The Old Cape Teapot

by Barbara Eppich Struna

  Disappointed, he tossed the book on the dusty flooring. A folded piece of paper fell out near his left foot. He picked it up and tried to open it but the fragile vellum began to crumble in his hands. Pulling out his knife, he carefully wedged it between the edges. When the paper finally separated, it broke into four pieces. He laid them atop the old ledger on the floor, matching words into sentences. Across the top, he read the heading out loud, “Davis Baker Mill.”

  The words below looked like they were directions: “Follow the new road to the river of Namskaket. Travel to the southern ridge of where Harwich meets Eastham. The property of Baker and Sons will be marked with a stake ten yards from the corner of the oak. Follow the Magnetic North, parallel with the Cove’s inlet.”

  Tommy scratched his head. “Harwich meets Eastham? I don’t understand. Where’s Orleans?”

  He picked up the smaller book, which looked like a Bible. It had survived in much better condition. Inside, on the second page, a list of names was written in beautiful cursive.

  Thomas Davis, Felicity Gibbs, m. 1721

  Ezekiel, b.1722

  Ezekiel Davis, Lydia Smith, m. 1749

  Ezekiel, b. 1751

  Lydia, b. 1752

  Thomas, b. 1754 (stillborn)

  Mary, b. 1756

  Thomas, b. 1758

  John, b. 1760

  He scanned three pages of names and dates. The last entry was written in his grandfather’s hand. It was his father’s name and birth date: Charles Davis, b. 1959.

  Tommy closed the Bible; his hand resting on the old leather. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Shit! What does this have to do with pirates and treasure?”

  27

  Present Day

  CAPE COD

  I OPENED the gallery door to the house. Danny was standing straight as a soldier. “Uh oh, what happened?” I asked.

  I heard Martha close the dryer door and hurry into the living room.

  Danny was staring, head down, at a dark spot on the carpet.

  “I’m sorry,” he said with tears in his eyes.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” Martha assured him and went to retrieve an old towel.

  He stayed still, with his eyes glued to the carpet and the big red stain.

  I walked a little closer to him. “Did you do that, Danny?”

  He remained quiet.

  “Danny?”

  Just as I was about to begin a tirade about bringing drinks into the living room, Martha returned and hustled over to the spot. She threw a towel on top of it and told him, “Start dancing!”

  Danny looked puzzled and so did I.

  “Here, let me show you.” Martha stepped on the towel and began to move her feet across it, pressing them into the carpet to absorb the liquid that slowly seeped deeper into the woven threads. Danny watched her body twist and turn; her large breasts jiggling back and forth.

  She looked up and met his eyes, “Come on, you try it.”

  A smile grew across his face as he stepped onto the cloth dance floor. He went into a wild jig, kicking his feet up into the air. Martha went to retrieve a bottle of carpet cleaner. I could hear her laughing all the way to the laundry room. When she returned, she rubbed the clear liquid into the soiled carpet, trying to get it clean.

  “Don’t be too hard on the boy. It was an accident, Nancy. I think we got it just in time.”

  I looked directly at Danny. “Okay, but you need to take your drinks in the kitchen from now on.” I re-stated the rules of the house and asked one more time, “Understand?”

  He nodded.

  I hurried over to the foyer bench, scooped up the teapot wrapped in the quilt and made my way back to Paul’s studio to show him my new treasure.

  ***

  “Here it is.” I placed it on his drawing table and slowly unwrapped it. The pottery shard was placed next to it. “What do you think?” I stepped away so he could get a better look.

  “Well, you’re right, they do match each other,” Paul agreed.

  I watched him pick up the teapot and turn it over to see if there was any writing on the bottom. The lid dropped away and fell softly on top of the quilt.

  “Oh my God! How did you do that?” I was stunned.

  “I just turned it over,” Paul said. “I didn’t do anything.”

  I pushed him aside. “Let me see.”

  I replaced the lid atop the teapot then took it off again. I couldn’t believe that it was loose. It had been stuck back at the antique store. I turned it upside down once more and noticed the edge of something peeking out of its opening.

  “Wait a minute,” I said and shook the teapot. I pushed my fingertips into the opening and began to twirl my fingers around inside until I was able to feel whatever was in there. Determined to get it out, I squeezed my hand in a little more. Finally grabbing hold of it and with a slow pull, I eased it out. It fell on top of the quilt next to the small lid.

  “What is it?” Paul asked.

  “Looks like some kind of folded paper.” My heart was racing.

  “Open it up.”

  “I’m too nervous.”

  “If you don’t, I will,” Paul gently coaxed.

  “Okay…okay, give me a second.” I wiped my hands on my jeans, picked up the delicate paper, unfolded it, and carefully laid it flat. There was a map drawn on it, with writing at the bottom. “How could this be? It looks just like the one that fell out of the Julian’s Bible on Antigua.”

  Paul leaned in to me. “Let me see that.” After a few seconds of examining the parchment he pointed to its lower right hand corner. “What’s written down here?” We both looked closer.

  I read, “Davis Baker Mill.”

