Read Online The Old Cape Teapot by Barbara Eppich Struna - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Eppich Struna
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the veranda’s door, he politely said, “If you need anything, please do not hesitate to summon me. My name is Tobey.”
“Of course.” Davis quickly turned and called after the servant, “BOY! Tell the overseer that I want to speak with him as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” Tobey obediently answered, swallowing his true feelings. He hated being called ‘boy’. His name was Tobey. Someday he’d be able to correct rude people. He closed the door on Davis and rubbed his shirt, which hid a bumpy scar across his chest. It always ached when he found himself upset. A show of disrespect seemed to bother him the most.
Caroline passed him in the corridor. Tobey greeted the Smiths’ new acquisition with a smile. Each year, the Smith family would buy three slaves from the neighboring Codrington Plantation on the Island of Barbuda. It was a stronghold of land and houses that had been bequeathed by Christopher Codrington upon his death to the Church of England in 1710. Now it was a place where slaves were held and ‘seasoned’. The captured slaves became property of the Society of the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (or the SPG) and branded with the word ‘Society’ across their chests. It was common knowledge that slaves in their first three years of captivity were fed well and given light labor. If they survived and did not commit suicide, they were destined for hard labor on other sugar plantations owned by the church.
Tobey touched the scar on his chest. He was restless. His life of servitude was becoming unbearable. He acknowledged that the Smiths had always been good to him but he wanted more; he wanted his freedom. As he searched for the overseer, John Julian, on the main floor, he held back the resentment for his state in life and followed through with his orders from Davis. When Tobey reached the second floor of the house, he saw John Julian close the door on young Isaac Smith, who was resting on the cool sheets of his bed.
“Excuse me, sir. Mr. Davis requests a meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”
Julian whispered, “Thank you, Tobey. You may leave now.”
“Yes, sir.” Tobey lowered his head and turned to walk away. His face furrowed into a frown; he was worried about his future. He knew that Isaac Smith was here to sell the family plantation.
It was one of Tobey’s duties to open and close doors and windows throughout the mansion to monitor its temperature. After dinner was over and the night air began to cool the many rooms of the big house on the hill, Tobey heard loud voices coming from Davis’s room. He slipped into the vacant adjoining room and opened the veranda doors a crack to listen as two men argued. He heard Julian’s voice yell, “I tell you Davis, it’s there. You MUST do as I ask!”
Then Davis acquiesced. “I suppose I could help you, but how will I find it?”
“I’ve drawn a map.”
Tobey stepped further out onto the veranda.
There was a slight hesitation in Davis’s voice. “I don’t know if I can do this for you. I have a wife now, and I’m well known in the community, I’m not sure….”
Scuffling broke the still of the night.
In a small window on the multi-paned door of Davis’s room, Tobey could see Julian’s reflection as he curled his hands around Davis’s neck. There was a gasp then a gurgling noise.
“Remember, my friend,” Julian said as he squeezed tighter, “I’m the only one who knows of your secret.”
“You wouldn’t, you swore to me,” Davis pleaded.
Julian continued to threaten. “I won’t hesitate to inform the authorities on Cape Cod about your part in the untimely death of Sam Bellamy…and whoever else happened to be in the house on the night of the fire.”
Tobey pressed his back against the side curtain of the door. Curious for more information, he leaned forward again, beyond the dark room, for a better view and saw Julian push Davis up against the outside wall. With clenched teeth, Julian
“Of course.” Davis quickly turned and called after the servant, “BOY! Tell the overseer that I want to speak with him as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” Tobey obediently answered, swallowing his true feelings. He hated being called ‘boy’. His name was Tobey. Someday he’d be able to correct rude people. He closed the door on Davis and rubbed his shirt, which hid a bumpy scar across his chest. It always ached when he found himself upset. A show of disrespect seemed to bother him the most.
Caroline passed him in the corridor. Tobey greeted the Smiths’ new acquisition with a smile. Each year, the Smith family would buy three slaves from the neighboring Codrington Plantation on the Island of Barbuda. It was a stronghold of land and houses that had been bequeathed by Christopher Codrington upon his death to the Church of England in 1710. Now it was a place where slaves were held and ‘seasoned’. The captured slaves became property of the Society of the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (or the SPG) and branded with the word ‘Society’ across their chests. It was common knowledge that slaves in their first three years of captivity were fed well and given light labor. If they survived and did not commit suicide, they were destined for hard labor on other sugar plantations owned by the church.
Tobey touched the scar on his chest. He was restless. His life of servitude was becoming unbearable. He acknowledged that the Smiths had always been good to him but he wanted more; he wanted his freedom. As he searched for the overseer, John Julian, on the main floor, he held back the resentment for his state in life and followed through with his orders from Davis. When Tobey reached the second floor of the house, he saw John Julian close the door on young Isaac Smith, who was resting on the cool sheets of his bed.
“Excuse me, sir. Mr. Davis requests a meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”
Julian whispered, “Thank you, Tobey. You may leave now.”
“Yes, sir.” Tobey lowered his head and turned to walk away. His face furrowed into a frown; he was worried about his future. He knew that Isaac Smith was here to sell the family plantation.
It was one of Tobey’s duties to open and close doors and windows throughout the mansion to monitor its temperature. After dinner was over and the night air began to cool the many rooms of the big house on the hill, Tobey heard loud voices coming from Davis’s room. He slipped into the vacant adjoining room and opened the veranda doors a crack to listen as two men argued. He heard Julian’s voice yell, “I tell you Davis, it’s there. You MUST do as I ask!”
Then Davis acquiesced. “I suppose I could help you, but how will I find it?”
“I’ve drawn a map.”
Tobey stepped further out onto the veranda.
There was a slight hesitation in Davis’s voice. “I don’t know if I can do this for you. I have a wife now, and I’m well known in the community, I’m not sure….”
Scuffling broke the still of the night.
In a small window on the multi-paned door of Davis’s room, Tobey could see Julian’s reflection as he curled his hands around Davis’s neck. There was a gasp then a gurgling noise.
“Remember, my friend,” Julian said as he squeezed tighter, “I’m the only one who knows of your secret.”
“You wouldn’t, you swore to me,” Davis pleaded.
Julian continued to threaten. “I won’t hesitate to inform the authorities on Cape Cod about your part in the untimely death of Sam Bellamy…and whoever else happened to be in the house on the night of the fire.”
Tobey pressed his back against the side curtain of the door. Curious for more information, he leaned forward again, beyond the dark room, for a better view and saw Julian push Davis up against the outside wall. With clenched teeth, Julian
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