The Cupola
“Hello there maties! Are you visiting Dryvale for your
holidays? Me? I’m Alexander Fowler, a son of the sea. I’ve served on the mighty
naval vessels, Adamant and Hermes as well as other ships of the line. You’re
two sweet little girls in your pretty dresses. Is that your Ma and Pa? And why
have you come down to the docks to visit an old seadog like me? You want me to
tell you a story. A ghost story? I hope your parents are alright about that.
They are? OK, I’ll tell you my favourite spooky story. It’s called the Cupola
and I am assured that it is true. Well… are you sitting comfortably? That’s
what they say isn’t it? Well I’ll begin.
The original building had not sported a cupola; it was only
added by old Captain Henry Burrows for his wife, soon to become widow, as an
aid to allow her to look out to sea to witness his leaving and arriving to the port of Dryvale
The original building had been a stone brick affair with
dark red tiled roofs and gleaming glass windows. It had been built in the early
century by a stonemason who had made up the building with stones from old
houses that had fallen into ruin. It is reported that he even obtained some old
gravestones from a derelict kirk to strengthen the house’s walls, but this was
never confirmed.
The new house had risen phoenix like using the cannibalised
fabric from other dwelling houses and, it is rumoured, memorials to the dead.
The captain had purchased the property off the mason after
his business had fallen on bad times. It was sold for a much lower price than
its value but the mason needed money and accepted the lower figure in
desperation.
The cupola was a pretty affair. A golden dome sitting
astride the house’s main roof.
The builders had fitted a large picture window into the
seaward side of the structure to allow the Captain’s wife an uncluttered view
of the rolling sea. Most days it moved like a lazy cat, but when the wind rose
the pussy cat awoke and became a tiger. Snarling and spraying spume into the
air. It could crush vessels and take them to a watery grave in a blink of an
eye.
The interior of the cupola could be reached by a stair
running up the inside of the roof. The walls were painted a light blue and
furniture consisted of an armchair, a table and a large brass telescope. The
sun warmed the dome in the morning and the Captain’s wife would take her
breakfast coffee up there looking out towards the horizon where the seabirds
dived and fed.
It was the month of the bad storms when Captain Burrows
accepted a cargo of timber to be delivered to one of the Fresian
Islands off Germany . It was a lucrative job as
the timber was mahogany and very valuable. It was destined for a bureaucrat’s
summer house and its delivery was regarded as urgent.
The Captain’s wife wept as her husband explained the
necessity for his voyage. She pleaded that he pass it to one of the other ship
owners to deliver. She had dreamt of his ship sinking and watching as the cold
sea swallowed him up.
The Captain looked into her eyes and after kissing her
tenderly promised her that he would return.
The great vessel Atlas Carrier pulled away from Dryvale with
her cargo of timber. The Captain’s wife sat in her cupola and watched as the
mighty vessel pulled away and began steaming towards the horizon. She watched
her husband through the telescope busy on the bridge until the ship vanished on
her way to the Fresians.
That night the wind howled like a banshee and plucked at the
cupola where the Captain’s wife had remained, tucked into the armchair with a
blanket over her. She had vowed to stay at her post till the Atlas Carrier
reappeared and docked at Dryvale.
She could see the phosphorescent surf pounding the shore and
hear the susurrus of the water as it moved feverishly about. Pounding, rolling
and kneading, the sea showed all that it was master.
Sadly the Atlas Carrier foundered between Memmert and Juist Islands
The Captain’s wife never recovered from the tragedy and
continued to visit the cupola, remaining there all day gazing out to sea.
Awaiting the return of her husband.
Kind townsfolk would deliver food to her front door where
they left it. By this method the old woman was kept alive and some of the
ladies from the Guild would call on her to keep her and her clothing clean, but
they came away from the house concerned for her welfare as all she did during
their visit was gaze to seaward with wide expectant eyes.
There was a man in town called Hubert Blash and he coveted
the Captain’s house. He wanted it for himself and would stoop to any depths to
obtain it. He began to woo the Captain’s wife, arriving at various times of the
day with flowers or sweets for her. He would join her in the cupola and whisper
kind things in her ears. But it was all a ploy to win the property for himself.
One day after continued bantering the Captain’s wife
accepted Hubert’s proposal of marriage. She was lonely and her lover was so
kind and considerate that she felt that the captain would understand. Although
she accepted Hubert Blash she never gave up looking out to sea, right up until
her wedding day. On that day she gave a little sigh, shed a tear and swore she
that would make a loving faithful wife for her Hubert.
The sun shone down on the church in Dryvale on Mr and Mrs.
Blash’s wedding day. The birds sang and the bells rang. The bride and groom
were so much in love that they never parted for the whole day. The wedding guests
ate and drank and everyone was so happy. Toasts were offered. Speeches made all
about luck for the happy couple. Mrs Blash revelled in the dancing, the
speechifying and her husband’s attention.
