My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

11. Tall Tales

“Hello gentlemen,” Sgt. Nelson greeted Chip and I almost as soon as we arrived back at City Hall. She grinned as she handed us lab coats, latex gloves, and dust masks on our way to the archives. “Just a precaution. Some of the records are really musty. Who knows what kind of creepy crawlies might be living on the surviving pages.”

We’d almost finished donning the protective attire when we reached the lab’s antechamber.

“Shame on that bastard Nelson!” Mrs. Crane was grumbling from inside the lab proper, “Shame on him!”

“Steady, sir,” Chip said noticing my pallor.

“Oh, hello Admiral, Chipee,” Miss Bates called out when she caught sight of us. “Come in, come in. We just found some import and export fees for the slaves Sheamus bought and sold here.”

She showed off a tattered journal and continued, “There’s no way to know where and when  he purchased most slaves during his career, but  he did a fair amount of  buying and selling right here.”

“And,” Mrs. Crane said, “we found the Sea Nymph listed in maritime records of arrivals and departures, but the records themselves are limited.”

“And it seems,” Miss Bates said, “that he was a regular customer at one of the more popular brothels.”

“Apparently,” Mrs. Crane said, “the madam kept records of her clients.  Their likes, dislikes, if they paid up front. Apparently law enforcement at the time turned a blind eye to that particular occupation as there’s also a ledger of payment. She must have been the richest woman in town.”

“In any case, Captain Nelson always paid prior to services rendered. Cash. But….”Miss Bates hesitated, flushing.

“He needed  a little extra attention in order for him to…er….finish his business. Was charged extra for…oh I can’t even say it.”

Miss Bates took the book and handed it to me. It was difficult to make our the words from the fancy script. But then I saw it…or what I think it said.

“Er, yes,” I said rapidly. “Now, what can we assist you with today?”

“Over there,” she pointed to a counter cluttered with boxes, files, and crates of long forgotten records.

“There just hasn’t been time or manpower to digitize everything yet,” Sgt. Nelson said apologetically.

 “If anyone can decipher them,” Chip said, as his fingers scrolled across the old fashioned script on some of the old papers.

“But that’s why I asked for Mrs. Crane to accompany me. Remember, when you asked me about a traveling companion. She’s an expert in historical calligraphy.”

 I couldn’t help looking at Chip askance. He’d allowed Lee to believe the choice of Lee’s mother to cause Lee pain.

Chip saw my disappointed glance and lowered his eyes, not in shame, I could tell, but that the truth had been discovered.

“This is interesting,” Mrs. Crane began, an old manuscript in her gloved hand…and began to read aloud. “Our captain took great pains to avoid the accursed coordinates. If Nelson had, he and his crew wouldn’t be lying dead at the bottom of the sea. I warned him. We all warned him. Time and time again. Even Mother Nature warned us all in her own way, those weird lights in the night. But the stubborn old cuss was always taking shortcuts. Whether the Nymph was taken by storm or the kraken, God only knows….”

Just then Peabody entered, carrying a banker’s box, crammed with old files.

“The PM released these as per Captain Nelson-Crane’s request. Royal Navy correspondence from 1800 through 1830. She thought it might be helpful.”

“Your captain though that since the writers of these letters and communiques were alive at the same time as Captain Nelson, more or less, there might be some mention of him. And since the Royal Navy kept track of all vessels that came to Bermuda, well, perhaps there might be a manifest or two on her personnel and cargo.  But you do realize, don’t you, that slavery was abolished by the British government in 1807? Though to our shame, there was still some  black market trading for a long time after, Mother England being too far away for the local constabulary to really enforce the new law.”

“I can’t decipher these scribbles at all,” Chip said of some of the letters he’d pulled out.

“Give them to me,” Mrs. Crane said, grabbing them. “I can read most styles of old fashioned handwriting. In fact,” she grinned, “I remember Lee, oh when he was about 8 years old, sneaking out of the public library with an old book from the reference section. It was a handwritten ship’s log. The library had a lot of them. Cape Cod, you know.  Well, they didn’t have scanners back then. He simply put the book under his coat to bring it home. He wanted me to look at and tell him what the swirly script said. I’m afraid I rather dampened his enthusiasm. I practically dragged him by the ear back to the library right then and there to confess his crime, apologize, and turn in his library card. You would have thought I was making him walk the plank from the way he reacted!” she laughed. “It wasn’t so much losing his library privileges, for a time anyway, it was not being able to read Captain Hawthorne’s log. The Seaview’s Log. Yes, that was the pirate ship’s  name. To this day, I don’t know if Lee ever did find out what the old pirate wrote. ”

Even Chip was grinning at the mental image of Lee as a kid  with a fascination for old pirate tales. But when he saw me grinning too, he quickly became serious and returned to the matter at hand. “What does that first letter say, ma’am?”

