The Old Cape Teapot

by Barbara Eppich Struna

  “Great, Mommy.”

  He dropped his backpack on the foyer floor and took off for the kitchen. “I’m hungry.”

  When he ate the last bite of his PB&J sandwich, Sesame Street was just about over. I asked, “Want to take a walk on the beach?”

  “Sure.”

  “Grab your pail and let’s go.”

  ***

  The cool, shallow water lapped against my feet as we walked the expansive tidal flats on the bayside of Cape Cod. Danny was carrying his yellow pail and shovel, little toes patting the soft rippled sand just ahead of me. It was late September and one of the final days of summer.

  The air was warm on my face but I could feel an underlying flow of cooler air, a clear signal of autumn’s approach. To my left, a stone circle that I’d built a week ago had fallen apart from the tidal flow. I promptly found several rocks to fill in the empty spaces so the circle would be whole again. As I placed the last stone, I spotted a piece of pottery sticking up above the wet sand, among some broken pieces of quahog shells. I quickly picked it up and rinsed the creamy white piece in a tidal pool. It was curved on one edge and looked like part of a large dinner plate. A pattern of delicate blue flowers trailed across the surface of the old porcelain. Happy with my treasure for the day, I stuffed the chalky relic into my pocket.

  Grey clouds had begun to crowd the western sky. I watched with awe as the dark mass gained strength above our heads. “We better get going.” Grabbing Danny’s hand, I ran to the safety of our car. As I buckled him into his car seat, I joked in my best pirate voice, “Sure looks like something’s brewing up there.” He giggled so I gave him a little tickle. “Now let’s go see what your Daddy’s doing.” I touched my delicate 18th-century locket for good luck and hoped the weather would improve.

  We arrived home just before the rains came pelting down. I emptied my pockets and put the newly found shard on my dresser before taking a shower.

  After dressing, I put away all the travel lotions and creams. When the last of the little bottles was stored in the top drawer, for future travels, the pottery shard from the beach caught my eye. Sadly, the blue flowers had already faded across its now-gritty surface. The lack of seawater always triggered this natural process of drying after being left out of the salty water. Its simple beauty and where it came from began to speak to me. I wondered if I could locate the name of the pattern on this piece. Maybe an antique shop that specializes in ceramics and pottery could identify it for me.

  I took out the map from my journal for another look and then refolded it. Both the pottery shard and map would be better off in the small safe stored in the back of our closet. A little key dangled from a chain on its brown handle. We never hid the key. The safe mainly served as protection against fire damage. I placed both items inside the safe, next to the cotton pouch that contained a dozen silver pieces of eight. I kept these small treasures at home for my own enjoyment, whereas the others were stored at the bank.

  The thick steel box was closed with a quick turn of the little key. Suddenly a wave of sleepiness caught me by surprise, and I realized I was still suffering from jet lag. I knew I’d better get some more rest before making inquiries about the shard; my search would have to wait. Paul has got to see both of these, I decided. I’d show him after supper, when things are quiet.

  As I turned the corner to go down the steps, I got a text from Brian.

  Had small event for orphanage. John’s house broken into. Earrings gone. Call you later with more info. Love you

  Brian

  14

  September 1722

  YARMOUTH - CAPE COD

  FOR TWO DAYS, Tobey waited at the dock for the appearance of Davis. Nervous and unsure of what lay before him, he kept himself hidden from unfamiliar faces. On the third day, Davis finally arrived and said nothing to Tobey; only a glance was given toward the slave as he boarded the packet Marie. Tobey understood Davis’s signal and followed behind him. Their destination was Yarmouth; silence between them remained through the rest of the voyage.

  When news of the Marie’s arrival spread through the small seaside village, Davis’s manservant, Jacob, was summoned to pick up his master at the landing. Old Jacob, an Indian from Nantucket, tied his muffler tighter around his open neck as he set out for the sea’s edge. He had several blankets in the wagon, knowing that his weary passenger would surely be cold and damp in the chilly fall air.

  Jacob was surprised to see a black man accompanying his master but held his questions.

