by J A Whiting
“It has connections to a lot of wartime activities,” Viv read from the screen. “But what about the late 1800s and early 1900s? I don’t see anything about that time period.”
“Look for other articles,” Lin suggested as she leaned over her cousin’s shoulder.
After some tapping and reading, Viv said, “Oh, look. From the end of the Civil War to the beginning of World War I, the island was used as a quarantine station and there was a hospital there, too.”
“Quarantine station?” Lin’s voice held a trace of apprehension. “Quarantined for what?”
“Smallpox.”
“Ugh.” Lin made a face.
Viv read aloud. “In 1890, medical staff evaluated tens of thousands of people arriving on ships from Europe. Passengers arriving from countries where contagious deadly diseases like smallpox had been reported would be required to stay on Canter Island for evaluation. Once given the okay, people would be allowed to go on to Boston or to New York City’s Ellis Island. Smallpox killed three out of ten people who came down with the disease. Many who survived smallpox were disfigured.” Viv groaned. “We were on that island today. Can the smallpox virus still be alive on Canter Island?”
Lin had no idea, but she said, “No, it can’t be. The island would be guarded by security personnel if a deadly virus was still present there.”
“Gosh, that’s frightening.” Viv shuddered. “Wait until I tell John he brought us to a disease-riddled island.”
“Canter was used after the smallpox outbreak. It was used for that radio school during the 1940s,” Lin said. “The government wouldn’t have put a radio school on an island where contagious diseases were present.”
“Right. Okay. We must be safe then.” Viv eyed her cousin. “Do you think so?”
“Yes,” Lin nodded. “We’re fine.”
“It scared me for a few minutes.” Viv sipped from her wine glass. “We go out for a pleasant boat ride and return home with smallpox.”
“Don’t even joke.”
“I need to go check on the bookstore,” Viv said. “Want to walk with me into town?”
Lin agreed, and after finishing the bruschetta, they cleaned up.
The dog and cat were too lazy to accompany the young women into town. They raised their furry heads when Viv invited them to come along, blinked at her, and then rested back on the sofa.
“I guess that’s a no from our faithful friends,” Lin said when she saw Nicky and Queenie close their eyes. “You’d think they’d been hiking all day instead of riding around in a boat.”
“The fresh air and sunshine knocked them out,” Viv said with a yawn. “Let’s get going or I’ll end up joining them on that couch.”
They walked out the front door of Lin’s gray-shingled cottage with the white shutters and the window boxes spilling over with flowers. She’d inherited the home from the grandfather who raised her. The two of them left Nantucket when Lin was little and they lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts together for almost ten years.
At eighteen, Lin went off to college and her grandfather returned to the island where he remained until his death.
Lin had been back for a little over a year and it was good to be home.
As the cousins passed the Maria Mitchell house, the birthplace of the woman astronomer, the stars began to twinkle overhead and a light breeze off the ocean made them both shiver.
Strolling along the brick sidewalks, Viv asked, “When do you and Leonard start the new landscaping job?”
“Tomorrow we’re going to the house to speak with the owner. We’ll probably start the project in the afternoon.” Lin was glad she had her sweater. The September evening’s temperature felt like it had dropped thirty degrees since they’d been out on the ocean earlier in the day.
Passing by the Civil War monument and turning onto Main Street, Lin kept taking quick glances over her shoulder. She’d felt uneasy and anxious since being on Canter Island and seeing the ghost. Maybe Viv was right and the spirit didn’t want anything from her, maybe he only wanted to make contact with someone who could see him.
But why did she feel so sad when she saw him? Why did she mumble about finding the truth and that she wanted to go home? She hadn’t even realized she’d said the words.
Approaching Tangerine Street and listening to Viv’s chatter about the bookstore, a cool breeze chilled Lin and then she spotted a man in a black coat standing on the corner. It was the ghost of her long-ago ancestor, Sebastian Coffin.
