The Promise Keeper: Sea Heroes of Duxbury

by Lisa Norato

Johnny wrung his hands between his open legs. “My trust and hopes all seem to have deserted me.” He sighed. “In any case, there seems little chance of my sight returning, so you have nothing to fear on my account. Go — be with your family, Lud. They have great need of you at this time.”

  “It grieves me to leave you like this.”

  “I shall be well. Besides, I would prefer to be alone for a while.”

  “Well, you can easily find your way back inside. The door is just here to your left.” The bench groaned with the release of Lud’s weight as he rose. “There are men nearby, searching the grounds if you need assistance.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  Johnny listened to the keeping room door close firmly behind Lud then turned his face in the direction of the nearby sea. It was like peering through a dense, milky fog.

  What was happening to him? Was the damage to his sight reversing or would this be the best he would ever see — this cloudy blur? The pain in his head had eased to a dull ache, and Johnny rose to walk toward the shoreline, guided by the sounds of the tide against the rocky shore and the sea wind rolling on the waves. Unthinking, unfeeling, unseeing, one foot in front of the other and with no walking stick to aid him.

  Captain Moon was dead. Verily, he did not care whether he should stumble or even drop off the edge of the bluff. His heart was empty.

  Soon Johnny could smell the salt ponds and feel the wilted dune grasses brush against his ankles. The light had grown stronger. The fog in his vision seemed to be clearing, but the increased brightness made his eyes tear, giving way to a faint, watery image of sky and sea. From overhead came the noisy cawing of a flock of seagulls flying in toward shore.

  He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “What shall I do, Lord? I feel a failure. Helpless. So I now give my all to you. Your will be done … not mine.”

  He didn’t know how long he stayed that way — a few seconds, several minutes — but time seemed to slip away and, in the midst of the greatest defeat and despair he had ever known, a stirring of peace arose.

  The gulls were circling directly above, their screeches deafening. Johnny glanced up and his vision was filled with a winged, angelic vision. The hazy image swooped down on him, white and ghostly, with a great wingspan and brilliant light shining out from behind its small head.

  He closed his eyes as a flutter of wings beat his head and the thing lighted upon his shoulder. He felt the clutch of one scrawny claw in the worn fabric of his waistcoat.

  When he opened his eyes, his vision was clear, and Johnny found himself staring into the face of his old friend Salty. The gull squawked noisily, scolding, as though it were Johnny’s fault they had been separated.

  He could see. Dear God, he could see. Joyous emotion filled him head to toe, together with relief and gratitude, marvel that Salty had recognized him away from the lighthouse and elation that the friend he’d presumed lost was restored.

  Johnny rose with Salty on his shoulder. The bluff inclined to the sea, and he stared in wonder at the scenic beauty before him.

  Salty lighted off his shoulder to the ground and berated Johnny with a scolding squawk.

  Johnny grinned at the bird’s antics. “I’m sorry we were separated, Salty, but the fault was not mine. I did look for you, and now that you’ve found me, we shall greet each morning together as before, I promise, but right now there is something I must do first.”

  It was crystal clear to him now. Johnny knew what was required of him. In truth, he’d known it all along, but with all the tragedy that had visited him, he’d lost focus.

  He must protect Iris. It was the one thing he could do for Captain Moon. It was what he’d been called to do, what Lady Moon would want of him.

  Johnny retraced his steps and returned to Nook House. He slipped into the keeping room to find it empty, and his hungry gaze soaked up every detail of the simple homey space — the leaded glass window, the rough wide-planked floors, the captain’s rocker, Snow’s braided rug, the warm hearth.

  The pistol had been left on the mantle exactly where Lud said it would be. Slim and elegant, Johnny recognized it as a smoothbore pistol, a weighty piece with gold mounting along its lengthy brass barrel, the butt heavily engraved.

  Until this moment, the weapon had existed only in his imagination as a loud explosion, but now that he could actually see the danger it wielded, he yearned to toss the vile piece into the fire.

  But he wouldn’t. Not yet.

