Stern Men

EPILOGUE

BY THE SUMMER OF 1982, the Skillet County Fishing Cooperative was doing a pretty good business for the three dozen lobstermen of Fort Niles Island and Courne Haven Island who had joined it. The office of the cooperative was located in the sunny front room of what had once been the Ellis Granite Company Store but was now the Intra-Island Memorial Museum of Natural History. The cooperative’s founder and manager was a competent young woman named Ruth Thomas-Wishnell. Over the past five years, Ruth had bullied and cajoled her relatives and most of her neighbors into entering the delicate network of trust that made the Skillet County Co-op successful.

To put it simply, this had not been simple.

The idea for the cooperative had come to Ruth the first time she saw her father and Owney’s uncle Babe Wishnell in the same room together. This was at the christening of Ruth and Owney’s son, David, in early June of 1977. The christening took place in the living room of Mrs. Pommeroy’s home, was performed by the cheerless Pastor Toby Wishnell, and was witnessed by a handful of glum-looking residents of both Fort Niles and Courne Haven. Baby David had thrown up all over his borrowed antique christening gown only moments before the ceremony, so Ruth had taken him upstairs to change him into something less elegant but much cleaner. While she was changing him, he’d begun to cry, so she sat with him for a while in Mrs. Pommeroy’s bedroom, letting him nurse at her breast.

When, after a quarter of an hour, Ruth came back to the living room, she noticed that her father and Babe Wishnell-who had not so much as looked at each other all morning, and were sitting sullenly on opposite sides of the room-had each produced a small notebook from somewhere on his person. They were scribbling in these notebooks with identical stubs of pencils and looked utterly absorbed, frowning and silent.

Ruth knew exactly what her father was doing, because she’d seen him do it a million times, so she had no trouble guessing what Babe Wishnell was up to. They were calculating. They were taking care of their lobster business. They were shuffling numbers around, comparing prices, planning where to drop traps, adding expenses, making money. She kept an eye on them both during the brief, unemotional ceremony, and neither man once looked up from his rows of figures.

Ruth got to thinking.

She got to thinking even harder a few months later, when Cal Cooley appeared unannounced at the Natural History Museum, where Ruth and Owney and David were now living. Cal climbed the steep stairs to the apartment above the growing clutter of Senator Simon’s massive collection and knocked on Ruth’s door. He looked miserable. He told Ruth he was on a mission for Mr. Ellis, who, it seemed, had an offer to make. Mr. Ellis wanted to give Ruth the gleaming French Fresnel lens from the Goat’s Rock lighthouse. Cal Cooley could scarcely deliver this news without crying. Ruth got a big kick out of that. Cal had spent months and months polishing every inch of brass and glass on that precious lens, but Mr. Ellis was adamant. He wanted Ruth to have it. Cal could not imagine why. Mr. Ellis had specifically instructed Cal to tell Ruth that she could do whatever she wanted with the thing. Although, Cal said, he suspected Mr. Ellis would like to see the Fresnel lens displayed as the centerpiece of the new museum.

“I’ll take it,” Ruth said, and immediately asked Cal to please leave.

“By the way, Ruth,” Cal said, “Mr. Ellis is still waiting to see you.”

“Fine,” Ruth said. “Thank you, Cal. Out you go.”

After Cal left, Ruth considered the gift she had just been offered. She wondered what it was all about. No, she still had not been up to see Mr. Ellis, who had remained on Fort Niles the entire previous winter. If he was trying to lure her up to Ellis House, she thought, he could forget it; she wasn’t going. Although she did not feel entirely comfortable with the idea of Mr. Ellis hanging about, waiting for her to visit. She knew it upset the chemistry of the island, having Mr. Ellis on Fort Niles as a permanent resident, and she knew her neighbors were aware that she had something to do with it. But she wasn’t going up there. She had nothing to say to him and was not interested in anything he had to say to her. She would, however, accept the Fresnel lens. And, yes, she would do whatever she wanted with it.

That night she had a long conversation with her father, Senator Simon, and Angus Addams. She told them about the gift, and they tried to imagine what the thing was worth. They didn’t have a clue, though. The next day, Ruth started calling auction houses in New York City, which took some research and gumption, but Ruth did it. Three months later, after intricate negotiations, a wealthy man from North Carolina took possession of the Goat’s Rock lighthouse Fresnel lens, and Ruth Thomas-Wishnell had in her hands a check for $22,000.

She had another long conversation.

