Dillard Beach Mystery – 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

July, 1683

The meeting house bell was ringing the noon hour when Captain Edward Chapman stood outside his warehouse to meet the flatbed wagon arriving from Dillard. The driver climbed down and declared “Delivery for Chapman.” The Captain nodded and stepped forward to examine the contents of the flatbed. The wagon was filled with boxes, each marked with a label. “Rand’s Skin Balm – 10.” He quickly counted the boxes. Eleven. If Rebekah had packed her jars ten to a box, that would equal 110 jars—more than he had ordered. Rebekah had done what neither of them believed possible.

“Where shall I put your boxes, sir?” the driver asked.

“One of my workers will see to it.” He handed the man a coin. “Take yourself to the tavern for a pint before you return to Dillard. The sun is high and you must be thirsty.” The man gave a nod and happily took the offered coin.

Chapman called to one of the dock workers and gave him instructions for unloading the wagon and storing the boxes. He was just about to enter his office when Rebekah called to him from the road. She was on horseback with her son Ezra seated in front of her. “Good day, Rebekah. Your wagon just arrived.”

“Did you see how many boxes?” she asked, not attempting to hide her pride.

“I do not know how you accomplished the task, but I am glad for it. Every jar of ointment will sell.”

He reached up and helped Ezra down from Pacer. “You look quite grand, young man, seated on such a stallion. Did you enjoy the ride from Dillard?”

Ezra grinned and nodded his head. “Your son seems easy in the saddle, Rebekah. I wonder he will be riding on his own before too long.”

Rebekah dismounted. “A bit longer, I think, Captain. Four years is a little  young for a child to handle his own mount.”

“I wager he will be riding Pacer on his own within the year. Ezra is growing up  fast.” The boy grinned at the Captain. “Would you like me to show you one of my sailboats, Ezra?” He was talking to the boy but asking the mother at the same time. Chapman looked at Rebekah directly. “Do you mind if I bring the boy down to the dock?”

Rebekah studied her business partner. “Be certain to keep a sharp eye. His eagerness to see and explore everything might be more than you can handle.”

“If I can handle a dozen seamen on a voyage to the West Indies, I believe I can manage a four year old.” He gave Rebekah a broad smile. “You should rest a bit in my office while we two explore. There is tea and biscuits on the sideboard. We shall return directly.”

Within the hour the Captain returned to the warehouse with Ezra in tow, their hands firmly clasped together. Ezra tugged on Chapman’s arm, pulling him forward. The Captain, for his part, looked exhausted. He let go of Ezra’s hand and collapsed into one of the chairs by his desk.

“Your son is certainly eager to explore, Rebekah.”

“I attempted to warn you, Captain. Ezra is one eager boy, ready for any adventure.”

“Too much adventure. He had me running fore and aft along the docks, nearly falling into the harbor at least twice.”

Rebekah laughed, enjoying Chapman’s discomfort. “Did you take him on board The Caroline?”

“I did and he was most eager to try his hand at the wheel.”

“So you captained your own ship, Ezra?” Rebekah teased.

“Yes, mama. I was the captain and we sailed far, far away and then we came back.”

“Well, I am very glad you did. I would surely miss you if you were gone too long or sailed too far away.”

The boy hugged his mother and smiled. “Next time, you come too.”

Rebekah patted Ezra’s head, pulling him closer. “Perhaps, Ezra.” She looked at Chapman before answering. “Things are a bit stormy now for me. I need to wait for a patch of clear weather.”

“Stormy?” Chapman asked. “No clouds in the sky this day, I see naught but good passage ahead for us.”

Rebekah ignored his remark and turned to her son. “Ezra, you must be very tired after your long voyage on The Caroline. Here is bit of sweet bread for you to enjoy. Why don’t you go rest on the long bench while the Captain and I talk.”

Ezra happily took the slice of sweet bread, settled himself on the long bench,  and was soon fast asleep. 

“You believe things around you are stormy, Rebekah?” Chapman asked, wondering at her latest remark. “Are you not satisfied with all you have accomplished? I never thought you could deliver the 100 jars of ointment by end of summer. But you have done it and more besides. How did you manage it? It appears no less than a miracle.”

“Not a miracle. And not luck either. To meet the demand for 100 jars of Rand’s Skin Balm, I knew I needed both supplies and more hands for the making of the ointment. Emma was more than willing to help me, but even the two of us working together could not meet the order on time. It would take weeks to grow enough lavender. Time we did not have. As for hiring help for making the ointment? I would need to first find the workers and then teach them properly. After consideration, I came to realize I already had a circle of women, friends, and past patients who might be willing to help. I created a pamphlet with all the particulars and offered a jar of balm for free to anyone willing to donate their lavender to the cause and could spare a few hours for the making of the ointment.”

“How many women did you contact?”

“I sent word to all my patients. In the last year, I have delivered babies for more than fifty women in and around Dillard Village. Most have gardens, and most of those gardens are filled with lavender. It is a very popular herb. All but one of the women were happy to help me create the balm.”

“Then it was most fortunate for you. With the jars and beeswax I supplied you had what was needed to meet the order and with jars to spare,” Chapman concluded. “But still I do not understand. Where are these storm clouds you speak of?”

Rebekah considered how best to tell what she knew to be true.

“There are now rumors. Perhaps I should pay them no heed, but Emma tells me on good authority that Minister Warren and a few of the village elders are concerned with my circle of women. I gathered them for the purpose of making the balm, but wagging tounges have now invented sinister plots and think me causing foul deeds to manifest wealth for myself. There are hints at witchcraft.”

“Nonsense!” declared Chapman. “They are jealous of your success and seek to sow seeds of discontent to bring you low. Discount their remarks for what they are: jealous gibberish, meaning nothing.”

“You do not think I should speak out against the rumors?”

“I would not honor this foolishness with anything less than what it deserves: your silence. Let the rumors run their course. The people of Dillard know you to be nothing less than an honorable woman. Nothing will come of it and the rumors will fade away as the morning fog.”

“I truly hope so,” Rebekah responded.