“You thankless bastard!” shouted an enraged Simon. “There will be no freeloaders on this journey! Didn’t you remember what I told you before? Out here each man is for themselves!”
Looking around to see if there were any witnesses, Simon now set about his next course of action. First, he found soft earth in the dunes, where he dug deep enough to place and cover Gerald’s corpse. Then he unloaded the chest which contained bank notes, bank drafts and various valuables, including gold and silver coins.
As a last step, Simon needed to locate a spare rope to drag the boat out of view. While looking through their remaining tools under the farthest section of tarp, he made a most unexpected find.
“Well I’ll be damned!” he spoke out to the sky. “Is this some kind of bizarre punishment for what I did to Gerald? Oh Lord, he had it coming you know! Now what the hell am I gonna do with a nigra baby? Is it even alive?”
Immediately his question was answered by a slight turn of its little body. But Simon knew the babe was in rough shape. Fishing about in their supplies, he found only two biscuits left.
“If this is a sign to make some repentance, I will make sure this child does not starve before my eyes.” Waking the babe, he fed it the biscuits in small pieces. Reaching to his water canister, he carefully gave the child desperately needed liquid as well.
“I will not be party to the death of any child, even a nigra one!” he spoke once again to the clouds above. “But that’s all I can do. I can’t drag a baby around with me; there’s no use in that! It would be too much trouble.”
Simon took the basket which held the child out of the boat, bringing it to higher ground on shore. He wrapped the child as best he could before returning to the craft. Upon hiding the safety boat from view, he visited the babe one last time.
“Understand child, I have nothing against you,” he spoke at the basket. “But there’s no reward for carrying about a Colored child. You’ll slow me down, attract attention and hell knows what else! If there’s truly a God in heaven, may there be a way you make it through. Otherwise, I’m sure there’s a place in heaven for your soul.”
With that, Simon set off with his treasure to points unknown. He figured to find some signs of life, since this did not appear a tiny area. And he had plenty of resources to see him through most situations.
So off he went to begin life anew. Ironically, the sole adult survivor of Isabella, a treacherous thief, would be the only one to benefit from Preacher Simmons’s promise of a bountiful new beginning.
On this desolate shore remained the most vulnerable of Isabella’s passengers. During the gale’s onslaught, Cody screamed in sheer terror for his mother, though was drowned out by surrounding chaos. Then, exhausted without nourishment, his drained body could do no more. And there he lay, clinging to life until being spotted by Simon. Unfortunately, Cody’s valiant efforts to stay alive appeared at an end.
*****
Just over a haunting grey horizon came a longtime resident on one of her frequent morning walks. Mary found brisk salt ocean air helped her mind overcome the numbing effects of a hardscrabble existence. This tonic was a rare treat in a land which yielded faint bounty in stingy portions.
Cresting over the last rise, she stood and surveyed the stark beauty of shoreline ahead. As was her custom, Mary imagined what lay beyond the infinite expanse of deep water which dominated the horizon. No sooner did her brain begin to whirl when it came to a complete stop. The familiar landscape had gained a new item of interest.
Her attention was immediately captured. Slowly Mary came down the ocean side of rise to approach the object of her interest. On first glance it appeared empty and forlorn. Yet as curiosity gained the better part of her, she ventured nearer.
Drawing closer, she could make out the edges of what appeared to be a large basket. In the surreal suspense of that moment, Mary’s heart pounded ever harder, realizing this basket was not empty.
Never before had this turbulent sea yielded a stranger harvest. Mary could scarcely believe her incredulous eyes as a wooden manger rested on barren shore. A shock of sheer anxiety entered the swell of her throat; her eyes resting on a life form totally unexpected. Mary’s gaze beheld a babe in the resting confines of an abandoned basket.
Yielding to natural instinct, Mary learned towards the abandoned child. She immediately checked to see if the babe was alive. Miraculously, his gentle body was asleep in his crude manger, which made Mary much relieved.
“Who are you precious child?” she asked herself amidst whipping air. “From whom and where did you come from?” She scanned the desolate landscape for sight or sound of any person. Her efforts were in vain, as the whining wind was her only companion.
Mary soon came to realize the magnitude of her situation. Here was an abandoned child who would surely perish if left alone on the damp shoreline.
“You’re a poor child indeed,” said Mary to the babe. “There’s no one to care for you now. But I will not leave you here!
“If anyone ever comes for you, our house is one of a few in the area. I could never have you abandoned twice in a lifetime.” Gently she stooped low and cradled the child ever so gently. Then she wrapped this babe in her shawl for the journey home.
Many thoughts paraded amongst the confused notions within Mary’s conscious. Clearly there was no other option? Yet while numerous questions rumbled within her mind, Mary’s sheltering clutch grew ever tighter.
Subconscious actions mirrored her growing acceptance of this heretofore unimagined role. As the steady whip of wind stirred stark emptiness in the barrens, she steeled her resolve with each careful step home. This fruit, this child of mystery, would become her overarching devotion. That was the only way she knew to acknowledge her newfound blessing.
