The Sea Giveth ...

THE SEA GIVETH…

WARNING: The use of one word, albeit by an unsavoury character but germane to the story

She had always appreciated an excuse to come into town. She had walked the arcade so many times but still it refreshed; it cleared her mind and lifted her spirits. Motivation and concentration, the awareness of her surrounding, were the beneficiaries. She sat outside Duckie’s Bar facing the sea. On one side there was Barth’s Chandlers, spick and span with a fancy astrolabe in the window and a gleaming weather vane atop the roof. On the other was the milliners which she had just visited. The resulting hatbox was on the floor beside her. These were tidy, well-run businesses, and evidence of prosperous mercantilism.

But everything has its price and its adverse side. Here it was weather. The sea was beginning to boil; another Gulf storm was being stoked by the wind. Storms round these parts had a habit of turning into hurricanes. Gulls flocked on to the arcade for shelter, and Marjorie Barth’s sketchbook was in danger of blowing away. She decided to retreat indoors.

She liked Mr Duckie who was fat and jolly, and tried to ignore the baser aspects of his character. That her father was German was not too big a problem. Texas was full of Germans- hard working immigrants who were happy enough to assimilate. But these Germans did have views that did not always go down too well. Germans were averse to slavery, and despite Appomattox and Abe Lincoln being ten years behind them that was still an issue. Bedford Forrest’s Klansmen had found a ready audience down here.

Mr Duckie was perusing some charts. He took a keen and practical interest in the weather. Indianola was the second biggest port in Texas. But it was vulnerable

“You’d better get home, Marjorie, just as soon as you can”.

She took his advice. She loaded up the hatbox and her other merchandise on the mule at the end of the arcade, mounted her horse and with her two animals slowly rode away from the shoreline. The lighthouse at the end of the arcade, stranded on its own spit of land, was in full throttle and she thought she could see a ship approaching but mist and spume and what looked like bits of paper but may have been seagulls were fast reducing visibility.

****************

On the ship the weather looked much worse. The wind seemed to blow in all directions at once. The noise was frightening. The ship’s beams creaked; the planking was on the point of breaking up, the mast seemed to have already come loose. Clancy Jiggens huddled on deck trying to use the bulwarks as cover but the water found these a poor obstacle to its progress. People were shouting and screaming; he took little notice, seemingly lost in his own world. Some mantra was being recited; at last it started to cut through the carapace of his sensibilities. It finally made sense- “Abandon ship”.

Then people poured all over him and there was water everywhere. It was not possible to tell just when he went into the sea. He thought he saw a woman floating beside him and together they hurtled shoreward. Then everything stopped.

******************

Conrad Barth is riffling through business papers on the dining table. The whole room is heavy with wood, tongue and groove walls, heavy oak chairs. Outside the sound of boots scraping on a coarse mat announce his daughter’s arrival. She starts unpacking her new hat, also on the table, and gives a little cry as a pin stabs her finger.

“Vanity, vanity”, says her father but his voice is amused and kind.

Then they had to clear the table for dinner. William Barth, first ensured that all the outside shutters were in place. The wind was now a permanent shriek and he struggled to keep his footing. As he came in something shot through the sky above him. He looked at his sister’s new hat and smiled. So did Judge Tasker, the retired lawyer who had taken up permanent residence with the family.

“We don’t wear hats at the table”, said her father.

“Chefs wear some remarkable hats”, said the Judge.

“Chefs work in kitchens, not in dining rooms. Take that hat off, Marjorie”

“Yes, father” she said. There was an impish smile on her face that was only encouraged by the other men.

“You look pale and a bit sad, Jake”, said Marjorie

“He doesn’t get out enough”, replied her father.

“This place is changing”, continued the Judge.

Her father looked at him and at first said nothing. In fact he was listening to the wind.

“You speak of change, Jacob. You mean people but things change too. The very land on which we live changes. It moves. It palpably moves. Hear that strengthening storm? Do you think all that has no effect on a place? The wind and the water burrow into the land. They eat at it. Cracks are formed. Rocks are turned into sand. The shore turns traitor on itself. It invites the wind and the water to come back. To burrow further.”

“I once heard a man say that lightning never strikes twice in the same place. That was a foolish thing to say. For lightning, like wind and water, seeks weakness and revisits places where it has struck before.”

“Weakness is a bad thing in both man and rock.” replied her father to the Judge.

“My” said Marjorie “Ain’t we all gloomy tonight”

And for once her father did not say “Aren’t, Marjorie”. She’d come a long way from Bremerhaven.

***************

The next morning Marjorie returns to town. The tidy frontages are gone. Split timbers and collapsed metal signage litter the roadway. But the wind has dropped, the sea is once more calm and already there are men out clearing up.

She walks to the edge, past the damaged kiosks where once food was dished up to hungry shoppers, to the turtle farms beyond. Ben Tillotson one of the farmers is already out surveying the damage. He nods grimly at her.

