She was a runner. A little gallivanter. Set her down and off she’d go . . . the happiest little girl in the world. Often I would give chase and, trailing her by a few feet, I’d say, “Ashley, Ashley . . . now you’d better stop.” Of course, stopping . . . at that moment . . . was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. This little game would go on for fifteen or twenty minutes and then I’d “scoop” her up . . . and she’d let out a squeal. Cradling her in my arms I would cover her face with kisses. She would then reach out and pat the sides of my face with her small pudgy hands. Her mother would always be nearby and the three of us would then move on to whatever activity was next on the list.
It was when little Ashley turned three that we decided it was time for us to leave Martindale Island. Rachel and I were in perfect agreement on the matter. Ashley’s childhood, we knew, would be more enriched if she had other children to play with and, more importantly, we could not . . . simply could not . . . deprive her of marriage and the joy of having children of her own. And we felt the time to act was now.
It was a prayer. And we knew it was a prayer. We hadn’t knelt nor clasped our hands together nor even bowed our heads, but we had tried . . . everyday . . . to believe in and trust in God, and this was a heartfelt wish, a wish not for our own benefit, but for the sake of our daughter. And so it was, without any words having been spoken, a prayer.
So we began to prepare for our departure.
First off, we decided that, whatever we brought with us, it had to be limited to what could be carried in one trunk. We could not, under any circumstances, be a burden to the ship or its crew. These keepsakes would eventually include the game boards, my pocket watch collection, Rachel’s first conch shell, and . . . Dolly.
We would need proper clothing. For me this was not a problem as there was a veritable haberdashery of things for me to choose from, but for the girls it was a different matter and I would need to make suitable garments for the both of them.
I patterned Rachel’s dress after the formal attire ladies wore in public when I lived in Boston. To imitate the effect of crinoline I fashioned five layers of sail material into a sort of petticoat, and, for the dress itself, I found five shirts of the same color . . . a deep blue . . . and unstitched, cut, and sewed them into a gown.
When Rachel tried it on, it created something a stir inside that little cottage of ours. We, of course, had always worn the simplest of clothes and this formal wear was quite a glamorous departure from what we were accustomed to seeing.
Rachel decided to put on a little fashion show for Ashley and me. She curtsied, twirled, and then took slow gliding steps across the room. When she reached the backdoor, Rachel spun around and pretended to stumble.
She then limped her way back across the room. I smiled and had a good laugh . . . inwardly.
The making of Ashley’s dress required much less material and time, but, after having seen her mother so stylishly attired, she was very eager to have the same thing for herself, and she . . . harassed me until it was finished.
Next we made two extra long hand-held flagpoles to which we attached extra large white flags. With a giant flag stored on either side of the island we’d be ready to draw the attention of the ship’s crew when the time came to do so.
We had to test-fire the cannons and, for the cannon on look-out point number two, this was not a problem, but for the cannon on look-out point number one it caused us some concern as little Ashley had never heard a noise that loud before. So we settled on the following course of action: I stood next to the loaded cannon holding a loaded pistol. Rachel and Ashley stood about a hundred feet away. Ashley raised her right arm into the air and held it there, and I aimed the pistol skyward. After a moment or two . . . when she decided she wanted to give the command . . . Ashley swung her arm down sharply. And I fired the pistol. Mother then leaned down to daughter and said, “It will be louder dear.” Then, following the same procedure, we tested the cannon . . . with it causing a little jump in the girl, but not too much fright.
Next we dug up the money. We separated it into two piles: Money to be carried with us and money to be hidden in the trunk. I wanted to carry enough pieces of eight and gold doubloons . . . currency I was certain would be accepted . . . to cover the expenses we would incur, and I also wanted to keep out all of the paper money . . . currency that often becomes outdated or displaced . . . with the intention of redeeming it the first chance we got.
The rest of the money . . . all coins . . . we spread out on top of some sail cloth we had placed at the bottom of the trunk. We then laid more sail cloth on top of the coins. I had cut a board to the exact shape of the inside of the trunk, and we placed this “false bottom” on top of the whole lot . . . fastening it down with screws.
Finally we wrote a “To Whom It May Concern” letter that explained the occasion of our being on the island and also the ins and outs of surviving on the island, and we nailed this communication to a wall inside the cottage.
We were ready.