This one was with her father, Senator Simon, Angus Addams, and Babe Wishnell. She had lured Babe Wishnell over from Courne Haven with the promise of a big Sunday dinner, which Mrs. Pommeroy ended up cooking. Babe Wishnell didn’t much like coming to Fort Niles, but it was hard to refuse the invitation of a young woman who was, after all, now a relative. Ruth said to him, “I had such a good time at your daughter’s wedding, I feel I should thank you with a nice meal,” and he could not turn her down.

It was not the most relaxed meal, but it would have been a good deal less relaxed had Mrs. Pommeroy not been there to flatter and pamper everyone. After dinner, Mrs. Pommeroy served hot rum drinks. Ruth sat at the table, bouncing her son on her lap and laying her idea before Babe Wishnell, her father, and the Addams brothers. She told them she wanted to become a bait dealer. She said she would put up the money for a building to be constructed on the Fort Niles dock, and she would buy the scales and freezers, as well as the heavy boat needed to transport the bait every few weeks from Rockland to the island. She showed them the numbers, which she had been juggling for weeks. She had everything figured out. All she wanted from her father and Angus Addams and Babe Wishnell was their commitment to buy her bait if she gave them a good low price. She could save them ten cents on the bushel right away. And she could save them the trouble of having to cart the bait from Rockland every week.

“You three are the most respected lobstermen on Fort Niles and Courne Haven,” she said, running a light finger over her son’s gums, feeling for a new tooth. “If everyone sees you doing it, they’ll know it’s a good deal.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Angus Addams said.

“Take the money and move to Nebraska,” Senator Simon said.

“I’m in,” Babe Wishnell said, without the slightest hesitation.

“I’m in, too,” said Ruth’s father, and the two high-line fishermen exchanged a glance of recognition. They got it. They understood the concept immediately. The numbers looked good. They weren’t idiots.

After six months, when it was clear that the bait dealership was hugely successful, Ruth founded the cooperative. She made Babe Wishnell the president but kept the office on Fort Niles, which satisfied everyone. She hand-picked a council of directors, composed of the sanest men from both Fort Niles and Courne Haven. Any man who became a member of the Skillet County Cooperative could get special deals on bait and could sell his lobster catch to Ruth Thomas-Wishnell, right there on the Fort Niles dock. She hired Webster Pommeroy to run the scales. He was so simple, nobody ever accused him of cheating. She appointed her father to set the daily lobster prices, which he arrived at by haggling over the telephone with dealers as far away as Manhattan. She hired someone completely neutral-a sensible young man from Freeport-to operate the pound Ruth had had built for storing the lobster catch before it was carted over to Rockland.

There was a good payout for anyone who joined up, and it saved weeks out of each man’s year not to have to haul the catch to Rockland. There were some holdouts at first, of course. Ruth’s father had rocks thrown through the windows of his house, and Ruth got some cold stares on the street, and someone once threatened to burn down the Natural History Museum. Angus Addams did not speak to Ruth or her father for over two years, but, in the end, even he joined. These were, after all, islands of followers, and once the high-liners were on board, it was not difficult to find members. The system was working. It was all working out just fine. Mrs. Pommeroy did all the secretarial tasks in the Skillet Co-op office. She was good at it, patient and organized. She was also great at calming down the lobstermen when they got too worked up or too paranoid or too competitive. Whenever a lobsterman stormed into the office, howling that Ruth was ripping him off or that someone had sabotaged his traps, he was sure to walk out happy and pacified-and with a nice new haircut, besides.

Ruth’s husband and her father were making a fortune fishing together. Owney was Stan’s sternman for two years; then he bought his own boat (a fiberglass boat, the first one on either island; Ruth had talked him into it), but he and Stan still shared profits. They formed their own corporation. Stan Thomas and Owney Wishnell made a dazzling couple. They were fishing wizards. There weren’t enough hours in the day for all the lobsters they were pulling out of the ocean. Owney was a gifted fisherman, a natural fisherman. He came home to Ruth every afternoon with a sort of a glow, a hum, a low buzz of contentment and success. He came home every afternoon satisfied and proud and wanting sex in the worst way, and Ruth liked that. She liked that a lot.

As for Ruth, she too was content. She was satisfied and enormously proud of herself. As far as she was concerned, she pretty much kicked ass. Ruth loved her husband and her little boy, but mostly she loved her business. She loved the lobster pound and bait dealership, and she was pleased as punch with herself for having put together the co-op and for having convinced those big strong lobstermen to join it. All those men, who’d never before had a good word to say about one another! She’d offered them something so smart and efficient that even they had seen the worth of it. And business was great. Now Ruth was thinking about setting up fuel pumps on the docks of both islands. It would be an expensive investment, but it was sure to pay off fast. And she could afford it. She was making a lot of money. She was proud of that, too. She wondered, more than a little smugly, what had become of all her horsey classmates from that ridiculous school in Delaware. They’d probably just got out of college and were getting engaged to pampered idiots at this very moment. Who knew? Who cared?

