by Smith, Skye
She walked over to Bear, who was trying to see the mess on the back of his clothes and she helped him to brush off some of the worst. For him she had soft and kind words. "Thank you. Without a man strong enough to lift him, he would not have survived. You saved him, and now you know how to save others."
Bear grinned a toothless smile back and he touched his forehead in a mock salute to the damp beauty. He looked around at the faces in the crowd. They should have all been smiling, happy. This was a joyous event. Instead they were looking fearfully at this slip of a girl.
David's mother ran forward to stand by Britta and yell at the crowd. "Now we all now how to save others. Get away from her with your accusing looks. There was no witchcraft here, only uncommon sense."
Britta was not just angry at the crowd who had not helped, but at Jon. He well knew how to save drowning men and it should have been him doing this, not her. He and David had been swimming together. A sudden terror gripped her heart. She looked at all the faces around her. She ran through the them and along the edge of the beach, her eyes searching. She could not see Jon. She saw Winnie kneeling beside David. "Where is Jon?" she yelled, almost screaming.
"He was swimming with David," Winnie replied.
Britta put her face down next to David's. David shrugged at her.
Britta was now in a blind panic and looking out into the waves of the shore break. Was that a head. No a log. There, no a bird. She started calling his name. Bear came to her to ask what was the matter. "My brother was with David. I cannot see him."
"Here lass, I'll hold you up so you can see over the break," and with that he put one of his giant hands under her bum and lifted her effortlessly straight up and onto a shoulder, then steadied her there. She absent mindedly pulled her cloak close to cover her modesty as she looked out beyond the waves. It was no use, for she could not see clearly through the blur of tears.
"Oye, what's going on?" said a voice behind her.
She spun her head, and there was Jon walking towards her from the dunes, dragging a half dozen long poles behind him. "Oh, Jon!" She started to cry.
Jon dropped the end of the poles so he could catch his sister as she launched herself off Bear's tall shoulder. He held her close, and gave Bear the glance that said, "Women, go figure," in every language.
"David almost drowned. I thought you were with him."
"Nah," said Jon, "I went to fetch some poles so the women could hang their shifts to dry." He walked her towards the fire hugging her close. The hug lasted only a moment because he let her go to wave and yell at some girls near to the lobster tub. "Oye, not those ones. Throw those ones back into the sea. Can't you see they are strung with eggs?"
* * * * *
On the brisk sail back to port, David rigged a bench so that Britta could sit as she steered the ship and he could sit behind her supporting her back. He had his heavy wool cloak draped around them both to keep the wind away and his body was warming her back. "Thank you again," he whispered into her ear, and then kissed the lobe.
"David, you’re a lovely man, but I am engaged to be married, and well you know it." She felt him stir as if her rebuke had been taken as a signal to go away. "No, stay and keep me warm. We cannot be lovers, but that doesn't mean we can't be close friends."
"Your fancy pants man won't take offence? Won't he be jealous, possessive?"
"Let him be," she reached back with a hand to touch his cheek. "Maybe it will make him more attentive. Sometimes I think he likes his life at Harvard better than he likes me."
With all the sails set and a steady breeze there was nothing else to do but for everyone to gather around the wheel and laugh and talk and sing. Winnie's father taught all the women a naughty sea chantey with dozens of verses and they sang and giggled their way towards port.
The only time the singing stopped was when Britta asked about where to steer when a line of tidal flotsam blocked their way. David stood and looked and said. "No need to turn. Go right through it. The bow of this old lady was designed to crash through ice. The only thing you need keep an eye out for is a dead head. You know. A half submerged log."
With that, she plowed the ship forward and gritted her teeth at the tearing and crunching sounds of the bow cutting through the flotsam. Then they were through it, and she tried to pick up the words of the next verse of the song. She was sure that the men were making the verses up just to embarrass the women.
The last verses before the men had to attend to the sheets, and before an experienced hand took the wheel from Britta, were all about the adventures of the sloop Johan Bee.
* * * * *
There was relative peace in Boston's streets and squares that summer, despite the number of marches and demonstrations. Yes, there was an absence of any buyers in the shops for other than the staples of life, and yes, the merchants grumbled incessantly, but it was peaceful. That is, until late August.
To be fair, the Company did not publish the list of their colonial consignees in London until August 4, a week after a Navy vessel left for Boston carrying sealed orders that contained that same list. The Navy, and thus Governor Hutchinson, therefore had notice of the list a full week before of anyone else in Boston, in case they needed to prepare for civil unrest.
On seeing the list, Hutchinson was so well-pleased that all of his recommendations had been accepted, including two of his sons, and two of his cousins and three other in-laws who were staunch allies, that he had the list of consignees published immediately.
The reaction was just as immediate, and Britta heard all about it while serving a sudden spike in customers in her shop.
The local moneylenders immediately called in the loans to those merchants that were not listed as consignees. They were in a hurry because at any time a ship could arrive with the foreclosure orders of the London banks. Perhaps the London banks were unscrupulous with the rich merchants, but the local moneylenders were outright vicious with the employees.