Mary eventually reached her destination. The family’s proud though modest abode had stood in solitary defiance to wind and weather for generations. Extreme natural elements colored its rocks to resemble the landscape itself.
Rooted more in testament to survival than anything else, their home symbolized the endurance of a people with limited means. As a consequence, this spare existence hardened strong character. They overcame the unforgiving beauty of their surroundings to make a beloved home.
Mary opened the heavy wooden door like so many times before, yet it was anything but a routine homecoming. For that singular moment on the shoreline outside Kilmarnie had changed her circumstances in an instant. The first trial in her new role would be her father’s reaction.
Mary came through and found him standing near the stone hearth. He had his back to her as he peered outside into a wispy afternoon still.
“Hello father,” she said tentatively. “I have something to tell you about. Please sit down.”
Her father strode towards a sturdy old chair in the corner as his daughter asked. Upon taking his seat, he took first notice of Mary. Looking further, a faint gasp escaped his lips when he took sight of the babe in her arms.
“Mary my dear, what’s this all about?” he asked in bewilderment.
Mary gathered another chair and sat by her father. The child was nestled close to her body as she replied.
“This has come as a great shock to me as well father. It all started when I went down to the water for my regular walk you see. As I went down a ridge towards the sea, I noticed something odd on the shoreline. I came closer and realized it was a large basket. And when I was over it I almost jumped out of my skin! Inside of it was him.”
Mary’s father was somewhat relieved at the plausibility of her explanation. Yet it was obvious he still harbored grave reservations.
“That’s all well and good child but where are his parents? How do you know someone is not looking for him right now? And how will they find him if they are?”
“I waited and looked about for anyone near. We were alone father. I soon realized the babe was abandoned.
If not, their search would be a short one, considering the amount of homes in this area.”
Her reply made sense to him. “I understand Mary. So where does that leave us now?”
Mary drew a long pause. Looking directly into her father’s eyes, she spoke with the conviction of one whose mind was already made up.
“I thought about all that. There’s no way I would let this innocent perish on a barren beach! If I knew the chance of someone coming to retrieve him was next to nothing, wouldn’t I be party to his death?
“That’s the thing about this dad. I had no choice; no choice that my decent conscious could harbor! So I brought him to the only place I could. That is, if you see it that way as well.”
He leaned back in his chair and took sight of Mary and the child, pondering the situation with deep deliberation. After a few moments Mary’s father offered one simple question.
“Dearest, what is it you think we should do?”
Mary searched for an answer from deep within. Though her mind and heart were set from the moment she found this child alone. Finally she let her feelings flow forth.
“Father, we’ve been a people ruled by another for ages. We live in a land so green of plenty, though plenty none for us. We feel so helpless because our eager hand cannot be given the chance to show an equal heart. So we leave for distant shores or live to an early grave upon this tired ground.
“When I found this babe it was almost like a reckoning. Here was one less fortunate, and I had a chance to give something precious to him. And think of the irony in these times; one coming here instead of going away to better their lot! He will be my Moses, my one and dearest dark Moses.
“If ever there were a sign the Lord shone favor on our dreary lives, let it be with this babe. Can we turn our backs on His grace? Let the one decent thing this land has given us be some solace. I ask, no I beg you father. Can we raise him here as our own?”
Searching eyes transfixed upon the pleading gaze of his only daughter. Eamon was not one to be quick with his words. So when he spoke, it was with a character similar to the steady shoreline on which he was raised. Here was a solid man, whose decent counsel made the Harvey’s lifestyle sustainable in a hardscrabble land.
One simple rule which guided his existence was the application of honest diligence to any situation. In his view, the chief enemies of mankind were hypocrisy and a cold soul. Eamon Harvey may be an aged salt, though the kind that could always be relied upon to provide good counsel.
“Dearest,” Eamon began in measured cadence. “Our family traces their fate in Kilmarnie well before this age of things gone wrong. And through it all our homestead remains in strong testament to our labor.
“I cannot claim to have done everything that is right by my family or the Lord. Regardless, I’ve tried to be a just man, and live my days as such. One of my principles is to treat others as you would like to be in kind. Ah, you hear others say the same, yet they pay it no credence in their actions!”
Pausing to reflect further, Eamon continued. “Your mother, bless her gentle soul, and I have tried all our days to keep a few simple rules as daily guidance. With this mind, these hands and this heart I welcome the chance to give this child an opportunity to make his way. I would be a hard man indeed to do anything less. That much I promise you Mary.”
Mary’s eyes’ twinkled with the brilliance of heartfelt relief. Her pride in Eamon Harvey rose to a level heretofore unfelt. She always held him in a dear light, but in this moment her love was truly boundless.
She burst forward to embrace Eamon with the warmest of hugs. Then Mary gently planted a firm kiss on his weathered cheek as a slight tear tumbled from her glad eyes.
“I thank you father with all that I am! Where once there were two, now we are three.”
“I’m happy for you Mary. I meant to say happy for us! Though as you well know this is no small matter. As of today everything changes in our lives. From sunrise to sunset our whole routine will have to adapt to take care of this child.”
“I know that. But we have it well within us to do this. All I needed to hear was that you were behind this too.”
