Eight - THE MARKET
August 1716
Sam walked the bustling cobblestone streets of downtown Cape Cod, his long black hair standing out against a sea of white powdered wigs. The town bustled with people. Merchants set up small booths and canopies outside their brick and mortar stores. The tradition had started as a method for businesses to attract customers, but it had turned into more of a social event complete with music and food. People came for the spectacle as much as they did for business, although the latter was usually quite brisk.
Sam took in the scene, his eyes closing, breathing in the sweet, savory aroma of a nearby bakery. He stopped and looked at some hats that were far too ostentatious, but he got a chuckle out of them. Fashion wasn’t lost on Sam, but he was motivated by his own taste rather than relying on the standards of the masses. He continued past a display of wigs to a shoe cobbler in the middle of his work.
Sam watched for a moment, drawn to the man’s attention to such intricate detail. He looked down at his own shoes and bent them up at the toes a little. He moved his leg about to get a better view of each side and then clicked them against the cobblestones.
“If it’s an excuse you’re looking for, may I suggest you divert your eyes nor’ nor’ east.” Sam looked up at the old man still working away on his shoe. The man had a patch covering one eye and a menacing scar that stretched from his forehead to his cheek. He had a weathered look about his face, as if he had seen excessive amounts of wind and sun. His hair was thin and gray, but he still looked able and strong.
Nor’ nor’ east? Could he be an old sailor? Sam took the man’s advice and turned to the given coordinates. There, staring at him, were three young women, giggling and gawking. When he made eye contact with them, they turned away quickly. He turned back to the old man. “How can you tell it was my shoes they found humor in? Could it not have been that they were attracted to something else?”
The old man studied Sam. His one eye was as intense as any other's set of two. “Every man’s shoes have stories to tell. What story do you think yours are telling them?”
A grin slid across Sam’s face. “That I’m wise for not falling for the tricks of savvy salesmen.”
The old man laughed. “Just trying to make a living is all.”
“How is the living?”
“I’m much better at making shoes than selling them, I’m afraid.” The old man gave Sam a wink.
“My name is Samuel Bellamy.” Sam offered his hand and the cobbler took it.
“Jeremiah Codington.”
“How long have you cobbled shoes, Jeremiah?”
“Well, roughly twenty or so years now. After the loss of my eye to French shrapnel, I came home and took over the family business.”
“Do you miss it?” Sam asked. “Sailing, that is.”
Jeremiah finished tapping a nail into the leather sole of a shoe. “Sometimes I wish I could get back out there. I still have some sailor left in me.”
Sam picked up a shoe that had already been finished. “Of that I have no doubt.”
“But, it seems to have passed me by, so here I am,” Jeremiah said.
“Making quality shoes for fellow sailors.” Sam sat the shoe back onto the table.
“That’s right...oh… you’re a sailor?”
Sam clapped his shoes together. “And a new customer if you’ll have me.”
“Of course, come around here. Let’s get you measured,” the cobbler said with renewed interest. “Take a seat and your shoes off.”
Sam sat on a three-legged leather stool and took off his shoes. Jeremiah whipped out his measuring stick and rolled up his sleeves a bit, revealing tattoos that were poorly drawn. “Are you navy or merchant?” he asked, continuing his work.
“Started out fishing and then spent some time on a couple of merchant ships; currently I’m working on a different venture.”
“Oh?” Jeremiah raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, we’re heading south to...” Sam put a finger across his mouth as if to ponder his next words.
Jeremiah returned to Sam’s shoes. “Secret, eh… now you’ve got my curiosity peaked.”
Sam watched Jeremiah measure the length of one foot. “It’s not a secret.”
“I suppose it’s none of my business.” The cobbler wrote down the last measurement. “All right young man, I believe I have what I need.”
Sam stood and walked to the front of the display table. He took a few coins from a pouch and handed them to Jeremiah.
“This is too much,” Jeremiah said handing them back to Sam.
