The Old Cape Teapot Read online

  Soon he was enjoying a fine meat stew and a pint of ale. When near to completion, Davis asked Higgins, “Might I inquire your expertise in a matter that’s a mystery to me?”

  “I’m at your service.”

  “Do you know of a large rock or stone aberration close by?”

  “Let me think, now.” Higgins wiped the sideboard in careful thought.

  Davis waited.

  “I can think of only one place that holds such a description.” He came closer to where Davis was sitting. “Not far from here, on the other side of our small settlement and near the shore, lies a large outcrop. You can see it from a distance.” Higgins sat down on a chair opposite Davis. “The good settler, David Doane, named the massive protuberance after his ninth born son, Enoch. Some call it Enoch’s Rock.”

  “Thank you for your kindness. I’ll set out before the sun rises, as per your directions. I bid you good night.”

  “Best be careful. The land is private and belongs to Doane.”

  That night, Davis examined John Julian’s map once more. What was asked of him seemed an impossible undertaking; but now, girded with the knowledge of the whereabouts of a large stone similar to the one on the map, his task was proving feasible. Davis retired with eagerness for the morning and foresaw a possible advancement for more riches in his life. He would need a new strategy.

  ***

  By midmorning they arrived at Enoch’s Rock, which rose eighteen feet above the ground and had a width almost the same. Only the eastern face was slanted for a safe footing; the southern–most facade was a straight vertical from top to bottom. Davis dismounted his horse and walked closer to further inspect the task before him. He placed his hand on the granite surface to steady himself as he kicked away leaves and sticks from its base. Then, walking around the rock’s circumference, he glanced up and down, side-to-side, looking for any aberrations in the ground that would reveal where Julian’s treasure might be located. Tobey watched and waited for word as to what his role was in this venture. As Davis rounded the southern side, he came across a pile of small rocks and called out, “Get the spade!”

  Tobey did as he was told, “Yes, sir.”

  Standing over the mound, Davis directed Tobey. “Move away those stones and dig under them. Give me a hole two feet square.”

  The young man picked up the stones and put them aside, all the while thinking that what lay buried is, without doubt, what Julian sought.

  Davis sat on a slope to the side. As he lit his pipe, he cautioned Tobey with, “Mind you keep a pace with your digging. We must leave here by sunset.”

  It wasn’t long before Davis leaned back and closed his eyes. Tobey wanted to rest also, but as soon as his spade ceased cutting into the dirt, Davis sat up.

  “Hear now, boy. Why have you stopped?”

  Tobey had no reason but exhaustion. He continued his rhythm.

  With one more hit into the black dirt, his shovel resonated with a dull thud. Davis looked towards the sound and then walked over to see what Tobey’s shovel had found. As he came closer, Davis flapped his arm sideways, a clear signal to move away.

  Tobey wiped his brow with the back of his hand and stepped back from the hole.

  “Go further away to the horse; this is none of your business.”

  Again, he did as he was told.

  Davis brushed away the dirt to reveal the top of a small chest. His past life as a pirate fueled his greed this day as his fingers furiously scratched at the dirt around its edges. He grabbed the spade and dug deep gouges along its sides. When the grooved line of where it opened was revealed, he scraped away at the center of the latch. With ferocity, he threw the spade to the ground behind him.

  Tobey could see Davis’s face turn crimson as he leaned further and lower into the hole. He hoped that he might be free of Davis if only the man’s heart would give out. Maybe one hit of the spade over the man’s head would be all that was needed. As his thoughts wondered about what was buried, they also encouraged him to step nearer to Davis and the sharp, flat tool on the ground now closest to his own foot. In silence, he reached for its wooden handle.

  Davis opened the top of the chest, drew in a deep breath and closed it within seconds. Wiping saliva from the corner of his mouth, he caught sight of Tobey behind him with the tool in his hand. “Get back, boy, I told you once already.” He struggled to lift himself up off his knees. “Best you get started filling in this hole,” Davis ordered. “We have no need of its contents.”