Eamon appeared to be lost in thought. He was reflexively remembering his beloved partner through all those years together in Kilmarnie. The shear sense of abandonment lost its sharpness over time; though could be recalled at a moment’s notice under the right circumstances.
Now, Eamon’s conscious became burdened again with loss. He and his wife Mallory were a force united in fierce devotion. It was the kind of relationship that one wishes they could have as an ideal, though few truly achieve. And while there is settling with one’s lot, they shared a rare devotion desired by most.
Mallory was his pillar, and he her post. Their bond bled an ancient twine of lust and trust, hope and renewal, hardship and happiness. So it still cut fresh whenever her face appeared in the flower of his treasured recollections. Oh how he held so many delicious memories of her!
Then, just as quickly, his mind would return to the present. So, with a gentle heave of his once heavy heart, he regained his customary vigor.
“These moments make me fade back to other happy days under this old roof. You already know your mother was the best thing to have happened to me. And from her was born you, and that continued my good fortune! Such compassion radiated from that woman’s eyes! It was as if she cradled the blessed angel in her heart.
“Remember how she always gave refuge in anyone’s time of need? Yes, I often wondered if those people would pay her in kind if the need arose, but not Mallory. She was true and selfless. Accepting this child into our home does justice to her memory. I look forward to our time ahead.”
Eamon rose from his chair and paced slowly back to where Mary had found him. His gaze fixed upon a misting landscape while assessing responsibilities in the enlarged household. Realizing he had some lingering questions about their changed circumstances, he turned towards his daughter.
“Mary, please realize there are other things we should address. This is all so sudden that I don’t want to get overwhelmed by the unforeseen. It’s truly remarkable; almost as if Mallory has given us something special from above. Regardless, practicalities mean some awkwardness as well.”
“How do you mean father? It’s all very plain to tell. When people ask about the child, I’ll be honest as always. Yes, it’ll strike some as a touch odd, but that will be their issue! I think the truth is beautiful in its simplicity. Our babe washed ashore, and I was fortunate enough to recover him in the morn.”
Eamon stroked his chin in contemplation. “As fanciful a tale it may seem to some, I feel they’d have to believe you. Where else would a Colored child come from in Kilmarnie?
“I obviously have no quarter with the color of this child, Mary. Though there will always be others that echo the words of a good Christian and act a devil’s disciple. It is they that will make your efforts much harder than need be.”
Mary clearly understood that of which her father spoke. Being an upstanding individual, he looked with unwavering disdain at those proficient in bigotry.
“Father, it is within me to keep aiming for goodness, and not fear evil. I learned that from you and mother. Today we are taking on something that we must as Harvey’s. We have no other choice than to look after this child. No one else seems to care for his survival.”
A proud smile prodded the corners of Eamon’s lips. He nodded quietly in approval.
“That’s all I wanted to say. So what do you aim to call him Mary?”
Mary glowed in appreciation. “Peter. Peter Harvey’s his name. But in my heart and mind, he will always be my little Moses.” At that point, the babe began to softly stir. Eamon came closer to behold his newfound grandson.
“Be gentle, my little Peter. You are home,” Mary cooed to him. Upon issuing these calm words, Peter Harvey slipped into a silent comfort. Such wa
s the beginning of a new life in a new land of a new babe.
Morning heralded a dawn of new beginnings in the Harvey household. Mary became a mother, Eamon a grandfather. And in time the chattering class of Kilmarnie would have a topic for discussion that had no rival.
Successive days broke through the brooding landscape with unusual rays of warming light. Mary would awaken to each with Peter sleeping softly at her side. It was truly remarkable how easily she fell into her new role, showing fate had chosen with knowing purpose.
Each nurturing day unfolded in quiet passing as mother grew in caring step with her new child. Peter’s tiny body soon began to sprout forth. He had within him a surreal calmness, giving expressions of knowing ease which surpassed his tender years.
Soon a bevy of firsts came in swift progression as Peter’s days carried forward. One most significant for the Harvey family was his introduction to their church. It would also be the first opportunity for some of their community to see Peter in flesh form.
When that Sunday came the land about was shaded in an uncommon bask of reverberant sunlight. So dull and somber were typical hues in Kilmarnie that the brightness seemed a hindrance to many squinting faces. A hard quick rush of Atlantic chill heralded the Harvey clan’s arrival.
Beaming Mary huddled her gentle Peter in bosom while Eamon Harvey strode proudly to their regular spot in the pews. As the seated assembly noticed this lovely brown child in the company of Mary and Eamon, their eyes were treated to a rare occurrence indeed. Hushed words let them know they were the main topic of conversation. The smiling pair anticipated nothing less.
Walking towards the pulpit, their priest gave a customary look around his congregation. All sat in welcoming approval within the weathered stone walls of Kilmarnie Church. Scanning his flock, he knew this was no ordinary Sunday.
The salted air that lined every lung of every townsperson was charged with tingly anticipation. For today, the so called “Moses of Kilmarnie” was to be baptized by Father Dougherty. In a place where life’s daily rewards were paid in hard deed and strong will, such a sight was not to be missed.
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