Beaufort—Saturday, September 19, 1767
ADAM LET OUT A DEEP SIGH. He dried the last couple of dishes from breakfast, then reached his hand down into the murky water of the deep kitchen basin and removed the stopper. The water rushed out through the drain at the bottom and could be heard quickly gushing straight down the pipe that went through the floor and into the warehouse below, then out through an exterior wall and onto the ground outside.
Adam and Boaz usually split up the dish-washing duties, just as they did with the other chores around the living quarters, but Adam had been increasingly argumentative and short-tempered since late August, and Emmanuel had had enough. He told his grandson he would have to do all of the household chores, in addition to his regular work with the shipping company, through the month of September, and if his attitude didn’t improve, he’d tack on the full weight of October’s chores as well. Adam wasted no time finishing up everything else that needed to be done—sweeping and mopping the floors, dusting the furniture, and washing all of the laundry and putting it outside on the line.
He was relieved there were only eleven days left in the month—not just because his extra workload would finally come to an end, but Lord willing he would also know whether or not anything would come of that mysterious letter.
It just so happened on this particular day that there wasn’t much to do in the warehouse. While the Carolina Gypsy, the company’s merchant sloop, was due back any day, there was no real need for Adam to hang around. Since his chores were all done, he could have the rest of the day for pure leisure.
He went to the Topsail Tavern to visit his mother and Valentine and to see if there was anything interesting going on. The tavern was one of the first places in town where any sort of news was discussed. Tavern patrons, many of whom were local fishermen and sailors, would bring back news from wherever they’d been—often the kinds of things that might not be reported in the paper. Really, when it came right down to it, a lot of it was just gossip, but still, hearing people talk about all different sorts of things made for an entertaining way to pass the afternoon.
By the time he got there, it was already almost noon. The door was propped open so that the breeze could blow through. It was such a hot, humid day, the open windows weren’t enough.
“So ol’ Emmanuel finally gave you the day off, huh?” said Valentine. The ruddy-complected tavern keeper of sixty or so years of age was sitting where he always did, behind the bar, down at the end, studying over his ledger.
Adam kicked his feet against the cast-iron door scraper just outside the door of the tavern to knock the dirt off of his shoes. “I wish that were true,” he said, coming inside to take a seat at his favorite bar stool. “I’ve just finished about five hours’ worth of chores.”
“Eh, hard work’s good for ya. Builds character,” said Valentine. “Besides, it’s just as well. Keeps your mind busy. You’ve wasted too damned much time thinkin about all that letter nonsense.”
Adam tipped his head to the side and shrugged. “You won’t get any argument from me there. It’s still on my mind, though. I’ve just been thinking about it while I wash the dishes, sweep the floors, hang out the clothes, and every other blamed chore in that warehouse. The closer we get to the end of the month, the more I think about it.”
“You think too much, you know that? That’s your problem.”
“Fine,” said Adam. “Right now I think I’d like a pint of cider.” He stood from the stool and was about to help himself to a glass—after all, he had lived and worked in the tavern for the first seventeen years of his life—but his mother came over at just that time and told him to sit back down, that she’d get it for him.
“Want me to go fix you something to eat?” Mary asked.
Adam observed his mother. The pretty thirty-seven-year-old had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and she had sweat beading around her brunette hairline. With his own dark features, Adam always thought he looked remarkably like his mama, who had him when she was only eighteen—younger than he was now, at nineteen and a half. But after he met his father in Havana the previous year, he realized his facial features were almost the spitting image of his.
“No, thank you, Mama. Not right now. Why don’t you just sit down and rest for a few minutes. In fact, why are you even working today? Shouldn’t Jackson be here?”
Mary nodded. “He should be, but Valentine fired him.”
Adam’s eyes grew wide, and he let out a loud laugh. “Again?! What’d he do this time?”
“Same damned thing as he always does,” said Valentine. “That boy talks too much and he annoys the patrons. And he annoys me. I’ve warned him to hush and just take the orders, but he always wants to chat and make suggestions. And what do you think happens when the customers don’t like the food?”
Adam shook his head. “I already know. You end up losing money when they expect y’all to make ’em something different. How long before you tell him he can come back again?”
“Figure I’ll give it till tomorrow. Sent him home yesterday afternoon, just before the supper crowd.”
“Oh Lord. I’m sure you were real happy about that, weren’t you?” Adam said to Mary as she pulled him a pint of cider from the keg behind the counter.
She just rolled her eyes and served Adam his drink.
The three of them continued chatting for a few minutes, with Mary taking necessary breaks to wait on tables and Adam stepping in to help as he was needed.
After a while Mary said to Valentine, “I’m taking a break to eat with my son. You can take care of these tables till I’m done.”
Valentine grumbled, then nodded. “Alright, fine.”
The old man had been like a father to Mary since she was a young girl, when her father died and he and his wife, Margaret, were made her guardians. They never had children of their own, so Mary was special to them. That being the case, Mary wasn’t just an employee in the tavern; she was family, and so was Adam. If Mary wanted to take a break, that was about the only way Valentine would get up from his usual perch at the bar to wait on tables.
Mary went into the back to get something for her and Adam to eat. Aunt Franny, the slave woman who had been the main cook in the tavern since long before Adam was born, had made a summer vegetable soup seasoned with ham—one of Adam’s favorite dishes—along with fried corn bread and sliced cucumbers in vinegar. She also made peach cobbler, which Adam said he would have later with some fresh cream.