The ranks of the demonstrators and marchers swelled, as did the number of people sleeping out along roadsides and under porticoes. Tempers flared and ale flowed and there were acts of random violence and vandalism. Boston was a city under siege by the poor and the ruined and the dispossessed. The governor and his wife, of course, retired to Castle William for their own safety, while the new consignees fled to their country houses.
The Anchor Coffee Shoppe became so busy that no one was allowed in unless someone already inside would vouch for you. Jon, Winnie, and Britta were run off their feet making drinks and making runs to the bakery. Winnie's aunt had set up a stall outside the door and was doing a roaring trade selling her pies. The entire shop, plus the meeting room was filled with people sitting at tables, reading and sorting the correspondence that was arriving from all over.
The first sort was to find correspondence from outside Massachusetts and take immediately to Samuel and the inner group in the meeting room. Letters from the provincial villages were taken to a group working under Mercy's direction in the front of the shop. Notes from Boston, especially those from near Castle William, were read by a group under Daniel's direction.
Outside there were riders with fast horses waiting to deliver answers, while other riders arrived constantly with new messages. Benches were set up outside so they could rest their legs and saddle sores while eating pies and drinking coffee. Not a one of them ordered tea.
Mercy's group were making copy after copy of the same letter to be sent to each village. Very short, very simple. Keep watching, take no action, buy no imports, and then a few sentences about what was happening in Boston.
Daniel's group were answering messages as they arrived and sending replies off immediately. The Charitable Irish Society of Boston and the North End Caucus each had the equivalent of a police force on the streets in case demonstrators were threatened by the governor's men, and it was Daniel's task to keep them informed of what was happening.
In the meeting room the pace was calmer. They had word from correspond
ence committees in other provinces. The situation in other provinces was very different and much calmer than the boiling over situation in Boston. It was becoming more and more likely that the Philadelphia committee would take over the functions of the central committee, to allow the Boston committee to concentrate on the mess in Massachusetts.
"Look, here's another letter from out of province," said John Adams. "The chosen consignees are all merchants who already had been trading with the Company in London." He swore under his breath. "No other province seems to have a governor as corrupt or as greedy as ours."
"Ay, that is what Philadelphia is telling us, too. It seems like we must find our own way," grumbled Samuel.
"What is happening?" asked Britta as she placed a mint tea and a jam tart in front of John Adams.
"Oh, the other provinces already have a good strategy for fighting back against the Company's reorganization of the Atlantic trade. The trouble is, it won't work here."
"Why not?" she asked.
"Well, their consignees were all chosen from existing merchants. The merchants know their customers and they know that many of them will refuse to buy Company goods. They don't want to be on the hook for the price, tax, and fees for cargoes that won't sell."
"And that is the same in every other province?" She sneaked a bit of his tart.
"The same," he replied while pretending to slap her thieving hand.
"So your plan has worked. You have trained the people not to buy the Company's Chinese Tea, and now they will refuse to buy anything brought by the Company. You're little committees have defeated the biggest company in the world."
"We always knew it was a good plan. Legal. Non violent. It just took a lot of patience to teach the Company that we can live quite well without their trinkets and luxuries," he sighed. "We have won the fight in every province except for our own. Now we must deal with Governor Hutchinson."
"But if his merchants accept the cargoes, and no one buys from them, then they will go broke."
"They are not real merchants who understand the business. They are new to the merchant game, the governor's stooges, and he has deep pockets."
"New. They are new. That means they must set up warehouses and shops with salesmen. Can't you stop them from getting it all set up. What if they have no warehouses?" she asked.
"Good thought. Sam, did you hear that?" John repeated it to his cousin.
"There are many warehouses in foreclosure. The banks and moneylenders will rent them to anyone with the cash," Sam called back and added some choice curses for the bankers.
"The only time I ever see Sam angry is when someone mentions bankers," she whispered to John.
"No, it is more than that," John whispered back. "These committees of correspondence were his baby. He worked so hard to set them up and to spread the idea to other provinces. Now, just when they are becoming a political force across all the provinces, he must give control of them to Philadelphia. He has no choice."
"Is that a bad thing, I mean other than losing his baby?" asked Britta.
"Well, I am embarrassed to say, but...," John lowered his voice, "despite all of our fine words about equality and rights, so long as the central committee was here, it allowed for a resurgence of the political power of the Puritans. Especially the commonwealth ideals of the Harvard Puritans."
John took her by the arm and moved her further away from the other men. "Philadelphia, however, is in Pennsylvania, a province with many Germans and Quakers. They have their own views about common wealth and common ownership and communes and communism. They may even switch the language of communication from English to German."
"So hand control to some other province until you figure out what to do with Hutchinson," shrugged Britta. These educated men with all their big words always made everything seem so complicated.
"Nowhere else is as well organized as Philadelphia. Not even us. Look at this room, look at your shop, look at the number of riders we have standing by. This cannot go on. Not with Hutchinson breathing down our necks."
"And it won't," she smirked, "unless you pay me for all the food and drink your riders are scoffing down."
