Chapter 4
4
SALEM, 1764
Ambrose Corwin had been restless on this voyage in a way he hadn’t been during any of the previous ones. As the schooner he was captain of sailed into the port of Salem town, he had been hit by such a strong sense of having been here before it caused him to bend over double as all the air expelled from his lungs. A rough hand clapped against his back, almost tipping him off balance.
‘What’s up with ye, captain, a little late to lose your sea legs now?’
He straightened up, adjusted his shoulder-length hair that was tied back with a piece of thin ribbon and straightened his tricorne so the hat looked as respectable as it should. He smiled at John Beckett, his lieutenant and second in command.
‘I have never felt better, Beckett.’
‘Seems to me you are telling lies, captain, but I’ll not argue with you over that one, your face is as white as the driven snow.’
Beckett walked away, leaving Ambrose staring at the portside. He closed his eyes and was there walking up and down it, a lad of maybe sixteen or seventeen waiting on the merchant ships to dock. He saw himself bartering with sailors and passengers, exchanging coins for books, he saw a forest and somewhere in that forest was a small, rough cabin with lots of books. The memories so real, so vivid, he lifted the back of his hand to feel his brow in case he was coming down with a fever. It was then his gaze fell upon the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on. She had hair the colour of a black bird, hanging down her back in loose curls, and a lace cap on her head. Tucked under one arm were some books and she was smiling at a small girl who was staring up at her with her palm outstretched. This beautiful lady took out a small purse from the pocket of the emerald gown she was wearing and passed the child some coins. The child did a small curtsy then ran off before her kind benefactor could change her mind. As the lady looked up, she saw Ambrose watching her and gave him a coy smile and a small wave of her gloved hand, then turned and walked out of his life, taking his heart with her at the same time. Ambrose knew that woman even though he had never set eyes on her before in this lifetime that he knew of, and pushed to get to the gangplank as the ship was being tied to its moorings along the dockside. He looked at the deckhands who were being too slow.
‘Put your back into it, lads, I need to disembark now.’
No sooner had the narrow planks settled than he was off running, his cap in his hand to stop the sea breeze that was blowing across the churning waters of the bay from taking it. He knew he was acting irrationally, but he could not let her get away from him, he must speak with her. He looked around; she was nowhere to be seen, but the child was there on the corner of the wharf with a younger boy.
‘You, did you see where the woman went who gave you the coins?’
She shook her head. ‘What woman?’
‘I do not want your coins, and I do not want anything other than to know how to find her.’
The girl looked at the boy, who shrugged his shoulders as he held out the palm of his grubby hand. ‘I can show you where she lives.’
Ambrose pushed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a small foreign coin that he doubted would be of much use to the boy and handed it over. The boy lifted it up to his face and studied it, decided it would do and pushed it into his pocket.
‘Follow me.’
‘Thomas.’ His sister’s voice was stern. ‘You better not, her aunts will curse you.’
Thomas laughed. ‘Those wild ladies will not, they like me, Bridget, so mind yourself.’
Ambrose watched the children intently, wishing he had siblings he could bicker with, then he reminded himself why he was watching them.
‘I am in a hurry.’
‘Follow me then, captain, and do not listen to my sister.’
The boy took off much faster than Ambrose had expected, who followed as best as he could through the bustling crowds. Turning back to take a look at his ship, he saw Beckett watching him, hands on his hips, head shaking from side to side but with a grin on his face. Then Ambrose was pushing through the people to keep up with Thomas, the crowds thinning out as they got inland, and he found himself following the boy through a maze of narrow streets.
‘Are you leading me a merry dance or do you know where she lives?’
‘I know. I have better things to do with my time than take you on a chase through Salem for no good reason.’
Ambrose smiled. Young Thomas reminded him a little of his younger self. Eventually he found himself on a large expanse of hilly grass. There were several houses dotted around the edges of it. Thomas stopped and pointed to one furthest away with a white picket fence around it.
‘That’s where she lives, her mother and two aunts live there, and they will likely chase you away unless you know them or need their help.’
He turned to Thomas. ‘What kind of help?’
‘If you are sick, they can make you better, they can give you a spell to make you fall in love, they can give you the pox too if you are a bother to them.’
‘Can they now, are you telling me that they are witches?’
Thomas lifted a finger to his lips. ‘Shh, we do not use that word here in Salem. Any person called a witch is sure to suffer a terrible fate. They used to swing anyone like that from the end of a rope and it is all very terrible. We call them healers, but never, ever witches.’
Thomas gave a quick bow to Ambrose then turned and ran away, back to his sister no doubt, and Ambrose found himself walking across the grassy field to reach the house that seemed familiar, yet he knew he had never been here.
Before he even reached the gate to the house the woman of his dreams appeared, her emerald gown replaced with a simple grey linen dress and her beautiful curls tied back in a manner almost identical to his. She stared at him for a few moments, her striking green eyes narrowing slightly.
‘Why have you followed me home, sir, I do not know you?’
He paused; how could he say what he wanted to say to her when he did not know her either?
‘I am Captain Ambrose Corwin, at your service.’ He performed a bow similar to the one Thomas had made minutes before.
She laughed and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
‘And what service would that be?’
He stumbled, he did not know and found himself staring into her eyes, mesmerised as if in some kind of trance. The sound of flapping wings broke his gaze as a big black crow swooped down to land on her shoulder, making his entire body jolt backwards.
‘Shoo, get away, bird.’ Ambrose waved his hands at the crow, which made the woman laugh even more.
‘You cannot chase him away; he is not scared of you, and he is my pet. Hades, this is Captain Ambrose, he is at our service.’
Ambrose stared at the woman. ‘You have that wild bird as a pet?’
She pulled a face at him, lifting a hand to stroke the bird’s glossy black feathers and whispering, ‘Hades, he means no harm. I think Captain Ambrose is under a spell of some kind.’
‘What kind of spell would that be, miss, I do not even know your name.’ But a voice inside his head whispered Isadora and he wondered what her answer would be.
‘My name is Isadora English and, forgive me, but have we met before? You do seem familiar the longer I look at you.’
Ambrose could not lie, he had never met her before, yet he knew her name, he knew her beauty and he wondered perhaps if he was enchanted. If she was a witch as Thomas had claimed, had she put a spell on him when their eyes had locked down by the port?
‘I feel as if we did know each other perhaps in a different time. This may sound strange, and forgive my forwardness, but I think I am in love with you, Isadora English.’
Ambrose smiled to himself at that particular memory, which he had managed to store at the back of his mind forever, releasing all the others he hadn’t realised he had, he had indeed known this woman and loved her more than life itself. He had kept his promise to Isadora and not told a soul about her mother’s spell book. After Dora had been taken from him the first time in 1692, six months later he had gone looking for his hidden bookstore to see if there was a way to bring her back, but things had changed. The woods were much denser, thicker and the brambles so thorny they had taken over all of the old paths he’d known, making it impossible to find. He had spent days searching for the right path; he needed that book, perhaps it could make things right.