The Dragon in the Cliff (3 page)

Being the Lord's day, we were not going to hunt for curiosities. We just wanted to see if there were any new slides. In our search for a slide, we wandered far to the other side of Black Ven and did not hear the bells for afternoon services. We did not realize how late it had become until we met Mr. Clerkenwell coming home from chapel. He saw us but, turning away, did not acknowledge our greeting.

“Mama will be angry,” Joseph said.

Papa and I knew that he was right, and we also knew that there was nothing we could say to excuse ourselves. Missing chapel was an unpardonable sin for which we were certain to be punished. The first punishment came from Mama. We were not greeted when we arrived, nor did Mama ask us what we had seen. We washed up in silence. No one but Ann and John spoke, and even they soon grew silent.

Joseph and I read our Bible lesson aloud under Mama's disapproving gaze. The lesson was one I love, the first chapter of the Book of Genesis telling how in the beginning the earth was without form and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God separated the light from the darkness and the light became day and the darkness night. On the second day God created heaven; on the third earth and the seas and all the plants of the earth; on the fourth day the sun to rule the day and the moon and stars to rule the night. On the fifth day God created the great sea monsters and all the creatures of the sea and the winged birds; and on the sixth day he created man.

I had heard this passage any number of times, but listening to Joseph read this time, my mind wandered to the curiosities. If the curiosities were once living creatures, as Papa said they were, then they must have been created by God. Most of the curiosities we found were like creatures that live in the sea. Were they the creatures that God made on the fifth day? How did they turn to stone? And how did they get from the sea into the cliffs? I wanted to ask someone these questions, but I knew not to ask Mama. She would have been shocked by such thoughts and would have given me a slap if I had dared to utter a word about them.

Instead it was she who was asking me questions. “What did God do on the seventh day?”

I stood and recited: “God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on that day God rested from the work of creation.”

“And what are we, his children, to do on the Sabbath day?” Mama asked Joseph pointedly.

“On the seventh day we are to rest from our labors and worship God and his creations,” Joseph mumbled.

Mama turned to me. “Why?”

“Because it is God's commandment. And those who disobey his commandments are punished,” I replied.

She nodded, satisfied that we had learned our lesson. She closed the Bible, but she did not relent in her punishment. We ate our bread in silence, and then went to bed without as much as a good night.

The second punishment came the next day. Knowing full well that I had yet to face Mrs. Harris's wrath, I took my time getting to school, going there in a roundabout fashion to avoid meeting the other children from our quarter of town, and slipped into my seat between Emma Cruikshanks and Lizzie Adams only seconds before we were called to order.

“Where were you yesterday afternoon?” Emma wanted to know. “You're going to catch it from her.” Emma was always saying things like that with a certain amount of delight. She, of course, never did anything wrong herself.

When I told her that we were walking on the beach and didn't hear the church bells ring, her round blue eyes widened until they positively bulged. She shook her head and said, “Missing chapel and walking on the beach on the Sabbath! Mary, you'll get at least seven for that. She gave Ann Beer six for less.”

Seeing my terror, Lizzie Adams tried to soothe me. “If you explain, maybe she won't. You did mean to come to chapel, you just didn't come in time,” she whispered as Mrs. Harris entered. We all scrambled to our feet and stood stiffly at attention as she marched to the table that served as her desk. “Good morning, girls,” she said in her singsong voice.

“Good morning, Mrs. Harris,” we chorused.

“'Tis payday,” Mrs. Harris announced, opening the roll book on the table before her. She smoothed the pages with her fat white hand. “Adams,” she called.

The penny stuck to my palm as I watched Lizzie Adams stride to the front of the room to pay for school. I prayed over and over to myself—Dear Lord, please let her get it over with quickly and I promise that I will never miss chapel again—knowing that my prayer would not be answered and that it did not deserve to be.

Susanne Allen's name was called. She hurried to the front of the room, bent over and whispered something in Mrs. Harris's ear, and scurried back to her seat.

