Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (32 page)

"Where is The Wolf now?"

"Dead, his wife too," he said, tapping his pipe out.

"What about Jean Michel's brother. Does he live at the family home?"

"No, I think I heard once that he was studying in
France
. Jean Michel takes care of the place, but most of the time he's in the interior."

"The
interior?
Is that the woods?"

"Yep, the wild, the woods. He does land surveys."

"So this Jean Michel, he is alone?" asked Darcy.

"No, I didn't say that. He's been with some woman down there for years. She lives somewhere on the Piscataqua too."

There was a long silence, as Darcy absorbed the news that Jean Michel had a woman. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach.
So all of the affection he had showered on her had been self-serving--merely an attempt to lure her into a liaison
.

Darcy stood up and swung her cape over her shoulders, "Moses, I must go now. That sky looks full of snow. Just to be safe, may I leave Shenanigan now?"

"Yes, we could be snowed in early this year," he said looking outside.

She bent down and kissed his old leathered cheek, hugged Shenanigan tightly and set out into the cold wind. Several flakes of snow fell on her cloak, as she walked back to the fort. By the time Darcy reached the gate, she was practically blinded by white.

It snowed all that evening and right through the following day. The flakes were large and heavily laden with moisture. The snow blanketed everything, and when Darcy looked out onto the parade ground, it was well up to the knees of the soldiers as they struggled to their posts. She had never experienced anything like it. The snow was infrequent in
Ireland
, even in the mountains, and it never accumulated in such huge amounts.

She dined with Nathan that evening, something which she had not done in weeks. He was usually too busy to sit down to supper, and she was frequently out of the fort at that time. They sat alone in the candlelight of the dining room and were served supper by Nathan's cook, Molly.

Darcy noticed that Nathan was quiet tonight, and she conducted most of the conversation while he ate his chop in silence. After giving her impressions of the snow, she asked, "How long before this melts?"

"What?" Nathan asked, as if coming out of a dream.

"Certainly this snow won't last. It's only mid-November," she said.

"You don't realize do you?" he said looking at her, clearly astonished. "This is the northern part of Massachusetts Colony. We are snowed in here now until spring, my girl."

Darcy sat staring at him in disbelief.
It was too early; certainly, this snow was a fluke and would melt in a week.
Then she remembered with a jolt that the supplies had not made it through yet.

"But we can't be snowed in. The supplies are not here! There is not enough food to get us through the winter!"

"We will get by," he said and took another bite of his chop, looking down sullenly.

It was apparent now why Nathan had been so quiet through dinner. He was worried. If he hadn't been so smug about the arrival of the food, none of this would have happened, thought Darcy. Hot anger boiled up inside her, and she said, "If you would have just sent out a hunting party, we would have food enough for the winter. This is your fault, Nathan!"

Immediately she wished that she could retract her words. He slammed his fist down on the table sending the dishes up into the air and down again with a crash, "I'll not have your insolent attitude!"

Darcy stood up, throwing her napkin onto her plate and ran from the room.

She could not breathe. She ran through the front room and out the door, gasping the cold night air.
This could not be happening. She survived starvation once; she could not endure it again.
It all passed before her eyes: the nagging pain, the grotesquely bloated bodies and the smell of burning flesh as a funeral pyre was lit. As horrible as these images were, Darcy feared the silence the most-- the silence which came from no energy to speak and the quiet resignation that life was no longer worth enduring.

Darcy gasped for air, and then she felt someone pulling her skirt frantically. She looked down and saw Molly's five-year-old boy gazing up at her, terrified.

"What's wrong? Are you sick? Should I get Mama?"

Darcy realized where she was and shook her head. She tousled his hair and said, "I am just fine. I just needed some fresh air." She turned him around, giving him a playful spank on his bottom, sending him back to his mother.

Feeling chilled and unsteady, she returned to the front room, shutting the door behind her and held her hands out to the fire. When she looked into the little boy’s terrified eyes, she realized that she must not scare these people with the horrors of hunger. They must not know what was ahead.

Darcy reached up and took out her chain. That old pewter cross had pulled her through starvation once, and this time she had Father Etienne's charm to give her hope. In
Ireland
there had been no spring to live for, no end in sight. In the
New World
, there was rebirth and optimism. She would survive.

*
             
*
           
*

Initially, life changed little at
Fort
Lawrence
. Food was rationed immediately and most people, although eating less, felt no nagging hunger.

It was not until after Christmas when they were reduced to hard tack and salt pork a few times a week that everyone became alarmed.

The first to sicken were the elderly. Although they were few in number; they all died within a month. Darcy knew that illness and disease always preceded starvation. It mercifully weeded out the weak but left the strong behind to battle the agony.

