The Old Cape House

by Barbara Eppich Struna

  “Excuse me,” he said. Extending his hand out, he introduced himself, “I’m Andrew McNutt, a reporter for the Cape Cod Gazette. My editor would be very interested in what you’ve been discussing. Legends around the Cape are always newsworthy.”

  Hallett and Salinger exchanged quick glances.

  McNutt asked, “Do you think I could interview you for a story?”

  Salinger looked at the reporter. “Sure, I’ll talk to you, but you’d have to get permission from the property owners before you print anything.”

  Hallett looked worried. He’d had bad experiences with neighborhood newspapers. A while back, a reporter had written a human-interest story about the local characters and had poked fun of him and his lineage.

  Salinger continued, “I guess a little publicity would boost my reputation, but as I said, the Caldwells would have to approve any news articles.”

  McNutt thanked him and followed them to the Caldwell house. Neil Hallett did not look happy.

  ***

  Three vehicles pulled into our driveway. “He’s here,” I yelled out to Paul. “Remember, we’re not going to say anything about the coin. Let’s research the law regarding found treasure on private property first.”

  “Okay,” he agreed.

  “Who’s in the other cars?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  We walked out back, and Sallinger introduced us to his friend Hallett, and a reporter from the local newspaper. Salinger explained the results and quietly added, “Do you know about the legend of the pirate Sam Bellamy?”

  I glanced at Paul. “Wasn’t he the pirate captain of the Whydah?”

  The archaeologist grinned. “Yes, that’s him. The Provincetown museum at the end of Macmillan Wharf is all about Sam Bellamy and his ship. It features an incredible exhibit of the pirate booty he’d stolen to bring home to a girl named Maria ‘Goody’ Hallett.”

  My hands started to perspire, and my heart beat faster as thoughts of gold coins, treasure and everything pirate tumbled into my head. Suddenly I connected the letters on the vellum to Maria Hallett and Sam Bellamy. Everyone’s voices distorted into mumblings as the men talked to Paul about the parchment and the skull. I was concentrating so much on my own thoughts that I could barely hear their conversation.

  “Nancy,” Paul looked at me.

  I was standing still as a statue, peering downward into the cellar.

  “Nancy, are you okay?”

  “Huh? I’m sorry. I was just wondering about something.” I shook my head, trying to come up with a nonchalant way to ask Sallinger about the laws regarding found treasure on someone’s property.

  As if hearing my thoughts, he also peered into the cellar. “Whatever you find down there belongs to you as the rightful owners of the land.”

  Hallett walked closer to the edge of the root cellar. “Yup, that’s a real old Cape Cod root cellar. Small, round and built out of big stones. Do you mind if I go down and look around?”

  Paul nodded.

  “Go ahead,” I agreed.

  Hallett climbed down into the cellar. Paul and I watched him sift through the dirt with his fingers. He examined the iron bars of the wooden box that were still suspended in thin air and picked up a few pieces of the decayed wood.

  I approached Salinger. “I wasn’t sure about showing you this,” I held the coin out in the palm of my hand. “I found it in the cellar.”

  His eyes widened as he reached for it.

  Hallett yelled out from below, “Well, I’ll be darned. Look what I found!”

  Together we turned to see him holding up another dirty gold coin.

  “Whoa, you’re kidding!” Paul strode toward him.

  “Look!” Hallett held it higher in the air.

  Finding the second coin made me giddy with excitement–I could see the same expression on Paul’s face. The thought of real treasure buried on our land made me anxious for everyone to leave so we could keep digging.

  The reporter began to scribble in his notebook. “How did you come upon the cellar?”

  I ignored his question and joined Paul at the edge of the hole.

  Hallett crouched down to dig with his hands while Salinger just stared into the bottom of the cellar.

  Using his most polite voice, Paul asked, “Would you please come out of there, Mr. Hallett?”

  Hallett ignored Paul’s request and dug even deeper.

