WHEN ADAM RETURNED TO THE living quarters at the warehouse, Charlie Phillips and Fred Canady were there sitting at the table, talking to Emmanuel and Boaz.
“Hey, y’all,” said Adam, surprised.
“Good. I’m glad you’re here,” said Emmanuel. “Mr. Phillips and Mr. Canady were just here telling us more about their recent trip and some of the troubles they’d run into.”
“Oh, is that right?” said Adam. He went over to the table and took the chair next to Canady. “Yeah, I guess we didn’t get to talk much about that when y’all arrived, since y’all were so sick.”
“Everything started out fine,” said straw-haired Canady in that distinctly twangy voice, “but it all went right straight to hell on the journey back.”
“Yeah,” said Charlie. “We were just telling your grandfather that my brother thinks there must’ve been somethin wrong with a barrel of pork we had on board that we’d picked up in Nassau.”
“Pork?” Adam asked, astonished.
Canady nodded in agreement.
Charlie continued. “It’s a long story—you can get your grandfather to tell it to you—but we’ve thought about all the other things it coulda been, but that right there just makes the most sense.”
“Well, if that’s true,” said Adam, “then why is Martin sick?”
“That’s what we’re wonderin,” said Canady. “We wasn’t sick anymore when we all went out Wednesday night. In fact, we were all startin to feel more like ourselves by Monday evenin.”
“I was just telling the lads here that it must be something else going around Beaufort.” Emmanuel counted off on his fingers as he named the sick. “There’s Martin, of course… Everett Bell, and that boy who lives near Dr. Taylor.”
“And now you can add Jackson Willis to that list.”
“The lad who waits tables at the Topsail?” asked Emmanuel.
“Yep,” said Adam. “That’s the one. And there’s at least twenty or so other folks sick that I heard about in town.”
“I wonder if there’s anything common between the ones who’ve come down with it,” Emmanuel mused.
Adam thought about something that old fisherman Ebenezer Gaskins had said back at the tavern.
“You know,” he said, “I went to that meeting this afternoon. There’s a group of folks hell-bent on driving those gypsies out of town, blaming ’em for casting curses and all, but anyway, there was one old man there who said something—prob’ly just as a joke—but he mentioned bad oysters. Martin had oysters when we ate at the tavern the other night. It’s such a simple answer, but I guess it’s possible.”
Emmanuel’s eyes widened. “Of course it is. But wouldn’t you think people have already considered that? It isn’t as if that’s some exotic disease for goodness’ sake.”
“But if folks has got their minds fixed on some gypsy’s curse causing the sickness, they ain’t gonna be thinkin right,” Boaz suggested.
“That’s certainly true,” said Emmanuel. He looked around the table at Adam, Charlie, Boaz, and Canady, and said, “Keep your ears open, lads. Ask around. If it is something as simple as bad oysters, we need to figure out where they were harvested and restrict fishing in that area.”
“Will do,” said Canady.
Charlie, Adam, and Boaz also nodded in agreement.
“Well, fellas,” said Adam, “I’m glad to see y’all are here and feeling better, but I’m sleepy myself. I’m going to bed.”
“So early?” asked Emmanuel. “It’s not even eight o’clock yet.”
“Yes, sir,” said Adam. “It’s been a long, long day for me.”
WHEN ADAM FINALLY CLIMBED INTO bed, he opened his journal again to read back over the things he had written down once more.
The 19th of September 1767 Anno Domini, a Saturday.
This is what the gypsy woman said to me:
Someone from far away with dark features like my own who is no more - Could be my father, but how would she know this unless she guessed?
Said I have a fear - Everyone has fears. This is not specific and could be true of anyone—not helpful.
Says I am skeptical—Yes. I am skeptical, but anyone with any sense could have seen that.
Past is key to future, hidden darkness—Vague. This could apply to anybody about anything
Secret thing from past follows me—said it’s like a rate always chasing me (what is that?)—Anyone might have something in their past that stays with them. Everyone has some kind of secret.
