John Barth - The Sot-Weed Factor

Ebenezer sighed. " 'Tis a sorry tale in truth," he said, though in fact he rather sympathized with McEvoy and more than a little suspected that the redemption-dealer had got his due. "Yet withal thou'rt something better cased than I — "

He was seized with another fit of seasickness, after which he clung weakly to the gunwale. "I have not even health enough to bewail my lot."

"Nor time, by Crispin's last," said Richard Sowter, who had emerged from the sloop's cabin in time to hear this last remark, "for yonder off to larboard is Castlehaven Point, and two points farther down is Cooke's."

Ebenezer groaned. "What tidings those should be! And yet 'tis like a knell of death, for de'il the bit I want to see my home, 'tis mine no more, and once I've seen it my life is done."

"Oh la," said Sowter, "there's always some expedient. Ye may at least console yourself 'twas not rum, wrongheadedness, or the rage o' the mob brought ye low, but simple pride and innocence, such as have ruined many a noble wight before. See that house yonder in the poplars?"

The sloop had cleared Castlehaven Point and was now laid over on a starboard tack due westward into a fresh breeze blowing from the Bay. Ashore off the larboard beam had appeared a large white clapboard manor.

"Not Malden so soon!" cried the poet.

"Nay. St. Clement's anchor, 'tis Castlehaven, and where it stands once stood a very castle of a manor-house called Edouardine, that was built to last till the end o' time. There is a tale o' costly pride, if the truth of it were known."

Ebenezer remembered the story of the young woman whom his father had rescued from drowning and who had served as wet nurse for himself and Anna until Andrew's return to England. "Methinks I have heard the name," he said gloomily. "I've not fortitude enough to hear the tale."

"Nor I time to tell it," Sowter replied. He pointed to a wooded spit of land some five or six miles to westward, across the expanse of the river's mouth. "There lies Cooke's Point ahead. Ye'll see Malden in a minute, when we're closer."

"God damn your lying soul, Dick Sowter!" cried Tom Tayloe. "Will ye carry this fraud so far?"

Sowter smiled as if surprised. "St. Cuthbert's beads, sir, I know not what fraud ye speak of. Pardon me whilst I get my papers ready for Mr. Smith."

When he had gone again into the cabin, Tayloe clutched at Ebenezer's deerskin shirt. "Thou'rt ill, are ye not, and want nursing back to health?"

"That I'm ill is clear," Ebenezer answered. "But what need hath a ruined man of health? I mean to have one look at Malden and end my life."

"Nay, man, that were foolish! Ye have been swived out o' your rightful place, as I have been, but thou'rt not disliked amongst the public and the courts. Smith and Sowter have undone ye for the present, yet it wants but time, methinks, and careful thought, to have your manor back."

Ebenezer shook his head. "That is vain hope, and cruel to entertain."

"Not at all!" Tayloe insisted. "There is the Governor to appeal to, and belike thy father hath some influence in court. With time enough, and patience, thou'rt sure to find some trick. Why, I'll wager ye have not even seen a barrister yet, that might match old Sowter's craft with craft of his own."

Ebenezer admitted that he had not. "Yet 'tis a lost cause after all," he sighed. "I've not a penny to subsist on, nor any friend to borrow from, and scarce can walk for fever."

"That is my point exactly," Tayloe said. "Ye know I'm not McEvoy, and have been falsely bonded for a servant, and I've shown ye how hopeless is my case. Once I set foot on Cooke's Point I lose four years o' my life — nay, more; 'twill be no chore for Sowter to have the term drawn out on some pretext, since he knows Judge Hammaker will support him."

"Haply 'tis my illness," said Ebenezer. "I fail to see what connection — "

"If this Smith signs my indenture-bond, I'm lost," Tayloe said desperately. "But if 'twere you he bonded. ."

"I?"

"Pray hear me out!" the fat man pleaded. " 'Twould be the answer to both our problems if you served in my stead. I would be free o' Sowter's clutches, and 'tis the master's obligation to feed, clothe, and house his servants, and nurse 'em when they're ill."

Ebenezer screwed up his features as if to aid him in assimilating the idea. "But to be a servant on my own estate!"

"So much the better. Ye can keep your eyes open for ways to get your due. And once I'm free, d'ye think I'll e'er forget your kindness? I'll move Heav'n and earth in your behalf; notify your father — "

"Nay, not that!" Ebenezer blanched at the thought.

"Governor Nicholson, then," Tayloe amended hastily. "I'll petition Nicholson himself, rouse the folk in Dorset to your cause! They'll ne'er sit idly whilst their Laureate leads a servant's life!"

"But four years a menial — "

"Fogh! 'Twill never last four weeks, once I set to work. 'Tis the master o' Malden ye'll be indented to, not Smith himself, and as soon as Malden's in your hands again, ye may use your bond for a bumswipe."

Ebenezer laughed uneasily. "I cannot say your plan hath not some merits — "

" 'Twill save your life, and mine as well!"

"— and yet I scarce can fancy Sowter's hearing you out, much less agreeing."

"There is the key to't!" Tayloe whispered urgently, and drew the Laureate closer. " 'Twere wise you make the plea — and not to Sowter, but to Smith, who hath no reason to be my enemy. One servant should be as good as another to him."

"Yet if 'twere I," Ebenezer mused, recalling again the story of his wet nurse, "I'd be more inclined to hire a healthy servant than an ill."

"Not if the ill is willing," Tayloe corrected, "whilst the healthy shows every sign o' making trouble. Make your bargain with Smith, as if 'twere but your motive to regain your health and redress the great injustice of my case."

Ebenezer smiled bitterly. "He knows me already for a man most interested in justice! And belike 'twill please him to have his erstwhile master for a common servant. ."

Tayloe made as if to embrace him. "Bless ye, sir! Ye'll do't, then?"

Ebenezer drew back. "I've not consented, mind. But 'tis that or suicide, and so it deserves some thought."

Tayloe caught his hand and kissed it. " 'Sheart, sir, thou'rt a very Christian saint!"

"Which is to say, fit meat for martyring," the Laureate answered, "a morsel for the wide world's lions."

The reappearance of Sowter on deck ended their conversation. "Say what ye will," he declared, not clearly apropos of anything, " 'twas a passing fine property to lose, by Martin's rum pot, and were I in thy shoes I'd do all in my power to retrieve it — e'en if 'twere no more than praying to St. Elian, the recoverer of lost goods."

As he spoke he was gazing narrow-eyed out to sea, so that for a moment Ebenezer feared he'd overheard their plans and was hatching some retaliation. But then he said, "Lookee yonder, lad," and with a sheaf of rolled-up documents pointed westward in the direction of his gaze. Though still some two or three miles from shore, the sloop had beaten close enough on its starboard tack so that individual trees could be distinguished — maples and oaks on the higher ground and loblolly pines near the beach — and a boat dock could be seen extending toward them from a lawn of grass that ran back to a white wooden house of gracious design and ample dimensions.

"Is there a tale to that one too?" Ebenezer asked without interest.

"St. Veronica's sacred snot-rag, boy, thou'rt a better judge than I," the lawyer laughed. " 'Tis Malden."

As Sowter's sloop drew nearer to the shore, the estate became visible in more detail, and Ebenezer gazed at it with an ever queasier stomach. The house, to be sure, was somewhat smaller than he had anticipated, and of perishable white-painted clapboards rather than the fieldstone one might wish for; the grounds, too, evidenced little attention to artful landscaping on the part of his father and indifferent care on the part of the residents. But viewed through the triple lenses of fever, loss, and earliest childhood memories, the place took on a noble aspect.