Unconsciously, Lin’s hand moved to touch the heirloom horseshoe necklace at her throat and she whispered to Viv that the older ghost was present.
“Oh, gosh,” Viv said nervously. “Where is he? What does he want?”
Before Lin could reply, a whoosh of icy air enveloped her and she slowly turned to look across the cobblestone street to the opposite corner.
The ghost-man from Canter Island stood there staring at her, his expression heavy with sadness.
“Someone followed us from Canter,” Lin said softly.
“Oh, no.” Viv’s eyes widened and she stepped closer to her cousin. When she spoke, her voice trembled. “Ghosts can’t carry smallpox, can they?”
3
Lin and Viv sat at Anton Wilson’s kitchen table where the historian, author, and former professor had his laptop, books, and folders spread out all over the surface. Thin and wiry and in his early seventies, Anton looked over the top of his black-rimmed eyeglasses.
“What did this ghost look like?”
Lin reported the spirit’s appearance and added, “His clothes tell me he’s from the late 1800s or the early 1900s.”
Anton said, “That was a busy time of immigration. Ports like Boston and New York set up processing stations on the small islands a few miles from the cities. The stations could hold people who might be ill or who had come from places with recent outbreaks of diseases. Sometimes whole ships were quarantined.”
Nicky and Queenie lifted their heads and turned to the historian, and the big gray cat let out a hiss.
“Were people sent back to their home countries?” Lin asked.
“Sometimes they were, and sometimes the people were kept at the island hospitals,” Anton said.
Viv frowned. “So some came all that way only to be quarantined and never allowed into the United States?”
“That’s correct. The immigration authorities wouldn’t risk spreading any diseases. They were quite strict and enforced the policies. It was a smart thing to do to try and prevent smallpox outbreaks,” Anton informed them.
“Some of the immigrants must have died in the island hospitals,” Lin guessed.
“That is also correct.”
“Were the bodies returned to their countries of origin?” Viv asked.
“No, the deceased were buried on the islands,” Anton said.
“There’s a cemetery on Canter Island?” Lin sat up straight.
“There is. Most of the graves hold smallpox victims.” Anton turned his laptop so the young women could see a picture of a small hospital that once stood on Canter.
“Oh, gosh.” Viv’s eyes were wide.
“It’s okay, Viv,” Lin said to her cousin. “The bodies are buried. The disease can’t be spread.” Lin eyed the historian with an expression of worry. “Can it?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Anton mumbled distractedly while he flipped through the pages of a history book.
“That’s not a very comforting statement,” Viv told the man. “I’d prefer a more definitive response like no, the disease could never be spread from a dead body.”
Anton didn’t pay any attention to Viv as he looked up from his book. “In 1918 and 1919, influenza hit Boston hard and thousands of people died. More than three hundred patients were transferred to the hospital on Canter Island.”
“That island hasn’t exactly been full of happy times,” Lin sighed.
Anton raised an eyebrow. “Here’s another thing that wasn’t good. Between 1918 and 1919, the g
overnment did experiments on sailors on Canter Island to determine how the Spanish Flu was transmitted from person to person.”
Viv’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding us. Human beings were used as guinea pigs in a health experiment?”
“I’m afraid so,” Anton nodded. “Of course, nothing like that could happen now, but back then, it was considered doing the most for the greater good.”
“I’m glad I didn’t live back then.” Lin shook her head. “What was done? The researchers infected the sailors with the flu?”
“They did experiments to see how the flu was passed. Healthy sailors would stand over a patient who would cough into their faces. Researchers transmitted blood and mucous from the ill to the healthy,” Anton said.
“That is barbaric,” Viv’s voice was louder than usual. “Why would any sailors agree to such treatment?”
Anton told them, “The sailors had been convicted of crimes, some serious, but most minor in nature. The men were promised that their prison sentences would be commuted if they participated … and survived. Their efforts would help society at large and that would be their real reward.”
