..::The 1701 broadside song "Captain Kid's Farewell to the Seas, or, the Famous Pirate's Lament" lists "Two hundred bars of gold, and rix dollars manifold, we seized uncontrolled".
This belief made its contributions to literature in Edgar Allan Poe's "The Gold-Bug"; Washington Irving's "The Devil and Tom Walker"; Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island and Nelson DeMille's Plum Island.
It also gave impetus to the constant treasure hunts conducted on Oak Island in Nova Scotia; in Suffolk County, Long Island in New York where Gardiner's Island is located; Charles Island in Milford, Connecticut; the Thimble Islands in Connecticut; Cockenoe Island in Westport, Connecticut;and on the island of Grand Manan in the Bay of Fundy.
Captain Kidd did bury a small cache of treasure on Gardiners Island in a spot known as Cherry Tree Field; however, it was removed by Governor Bellomont and sent to England to be used as evidence against Kidd.
Kidd also visited Block Island around 1699, where he was supplied by Mrs. Mercy (Sands) Raymond, daughter of the mariner James Sands.
The story has it that, for her hospitality, Mrs. Raymond was bid to hold out her apron, into which Kidd threw gold and jewels until it was full. After her husband Joshua Raymond died, Mercy moved with her family to northern New London, Connecticut (later Montville), where she bought much land. The Raymond family was thus said to have been "enriched by the apron"::..
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The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interr'd with their bones.
William Shakespeare
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Emlyn looked out from her second floor window onto the pear orchard and big oak tree just outside her boudoir, noticing the dark and light greens here shading into red and gold. Decidedly a different view from either Nob Hill or Massachusetts. Neither fog nor storms here, but a clear fall day of bright blue and white.
She liked it rather well.
It was a different room from her last here, which had looked out front upon the drive and big barn. Here she was situated in a corner bedroom facing the rear of the house. Oddly, she found a second window in her large walk-in closet. Handy, that.
Mrs. Murphy had been welcoming, although busy when they had arrived the previous evening, pressing pears for cider.
'Many do become rather bruised, yet they're verra good still,' her landlady explained. 'We bottle the juice and keep it til it hardens.' She winked at Em, 'And, just a bit of ginger and lemon spices it up nicely, eh?'
And so after unloading the waggon, Em had taken her things upstairs and then turned her hand to cider-making with the others. It felt good to move about after her long trip on the road. She slept well that night after a late supper of cob corn and chicken and dumplings.
Today...was a Friday, she supposed. Thinking she would pay a visit to Jeanne's old shop in town, now become Shannon's, she washed and dressed for 'town', thinking what a relief it was not to have to dress to the nines just to go outside, as was de rigeur on Nob Hill.
A simple summer frock with her hair plaited in a single braid should do well enough for Arcadia. Em rather liked that as well.
. . . . .
Was this the place?
Emlyn thought she could recall the small burg easily; not much to it, really. She remembered The Bear's Den, there at the other end of town near the park. That was the neighborhood public house, where the ceidlih was held at various festivals celebrating the wheel of the year, as well as hosting the usual wakes and weddings.
A small tea shop and cafe was found farther on beside the post office, then a dry-goods shop and general store, MacAfferty's, which took pride of place in the midst of town, a large two storey building with plenty of storage room. Beyond this was a dentist and doctor and vet, all being the same person, Dr. Markham, who kept rooms above the barber shop.
There were disturbances rarely; what there were, then went to the sheriff's office in the next county. Somewhat beyond the edge of town stood the village smithy, near the creek which ran beside the town proper. This also served as the makeshift fire department when the kirk bell rang the alarm. The kirk itself, a simple white building with steeple and Celtic cross, was at the side of the smithy, off upon a wee rise.
Emlyn thought she recalled Jeanne's shop had been situated somewhere near the cafe'...she decided to take some tea and inquire.
The light tinkle of small bells announced her arrival to the tea shop, Pomona's, she saw. The apple goddess, Em thought; how very apt.
An apple-cheeked young girl was behind the counter, adding fresh hot water to the coffee pot. Emlyn perused the glass baker's case which held a variety of delights:
apple fritters, apple tarts, pear tarts, and, oh, a rarity in the City, fresh hazelnut scones. Emlyn hesitated not.
'May I try one of your scones? And a cup of Earl Grey, please?' As the girl was pouring water for tea, Em asked, 'Do you know of a small shop selling herbal sachets and soaps and such? I thought it was near by...'
'Ah.' The girl lidded the teapot, and added a scone to a rose-befested plate. 'That t'would be Miss Shannon's place, just 'round the corner. 'Tis next door, but facing Hazel and not Main.'