"Oh, oh, I'm so sorry," he began to apologize but then realized she was jesting. They trusted her to run an honest tabulation and she trusted them to pay in full at the end of each week. He made a mental note that this week's tab would be huge.
She gave John Adams a saucy wink and then left the room with her tray full of dirty dishes. Older men were so easy to tease, and so grateful.
* * * * *
* * * * *
MAYA'S AURA - Destroy the Tea Party by Skye Smith
Chapter 17 - Lydia hands back the bonds
"It really bugs me that the Otis family and the Adams family set up a boycott of the East India Company, but they never ever call it a boycott." Maya complained as she put even more butter on her toast. "Like they dance around it with phrases like 'refuse to buy', and 'proscription'. Why not just call it a boycott. Call a spade, a spade."
"Perhaps because the word 'boycott' was not invented yet," replied Nana as she flipped her own toast in the oven, and pulled the butter dish away from Maya before she used up all the soft butter. "It didn't get added to the dictionary till after the 1880's."
"No way. You mean this boycott became popular all over the USA and even in England and they didn't even have a word for it yet. Like it almost ruined the biggest company in the world. Like wasn't the East India Company the equivalent of Wal-Mart in those days?"
"It always surprised me," said Nana, as she spread the last knife full of butter across both pieces of her toast. "that the Company didn't just do away with Jemmy Otis and Samuel Adams. A couple of bullets, bang, bang, no more boycott. They were the guys that kept the boycott alive for years until it finally became widespread enough to work. Even before it was widespread they were costing the Company a fortune."
"A couple of bullets? Why that is an evil thing to say about friends of mine, urr, friends of Britta's. I mean, sure they could be pains in the ass, but that was because they were both old fashioned fuddy duddy Puritans. Like even in those days they were old fashioned."
Nana didn't respond. More and more, Maya was speaking of long dead people that she had never actually met, as if she had been just talking to them. More and more it was as if the memories were being told directly by Britta rather than by Maya. More and more it was like she was part of some out of control sci fi time travel experiment. More and more she worried about Maya's sanity.
Perhaps she should hide the crystal and put a stop to the crystal dreams.
* * * * *
* * * * *
By the end of September the pace in the Anchor Coffee Shoppe had slowed considerably, mainly because Samuel had handed responsibility for inter provincial correspondence to the Philadelphia committee. No longer did the committees business overflow the meeting room, so Britta had her shop back.
Britta tried offering special deals to win her old regulars back, the ones who had given up coming when it had been so crowded by committee business. The evenings were getting cooler and she was offering chocolate at the same price as coffee to use up last winter's beans. She rarely sold any chocolate on hot days, unless there were women in the shop.
Whenever there was a market day, she hoped that some of her women customers would drop by. So it was that she was pleased when a woman with a familiar look, holding a baby, walked in to her shop and sat down. She grinned and went to have a look at the baby and came face to face with Lydia. "Oh my goodness! Oh Lydia, you look so well, so happy. And who is the little one?"
"This is Grace, named after Red's mother. I cannot believe she is so small when she made me gain so much weight."
Jon rushed over towards Lydia ready to give her a huge kiss, but changed directions in mid-stride when he saw Red come in the door leading Robby. Instead he reached down and swung Robby around and up onto his shoulders, and then showed Lydia, but not Red, his best pout. She answered it wil
l a tiny shrug and a winsome smile.
"It is time to complete our business, dear ones, for your bonds to me are now finished," Lydia announced. "Shall we do that first so that we can visit as equals, simply as friends."
There was no shortage of Harvard-trained lawyers in the meeting room, so everything was signed, sealed and delivered within a half hour. Jon and Britta held up each of their cancelled bonds and danced a joyous jig in celebration. Customers at the tables around them, grabbed their cups and moved quickly away from the very real danger of tippage and spillage.
"And the shop," asked Lydia, when they finally sat down again, "will the landlord let you continue on?"
"He has no choice," replied Jon. "This is a thriving business surrounded by businesses that are failing. If he doesn't keep hold of our rent, then the moneylender may call his loan on the property."
"Yes," mumbled Red, "we know of the recent hard times in Boston. Not so bad in the country villages, mind you, but then villagers are not addicted to imported luxuries like city folk are. That brings us to the other reason for our trip. Lydia wants a house in Boston. Prices are crashing in Boston right now, so we thought we would come and do some looking. Perhaps buy one that has just been foreclosed."
Britta was about to start a Sam Adams style rant about the bankers, but she swallowed her words when she remembered that Red was a moneylender. Instead she said, "Foreclosures are so sad. It is heartbreaking to see families lose their homes." She noticed that Red was the only one that did not say something in agreement.
"Where will you stay?" asked Jon, hoping they would not expect to stay upstairs. "It will take weeks to decide on a house."
"With a friend of mine," said Red. "He has just bought a few foreclosures for pennies on the dollar and knows the market. His father is the Governor."
Lydia was sitting between Jon, who was holding Robby, and Britta who was holding Grace. She kicked both of them under the table and said, "So those lawyers are still using the back room as a sometime office, I see. It is about time you took the space over and expanded your," she repeated louder, "YOUR shop."