Seven

Sam attended the next town meeting with a singular purpose. He reviewed the reasons for his proposal. The well-being of Judith Morrison mattered to him, as well as the safety of Capernaum’s fisherman. He entered the meeting house, about a third filled with the men of the town.

“Dr. Hathaway! So good to have you join us.” As always, Reverend Snodgrass welcomed him warmly. Lauder also shook his hand, and a healthy and hale Johnny smiled his thanks. Eli and Piers had already found a seat.

The meeting got under way a few minutes later. Sam waited until the floor opened for new business and then stood to his feet.

“Speak, friend.” The mayor addressed Sam.

Sam looked across the gathered townsfolk, hoping they would give his recommendation a hearing.

“When I returned to Capernaum, I was pleased to see the lighthouse. For ten years, it has excelled at its job. It has protected men and ships at sea. Every night, I see the beacon from my cottage. Ten lamps shining strong and clear in the darkest and foggiest of nights.”

Around the room, men murmured. What was his point?

Sam paused before continuing. “I live near the lighthouse, and I can see the effect of the weather on the structure. I have heard it creak in rainstorms and seen the wind blow out the lamps. A truly fierce storm would tear through the wood like kindling.” He drew in a deep breath. “I propose that Capernaum build another, sturdier lighthouse of brick or stone.”

Eli jumped to his feet. “The Rocky Point Lighthouse has survived every storm thrown at it for ten years. It cost this town two thousand dollars to build, and every penny was well spent. I check the building myself, year in, year out. There is no finer structure in all of Capernaum.”

“I do not doubt that, sir.” How could he help Eli understand? “But I have seen lighthouses in other places. On Cape Cod. Ones built of stone and brick. They do not sigh in the wind.”

“Then why don’t you go back to Connecticut or Massachusetts, where you belong?” Eli’s face turned so red that Sam feared he would suffer from apoplexy on the spot. “Only a man afraid of the sea spooks at a little wind in the night.”

“Give them time,” Reverend Snodgrass advised Sam after the town meeting. “The people take pride in their lighthouse. It rises above the sea like the tower of Babel. And I fear people who want to tear down idols are not well liked.” Snodgrass clapped Sam on the back. “I pray it does not take another tragedy for people to see the wisdom of your words.”

❧

Tuesday, July the Fourth, opened with clear skies. Storms and catastrophes were far from Sam’s mind. Today he would express his unity with the islanders by attending the town picnic in celebration of American independence. Mama and Judith had prepared food for both families, and he looked forward to spending more time with the lovely lass. Dressed in his army uniform, he hoped to make a good impression on father and daughter.

When Sam left the army, he would gladly have burned the uniform, along with the blood soaked into every fiber of the cloth. But today he would join with other veterans in display of patriotism. A white belt and vest and black gaiters adorned a plain blue coat and trousers. The scarlet sash and epaulettes indicated his rank as an officer. He would leave off the sword and the other folderol used for dress parade. Should he wear the tall, felt shako hat? Yes, he decided. It showed his regiment, and people might ask.

Mama came in as he cinched his belt. Not as tight as he used to wear it; he had regained some of the weight lost during long days and nights with little food and even less sleep. She drew in a sharp breath and tears misted her eyes. “I prayed every day while you were gone that God would spare my son, since He had already taken my husband.” She wiped at her eyes. “I am so glad He brought you home safely.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “You look better now that I gave you that haircut.”

He smiled at his mother fondly. “Shall we?” They walked out of the house. In the distance, a drum beat, and his feet moved in rhythm.

“Let’s join them.” All of a mother’s pride shone in her eyes. If only Judith would look at him the same way. His pace picked up in his desire to arrive at the picnic. Mama had helped Judith prepare a traditional meal of poached salmon, peas, potatoes, and strawberry shortcake. They would share the fruit of their labors.

Several older men gathered in front of the meeting house, their demeanor proud in their fading uniforms from the revolutionary army. Sam’s uniform looked new, almost gaudy next to theirs. Eli Morrison was the youngest among them, having fought as a young teenager in the battle at Yorktown. Sam straightened his back and marched in rhythm with the drum’s slow cadence. He felt the people around him draw in their breath.

“Captain Sam Hathaway, reporting for duty, sir.” He bowed in front of Capernaum’s senior veteran, old Josiah Pepperill, who had survived Valley Forge with George Washington. Sam snapped off a salute.

The old man returned the salute and peered at his regimental badge. Sam was glad he had worn his shako. “I am proud to make your acquaintance, captain. You fought in the recent war with Britain?”

