Brunonia Barry - The Map of True Places

Arlis Browne’s fifth trip as first mate was a long and difficult voyage, first to Sumatra, then on to Java. When the ship arrived in Salem once again, the captain was gone and First Mate Arlis Browne had taken over the ship. No one ever knew what happened to the captain. There had been a brief inquiry into the matter, but the fact was that the ship came back with such enormous bounty, its best haul in history, that its owner quickly let his ledger sheet override his suspicions. And since jobs on a merchant ship were lucrative and hard to come by, sailors were unlikely to stick their necks out as witnesses, least of all for a dead man. With no one coming forward, the inquiry was brought to a swift close, the missing captain listed as lost at sea. The very next day, the ship’s owner hired Arlis Browne permanently as his new captain.

Having secured the position as captain, Arlis turned his attention from commerce to courtship. And just as he had in business, Arlis Browne schemed, plotted, and eventually succeeded.

Her name was Zylphia. She was a girl he’d met in town, not higher in station than he-he had learned his lesson about that-but achingly beautiful, with titian hair that sparkled red in the sunlight. She was so beautiful that her father had received many offers of marriage for the girl but had held off, hoping to snare one of the merchant-ship owners and thus secure his own fortune. But he’d been waiting for quite a while, and all the merchant owners who would pay for such a beauty were already married off to the daughters of the other prominent shipping families. And so when the offer came from Captain Browne, Zylphia’s father accepted it gladly. She was nearly nineteen, with no other prospects in sight. This was the best that could be done. No dowry needed to be offered-in fact, the reverse was true. Her beauty commanded a price in itself, the securing of the father’s future and enough money for him to retire.

Upon the announcement of his betrothal, the captain quickly kicked the sailors out of his rooming house, keeping only the housekeeper, who had become his eyes and ears in town. Then he set about renovating the house to make it suitable for his new bride. He even added a widow’s walk to the very top of the roof, so that Zylphia could search for his ship on the horizon as she waited patiently and longingly for his return.

After the wedding Zylphia’s father took his payment and moved inland, to more country parts, where he could live for a long time on his small fortune. His daughter never saw him again.

Zylphia was not a happy bride. She had loved her father and believed with all her heart that he loved her, too. But never for one moment had she loved the captain, whose canines she saw immediately, though it was clear to everyone how taken he was with her. He didn’t want her out of his sight, not for a minute, and when he was on land, she was required to be at his side at all times. He brought her wonderful luxuries from his travels: an ivory fan from Shanghai, silks from Calicut, and sugar from the Caribbean.

Everyone in Salem loved Zylphia. The towns people were always happier in her presence, the way people are often happier in the reflected light of great beauty. Simply to gaze upon her lifted one’s spirits. And gaze upon her they did. But they were careful never to speak to her. The captain required that when his wife speak at all, she speak only to him.

Arlis Browne sorely wanted Zylphia with him when he sailed, but it was well known that it was bad luck to have a woman on board, bad luck for many reasons, not the least of which was the large number of men. And he knew that he did not have the complete loyalty of his crew.

For his part, Arlis Browne had begun to resent the voyages. He was becoming a rich man now and still wanted to own a ship of his own. Yet any time spent away from his young wife filled him with jealousy and fear. What does she do in the long days when I am away? he wondered.

Every time he set out to sea, Arlis Browne gave strict instructions to the housekeeper to accompany his bride everywhere she went or, better yet, to see to her every need and make sure she went nowhere at all.

And so the girl became a prisoner in her own home. Night and day she could be seen on the widow’s walk. Everyone talked about it, assuming that she was gazing out to sea, looking for her husband. What a great love they have! everyone said. What a wonderful thing to have such longing for your husband!

But, alas, it wasn’t love at all. It was a terrifying panic. She knew she was trapped. The more she watched for his ship on the horizon, the more frightened she became.

Then one night a young sailor happened by. He had been at sea on the East Indiaman Friendship, which had just docked and was undergoing repairs. The sailor had not been back in the port of Salem for a few years but had stayed at the captain’s rooming house once before and, not having heard of the change, went back there to seek lodging. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer, for the housekeeper, having nothing much better to do, had recently taken to the drink and had as a result become a very heavy sleeper.

Frustrated by the lack of response from within, the young sailor pounded harder on the door. When finally he awakened the housekeeper, she was angry. She yelled at him to go away and leave her in peace. The sailor quickly apologized for the disturbance and went to sleep in the gardens of the gabled house across the street. He intended to awaken at first light and be gone before anyone was the wiser. He soon fell into an exhausted sleep.

But the moonlight was bright, and the sailor was awakened by its luminous glow. As he looked heaven-ward, he saw a vision, a beautiful girl on the neighboring widow’s walk. He told himself that this was surely a dream, for he had never before seen such beauty. Then, just as he was dismissing the vision as impossible, Zylphia turned to face him. Their eyes met. There was such a look of sadness on her face, and such longing, that he found himself weeping, though he hadn’t wept since he was a small child.

The sailor came back the next night, and the next, and every night she appeared to him, and every night she looked at him with the same longing. After many nights he realized that her sadness had vanished and that only the longing remained. And from the way her eyes gazed into his, he understood that the longing she felt was for him.

He realized then what he had to do. He had no fear of heights as some of the men did. In a storm he would be the first to climb the rigging and unfasten the sails. He was first in the crow’s nest to search for foreign land. And so he easily climbed to the lady who longed for him, making his way carefully up the side of the old house, using only the wisteria and ivy vines as foothold. When he reached the widow’s walk, she took his hand. He knew her immediately. He felt as if he had always known her.

They made love on the widow’s walk under the moon and the stars. He thought they would die in each other’s arms. Such perfection could happen only once in life, and he found himself wishing not to live past this moment. He wished with all his heart for a chill winter wind to blow from the east and freeze them together forever in place.

But the winds were those of summer, and not winds at all but gentle breezes. And every night, after the housekeeper had drunk herself to stupor, the young lovers met on the widow’s walk. He knew that he was risking his life for her. He knew he was risking hers as well, for surely one night they would be caught or at least spotted high up above the world by some passing ship or even by a neighboring family who happened by.

He had known with their first kiss that this was to be no happily-ever-after tale. He could taste the bitter with the sweet. But even as he knew their fate, he was powerless not to play his part. He could do nothing else.