  Tobey had seen a glimpse of what the chest held and questioned Davis’s actions, but he kept his lips tight. He began to throw shovelfuls of dirt back into the hole. Taking note of the markings on the chest that was trimmed with leather, he tried to figure out what might happen next.

  He stretched his arm out and held a fist to the late afternoon sun. Turning his palm toward his face, he counted how many folded knuckles fit within the orange ball and the horizon. All four fit squarely between; each bump signifying 15 minutes. He surmised that he had an hour to finish.

  After a while, Davis grew impatient. “Replace the stones over the loose soil. We need to leave this place.” He pushed the last remaining dirt over the covered hole with his own foot.

  When Davis was satisfied with the Antiguan’s work, the two men retraced their steps back to Higgins Tavern for the night. Tobey scrutinized the landscape, noticing any unusual tree or peculiar scape that would enable him to return, by himself, to the rock if needed.

  The next morning, the travelers set out on their journey back to Yarmouth. It was dark by the time they reached Davis’s home. Hephzibah had already retired and lay still under the covers listening to Davis rummage in the kitchen beneath her room. Felicity and Mother Gibbs had left for Boston earlier in the day and the young woman was uncomfortable in the house alone with Mr. Davis. She crept over to the door in her attic room, making sure the latch was secure. Hephzibah then placed the lone chair across its front and tiptoed back to bed. She would force herself to stay awake until there were no more sounds below her floor.

  16

  Present Day

  BREWSTER - CAPE COD

  BRIAN’S TEXT was a shocker. I stood for a moment, stunned, at the top of the stairs. My free hand flew up and touched the delicate necklace around my neck. I wondered if I should take it off. I shrugged my doubts away. How could there be danger back here on Cape Cod? Besides, I can take care of myself; I’m no dummy.

  A gloom blanketed the inside of the house as the storm I’d witnessed from the beach turned into a nor’easter. Stepping down into the dining room, I turned on a few lamps. That’s better. I decided to tell Paul about the break-in at Brian’s house.

  He was building a frame in our attached garage. I waited until he had joined all four corners. “We need to talk.”

  “Now what’s wrong?”

  “Well…before I left Antigua, Brian and I went to dinner at a café’ down on the beach. It belonged to his landlady. When we got back to the house, someone had broken in and rifled through my suitcase. Nothing was taken.”

  Paul looked upset.

  “The Peace Corps office told Brian not to report it, but to be careful, and if anything else happens, he should move.”

  “So…what else?”

  “I just got a text from Brian. Remember the earrings that matched this necklace?” I held it up. “Brian said they were stolen from John Julian’s house.”

  Paul was quiet.

  “I know I should have told you about the break-in, but I just didn’t think it was important. Besides, you kind of yelled at me on the way home from the bus terminal about not getting involved in any new adventures.” I went over and gave him a hug. “Forgive me?”

  “You know, you’re quite a handful but I still love you.” He pulled back from me. “So what are you going to do now?”

  “I might do some more research. I’m curious about what events spurred Bellamy to leave the Cape and sail to the West Indies. I don’t think he was a pirate
in the beginning.” I turned to leave. “I promise to keep you informed of whatever Brian tells me.”

  ***

  Danny was folding clothes with Martha as I closed my office door and settled in front of the computer. The windy storm kept up its fury as rain blew sideways against the house. As I searched the internet, I found that there had been a hurricane along the Atlantic coast in 1715, the year before Bellamy left for the West Indies. In fact, there were several shipwrecks; one big one was Spain’s treasure fleet, led by the San Miguel. The fleet consisted of a dozen or more galleons sent to the Americas by Phillip V to boost its coffers. Suffering from years of war, Spain needed money and bringing home the profits of its expansions into the new world was necessary. Besides, Phillip V was about to be married to his second wife, Elisabeth of Parma, and before she would consummate their union, she wanted a treasure trove of gifts and jewelry. I sat back in my chair. So…that’s what Bellamy was going after…salvage.