  Even from this far end of the house, he could hear the sound of a great commotion upstairs, the cries and wails of those gathered around Captain Moon’s deathbed. There would be time later to join them in grief, but now he needed to steal away before anyone discovered his sight had returned.

  He tucked the weapon into the waistband of his trousers, concealing it further with his waistcoat. Treybarwick had accomplished what he’d come for. He was bound to be long gone from this area and would be trying to find a way out of Duxbury and back to Cornwall.

  Johnny grabbed his walking stick on his way out the door and started down Nook Road in search of the earl. He’d go directly to the parish constable and inquire whether the villain had been apprehended. He suspected not. Treybarwick was too cunning to be easily caught, which was just as well, for Johnny wanted to be the one to snare him.

  And this time, if there were to be another duel, the earl’s opponent would be armed.

  Chapter 24

  Iris could not turn from her father’s beloved face. He looked peaceful and still. His lashes rested on those once rosy cheeks, now colorless. This could not be. How could Father be gone?

  She sat on the edge of his bed feeling nothing but a dagger-sharp pain in her chest. Her senses clouded. Her thoughts turned dull and dreamy. She was caught in a nightmare.

  “Grief is natural but let us not fall into unjust distress at the loss of our brother Ezra,” the Reverend Morrow admonished the room. “Remember, the sunset is as magnificent as the sunrise amongst God’s wonders. Each serves its purpose. Each is possessed of its own unique beauty. At dawn we welcome a new morning, yet we cannot dismiss the significance of dusk as it gives way to the end of one day into another. So it is with Ezra Moon’s life. He has left this world to rise into another. The eternal life promised us by the sacrifice of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

  Iris heard the words but felt removed from the comfort they offered. Her father had always been kind and good and just. He hadn’t deserved to die like this. To be shot down in the dirt. How could she have led such an idyllic life for twenty-one years and not have known the depth of danger and evil that had plagued her parents’ marriage?

  The buzz of sorrowful voices began to flow around the room. Iris caught snippets of conversation. The funeral must be carried out without delay before the ground freezes again. No later than tomorrow. The women will need to work together to prepare the body and sew the shroud. Construction of the coffin should begin with all haste.

  Iris placed her hand upon her father’s where they lay crossed over his broad chest.

  Hetty closed in from the other side of the bed with a pair of shears so that she might snip off a lock of his hair. The reality of the gesture struck Iris. Bitter tears sprang to her eyes. It was a common death ritual to preserve a lock of hair of the departed inside a mourning ring or a locket as a memento of their passing.

  As the old Cornishwoman lifted a lock of the snow white hair, Iris thought she felt the hand beneath her own move. Was it her imagination? Before Hetty could make the snip, her father’s lashes fluttered, the pale lips parted and Captain Ezra Moon inhaled a deep, ragged breath.

  With a shriek, Hetty jumped back and retreated, while Iris’s heart fairly flew out of her chest.

  Her father opened his eyes and exhaled a gasp of air.

  The mourners clustered around the bed with gasps of fright, cries of awe and shouts of praise. None moved except to stare wide-eyed in bewilderment as Iris’s father lifted his head to look at her with clarit
y and a tremulous smile.

  Iris felt the grace of God upon her and began to cry. “Father, I have never been so frightened. I believed we’d lost you. We all did. Indeed, by all appearances you seemed to be gone. You … you stopped breathing.”

  He curled his fingers around her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Only sleeping, I assure you. So I’ll have no talk of constructing coffins, Alden. Our job is to build boats. And I shall be back to it soon enough, I expect. If you ladies are of a mind to prepare something, then let it be nourishment. I am experiencing some pain at the moment but, I can assure you, my appetite shall return in quick time.”

  “Oh, Ezra, you heard us speaking. What a scare you have given us!” Aunt Mary fell upon the bed to embrace her brother.

  Iris would not, she could not, release her father’s hand for fear he would slip away from her again. Though, verily, his color and health seemed to be miraculously improving by the moment. “But what of Mama? You saw her. You told me so. You said she’d come for you. You said you hadn’t the strength to hold on.”

  “That may be true but, Iris, the Lord has shown me that I have more strength than I’d believed. I am to stay here with you, where one day I shall attend your wedding. I shall live to be a grandfather to your children and die an old man in my bed.”

  “I shall be the judge of that,” Dr. Huxham said. “Step aside now, please, kind folks, and let me examine Captain Moon.”

  At his insistence, the heavy floral bed curtains were drawn around the large mahogany tester to afford doctor and patient privacy. Iris was led away from the bed by her Aunt Mary, who herded everyone into a corner by the fireplace. The family embraced and quietly gave thanks, but someone was absent among them, and as Iris glanced around the room, she didn’t see him anywhere. “Where is Johnny?”

  Her cousin touched her sleeve. “I escorted him outside for some air, as he was looking quite sickly. I must fetch him and tell him our good news.”

  “Yes do. Quickly, Lud.”

  Dr. Huxham addressed them while he was gone, saying, “The captain’s heart beats strong and his vital signs appear well, considering I wouldn’t have given such a favorable report five minutes ago.” Scratching his graying muttonchops, he blinked away the moisture in his bulging brown eyes. “I shall redress the wound. There is no sign of infection, and I have no reason to believe Captain Moon won’t make a full recovery. But it will take time and plenty of bed rest. I cannot stress this enough. He has suffered a most serious injury. We very nearly lost him.”

  “Of course, Doctor,” Hetty said. “I shall attend him myself. With help from Iris.”

  “And me,” Aunt Mary added.

  “And I will return every day,” said Alice, “and shall be about to check on him as well and offer any assistance.”

  Dr. Huxham smiled broadly. “Then he is in very capable hands indeed.”

  “I shall give him another dose of laudanum to help him sleep,” he said, “and later when he awakes, he can take some light nourishment, if he asks for it, and perhaps some weak tea. Water is fine. Rest is what he needs.”

  Reverend Morrow wished to lead them all in prayer before departing, but Iris bid him to wait a moment for Lud and Johnny. Lud returned promptly, but he was alone.

  Iris stared at him questioningly, to which Lud answered with a worried frown. He motioned for his father to join him out in the hallway and Iris followed.

  Her husky blond cousin glanced nervously inside the crowded bedroom to ensure they were safely out of earshot. “I left Johnny on the bench outside the keeping room, but he was nowhere to be seen when I returned. I’ve searched the barnyard and grounds with no success. His walking stick and the dueling pistol are missing. He asked me about the pistol, Father. He wanted to know where you had put it. Do you think he’s gone after the earl?”

  “Alone?” Iris asked. Her stomach clenched with worry.

  Uncle Alden scowled. “What use is a pistol to a blind man?”

  “For a moment, as we were speaking, I looked at Johnny and it seemed he could see me,” Lud said. “When I asked him if he could, he replied he didn’t believe so.”

  “He did not believe so? That is a very queer response indeed. Surely, he would know whether or not he could see.” Iris glanced briefly at her uncle before readdressing her cousin. “Lud, do you believe Johnny would purposely hide the fact he had regained his sight?”

  Lud frowned in thoughtful consideration. “He might, if he desired to go after the earl without any one of us knowing about it. He remarked to me that if God would grant him sight for one day, he would use it to avenge your father.”

  “Then you think he has gone looking for revenge?” asked Uncle Alden.

  Lud gave his golden brown head a shake. “We all know Johnny is a God-fearing fellow. He will choose the right course. It is not what Johnny intends to do to the earl that concerns me so much as what the earl could do to Johnny should Johnny threaten him.”

  Iris wrung her hands. “Oh, Lud, I pray that is not the case. We’ve all been through so much already. I don’t think I could bear it if something were to happen to him.”

  Lud turned earnestly to his father. “I must go after him. I saw the despairing state he was in and yet I left him alone. If I travel by horseback, I should be able to find him quickly. He could not have gotten far.”

  Frowning, Uncle Alden gestured to his son’s arm, still wrapped in a sling. “You are in no condition. You’re injured yourself.”

  “I shall ask Mr. Bliss to accompany me. We shall find him, have no worries, Iris. Now go inside, both of you, before Uncle Erza misses you.”

  Uncle Alden nodded reluctantly then bid his son to be careful. He escorted Iris back inside the room, where Reverend Morrow led everyone in a prayer of thanksgiving and petitions for her father’s continued recovery. After his departure, Dr. Huxham explained that he must also be on his way, as there were others in need of his services. But before he left, he gave Father one final examination. Satisfied he was out of immediate danger, the good doctor repeated his instructions to Hetty and then urged the others to return to their homes, so Captain Moon could rest.

  Presently, the room emptied, all except for Iris and her dear old Hetty. Together they sat quietly watching over Father as he slept, occasionally feeding the fire, repeating prayers, until night began to fall. Uncle Alden returned in the evening with Aunt Mary and the warm fare she and Alice had spent the afternoon cooking. The report from Lud was that the earl had not been seen in town all day. He apparently had never returned to his lodgings.

  There was no news of Johnny, who seemed to have disappeared like the earl.

  Uncle Alden begged her not to worry, a preposterous request, although Iris would not presume to tell him so. Indeed, she was worried, very worried, and continued to be so even after her uncle assured her that all of Duxbury Town and the Nook community remained on the lookout for either one of them.

  But what if Johnny had found the earl and something had happened to him?

  What if he were injured and alone somewhere in the dark?

  She felt helpless and torn and would be out there aiding in the search for Johnny if she didn’t dare leave her father’s bedside.

  Oh, Johnny where have you gone?

  The house grew quiet. Her father continued to sleep on under Dr. Huxham’s laudanum, and with the waning hours an exhausted Hetty drifted off as well. Iris covered her with a blanket then called to Snow. She crept from the room with the dog and went downstairs to procure a bit of nourishment for them both.

  A blend of savory aromas and the lingering essence of wood smoke greeted them in the keeping room entry. Snow immediately ambled up to the long table laden with foodstuffs. Iris’s tummy rumbled at the sight, making her realize just how famished she felt.

  She impatiently forked into a crusty meat pie and raised a mouthful to her lips. Iris moved from one dish to the next, sampling each with haste and greed as though she hadn’t eaten in days.

  The Labr
ador whined beside her, and Iris tossed her a slice of steamed pumpkin. “I’ll have your supper ready in a moment, but first I think we need another log in the hearth. It’s getting chilly.”

  Iris tossed a chunk of wood into the flames. They spat and sizzled. The wind pushed at the murky leaden window. She thought longingly of Johnny and wished for his quick, safe return.

  “I shall shine a light for him. To guide him home.”

  She opened the heavy batten door to the dark, quiet grounds that surrounded Nook House. The air hung with a cold, damp mist. By the entry, a small lantern hung from a wrought iron hook. Iris carried it indoors and lit the candle it held. As she replaced it, the lighted lantern cast a pleasing orange glow in the thick gloom.

  Minutes later, Iris had settled Snow with food and fresh water and had served herself a slice of her Aunt Mary’s pork apple pie, when a loud knock came at the door. Her first thought was Johnny! As she rose to answer him, Snow left her supper to creep on ahead and growl at the door.

  Bang! The door shook with the impact of a second explosive knock.

  Snow gave a ferocious bark, the white fur along her back rising.

  Iris’s scalp prickled to the roots of her hair.

  The door rattled on its hinges with another heavy strike.

  Snow threw herself on the thick, vertical planks, snarling viciously. The dog’s keen senses detected something Iris could not, and Iris’s blood pumped faster because of it.

  Snow was foaming at the mouth, loudly sniffing the bottom of the door with such rage Iris thought she might attempt to chomp through the wood.

  Terror exploded in Iris’s heart.

  All went silent.

  Iris stood rooted to the floor, paralyzed by shock and fear. Presently, her fear dwindled to be replaced by a more powerful emotion — a burning need to protect her father at any cost. She moved to the hearth and grabbed the poker he often used as he sat in his rocker. She stepped forward, her hand trembling as she stretched it toward the latch. She curled her fingers around the wrought iron handle, prepared to back away at the slightest sound from without.