Heritage Crossing, Chapter Twelve Snippet

Author’s Notation: After dinner, Prudy started asking questions about Grandpa’s last name and the conversation spills over into the study where David was listening to his iPod. David favors the math and sciences. Of course, he would. His father was a doctor. However, Richard could contribute a few names from his ancestors that might have contributed a gene or two. 

“Oh, let me think: John Field comes to mind. He was an imminent English astronomer during the 16th century. Philip Reade, another ancestor was a physician that served in the military during King Philip’s War.” Richard explained and started laughing when he remembered Helen’s comment about witches.

“Why are you laughing?” David asked.

“Philip Reade was sentenced to go to prison for falsely accusing a woman of witchcraft.”

“Was she?” David followed up.

“No, that’s why the General Court sentenced him.”

“Any more?” David continued.

“Jasper Gunn was a physician and educator—in Milford.”

“Jasper,” David repeated and shook his head. “Sylvester, Heman and Jasper—cool, not.”

“Speaking of Milford, I seem to recall a story—I’m not certain it was Milford. No, it was a town in Fairfield County. Where was that?” He muttered. He went and pulled another book off a shelf, ‘The History of Fairfield County,’ and there he saw his note about the ‘Phantom Ship,’ page 92. “That’s right, Danbury.” He said pointing to the text.

“What? What happened?” Prudy asked. She laid down on her stomach and used her elbow and hands to brace her head as she listened.

“The Phantom Ship, that’s what it was called. It sailed from New Haven in 1647. It says here that in June of that year, a ship like the one that sailed appeared in the air—and I quote, was seen “sailing against the wind for the space of half an hour. Many were drawn to behold this brave work of God.””

“Really?” Prudy asked.

“Yeah, like Treesqueaks,” David laughed.

“You can read it if you want to.” He offered the book to David, but he didn’t take it. Richard continued, “it happened after a thunderstorm. It says that a Reverend John Davenport wrote—and again I quote, “That God had condescended for the quieting of their afflicted spirits, this extraordinary account of His sovereign disposal of those for whom so many fervent prayers were uttered.”

“What happened to the ship? Was it lost?” David asked.

“All it says was that they never saw the ship again.”

“I didn’t think you believed it David.” Prudy commented and laughed.

“I believe it was written. It just didn’t happen—a ship in the air!”