“Tis a strange and brittle place we live in” he said. “But sometimes a terrible beauty too. Look at that sky, all aslant and diagonal to the sea it is”.

On her way back she walks through their damaged chicken shacks. The doors are off the hinges but perhaps there could still be eggs inside. She examines them one by one. And then in one of them she finds a man. It is dark inside with little angles of light from the door all askew and the tiny glassless window but she can see his clothes are wet and ragged. His complexion is still brown in contrast to the pale doll-like waif beside him. Marjorie suppresses a shriek.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Clancy Jiggens”.

“I meant rather what are you doing here?”

“Taking shelter.”

“Is that your wife”.

And he laughed.

“What is so funny about that?”

“Have you never seen a ship’s figurehead? I reckon it brought me a bit of luck in this harsh world. Now can you get me some food and I’ll be on my way; I’ll never trouble you again”.

But Marjorie had recovered her composure and insisted he come to the house and partake of food with them. And so he did. In answer to Barth’s questioning he told of the shipwreck the night before when the ship out of New Orleans and bound for Matamoros came aground in Indianola. He was still there for breakfast and her father was still asking questions. Marjorie felt embarrassed.

“You say New Orleans”

“Yes, sir”

“An argument you said. But why Matamoros?”

“I speak a little Spanish”

“Father. Enough.”

“Marjorie! You forget yourself. This is my house.”

And he turned back to Jiggens.

“And for that little fact you chose Matamoros”

“Mr Jiggens somehow seems familiar”

“Marjorie if you speak out of turn again big as you are I shall send you to your room”

And Marjorie wondered why on earth her father had got so angry.

After breakfast she and Jiggens went riding. He was good company, a pleasant if slightly reticent man They rode way out of Indianola, circled it and returned.

“Let us have coffee at Mr Duckie’s”

Mr Duckie was not his normal friendly self. He was having a drink with Ben Tillotson and a fellow called Cordell whom Marjorie did not like. Duckie declined to serve Clancy Jiggens. Marjorie would never patronise Duckie’s Bar again. On the way home Clancey asked that they stop at the Post Office where sure enough there was a big parcel for him.

Back home the Judge was reading a book. He stopped and began to stare at the parcel.

“What is that?”

“Clancy had a parcel waiting for him at the Post Office”.

The Judge seemed about to speak. Indeed he did speak although a careful observer might have got the impression that it was not what he had first intended to say.

“My word that is some coincidence. For I am reading the autobiography of our first Postmaster-General.”

“A friend of yours?”

“No, Mr Jiggens”, the Judge smiled “I am not quite that old. That was some hundred years ago”

“And the man is still famous today?”

“He is I would suggest the most famous American that was never President. His name is Benjamin Franklin”.

Clancy nodded. He seemed interested if a little distracted.

“I must go and change.”

And he left the room too quickly to see the Judge’s eyebrows rise.

“What’s the matter, Jake?” asked Marjorie sensing the changed atmosphere.

“Let us leave discussing that until Conrad returns. And maybe not even then for he will be tired from clearing the heartbreaking rubbish at the chandlery”.

****************

Things moved quickly after that. Hardly had they sat down, and Marjorie complimented Clancy on his fresh clothes that had arrived from New Orleans, when there was a loud banging on the door. Conrad managed to keep the baying crowd from entering- he had earned just enough respect in the town- but Marjorie heard unpleasant words and one in particular.

Conrad returned flushed and perturbed.

“I will not have their like coming here”

“I shall not stay here tonight. I shall find lodgings in town.”

Conrad sighed.

“No, Clancy”, implored Marjorie.

“It is best”, he said “I would not wish that on anyone least of all this family”

Conrad Barth was staring at him.

And so it was. Marjorie was distraught, and it was clear that she now held Clancy in something more than friendly affection. She felt her father’s stare turn to her.

“I feel you should spend less time with that man. He is not all that he seems.”

“And how is that?”

“Will you stop questioning everything that I say”

“I trust that his skin colour is not the subject of your disapproval”.

“Of course not”

“Then what”

“He has come here to see us”.

“He was the victim of a storm”

“He was coming here anyway”

“But Matamoros…”

“Forget Matamoros, That parcel had come from New Orleans”

“That’s where he lives, father”

“Addressed to Indianola. Before he knew of any storm.”

“Perhaps he has friends here”

“He has lied to us, Marjorie, and I do not want you to have anything to do with him. Do you understand?”

“I hear what you say, father.”

The atmosphere in the house did not lift. It was as stifling as it was outside where it was clear that another and bigger storm would seen hit Indianola. One night Marjorie returned home from town to hear sounds of a loud argument between her father and her brother. They felt her presence too soon for her to make out any words.

“William is leaving us, Marjorie”, said her father later “He is going to open a new branch in Santa Fe while I repair the chandlery here.”

