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Chapter Eighteen

Late August… 1679

Emma Ballard was a quick learner and by mid-summer was able to do much to assist at a birth. When Rebekah discovered Goodie Spencer, the cobbler’s wife was likely to deliver twins before winter, she decided it was time Emma took on more responsibility. They were both working in the herb garden when Rebekah shared the news.

“I am nearly certain Goodie Spencer will have twins, and I believe you are now ready to take the lead for one of the births. I will be with you during the whole of it, but as there are two babes to be born, I think it time you handle the first birth. I shall manage the second.”

Emma looked terrified. “There is no reason to be fearful,” Rebekah encouraged her. “You are well taught. One birth, two births? It is all the same, and as the woman has already given life to three other children in the last six years, I do not anticipate any trouble. If matters were otherwise, I would not burden you with the task.”

Emma swallowed and nodded. “I thank you for the faith you have shown in my abilities.”

“You will feel doubly grateful then,” Rebekah continued, “as I would like you to assist in my own delivery. I have sent word to Philippa Pritchett, the midwife who was my mentor. She has agreed to come and stay with us for a few days when my time is close. You will be assisting her.”

“Is she coming from a long distance?”

“Goodie Pritchett’s husband owns a large farm on the North shore. But they often come south to visit family and trade with the likes of Captain Crocker. She is a midwife and an expert herbalist and has much she can share with both of us. They should arrive within the week.

Several days later, John was just returning from a full day of digging quahogs and setting lobster traps when a flatbed wagon drawn by two horses pulled into the cottage yard. A thin man and a very stout woman sat together on the driver’s bench seat. As the wagon slowed to a stop, the man waved at John and jumped to the ground.

“Halloo. Is this the place where lives a Mistress Howland?”

John studied the stranger before answering.
“Who are you, sir? No one by that name lives here.”

“The woman I seek is a healer and a midwife. I was told she serves the women hereabouts.”

John relaxed. “You must be seeking Mistress Rand. Howland was her name but she is married near a year now and Rand is the new name by which she is known.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so, as I am the one who gave her the name.”

“Then might you be the husband?” the man asked, smiling.

“I might be.” John studied the man. “And you? Your name?” John asked.

“Name is Pritchett. William Pritchett. Just on from the North shore. My wife and I have traveled here on a mission of mercy. Philippa received a letter from your missus’ that her time of confinement is nearly complete. We are here to help in whatever way is most needed.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” John answered.

The woman turned and held out her hand to John. “Help me down if you will.”

John reached up and grasped the offered hand and helped the very stout Mistress Pritchett, descend from the wagon. She almost toppled over on the uneven ground. John waited for her to regain her balance and rearrange her skirts.

“If what Rebekah writes to me is true, you, sir, are soon to become a father. Do you deny it?”

John shook his head. “Not at all. I am favored with both wife and a child soon to be born.”

“And that is why we have come. To help you welcome the child into the world.”

“Then you are most welcome.”

John gestured towards the cottage door. “Please, if you will. You must be tired from your travels. Enter and take some refreshment. Give me a moment and I will call my wife. The last I saw of her, she was in the lower garden. It will only take a moment to fetch her.”

Mistress Pritchett raised her hand in protest. “No need. Point me towards the garden and I will fetch her myself.”

“But, dear, do you not want to rest a bit?” her husband asked.

Rather than answer, the stout Mistress Pritchett walked away briskly, heading towards the lower garden and the small figure in the distance bending over rows of vegetables.

John turned to Mister Pritchett. “Your wife seems very determined, sir.”

“That she is. When she sets her mind on a task, there is no denying her.”

The two men stood watching as the figure of Mistress Pritchett approached Rebekah. A cry of joy and surprise confirming the moment of recognition could be heard by both men from where they stood at the top of the garden.
John smiled broadly at Mister Pritchett. “It is good you have come. She needs a good friend near her at this time. I want to be of help to my wife, but as I am a man, I do not have the words.”

“Or the experience,” Pritchett added.

John nodded. “I am a simple fisherman. It is not for me to understand the mysteries of life …”

“Do not worry yourself, my boy. Philippa will see your wife through it all without fail.” He looked about. “Let’s go inside. I think it is more than time we test your groaning beer in preparation. What say you?”

John looked puzzled.

“Surely, you know about groaning beer? It is your duty to have it ready for the gossips and guests at such a time.”

