Miss Top leads me back to my room. Before ascending the stairs, I glance back at the front door. I must attempt to escape before I lose my wits. I am certain Mama and Papa are despairing, not knowing my fate. Though Mama’s words on my last night at home still haunt me.
With these thoughts and feelings worrying my mind, I fall into a fitful sleep. I don’t know how many hours have passed when Miss Top returns with a slice of meat pie for supper. I sit up and gobble it quickly. As she stokes the hearth fire, she watches me. Our eyes meet, and she smiles.
I smile back. Might she help me?
She stands, and before she can leave, I make the sign for dipping a quill pen in an inkwell and writing on paper. She repeats my signs. But does she understand their meaning?
She smiles ruefully and shakes her head.
My heart sinks. Has Andrew told Dr. Minot that I am a half-wit, who is not to be trusted or believed?
There must be another way.
I try signing, “Please, please.” My face shows my desperation. She repeats the signs and imitates something of my facial expression. Is she connecting the two as words? I sign, “I am stolen. I must return to my family.” Again, she repeats it back to me. She nods and waits for me, but it’s clear that she doesn’t know what I’ve said. Deflated, I drop my hands.
Miss Top glances at a small bell hanging near the ceiling beside the bed. Someone must have rung it. She half curtsies and bobs, quickly exiting and locking the door behind her.
I wash my hands and face in the basin. I look out the windows and pray for some sign that I will one day be home again.
I swear I see a man in a cap staring up at the window. Is it only wishful thinking that he sees me?
I must have fallen into a leaden sleep because Miss Top has already drawn the drapes and left a tray with porridge and syrup by the time I wake. I cross the room and peer anxiously out the window. No one looks up at me. Perhaps I only dreamt the man.
Desperate for some way out of here, I turn over every object in the room. Most of them are elegant but useless. I find the cameo and cradle it in my hands. I wonder what the girl’s name was. Did she live only to the age in the picture? Does her body lie under the snowy hills or in a family plot far away? Why was I never brave enough to visit George’s grave?
When I feel the door rattle, I quickly stow the cameo back in the drawer. Miss Top has come for my breakfast tray. This time she stays and prompts me to sign by repeating the words she’s memorized and then pointing at me. I attempt to expand her repertoire, to make her see the gravity of my situation.
My signing is slow and exaggerated. Again, I make the sign for “writing,” with raised eyebrows, asking for a pen and paper. Once again, she shakes her head. This time it occurs to me that she may be illiterate. Or has Andrew forbidden her to give me anything but food?
We create a game where I point to things in the room and make their signs. She catches on quickly. Soon I am running back and forth between the objects, and she is making the signs. We exchange roles, so she can point, and I sign.
Then I string words together. I combine “bed” for my Vineyard home with “rain” outside the window, while rocking on my feet, holding my breath, and clutching my stomach as if I am about to be sick. I am trying to indicate my passage on the Defiance. Miss Top looks delighted by my performance.
I collapse on the floor. How will we ever understand each other?
The bell must call her away again because she waves goodbye and vanishes behind the door. I noticed that she doesn’t rattle the handle. Has she been careless or is her trust in me growing? Do I dare cross the threshold?
Out the window, I see Andrew walk away from the house. He has a steady stride and his shoulders are bunched up, just as he looked on the beach my last day on the Vineyard. His discontent worries me. If Dr. Minot is not supportive of his theories, Andrew may take me elsewhere.
This is my chance! I don’t feel any movement or vibrations in the house. Quietly, I creep downstairs to the front door. It is locked. I rattle the handle. I try to poke my smallest finger into the keyhole. I pray, “My Lord, open the door so I can flee and be brought to safety, like Moses in the bulrushes.” It doesn’t budge.
I tiptoe to Dr. Minot’s office. Thankfully, he is not there, and Miss Top is nowhere to be seen either.
I sift through the massive pile of papers on Dr. Minot’s desk. It is untidier than I remember from my first night in the house. I recognize Andrew’s handwriting on several letters.
I set down the paper, feeling sickened. That’s when I see, on a table in the middle of the room, George’s geography book! I open it and find the map of memories still tucked safely inside. Each pen stroke is as familiar to me as the lines in my hand, distinctly George’s creation and drawn with such love. I clutch it to my heart, feeling tears prickle behind my eyes, before I tuck it into the bodice of my frock.
In a red leather-bound notebook, I see the words
I read on:
I remember the handkerchief concealing the cameo. It was embroidered “A.M.” Amy Minot. My clothes and the other objects in the room must have been hers.
I get the feeling I’m being watched. I turn around, but no one is in the room. I continue reading:
Upkeep! I know I wasn’t as useful as I might have been, but I was never a derelict. Whatever tensions came between Mama and me, I know she never thought me useless.
I continue reading:
Once again, I feel something. I face the door to the office but see no one.
Slowly, I turn to look out the window, and the hair on the back of my neck tingles. There is someone. He is wearing a Monmouth cap and looking in at me from the street! I pull back from the pane.
I can’t help but look again. He is still there.
His cap is pulled down over his brow and ears. I haven’t seen one of those since I left the Vineyard. Have my prayers been answered?
I look again. I dare to raise my hand in a wave. The man does the same!
Just then, I feel something on my shoulders.
I jump and a startled sound flies from me. I look up to face Dr. Minot, who is gazing at his journal in my hand.
Spinning round, I slip from his hold, drop the journal, and run upstairs. Without looking back, I close the bedroom door and sink to the floor.
My face is hot with unshed tears. I rock back and forth clutching the map.
Has the man with the Monmouth cap come to rescue me? I look out the window, but there is no sign of him, only a group of merry wassailers or carolers. They are standing under an oil lamp, huddled together, and singing.
It must be Christmas Eve.
The flame I was keeping lit inside of me snuffs out.
I survived the journey to Boston in my own filth. I’ve swayed from hunger and had my ears boxed in Mrs. Muffins’s kitchen. I’ve been stripped bare and examined. But now I feel broken. Darkness grows on the edges of my vision. Wave after wave of terror sweeps over me. I gasp for breath.
My hands make signs, and I don’t know what I am saying. I am an observer in my own body.
I crawl over to the hearth rug and retch water. The fire doesn’t warm me. I shake all over.
Lord, why hast thou forsaken me? Could we have been wrong on the island? Are deaf-mutes lower beings?
I find the strength to stand and stumble toward the looking glass. Holding on to the bureau, I lean into my reflection. Whose eyes are those? The cold stare of a dead fish, lucky to be no longer wriggling on the hook. The nose squashy and too big for the sunken cheeks. The mouth a scar.
I glimpse movement behind me; it is Miss Top. Why did she come?
I make my way to the bed. I look at the small orange on my pillow and choke back tears.
The first time I had an orange was last Christmas. A sailor gave it to Papa, and he gave it to me. I ate the juicy fruit, slice by slice, and kept the peel to flavor Mama’s baking.
That same night, after supper, while George examined his new telescop
e with Mama, Papa drove me down to Ezra Brewer’s house to deliver a pudding I helped Mama make. I also brought a small skein of wool as a toy for Smithy. Mama and I tied red velvet hair ribbons to give to Nancy and Miss Hammond. George had caught the goose. He had gone out hunting with Papa and Mr. Pye. The men slapped my brother on the back for bringing home the finest bird. I can nearly taste the delicious crisp skin we ate together, after thanking Our Lord for the bounty. The next day, we brought whatever was left over to the Meeting House for the less fortunate.
I must spend hours lost in my memories.
In the early dawn, I see Andrew leave again. Where is he going when it’s still dark outside? I have to get out of here. I must communicate with Dr. Minot.
I rattle my door latch, but it is locked. There is no light through the keyhole. I peer into it and see the key was left in the other side of the door. I fetch the wrought-iron fire poker, slip the map of memories beneath the doorframe, and gently push the poker’s pointed tip through the keyhole. Slowly, slowly, till the key drops on the map. I hope it didn’t make a loud clank. I pull the map toward me and seize the key. The door unlocks easily.
I dress, tuck the map back into my bodice, and creep down the staircase. When I reach the ground floor, unfamiliar vibrations startle me.
I whip around. A large clock strikes five o’clock. Will the chimes wake the household?
The door to Dr. Minot’s office is ajar. I run to the window but see no one.
The piles of papers on the doctor’s desk have been tidied up. Paper, ink, and pounce sit beside the journal. I start reading where I left off:
Miss Top’s true name is Nora.
I carefully tear a page from the back of the journal. I pick up the quill pen and dip it in the inkwell. I often stumble when switching from signing to written English. This time, my words come as quickly as a rushing brook.
As soon as I stop writing, I feel a door open and slam shut in the house. My heart pounds. The door to Dr. Minot’s office slowly opens.
I look for a place to hide. Dr. Minot appears. He studies me with his sharp hawk eyes. In a panic, I drop the papers and run from the room, but I don’t know where to go. I freeze in the front hall. I think Dr. Minot shouts after me. If I run up the stairs, I will be trapped.
My head feels light, and I feel myself fall.
When I open my eyes, I am lying on the table in Dr. Minot’s examination room, with a blanket over me. I feel hot and dizzy. I stir and moan. Nora rises from a nearby chair.
I quickly pat my body to make sure I am still dressed. That makes Nora laugh, in a friendly way. She stands up and hands me two written pages. My letter. I’m too nervous to meet her gaze.
Has Andrew returned to the house? Has Dr. Minot shown him what I wrote? What revenge will Andrew seek for the things I said about him?
I turn helplessly to Nora. She points to her eyes and then to the papers. It’s Vineyard sign language for “read.”
I see that the papers in my hands are not written in my scrawl.
I feel stunned. Dr. Minot believes me? And Nora does too?
Hastily, I get my coat. Nora hands me some food to travel with. We stand by the front window and keep watch for the man in the Monmouth cap. I don’t know who is more anxious.
Nora raises her eyebrows and quickly points to a passing sailor. I shake my head. I pace back and forth. Nora wants to practice signing with me. I am agitated, but I indulge her.
She is learning as quickly as a child. She points to the window, the sky, the trees and birds. I make the signs and try to string them together in sentences with the signs she’s already learned. It distracts me until Nora grips my arm. “There! There!” she signs, pointing her index finger.
A man is coming down the street. The snow obscures my view. Please let it be the man with the Monmouth cap.
In horror, I see that it is Andrew.
I run to the front door with Nora on my heels. She unlocks it quickly, and I dash out, without so much as a “thank you.” I run in the opposite direction from Andrew. Panicked, I pray that the man in the Monmouth cap is not far, and that I can find him or another sailor before I am recaptured.
The brick cobblestone streets are icy. I slip a few times in my fancy shoes. A strong wind gusts off the harbor and down the streets. It twirls me around and almost knocks me down. I drop Nora’s food package. My teeth chatter from cold and fear.
I sprint as best I can, panting like a workhorse. When I dare to look back, I catch sight of Andrew coming around a corner. His tall, thin frame is unmistakable. I feel the blood drain from my face. How did he find me? Did he threaten Nora?
I try to remember my way back to the wharf with landmarks, but I’m sure I’m off course. I run through throngs of Bostonians. There is enough bustling activity to shield me. No one seems to notice I’m being hunted.
I stop momentarily to catch my breath. That’s when I feel a strong hand grab the back of my coat. I spin around, fearing I will collapse on the spot. But it isn’t Andrew. It is the man with the Monmouth cap!
He is burly with blond curls. He looks me up and down and nods. I ask him his name. He shakes his head. He doesn’t know sign language. Did he deceive Dr. Minot? Is he working with Andrew?
He grabs hold of my arm and rushes me along. I wrestle with him, and he looks surprised by my resistance. I try to bite his gloved hand, but he does not release me from his grip.
Behind me, I catch sight of Andrew again. His blue eyes seem to burn in their sockets, and his jaw is set. He can’t be more than twenty feet from me.