  ***

  The sky lit up with a flash of lightening then a thunderous boom shook the old glass in the parlor’s bay windows. I heard a loud bang on the parlor door.

  “Mommy?” said a frightened voice. “Are you in there? Can I come in?”

  To be safe, I closed down the computer. “Sure, honey.”

  Danny pushed the door open and ran over to me. He wrapped his little arms around my waist. “I’m scared.”

  “It’s okay. Let’s go find Daddy.” I felt relief knowing that, according to the weather station, we weren’t in for another hurricane, just an ordinary nor’easter.

  ***

  By late afternoon, the storm had stopped. The kids were settled in front of the TV, Paul was closing up the gallery, and I took out a frozen pizza for dinner. I remembered the old map and dashed upstairs to get it from the safe. The kitchen had the best light for what I wanted to see. I laid it flat on the small oak table. The familiar shape of a bent arm indicated that it was, indeed, Cape Cod. The names of the towns of Harwich, Eastham, and Truro were written across its surface. I could only estimate where the existing towns of today were located. The only other image on the map was an odd curved shape, just above the present town of Orleans.

  Paul joined me in the kitchen carrying the mail. “Is that the map?”

  “Yes. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “It looks awful primitive,” he said.

  “When it fell from John Julian’s Bible, back in Antigua, my jaw just dropped.”

  “Let me take a look at it.”

  I left Paul studying the map and went across the foyer to get a magnifying glass from the junk drawer in the laundry room. Within seconds, I was back at the table and gently pushed Paul aside. “I need to see what this little drawing is,” I said, leaning nearer with the thick glass. “I think it looks like a big rock or boulder.”

  Martha came in to make a salad for dinner and stood at the table to see what we were doing. “What’cha lookin’ at?” she asked as she craned her neck to see.

  “It’s an old map of Cape Cod.” I kept my focus on it.

  “Can I see?” Martha furrowed her eyebrows.

  “Of course.” I slid the map over to her view. “What do you think?” I pointed to the small little drawing. “The only thing I can’t figure out is that.” I leaned in next to Martha. Suddenly I noticed something under it. “Wait a minute, there’s an x. See it?”

  Martha got a better look. “Hmm…yeah, it sure looks like an ‘x’. And that might be Doane’s Rock. It’s a huge boulder in Eastham, near the bike trail, on the way to Coast Guard Beach.” She turned to reach for a large bowl and then took greens out of the refrigerator, unaware of her startling clue. “My children used to climb on it when they were little. It was great fun.” She started to wash the tomatoes.

  I felt as if I had just won the lottery, but grew cautious. “Paul? I want to show you something in the parlor that might need fixing.” He looked at me funny as I folded the map and walked out of the kitchen. He picked up on my message of privacy and followed. Once out of earshot from Martha, I turned and faced him. “If that x marks where the treasure is hidden, then we know where to find it!”

  Paul sat on one of the antique chairs that faced the front bay window and said, “It’s too easy. I don’t know.”

  I sat at my desk holding the map in my hands. “Martha has got to be right; she’s lived here longer than us and boasts that she knows everything about Cape Cod.”

  “How about we all take a ride to find it, tonight, after dinner?”

  “I think it’s a great idea.” Now I was extra curious. “The only way to find anything more about all of this is to go and see it for ourselves.”

  Paul cautioned me as we left the parlor. “Now, don’t get too excited. Let’s keep it to ourselves.”

  I held fast to the map and went upstairs to put it back in the safe until later.

  After a few minutes, Martha left. I decided to set aside the salad and pizza for tomorrow night’s dinner and instead grab some fast food on our way out to find Doane Rock. After eating, we were back on the road and driving past the National Seashore Visitors Center, off Route 6. I noticed Danny was looking at one of his pop-up books in his car seat. Casey was content in the rear bench to sip her soda; she only came along for the ride and some Wendy’s.

  Nine-year-old Molly asked, “Where we going?”

  “Daddy and I want to see a big rock that someone told us about.”