“She doesn't have a penny,” Emma whispered. “Mrs. Clerkenwell says the Aliens are to be turned out of their lodgings because they can't pay the landlord. They have applied to the parish for aid.” Though normally I would have looked upon Susanne's position with a mixture of pity, fear, and horror, I was too afraid myself right then to give Susanne much thought.

“Anning,” Mrs. Harris called.

I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I made my way to the front of the room. Avoiding meeting Mrs. Harris's eyes, I dropped my penny on her table and turned to go back to my place on the bench.

“I haven't finished with you, Mary,” Mrs. Harris stopped me. “Please tell us why you did not attend chapel yesterday afternoon.”

For a second I considered lying, telling her that I was not feeling well, but I knew that I would be quickly found out if I did, and then I would be in even more trouble. “I was out walking on the beach with my brother and father—” I was cut off by a titter of laughter.

Mrs. Harris's eyes imperiously swept around the classroom, silencing everyone. “Your father will have to answer his own conscience and will suffer God's judgment for his sin. But you followed him and you will have to answer for that, Mary.”

“We meant to come, but we didn't hear the bells,” I tried to explain.

“You didn't hear the bells,” Mrs. Harris repeated, her voice growing louder with each word, her sagging cheeks quivering.

“No, Mrs. Harris,” I answered.

Mrs. Harris pulled herself to her feet and leaned over the table toward me. “You went out on the beach on Sunday to look for curiosities.”

“We didn't look for curiosities. We were taking a walk.”

“You are telling a falsehood. You have broken the Lord's own commandment: On the seventh day you shall rest.”

I tried to explain, but Mrs. Harris cut me off with an order to Emma to fetch the cane. Emma was, as usual, only too happy to be of use. I looked around the room. My eyes met Caroline Gleed's. She stared back at me coldly. Jane Lovett smiled. Lizzie's eyes were cast down.

“Hold your hands out and look at me,” Mrs. Harris ordered. “Now repeat: I have offended the Lord by laboring on Sunday and shall be chastised,” she said, bringing the stick down on my knuckles.

I drew back in pain.

“Don't move!” Mrs. Harris ordered. “Now again.”

“I have offended the Lord by laboring on Sunday and shall be chastised,” I repeated as the stick came down on the back of my hands again, again, again, again, and again, ten times in all.

“Any more absences from chapel and you will no longer be welcome here,” Mrs. Harris said, dismissing me. Dazed with pain, I continued to stand there, holding my bleeding hands out in front of me. Lizzie whispered loudly, “Mary, put cold water on your hands.” I turned and went to the cloakroom where there was a pail of water. I poured a little on my handkerchief and used it to wipe the blood off my hands. They stung as I touched them, and the pain brought tears to my eyes. I wrapped the handkerchief around one hand and then put both my hands under my arms and went back to my seat. Everyone except Lizzie turned their eyes away and drew their legs in to avoid me as I passed. She passed her handkerchief to me without a word, and I wrapped it around my other hand.

No doubt Mama noticed the swollen red welts and cuts on my hands at dinner that noon. Perhaps she thought it right that Mrs. Harris punished me for missing chapel. She didn't say a word about it and neither did I. The only one who mentioned it was Joseph. “I see that you got it, too,” he said as we were walking back to school after dinner.

“Did you?” I asked.

He nodded and pointed to his backside. “Promise not to tell Papa. It'll upset him that we were punished because of him.” I promised not to tell, although I would not have minded at all if Papa became angry and took us out of school.

That afternoon when Mrs. Harris was listening to the beginning readers, and I was sitting off to one side doing my sums on a slate, Jane Lovett came up to me. She bent over, bringing her face close to mine, and stared into my eyes without saying a word. I flinched. She moved closer so that our noses almost touched, and I could see the golden flecks in the blue-green irises of her cold, angry eyes and the white tips of her dark eyelashes. I looked away, but she grabbed my chin and turned my face back to hers and held me there in a viselike grip. My throat tightened. I could not breathe, but I did not know what to do. Then as suddenly as she had come, she turned and walked off. She came up to me the next morning as I was writing my spelling words on my slate. This time she held her stare for what seemed like forever. When I tried to turn away, she gripped my arm tightly and turned so I was still facing her. Tears came to my eyes. Her eyes glinted with satisfaction when she saw this. She let go and walked off.