I look up at the man with the Monmouth cap. He looks at me and follows my terrified stare. The man picks me up, and when I scream, he covers my mouth with his hand. He runs away from Andrew and deposits me on the dock. Again, I try to flee, but he pushes me backward, and I fall hard on my backside into a docked cutter. A grizzled man races toward me. Ezra Brewer! And it is not just any cutter. It is the SS Black Dog!
I collapse into Ezra Brewer’s open arms. His embrace is strong and gentle at the same time. I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder, choking on my own sobs.
He releases me and signs “thank you” to the man, who tips his hat and disappears into the crowd on the wharf. Ezra Brewer jumps up and quickly works the rigging.
“Andrew is here,” I sign.
“Saw him,” he signs matter-of-factly. “We’d better get going.”
While Ezra Brewer prepares the boat, I keep watch in case Andrew attempts to board the Black Dog before we leave Boston Harbor.
As we begin to sail out of the Inner Harbor, Ezra Brewer surveys me. I’ve never seen his dark blue eyes so worried. Do I really look that awful?
“Mary,” he signs, with a twinkle in his eye, “I’m glad to see you, but I can’t say I admire your frills and brass buttons. You’re dressed a mite too fancy for the Dog.”
A waterfall tumbles inside me.
“I can talk in signs with you!”
“I believe that’s what we’re doing,” Ezra Brewer responds.
“I haven’t conversed with anyone in ages,” I tell him.
“It’s about time you did,” he signs.
I look behind us and see the sails flying on the SS Defiance. Andrew must have been aiming to take me to his schooner, not back to Dr. Minot’s. He must have left early to prepare it.
The Black Dog is a midsized cutter. The rig makes the boat faster and easier to maneuver than many larger boats. We stand more than a fair chance against Andrew’s schooner.
Sailing into the Atlantic, the waters are choppy.
“Andrew is following us!” I sign.
“We’ll sail south of Boston and then around Cape Cod,” signs Ezra Brewer. “We’ll stay on the sea to take the harder route.” He winks. My stomach drops. The back Cape can be perilous to navigate, even with a capable captain at the helm. The Mayflower couldn’t pass the Cape to sail on to the Colony of Virginia; they had to land on the tip of Cape Cod.
When we lo
ok back again, we see that Andrew has navigated a course straight toward us. “It will take him time to catch up,” Ezra Brewer assures me. “We won’t sail into swift currents for a while.”
I raise my hands to sign again, but find I have nothing to say. In Boston, I thought if I ever saw anyone from the Vineyard, I would spill out all the details of my kidnapping. Now I can’t bring myself to say them.
Ezra Brewer glances at me, waiting to see what I’ll sign. I want to say something. Anything that’s not about me.
He shakes his head. “A fool I’ve been! You’ll be wanting food and water.” He gives me a hard biscuit to nibble on.
“We are going home now,” I sign.
“Indeed, the whole town has been trying to find you and making prayers for your safety. Your ma and pa were very hard hit.” I notice he keeps one eye on the helm and the other on the schooner following us. His left hand reaches down for a bottle. There isn’t one there, and he scowls.
“I don’t want them to grieve anymore,” I tell him. “We’ve been hurting long enough.”
Ezra Brewer smiles broadly and signs, “You should know that curly headed gal has been sulking and sighing all over the island.”
“Nancy?” I ask. I can’t wait to embrace her again. I’m sure she’s been bored without me. “How is she?”
He signs, “Doesn’t help her father is carrying on about his land rights.”
“Is Mr. Skiffe persisting?” I ask, shaking my head.
Ezra Brewer works his mouth and starts signing again. “You can count on that. He made a mess over a piece of land, just because he wanted it when he has enough. What sort of reason is that? I’ve got all I need with my boat and my cat.”
Ezra Brewer looks at me, to make sure I am paying attention. I am watching him, though I can’t help but glance back to see how close Andrew is. It’s hard to tell if he is gaining on us.
Show Me a Sign Page 11