  “Cool, can we climb on it?”

  “I think so, but let’s wait and see if we can find it first.”

  “Look, there’s the sign.” I pointed to a dark brown post with white letters that directed visitors to turn right for a picnic area. Paul eased the van to a stop in the small parking lot. A gray massive boulder shot up through the pines and scrub oak.

  “That’s it,” I whispered.

  We gazed at the rock from inside the van.

  Molly called from behind, “Can we get out? Can we get out?”

  “Sure,” said Paul.

  “Hold on a minute. Let me get Danny out of his seat.” I was as anxious as Molly to get out.

  Molly scrambled out of her seatbelt and waited for the okay to run.

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  She took off and ran around the base of the boulder looking for a place to climb, while Danny followed after her. Casey stayed in the car listening to her iPod. After circling the gray mass once, we both stood still and watched Molly climb higher and higher out of our reach.

  Paul called out, “Molly, be careful; don’t go too high.”

  I pushed some dirt and stones near the boulder’s base with my foot. Paul did the same over to the other side. We were both hoping there would be something that could give us another clue. But there was nothing. Too many years had passed to leave traces of anything buried.

  He looked over to me and said, “Well, my dear, we seem to be as they say, ‘at a rock and a hard place’.”

  “Crap, you’re right.” I looked up and around the boulder and then rested my open palm against its gritty surface. “Besides, we’re on federal property. No one is going to give us permission to dig or do anything to this rock.” Disappointed with the reality of the whole thing, we let Molly and Danny play a little longer until dusk began to settle in around us.

  Casey finished the last of her soda and yelled out the window, “Mom, I’ve got a report due tomorrow. Can we leave now?”

  “Yes, we better get going.”

  On the ride home, the sun set across the bay with beautiful reds and oranges. I refused to think that this would be the end of my search for John Julian’s lost treasure and wondered when Brian was going to call again.

  17

  1722

  YARMOUTH - CAPE COD

  THE NEXT DAY, Hephzibah quietly greeted the man of the house with, “Good Morning, Mr. Davis.”

  “Humph,” he replied as he passed her in the downstairs foyer on the way to his study.

  “My tea, and be quick.”
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  “Yes sir, Mr. Davis.” Hephzibah curtsied, turned, and ran to the kitchen.

  Davis stood by the window, contemplating where he could hide the found treasure of John Julian and how to accomplish this without Tobey’s knowledge. But first all the papers and bills that were neglected while he was in Antigua needed his attention.

  When he was finished, he decided to take a stroll outside to stretch his legs. As he rounded the house towards the rear, he spotted Hephzibah bringing in the dried laundry from the morning wash. She never noticed his presence.

  Davis stood quiet in the shadow on the north side of the house, hoping for a chance to catch a glimpse of anything intriguing or pleasurable to his eye from Hephzibah’s direction. He watched the young maid’s skirts billow in the wind and strained his eyes for a closer view of her breasts each time she bent over to fold the clothes into the basket. He thought a bolder move was needed on his part. He straightened his posture, sucked in his stomach and walked towards the unsuspecting girl. “Hephzibah! ‘Tis a fine day, is it not?”

  Startled, Hephzibah dropped a coverlet on the ground. “Mr. Davis, you frightened me.”

  “Here, let me help you with that,” Davis said and leaned over to pick up the material for her. He took his time to stand up so he could brush his hand against her ankle.

  Hephzibah backed away from his touch. She looked to see if anyone else was near. Seeing no one, she feared her employer’s kindness was a bad omen for her. Quickly, she gathered the last of the clothes from the fence.

  He stood watching her every move.

  She threw the dry clothes into the waiting basket then pleaded, “Please sir, I must get to my duties. If you’ll excuse me.” She bent over to lift the basket up.

  Suddenly Davis reached for her wrist and pulled her close to him, forcing her to drop everything. “What’s your hurry? We’re alone; no one will know if you neglected your work.”

  “I beg you, sir. Let me be. It’s not right.”