  Tobey remained staid in his demeanor and undaunted in fulfilling John Julian’s orders as their wagon rumbled along the cartway through the sparse forests of Cape Cod. In contrast, Thomas Davis whistled and looked forward to bedding his wife.

  ***

  Smoke drifted from the main chimney atop Davis’s house in Yarmouth, which fed several hearths on the two floors where they lived.

  Hephzibah hurried up the winding back stairs from the kitchen to the third floor attic to change her apron. These sparse quarters were reserved for the live-in servants. The air was chilly to the young girl as she grabbed a clean covering; the room’s warmth came only from the heat of the bricks that formed the chimney. She was going to meet Master Davis for the first time and couldn’t bear for him to see her unkempt.

  Felicity remained in the parlor, with her tea, and waited for her husband. It had been six months since he took his leave and she had news for him.

  “It’s good to be home,” Davis said as he jumped down from the wagon’s bench.

  Hephzibah opened the front door and welcomed him with a curtsy. “Mr. Davis.”

  “Well, whom do we have here?” he asked surveying the young woman.

  “Hephzibah, sir.”

  “I see,” he said, noticing the shape of her body and comely features.

  “Madam awaits you in the parlor,” Hephzibah said keeping her eyes downcast.

  Davis turned to Tobey. “Go with Jacob, he’ll see to you.”

  Once inside, Davis passed his hat and coat to the servant girl and ordered, “Bring my ale to the parlor.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He watched her walk into the kitchen until she disappeared behind the door. Aroused by this young beauty, he adjusted himself before entering the parlor. “Felicity, my dear. How are you?”

  “As well as expected.” Her voice was sharp and curt.

  “Do I detect a slight bother in your voice?”

  “I’m sorry, Thomas, but since you left me here in this place, some events have occurred that I’m quite anxious about.” Felicity folded her hands across her stomach, over her unborn child, and looked straight at her husband. “Do you remember the day before you left for Antigua, when you forced your way into my bed?”

  “Why, yes, it was quite enjoyable,” he said, smirking with relish for the coming night.

  “Maybe it was for you, but your carnal desires impregnated me. I am now with child and in my sixth month.”

  Davis knelt at her feet. “My good wife, your news brings great joy to me.”

  She looked away to the window.

  He took her hands into his. “No matter what you may tell me, either by words or actions, I know that you’re pleased, if not with me, then with the thought of a new life for you to love.”

  He was right about the child. Her features softened and she smiled.

  Hephzibah entered the room carrying tea and a mug of ale. Davis rose from his knees and stood behind his wife.

  After inspecting the tray, Felicity dismissed the servant with, “Leave us.”

  When they were alone, Davis took note of the rose patterned teacup and asked, “My sweet, do you not favor the tea set that I gave to you on our wedding day?”

  “Oh, forgive me,” she explained, “It’s the new servant, I told her to always use that lovely blue tea set that you gave me. She never listens to me.”

  “I’ll handle it,” he said.

  “No, I shall see to the matter myself.” Felicity was d
etermined to prove herself worthy of her husband’s respect in managing the household. When the time comes for her to leave this awful place and return to Boston, he will surely accept her decision to leave as a wise one and in her best interest.

  ***

  As Jacob steered the wagon to the rear of the house and into the barn, no words passed between Tobey and the old servant. When the wagon stopped, Jacob climbed down from his seat and led the horse into a stall. “Come wit’ me,” he said to Tobey. He pointed to a small room to the side of the barn where a single roped bed was positioned under a window. “That’s where you’ll be sleepin’.” It had a blanket and a small pillow on its top.

  “Yes, sir,” Tobey said.

  “How long you staying, boy?”

  “My name is Tobey, sir, and I’ll stay…‘til I do my job.”

  Jacob understood the reference to the word, ‘boy’ and responded with a fatherly mockery. “Oh, pardon me…Mister Tobey.” He spat some tobacco juice from his lips and waited for the young black man to react to his sarcasm. When nothing came, he shrugged and continued his chores of feeding and grooming the horse with no further conversation.

