Dillard Beach Mystery – 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Late May 1680

Monday morning dawned bright and sunny as Rebekah, carrying Ezra in a cloth sling that stretched from her shoulder to her hip, walked down the roadway towards Dillard Village. She had arranged to meet Emma near to the noon hour and was pleased to see her apprentice waving as she approached the Ballard home.

“I hope you have not been waiting long,” Rebekah said.

“I only stepped out a few moments ago.” Emma turned back towards the front door. “Look who has just returned home.” Charles Ballard stepped out onto the threshold and greeted Rebekah.

He made a slight bow. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Mistress.” He smiled at little Ezra who was curled into a ball and was sleeping comfortably. “I hope you and your son are well.”

“Both are well and happy sir, as you can see.” She turned towards Emma. “Thanks to the kindness of your good wife and our neighbors and friends.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Charles said. “I fear these past few months since John’s death have not been easy for you. But Emma has told me your reputation as a midwife has spread far and wide. I am most pleased you are able to serve as her teacher.”

“Your wife is a very good student and makes my job easy. Having her as my assistant is a blessing.” Rebekah answered.

“Let me wish you great success, then. I have only just sampled the jar of ointment you gave Emma and the effect is nothing short of miraculous.” He held out his hands. “See for yourself. My rough skin is healing quickly and blisters shrink before my eyes. Emma tells me you hope to show this salve to Captain Chapman.”

“I hope so,” Rebekah responded. “It is one purpose of this pilgrimage. Do you think he would be available to see me today?”

Charles looked from his wife to Rebekah. “Captain Chapman is a very busy man as you can imagine, but I think, with a little persuasion from me, I can arrange a meeting for you.”

“That would be most kind.”

“Give me a moment to hitch up the wagon and we can all travel to the harbor together.”

Within an hour they were in Hyannis, walking along the main street that ran from the center of the village to the waterfront. A large wooden building sat near the end of the pier, a neatly lettered sign affixed above the door, declared the owner as “Chapman.”

“Let me go in and see if the Captain is free to see us,” Charles said.

While they waited, Rebekah looked out at the bay. Two schooners were anchored in the harbor and she watched as workers were busy loading goods from a small pinnace into one of the ship’s holds. The activity reminded Rebekah of worker bees building a hive.

“Look at all the boats, Ezra.” She lifted Ezra to her shoulder and pointed to the schooners, their masts, and beams silhouetted against the sky and sails carefully furled against the breeze. “Are they not pretty, Ezra?”

A small dingy with a lone fisherman at the oars was crossing the main channel before heading out beyond the breakwater. Rebekah could not help but think of her late husband, John, and the many times he rowed these waters.

Her sadness was suddenly cut short as Ezra began to giggle. Rebekah turned to see Captain Chapman standing close by, making funny faces and grinning at her son. The boy smiled back responding with laughter.

“Captain! What are you doing?”

Chapman grinned and moved closer. “Your son looked like he could use a little laugh, so I decided to give him one. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I am just surprised to hear him laugh so loudly.” She hugged the baby and smiled.

“And you, Mistress? Do you laugh these days? I could not help but notice you have a look of some melancholy… — and on such a beautiful day. Tell me how I might brighten your day?”

She hesitated, not knowing exactly how to begin. “I am hoping you can help me, or offer your advice on a small matter.”

“Of course, as I have told you, I am happy to assist you in any way I can.” He gestured towards the front door of the building. “Perhaps we could talk in my office? It will be more private, than standing here on the dock.”

Rebekah nodded.

“Mistress Ballard, would you and your husband like to join us?”

Both Emma and Charles agreed.

Once seated in the front office, Chapman encouraged Rebekah to continue.

“I have been told by some of the people I meet and care for, that one of the ointments I make might serve others well in healing their wounds, especially those who work in the fields and here on the docks and that I should find a way to make it available to those beyond my circle of acquaintance.” She paused and took a breath, aware that her explanation was a bit long and might not be easily followed. But rather than look confused, Captain Chapman grasped her meaning immediately.

“You have something you have made and you wish to trade or sell?”

“I am not certain how these things are done, sir, but I welcome your advice.”

Charles Ballard spoke up. “Captain, it is a marvelous ointment guaranteed to soothe and heal. I myself have only just discovered its usefulness thanks to my dear wife and I recommend it wholeheartedly.”

“And what is this magical ointment?” Chapman asked.

“It is a salve made from the bark of the Tulip Tree.”

“And you make it yourself?”

“Yes, in small amounts. I offer it to my patients who suffer skin rashes and other ailments. They find it brings them comfort.”

“I see.” Chapman paused, considering what next to say. “I do not think I can be of any great help to you, Mistress Rand. You may be under the false impression that I am a merchant making countless arrangements with craftsmen and women who work from home. That is not true. I only deal with large traders and merchants along the southern coast. If you seek someone to help you distribute your product I am not that person. You are too small.”

Rebekah was startled at his blunt remark.

Charles interrupted. “Captain, I thought you might put in a good word for Mistress Rand.”

The Captain shook his head. “If a recommendation is what you seek, I would be happy to recommend your salve to my dock workers. Should I tell them to visit you in Dillard?”

“That is not acceptable.” Rebekah said. “I do not have any jars on hand and those I did have, I traded with William Boswell, the grocer in our village. He might still have a few jars to trade. You might send your workers to that establishment.”

Chapman waited, gathering his thoughts.

“Rebekah,” he paused and corrected himself. “Mistress Rand. I admire your work and your efforts to share your gift with others and I promise I will share news of your ointment. I am sorry I cannot be of greater help.” The Captain stood up signaling the end of the meeting.