Phoebe's Light

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

As for “what happens next” in the life of Mary Coffin, well, that is another story.

  1

  As Daphne Coffin made her way onto the wooden planks of Straight Wharf, she heard someone call her name and whirled to see her sister Jane hurrying to catch up with her. Holding each of Jane’s hands was a towheaded child, a boy on one side and a girl on the other.

  “Has thee heard the bells?” Jane said, her face bright with happiness. “Ren’s ship is in!”

  “The Endeavour?” Daphne’s eyes widened in disbelief while her mind took hold of this stunning surprise. Ren was home? At long last! “I heard the bells but didn’t realize they rang for Ren’s ship.”

  “Imagine, Daphne. Ren has not even met his own children yet.”

  Her sister looked exceptionally pretty, though her face was flushed with heat from the warmth of this sun-stippled day. Jane Coffin Macy was one of the loveliest girls on Nantucket Island. She had high, wide cheekbones and a dainty, pointed chin that gave her face a charming sweetheart shape. Brown eyes, blonde hair, a peaches-and-cream complexion, with lips that were always red, as if she’d been eating berries. “I’m so glad thee is here this morning, Daphne.” She straightened the organza fichu that draped across her shoulders and smoothed her skirt. “Thy presence will help me stay calm.”

  Daphne looked a little closer at her older sister. There was a trembling air about her, a vulnerability that was nearly palpable. “Thee must be beside thyself with excitement. Here, let me take Hitty.” As she reached out to take her niece’s hand, Jane suddenly swayed, as if she were on the verge of fainting.

  “M-Mama!” Jane’s son, Henry, shrieked in alarm.

  Daphne grabbed her sister’s shoulders to steady her. “Jane, is thee not well?”

  Jane dipped her chin so that her black bonnet shielded her face from the sun. “I’m fashed, ’tis all. A bit dizzy. I’m sure ’tis from anticipation.”

  Daphne spun around as she heard the rhythmic slap of oars on water. The lighters were coming in now, slipping through the calm waters of Nantucket Bay, bringing the crew off the ship Endeavour. As captain, Ren would be the last one off, that much she knew. It would be a long wait this morning, but they would not budge from their waiting post on the wharf. The wharves were no place for maids, so unless a ship was arriving into port, she did not go near them. But how she loved being down by the harbor! So many strange accents, unusual skin colors, piercings, tattoos.

  The Endeavour stood black-limned behind the bar that lined Nantucket Harbor. Lighter after lighter sailed up to release crew to pour onto the wharf and hustle down to greet their loved ones or make their way to the taverns to celebrate their return.

  Jane’s eyes were fixed on each lighter as it docked, gazing over the sailors, nodding to each one as they hurried past them, sea chests hoisted on their shoulders. Overhead, seabirds circled with shrieks and cries. “Over six years, Daphne,” Jane said in a low voice. “He’s been gone six years. Nearly seven.”

  Daphne grinned. “I wonder if Ren might be covered in tattoos. Or wearing a thick tangle of whiskers that hides his chin.” She wrinkled her nose as some rank seamen went past. “Hopefully he will not smell like a beached whale.” When she caught the solemn look on her sister’s face, she quickly added, “Jane, ’tis a jest. Hand over heart, I was only jesting. Ren will return as the same man.”

  “How do I know what he’s like after six years at sea? We were married less than a month when he set sail.”

  Daphne’s smile faded. “I suppose that is the plight of a captain’s wife. More goodbyes than hellos.”

  “Still, I did not expect an absence of six long years.”

  “He’s missed quite a bit.”

  “He’s missed everything. The birth of his children, the death of Father, and everything in between.”

  Daphne glanced at Jane and noticed a drip of perspiration trickling down the side of her cheek. “He is home now, sister. Safe and sound.”

  “But for how long?”

  “Today is not the day to concern thyself with the next voyage.”

  Jane paused a moment, as if she’d become lost in thoughts, or memories. “Thee is right.” She pushed the words out on a sharp expulsion of breath, then flashed a rueful smile. “Not today.”

  She was a fine captain’s wife, Jane was. Reynolds Macy chose well, Daphne thought. She’d never heard her sister complain of loneliness, not once, not even after Hitty and Henry were born. Not until this moment.