Em took a window seat and smiled at the girl as she delivered the tea. 'Smells lovely, thank you.'
The girl hesitated but a moment. 'Would you be visiting here then?'
Em wondered. Was she? Or would she stay on this time? 'I'm at Mrs. Murphy's place. I'm not yet certain how long I'll be staying.'
'Ah. Mrs. Murphy is a grand lady. She has the pear orchard.' The girl turned and cloth in hand, began dusting the already clean window sills.
'Yes. I helped with the pear pressing last night.' Em took a bite of scone. Light and moist, currants and hazelnuts; a dream come true.
Emlyn and the girl, Maggie was her name, chatted as she finished her tea, then she decided she would see if Shannon had opened her shop next door.
Rounding the corner, Em thought the place looked somewhat familiar but not entirely; there were window boxes of geraniums and marigolds which brightened the shop front now. A new wooden and iron work bench sat beside the door.
Emlyn peeked in the window, but the bright late morning sun made it too hard to make out much within. The tinkle of faery bells sounded as she opened the door.
''Morning! May I help you?' Shannon's voice. But where was Shannon?
'Where are you?' Em asked, turning about.
'Emlyn?! That isna you, is't?' A blond head poked up suddenly from behind the back counter. 'Ah!' Shannon it was, grinning wide. 'Tis Herself! Back from the Beyond!'
'Shannon! Oh, it's good to see you! You don't know how right you are,' Em admitted, embracing her young friend.
'So. Back at Mrs. Murphy's now are you?' Shannon stood hands on hips, sharp eyes accessing Emlyn carefully. 'And for how long this time?'
Em sighed softly.
'I'm not sure. But, I am hoping to stay on a while.'
'Are ya now?' Shannon's tone was a bit accusatory.
'Well, things have changed here a mite.' She glanced about her. 'Ah, help me take these pots outside, then we'll have a wee chat on the bench, eh?'
Emlyn gathered pots of herbal starts of rosemary, thyme, parsley and basil, setting them down upon a scrollwork trolley outside beside small pots of mint and lavender.
'So! You're running Jeanne's old shop now? It looks grand, Shannon. The flower boxes really brighten up the storefront.' Em took a seat in on the bench.
Shannon cranked out her green and white striped awning for more shade then joined Em upon the bench.
'Thank you. Yes, I have done a bit of work on it! Fairly happy with it, for the most part. I'm thinking of enlarging it a bit though; there's plenty of yard in back. I may turn it into a flower garden there. Now I sell flowers from my home garden, but having it all here would be ever so handy. Perhaps come spring. So. What brings you here from the City, then?'
'Just, tired of the City life, I think.' Emlyn glanced down, wondering where to begin. 'I was staying at the Massachusetts estate a while. It's nearly winter there now!'
'That place always storms on and on.' Shannon looked pensive. 'And Daryl? Don Diego, or whatever he is? Still kicking then?'
Emlyn wasn't sure. 'I suppose,' she huffed. 'I've rather given up keeping tabs on the bugger.'
'Ha!' Shannon barked a laugh. 'That sounds more like you, Em.' She shook her head. 'That one is a bit more bother than he's worth, I'm thinking. But, to each their own...' She broke off a head of dried lavender from the large pot beside her, and held it to her nose.
'I'm keeping myself free and easy.' She handed the lavender to Emlyn. 'I've enough on my plate at the moment wi'the shop and all. The single life suits.' She sighed shortly. 'Not so, for our Jeanne.'
'I heard something about that from Mrs. M.!' Emlyn twirled the flower head in hand. 'Well, do tell! What is he like, then, her new mister?'
'Indeed; Mr. and Mrs. Kidd, so they are. And no Kidding, either!' Shannon shook her head ruefully.
'Well...'tis Friday. Mayhap we'll just take a run over there and say hello later, eh? Are ya busy, then?'
'...As you see,' Emlyn spread her hands, indicating her availability. 'I must confess to some curiosity. The name Kidd has some rather piratical connotations.'
'Ah, Em...' Shannon chuckled. 'Aye, it does. And I truly don't know what to think there...the man denies having anything to do with "pirates", yet he claims that he is related to THE Captain Kidd. He refers to his ancestor as a "privateer" and with letters of marque from William III, etcetera; oh, I fear ya will hear all about it.'
'But, Shannon, what is he like? Old, young, and is he a nice man?' Emlyn was fair on edge with curiosity.
Shannon sat still a moment. 'He...seems very nice, indeed.' She fussed about her lavender pot, pulling small grasses from it. 'He is very, oh, expansive, is the word, I suppose.
'They have a large house, and he owns rather a lot of acreage, with orchards, almond and walnut mostly.