“Some of the sailors died?” Lin asked.
“More than half of them died.”
“Some reward,” Viv said bitterly.
“My new ghost might have been a sailor who was chosen for the experiment,” Lin said thoughtfully.
“He may also have been an immigrant who contracted smallpox and died on the island,” Anton offered.
“Or,” Viv said. “He may have been living in Massachusetts during the flu and was sent to the hospital on Canter.”
Lin folded her hands and rested them on the table. “None of those choices are very good. No wonder my ghost told me he wanted to go home.”
Anton perked up, his eyes sparkling. “The ghost actually spoke to you?”
“No. I didn’t hear any words at all, but Viv reported that I muttered - Find out the truth. I want to go home. I think the words came from the ghost. I think that is what he wants from me.”
“To help him go home?” Anton’s head tilted slightly to the side. “How can you help with that?”
Lin shrugged. “I sure as heck don’t know.”
Viv said, “This spirit might not be from the era Lin suspects. He might be from another time.”
Anton brightened. “Well, if he is from long ago, he might have been a pirate.”
Lin stared at the man. “Why do you say that?”
“You’ve heard of Captain Kidd? During the 1600s and 1700s, piracy was rampant along the New England coast. The pirates preyed on merchant vessels. Rumor has it that pirates buried the treasures acquired from the plundering of vessels on small islands in Boston Harbor and the small islands off the coast of Nantucket. Canter being one of them.”
“What about Captain Kidd?” Viv asked. “Why did you mention his name?”
Anton said, “Captain Kidd was caught and imprisoned in Boston in 1699 before being sent to London where he was executed for piracy. Legend tells us that Kidd buried his treasure on one of the islands off of Nantucket. In addition, another pirate supposedly buried a fortune in diamonds on one of the small islands nearby.”
“Could your ghost be from 1700?” Viv asked her cousin. “Could your ghost be a pirate?”
Lin shook her head. “He wasn’t dressed like someone who lived in 1700.”
Anton got up to make some tea for everyone. “You have a puzzle before you,” he told Lin.
“How am I going to figure out what he wants?” Lin’s face was lined with worry.
“I think you already know what he wants,” Viv said as Queenie jumped onto her lap and curled into a ball. “He wants you to find the truth and he wants to go home.”
“What truth? And where is home? And how am I going to get him there?” Lin’s shoulders slumped.
“You’ll figure it out.” Anton carried porcelain cups and saucers to the table. “You always do.”
“What if I can’t? What will happen to the ghost if I’m unable to help him?”
“He won’t be any worse off if you aren’t able to provide assistance.” Anton poured the hot liquid into the cups and then set out a platter of scones and cookies.
Lin didn’t say it, but she feared the ghost would be worse off if she couldn’t help him. He’d found her, one of few people who could see spirits, and if she wasn’t able to offer help, would he lose hope? Would all be lost? What would happen to him then? The thought made Lin’s heart tighten with sadness.
Anton’s voice encouraging her to have some tea and a scone brought Lin back to the present and she poured a little milk into her cup and took a blueberry scone from the plate. The conversation turned to island happenings, the upcoming fall festival, what Anton was working on right now, and John’s interest in a new boat.
“I saw John down at the docks the other day,” Anton said. “He was showing his boat to a man and woman. I was surprised he was considering selling the sailboat. Where will he live, if he doesn’t have it anymore?” John had lived for years on his boat at the Nantucket docks.
Viv made a face. “He’s thinking of buying a cruiser.”
Anton leaned back in his chair. “Why a boat like that? I thought Jon preferred to sail.”
“So did I,” Viv said.
Lin teased, “Viv thinks John is having a mid-life crisis.”
Anton looked shocked. “The man is what? Thirty? Does that age constitute mid-life now? Then what does that make me? A dinosaur?”
Viv chuckled. “John isn’t having a mid-life crisis, although he’s acting like he’s at some kind of odd turning point.”