  Jane’s eyes were fixed on the ship. “I have changed much in these six years.”

  “Not so much.”

  “But I have. Starting the Cent School, for one. Who knows what Ren will think of that venture?”

  “It provides a great deal of help for island women, Jane, whose husbands are at sea. I’m certain he will understand.”

  “I’m not at all certain. And while thee might jest, no doubt Ren has changed too. What if we don’t feel the same way about each other?”

  Daphne put an arm around her sister’s small shoulders, a vivid reminder of how opposite they were. Jane was delicate and fine-boned where Daphne was sturdy and curvy. Jane was reserved, graceful, as even-keeled as a ship, instinctively knowing how to react in any situation, while Daphne could be clumsy, blunt, at times socially awkward. In Daphne’s eyes, her older sister was as close to perfection as a Quaker woman could be, one whose Inward Light reflected such a strong and steady beam. Despite being reprimanded by the Friends for marrying out of unity, Jane’s faith never wavered.

  They heard a shout and pounding feet coming up hard on them. “Any sign of him yet?” Tristram Macy, cousin and business partner to Ren, flew past them, turning his head for an answer.

  “Nay, not yet,” Jane called back, smiling. It was hard not to smile when Tristram was around.

  Daphne lifted her hand in a wave to Tristram, whom she had seen only yesterday. He gave her no greeting, she noted. Jane noticed as well. “He’s distracted, that’s all.”

  “Of course.” Of course he was. And yet, and yet . . . there was always something off between them.

  “Mayhap, with Ren safely returned, Tristram’s thoughts will turn to the future. Thee knows how worried he’s been about the business. Soon, I think, he will propose marriage.” Jane squeezed Daphne’s hand. “Everyone hopes so.”

  All the world, or at least all of Nantucket, considered Tristram Macy to be Daphne’s intended. The man she would marry, although he hadn’t gotten round to ask her yet. How many times had Daphne thought Trist was going to propose marriage? Just the other day, they were walking along the beach at sunset—a perfect Nantucket evening. He had taken her hand and covered it with his own, and she thought, Tonight. Surely, tonight he will ask. But he didn’t.

  So how did Daphne feel about him? She and Tristram had known each other all their lives. She knew him when his stutter made him the target of school yard mocking. He knew her when she was round as a barrel, much like Hitty was now, before she started to grow and grow and grow, and her body rearranged itself.

  She had watched as Trist evolved into a very handsome man, dashing and decadent, whose charming personality had a dazzling effect on women—including her own mother. Daphne did not feel dazzled by Tristram Macy, which might be why he favored her. Her feelings for him were akin to sitting by the hearth on a rainy day with a well-loved book to read and reread, warm and cozy.

  Daphne saw Trist make his way toward the far end of the wharf, darting between clusters of townspeople, clapping hands with the crew as they emerged from lighters. By the pleased looks on their sun-weathered faces, and the fact that the Endeavour sat low in the brine, it seemed the rumors were true—it had been a greasy voyage. Mayhap Jane was right—now Tristram would believe the business he and Ren had started was on solid footing and he would make plans for the future.

  The two cousins had a business arrangement that suited them well. Reynolds captained the ship, Tristram found and managed investors. Or, as Trist liked to describe it
in his cheeky way, “Ren makes the money. I spend it.”

  Before long, Straight Wharf nearly emptied of sailors but for stevedores who unloaded the heavy wooden casks of whale oil off the lighters, rolling them down a wooden gangplank with a loud rumble—precious cargo ready to head to the warehouse. The same four remained in a tight clump: Jane and Daphne, Henry and Hitty. And Tristram, of course, though he was engaged in a deep conversation with the Endeavour’s first mate at the wharf’s edge.

  Jane’s eyes snapped to a lighter approaching the dock. “There he is,” she said. “I’m sure of it.” Her fingers tightened on both of her children’s hands. “Come. It’s time to meet your father.” She started down the wharf to meet the lighter as it docked.

  Ren stood at the bow with legs straddled, hands on his hips, elegant and graceful on the swiftly moving lighter. When he spotted his wife, he lifted both arms in greeting and she raised her hands locked with her childrens’, laughing.