  He added, “This fancy script underneath it looks like a description of a location,”

  I pushed against Paul’s shoulder. “Wait a minute, there’s something else that’s different here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “See this?” My fingers hovered above a small mark resembling an x over a small square and the number 3 with a W under it. “I don’t remember seeing these markings on the other map.”

  He bent his head nearer to see it. “Looks like a little drawing of a windmill…maybe it’s the Davis Baker Mill?”

  “What do you make of the number 3 and the letter W?” I had an idea. “I’ll be right back.”

  I rushed out of the studio and back into the house. The gallery door slammed shut behind me. Martha was in the kitchen peeling potatoes for the night’s dinner. Danny, busy with coloring, listened to the sounds of the TV blaring the antics of Sesame Street. As I ran past them in the kitchen, I hesitated only for a second to wave at Danny. Once out of sight, I continued a fast pace up the stairs to the bedroom closet to retrieve the other map. Then I heard him downstairs scramble off his chair to see what was going on and run over to the bottom of the stairway. What a little monkey he is, I thought; he’s always so curious and usually gets himself into trouble. With the map in hand, I traveled back down the steps where Danny was waiting for me. “Honey, I gotta go talk with Daddy. Stay with Martha.”

  I clutched the copy of the old map from Antigua as Danny began to quickly follow behind me. I turned around and firmly repeated, “Stay with Martha. You can’t come with Mommy right now.” I managed to escape through the gallery door by myself.

  28

  Present Day - Mid-November

  CAPE COD

  FINDING ANOTHER MAP was intriguing. Over the next weeks, I studied both of them every chance I could. They were of the Cape and the same hand had definitely drawn them. The only significant difference was the name, Davis Baker Mill, and the added directions to the site.

  It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to keep my mind on being a good mom. According to the calendar, the holidays were fast approaching and the kids had so many parties, concerts, and programs to attend. I usually loved it all, including the decorations, but, at this moment, all I wanted was to solve a mystery. I sat at the dining room
table adding to my list of things to do when my cell rang. It was Brian.

  “Hi, Mom. Just a quick call to tell you that Nick is definitely coming to the Cape, but I’m afraid I won’t be coming home yet. I just need a little while longer here.”

  I could feel a sadness begin to slowly rise up inside of me. “I understand,” I said. Don’t start to cry, I thought, no need to make him feel guilty. I swallowed hard. “It’ll be good to finish up your project and get everything settled. Then you can leave on good terms.”

  “Gotta go. Love you and tell everyone I love them, too.”

  I sat there for a minute staring out of the window as my eyes started to moisten. Lately, my thoughts had been with the map, the news about the stolen earrings, and the fact that Nick might be coming for Thanksgiving. Brian’s news had hit a nerve; I was upset. I missed him. The holidays were so special to me. I wanted him home with the family. Then I slowly reasoned that he did warn me about his not coming home. Besides, he’d be proud if we could give his buddy a warm New England welcome. I felt a little better.

  I grabbed a tissue and made my way towards the studio to tell Paul that Brian wasn’t coming home. It might even be nice to have Nick here with us, I rationalized, as he seemed like an okay guy, and he was so interested in what I had discovered. Brian would be home before we knew it.

  ***

  Within the hour, I headed out to the grocery store. As I drove I thought it would be fun, before shopping, to stop at the library in Orleans to see if they had any old maps of the Lower Cape that I could research.

  The library had burned to the ground around 1960, so I wasn’t sure how far back their records went. The land where Orleans is now located was called the South Parish of Eastham in the 1700s. I promised myself that if no new information was found today, Eastham’s library would be my next visit.

  I parked opposite the entrance, locked the car, and walked toward its glass doors. As I entered the building, I noticed in the door’s reflection an old maroon Toyota slow down behind my van. I could see there were no available spaces next to me so I continued to watch the car. It eventually backed into a space over to the side but close enough to see who came and went from the library.

  Standing in the foyer, I pretended to browse some books that were for sale while I watched the car. I noticed trails of smoke coming from the half-open window. The driver sat very still. He tossed a cigarette butt out, reached into his black leather coat for another smoke, and then leaned back to continue his stare at the library doors. He almost looked as if he was watching me. Okay, stop it, I thought. I’m getting paranoid. Paul thinks I’m nuts because watching people is so fascinating to me. I’m always wondering what they’re doing, or where they’re going. I quickly realized that my curious nature was getting the best of me and reminded myself of why I was at the library in the first place. Perhaps the guy was merely noticing our gallery’s signage on the van’s back window. Nothing to worry about, I decided.

  One thing I was certain of, as I entered the main room of the library, was finding the big-framed map on the second floor. I wasn’t sure if it depicted the Lower Cape but, when I saw it hanging in a dimly lit hallway, my phone’s flashlight revealed that it was indeed of the Lower Cape. A grand piece of art, it was intricately drawn with names, dates, and places. I located Doane Rock, or something that looked like it. Curiously, it was labeled Enoch’s Rock, but I knew it was right because the word Doane was written next to it as landowner.

  My interest quickly turned to frustration as the flashlight illuminated the date of the map, 1856, later than what I wanted to see. I went back down the stairs in search of the reference desk and hopefully some answers.

  “Excuse me. Do you have any old Cape Cod maps of the 1700s?” I asked the librarian.