The snow continued to fall, and the cold grew in intensity. North winds blew in the faces of the soldiers as they walked along the shoveled paths around the fort. They kept their faces down and their shoulders up, but nothing seemed to help them escape the bitter wind on their cheeks.

Most days Darcy stayed inside by the front room fire, spinning or working on a quilt. There was plenty of dry wood to heat everyone's quarters, and she knew that they were all blessed that they did not have to struggle to stay warm too.

During the day, Nathan would work in his office, but in the evening he would join her by the fire. They discussed the affairs of the day, and some nights they would sit side by side and read. They never mentioned the hunger.

Nathan noticed how thin Darcy had become. She took less food than the others, and he wondered if once a body experienced starvation, it can exist thereafter on less. Although she never mentioned the Irish famine to him, Nathan was aware that it had happened. The English had turned a blind eye to its existence, and some even saw it as divine retribution for being Catholic. He never thought he would experience hunger himself. He wondered what she was thinking or remembering during this time, he wondered if she hated him.

Twelfth Night approached, and Darcy asked Nathan if she might go down and see Moses. "You are so naive. You cannot walk through this deep snow, my darling."

"I thought that I might try using those wide Indian shoes. I just wanted to bring him a small gift for Twelfth Night."

The fire crackled and snapped as Darcy waited for a reply from Nathan. He reached over from his chair and squeezed her hand, "My dear, do you have the strength?"

"I may look thin, Nathan, but I am not weak."

Nathan agreed, and with the weather cooperating, she strapped on a pair of snow-shoes and set out for Moses' cabin. She found it amazing how the shoes kept her on top of the snow, and although they were clumsy, they were efficient.

The sun was out and the air was crisp, but not bitter. It felt glorious to be away from the fort, and it was a pleasant diversion from the hunger. As she passed through the woods, she spied a red cardinal feeding on some pine nuts in the snow. The scarlet red against the pristine snow was the first bit of beauty she had seen in months. She marveled at how the rugged frontier held beauty even in the depths of winter. As she approached Moses’ clearing, she heard a dog barking, and she shouted, "Shenanigan, come here, boy!" He burst through the trees and practically jumped into her arms. Darcy didn't realize how much she had missed her old friend, and with light hearts they walked toward the cabin.

The door swung open and there stood Moses giving Darcy a large toothless grin. "Well, well look who's here. Come in and warm your bones. I see you are using snowshoes."

Darcy stepped inside the cabin and practically fainted from the smell of dinner.

The fire crackled under a big cast iron pot, and Moses swung open the oven door, pulling out a tray of biscuits.

"Here sit down. You are just in time to eat. There's plenty here. I always make enough for a couple of days.

Darcy removed her cloak and sat down by the fire. He poured her some cider and filled her plate then he filled his own. After giving thanks, Darcy put a spoonful of stew into her mouth. She must not look too anxious, Moses may grow suspicious. As she emptied her bowl and drank her cider, she felt the life-giving nourishment course through her body. Moses looked at her out of the corner of his eye and pushed the platter toward her. "Here, take some more. There's plenty."

Powerless to refuse, Darcy ate until she was satisfied, and sank back into her chair exhausted. The long walk through the snow and good food relaxed her completely.

"Why are you so thin, Darcy?" asked Moses, suspiciously.

"I've been sick for some time, but I am on the mend," she lied. Darcy knew that he would question her appearance, so she had answers prepared ahead of time.

Having another cider by the fire, they visited contentedly all afternoon, and when the shadows started to fall, Darcy said, "I've brought you a small gift in honor of Nollaig na mBan."

"Oh!” he laughed. “I haven't heard Twelfth Night called that since me pappy died."

She handed him a sampler she had been working on for the past two months. On the cloth was an Irish Blessing and sprinkled everywhere were tiny embroidered shamrocks. She had stretched it over a crude frame. "I know that you can't read it, Moses, but the spirit of the blessing will be upon your home."

"Tell me what it says, Darcy," he asked.

She picked up the sampler and read,

 
"
Wishing you always-

 
Walls for the wind,

 
And a roof for the rain,

 
And tea beside the fire.

 
Laughter to cheer you,

 
And those you love near you,

 
And all that your heart might desire!"

Moses turned his head brushing a tear from his eye. He had missed Darcy this winter, and her kindness touched him. Admiring her workmanship, he thanked her and rested the sampler against the chimney in the center of the mantle. Then he reached into a box full of whittling tools and produced a small whistle for Darcy.

"You made that for me? There are many folk in
Ireland
that play the whistle well, and now I can learn too." She put it to her lips and blew a shrill note.