“Gossips?”

“The women who come to help your wife… god’s witnesses as they are known… and your friends who come to offer congratulations… you must offer them a strong ale brewed for just such an event.”

“I know Rebekah has been brewing an ale most of this summer. She has yet to offer me a sample. But as it has been brewing for many weeks, I wager it should be strong enough by the time the babe is born.” John led the older man towards the shed. “She keeps the jugs in here out of the sun. I would like to offer you a drink but it is best we check with Rebecca first when she and your sweet wife return.”

William Pritchard agreed. “I have learned it is always best to check with the brew maker before sampling the brew.”

John opened the cabinet where Rebekah stored her jugs. “At the least we can check the color and fragrance of the mash.”

Both men leaned over the largest jug as John pulled the cork. “Smells delicious,” William declared. “Will be a grand brew in a day or two, I’m certain.” John agreed.

Just then the door to the shed swung open and Rebecca and Philippa entered. “And what are you two doing in my brewing shed?” asked Rebecca, a sly smile on her face. “No tasting for either of you before the brew is ready.”

Both men began to protest but Rebekah would have none of it. “Out with you both. Leave the jugs alone. “She turned to Philippa Pritchett. “This husband of mine is always poking about my brews.”

“Because your brews always taste fair,” John remarked. “Take it as a compliment, wife.”

“And I will take it as such. Meantime, John, why not walk Mr. Pritchett down the lane and show him your oyster beds. Supper will be ready within the hour.”

The two men headed off towards the shoreline and Philippa followed Rebekah into the house.

“Supper tonight will be a humble meal. Hasty pudding, I fear.”

“No trouble, dear. The day and time of our arrival was unexpected. Whatever you serve, will be welcome.”

Rebekah went to the cupboard and retrieved a sack of cornmeal and the salt jar. “If I add honey to the pudding would that be a problem for you or Mister Pritchett?”

“It would be welcome. I sometimes add molasses when we have it.” Philippa responded. “Or bits of maple sugar? I find mixing in a few raisins works well.”

“I fear we have no raisins. The honey will have to do.”

“All good.”

“And I have bread and cheese and a bit of rum we can share.”

“As I said, Rebekah, anything you serve will be fine. Tomorrow we will plan for when the babe comes. As for tonight, simple is best.”

The two women agreed and set about preparing the evening meal. By the time John and William Pritchett returned, all was ready and the four friends sat down to a hearty supper.

“You are looking quite well, Rebekah.”

The young woman moaned. “Truth be told, I am feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Just look at me.”

John smiled at his wife. “You look fine to me just as you are.” He turned to William Pritchett and whispered, “A healthy woman shows everyone we are doing well.” Pritchett nodded in agreement.

“You must be near to your time, Rebekah,” Philippa commented.

“Too close,” Rebekah sighed. “I shall be glad when it is done and I feel myself again.”

“Do not wish the time to move too fast, Rebekah. I wager you will soon long for these days of quiet without the cry of a child keeping you up half the night.”

“If the child cries at night,” Rebekah teased, “it will not be my tending to him. John has promised to take the night watch as he knows I will be tending to my patients through the day and will need my nights undisturbed.”

John laughed. “Dear wife, I think you are mistaken.”

Rebekah shook her head and smiled. “We shall see, dear husband, we shall see.” John grinned broadly but did not disagree.

The conversation continued late into the evening. Finally, Philippa stretched out her arms and gave a great yawn. “Please pardon me but it has been a very long day and the hour is late.”

“Of course, it is time we were all abed.” Rebekah agreed. “John and I thought it best that he and your William should share the loft during your visit. It is too much for me to climb up the ladder these days.”

“Of course, Rebekah. Whatever you think best.”

“You and I will share my bed here in the corner. We just need to pull the bed frame back from the wall and tighten the ropes.”

Within a few minutes, the bed was pulled out, the ropes pulled taught, the straw mattress fluffed and set within the wooden frame.

“The night air should be comfortable enough with the one blanket. But let me know if you need more.”

Rebekah turned to her husband. “The ladies are about to retire for the night. You two have the loft to yourselves or perhaps you and William would prefer the backyard bench for the night?”

John laughed. “Do not worry for us.” He leaned close to his wife and kissed her forehead. “We men are strong and shall survive well enough without your coddling.”