“All very sudden”, said Marjorie.

“Indeed”, said the Judge and there seemed an infinity of meaning in that one word.

******************

Marjorie never saw Clancy again. He seemed to have left town entirely. And she missed him. Days passed. There was a storm but it seemed partial, unfinished. William sent messages from Santa Fe. Christmas was coming. Marjorie bought herself a new dress, bespoke.

Then a body was found, some miles out of town. It was Clancy’s and he had been shot. The more liberal half of Indianola woke up to the outrage. Cordell, who had expressed pleasure that the n***** was dead, was arrested, convicted and executed. Marjorie kept away from the courthouse; she could not bear to attend.

Clancy’s was not the only death. Indianola itself was soon to expire. The real storm arrived. The whole shoreline was blown to pieces- the chandlery, the milliners, the dress shop, Duckie’s bar; nothing would survive. Marjorie and her father were standing outside their house when it stopped. All was quiet. Was it over? Had it moved on? No for they were standing in the eye of the storm. And suddenly they and everything around them was hit. The storm overwhelmed Indianola and it never recovered. Today only a small marker of what had been remained. Conrad Barth was never seen again. Marjorie’s body came back to shore on the next tide, her face almost unrecognisable after the salt water had worked on the poor girl.

**********************

Then some months later a man thought he saw her on Bienville Street, New Orleans.

“Marjorie Barth”

And the woman turned around.

“Mr Tillotson. Some coincidence.”

“Not quite. Not this time. I’ve been following for you for some while. I knew you lived on Bienville.”

“Really”

“That Judge who lived with you, he announced your death. But I wasn’t sure.”

“How could anyone be sure?”

“He identified you from the dress you wore. But I knew that dressmaker. If a design sold she’d have new ones sewn. Even though she promised they were unique”

Marjorie snorted.

“But why are you taking such an interest?”

“That case hung heavy on me I must confess. The half-caste Clancy Jiggens who was murdered. Cordell was a ruffian but he was my friend and I knew he hadn’t killed Jiggens. But more than that I didn’t want you to think I would be part of anything like that. So when I first saw you here- that was the coincidence- I kept some sort of watch on you before I felt ready, got the courage, to talk to you”.

“This is a strange tale you tell, Mr Tillotson. And what makes you so sure that Mr Cordell is innocent?”

“Because I know who the real murderer is.”

“How do you know that?”

“We found him here. Cordell wanted to pull a blackmail caper on him. I’d had enough and wanted to forget it all. Until I saw you. He is in New Orleans. Your brother, Miss Barth.”

“How dare you tell me these false stories!”

“He needs you. This is his address. It would be good if you could go to him.”

Marjorie was left alone in the street with her thoughts. Maybe Ben Tillotson wasn’t such a bad man. She went back to Cicely’s house where she lived and broke down.

“I have to go somewhere”.

“What on earth is the matter, my child”

I’ve been told…I’ve been told… my brother killed your son.”

The two women stared at each other. The well-upholstered young white woman and the thin black woman who had become her friend. Together in sorrow and anguish for Clancy. And there was still that resemblance just as there had been with Clancy.

“Shall I come with you?”

“No, Cicely. I must do this on my own.”

“Whatever the truth it will make no difference to our friendship.”

“Thank you, Cecily. Oh thank you, thank you, thank you”

*********************.

She found the cheap lodgings where William lived and banged on the door. She had to do it several times. She heard an upper window open. My are you broken and haggard she thought at the sight of him.”

“Come down, William, I have to speak to you”

“Go away.”

“Come down. Or shall I call the police”

“What”

“I know, William.”

“Know what”

“Do you want me to shout it out here in the street?”

He closed the window and a few moments later she heard steps on the stairs. He opened the door and tried to bar the way but she pushed him before her in her blind and tearful rage.

“Did you? Did you kill Clancy? Yes I can tell you did.”

“He would have destroyed our lives.”

“I know who he was. I live with his mother. He was our half-brother. Our father and Cicely were engaged, But it was not possible.”

“But you didn’t know that then. You were in love. We had to get rid of him”

“We?”

“Your father and Jake and I”.

“No. I remember a row one night. I know now what it was. You decided of your own accord. Don’t bring them into your crimes”

And she started hitting him hard across the face.

“And Santa Fe?”

“There was no Santa Fe”.

“How have you lived?”

“I recovered the old astrolabe. But the monies from it have all gone.”

She was screaming and shouting at him.

“That’s enough”

It was said from behind her and was gentle and soothing.

“Our landlords have arrived.” said William

She turned. Cecily was there with Ben Tillotson.

They had a calming influence on Marjorie. But she wondered once more whether she wasn’t just in the eye of the storm.

“The Barths”, said Cicely “Have at last started to tell each other the truth. Let’s begin again from there”.

Marjorie took a deep breath and prepared to let others guide her.