Sam gave details on his service to Pepperill. The town’s mayor introduced each veteran. The gathered throng clapped enthusiastically when his name, rank, and service were announced. While the mayor continued to speak of the glory of God and country, Sam explored the periphery of his vision for Judith. She stood next to his mother, whispering to her. He pulled himself even straighter, the tassel from his shako blowing in the wind.

Reverend Snodgrass led a brief prayer that included a blessing on the food and then went down the line, shaking each veteran’s hand. The townspeople fell in behind.

Last of all, the pastor came to Sam. “Well done, Doctor. We need a reminder of the recent conflict that preserved our freedom.”

Sam leaned closer and whispered. “Sir. Why did none of the younger veterans join the parade today? I wondered if perhaps I made a misstep.”

Snodgrass shook his head. “Rhode Island opposed the war. None of our men served in the last campaigns. But you did, and we thank you for it.” He wrung Sam’s hands.

Soon after, Lauder came along and congratulated Sam in ringing tones. “Well done, Doctor! We are proud to have a veteran of the war make his home in Capernaum.” In a quieter voice, he added, “Not all of us agreed with Rhode Island’s position on the war, but what could we do?”

Johnny stopped by next, and Sam smiled. Seeing the young man hale and hearty made his return worthwhile.

Even Piers shook his hand. “I would have fought if we’d had a regiment.”

“There is no need to apologize. You show your worth here on Capernaum every day.”

Toward the end of the line, Mama approached with Judith and Eli. Sam drank in the sight of the young woman. She was dressed in blue with red and white ribbons in her hair.

Judith appeared to return his regard. She studied him from the height of the shako and followed the line of his uniform to his newly shined boots. Her lips parted, and she shook her head. “You told me you had served in the army, but seeing you in uniform makes it come to life. Thank you for your service.”

Mama nudged him. He realized he must have been staring. “You’re welcome.”

“Captain Hathaway.” Eli came next.

Sam braced himself. He looked straight into the older man’s eyes, a darker blue than Judith’s, more like the color of the tricornered hat on his head.

“You will have to tell me more about your service.” Eli’s eyes took on a haunted look Sam recognized from soldiers revisiting a nightmarish experience.

He relaxed. Perhaps their common experience in the army would open understanding with Judith’s father.

❧

Judith worked hard not to stare at Sam. He took her breath away. The uniform declared his patriotism and bravery in a way that needed no further explanation. Perhaps now Father would change his mind.

Piers spoke, interrupting her thoughts. “My sister-in-law has spread out our picnic by the rocks.” He offered her his arm.

“We made other plans.” Judith glanced at Sam.

A flush spread across Piers’s face. “So a common fisherman isn’t good enough for you?”

“Piers.” Judith didn’t want to offend him.

“Judith and I cooked together,” Mary said, pointing to rolls in a basket. “But we can share a table, if you would like.”

Judith quavered at the thought. A table shared by Sam, Piers, and Eli would invite discord.

Piers stared at Judith, and then shook his head. “Sara has already set up our spot across the way. On the rocks.” His voice dared Sam to join them.

“If you had asked earlier,” Judith said, wishing to appease him.

“I assumed we would celebrate together, as we do every year. Never mind. I will see you on Saturday.” Piers walked with stiff steps to his waiting family.

“I apologize if my presence caused difficulties.” Sam removed the tall hat from his head and turned it in his hands.

“Oh, that.” Judith threw him a saucy grin. “Piers assumes too much. Come, let’s enjoy the afternoon.”

Sam nodded. “Tell me about your experiences in the war,” he said to her father.

Judith smiled. Father liked nothing better than to talk about his war campaigns. She had heard all his stories a hundred times. He would welcome a new audience.

“Help me finish cooking the meal at our fire.” Mary cocked her head in the direction of the men. “Let them get acquainted.”

She showed Judith how to wrap the salmon in cheesecloth and steam it in boiling bouillon. Around them, other family groups did the same. Yesterday, they had picked strawberries and baked rolls and shortcake.

“Have you ever made egg sauce?” Mary asked.

“Not without scorching it,” Judith admitted.

“Well, let me show you. I boiled the eggs this morning.”

As Judith stirred the sauce—no wonder she didn’t excel at cooking: she lacked the patience needed to do it properly—she listened to snatches of the conversation between Sam and her father. They had each grabbed a roll and took one small bite at a time. They looked like two old soldiers sharing a frugal meal on campaign.

