Adam hesitated before answering. “Ah, no. I put it in my dresser back at the warehouse.”
“I paid good money for that,” she said. “Don’t you be careless and let something happen to it.”
“No, of course not.” He shook his head. “Thanks by the way.”
He soon shifted his conversation to all that had happened earlier in the day.
After Adam had told them about his and Martin’s experience with Mr. Shaw, and all of the talk about the supposed ghost in the graveyard, Mary said, “I don’t think you should be so quick to dismiss the idea of there really being something spiritual happening. I’ve known people who’ve seen ghosts. In fact, my father saw my mother’s once when I was a little girl.”
Adam’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You never told me about that.”
“There wasn’t much to it,” she said. “Apparently, her ghost appeared to him not long after she died. He was very sad in those days. I think she came to comfort him.”
“Pfft!” said Valentine. “Coulda just as easily been the rum that made him think he’d seen a ghost.”
He went back to working on the books, though Adam suspected he was continuing to listen in.
“Bite your tongue!” Mary snapped. “My father always said it was a great comfort when she appeared to him, like she was telling him everything was gonna be alright—that she was in a much better place.”
Adam shook his head, but he knew better than to say anything. He, too, had heard of folks who had said they’d seen ghosts, and when he was a young boy he thought they were real. There were always stories of one place or another being haunted, and without fail whenever you’d go to those places—usually on some other boy’s dare—strange things would happen. As Adam got older, though, he became more dismissive and skeptical of things like that.
“What are you getting at, Mama?”
“All I’m saying is you ought not be so quick to dismiss the possibility that there might be something to Madame Endora’s warnings. I reckon when you get back to the warehouse tonight and you have time to just rest your mind and think about it, you might well realize that everything she said is coming true.” She raised an eyebrow and whispered, “Even with Rogers’s Shipping Company—that recent shipment.”
It took a second for Adam to consider what she had just said. “What are you talking about?”
She tipped her head and clicked her tongue in her cheek. “I heard about the crew being so sick when they got back and the damaged cargo.”
“Who’d you hear that from?”
Just then a tavern patron—a middle-aged, leathery-skinned fisherman—called from across the dining area, “Oy! Mary! Come over ’ere for a minute, love.”
Mary leaned over and patted her son on the shoulder, then said with a wink before going over to the customer, “Oh, the word’s starting to get around about that. I overheard some folks talking about it earlier today—said they don’t want anything y’all are bringing into the port.”
As soon as she’d left the bar, Adam quickly finished the rest of his supper, then left the tavern. He needed to tell his grandfather what he had just learned.
Chapter Ten
WHEN ADAM GOT BACK TO the warehouse, he was frustrated to find that his grandfather had gone to bed early. Usually, Boaz was the one who went to bed right after the sun went down, while Emmanuel tended to sit up late to read.
No matter, he thought. He would just have to let Boaz know what he had heard from his mother.
Boaz was sitting up, working again on his world map puzzle.
“You’re up late,” Adam observed.
“Can’t sleep,” said Boaz. “Don’t know why. Hadn’t slept all that good the past couple of nights.”
Adam walked across the sitting room and took a seat at the square table where Boaz sat. “Really? I haven’t heard you up.”
“Just been dreamin a whole lot.” His face was twisted up in concentration as he studied over the puzzle pieces spread out before him. “You’re back earlier than usual from the tavern.”
Adam nodded. “I found something out. I wanted to tell Emmanuel, but he’s already asleep.”
“Yeah,” said Boaz as he used his stubby, calloused index finger to search for a particular piece. “He went to bed about an hour ago; otherwise, I’d say you might go on in and talk to him.”
“I’ll just tell him tomorrow—he’ll find out sooner or later anyway.” Adam blew out his cheeks in frustration.
“Find out what?”
“Word’s out that the crew came back sick and that the shipment was damaged.”
Boaz looked up from the puzzle. “That’s not good.”
“No, it’s not. It’s very bad. Mama overheard some folks in the tavern today say they didn’t want anything we’re bringing into the port.”
Boaz leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I wonder which idiot couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”
“No telling. It could really be anybody, though. Wives, girlfriends, even Martin or Jones when they’re drunk.”
“Good Lord. I reckon it’s a good thing Simon Moore and Everett Bell hadn’t heard about it when y’all made those deliveries this afternoon. Otherwise, they’d have likely refused the shipments.”
“Who knows?” Adam shrugged. “They’ve got shops. They need new merchandise to sell. None of what we delivered to them was damaged.”
“That may be true, but you know how people can be.”
“You know there are going to be folks who are going to try to tie this into that gypsy woman’s curse, right?”
“Probably,” Boaz agreed.
At that Adam decided to turn in for the night.
He went back to his bedroom and lit the lantern on his dresser, then sat on the edge of his bed. He hadn’t realized how sore he was until he sunk deep into the lumpy mattress. He reached both hands high above his head to stretch, leaning from side to side. He cracked his neck, then stretched his shoulders by grabbing each elbow and pulling his biceps across his chest, each in turn. He’d been going nonstop almost all week, and it seemed like each day brought a new stressful thing into view.