For some days after this Jane kept springing out, catching me unaware at my lessons or my knitting, staring into my face until I flinched. Other times she stole up behind me and imitated my every move. I did not know she was there until I saw the other girls laughing. I whirled around to catch her, but she was too fast and I was afraid to chase her.

I became nervous and self-conscious trying to be on my guard against Jane. I did not sleep for several nights thinking about what I should do to stop her. I did not talk to Lizzie about it. She saw how Jane was tormenting me, but offered no help. When I became desperate, I considered telling Joseph about it, but I dismissed the idea. It was too embarrassing to talk about to anyone, even my own brother. Besides, I knew that he would tell me to hit Jane, and Jane was bigger than me.

Then one day she came up to me as I was leaving school. She poked her face into mine and said, so that everyone could hear, “You know what you are, Mary Anning? The Stone Girl. A curious curiosity.” Without stopping to think, I reached up and slapped her cheek hard. Jane brought her hand to her face, which was reddening from my blow, and stepped back. All the other girls and boys who were pouring out of school onto Coombe Street stopped to watch. William Trowbridge called to Jane, “Hit the Stone Girl.” But before she could, I walked away, using all of my self-control to keep from running. Someone else yelled “Stone Girl,” after me, but I did not turn around to see who it was.

Lizzie caught up with me as I turned onto Bridge Street, not far from home. “I'm glad you finally did something about Jane,” she said, falling into step with me. “She won't bother you again, I can tell you that. You really surprised her. But you know, Mary, if you weren't so proud, Jane would never have gone after you. You act as if you are better, and it makes the other girls angry.”

“What should I do,” I demanded, “cry for them when I was punished? Grovel for their pity? I tried to explain to Mrs. Harris what happened, but she wouldn't believe me. They don't care about me. They think I'm strange because of the curiosities. They were glad to see me punished.”

“No, they were not glad, Mary. They would have listened to you, and they would have taken your side if you hadn't been so proud and unyielding and had gone to them and told them what happened.”

“No, they wouldn't. They don't care. They are glad I was beaten, because they hate me,” I said, breaking into tears. I ran into the house.

I was still afraid that Jane would continue to torment me in the same way, or worse, when I returned to school the next day, but she left me alone. She did not stare at me or imitate me again. Neither did any of the other girls. They might not have approved of me; they might have thought I was proud and unyielding, but they realized that I would not be bullied any longer.

THE TURNING POINT

It was not what happened at school, however, that led to my present unhappy state, but the misfortunes of my family.

Papa had always talked of having a shop in which chairs, settees, and couches could be made from start to finish. To turn this dream into reality, he apprenticed Joseph to old Mr. Hale, the upholsterer on Coombe Street. As an apprentice, Joseph was (and still is) little better than Mr. Hale's servant. He goes to the pump for water, to the coal monger's for coal, sweeps the shop and the house as well, runs to the ironmonger's for nails, to the cloth merchant's for cloth and braid, picks up the furniture to be upholstered, and delivers it to its owners when the job is done. But all the while he is learning the different parts of the upholstery trade. Entire days pass by without our seeing him.

He stopped going curiosity hunting with us. When he asked permission to go along, Mr. Hale told him, “If your father had wanted you to be a curio man, he'd have kept you home. He sent you here to learn the upholstery trade and that's what you're doing.” Joseph did not ask again. Still, from time to time, he steals down to the beach to see what he can find.

It was not long after Joseph went to live at Mr. Hale's that the spells of coughing and night sweats that Papa had been suffering from for years became more frequent and serious. He often had to stop what he was doing to rest for a while. Still, he would not call a doctor. “Quacks,” he called them. “Doctors are only good to take your blood and your money, neither of which I can afford to part with,” he would say, when Mama talked of calling in Dr. Carpenter. He believed that the best thing for a cough was the fresh sea air. But the fresh sea air did not cure Papa's cough. Neither did drinking sea water, as the fashionable visitors to town do. Finally, when Papa collapsed on the beach and had to be helped home by the cockle man, Mama overrode his objections and called in the doctor.