So he does come by some money, somehow. Claims to have holdings back in Scotland as well, even alludes to an "earldom" of sorts.' Her eyes rolled.
'Hm.' Em was not impressed thus far; hearing only what the man owned, rather than who and what he was. 'I suppose that Allyn was not pleased.'
Shannon slowly shook her head. 'No, indeed.' She tossed the small weeds and grasses she'd pulled over the picket fence into the wood beyond. 'And we all liked Allyn well, ya ken.'
'So...this partnering with Mr. Kidd sounds rather sudden?' Em guessed.
'Umm.' Shannon seemed disinclined to elaborate. 'Weel, you'll find out more y'rself soon enough tonight. How about meeting me around five-ish and we shall journey forth from here?'
Shannon stood, brushing her skirts. 'And now, I have some transplanting to see to.'
'Of course,' Emlyn took the hint. 'Five it is.' She smiled then. 'And it is grand to see you again.'
Shannon relented, smiling in return. 'Aye, well, don't be such a stranger, then.' The two friends parted with a brief hug.
'I won't. Promise.' Em then turned her toes in the direction of Mrs. Murphy's and headed off.
Shannon gazed after her, wondering. Just pops in and out whenever she feels like it, she thought. Must be nice.
Emlyn spent the afternoon getting to know the other lodgers that were about, helping Mrs. Murphy with the cider making, collecting eggs from the hens and even milking the nanny goat, before she was summoned to the house for "tay" or tea, as Mrs. Murphy referred to the early evening meal. (Lunch was "dinner" here, and then came the "tea", which was a high tea with an entree', salad, rolls and such and later, "supper" which was sometimes leftovers from dinner with dessert and drinks.)
After informing her good landlady that she was off with Shannon to Jeanne's, she set off to town and found Shannon hitching up a bay mare to a wee cart outside of her shop.
'Aye, a cart was needed when I took over the shop. Sommat to transport stock and such. And Artemis is a grand mare! She is ever so willing, anytime.'
Em patted the sleek bay neck. 'Seems a young horse.'
'She is...four now.' Shannon replied. 'She does become excited at times, but she's steadying. She lacks nought in get-up-and-go, though! Ready?'
Em nodded and they hopped up onto the driver's seat and were off with a 'Walk on!' from Shannon.
Emlyn could tell as they headed into the high hills that it had been getting cooler nights here now; the leaf tops of sycamores were tinged with yellows and orange. Fall was not far away.
After about a half hour, Shannon turned down a dirt road headed east and into a stand of almond trees.
'Now we're coming onto the Kidd's estate,' Shannon informed her. Almonds here. There are walnut trees farther down, behind the house itself. He also has some fine horses, Thoroughbreds for the racing, mostly.'
'I see.' Emlyn wondered, though. Had Jeanne changed much herself with all this great largesse to hand? Or perhaps she'd always been fond of the grand life and Em hadn't known her that well after all.
Once past the orchards, Shannon steered the still willing Artemis down an oak lined drive which bordered a small creek. They climbed over a wee stone bridge as the creek changed direction and at last they came to the Kidd residence.
A proper Scottish hunting lodge it seemed; built of stone, redwood and cedar, it was fashioned on a large scale. Although it seemed to be only a two storey dwelling, with acreage to spare, it rambled into more of a spread; 'ranch' style, as Californians preferred.
Red and yellow lions flanked a herald of sorts and beside this flew the blue and white flag of St. Andrew's Cross. Emlyn was slightly disappointed not to see the Jolly Roger as well.
Shannon drove past the mansion to the yard in back by the stables and they disembarked. Emlyn wandered over to the stalls whilst Shannon spoke to a couple of grooms.
The stable was nothing less than gorgeous. White wood with black trim, it was spotlessly cleaned, the hay was green and fresh and all smelled of new wood and old leathers. She sauntered into the tack room and fell in love with the array of polished bits and bridles, saddles of various sorts, cruppers, martingales, and all the lines and fittings for driving, row upon row of saddle and horse blankets, clean and freshly laundered.
As she strolled down the rows of stalls, she saw a few noses therein and she gingerly made acquaintance with those who seemed gentle and willing. Emlyn was never sure of any strange horse, and who knew if some were not there but to recuperate from some injury or other.
But she found one dapple grey gelding who seemed as curious about her as she was of he, and after breathing into each other's noses, he snorted softly and allowed Em to stroke his neck and scratch under his chin til he stretched his neck and groaned with pleasure.
'I see you've made a friend.'
Emlyn turned about to find one of the grooms approaching. He was a tall, lanky man with auburn hair tied back in a ponytail, dressed in hunter green and sporting riding boots and jodpurs.