  Daphne was so pleased to see her brother-in-law return hale and hearty, she nearly lifted her skirts and ran down the deck, shouting his name. Five years ago she might have—nay, would have—done such a thing, but it would hardly be proper now. Then, she was still a girl, only fifteen. Today, she was a woman, trying to be proper, but it made her feel so stiff, like the whale-boned spikes that squeezed her middle so tight she could hardly breathe. How she missed the freedoms of girlhood! She squelched the desire to tumble straight into the family’s sweet reunion and watched demurely from a distance.

  She’d forgotten how alike in looks Tristram and Ren were. Both with those broad Macy faces and deep-set eyes, dark hair. Ren’s hair was sun streaked but cropped close, Tristram’s was held back in a queue. Both with striking figures: tall, trim, upright, confident. Standing behind Ren was a dark-skinned sailor she did not recognize. And then a familiar and weathered face, Jeremiah Macy, Ren’s father, who coopered on the Endeavour. She hardly knew Jeremiah but by reputation—his older brother, Matthew, had married Phoebe Starbuck, great-grandmother to Daphne and Jane. Like most Nantucketers, they were all distantly related.

  When the lighter drew within a rod’s length, Ren leapt onto the deck, not even waiting until the mooring lines had been tied to the cleats. As soon as his boots—cracked white with salt—touched the solid planks of the wharf, he strode toward his wife and lifted her up in an embrace, swinging around in a circle. He gently set Jane down and bracketed her face with his two hands, holding it as if it were a precious treasure, gazing down into her eyes as if memorizing every feature. Jane was the one who broke the intimate moment as she remembered the boy and girl who peered up uncertainly at the stranger. “Ren. Oh Ren. There will be time for us later. But now . . . come meet thy children.”

  Daphne watched a sudden transformation come over Ren. He blanched, losing that ever-imposing captain’s countenance, and drew in a deep breath, as if recovering from having the wind knocked out of him. As he turned his attention to his children, he seemed . . . ill at ease, uncomfortable, unsure of what to do next, so he did nothing. Nothing but peer back at them. Prompted by Jane’s elbow, Henry extended his hand for a shake. Ren bent over to shake his son’s small hand. “Um, lad, hello.”

  Henry kept a quizzical expression on him. The boy was so like Jane, reserved and formal. He poked his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, staring at his father, until he received another elbow jab from his mother. “Hello, Captain, sir. I am Henry James Macy.”

  Jane gently pushed Hitty forward. “And here is Mehitabel.”

  Ren turned to the girl. He crouched down to her eye level. “Mehitabel. Hello, lass. I am pleased to make thy acquaintance.”

  “Everyone calls me Hitty,” she replied and curtsied very low, as if she were a lady.

  “Then, Hitty it will be.”

  “Did thee bring us presents?”

  Again, Ren seemed baffled. “I’m certain,” he said at last, “that I have a few treasures in my chest.” With that, Hitty threw her arms around his neck. Daphne saw Ren’s eyelids slide closed for a moment as his daughter’s small arms clung to him.

  Jane glanced up to see Daphne and raised an arm to her to bring her into the circle. “Ren, thee remembers my sister Daphne.”

  Ren lifted his chin over the top of Hitty’s head. His dark eyes moved back and forth over her face, wide with surprise. “Daphne? Why, thee was just an awkward foal of a girl when I saw thee last.”

  Daphne took a few steps forward to join them. “When I last saw thee, Reynolds Macy, thy hair was in a queue—”

  He brushed a hand over his short-cropped hair. “Cut off. The entire ship. A lice outbreak.”

  “—and thee was wooing my favorite sister and stealing her away from our childhood home.”

  Ren laughed, as did Daphne. She turned, expecting to see Jane smiling too, and was startled to see the color drain from her sister’s face as if a stopper was pulled from a sink. Her eyes rolled back in a most unholy manner, and she wilted onto the deck.

  Discussion Questions

  Pre-Revolutionary Puritan America is not something most people know much about, other than the Pilgrims on the Mayflower at Plymouth Rock. Did you discover anything new about this time period? Did anything surprise or shock you?

  This novel has two stories in it—Mary Coffin’s and her great-granddaughter Phoebe Starbuck’s. Did you resonate more with Mary Coffin or with Phoebe Starbuck? Compare the two women. How are they similar? Different?

