ll be coming back soon.” He stepped outside to look for Davis.

***

The rattling shutters against the house were normal sounds for
Samuel Harding and his wife. They were accustomed to living on
the outskirts of the village, never minding their isolation or the constant wind. Given their closeness to the coast, the occasional shipwreck was taken in stride, and they always offered help to those who were
unfortunate enough to find themselves in trouble. Tonight,
pounding against their door awakened them, and they heard a voice yelling. “Hello! Hello in there!” Davis screamed, “I need help. Please help!”

Samuel sat up in his bed. “Now what?”

His wife turned over. “You better go and see what’s the matter.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he grudgingly agreed.

By the time Harding reached the entrance, Davis was pounding with both fists. “Help! Help, is anybody in there?”

“I’m coming. Stop the noise,” Harding called out.

As he opened the door, the shipwrecked, exhausted sailor
stumbled into the house and was caught by Harding. The old man prayed under his breath, “Oh Lord, give me strength tonight.”

Harding’s wife, Mary, came around the corner of the hearth to see Davis sprawled on a chair by the table and her husband leaning over him. “Who is it?” she asked.

“Not sure,” Samuel answered. “What’s your name, sir? What
has happened?”

Davis looked up into his rescuer’s face and chose his words with caution. “My name is Thomas Davis…ship-wrecked…all dead….” He paused for a few moments. “It was a pirate ship. They held me against my will, kept me as their prisoner.” He waited for their response and kept his hand on the knife he carried in a small leather sheath strapped to his lower leg.

“Oh my son, don’t worry; we’ll help you. Tell us more of your plight. Are you hurt?”

Mary moved a little closer. “Young man, would there be any treasure on board?”

Davis released his grip on the knife’s handle; that was all he needed to hear.

***

“Let me look at your wound, Sam.” Maria gently lifted his shirt.

Sam winced with pain and leaned back into the chair. “One of my men has gone for help.”

She pulled the stained shirt farther away from his injury. Blood covered his side with splinters of wood embedded in the skin. Her eyes also caught sight of a gold chain with a small ring attached that hung against his chest near his heart. Thinking of Sam’s last words to her, she felt encouraged for a moment, but reality pulled her back as she saw the seriousness of his wound.

 “My ship went aground…” grabbing onto the table with one
hand, “…on the shoals …and the storm was fierce.” He swallowed back his
pain as Maria began to pull splinters from the reddened open
wound.

“Where’s your father? What are you doing here?” asked Sam.

“He’s gone from me.”

“Is he dead?”

“No.” Maria hesitated. “Sam…there was a child, a boy child.”

“Our child?” He saw no evidence of a young one. “Where is
he?”

“I lost him…we lost him, in my travail,” lowering her head, she began to tear. “No one was there to help me.”

“Oh Maria, we had a son?” He bent forward, resting his elbow on the table and tried to hold her, but the pain of his wound stopped him, and he leaned back once more into the chair. “I am so sorry.”
He looked into Maria’s eyes. “Why are you here in this house,
alone?”

“Do you not remember the old McKeon house? They sent me here in banishment because I was accused of….” Maria stopped. She could barely utter the words, “…murder and evil doings.”

“What? Because of the child’s death? How could they punish an innocent mother for such an unfortunate accident? Ridiculous!”

Not wanting to talk about it anymore, Maria fetched some warm
water and a soft cloth. “I’m fine Sam. You need not worry about
me.”

Sam desperately wanted to take her from this God-forsaken
place.

When she returned, she cautioned him, “This will hurt, but
you’ll feel better when I’m finished. Now tell me more of what happened to you.”

As he reached for her free hand, their eyes met. The love that
had brought them together years ago rekindled their passions once more. She kissed him on his forehead and then his hand. “Sam, I knew you would come back to me. Now hold still.”

His face softened. He loved her so very much. But his protective instincts quickly surfaced and made him feel ashamed because he was not there when she needed him the most. He willingly accepted his pain as punishment.

Maria cleaned his wound as gently as she could.

Sam steadied his gaze on her face. He wondered in his heart. How do I find the right words to tell her the things that I have done? She needs to know; she is part of me now.

“There are so many splinters in your wound; I can’t get them all out,” Maria said. “I think I have something that might work.” She retrieved a small bag of salves from a shelf on the wall.