'I assure you, sir, he made the first overture...' Em gave the gray a last pat.
'Old Geordie? Aye, I'm sure he did,' replied the groom, fishing out a thick short carrot from his pocket and handing it to Em. 'See how he likes that.'
'He likes it fine,' Em smiled as Geordie made quick work of carrot. 'Such a wonderful stable here!' She stretched her arms wide. 'I think I would be happy to stay here myself. Lucky beasts!'
The groom smiled gently, hands in pockets. 'You like it here, eh?'
Em nodded, and returned to her trek down the stalls. 'I thought that for a Scottish laird and all, he might be keeping at least one Clydesdale or twa.' She stopped suddenly.
'Where are my manners! I'm Emlyn.' She offered her hand to the groom, who took it in his.
'And you may call me Alex.' He didn't shake her hand but only held it for a time in both of his, smiling all the while. At last he dropped it and taking her elbow, he gently guided them outside and over to a great barn beside the stable.
'So it's the Clydes that interest ye? We need a bigger stall for a bigger harse, then, eh?'
Through the large double doors, both front and rear, she noted, they walked the cement floor, clean but strewn with straw about, to the rear where, in answer to the groom's short whistle, a great brown and white head came up over the stall and released a great neigh of stentorian strength. Em imagined the very walls shaking.
'Sounds like someone knows you there.' Emlyn followed the groom up to the great "harse". She had found that, on the whole, although the beasts were epic in proportion, they were usually the most gentle of giants.
'Ah, noo...keep it down, ye great wee babbie.' The groom went to a row of wooden barrels and scooped up a portion of oats. 'This is Bruce. He's an easy lad for the oats. Open both yer hands,' he told Em, as he poured it in.
Holding out her hands as flat as she could whilst not spilling grain, Em made her offering to the big Clyde, who accepted heartily, munching down and whuffling off half the oats with his excited breath.
The groom made soothing noises to the heavy horse as he ducked under the 'gate' which closed the stall's opening, and began patting the titan as he lifted his big feathered feet and checked his hooves, keeping up a running babble to the beast to settle him.
Em wandered about the huge barn, envisioning what a grand barn dance they could have here! Feeling her oats, she whirled about and found her feet sketching a wee jig upon the cement floor.
'Ever had a barn dance here, Alex?'
'Eh?' The auburn head came up over the stall. He ducked beneath the gate and gave Bruce a goodbye pat. 'A barrn dance, is it?'
'You've certainly the room!' Emlyn fairly skipped about the barn floor. She studied the hayloft above. 'I always have to hold myself back from leaping into a new pile of hay. It just looks so...as if made just for the leaping!' Em climbed part way up the ladder, and studied the piles of fresh hay in the big rack below.
'Help yourself to the leppin'.' Alex focused a half grin at her.
'No!' Em shook her head. 'I couldn't! Well, I'm certainly not going to be the only one!'
Alex came up the ladder behind her. Before she knew it, he had 'helped' her over and into the hay pile with a wee tip-over!
However, he hadn't reckoned on Emlyn's quick grab of his arm as she tumbled and, as gravity obliged, the both of them went down and into the hay.
'Ya right daft booger, you!' Emlyn spat hay as she floundered, pulling the stuff out of her hair. But she was smiling.
Alex was chuckling, seemingly fair pleased with himself. Em had thought him to be rather shy and a bit reserved at first, but there seemed to be a devilish side prone to the odd bit of mischief there too.
'And just whit the devvil iss this, then?!'
Emlyn and Alex righted themselves and gazing toward the doorway, found Shannon and Jeanne standing there. Even in silhouette, Jeanne seemed to be eminating a sort of frisson of irritation.
'Ah. There you are, cariad.' Alex stood and brushed himself off, holding out a hand to Emlyn who was struggling to right herself and appear less of a beggar maid fresh from a pilfered bed of straw.
Like a pair of naughty children, Emlyn and Alex, shedding straw and hayseeds, approached the women.
Emlyn noted that while Shannon seemed grinning fit to burst whilst narrowly holding her tongue, that Jeanne had raised her chin on high and looked down upon the both of them like an offended empress.
'Emlyn!' Jeanne spoke at last. 'So...interesting to see you.' She coughed and waved away some of the straw dust hazing the air.
'Do allow me to introduce my husband,' Jeanne's narrow gaze shot to the tall, auburn haired "groom": 'Alexander William Hamish Douglas Kidd. My DEAR husband.'
'Earl of Grennock, at yer service...' Alex bowed low, -- The great daft booger.
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Hector Berlioz- Rob Roy Overture 1831