  Paul yelled at him. “Mr. Hallett!!”

  This time Hallett stopped digging and reluctantly climbed out of the hole.

  “I’m sure you can understand the private nature of this whole situation,” Paul explained. “If word gets out there might be buried pirate treasure on our property, no matter how small it is, we’re going to be in for some rough days ahead.” He looked directly at the reporter. “Mr. McNutt, your article could make my land and home a dangerous place for my family. Every weirdo will want to come here and dig for treasure, even if it is private property.”

  My excitement now turned to concern.

  Sallinger also looked distressed.

  McNutt was not convinced by Paul’s request for confidentiality. “This is a real scoop for me; I have to write the story. I promise not to reveal the exact location, or print your names, but I have a professional duty to share this with my readers.”

  I wondered why Salinger had to invite this reporter to join him? We don’t need any other problems.

  “Okay, just a small piece–nothing sensational,” Paul replied. “But if you mention our names or this address, I’ll sue you and your newspaper.”

  “Thank you! Your privacy will be protected,” said the young reporter. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  ***

  McNutt said his hasty goodbyes and left. As he drove away, he felt elated. The paper was struggling to survive the online competition, and the publisher was trimming their budget with a cleaver. This story might guarantee he’d not be one of the reporters on the chopping block. Folklore, treasure and mystery would surely entice readers to buy the newspaper. He raced back to his office to share the good news with his editor. His job would be to keep this story going for as long as possible.

  ***

  Everyone stood around the opening of the cellar for several minutes before Sallinger broke the awkward silence. “Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell, it has been interesting working with you.” He sealed the skull fragment in a small plastic bag. “I trust that, if you find any more human remains, you’ll notify me immediately?”

  “Of course we will,” I said.

  “These vellum pieces are yours to keep, Mrs. Caldwell, along with the coins. Good luck.”

  Paul extended his hand to Salinger, “It was nice meeting you.” He turned to Hallett. “Now if you don’t mind, could I please have the coin?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Hallett handed the coin to Paul.

  I noticed it had already found its way into Neil Hallett’s pocket. I decided I’d think twice about alerting them to more discoveries in the cellar.

  ***

  At the end of the Caldwell’s driveway Hallett paused and wound down the window of his truck. “Hey, Salinger, I have a gut feeling there’s more to this story.”

  Salinger leaned through his opened window. “Go on.”

  “I just feel there’s a real connection here–the Bellamy/Hallett legend has so many twists and turns–and by God, one of those stories about buried treasure has got to be true.”

  Salinger laughed. “You be careful.”

  Hallett turned his truck left. “Oh, I will. See you around.”

  Salinger drove off in the opposite direction.

  ***

  By the time the men left it was almost high noon. I felt queasy again. “Paul, I don’t feel well,” I said, holding my stomach as I turned to go into the house.

  He followed, cradling the second coin in his hand. When he found me in the bathroom, I was throwing up. He put the coin into his pocket and asked, “Honey, is everything all right?”r />
  I grabbed a tissue and wiped my lips. “I think I’m fine.”

  “Maybe you should go to the doctor?” He held me in his arms and rubbed my back.

  “I guess so.” I snuggled into his shoulder. “Paul, what if I’m pregnant?”

  “What?” He drew back, surprised at my comment.

  I looked straight into his eyes and repeated. “What if I’m pregnant?”

  “How could you be? When was your last period?”

  “I lost track of the days with all the excitement about the hurricane and buried treasure. I think I might be late.” A few tears ran down my cheeks.

  Paul gently wiped them away. “Don’t worry. Sit down for a minute. Let me make you some tea.”

  I felt vulnerable and did as I was told. At the table, I rubbed my forehead. “We can’t afford another kid, we have no extra money! Besides, forty is too old to have a baby.”

  “It’ll be fine.” He filled the teakettle with water.

  “Paul, I’m serious. All kinds of birth defects can happen to a baby born to a woman my age.”