Sam closed Jeremiah’s hand, pushing it away. “How serious were you about getting back out to sea?”
Jeremiah looked up perplexed and then eased into a slight smile.
***
“Who knows what they’re talking about?” A young woman looking through a spyglass watched Sam talk to the shoemaker. “He could be a French spy or one of my father’s enemies.” She lowered the scope and turned to a dark-haired girl lying on the grassy hill next to her. “That would explain his ill-mannered approach at the cemetery.”
“Maria, if this man is as treacherous as you now make him out to be, then why, when you told me about the cemetery, did you have that look upon your face?”
Maria turned back to look through the scope. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The dark-haired girl put on a smile and closed her eyes. “Oh Sara you should have seen him, so handsome and strong.”
Maria slapped Sara’s arm. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. It was all in that look.”
“What look? I didn’t have a look.”
Sara pointed to Maria’s face. “That look. It’s like your whole body is smiling, and your face can’t quite cover it up.”
Maria’s brows furrowed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Sara giggled. “The angry eyes only help accentuate your smiling face.”
Maria rolled her eyes and looked back through the scope. She thought that she should feel a little more guilt about spying on this stranger, but his intrusion on her in the cemetery evened things out a bit. Besides, she had to see what kind of man he truly was when not trying to impress a woman. A task fit only for a spy. He was well dressed, if maybe a bit out of fashion preferring not to wear a powdered wig.
It seemed like a rebellious statement that she understood. Balancing conformity with free will was something she had been experimenting with herself inside the world of a freshly presented debutant in polite society. He was handsome no question, but he’s the kind of man mother and father would reject for so many reasons, namely social standing. This realization made her even more interested.
“May I look?” Sara asked as she reached for the spyglass.
Maria held it away from her. “Wait just a moment.”
“Do you want my unbiased opinion or not?” Sara asked.
Maria sighed. “I’m not sure anymore.”
Sara yanked the scope out of Maria’s hands and lifted it to her eye. “Oh my,” she said.
Maria sighed and rolled her eyes again.
“He is gorgeous,” Sara exclaimed. “If he’s your enemy, then I don’t want to be your friend.”
Maria reached to take the scope back. “That is quite enough—”
“Hold on.” Sara held Maria off with her free hand. “He seems confident, genuine—”
“I knew this was a bad idea.” Maria shook her head.
“On the contrary, it was an excellent idea.” Sara still looked through the scope.
Maria grabbed it out of Sara’s clutches.
“Ouch.” Sara put her hand over her eye.
“You deserved it.” Maria looked again.
Sara watched Maria study the young man. “You are enamored with him.”
After a second, Maria lowered the scope. “What?”
“It’s easy to see why; he is ruggedly handsome and romantic.” Sara closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. “What more could a girl want?”
Maria scoffed. “Stay with me, Sara. You are still on my side, aren’t you?”
Sara snapped out of it. “There are sides?”
“And how do you know if he’s romantic?” Maria twirled a ringlet of hair.
“The way you described him at the cemetery is about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Sara said.
Thinking back to that moment Maria remembered the tall, handsome stranger with long black hair… and that smile. He had put himself in such a vulnerable situation and made a mess of his introduction, but he didn’t seem bothered or stifled by it. He just laughed at himself and continued. It was quite romantic.
“Maria.” Sara motioned toward Sam. “He’s heading to one of your father's stores.”
Maria shrugged. “So?”
Sara sat up and straightened her dress, pulling it down a bit in the bust. “This is your chance to see him again.”
Maria watched Sara fix her dark curly hair. “What makes you think I want to see him again?”
“You can at least introduce him to me.” Sara grabbed her friend's arm.
Maria shook her off. “Even if I did want to see him, which I don’t, it should be him coming to me.”
“Ugh, you silly girl.” Sara jumped up and hurried down the hill toward Sam. Maria cried out for her to stop, to no avail. She thought of running in the other direction but could not bring herself to do it. She bit her lip and went after Sara.
Maria took Sara’s arm as they walked together on the cobblestone street. “How do I look?”
Sara straightened some of Maria’s dark blonde hair. “You are pretty as ever.”
A young man operated a booth setup just outside the Hallet Tailor Shop. Maria passed by the dark-haired stranger she and Sara spied on, and then moved around to the other side of the booth where the young man stood. “I’m here now Joseph. You can take your break.” She busied herself with trivial tasks around the booth.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance Joseph,” the dark-haired man said giving a slight bow.
Joseph returned the gesture. “Glad to meet you Mr. Bellamy.”
“Please, call me Sam.”
Joseph nodded and walked away.
Sara stood right in front of Sam. “Hello, my name is Sara.” Her smile could not possibly have been any bigger.
“Pleased to meet you Sara.” Sam took her hand and gave it a kiss. “My name is Samuel Bellamy.” Sam looked past Sara to the girl who was making it a point to hide her face.
Sara stepped back into his view. “Are you new to the Cape?”
Sam returned his gaze back to Sara. “I’ve been here for a few months. It’s a beautiful place.”
As Maria unfolded, and re-folded material, she stole a glance at Sam.
“So, Mr. Bellamy, did you come here for the festivities or just to buy some shoes?” Sara beamed.
“I just came to…” Sam looked down at his shoes and then back toward the shoemaker. “Were you spying on me?”
Maria stood up quickly. “All right, Sara, the material is in order— oh, hello,” she said to Sam with an overdone look of surprise. She smiled then offered her hand to him. It was a little awkward over the booth, so she walked around to his side.
“It’s you.” Sam pulled her hand to his bowed head and kissed it.
“Have you seen anymore fallen angels?” As soon as the words left Maria’s mouth, she wished them back.
Sam chuckled. “Are you making fun of me?”
“On the contrary, it was a valid question.”
“Was it?” Sam showed a hint of a smile.
Its genuineness relaxed Maria. She shrugged her frilly shoulders. “More or less.”
Sara grinned and began organizing the same material Maria had just organized.
Sam took a step closer to Maria “May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t?” Again, Maria wished she could take the words back. “I didn’t mean that.”
“What did you mean?”
“Um.” Maria paused to think of the right words.
“Her name is Maria Hallet,” Sara said as she continued with the inventory.
Sam looked up at the sign on the front of the store. It read “Hallet Tailor & Co.” Then he glanced across the street to another sign: “Hallet Mercantile.” “I see.”
Maria turned, gave Sara an angry look, and then looked back to Sam. “So now that you know who I am, shouldn’t you be running away?”
Sam shrugged. “Why would I?”
“They always do” Maria lowered her head.
Sam stepped even closer. “I don’t need to know your name to know who you are.”
Maria’s face softened as Sam’s words sank in. His sincerity penetrated her defenses, leaving her speechless staring into his eyes. A feeling of comfort came over her, as if she had known him all of her life. It was a sudden rush of feelings, and the world around her began to spin. Sam’s face was the only thing that remained unchanged— clear— beautiful.
“Maria darling,” a man said with a posh accent.
Maria recognized the voice and its haughty tones, but she could not replace the image of Sam’s face with the one behind the voice, nor did she intend to.
“Maria!” It was now a commanded. Maria snapped back to reality. Captain Cyprian Southack stood not more than a yard from her. Tall, skinny, and his face void of the tenderness she saw in Sam.
“Maria, are you ill?” Cyprian asked.
“No, Cyprian, I’m fine. Thank you.” Maria walked back around the booth.
“You look a little flushed; maybe you should lie down and rest.”
Maria touched her face. It did feel warm. She shot a guilty look at Sam, who was the cause the warmth.
Cyprian walked around and put his hands on her waist.
“Captain Southack!” Maria said in formality. “I’m fine.”
The Captain seemed to shrink in his red coat.
Maria softened a bit. “Thank you, Cyprian.” She took his hand. “I assure you, I’m quite all right.”
Sam looked away.
Cyprian turned toward Sam but did not acknowledge his presence. “Your parents invited me over this afternoon for tea and a bit of sport. You are going to be there, aren’t you?”
“Of course I will be. Sara and I will both be there. Isn’t that right, Sara?” Maria looked at Sara with wide eyes.
Sara smiled and set down the material she was handling. “I’ll be there on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“That our new friend Sam Bellamy joins us.”
Maria hid her smile well as she looked at Sam. “What a splendid idea.”
Sam scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know if that’s—”
“Afraid of a little competition?” Maria asked with a mischievous grin. She hoped he would see the challenge as more than just a game.
“Please, Sam, we need a fourth for battledore and shuttlecock,” Sara continued.
“Isn’t that a child’s game?” Sam asked.
Cyprian scoffed. “It’s a game of skill and coordination, but I’m sure you wouldn’t under—”
“Sam, please?” Sara begged.
Sam smiled at Sara. “I suppose I must.”
Sara giggled and hugged Maria. “Wonderful.”
Maria glanced at Sam who gave her a secret smile. Her insides were aflame with excitement. She took Sara’s hand, and they both squeezed in silent celebration. “Excellent. Then we’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Sam, would you mind staying here while Maria closes up shop?” Sara asked.
“I’d be happy to.”
Sara turned to Maria “Maybe you could take his measurements for sport.”
Maria blushed at the thought. “Where are you going?”
“Cyprian is escorting me home.” Sara handed some material to Maria.
“I am?” Cyprian asked.
“I need to get ready for tonight. You are still my partner in shuttlecock, are you not?”
“Well I was hoping—”
“Good. We must be going. We’ll see you two tonight,” Sara said to Sam and Maria.
Cyprian shook his head. “I don’t think this—”
Sara hooked Cyprian’s arm with hers. “You don’t want to lose to Maria again do you?”
“No, but—”
“Okay, then let’s go get ready.” Sara pulled him away.
“You’ve got interesting friends,” Sam said after they left.
Maria laughed and turned to Sam “Sara has been my hand maiden for years, but she’s more of a sister. A meddling little sister.”
Hands behind his back, Sam slowly rounded the booth. “I like her.”
“You do? And what do you like about her?”
“Well, she is spirited, and she has wonderful ideas.”
Maria smiled and shook her head. “You don’t need to stay with me, I’ll be fine.”
“As much as I believe you, I agreed to stay and so I will.”
Thunder growled in the distance. They both looked up as rain began to fall.
“Help me get this inside?” Maria asked.
“Of course,” Sam said picking up the material.
***
Inside the shop sitting amongst piles of fabric, Sam and Maria sat folding and sorting the now damp material. Sam sat the last of his material in a finished pile and watched Maria as she patiently finished hers. She took her time making sure the creases were straight and clean. He looked at her pile and then his. “You’re much better at this than I am.”
“I have more experience at it than you.”
“Yes, and more patience,” Sam said.
“That too.” Maria finished folding and then sat on one of the tables used to lay out material.
“Now what?” Sam asked.
“I’m half tempted to close up early, but my father hates it when I do.”
“I know how we can pass the time,” Sam said, taking off his coat.
Maria’s brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t know what type of woman you think I am, Mr. Bellamy, but if you—”
Sam held his hand out, and in his palm laid a string used for measuring. “Take my measurements?”
“Oh.” Maria blushed. “Yes, of course.” She pointed to his vest. “You may continue.”
She watched him unbutton his vest and remove it. Grabbing the top of his shirt, he pulled it up over his head.
Maria diverted her eyes. “That’s not necessary Mr. Bellamy.”
Sam held the shirt in his hand. “I can put it back on if it makes you uncofortable.”
Maria looked at him, and then raised her eyes to his. “I can handle it if you can.”
Sam chuckled. “Of course.”
Maria took the string from him. “Where are you from Mr. Bellamy?”
“Would you please call me Sam?”
Maria shrugged and started measuring. “I’ll think about it.”
“So how long were you and Sara spying on me?”
Maria’s face turned red. “Excuse me.”
“Don’t pretend
“Oh, I’m not that complicated.”
Maria measured one of his arms from shoulder to wrist, then the other one. She wrote a number on a piece of paper and continued. “Yes, men are either gentlemen or deviants. It’s figuring out which that is the complication.”
“It’s either one or the other? A man can’t be somewhere in the middle?”
She lifted one of his arms out straight.
Sam took a quick breath. “Your hands are cold.”
“Sorry, poor circulation.” She wrote again on the paper.
“That would suggest that all men have some evil in them. That’s too horrible to believe.”
“Yes, if you look at it that way, then perhaps.”
Maria extended the string down Sam’s side. He flinched and turned his body.
“Sorry.” She rubbed her hands together as she blew warm air into them.
“No, it wasn’t your hands… well it was your hands, but it wasn’t… never mind, I’ll hold still.”
Maria ran the line down his side again. He held straight but took another quick breath when her hand touched his waist.
Maria continued. “What other way is there to look at it?”
“Pardon?” Sam asked while focusing on her hand position. “Oh, well I think there is some good in each person, but I also think that everyone makes mistakes.” Sam flinched again when she brushed a finger across the same spot on his opposite side.
“Some mistakes are worse than others,” she said, writing on the paper.
“True enough.”
Maria stretched the cord out. “So how do you determine if a person is more evil than good…by how many mistakes they make?”
“No, I don’t think it’s a contest.” He paused as she wrapped the tape around his waist. Her hands were no longer cold; in fact, they were quite warm. He looked at her face, but she didn’t meet his gaze. “I think you can’t judge a man by his actions alone. His intentions, or rather, what’s in his heart plays a large role in determining a man’s worth.”
Maria took a deep breath and wrote down more numbers.
“Do you disagree?” Sam asked, sounding curious.
Without looking at him, she shook her head. “No… I agree with you.” She dropped the quill back in the reservoir. “Okay that’s it.”
“What about the trousers?”
Maria bit her lower lip. “Neither one of us are ready for that.” She dropped the quill back in the reservoir. “One more measurement” She turned around and faced Sam. “Raise your arms up please.” Maria helped him raise his arms out straight. She had to get close to reach around his wide chest.
Sam breathed in the scent of her hair. “You smell nice.”
“Thank you.” She released the string and wrote down the measurement.
“Maria,” Sam said low and soft.
“Yes,” she said without looking up.
“Why won’t you look at me?”
She hesitated for a moment, and then looked up at him with a firm jaw. “Yes?”
Sam removed the string from her hand. He raised her delicate fingers to his lips and kissed her soft, alabaster skin. Maria’s breathe quickened when he took her other hand and pulled her close. He raised her arms, and she put them around his neck.
“Sam” Maria said in a whisper.
“Trust me.” He started to sway. They moved slowly, almost imperceptibly so. They stared into each other’s eyes, moving to the music that wasn't playing. After a moment, Sam pulled away a little. “I’d better get you home.”
“Yes of course,” she said still staring into his eyes. “Thank you Sam.”
“For what?”
“Showing me the intentions of your heart.”
Sam smiled as Maria wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head against his chest. Her hands flat against his warm upper back moved down to his sides. She took a deep breath as she gripped the sides of his shirt, and then turned her face toward him, her nose and mouth almost touching his chest. Her quickened breath synchronized with his.
She moved her hands to his stomach, letting them feel the contour of the muscle rippling from below. Slowly she moved them up to his chest and pushed him away. Her breath shuddered as she slapped his chest then turned away. “You should put on your coat.”