“And then the general said. . .” Sam threw back his head and laughed with her father at the joke.

A few minutes later, she heard, “Benedict Arnold—”

Father was pursuing another one of his favorite subjects. How could the man who turned the tide at the battle of Saratoga and perhaps even of the war have later betrayed his country?

“And those Frenchies, couldn’t have done it without them.” Father often spoke of his friendship with Louis Giguere, a French soldier who chose to stay on in Providence after the war ended.

Judith dropped two diced eggs into the sauce and strained to hear what Sam had to say. He might tell a fellow soldier things he would never tell her.

“Two hundred men. . .” Sam chopped with his hands, illustrating his point. “So much death.”

Judith had seen death. Every island resident had. Men were killed at sea, women and children sickened and died, the elderly passed on to their reward. But she could not imagine the deliberate deaths of hundreds of men in battle. Father never told her those stories. She was glad he could discuss it with Sam.

Mary whipped cream for the shortcake. She dipped a spoon into the sauce. “We forgot the salt and pepper.” She smiled. “That’s easily fixed.” She sprinkled in the spices, stirred it, and offered a taste to Judith.

“Perfect.”

“And the fish has finished cooking. Help me make it pretty.” They peeled the skin off the fish, placed it in the center of a large plate with peas and potatoes, then poured the egg sauce over the salmon. “Get the men.”

Judith walked up behind the two men, heads bent in close conversation. “Father? Sam? Dinner’s ready.”

Father’s head jerked up. “So soon?” He sniffed the air. “Lead me to the salmon.”

A scant three quarters of an hour later, every bite of salmon and vegetables had disappeared, as well as the strawberries. A handful of biscuits and rolls remained for the afternoon.

“I have never had so delicious a poached salmon.” Sam patted his stomach.

“That’s because of the egg sauce that Judith prepared,” Mary said.

“Did you, gal?” Father blinked his eyes. He turned to Mary. “You are a miracle worker, if you can make a housewife out of my daughter.”

Mortified, Judith felt her face flaming with heat.

“Nonsense.” Mary smiled. “She only needs the right teacher. She has learned a great deal in a short time.”

“If today’s meal is any indication of her skill, I’d line up for her cooking every day of the week.” Sam bowed toward Judith. “It was truly delectable.”

Never had Judith received so much praise for her cooking. A pleasing warmth surged through her from head to toe.

“I have overstayed my shift.” Father yawned. “I must rest now, or I will never stay awake tonight. Come along now, Judith.”

Judith didn’t wish to leave. She felt languid, with the sun on her face, the pleasant stupor that follows a delicious meal, the agreeable company of the Hathaways. “Do you mind if I stay awhile longer?”

“I promise to see her safely home, sir,” Sam said.

Father looked to Sam, then Judith, weighing his request. “This one time. It is Independence Day.” He glared at Sam as if daring him to ask again and walked in the direction of the lighthouse.

Something tense inside Judith relaxed at this sign of a thaw in Father’s mind about Sam. Shortly after Father left, Horace Wilson, the gangly schoolteacher, called for everyone’s attention. The flag he held in his left hand, fifteen white stars on a field of blue and fifteen stripes of alternating red and white, fluttered in the wind. The town’s best orator was about to recite the Declaration of Independence.

As he began the Preamble to the Declaration, Judith mouthed the familiar words along with him. “ ‘When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another. . .we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’ ”

As he recited the words, the crowd grew as quiet as the quivering of leaves before a storm. The veterans of the War for Independence joined in a group, pride evident in the military bearing of their elderly shoulders. Light bounced off their uniforms, giving the illusion of the youth and vitality, patriotism and honor that had given birth to the United States. By the time Wilson reached the end of the document, Judith felt the spirit of those men gathered in Philadelphia during hot July days in 1776. Beside her, Sam saluted the veterans. A sheen of tears gleamed in his eyes.

“ ‘And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.’ ”

With the final words, a loud “hurrah!” went up from the throng.

“God bless America!” Mrs. Wembly raised the cry, and others joined in.

Judith touched Sam’s arm. “Thank you for fighting to keep us free.”

He bowed. “I was honored to serve.”

Now that the solemn festivities had ended, the shopkeeper, who was handy with the fiddle, brought out his violin. Piers approached and, without apology, interrupted their conversation. “Judith, you promised me a dance today.”

Judith searched her memory for the promise. He had mentioned the traditional dance at last Saturday’s meal before his shift in the lantern room. She smiled apologetically at Sam and allowed Piers to lead her away.