Just as Adam and Mary were starting to eat, Martin Smith swaggered into the tavern, then came up and leaned against the bar right near Mary.
“How you doin, darlin?” he said to her.
The tall, blue-eyed, blond-haired twenty-eight-year-old was arguably the most handsome eligible bachelor in the whole of Carteret County, but he was also an unapologetic lothario. It relieved Adam that Mary was well aware of this, so she knew better than to succumb to his friend’s charms. Still, he could tell she enjoyed Martin’s flirting—just a little bit.
“I’m hot,” she answered him, “and I’ve been working myself ragged all day. You looking for a job waiting tables?”
Martin chuckled, then looked over at Adam. “No, ma’am, I don’t reckon I am, but if you need any help you just let me know.” He winked at her.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Right now Valentine’s taking care of the folks.” She motioned over to the far side of the tavern, where Valentine was serving a fresh round of drinks to some thirsty patrons.
“Good. I’ll mention this while he’s away,” said Martin. He leaned in close to ask Mary and Adam a question. “Y’all been out to that gypsy camp yet?”
Adam gave him a surprised look. “Do what? What gypsy camp?”
Mary raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Oh, that’s right! I didn’t see you yesterday, so I didn’t get to tell you. We’ve got a family of gypsies that has set up camp over on the north side of Town Creek.”
“Gypsies? In Beaufort? What for?”
“They’re just passing through. They travel, you know?” said Martin. “That’s what they do. I hear they’re selling all sorts of medicines and potions, and they’ve got music and dancing, and some sort of acrobatic show—”
“And oh, there’s a fortune-teller!” Mary interrupted. “That’s what I meant to tell you. I went out there yesterday—it was my day off. Well, it was my day off before Jackson got fired, anyway.”
Adam was stunned. “You went out there? You’re joking!”
Just then Valentine came back over and took his position behind the bar. “I wish she was jokin, boy. I told her it was a bunch of foolishness, but if she wants to throw good money away, I reckon that’s her choice.”
“So you had your fortune told?” Martin asked, intrigued. “What did she say?”
Mary smiled, seemingly happy to talk about her experience. “Well, I can’t remember every little detail, but what she told me was very good. She said she could see a bright, shining future for me, and that I would soon come upon a grand opportunity to come into money.”
Valentine looked at Adam and Martin and rolled his eyes. “See? Pure foolishness.”
Adam chuckled. “Yeah, sure. I reckon she was trying to tell you that Jackson would be fired so you’d get a chance to pick up his hours and make more money!”
Mary wrinkled her brow and smacked Adam across his upper arm. “Oh, you hush!”
Martin grinned but was clearly trying to stifle laughter.
“Y’all go on and laugh,” she said, aggravated. “My fortune may or may not come true, but at least I didn’t lose anything by having it told. She did it as a courtesy.”
“Oh really? And why would she do that?” said Adam with great skepticism.
“Prob’ly just so your mama’d do all this free advertising for ’em,” said Valentine.
Mary ignored him. “When I was there at the camp looking at the different medicines and potions they were selling, the gypsy woman’s daughter came up to me and said her mother sensed great things for me and wanted to tell me my fortune.”
“Is that so?” said Adam. “So she just pulled you over and started telling you all about your future? And what about these potions? What kinds of things are they supposed to do?”
“Why do you want to know that?” said Martin jokingly. “Because you want to buy a love potion to try and charm my cousin when she gets back?”
Adam rolled his eyes at Martin. “I couldn’t care less about buying any potions. I just wanted to make sure she didn’t fall for any of that and lose a pile of money.”
Mary wrinkled her brow. “You ought not be so judgmental, Adam. You haven’t even been out there. You’ve not met these people and already you’re saying they’re deceitful.”
She shook her head in frustration. “They did have some bottles of liquid that they probably called ‘potions’ that they claimed to do different things, but I think they were really just novelties. But they also had some elixirs there—tinctures, that sort of thing.”
“Well, don’t let Adam pick on you too much, Miss Mary,” said Martin. “I was planning to go out there this evening and figured on takin your son here with me. We’ll win him over to their gypsy charms.”
“What makes you think I want to go see a bunch of gypsies?” asked Adam.
“You got anything better to do?” Martin asked. “Besides, I’ve never had the pleasure of knowing any gypsies.”
“And they’re all better off for it I’d say,” Adam replied.
“Oh, come on now,” Martin said. “They have a whole family of ’em out there. It’ll be fun. Anyway, you might like to get one of those fortune things.”
“One of those ‘fortune things’? Is that the proper term for it?” Adam joked.
Martin smiled. “It’s good enough.”
“You do realize it’s just entertainment, right? It’s not like she can really see the future.”
“Maybe she can. Maybe she can’t. Still, I think it sounds like it’s worth tryin out.”
Adam thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I reckon it all sounds entertaining enough. At least it’ll be something different to do. Seems like Saturday nights are always the same around here.”
“Oh, it’s a very different sort of thing to do,” said Mary. “I assure you you’ve not seen anything like it.”
“I don’t know,” said Martin. “Remember, Miss Mary, we’ve been to the Caribbean. We’ve seen all sorts of things.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she said, “but I doubt you’ve seen anything quite like this.”
“What time did you want to go?” said Adam.
“Hmm… How about if we head over there just before dusk? That’s apparently when they start getting a crowd over there.”
“Sounds fine to me,” Adam agreed.
He decided to go back to the warehouse and rest until it was time for them to go.