As the evening came, the guests began to make their farewells
and promises to stay in touch. Soon the couple were on their own and as the
caterers gathered up the remaining food and drink, Hubert sat down in a chair
by the fire. He had an evil grin on his face when he thought of how easily his
plan had worked.
The abuse started the next morning when Mrs Blash failed to
serve Mr Blash’s coffee hot enough to him. With a shriek he threw the cup of
coffee at the wall where it smashed into a thousand pieces. Next he jumped to
his feet and hit his wife in the face throwing her to the floor where she lay
weeping.
She begged his forgiveness for the mistake and promised to
try harder at being a good wife to him. But further assaults followed. Each
petty mistake was rewarded with a cuff, a slap or a kick. Mrs Blash was reduced
to a shivering shadow of her former self and began to hide in the cupola and
weep.
Two weeks later Mr Blash decided to have a dinner party at
his house. He invited all the dignitaries from Dryvale and spent a lot of money
on sprucing the house up, hiring the best caterers and obtaining copious
amounts of alcohol.
Mr Blash had reduced the physical abuse to his wife,
resorting to threatening gestures, in an effort to keep his wife bruise and cut
free (at least where they would be visible) to allow him to parade his
beautiful new wife before the town.
He bought a gorgeous dress and exquisite shoes for her to
look the part of a successful business man’s wife. He arranged for a dance
instructor to guarantee their knowledge of each dance was flawless and he hired
waiters and waitresses to serve his guests’ every whim.
Then the great night arrived. Carriages arrived at the
Blash’s front door and well dressed gentlemen and ladies got down and entered
the house. Soon the building was resounding to dance music. All the lights
blazed out and for some it resembled a Christmas tree.
Food was eaten and alcohol was consumed. The party appeared
to be an amazing success. Laughter and singing echoed from the rafters.
Mr and Mrs Blash circulated amongst their guests making
comments here or giving praise there. Everyone was enjoying themselves.
As the evening progressed several of the arriving guests
commented on a bank of fog that was slowly creeping towards the shore. Mr Blash
laughed at their misgivings and ordered more logs to be piled on the already
heaped fireplace. None of his guests
would feel the cold that night.
Later in the evening a young gentleman asked Mrs Blash if
she would dance with him. She agreed and they stepped off together into the
swirling, dancing couples.
Everyone said what a lovely pair they made and how well they
danced together.
Mr Blash, who had consumed several drinks of alcohol, was
incensed when he saw his wife dancing with the young man. How dare she show him
up? After all he had done for her!
Then it was all over and the carriages returned to take the
ladies and gentlemen home.
It was very foggy when the guests left and a foghorn wailed
dismally in the distance. The sound of the horses’ hooves was gradually lost in
the swirling fog.
Mrs Blash shook her head wearily as she shut the main door.
She hoped in her heart that everything had pleased her husband; she was truly
frightened by him at times.
Mr Blash was standing at the foot of the stairs holding a
long leather belt. He swung it to and fro as he screamed that she had disgraced
him in front of all the very important people. What had she been thinking of,
he snarled, of dancing with that youth? Was he not good enough for her? As he
shouted he hit her with the strap, over and over until her dress hung in
shreds. Her lovely party dress reduced to ribbons and rags!
Turning Mrs Blash pushed her husband violently so he fell
over onto the floor. In that split second she ran up the stairs. Mr Blash
quickly recovered and followed his wife up the stairs shrieking like a witch.
He knew where she was going and this enraged him further.
Unbeknown to everyone, as the bank of fog had come in, it
had brought with it a rusty hulk, covered in seaweed and barnacles. The Atlas
Carrier had returned.
Slamming the door of the cupola shut, Mrs Blash bolted it.
She was crying from the pain of the wounds and the blood was running down her
body. She knelt by the window and prayed for the Captain to return and rescue
her just as Mr Blash began pounding on the door demanding to be let in.
“Now, little girls, the last bit of this story was told to
me by some of the servants who had been cleaning up after the party. They said
that they heard the master bellowing like a bull and the mistress screaming and
wailing. Then the main door suddenly crashed open and the fog began to pour
into the house and fill the hall. Suddenly all was silent and the servants
rushed upstairs to the cupola to find out what had happened. The dead body of
Mr Blash lay on the floor of the cupola. As well as blood he was covered with
sand and seaweed! Of his wife there was no sign!”
“I like to think that the Captain returned in his ship to
retrieve his wife from the clutches of that evil man Blash”
“Mrs Blash has never been discovered to this day, but on the
morning after the fog cleared someone had inscribed a large heart on the sand
with ‘Together Forever’ written underneath.”
“Why thank you sir, for the money. I hope you daughters
enjoyed it. The house? What happened to the house? It still stands sir, on the
hill, empty for no one will live in it!”
“Sleep tight girls and don’t forget about Alexander Fowler
and his spooky tales!”
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