“Come on,” Josh said, spotting a tent at the far end of a line of buildings. “This is the one I was looking for.”
The tent was hot and crowded. Inside, people sat cross-legged on the grass as a tag team of sailor storytellers engaged in a game of one-upmanship. Right now they were trading sailing superstitions.
“Never sail on a Friday,” one of the sailors offered.
“Hey, we all sailed up here on Friday,” Josh said aloud as he and Hawk sat down.
“A very bad omen,” the host said, and the crowd laughed.
“Never bring a woman on board,” another sailor declared.
“For any number of reasons,” someone else said.
“Never allow a preacher on board,” the first sailor said.
“I would have thought a preacher would be good luck,” the host said.
There was a loud chorus of noes.
“It annoys the devil.”
“You don’t want to do anything to get him too riled.”
“The preacher or the devil?” the host asked, to more laughter.
“The preacher if you’re on land, the devil out at sea.”
One of the sailors stood up and took off his shirt to reveal a cross tattooed on each arm. “This’ll keep you safe,” he said. “But only if you have it on all four limbs.” He started to drop his pants.
Howls of protest rose from the audience. “For God’s sake!” one of the mothers yelled. “There are children present.”
The sailor shrugged and sat back down.
“I take sand on the ship with me,” another sailor said. “To throw at the devil. Like Ahab did.”
“Which worked so well for him,” the host said.
“You can’t say the word ‘pig’ once you’re on board the ship,” another sailor offered. “It’s very bad luck.”
“But if you tattoo a pig on your knee before you get on the ship, it’s good luck.”
The host looked at his watch. “It’s four o’clock,” he said. “We should switch to the storytelling competition, since the ferry’s coming at six.”
“That’s what I came to hear,” Josh said to Hawk.
Two of the more talkative sailors in the group spoke first, recounting stories about the wrecks that had taken place in these waters. The first was the story of a ship called the City of Columbus, which had run aground on a reef off Martha’s Vineyard aptly named the Devil’s Bridge. The ship carried an interesting group of passengers, mostly invalids trying to head south in an effort to escape the harsh winter of 1884. The captain’s attempt to free his ship from the reef only put the craft in more peril, and a rogue wave swept most of the women and children from the deck into the ice-filled waters, where they died almost immediately. The rescue of the remaining passengers was performed by a group of Wampanoag Indians. Unable to get close enough to the ship, they urged the passengers to jump into the frigid waters, and the Indians picked up what survivors they could.
The second story was a more local one that had happened very close by, where the wreck of a Spanish ship had become an early grave for fourteen unfortunate sailors. That wreck took place in the group of islands they were on now, between the two isles of Malaga and Smuttynose.
The minute that Smuttynose was mentioned, another storyteller was on deck waiting to tell the story about the famous ax murders that had happened there back in the late 1800s. Two women were murdered on the island while a third escaped into the rocks, where she hid until morning. The event had inspired a number of books, including Anita Shreve’s The Weight of Water. Today the grisly details of the murders elicited a shudder among the crowd and another warning that there were children present. The storyteller then switched to describing the worn thole pins found in a stolen dory, which became part of the evidence that convicted the killer.
“What are thole pins?” someone in the crowd asked.
“Oarlocks,” the host said.
“More or less,” the storyteller said. “They were usually wooden in some of the older ships.”
“Oarlocks,” the host said again.
“Yes, but made of wood,” the storyteller said. “Kind of like two dowels,” he said. “The man who owned the dory that the killer stole had just replaced them. The fact that they were worn out was evidence that someone had rowed a very long distance.”
One story led into another, and soon a member of the crew of the Friendship was next up. “I have a story about thole pins, or oarlocks or whatever you want to call them, and mine happened earlier than the one on Smuttynose, but worn thole pins were the primary evidence in that case, too.”
Hawk listened as the sailor told the story of the house on Turner Street and of Zylphia and her sailor, a story he’d never heard before.
“That’s your ex-girlfriend’s house he’s talking about,” Josh whispered.
When the sailor detailed the part about the young sailor climbing the side of the house on Turner Street to make love to Zylphia on the widow’s walk, Hawk stood up.
“You okay?” Josh asked.
Hawk didn’t speak, but he listened to the rest of the story, about the beatings from the captain and how it was believed that Zylphia and her Haitian housekeeper had poisoned him, how Zylphia had made her escape, the worn oarlocks on the stolen dory found on the Miseries becoming the evidence that she’d gotten away. The lovers had simply and very mysteriously vanished, leaving behind only the dory with its worn thole pins.
The women in the front row loved the story, which led to teasing from the sailors. “It’s so romantic,” one of the women said, putting a hand to her heart.
“Remind me not to go out with you,” the host said.
“You can go out with her,” her friend said. “Just don’t marry her.”
“Fair enough.”
Hawk was standing now, a nervous feeling overtaking him. He didn’t find the story romantic-he found it brutal and horrifying. His mind wandered to Roy and what he’d done to Lilly. And how there hadn’t been anything he could do to stop it. And then he thought about Zee, had been thinking about her all along, really.
Roy had recently moved to New Hampshire. Not to this part of New Hampshire, but a couple of hours from here on the other side of the state. Hawk had made sure Roy was long gone before he left town. He couldn’t do much for Zee, but he could do that.
Still, he didn’t feel better. He was very agitated. It was hot in here. He needed to get some air.
Josh caught up with him outside. “I thought everyone knew that story,” he said.
“I didn’t,” Hawk said.
54
SIGN THE DNR IF they let you,” Melville said to her. “But I’m not certain that a doctor can declare him incompetent. I think you might have to go to court to do that.”
“It sounds as if you’ve looked into this,” she said.
“I thought it might come to this, yes.”
Zee kicked herself for bringing it up. “I don’t want to sign a DNR.”
“But it’s what he would want.”
“If he wants it so much, why didn’t you have him appoint you as his health-care proxy?” she said.
“Probably for the same reason that we didn’t make marriage plans,” Melville said. “We always thought we had time.”
“I’m sorry,” Zee said. “I wish you had gotten married.” She thought about the wedding she was going to tonight, and how lucky Mattei and Rhonda were by comparison.
“Let’s change the subject,” Melville said finally. “Happy birthday.” He held up his glass and toasted her. She smiled.
“Virgo,” he said. “Very neat and organized. Great at detail work. Observant. Picky. You can think a thing to death. The phrase ‘analysis paralysis’ comes to mind.”
“You’re quite the little astrologer,” she said.
“Happy birthday,” he said again. “To better things in the year to come.”
She looked up in time to see Mickey and Ann walk into the bar. Mickey held a chair for Ann, and she sat down. Melville and Zee exchanged looks.