  Tobey rose and began to help Jacob. He ignored the old man’s remark, thinking Jacob may be his only friend in this new place.

  “Been here long?” Tobey asked as he looked for more to do.

  “Almost a year now. Got one more to go.”

  “You can’t leave?”

  “I be indebted to Mr. Davis.”

  Tobey found a pitchfork and threw hay to the horse.

  Jacob was grateful for Tobey’s help and began to feel at ease with the young man. He leaned against a barrel to light his pipe and then shook his head back and forth. “One day I woke up and was told I had to go with Davis.”

  Tobey looked over to the old man. “What’d you say?”

  Jacob exhaled a long stream of smoke. “When I lost my wife and family to that sickness from the white people, I started my drink and couldn’t stop, even after the money ran out.” He squinted his eyes and curled his mouth up to the side. “My people are the Wampanoag, peaceful, strong and welcoming. Too welcoming, perhaps. We didn’t deserve what happened to us. There ain’t many of us left.”

  Tobey understood. He, too, had felt the meanness of those in authority. The strong heft of his next throw of hay almost hit the horse.

  “Hold your temper, son.” Jacob cautioned his charge and continued. “I owed to Mr. Cathcart, the tavern keeper, and was working off my debt. One night, he lost me in cards to Davis. It was a stupid game, and I was forced to leave my home. Now here I be.” More puffs of smoke drifted into the air. “What’s your story?”

  Tobey wasn’t keen on telling too much about himself. He was on a mission for his freedom and the sooner he returned to his island, the better. “I come from Antigua. Belong to the Smith Family and their sugar plantation.”

  “What you doin’ here?”

  “Business with Mr. Davis. As soon as I find what belongs to the Smiths, I go home. I can’t say more.”

  Jacob tapped the ashes from his pipe outside on the barn doors. “I’ll not be meddlin’ then.” He motioned to Tobey. “Come, I guess you be hungry.”

  The savory smells of clam chowder and fresh baked bread drifted towards the two men as they entered the kitchen from the rear of the house.

  “Ma’am,” Jacob greeted Hephzibah as she stood near the hearth.

  Turning around, she answered, “Hello.”

  Jacob gestured to the tall black man. “This here’s Tobey, from Antigua. He might be stayin’ with us for a bit.”

  “Good to know,” she said.

  Hephzibah was used to men. The youngest in a family of four brothers, she knew how to handle herself in most any situation. She was not fearful of the stranger “Can I interest you in a pint?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tobey politely answered and stayed seated at the table. As he watched this attractive woman move back and forth, almost dancelike, attending to the final preparations of the evening meal, he wondered what it would be like to bed her, a white woman. Finding himself staring at her, he shook his head and rubbed his weary eyes, trying to rid any notions of this woman from his mind. It had been a long journey. He felt weak and exhausted. Best keep to himself.

  15

  September - 1722

  YARMOUTH - CAPE COD

  THE COLD NIGHT AIR crept in and around the Davis house. Felicity retired early, while Thomas finished his last ale for the day as he studied Julian’s map. After securing the doors downstairs and snuffing the candles out, he went up to the second floor. Eager to pleasure himself with his wife, he stripped off his clothing, pulled back the heavy drapes around the bed, and slid in next to her.

  “Felicity,” he whispered. Not hearing any movement, he spoke her name again, “Felicity.”

  His wife kept quiet. Just as single-minded in his pursuit of getting his way, Felicity was also; she feigned sleep. He placed an icy foot against the calf of her warm leg that lay nearest to him.

  She screamed, “Mr. Davis!” and sat upright. “Stop it!”

  “Something wrong, my dear?”

  “Yes, your feet are freezing. Get them away from me this instant!”

  Thomas let out a quiet snicker.

  Felicity adjusted her nightcap then turned to him. “Now that you have so rudely woken me, I have something to tell you.”

  “Is it that you desperately want me to ravage you?” he asked in anticipation of the coming events.

  “Heavens no,” she spat her words out at him. “I must return to Boston.”