  What twists in the book did you figure out early on? Anything you guessed wrong? What plot twist took you most by surprise?

  Mary Coffin grew up during a time when higher learning was closed to women. But her quick mind and quicker tongue never stopped her from being learned. Was it difficult for you to understand why she loved an illiterate man? Would you have preferred Eleazer to be her choice of a husband? Why or why not?

  As Mary grappled with learning of the General Court’s severe persecution of Quakers in New England, she summed it up with a thought-provoking comment. “People oppress people. It is in their nature.” Do you agree or disagree?

  Which character in the book did you empathize with the most? Do you recognize yourself in any of the characters?

  One of the novel’s themes was the pride of man (or woman). Mary Coffin called it a “dreadful affliction.” The greatest gift Nathaniel gave to her was admitting to her that he had been trying, unsuccessfully, to learn to read. “That was enough for her,” she said. What did she mean by that?

  Did you ever think you were meant to marry one person, only to discover in hindsight they weren’t the person God intended for you after all? What would you tell a young person pining for someone who doesn’t return his or her affections?

  Captain Phineas Foulger was a complicated character. At times, he was kind and protective. Other times, he was cold and unfeeling. Did you feel any sympathy for Captain Phineas Foulger? Like him at all? Wish the author had given him a different ending—or do you think he got the ending he deserved?

  Phoebe is determined to marry well, within the conformity of her Quaker faith. She thought the love of the esteemed captain would prove her worthy. At one point, Phoebe realized that she just kept exchanging one set of problems for another. Have you ever struggled with similar feelings of insecurity? What changed for Phoebe . . . and when?

  The use of laudanum might’ve surprised you, but it was not an uncommon drug in that time period. It was available without prescription, thought to be harmless, and used for all kinds of ailments, from depression to dysentery. Can you think of a modern equivalent of a cure-all? First, you control it. Soon, it controls you.

  Let’s consider Silo for a moment. He was a half-breed boy, considered deaf and dumb, unacknowledged by his own father, not particularly valued by his mother. Phoebe felt a tenderness for Silo because he had to live on the fringe of Nantucket society (she understood that, she said). Later, during Matthew’s trial, when Silo was called to testify, Ezra Barnard explained to the judge
that there were many ways to have a voice. How would you describe Silo’s voice?

  Contrast Phoebe with Matthew. Here’s an example: Phoebe had an unwavering faith. Matthew doubted everything he’d been taught. What self-perceived inadequacies did they operate under? How did this thinking affect their decisions and choices?

  Discuss God’s faithfulness to Phoebe and to Matthew, despite their obstinancy.

  How did God use others to draw Mary Coffin away from a strong aversion to hypocritical religion and toward a genuine relationship with him?

  “The sea always wins,” Hiram Hoyt declared during Matthew’s trial. What do you think he meant by that? Did the sea win in this story?

  Finding true faith is another theme in this book. Discuss the moments when faith became real to Mary Coffin, to Phoebe Starbuck, and to Matthew Macy. Could it be possible that faith is the metaphor for the sea? As in, “the sea always wins.” So does our God.

  A Note to the Reader

  I’ve always loved Nantucket. And yet it’s not the modern Nantucket I’ve always loved. What is compelling to me is the history of the island, its development over the centuries, and the critical structure that the Quaker faith brought to it during the whaling years. For me, this is quintessential Nantucket: rich with stories of brave, determined pioneers who forged lives that would inspire future generations.

  A few years ago, I spent a rainy day in the Nantucket Historical Society, eager to see the famous accounting book of Mary Coffin Starbuck. I had to sign my life away to the Society’s highly attentive keeper, leave my purse and camera in a locker, fill out paperwork, and wear a pair of white gloves. When the book was brought to me out of the vault, chills ran up and down my spine. Here it was, a sheepskin book over three hundred and fifty years old, penned by a woman I had grown to greatly admire.

  I learned a few things about Great Mary as I paged oh-so-carefully through her book: she had exquisite penmanship with few spelling errors, her trading was carefully accounted for in pounds and shillings and pence, and she had dealings with everyone on the island. Indians and farmers, men and women. Clearly, she was a learned, open-minded woman. And yet her husband, Nathaniel, could not read or write. How curious! This woman, I knew, had a story to tell.