Sea Bound

Bart arrived in Plymouth Dock two days later. The Hibernia was birthed alongside the quay in the harbor, her masts visible from a distance.

He found the ship with no difficulty, deciding to drive down the quay until he recognized her name. He brought his wagon, pulled by four matching black horses, up alongside, the horses’ necks dripping in sweat from the strain of the leather straps and the heavy load for which they were responsible.

Bart carefully stepped down and looked at the sign on the side of his wagon, which read Lester and Pack Bell Foundry, Established 1420. He noticed it was dirty enough to make it difficult to read, so he took out a handkerchief and started rubbing the dust off the sign. When he was satisfied, he put his handkerchief away and turned to look at the Hibernia.

Tired from the long journey, he placed his hands on his waist and turned his back in an effort to relieve his stiffness.

“Hey, who is in charge ‘ere? I got a bell from Lester and Pack that needs to be put aboard the ship.” He sounded impatient when he spoke.

A few seconds later the Captain appeared on deck. He removed his hat to reveal a weathered face and replied, “We will get to it in a moment; keep your pants on! Go across to the Skull and Crossbones and have a pint.”

Bart licked his lips in anticipation of the cold liquid that was waiting for him and said, “Thank you, Cap’n. Don’t mind if I do. But before I go, how much is the passage for one person on your ship?”

The Captain looked down at Bart. “Have you ever worked as a seaman before?” He was short of hands and wanted to see if he could use the driver to help out.

The Captain showed his disappointment by responding abruptly, “In that case, it’ll cost you ten shillings.”

Bart was surprised at the high cost. “Why, that’s a bloody fortune! Anyway, it’s more money than I can afford. Thank you anyway, Captain.”

He walked quickly across the cobblestone dock toward the two-story stone tavern. As he went, he thought, I really could afford the ten shillings, but who would feed me Da in debtor’s prison if I went.

Deciding not to go, he continued on to the Skull and Crossbones. Above the door on a metal bracket, a Jolly Roger sign swayed noisily in the wind, the sound an eerie squeaking of metal on metal. Smoke rose from the chimney into the wet, cloudy sky.

Ari stretched his neck and checked the time. He hadn’t expected Mr. Jefferson’s history to be quite so ... animated. He imagined Jefferson must have really enjoyed his conversations with Mr. Entwhistle. As he turned the page, there was an aside from Jefferson before the story moved on:

“You may be wondering, dear brother, what the story of Bartholomew Entwhistle and the State Assembly Bell may have to do with your new commitment to the freedom of your nation. Have patience. Every step of the journey teaches you about where we started – where Athena started.

“From here, the British bell makes its journey across the sea, where Bart could not follow – his heart and loyalty chaining him to England for his father’s sake.

“When the Hibernia docked in Philadelphia on Sept. 1, a young sailor named Daniel Crisp offloaded with it – following an inspiring inscription to what he hoped would be a better life. He tells the bell’s story from this point forward.”

A few moments later, one of the ship’s crew looked over the side and addressed the Captain, “Where do you want this heavy thing?”

The Captain had by now had time to look at the cargo and realize it might need special handling. “How much does it weigh?” he asked thoughtfully.

The crewman replied, “It says ‘ere, 2,080 pounds, Cap’n. Gore blimey, that’s a heavy one!”

“That’s too heavy for the hold,” the Captain answered, trying to think of a better place to stow it. After a moment he said, “Lash it ‘tween the fore and aft masts. And make sure you lash it securely, or it will be the sinking of us all. We got a rough crossing ahead of us.”

Later that day, the ship set sail under the direction of the First Mate, a young, clean-shaven fellow, confident in his duties. It was making a short sail to Gravesend to take on more cargo.

As the ship set out from Plymouth Dock, the Captain shouted to the First Mate, “Check the rope on that bell there, Mister Crisp.”

Crisp double-checked the tightness on the ropes and stopped for a second when he saw the inscription on the bell.

“Hey, Captain, it says ‘ere on the bell, ‘Proclaim Liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof.’”

“I thought the Colonies belonged to King George,” said the young, impressionable Crisp . “What’s this liberty talk?”

“They paid the freight in advance, that’s all I know,” the Captain answered.

The voice of a passenger—a man of the Bible—was lost in the wind as he corrected them. “It’s a quote from Leviticus!” he shouted into the wind, but his answer was heard by no one.