More than anything, Ruth had a big sense of pride when she thought of her mother and the Ellises, who had tried so hard to drive her away from this place. They had insisted that there was no future for Ruth on Fort Niles, when, as things had turned out, Ruth was the future here. Yes, she was pretty content.

Ruth got pregnant again in the early winter of 1982, when she was twenty-four and David was a quiet five-year-old who spent most of his day trying not to get clobbered by Opal and Robin Pommeroy’s enormous son, Eddie.

“We’re going to have to move out of the apartment now,” Ruth said to her husband when she was sure she was pregnant. “And I don’t want to live in any of the old crappers down on the harbor. I’m sick of being cold all the time. Let’s build our own house. Let’s build a house that makes sense. A big one.”

She knew exactly where she wanted it to be. She wanted to live way up on Ellis Hill, way up at the top of the island, above the quarries, looking out over Worthy Channel and Courne Haven Island. She wanted a grand house and wasn’t ashamed to admit it. She wanted the view and the prestige of the view. Of course, Mr. Ellis owned the land. He owned pretty much all the good land on Fort Niles, so Ruth would have to talk to him if she was serious about building up there. And she was serious. As her pregnancy went on and the apartment began to feel smaller and smaller, Ruth grew even more serious.

Which is why, seven months pregnant and with her little boy in tow, Ruth Thomas-Wishnell drove her father’s truck all the way up the Ellis Road one afternoon in June of 1982, finally seeking a meeting with Mr. Lanford Ellis.

Lanford Ellis had turned a century old that year. His health was hardly robust. He was all alone in Ellis House, that massive structure of black granite, fit for a mausoleum. He hadn’t left Fort Niles in six years. He spent his days by the fireplace in his bedroom, with a blanket around his legs, sitting in the chair that had belonged to his father, Dr. Jules Ellis.

Every morning, Cal Cooley set up a card table near Mr. Ellis’s chair and brought over his stamp albums, a strong lamp, and a powerful magnifying lens. Some of the stamps in the albums were old and valuable and had been collected by Dr. Jules Ellis. Every morning, Cal would make a fire in the fireplace, no matter the season, because Mr. Ellis was always cold. So that was where he was sitting the day Cal Cooley ushered in Ruth.

“Hello, Mr. Ellis,” she said. “It’s nice to see you.”

Cal directed Ruth to a plush chair, stirred up the fire, left the room. Ruth lifted her little boy onto her lap, which was not easy, because she didn’t have much of a lap these days. She looked at the old man. She could hardly believe he was alive. He looked dead. His eyes were shut. His hands were blue.

“Granddaughter!” Mr. Ellis said. His eyes snapped open, grotesquely magnified behind enormous, insectoid glasses.

Ruth’s son, who was not a coward, flinched. Ruth took a lollipop from her bag, unwrapped it, and put it in David’s mouth. Sugar pacifier. She wondered why she’d brought her son to see this specter. That may have been a mistake, but she was used to taking David with her everywhere. He was such a good kid, so uncomplaining. She should have thought this out better. Too late now.

“You were supposed to come to dinner on Thursday, Ruth,” said the old man.

“Thursday?”

“A Thursday in July of 1976.” He cracked a sly grin.

“I was busy,” Ruth said, and smiled winningly, or so she hoped.

“You’ve cut your hair, girl.”

“I have.”

“You’ve put on weight.” His head bobbed faintly all the time.

“Well, I have a pretty good excuse. I’m expecting another child.”

“I’ve not yet met your first.”

“This is David, Mr. Ellis. This is David Thomas Wishnell.”

“Nice to meet you, young man.” Mr. Ellis stretched out a trembling arm toward Ruth’s boy, offering to shake hands. David scrunched against his mother in terror. The lollipop fell out of his shocked mouth. Ruth picked it up and popped it back in. Mr. Ellis’s arm retreated.

“I want to talk to you about buying some land,” Ruth said. What she really wanted was to get this meeting behind her as quickly as possible. “My husband and I would like to build a house here on Ellis Hill, right near here. I have a reasonable sum to offer…”

Ruth trailed off because she was alarmed. Mr. Ellis was suddenly coughing with a strangling sound. He was choking, and his face was turning purple. She didn’t know what to do. Should she get Cal Cooley? She had a quick and calculating thought: she didn’t want Lanford Ellis to die before the land deal was settled.