  “What’s that you say?”

  “Mother Gibbs thinks it’s best for my health and for the child that I reside in a place closer to civilization.” She smoothed the coverlets with her hands. “And I agree with her.”

  Thomas lay back onto the bed, exasperated.

  She waited a few seconds before continuing, “I’m not comfortable here, and distancing myself from the attention of doctors with whom I’m familiar is not in my best interest.”

  “Oh Felicity, must you leave me here all alone?” he grumbled.

  “Mother Gibbs has already sent word to reopen our living quarters in Boston. We will leave in a few days.” Her voice was firm and unemotional. She returned to her cocoon under the coverlet and closed her eyes, satisfied that the subject was finished.

  Thomas remained on his back, not moving. He stared at the flower-patterned material that hung above his head across the bed’s canopy frame. Rolling on his side towards her, he asked in one last desperate attempt to satisfy his needs. “My sweet thing, since I will not be enjoying your company for a while, may I create a memory of you that will tide me ‘til your return?”

  Confident that she had prevailed in her demands to leave Yarmouth, Felicity relented to his request, having decided that this was the least she could do for him. Throwing back the covers, she lifted her shift up to her neck, exposing her breasts, and invited him in.

  Thomas formed a lustful smile as he rolled his naked body over hers.

  While he enjoyed himself, Felicity closed her eyes and made mental notes of what to bring to the city and what attire would be the most flattering to hide her swollen stomach.

  ***

  The sun had not yet made its presence across the land when Tobey rolled onto his side to face the opening of the barn stall. He pulled the coarse blanket up over his shoulders in the chilly morning air and tried to fall back to sleep.

  Jacob entered and called out, “Tobey!”

  The old servant stepped across the straw covered floor and over to the lone horse. He patted the gentle steed a good morning and gave him his feed. He called again, “Tobey! Get up!” After lifting the saddle over the horse’s back he secured a strap under its belly. “Best you get up, boy. Mr. Davis don’t like to wait.”

  Tobey sat on the edge of the roped bed, then got up and walked towards Jacob. “Where’s Davis goin’?”

  Jacob shrugged,
“None of my business, but he said you was goin’ with him.”

  Tobey stretched out his stiff muscles. As he scratched his head, his shirt opened to reveal the top half of a branded ‘S’ on his chest.

  Jacob stopped and stared. He kept his gaze on the scar long enough to make the Antiguan uncomfortable.

  The young man quickly tied his shirt closed, rifled through his hair to massage his scalp and said, “I’ll be ready soon enough.”

  Jacob finished readying the old horse and rolled a short handled spade in a blanket behind the saddle. “Go on in and get some vittles from Hephzibah. It looks like you will be travelin’ far today.”

  Tobey shook off the chill from the cool morning air as he took his piss behind the barn. He buttoned his pants and wondered what was ahead. Several days had passed without knowing what was expected of him. He reckoned he would find out today.

  Jacob cautioned Tobey not to forget anything that he might need. He pointed to the bed. “Take that blanket with you for the nights. Carry your food safe…on your own person.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m grateful for your words.” Then Tobey checked to make sure his knife was strapped tight to his calf and hidden under the bottom of his loose pant.

  Within the hour, Davis and Tobey began their journey to Eastham. Tobey followed on foot behind the constant swish of Davis’s horse. They stopped once for a short respite. Tobey relieved himself and crouched against a tree to eat, distancing himself from Davis. By evening, they reached Higgins Tavern, where Tobey found himself relegated to the barn behind the inn with the horse.

  Davis went into the tavern for the night.

  “Good evening, sir,” Mr. Higgins greeted the weary traveler. “How may I oblige you this cool night?”

  “A room, sir.”

  “That I am able to accommodate you with. Your name?”

  “Thomas Davis, from Yarmouth. My servant resides with the horse outside.”

  “Follow me to your quarters. When you’re ready, I’ll provide a meal for you and your man.”

  “Thank you,” Davis answered and trailed the proprietor up the narrow steps.