The Boy From Ballyclerahan

Chapter 20: The Dusk and the Dawn

St. John's, Newfoundland, October 2nd, 1812

Stiffened with cold, Ed could almost hear the creaks as he opened and closed his fists. Gloves would've helped, but the frigid weather than besieged him now couldn't have been predicted given the fair conditions he started with earlier in the day. But this was Newfoundland, and anything was possible.

The saying "all four seasons in one day" came to mind. It was how they used to describe the weather back in Ireland during Fhómhair. But the reds, oranges, and golds that decorated the trees back home at that time were nowhere to be found here. Nor were the pleasant Fall temperatures he remembered from County Clare. Nonetheless, the evergreen conifers that covered the hills surrounding his adopted town did provide some comfort, knowing that Irish trees would soon drop their multicoloured leaves in a few short weeks, whilst the trees in Newfoundland would remain green all year round. Whether by a subtle change in climate or through wanton perception, he felt a little warmer with that thought.

The last visit took the good out of him, so much so that he considered shutting down his canvassing for the day. The chilly reception he received from the Newman brothers made him question the sanity of their plan. But he believed in the good doctor, his conviction infectious. Their common goal of attaining some basic rights and freedoms in line with the Parliamentary principles to which they aspired would neither come easily nor quickly. Carson felt the best way to go forward was to enlist the help of the merchants of the garrison town, influential but individual, still having to beg at Governor Duckworth's heel to further their respective enterprises. He envisioned setting up a 'Mercantile Society' whereby merchants would band together in solidarity, their collective influence exponentially larger than the status quo. The merchants could care less about attaining a new elected government, but Carson was convinced that the prospect of an increase in their power and influence would move them. And, more importantly, the chance to advance the merchants' common cause of lining their already overstuffed coffers. This could work, he thought. Slow and steady, Ed encouraged himself.

Entering the small shop just off the Lower Path, a chord of chimes rang from a group of small bells hung from its front door, announcing his arrival. His hands thanked him as they commenced their thaw, the heat emanating from a corner woodstove most welcome on this frigid day. Ed noted a wall of wooden shelves, stocked with bags of tea, sugar, hard tack, and bottled rabbit on the one, undergarments, woollen shirts and trousers on the next, and shoes lined up on the floor beneath them all. Behind the merchant desk hung spools of fishing twine, cod lures, jiggers, and other tools for handlining.

Most out of place in the corner of the shop, he spied a sophisticated apparatus adorned with a large magnifying glass, held suspended over its workspace by an articulated metal arm. A small kit lay open beneath its gaze, with several miniscule tools strewn beside it. Precision tools for precision work, he noted to himself. Suspended above the tools, five timepieces of varying quality and ornament hung from gold and silver chains, draped over finishing nails hammered into the desk upright, waiting patiently for their repair. The true passion of its owner, Ed thought.

"Well, hello there," said a woman, her long blue dress flowing as she descended a narrow stairwell at the back of the room. "Had a look around, have you? Now, what will it be?" she asked pleasantly. Her English accent was refined, with hints betraying a southern origin. Despite the polite welcome, she had a look of confused interest, a slight twist at her left eyebrow signalling that things weren't quite right. A look Ed had seen many times before. The tell of surprised revulsion when first meeting him, followed by a quick reversion to their cheery smile. He shook it off again today as he had every other time.

"Quite the shop you have here. Rather eclectic," Ed remarked, running his index finger over one of the lower shelves. The women responded silently with a puzzled look. "The clocks," he answered, anticipating her question. "It's not common to see beautiful timepieces and hard tack bread sold together. But I reckon you might be on to something," he smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye.