Read Online Crane Pond by Richard Francis - Free Book Online

breakfast, everyone is subdued—indeed tears roll down young Hannah’s cheeks, since she is the most softhearted of them all. Wife Hannah gives Sewall a meaningful glance. ‘I think, husband, that we need to draw a lesson from this sad event.’ For a moment Sewall’s heart pounds. Has she guessed his weakness? Perhaps he should confess it here and now, in front of his children, so that they know their father is a compromiser who sent pirates back to plague the seas. He looks at them in turn (though baby Mary is upstairs in her cradle, and Sam is oblivious over in Newton). Joseph would not understand. Betty is pale and tense already, no doubt worrying whether cows go to heaven or hell and which one she will find
her
self in in due course. Hannah clumsily wipes her eyes with the back of her hand—she would be frightened at the thought of bloodthirsty pirates on the loose.
    Confession will simply give the children an anxiety which by rights belongs to him. So instead he makes his prayer a general one, but concludes with an image appropriate to the fate of a dairy animal: ‘And may we trust in God, who will nourish our spirit and provide the breast of our supplies.’
    Hannah raises an eyebrow at the incongruity of God offering us His breast, but of course the deity is beyond, or rather inclusive of, gender difference. That must be so since men and women are both made in His image. This was explained to Sewall once by Cotton Mather, with much clearing of the throat and rolling of the eyes. He is interested in matters scientific as well as theological and is particularly happy when those two spheres come together. The vagina (Mr. Mather muttered) is a kind of penis in reverse; the ovaries are inward testicles. He was less certain about the womb, but there is a gland in the man’s body where the fertilising element is stored: perhaps that is a kind of womb. And of course both sexes have breasts, though the male kind is not made use of (but Thomas Bartolinus, in his
Historiarum Anatomicarum Rariorum
, writes of a Danish man whose breasts did contain milk).
    Because of this spiritual unity of the sexes Sewall can express the hope of one day being married to Jesus, though he often feels sad at the thought that in heaven he will no longer be married to Hannah, death being a kind of divorce.
    Â 
    A few days later Mr. Cotton Mather comes to call.
    He is wearing a large black cloak, the shoulders besprinkled with snowflakes, and big boots. Also a wig but a small one, perhaps as a concession to Sewall’s feelings, with a little bow at the back. In fact diminutive wigs annoy Sewall even more than voluminous ones since they mimic more closely the hair the wearer would actually have possessed if he hadn’t cut it off to make the wig fit snugly. ‘Mr. Sewall, how are you?’ he asks.
    â€˜Well enough, Mr. Mather. And you, I hope.’
    â€˜I am very well indeed, thank you.’ He gives a little bow of acknowledgement. Then springs it on Sewall. ‘Strange news from Salem.’
    Sewall can’t stop himself giving out a little groan. ‘Not those pirates?’
    Mr. Mather is taken aback in turn. ‘Which pirates?’
    â€˜Those reprieved pirates. Hawkins and the others.’
    â€˜No, no, not those—oh, but here’s another strange thing. Indeed I have it with me, I think.’ He digs into the pockets of his coat. ‘Yes, here it is, sent to me from England by my father.’ He takes out a sheet of paper and passes it to Sewall. ‘Take a look at that.’
    Sewall inspects it. ‘It’s a printed map of Boston harbour,’ he says.
    â€˜Yes, yes, of course. But look at the bottom to see who
fecit
.’
    Sewall screws up his eyes to read the small print at the bottom. ‘It was made by Pound,’ he says, ‘Thomas Pound.’ Then, in a whisper: ‘Thomas Pound.’
    â€˜The very one. He has been made a captain in the