A deep chill overtook him as he stumbled out of bed to find his pocket watch. The moon was bright, and he was able to read the time by the window. “One o’clock,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head and slowly crawling back into bed. There was nothing he could do except listen to the ominous pounding ring throughout the cove. John didn’t know how long it went on, but finally the incessant din stopped. However, he didn’t find any comfort in the silence. It simply meant the coffin must be finished.
Finally, John drifted back into a fitful sleep, only to be awakened by the sound of voices coming from the common room. He had obviously overslept. Elizabeth Manuel’s friend Gertie was over for tea.
“How’s the boy making out, Lizzie?” he heard Gertie ask.
“Oh, not too bad, dear. It’s been a lot for him. You know he’s only fifteen, and making that long voyage across the ocean alone all the way from Yarmouth for someone his age is no picnic, I’m sure. I think he misses his father and sister. It’s my understanding they were very close. Can I get you more tea?” Elizabeth offered.
“What about his mother?”
“Oh, she passed on a few years back. It’s a shame for a youngster to grow up without a mother. She was a distant relative of my husband Joseph’s, you know. It was only proper that we offer to bring him over here and teach him a trade at his father’s request. Joseph says the young lad has a real talent with wood. He’ll be a good apprentice building those schooners, and Joseph can use all the help he can get. This island is no longer a little fishing stop anymore. Each passing day since Joseph and his brothers, Samuel and William, decided to settle here year-round, more and more people have also decided to stay and make a go of it. We’re only a handful of families right now, but I dare say that in a couple of years Exploits will be a regular little establishment.”
Gertie chuckled. “Yes, ’tis true. I can hardly believe we stayed last winter. Fred has a way of convincing me of these things. However, many o’ days I miss England!”
“Speaking about youngsters without mothers, it’s a crying shame about Maud last night. Poor little Sarah and Annie. They’ll be bringing each other up now, I suppose. That’s a pity — youngsters raising themselves.”
“Yes, it certainly is. And poor Allen. As if he hasn’t been through enough losing a brother to them savages. And now a sister to disease.”
John instantly thought of Mishbee. How could she be a savage? He was relieved that the ladies were no longer talking about him but devastated that the coffin being built in the middle of the night was for Allen’s sister, Maud. John quickly washed and dressed. He had to find his friend.
However, John couldn’t escape breakfast. Mrs. Manuel fussed and made him sit at the table for tea, bread and butter, and a hardboiled egg for strength. He looked at her closely as she busied herself in the kitchen. She didn’t look like the women in Yarmouth with their perfectly styled hair and smart and tidy clothes. The porcelain complexions of England were replaced with rough, weathered skin, tough hands from hard labour, and greying hair barely kept under control. It was a different kind of beauty. It was the beauty of strength and fortitude. It wasn’t worn on the outside like a fancy hat, but rather, on the inside like a permanent badge of courage.
When he finished breakfast, John stepped outside. Joseph Manuel would be down by the dock or at the lumber yard or maybe catching fish for this evening’s supper. It seemed impossible that only yesterday he had met Mishbee and only last night Maud had died. Both events seemed lifetimes apart. It didn’t feel right that the sun was shining so brightly and that the ocean sparkled so beautifully. He took a moment to scan the scenery of this new island home where he had already begun to sink tentative roots into. From the inner harbour he could see the rocky hills that made up this harsh landscape. A dozen or so wooden homes peppered the shoreline randomly, decorating the desolate land with spurts of colour.
Several docks protruded into the ocean. Although minor intrusions in this vast expanse of water, these docks housed the essential transportation the settlers needed for survival. As John walked up the hill towards Allen’s house, he passed the graveyard and then several fishing nets set out for mending. The smell of smoke wafting from chimneys was mixed with the odours of fish and salt air.
Maud’s body was laid out in the front room of Allen’s house. Allen looked sullen when John entered. Edgar, Maud’s husband, and their two young girls, Sarah and Annie, stared blankly at the coffin.
“I’m sorry, Allen,” John said.
“Yes, well, it’s a cruel world, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ’tis that.” John’s eyes flickered to Annie, the youngest girl sitting in the room. He had seen her only two days ago running around on the paths of the island, singing and playing with endless energy and spirit. He thought of his own mother’s funeral only four years earlier. The pain only seemed stronger now as he witnessed this scene.
Suddenly, Allen fixed John with an angry glare and spat out, “Those blasted Indians took my brother and now this. It isn’t fair, John. It isn’t fair.”
John didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He simply stayed next to his friend offering silent sympathy. When more people arrived, John returned home to the Manuels’ place.
That afternoon he helped Mrs. Manuel stack wood. He was happy to do an easy task that kept his mind off the events of the past day. Once the woodpile was finished, John decided to go for a walk to clear his head. He followed the path up over the hill and noticed someone familiar sitting down and staring out at the ocean.
“Hello, Annie,” he said.
“Hello,” she said warily. “How do you know my name?”
The nine-year-old viewed John with suspicion. Her face was a combination of sadness and anger.
“I’m new here, but I’m good friends with your Uncle Allen.”
“Oh,” Annie said, her glower subsiding a little.
John studied the girl’s tousled chestnut-brown hair and her tear-stained cheeks, which seemed more freckles than face.
“What are you doing up here on this path?” she asked.
“Just going for a walk. I had a lot on my mind.”
“Me, too.” She sighed heavily. “They’re burying my mother in a couple of hours.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. She was very sick. My father says at least she isn’t suffering anymore, but I’m still sad.”
“And so you should be.”
Annie turned and shot John a piercing look. “And how would you know how I should feel? Did you ever lose a mother?”
John cleared his throat. “Yes, I did. And I wasn’t much older than you are now when my mother died. Except I lived in England then.”
“Oh ...” Annie said. “What’s it like living without a mother?”
“Well, it isn’t easy, but I still have memories of her. I try to be strong for her. And I had my older sister to help me. It hurt really bad at first. Over time I learned to keep going, though. That’s why I came here to Exploits Island — to make a new life for myself, to keep going.”
“Yes, that’s what my father says. He says we have to keep going somehow. He also says I talk too much, so I don’t know if I believe him. You don’t think I chatter on too much, do you?”
John chuckled. “No, no, you don’t talk too much at all. But your father’s right about the other matter. For your mother’s sake you have to keep going. Annie, we should head back now for your mother’s burial.”
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