Warnings of curse—
SIGN - Danger will come from afar—This could be about that letter I got months ago, or it could be about a message that is still to come, or it could be she just made this up altogether.
SIGN - My livelihood will suffer—??? I don’t think Emmanuel can make me stop being his apprentice, and anyway, I am his grandson. Maybe this is just something she concocted, or maybe this is about something that will affect his business.
SIGN - The town will begin to experience terrible trials No idea???
WARNING - Avoid woman in violet dress. No idea ???
What was that bell on string about? Was it a secret message?—Her daughter might use that to let her know she has someone else waiting for a reading, or maybe she uses it as some kind of signal or code.
Sunday - The Gypsy arrives with sick crew, filthy, some cargo spoiled by mice.
Monday and Tuesday - Sorted through cargo. Prepared deliveries for customers. Destroyed spoiled and ruined items by burning.
Wednesday - Started working on casks for M. Blount; Some men were talking about seeing ghost of a girl in graveyard - grown men!
Thursday - Delivered merchandise to S. Moore, E. Bell. Visited Craven Street, talked to Mr. Shaw. He believes girl climbed up out of grave. Said gypsy woman told of treasure north of town, gave spell to charm it out. Midgette boys say ghost was a boy. Old woman with bad vision said she only got glimpse of ghost.
He decided to add the things that had transpired since his last entry on Thursday.
Friday - Went to S. Moore’s house. He has broken arm. Wife blames curse. Gypsy warned her same as me - danger from afar. Wonder if other warnings were the same as well. Supper with Martin at tavern, then went out to gypsy camp. Martin stayed there with Stela for party. I left.
Saturday - Chores all day. Martin didn’t come to work—was sick. Went to g. camp at his request to get medicine. Madame Endora gave me bottle as a gift. Meeting at tavern. Gidding and Suggs want to drive g folks out of town. Gave medicine to Martin. Charlie and Canady visited - said pork prob’ly made the crew sick.
Still unknown - Why was the grave disturbed? Who did it?
Who sent that letter? What did it say?
He tossed his journal up onto his dresser and snuffed out his lantern. He turned towards the window and stared out at the moon hanging low over Taylor Creek. Its waning light filtered through the clouds that darkened the sky. He hoped it would rain. Rain always helped him sleep better.
He couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened lately, and he knew the only thing that would put his mind to rest was to get any answers that were within his reach. Over the next day or two, provided he didn’t get sick himself he would likely know whether or not oysters were a common factor in all the sicknesses, or if it was something else.
He decided there was one thing he could do—and that he probably should do—on his own, just to satisfy his own curiosity if nothing else. That was, he wanted to talk to Mr. Shaw again—and maybe talk to his nephews—about that poor little girl’s grave. There was just something about that whole situation that profoundly disturbed him. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he felt like the story that was out there maybe wasn’t the whole truth. And the fact that Mrs. Midgette’s boys seemed to intentionally mislead him and Martin was only half of it. There was something more to it, and he wanted to find out what it was.
Also, he suddenly remembered he needed to be sure and tell Stela or even her mother or sister what some of the people in town were planning if they didn’t leave soon. It just seemed like it would be wrong to let them wind up in a confrontation like the one Cornelius Suggs and Nan Gidding were seeking without any warning.
Just then he started to hear a few raindrops hitting the roof of the warehouse. Oh, thank God. He was grateful for the storm. His mind was still running fast, so he decided to use one surefire way to fall asleep that his mother had taught him when he was a boy—to try to think of every person he knew, starting with his closest family and friends and working outwards from there, and pray something for each of them. It would help take his mind off of trying to go to sleep, and he would eventually tire out and drift off into slumber.
And it did work, but Adam had another dream. This time, however, it was a different sort of dream.