He pulled off his boots one at a time and put them under his bed and stripped down to his drawers. He tossed his dirty socks in the corner of his room, where they would remain until he washed them, along with his other dirty clothes, on Saturday. He draped his breeches over the back of a chair and hung his shirt and waistcoat on hangers.
After he pulled out the top drawer of his dresser and took out his journal and pencil, he climbed on his bed and sat with his back against the wall. He was grateful for the breeze that was blowing in through the window. He opened the leather-bound book back up to the page where he had recorded notes about his visit with Madame Endora and reviewed what he had written there. He thought about what his mother had said back at the tavern, and he considered what might happen if others in town thought like she did and assumed the gypsy’s curse might really be at work.
He decided it might be a good idea to write down what had happened since that day.
Sunday - The Gypsy arrives with sick crew, filthy, some cargo spoiled by mice.
Monday and Tuesday - Sorted through cargo. Prepared deliveries for customers. Destroyed spoiled and ruined items by burning.
Wednesday - Started working on casks for M. Blount; Some men were talking about seeing ghost of a girl in graveyard - grown men!
Thursday - Delivered merchandise to S. Moore, E. Bell. Visited Craven Street, talked to Mr. Shaw. He believes girl climbed up out of grave. Said gypsy woman told of treasure north of town, gave spell to charm it out. Midgette boys say ghost was a boy. Old woman with bad vision said she only got glimpse of ghost.
He looked again at the picture he had sketched of Madame Endora and her crystal ball and contemplated her warnings, but just then something appeared to dart across his room. He only saw it for a split second, from the corner of his eye. He closed
his journal, then climbed out of his bed. He walked across his small room but couldn’t see anything along the floor or wall where he had just seen movement.
He took his lantern from his dresser and waved it along that far wall, which was only about ten feet away from his bed but still cloaked in shadow, and suddenly something flew up from the corner and across the room, then out the window. Adam rushed across the room just in time to see the silhouette of a bird flapping its wings in a somewhat lopsided fashion away from the warehouse. Apparently, it had been an injured bird that had come into his window earlier in the day but was now well enough—or frightened enough—to fly out. It looked like it had been resting on the pile of clothes on his floor.
He remembered a saying he had once heard about a bird in a house signaling death. Adam thought for a brief second about closing his window but knew his room would get too hot at night if it wasn’t opened. This is ridiculous, he thought, picking up the journal and pencil and quickly putting them back into his dresser drawer.
He climbed back into bed, put out his candle, and went to sleep.
During the night Adam dreamed…
He was kneeling on his bed in front of the window in his room, and he looked out over Taylor Creek. The moon was full and shone on the water. Suddenly, he was being pulled out of the window and was flying. He wasn’t dressed—still just in his drawers—so he worried people would see him. He tried to control where he was flying, but he couldn’t. Some unknown force was pulling him across the night sky towards the full moon.
Just when he thought he would crash into the moon, he was thrown back in the opposite direction, and then westward along Taylor Creek. Soon he was flying around the western end of Beaufort towards Town Creek.
He saw a light shining down on the creek that looked like a star. He looked up in the sky to see if the star he saw in the creek was a reflection, but it was not. Then the star appeared to slide out of the water and stood on the creek bank. It seemed to be drawing Adam towards it.
He drifted slowly, slowly, slowly down, until he was almost touching the earth. He was held suspended in air about a foot or so off the ground. He could see the star more clearly now. The light began to darken from the inside out, but a glisten remained. It took the shape of a person and a beast, then, as it became more clear, a woman and a horse.
The woman wore a pale-colored dress that glowed in the moonlight. Her hair was black and it tumbled down over her shoulders in waves and curls. The horse was black as well. When she leaned forward to give the horse a kiss on its forehead, he couldn’t tell where her cascading curls ended and the horse’s mane began. She seemed to disappear into the horse’s eye. The horse then galloped away, but in the air, across the creek. Adam couldn’t help but follow it. He was flying again, but this time much faster. He couldn’t fly as fast as the horse, though.
Soon he had flown past Carrot Island and was flying over the ocean. There was a ship in the sky. He feared the ship and did not want to get closer, but he could not resist the pull. As he drew nearer, he recognized the vessel. He had seen it before. It was La Dama del Caribe, his father’s ship. As he neared the bow, he could see his father standing on deck, spyglass in hand, viewing the horizon. He called out to him, but his father didn’t hear him. Then with no logical transition, he dreamed he was back in the warehouse, crafting barrels. His body felt extremely heavy and he had a hard time getting his arms and legs to move, but he was going through the motions of shaping staves.
After that he found himself in what appeared to be a ballroom. Everyone was in fancy dress, but he was still only in his drawers. He was overwhelmed with embarrassment to be there, so he was grateful that no one seemed to notice him.