“Why do you say that?” Anton asked.
“He acts distracted when we’re together,” Viv said with a shrug. “I ran into him in town one day and he acted like I’d caught him doing wrong. It’s a bunch of little things like that.”
“The man must have a lot on his mind,” Anton attempted to defend John’s behavior. “Men do get distracted when they have a lot to think about. It takes a good deal of mental energy to ponder issues. Perhaps, John is simply buried in his work.”
“That sounds like John,” Lin agreed. “He works late, he always has new listings, he’s always showing properties. He’s ambitious and hard-driving.”
“Sometimes, he needs to take it easy,” Viv said. “He can’t go and go and not have consequences. I know he’s working hard to be successful and save money, but material things aren’t the most important part of life. I don’t know if he realizes that.”
Nicky jumped up, made a low growl in his throat, and trotted to the kitchen door that led out to Anton’s deck. The sun had set and the porch light had come on causing the outdoor furniture to cast shadows over the deck.
“What’s wrong, Nick?” Lin asked the small brown dog.
“He was just dreaming,” Viv said. “He thinks he heard something outside.”
Queenie stood up and jumped off of Viv’s lap to join her dog-friend at the screened door.
“Why don’t you two go out and sniff around.” Lin smiled and as she opened the door, a freezing shaft of air wrapped itself around her body. The cold was so sudden that she almost let out a gasp of surprise.
Through the open door, Lin glanced around the deck.
Nicky’s little tail thumped against the wood. Both animals stared at something in the yard.
A small object hurtled through the air and glimmered in the porch light as it flew past and then thunked against the teak table and with a clink, bounced off and came to rest on the deck.
“What was that noise?” Anton came up behind Lin who was standing at the screen door.
She stepped outside with Anton and Viv following her.
Viv pulled her sweater tight around herself and her eyes darted about the dark yard. “Was someone out near the gardens?” she asked with a shaky voice.
Lin spotted something in the corner of the deck and leaned down to pick it up.
Anton’s an
d Viv’s jaws dropped when they saw the shiny object in Lin’s hand.
“What is that?” Viv asked.
Anton tipped his head to get a better look and then his head popped up. “Well, well. Look at that, matey. It’s a gold doubloon.”
“A what?” Viv’s face screwed up.
“Pirate’s treasure, my dear,” Anton smiled. “Lin’s new friend must be trying to tell us something.”
4
Lin rode in the passenger seat of Leonard’s truck holding Nicky in her lap so he could sniff the air at the partially open window. The day was clear and dry with temperatures in the 70s and the landscaping partners were pleased they wouldn’t have to spend the workday in hot and humid conditions.
“How was your trip to Canter Island?” Leonard asked as he maneuvered the truck along the narrow lanes of Nantucket town.
“Do you have a couple of hours?” Lin asked with a joking tone. “It was eventful.”
Leonard raised a dark brow over his brown eye and gave his passenger a quick look. “In a good way or a bad way?”
“It depends on your perspective.” Lin went on to give some details of their visit to Canter explaining that she saw a ghost and that the next evening, the ghost-man showed up at Anton’s house to leave a gold doubloon on his deck.
“A doubloon? Was your ghost a pirate?”
“I don’t think so. I thought he seemed like he’d lived in the late 1800s.”
“How much is a gold doubloon worth today?” Leonard asked.
“Anton said a little more than two hundred dollars.”
Leonard shook his head. “You can never just have a relaxing outing with your friends, can you, Coffin?”
“Not often, no.” Lin looked out the window at the pretty houses and cottages they passed. “Someone always seems to find me.”
“You’re doing good helping the spirits, but they ought to coordinate their appearances so you can get a break in between them. The last ghost case was only a couple of weeks ago.”
“I know. That one wore me out.” Taking the elastic off her wrist and putting her long, brown hair into a ponytail, Lin let out a little sigh. “It made me lose hope in people.”