  Peering over her half glasses she said, “Let me see.” And with that she swiveled her chair around to open a low file cabinet behind her and pulled out an old brown envelope. “We only have a few hand drawn maps from that time period.”

  I stepped closer as the woman rifled through the papers within the faded folder. One map was dated 1650, too early for what I was looking for, and the others were of the wrong locations.

  I spoke up, wanting to show her that I also knew some facts. “I know Orleans was not incorporated until 1797, even though they wanted to be separate from Eastham in 1717. On many maps, the name of Orleans is not listed.”

  She smiled then turned away from me. “That’s correct.”

  She must have felt I didn’t need her help after my spouting information so I politely said, “Thank you very much for your time. Where are your historical books about Cape Cod?”

  The librarian pointed to four stacks of books. “Some are reference and others can be circulated.” She busied herself in another drawer at her desk.

  “Thanks again.”

  Pulling down an old, worn black book I noted that the date of publication was 1919, not the right date but good for comparing. I turned to find a table to scan the book for any images of maps and walked right into a tall young man.

  “Excuse me,” I said and returned to the open book in hand. Then I stopped for a second to get a better look at who I had bumped into. I immediately recognized him to be Tommy D from the gaming store. I went back to my research but couldn’t concentrate. When I’d met him earlier in the month, he didn’t impress me as a frequent patron of libraries. Throwing caution to the wind, I walked over to him. “Pardon me, but aren’t you Tommy D Chandler?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know if you remember me, but I stopped into your store a while back and asked you about the estate china that you had recently sold.”

  “Oh yeah. I remember.”

  “Have you found any other pieces?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, I was wondering. Are you finding anything interesting here today?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, it was nice seeing you.”

  Feeling my search was over for today, I decided to go home. I left Tommy D browsing the old books. The maroon Toyota was still parked in the parking lot with its driver still smoking. I unlocked my car and drove to the grocery store. Two unusual guys in one day, I thought.

  ***

  Paul was getting the mail when I pulled into the driveway. He didn’t look happy as he juggled a batch of letters and some trash from the road. I parked the van and opened the rear door to unload the groceries. He came over and grabbed a few bags to carry in.

  “Hi, honey. Everything all right?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I guess. I can’t stand it when people throw things out of their car.”

  “Yeah, it’s too bad.”

  Paul put the grocery bags on the counter, tossed the mail on the kitchen table and threw away the litter. “You know, it’s getting worse across the street. That house is such a mess and now there seems to be a lot of crappy cars going in and out.”

  I hung up my coat. “I’ve been noticing, too. I think it started around the end of summer. They must be renting it out.”

  “I don’t know how they got past zoning. Wonder how many renters there are?” Paul asked as he went to retrieve the rest of the bags.

  I gave him a kiss. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. At least the winter snow, when it comes, will cover the trash so you won’t see so much of it.”

  “How did the library hunt go? Did you find anything interesting?” Paul asked as we unpacked the food.

  “No, not really. But I did run into Tommy D in the historical book section. Remember, the kid I told you about who sold his estate dishes? The ones that matched my shard?”

  “You’re kidding. What’s he doing in the library? I wouldn’t expect someone like him to be a history reader, maybe renting DVD’s or something.”

  “I thought the same thing. It was kind of strange. But, of course, he is a bit of a strange character.”

  “Watch yourself, Nancy. Don’t get too involved. I know how you’re always looking for something
mysterious in everything.”

  I raised my eyebrows and returned a little smile.

  ***

  An hour later, on the way to his store, Tommy D had a hard time concentrating on the road. He turned down the hard rock music blaring from the radio and whispered to himself, “I don’t understand why Harwich is next to Eastham. That stupid library was no help.” At a traffic light, he rustled through the old papers that he’d found in his dad’s attic. When the light turned green, he was able to pull into the parking lot of his store. There was a paper sign on the door that read, “CLOSED.”

  “Jesus Christ!” he yelled. “I ask that creep to do one thing and he blows it.”

  Tommy grabbed the two old books next to him on the seat and slammed the car door. As he ripped the paper sign down and entered the gaming room, a car pulled in next to his car. Within seconds, Silas walked in behind him. Tommy turned on his buddy and growled, “What’s goin’ on, man?”

  “Nothin’. I had to leave for awhile.”

  “Well, next time…don’t! Or you’re outta here.”

  Tommy settled in his back office with the old ledger and Bible.

  By 3 PM, the game noises were blaring as kids poured in after school, pumped for the weekend. Silas stayed out front. Tommy hunkered in the back searching through the old books. Closing the journal with a bang, he held his head in his hand, looking disgusted. He wasn’t getting anywhere with the books or on the computer. He wrote down the address of Nancy Caldwell and shoved it into his pocket.

  29

  Present Day

  CAPE COD

  THE NEXT EVENING, as I sat reading the daily paper, an article caught my eye on the third page towards the bottom titled, Boundaries of Cape Cod. I smiled when I read the last sentence: “If you’re interested in volunteering to search for the boundary lines of Olde Cape Cod, there will be a walk and explore on Sat. Nov. 11 (weather permitting).”