“Mr. Ellis?” she said, and started to get up.

The trembling arm stretched out again, waving her away. “Sit down,” he said. He took a deep breath, and the coughing started again. No, Ruth realized, he wasn’t coughing. He was laughing. How perfectly horrible.

He stopped, at last, and wiped his eyes. He shook his old turtle head. He said, “You certainly aren’t afraid of me any longer, Ruth.”

“I never was afraid.”

“Nonsense. You were petrified.” A small, white spit-dot flew from his lips and landed on one of his stamp albums. “But no longer. And good for you. I must say, Ruth, I am pleased with you. I am proud of all you’ve accomplished here on Fort Niles. I have been watching your progress with great interest.”

He pronounced the last word in three exquisite syllables.

“Um, thank you,” Ruth said. This was a strange turn. “I know it was never your intent that I stay here on Fort Niles…”

“Oh, it was precisely my intent.”

Ruth looked at him without blinking.

“It was always my hope that you would stay here and organize these islands. Bring some sense to them. As you have done, Ruth. You look surprised.”

She was. Then again, she was not. She thought back.

Her mind slowed, picking around carefully for an explanation, looking closely at the details of her life. She reviewed some ancient conversations, some ancient meetings with Mr. Ellis. What exactly had he expected of her? What were his plans for her when her schooling was over? He had never said.

“I always understood that you wanted me to get off this island and go to college.” Ruth’s voice sounded calm in the big room. And she was calm. She was vitally involved in the conversation now.

“I said no such thing, Ruth. Did I ever talk to you about college? Did I ever say I wanted you to live elsewhere?”

Indeed he had not, she realized. Vera had said it; her mother had said it; Cal Cooley had said it. Even Pastor Wishnell had said it. But not Mr. Ellis. How very interesting.

“I’d like to know something,” Ruth asked, “since we are being so candid. Why did you make me go to school in Delaware?”

“It was an excellent school, and I expected you to hate it.”

She waited, but he did not elaborate.

“Well,” she said, “that explains everything. Thanks.”

He let out a rattling sigh. “Taking into account both your intelligence and your obstinacy, I imagined the school would serve two purposes. It would educate you and would drive you back to Fort Niles. I should not have to spell this out for you, Ruth.”

Ruth nodded. That did explain everything.

“Are you angry, Ruth?”

She shrugged. Oddly, she was not. Big deal, she thought. So he’d been manipulating her whole life. He’d manipulated the life of everyone he had sway over. It was no surprise, really; in fact, it was edifying. And in the end-what of it? Ruth came to this conclusion rapidly and with no fuss. She liked knowing at last what had been going on all these years. There are moments in a person’s life when the big understanding arrives in a snap, and this was such a moment for Ruth Thomas-Wishnell.

Mr. Ellis spoke again. “You could not possibly have married better, Ruth.”

“My, my, my,” she said. On came the surprises! “Well, how do you like that?”

“A Wishnell and a Thomas? Oh, I like it very much. You have founded a dynasty, young lady.”

“Have I, now?”

“You have. And it would have given my father supreme satisfaction to see what you’ve accomplished here in the last few years with the cooperative, Ruth. No other local could have pulled it off.”

“No other local ever had the capital, Mr. Ellis.”

“Well, you were clever enough to acquire that capital. And you’ve spent it wisely. My father would have been proud and delighted at the success of your business. He was always concerned for the future of these islands. He loved them. As do I. As does the entire Ellis family. And after all my family has invested into these islands, I would not want to see Fort Niles and Courne Haven sink for lack of a worthy leader.”

“I’ll tell you something, Mr. Ellis,” Ruth said, and for some reason she could not help smiling. “It was never my intent to make your family proud. Believe me. I have never been interested in serving the Ellis family.”

“Regardless.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Ruth felt strange and light-and thoroughly comprehending. “Regardless.”

“But you’ve come to speak of business.”

“So I have.”

“You have some money.”

“So I do.”

“And you want me to sell you my land.”

Ruth hesitated.

“No-o,” she said, and she drew the word out. “No, not exactly. I don’t want you to sell me your land, Mr. Ellis. I want you to give it to me.”

Now it was Mr. Ellis who stopped blinking. Ruth tilted her head and returned his gaze.

“Yes?” she said. “Do you understand?”

He did not answer. She gave him time to think about what she’d said, and then explained it, with careful patience. “Your family owes a great debt to my family. It is important and proper that your family make some restitution to my family for the lives of my mother and my grandmother. And for my life, too. Surely you understand?”

Ruth was pleased with that word-restitution. It was exactly the right word.

