Chapter Thirty-Three
October, 1682
It was after Philippa’s visit that Rebekah became more determined than ever to make her own way in the world. Her midwifery practice was growing and with Emma as an apprentice, they were busy helping women give birth throughout the coastal villages. She continued to grow the plants required for her medicinals and used many in her work. If a woman required medicine after delivery, Rebekah was happy to offer a jar or tincture for a coin or two. Word spread that the midwife could supply a woman with helpful remedies and Rebekah’s reputation as a healer grew.
Fortunately, her need for independence did not deter her from asking for advice or making plans with a man like Captain Chapman. She understood his influence was important to her monetary success and she was fortunate to be able to consult with him often. For his part, the Captain recognized her talent in knowing which ointments and tinctures were needed by the local population and left her to develop the medicinal products on her own. He focused on the economics.
Chapman made certain Rebekah’s remedies were sold at the Aptuxcet Trading Post and at several village stores along the southern coast and the islands.
“We need a name, Rebekah,” Chapman declared.
“A name? For what, pray tell?” Rebekah looked across the large table in the Hyannis warehouse at Captain Chapman who sat opposite, scanning through his ledgers, making notations. She and Ezra had arrived at the port that morning for a meeting and the boy was restless. He was eager to explore the boxes stored against the far wall.
“Ezra, stop poking about. Come and sit by my side,” Rebekah chided the boy.
“Let him wander if he so wishes. There is little he can harm.”
“I’m not worried about your stack of boxes, Captain, but of his arms and legs. I would not want a crate to become unbalanced and fall on him.”
Within a few short years, Chapman had joined Rebekah in her medicinal creation enterprise and they had become business partners of a sort. He advanced the initial funding for supplies such as beeswax, honey and small jars. Her talent for making ointments and remedies and his skill in finding custom had resulted in a small but growing company. The money Chapman took home was as nothing to his bank balance but the increase in Rebekah’s income was significant and allowed her to afford necessary improvements to her property. She was able to hire the son of Farmer Birch to build out the old shed with a workspace large enough to accommodate a new hearth for mixing and boiling her recipes and a keeping room with drying racks for all the plantings. She even had money enough to build Pacer his own stall.
On this morning, Chapman glanced across the warehouse at the small crates piled up against the outer wall. The boxes had only arrived the day before, each full of Rebekah’s ointments he had ordered for trade in both Boston and New York.
“Your shipment arrived yesterday and will be sent out by next mid-week. But not before we add a name to each and every jar.”
“To what purpose?”
“For safety’s sake and for the increase in our revenue,” Chapman explained. “In the beginning, our sales were few and far between and you could manage production on your own, but your ointment is now in demand and, we have hired workers to produce enough ointment to meet that demand. Customers need to know what is in the jars of ointment we sell. Marking the jar with a label printed in bold letters can only spread our reputation. So we need a name.”
Rebekah sat listening as the Captain continued. “I have a suggestion I believe might serve as a solution. “Balm of Dillard.”
Rebekah looked up quickly, a frown upon her face. “That will not do,” she said. My benefactor, Simon Dillard would never allow it. And using another person’s name on my salve is not acceptable to me. It does nothing to explain what the balm is used for.”
Rebekah sat, thinking of alternatives, but nothing came to mind.
Chapman thought for a moment longer. “I suggest the name be very simple, but memorable. What do you think of ‘Rand’s Balm.’ You, as the creator get the credit and the word “Balm” suggests the contents.”
“What do you think of ‘Rand’s Skin Balm?’” Rebekah countered, testing the sound of the words.
Chapman considered the name, then smiled and nodded at Rebekah. “Yes, I think that will do. Your name is on the jar and it serves to describe the contents.” She agreed.
“I will have the local printer make up the labels. One of the dock boys can glue them to the jars and out the door they go. We will be in business!”