  I tried to distract myself and took the first coin out of my jeans pocket and ran my fingers across its shiny face. It didn’t work; my head switched gears, and I wondered out loud, “If I’m pregnant and I choose to have this baby, what’s going to happen in twenty years or so, if there’s something wrong with it? I don’t want any of my children to be institutionalized because no one will be around to manage their care.”

  The teakettle whistled. “Let’s stop talking about it. We don’t even know if you’re pregnant yet.”

  I held my mug of cinnamon tea and stared at the gold coin on the kitchen table.

  “Feeling better?”

  “A little. It’s hard to explain how I feel.” Unconsciously, I traced the edges of the coin around and around. “Are you going back out to the cellar?”

  “I thought I would. Come with me. I’ll bring you a chair so you can sit down if you need to.” He smiled and kissed me. “Let’s go and find some pirate treasure.”

  ***

  Brian arrived home early from work. He came around to the back garden. “Need help?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Get the wheelbarrow and another shovel.” Paul’s idea of a chair was a good one. I was tired. I watched them dig deeper into the cellar’s floor. I enjoyed seeing my once sad boy join his father in an adventure. He looked happy again.

  They separated the two metal bars from the rotted chest. Brian handed them over to me. “This is so cool, Mom.”

  Another thirty minutes passed before Brian stopped his digging and shouted, “Mom, Dad, I think I found something!” His hand held a third coin. A big grin spread across his face.

  I got up to get a better look. “It’s looks like the one I found yesterday.” I fumbled in my pocket, eager to show Brian my coin.

  Paul chimed in, “Here’s the other one Hallett found today.”

  “You already dug up two gold coins? Holy shit, Mom! Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Watch your language, young man,” his father cautioned him.

  “Sorry. When you said you found a chest at the bottom of this cellar, we thought you guys were just fooling around. But man, this is awesome. What else is down here?”

  “We’re not sure, Brian. We do know that the coins probably have something to do with whatever is written on these old pieces of paper here.” I handed him the plastic baggy.

  Brian examined the vellum. “What do the letters mean?”

  Paul continued to dig. “That’s what we’re hoping to find out.”

  32

  November 6, 1715

  CAPE COD

  ABIGAIL DOANE’S FACE PALED as she boarded the Osprey packet boat in the early morning hours of Wednesday, the same day Hestor made her gruesome discovery. Whenever she sailed, Abigail’s comfort gave way to seasickness, forcing her to stay topside. There were few people on deck, so there was to be no talking, which suited Abigail.

  As the waves assaulted her fragile stomach, a cold wind blew its sting across her cheeks. Not one for the outdoors, she carefully stepped her stout frame across the deck as they sailed from the town of Barnstable to Ellis Landing. She felt confident that she’d survive her journey and set her eyes on the horizon to steady herself. Nathanial had insisted he would be fine after taking ill during his recent voyage as captain of his ship the Voyager. Abigail knew he was feeling guilty for abandoning his duties and agreed that he should stay behind a few more days to check on his cargo. With the knowledge that he remained in capable hands, recuperating at the Hicks’ home in Barnstable, Abigail had left early so she could return to North Harwich to be with Maria.

  She took a solid grip on the railing by the cargo hold and focused her thoughts on the young unmarried girl that she had taken under her wing. With a deep breath of ocean air, Abigail stood her ground and worried about Maria. She wanted to contact Minda, who was needed now as Maria might be beginning her travail, or God forbid, had already begun it.

  As the packet drew closer to the landing, she saw her neighbor George Eldridge waiting to pick up supplies from the hold of the Osprey. She waved, trying to get his attention, in hopes that she could enlist him to take her home in his cart. It was far too cold to walk. “George! Can you spare a ride for your neighbor?”

  Seeing Abigail he said, “Of course. You shall have to wait while I load my supplies.”

  With relief, she pulled her hat closer to her face as she waited for the boat to finish docking.

  George packed the last bundle into the back of his cart. “How does Nathanial fare?”