Mr. Ellis thought this over for some time and then said, “You aren’t threatening me with legal action, are you, Miss Thomas?”

“Mrs. Thomas-Wishnell,” Ruth corrected. “And don’t be absurd. I’m not threatening anybody.”

“I rather thought not.”

“I’m only explaining that you have an opportunity here, Mr. Ellis, to right some of the wrongs that your family inflicted on my family over the years.”

Mr. Ellis did not reply.

“If you ever felt like cleaning up your conscience a bit, this might be your big chance.”

Mr. Ellis still did not reply.

“I shouldn’t have to spell this out for you, Mr. Ellis.”

“No,” he said. He sighed again, took off his glasses, and folded them. “You should not have to.”

“You understand then?”

He nodded once and turned his head to regard the fire.

Ruth said, “Good.”

They sat in silence. David was asleep by now, and his body made a hot, damp imprint against Ruth’s body. He was heavy. And yet Ruth was comfortable. She thought this brief and forthright exchange with Mr. Ellis was both important and proper. And true. It had gone well. Restitution. Yes. And it was about time. She felt quite at ease.

Ruth watched Mr. Ellis as he watched the fire. She was not angry or sad. Nor did he appear to be so. She felt no resentment toward him. It was a nice fire, she thought. It was unusual, but not unpleasant, to have such a big, Christmasy fire blazing away in the middle of June. With the draperies drawn over the windows, with the smell of woodsmoke in the room, there was no way to know that the day was bright. It was a beautiful fireplace, the pride of the room. It was made of heavy, dark wood-mahogany, perhaps-decorated with nymphs and grapes and dolphins. It was capped by a marble mantelpiece of greenish hue. Ruth admired the workmanship of the fireplace for some time.

“I’ll take the house, too,” she said, at last.

“Of course,” said Mr. Ellis. His hands were clasped on the card table in front of him. His hands were spotty and papery, but now they did not tremble.

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“You’re with me?”

“Yes.”

“And you do understand what all this means, Mr. Ellis? It means you’ll have to leave Fort Niles.” Ruth did not say this in an unkind manner. She was simply correct. “You and Cal should both return to Concord now. Don’t you think?”

He nodded. He was still looking at the fire. He said, “When the weather is good enough to set sail in the Stonecutter…”

“Oh, there’s no hurry. You don’t have to leave here today. But I don’t want you dying in this house, do you understand? And I do not want you dying on this island. That would not be appropriate, and it would unsettle everyone too much. I don’t want to have to deal with that. So you do have to leave. And there’s no immediate hurry. But sometime over the next few weeks, we’ll pack you up and move you out of here. I don’t think it’ll be too hard.”

“Mr. Cooley can take care of all that.”

“Of course,” Ruth said. She smiled. “That’ll be a perfect job for Cal.”

They sat for another long time in silence. The fire crackled and shimmered. Mr. Ellis unfolded his eyeglasses and returned them to his face. He turned his gaze upon Ruth.

“Your little boy is sleepy,” he said.

“Actually, I think he’s sleeping. I should get him home to his father. He likes to see his father in the afternoons. Waits for him, you know, to come home from fishing.”

“He’s a handsome boy.”

“We think so. We love him.”

“Naturally you do. He is your son.”

Ruth sat up straighter. Then she said, “I should get back to the harbor now, Mr. Ellis.”

“You won’t have a cup of tea?”

“No. But we are in agreement, yes?”

“I am enormously proud of you, Ruth.”

“Well.” she smiled broadly and made an ironic little flourish with her left hand. “It’s all part of the service, Mr. Ellis.”

With some effort, Ruth got herself up out of the deep chair, still holding David. Her son made a small noise of protest, and she shifted his weight, trying to hold him in a way that would be comfortable for them both. At this point in her pregnancy, she shouldn’t have been carrying him around, but she enjoyed it. She liked holding David, and knew she only had a few more years of it, before he got too big and too independent to permit it. Ruth smoothed back her boy’s fair hair and picked up her canvas bag, which was filled with snacks for David and co-op files for herself. Ruth started toward the door and then changed her mind.

She turned around to confirm a suspicion. She looked over at Mr. Ellis, and, yes, just as she had expected, he was grinning and grinning. He made no attempt to hide his grin from her. Indeed, he let it grow wider. As she saw this, Ruth felt the oddest, the most unaccountable fondness for the man. So she did not walk out. Not just yet. Instead, she walked to Mr. Ellis’s chair and-leaning awkwardly around the weight of her son and her pregnancy-bent down and kissed the old dragon right on the forehead.