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Authors: Sheila Cole
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panels.
âWe should not set much stock in the things of this world. I would have had to sell it anyway when Joseph finishes his term. It is just as well that Dr. Carpenter offered me the money for it now. Truth be known, he paid me more than it was worth. I do not want to take charity from him, but he insists it is not charity. He tells me that he has admired it ever since he first set eyes on it.â
I did not ask her how we would pay Hale the thirty pounds due him when Josephâs apprenticeship was over. I was too relieved that I did not have to be parted from Mama and go into service to worry much about what would happen in five years. I would earn the money somehow.
SOMETHING STARES AT ME FROM THE CLIFF
Days and weeks passed without incident. I can remember little of that hard summer, except that somehow we endured. It was November again, a year since Papa was taken from us. I was walking along Church Cliff Walk intending to make my way down to the beach. It was quite a different scene from summer when the town was filled with visitors. In June, the deep blue sea stretched out against a paler blue sky, the air was warm, and there were groups of holidaymakers strolling along Church Cliff Walk in their light summer clothes. Now it was cold. Slate-colored clouds rolled across a lead sky. Except for me, the Walk was deserted. Down on the beach waves rushed headlong crashing against the base of the cliffs, threw spray high in the air, withdrew, and crashed again. The beach was impassable. But still I stayed on the cliffs, drawn by the wild force of the sea.
The clouds grew blacker, gulls cried as they circled overhead, a raindrop splattered on my nose and then another. I turned for home. I just reached the door as a clap of thunder announced the storm. The sky opened, letting loose a torrent. It rained steadily without letup for four days and for all that time the wind blew with gale force. âA real southwester,â Mama called it. I remained indoors wrapped up against the cold in Mamaâs wool shawl, listening to the wind driving the rain against the panes, rattling the shutters, and whistling through the eaves.
As soon as the rain let up I put on my clogs and dressed to go out collecting. âThe wind is still high, and it is dangerous near the cliffs now,â Mama warned.
Remembering that Papa always said that the best finds were made just after a storm, I was impatient to get down to the beach. But I soon found that Mama was right. Though the tide was out, the waves, pushed by the wind, made the beach impassable.
It was several more days before I had another chance to go down to the shore. Thrown this way and that by the waves, huge timbers, barrel staves, bricks, driftwood, seaweed, pieces of broken pottery, and even rags littered the beach. It was slow work to pick my way over them toward a new slide that looked promising.
The first thing I pulled out of the mound of clay, rock, and dirt was flat bottomed and domed on top. It might have been a fossil urchin, but I could not be sure because it was covered with sticky, wet clay. I took it over to a pool left behind by the tide and started to wash it off. As I was watching the clay cloud the water of the pool, I heard a roar and turned, in fright, only to see a mass of dirt and pieces of rock falling from the top of the cliff to the beach below. Scanning the cliff trying to decide whether it was safe for me to remain, I found myself staring at a grayish white circle with two slightly curved parallel lines beneath it. Looking at it, I had the strange feeling that it was staring back at me.
I stood there for what must have been several minutes waiting to see if more of the cliff was going to fall before I approached it to see what the circle was. Close up it was easier to see that it was a curiosity, but I did not recognize it as anything I had seen before. I took my hammer and chisel out of my pocket and gently worked the wet Lias near the
âWe should not set much stock in the things of this world. I would have had to sell it anyway when Joseph finishes his term. It is just as well that Dr. Carpenter offered me the money for it now. Truth be known, he paid me more than it was worth. I do not want to take charity from him, but he insists it is not charity. He tells me that he has admired it ever since he first set eyes on it.â
I did not ask her how we would pay Hale the thirty pounds due him when Josephâs apprenticeship was over. I was too relieved that I did not have to be parted from Mama and go into service to worry much about what would happen in five years. I would earn the money somehow.
SOMETHING STARES AT ME FROM THE CLIFF
Days and weeks passed without incident. I can remember little of that hard summer, except that somehow we endured. It was November again, a year since Papa was taken from us. I was walking along Church Cliff Walk intending to make my way down to the beach. It was quite a different scene from summer when the town was filled with visitors. In June, the deep blue sea stretched out against a paler blue sky, the air was warm, and there were groups of holidaymakers strolling along Church Cliff Walk in their light summer clothes. Now it was cold. Slate-colored clouds rolled across a lead sky. Except for me, the Walk was deserted. Down on the beach waves rushed headlong crashing against the base of the cliffs, threw spray high in the air, withdrew, and crashed again. The beach was impassable. But still I stayed on the cliffs, drawn by the wild force of the sea.
The clouds grew blacker, gulls cried as they circled overhead, a raindrop splattered on my nose and then another. I turned for home. I just reached the door as a clap of thunder announced the storm. The sky opened, letting loose a torrent. It rained steadily without letup for four days and for all that time the wind blew with gale force. âA real southwester,â Mama called it. I remained indoors wrapped up against the cold in Mamaâs wool shawl, listening to the wind driving the rain against the panes, rattling the shutters, and whistling through the eaves.
As soon as the rain let up I put on my clogs and dressed to go out collecting. âThe wind is still high, and it is dangerous near the cliffs now,â Mama warned.
Remembering that Papa always said that the best finds were made just after a storm, I was impatient to get down to the beach. But I soon found that Mama was right. Though the tide was out, the waves, pushed by the wind, made the beach impassable.
It was several more days before I had another chance to go down to the shore. Thrown this way and that by the waves, huge timbers, barrel staves, bricks, driftwood, seaweed, pieces of broken pottery, and even rags littered the beach. It was slow work to pick my way over them toward a new slide that looked promising.
The first thing I pulled out of the mound of clay, rock, and dirt was flat bottomed and domed on top. It might have been a fossil urchin, but I could not be sure because it was covered with sticky, wet clay. I took it over to a pool left behind by the tide and started to wash it off. As I was watching the clay cloud the water of the pool, I heard a roar and turned, in fright, only to see a mass of dirt and pieces of rock falling from the top of the cliff to the beach below. Scanning the cliff trying to decide whether it was safe for me to remain, I found myself staring at a grayish white circle with two slightly curved parallel lines beneath it. Looking at it, I had the strange feeling that it was staring back at me.
I stood there for what must have been several minutes waiting to see if more of the cliff was going to fall before I approached it to see what the circle was. Close up it was easier to see that it was a curiosity, but I did not recognize it as anything I had seen before. I took my hammer and chisel out of my pocket and gently worked the wet Lias near the
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