“Oh yes...let’s see...my dear...oh...I don’t think a love letter to a local barmaid should interest us...why don’t I go through these and I’ll let you know if we find anything of interest. In fact, why don’t you boys go enjoy the museum for a little while. It’s just next door. Past the palm trees. Perhaps Sgt. Nelson can show you around...”

“I guess you won’t really need us now,” I said. “I really am sorry about yesterday.”

“I’d rather you fix that whatever it was in port than at sea. Lee…the captain told us he needed your help.”

“Er, yes…not that he couldn’t fix it himself,” Chip said, but it was a time consuming repair.”

The women were already engrossed in their research to pay us much mind anymore, so we took our leave of them.

Chip’s stomach rumbled.

“Back to the vending machines?” I asked. “Can’t return to Seaview after such a short time. Lee would have our hides.”

“Admiral? Commander?” Chief Peabody rose from his table as soon as we entered. “Why am I not surprised they kicked you out.”

“Er, they didn’t but…we were kind of…useless,” I said.

“Oh, my I introduce Aunt Catherine. She’s a Peabody too. These are the folks I told you about, Admiral Nelson and Commander Morton.”

It took a few moments for Chip and I to put our tongues back into our mouths. Catherine Peabody was an unbelievably beautiful woman who would make  Raquel Welch, Marilyn Monroe, and the Venus De Milo (If she still had arms) pale by comparison.

“Miss Peabody,” I managed. (Cheech, I sounded like an adolescent boy who’s voice was cracking.) “Please, call me Harry.”

“I would have thought you prefer Harriman. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anyone call you Harry. At least in the news.”

“Just my son.”

“I beg your pardon? Isn’t that rather unusual?”

“Captain Nelson-Crane was recently adopted by the admiral, Auntie, remember?”

“Oh, yes. Sometimes the old brain matter shows its age. It’s about what now, fifty two? But getting back to the adoption, I believe it made quite a splash in the news, didn’t it? Even your government wasn’t too thrilled about it? I mean your own captain…”

“Ahem,” Chip cleared his throat. “Chip…”

“Pleased to meet you Chip.”

“Perhaps you like a tour of Seaview, Miss Peabody?”

Damn, he beat me to it.

“Kate. Please call me Kate, gentlemen.”

 “Er, yes, thank you,” I said, nodding my head dumbly. (It was very hard to take my eyes off her.)

“Why don’t I treat you all to a High Tea,” Chief Peabody said, “include Miss Bates, Mrs. Crane and of course Captain Nelson-Crane. Oh, and your sister too, Admiral.”

“The Prime Minister already had a tea party with captain,” Chip said. “Just yesterday.”

“Maggie is always so hospitable,” Kate said.

“Actually,” I corrected , “She only brought some tea to Seaview. Added a little rum to it, that’s all.”

“Ah. The Bermuda special. Do talk him into joining us then. They have some very nice biscuits. I believe you call them cookies.”

“He’s very busy,” Chip said.

“I’m sure the captain will enjoy a little respite from his duties,” I said, though I could see that Chip was trying to keep Lee from seeing her, and she, him. Not that Lee prefers older women, but he has on occasion. And Kate was a knockout, fifty two or not.

“Excuse me,” Sgt. Nelson peeked in, “the ladies thought you’d better come.”

“We’ll be right there. We’ll join you at O’ Grady’s then,” I said and nudged Chip to follow Sgt. Nelson.  “Afternoon Kate, Chief Peabody.”

“Good afternoon,” they said in unison.

“I think I found something,” Mrs. C. said as soon as we entered the lab, again enrobed in protective gear. “A letter from the Nymph’s cabin boy to the maritime commission. He says that when the order was given to abandon ship, the first officer saw Captain Nelson headed below, with the key to the cargo hold. But that he didn’t make it back topside before the ship broke up and sank.”

“So there was some good in him after all,” Miss Bates mused, “too late to rescue the slaves, though.”

 We didn’t find anything more else of interest though, and by late afternoon we called it a day.

Frankly I didn’t really care. The evening with Kate would be interesting enough, and I hoped she would find me a more stimulating dinner companion than Chip.