He was on board a ship at sea. He woke up in the captain’s quarters. He’d never been nor even dreamt he was a captain before, and he wasn’t sure that was the case now. Before he even had a chance to look around, his dream had taken him out onto the quarterdeck, but there didn’t appear to be anyone else aboard. Some unseen power was controlling everything, from the rigging to the steering. The sky was gray in the east and bright in the west, as if there were a dividing line in the sky just above the vessel.
Soon rain began to pour down in the east, and the ship was on course to sail directly into the storm. Adam siezed hold of the ship’s wheel, but he couldn’t move it. As much as he tried, something mysteriously had it fixed in place. Rain began to come down, slowly at first, and then in a heavy downpour, and next hail began to pelt the decks. The ship was being tossed wildly in the sea. Adam was relieved he could at least take cover back in the captain’s quarters, but as soon as he entered, he noticed a wall of large wooden trunks that were held in place with cordage. One of the trunks appeared to be straining against a rope that already looked worn, and the movement of the vessel was causing it to be ever more chafed and strained. It was only a matter of time before the cordage would snap.
He saw a small wooden box on the floor and he knew what it was. It was the box that held his letter. He dove down to grab the box, but the swelling of the sea caused the ship to plunge wildly, knocking the box out of his reach. Soon the cordage broke loose and the trunk came crashing down. Adam was able to roll out of the way just in time, but the trunk had fallen on top of the small box. It had crushed it, just as James Davis had described. If only he could read the letter. Maybe he could find the pieces and see what they said before it became too damaged.
He crawled across the deck of the cabin and was able to see a pile of papers and envelopes. He lunged forward and grabbed them. The writing on all of them seemed a blur. It was no matter. None of them looked like his letter. Then water began pouring in through the ports of the cabin. The whole floor was soon covered. He was determined to find the letter. He just knew it had to be there. He saw a wax seal floating on the water that was pooling around him. He tried to catch it in his hands, but the rocking of the vessel made it difficult. Finally, he was able to grab it. He held it up so he could read what it said, but it seemed so blurry. He squinted and squinted and willed his eyes to see, and finally he was able to make out a single letter, V. Velasquez. No question what name that letter represented, but to which Velasquez did it belong? Was the letter to him even from a Velasquez, or was he just imagining the V because he was assuming the letter was from someone from his Uncle Eduardo’s family?
Suddenly, a shimmer in the water below caught his eye. He looked down and noticed a piece of parchment sticking out from under the trunk. He tried and tried to shift the trunk, and finally, thanks to the rising water, he was able to. When he thought it had moved far enough, he pulled on the corner of the page, but a piece of it tore off in his hand. He reached down to get the rest of it, but he tore off another piece. Soon he had all of the pieces. That was better than the letter that had actually arrived in New Bern. He struggled to read this as well. The words were all a blur. He again willed his vision to work. He couldn’t understand why in this dream everything looked so vivid and clear except letters and words. Finally, the words began to come into view. But they seemed far from familiar.
You are cordially invited
to the wedding of
Miss Rocksolanah Martin
and
Mr. Francis Smythe,
of Beaufort.
It was only a dream, but all Adam could think about was how to get off of the ship and get to this wedding. He knew it wasn’t real, and yet at the same time he felt compelled to stop it. In the first dream, Laney was dancing with Richard Rasquelle. Now she was marrying Francis Smythe. He made his way out of the captain’s quarters again and onto the quarterdeck, but now he could see neither sea nor sky. It was as if the ship were sailing in an imaginary storm in a great void of darkness. Where was he?
Just as he ran to the gunwale to get a better look, he was awakened by the sudden impact of his body crashing into the wood floor of his own bedroom at the warehouse.
He turned over onto his back on the floor and looked up at the ceiling. He couldn’t see much, since it was still dark, but the light of the moon that filtered in did illuminate things a bit. Again, he found himself thankful that it had all been just a dream, but he couldn’t help but wonder if parts of it held truth from the past or the future.
He climbed back up into his bed and was in a short time sleeping soundly.