  “Just fine, just fine,” Abigail answered, climbing onto the seat next to him.

  “That’s good to hear; he’s a fine man. Things have been quiet here except for the terrible storm that we had a few days past. Why, we had rain, sleet and such strong winds.”

  Abigail squeezed her hands together on her lap and wondered how Maria had fared in the storm. As the cart rumbled closer to her house, she spotted several men standing outside, near the open main door. She saw no smoke coming from atop her roof.

  George also saw the men. “I wonder what’s going on? I recognize that man; he’s employed by the Constable.”

  Abigail rose from her seat for a better view, startling George.

  “Whoahhh!” he called out.

  She fell backward onto the bench as he pulled the horse to a complete stop.

  “Abigail, are you alright?” he asked, worried that she might have hurt herself.

  “I’m fine. I need to see what is happening at my house.”

  Not waiting for assistance, she quickly grabbed her travel bag and scrambled out of the wagon. Thanking her neighbor, she hurried past two somber men standing by her fence and made her way into the house.

  Constable Ezra was near the hearth. Between anxious breaths, she implored him, “Ezra...please...explain.”

  She dropped her bag just inside the door and sat down at the sideboard, all the while patting her racing heart. Her eyes glanced down to the sandy floor and to the dark drops that stained its rough surface. She looked up, her head spinning with questions. Where was Maria? Why was the constable standing in her kitchen? Where IS Maria? Her hands trembled.

  Ezra faced her and was about to speak when the door of the borning room slowly opened. The local midwife, Mehitable Cole, stepped out and closed the door behind her. She acknowledged Abigail’s presence with only a nod of her head, then walked directly to the constable. The two spoke in hushed tones.

  Impatient, Abigail buoyed herself with a new strength and voiced her feelings aloud. “This is my house and I intend to hear your words. Mehitable, please speak to the both of us. Where is the young girl, Maria?”

  She needed Minda.

  The midwife looked at Ezra for approval to speak. He nodded his head yes.

  Abigail was furious as she stared at the woman. Of all the nerve…I want answers, she thought.

  Mehitable shared her interpretation
. “The girl is alive, but her heart is weak. She’s been delivered of a child for there’s proof of afterbirth. We found her in the borning room but the child is missing. When asked questions, she is mute, as if possessed.”

  “How long will she be in this state?” Ezra asked.

  “One cannot tell,” the midwife shook her head with concern. Mehitable directed her next words to Abigail in a show of respect between women. “Her bleeding has stopped but she’s very ill. When her trauma is over we must help her regain strength. Then we’ll find the truth.”

  Abigail sat listening but remained puzzled. Where was the infant?

  Ezra thanked the midwife for examining the girl, paid her a small fee and dismissed her.

  He then asked Abigail, “Will you be able to nurse the girl back to health so that she can be questioned?”

  Abigail looked dazed.

  “Abigail?”

  She glanced up at Ezra. “It all seems peculiar to me. I’m not sure of anything right now. But I’ll try my best to do as you ask.”

  “Thank you. I will be speaking to the Reverend and the church elders concerning this grave situation. There are many unanswered questions and some that seem to be criminal in nature. I do not think I need to elaborate with you the seriousness of this matter.” When he reached the open door, he turned around. “Mind you, there’s something very odd here, I feel I need to warn you that evil may have infiltrated our community and your home.”

  “Thank you, Ezra. No need to concern yourself about me.” Abigail waved him away.

  She closed the door and waited for the men to leave her property. Her hand shook as she held onto the latch of the borning room door hesitating for several seconds before opening it. She was afraid, but she knew she would be able to do as asked. Maria needed her. Still lightheaded from the boat, Abigail managed to find another deep breath and entered the room.

  Two Days Later

  The wind seemed to clear Nathaniel Doane’s head as he inhaled the fresh salty air. He stood upright, his feet planted strong on the deck, the sense of ‘Captain’ emanating from his presence.