The journey from Gravesend was arduous. The first day, the Hibernia sailed into a fair wind. As day turned to night, the sea grew rougher. The next day, a Nor’easter developed, rocking the ship from side to side. The storm lashed the sea into a fury, creating 20-foot swells, the wind flew over the crest of the waves, picking up the moisture to dump it around the Hibernia as she creaked and groaned on her path westward through the North Atlantic.

Below decks, travelers to the new world who had never set foot on a ship, held onto anything they could find, terrified. Many did not have the intestinal fortitude to handle rough seas, releasing the only thing left in their stomachs – fear-induced bile.

It was like a chain reaction: the bitter, acrid smell of those fluids nauseated others, who, unable to control their reactions gagged, trying to suppress the coming upsurge, then released more evil-smelling vomit on others around them.

The lucky few with more experience and stamina remained on deck, preferring the fresh wet swells to the poisonous atmosphere below. Many tried to fasten themselves to the side, hoping not to fall overboard. The crating around the bell was lashed to the main deck and didn’t budge. Weary, storm-ravaged passengers surrounded the crate, fastening themselves to it to avoid being thrown around.

By the third day, the sea had calmed, and warm food was being served. Those strong enough to eat had to partake; food was only served three times a week. Nevertheless, these meals were so rotten they should not be eaten. The ship’s biscuits were full of worms and black with mold. The water was too dirty to drink, black with decay. Only the very thirsty drank.

The fumes from rotten supplies, vomit and human suffering were overpowering, and many passengers looked pale with sea sickness or fever. Such was the plight of many immigrants. The great bell with its grand inscription sat impervious.

The bell finally arrived in Philadelphia in on September 1, 1752, where the new steeple of the State House awaited its arrival. However, before it could be raised into place, its new owners made to test the bell’s sound.

In the audience for that first trial was young Mr. Crisp who had given up his life at sea to seek a life of freedom in a new land – following the pretty words on the now cracked bell. He had come ashore with the bell and simply followed it to its new home. He found temporary lodging nearby for the past few nights, trying to figure out what had made him do such a fool thing. His story of the bell’s crossing had earned him an ale or two in the local pub, as well.

They hung the bell and prepared to test it, and then, to their “mortification,” as Norris wrote to the Lester and Pack Foundry, the bell was cracked by the first strike of the clapper.

“Leave it to the British!” Crisp heard grumbled behind him. He had come to know that some in the Colonies did indeed favor a break with the King. As he faced the disgraced bell, he thought it somehow still beautiful in its message to him.

“Time to break the ties that bind, Danny Boy. Tis true enough,” he said to himself as he turned to walk back through the crowd and off into a new adventure.

Norris was fit to be tied, but in his letter to Lester and Pack, he also informed them that two “ingenious” workmen had been hired to recast the bell. John Pass and John Stow, did in fact accomplish this task, although not without difficulty. They cut apart the two-ton bell, melted down the metal, reinforced it with copper, and cast from that a new bell. In March, 1753, their bell was tried and said to have sounded something like two coal scuttles being banged together. Mocked, and disgraced, they once again melted down the bell and recast it. In June, the bell was rung and thought to have sounded as clear as the Lester and Pack bell – before it cracked.

Norris, of course, was not happy, and ordered another bell from Lester and Pack. The State Assembly voted to pay for and keep both, but it was the Pass and Stow bell that remained in the steeple of the State Assembly.

Ari found himself smiling at the thought of it. The bell had traveled so far under such perilous conditions, only to be cracked with the first attempt to ring it. He remembered that the bell had been recast by Pass and Stow. The new bell still carried the inscription Norris had wanted, as well as the names of its new founders. In the end, a bell of British metal strengthen with Colonial copper and recast with Colonial ingenuity had won out.

Not only that. Along the way, the bell had been linked to the idea of freedom in America and had been given a new name.

And he almost had to laugh thinking about how The Liberty Bell was also so famous for the crack across its surface.

Coming from a country always at war for its heritage and its freedom, Ari had little trouble understanding the symbolism the bell taken on.

He had not made many visits to the United States while part of the Mossad, and most of those had not leant themselves to touring historic sites. He supposed if he were to be part of this organization, he would have to make it a point to go and see this bell that his new country revered so greatly.

Ari paused to take a sip of water and shift positions in the overly comfortable chair. He turned the page, and as he began to read the account, he suspected Jefferson had created his tale as much his own imagining of events as eye-witness accounts. Ari noted the year – 1775 – and remembered the letter from Jefferson at the beginning of the book. Organization of the Eyes of Athena was around the corner...