He saw someone he recognized—the intricately styled honey-blond hair gave her away. It was Laney Martin. Her hair was exactly the way it was on the day they first met. She was dancing with someone. Who was it? He had to know. He tried so hard to move forward so he could see, but he was neither flying nor walking and couldn’t move voluntarily. Then he began to drift across the room, but it was not as if his body went with him, only his sight. He went in a circle around the room, looking in. He was soon able to see her partner. It was Richard Rasquelle, but now someone was cutting in. Who was it? Adam pushed with all of his might to try and move forward, but he could not. Then he was finally able to see—it was Francis Smythe. He tried to move his body, to force himself down to the floor so he could find out what was happening and why she was dancing with those men, but it was no use.
Suddenly, Laney looked up at him from the dance floor. Although no one else in the ballroom had been able to notice him, somehow she was seeing him. He was mortified, as he was wearing no proper clothes. Then just as quickly as the dream began, he now found himself back in his bed, drenched in sweat, heart racing. He bolted upright and looked out the window. The moon wasn’t visible from his room at this hour.
Thank God, he thought. It was all just a dream.
FIRST THING FRIDAY MORNING, ADAM was still thinking about all that had transpired the day before, and the bird that flew out of his room. And overwhelmingly, he thought about his dream.
When Boaz went down to the warehouse to begin work, Adam stayed behind, as he did every day for the last few weeks, to wash the dishes. He thought it might finally be time to bring up his concerns to his grandfather—except his dream, which he decided he’d keep to himself.
“You ever heard the saying that when a bird flies into a house, it signals death?” he asked Emmanuel while scrubbing a dish.
“Yes, I’ve heard that,” his grandfather said. “Have you heard the one about if a black cat sits on someone’s bed, it foretells their death? Or how about this one: ‘For if in your house a man shoulders a spade; for you and your kinsfolk a grave is half made’?” The old man stifled a grin.
“You’re mocking me,” said Adam.
“I am not. I’m just having a bit of fun, that’s all,” said Emmanuel. “Why do you ask? Has there been a bird in the house? Good heavens, if there has been, I hope it’s not left any droppings!”
“One flew out of my room last night.”
“Well, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. You wouldn’t want her making her nest in there, now would you?”
“That’s true.”
As he continued washing dishes, he said, “Have you heard? Word’s gotten out about the Gypsy’s crew and the damaged cargo.”
Emmanuel gave a nod. “I know. Boaz told me this morning before you got up.”
“That can affect our business.”
He thought about whether or not to mention his concerns about what might happen if people start linking the strange things that had been going on lately to the gypsy’s curse. Turned out he didn’t have to.
“Boaz mentioned that people are also talking about that gypsy woman—Madame Endora. I hear she has been warning folks about some curse and is peddling good luck charms to ward off danger. You heard anything about that, son?”
Adam shrugged. “I’ve heard a little about it. I know my mama went to see that gypsy woman.”
Emmanuel raised his eyebrows. “Is that right? My goodness, I’d have hoped she might know better.”
There was no way Adam was going to tell his grandfather that Mary had gone so far as to buy a protection spell and an amulet for her son.
“Do you think women like Madame Endora have any special powers?” Adam asked as he dried a plate and put it on the shelf.
“Interesting question,” Emmanuel responded. “In and of herself, no. Her powers lie primarily in tapping into the fears and hopes that are common to man.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“But,” said Emmanuel, raising his index finger before he continued, “it’s not impossible that a person such as herself might be a medium, and so she might be dabbling in powers that go beyond the earthly realm.”
“You mean like she may be in league with the devil,” said Adam. “Right?
”
Emmanuel tipped his head from side to side, seemingly reluctant to agree with that exact statement. “Maybe not Old Scratch himself,” he said, “but it would certainly not be surprising if she sought to communicate with some sorts of spirit beings— and of course we could assume that any such spirits that would assist the fortune-teller’s trade would be on the side of darkness.”
“Demons,” said Adam.
“Yes, demons.”
“I’m sure you’ve already thought about this,” said Emmanuel, “but it’s quite a fascinating coincidence that our local gypsy fortune-teller calls herself Madame Endora.”
“How do you mean?”
“Where did Saul find the witch whom he consulted to call up Samuel’s ghost?”
Adam thought about it. “I can’t remember. Where?”
“En-dor.”
At that, Emmanuel stood from his chair and started to walk back into the sitting room. Just before he got too far away, though, he turned back and said to Adam, who was still seated at the table, studying the pages in his journal, “You still have other chores to do, son. You best hurry up with those dishes; otherwise, I predict your leisure time will be in grave danger.”
Chapter Eleven
LATE FRIDAY AFTERNOON, ADAM HAD to return to Moore’s Mercantile to deliver some items that had inadvertently gone with Martin to Everett Bell’s shop. When he got there, he was surprised to find a note on the door that said, “Closed except by appointment. If you require assistance, please visit Moore residence.”
Wonder what that’s about, thought Adam. He went next door and pulled the string for the bell. Letitia Moore, Simon’s wife, answered.
Mrs. Moore was a no-nonsense woman around the same age as Adam’s mother. She had a plump but pretty face and a compact, sturdy frame. Her curly hair was a sandy blond, like her husband’s, but her eyes were hazel, while Simon’s were bright blue.
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