The Dragon in the Cliff
Read The Dragon in the Cliff Online
Authors: Sheila Cole
The Dragon in the Cliff
A Novel Based on the Life of Mary Anning
Sheila Cole
Drawings by T. C. Farrow
TO MICHAEL,
who knows how to make dreams come true
CONTENTS
Something Stares at Me From the Cliff
An Accident Leads to a Discovery
New Places, Uncomfortable Thoughts
Joseph Takes Matters into His Own Hands
Hopes, Dreams, and a Lonely Reality
PREFACE
Although
The Dragon in the Cliff
is a work of fiction, it is based on the fragmentary facts available about a real person and the place and time in which she lived. Mary Anning was, in fact, the first person to discover the fossil of an entire marine dinosaurlike creature. She made this discovery in 1812 when she was thirteen years old. At that time the sciences of geology and paleontology were in their infancies and the existence of dinosaurs was as yet unknown. Scientists were just beginning to accumulate evidence that species evolve, putting in jeopardy long-held beliefs about the special place that human beings occupy in the natural world.
Finding the remains of a giant dinosaurlike creature would be exciting under any circumstances. But finding them under the circumstances of Mary Anning's life is a drama of a very special kind. Mary Anning lived at a time when women were excluded from scientific activity even if they came from well-to-do families. The fact that Mary Anning was not only female, but that she came from a poor family in a small town and still managed to contribute to the scientific work of her time is what makes her achievements so remarkable. It was in trying to imagine what it must have been like for her to have made such a discovery and how it affected her life that I came to write this book.
Sheila Cole
Solana Beach, California
January 2, 1990
I AM LOST
Outside my shop everything is quiet. All of Lyme, from the high to the low, are in their beds. All except me, and I cannot sleep. My brain is feverish from thinking about what has happened and what I should do. There is no one I can talk to about this, not even Mama. No one would understand, not my old friends, certainly, and not the geological gentlemen who are my patrons. I am alone, cut off from everyone, different from everyone, belonging nowhere. I am lost except for the fossils. To others they are only cold stones, the petrified remains of animals long dead, but to me they are so much moreâmy livelihoodâbut even more than that, my passion and the reason for everythingâmy difference, my isolation, and my joy. Would I be like the other girls in Lyme if I gave up fossils? Could I give them up? I don't even know. I am lost. Perhaps if I begin at the beginning I will understand how I came to be caught between two worlds and know better what I should do.
HOW I STARTED
There are people in Lyme who say that it isn't the fossils that made me different from others, but the lightning. On the nineteenth of August, in the year 1800, when I was fifteen months old, there was awful thunder and terrible lightning that made all of Lyme wonder.
The way it is told, a company of horsemen came to give a riding exhibition in a field near town. Elizabeth Haskings, who was watching after me, took me there so that she could see the jumping. A thunderstorm broke out not long after the crowd assembled and everyone scattered. With me in her arms, Elizabeth ran for shelter under a large elm. Fannie Fowler and Martha Drower also took shelter under the tree. There was a bolt of lightning and a terrible clap of thunder, the loudest ever heard. After a minute, a man saw the group lying motionless under the tree and called the alarm. Upon arriving at the elm, they found the girls dead.
I appeared to be dead as well. I was taken from Elizabeth Haskings's arms and carried to my parents' home. My parents were told to put me in warm water and by so doing revived me. People say that from that day on I was livelier and brighter than others in Lyme. That is why they credit the lightning for my being different and being able to discover the stone monster. They even say that is why I am able to talk to the cleverest scientists in England, though I am only a girl and am uneducated.
I don't think it was the lightning that set me on a different path. I believe it all began with Papa and his “curiosities.” That is what people in Lyme call fossils. Papa would go down to the beach to collect them every spare moment he had. Mama did not approve. “It's foolishness,” she would say. “A waste of time. You are a cabinetmaker, Richard.”
Papa would answer Mama patiently, “Molly, we have been at war with Napoleon for years now and there's a blockade which is ruining better men than I. I don't have many new orders for furniture these days and those old stones, as you call them, bring in money.”
Papa's answer would quiet Mama for a while, for she knew as well as he that travelers on the coach from Bath and visitors who came to bathe in the sea and stroll along the shore stopped at the little table outside the cabinet shop to buy Papa's curiosities.
Papa started to take Joseph to the beach with him when Joseph was nine years old. Of course, I wanted to go, too. I wanted to do whatever my brother did. “It isn't fair,” I would protest. “Why can Joseph go and not me? I'm almost as big as he is.” Standing on the tips of my toes, I would add, “Bigger than John and Ann. They're just babies, and I'm going to be seven.”
“We're not going to the beach to play, Mary. I'm teaching Joseph so that he can help me,” Papa would say, putting an end to my pleading until the next time.
One day I was not to be put off as easily as usual. I pulled at Papa's arm as he put on the old coat he wore to go collecting and begged to be taken along, promising, “I'll help. I'll be good.”
Mama pulled me from him roughly, saying “Enough! Mary, you can help me here. There is no water for washing up. Go fetch some and be quick about it.”
I took the yoke with the buckets, but instead of going to the pump, I followed Papa and Joseph up the Butter Market and down Long Entry, past the baths, keeping a safe distance behind them for fear of angering Papa. Oh, how I wanted to go curiosity hunting! Though, the truth is, I had little idea of what that meant. It was enough for me that Papa liked to do it and that he always came home with his face aglow from the sun and the wind and with exciting new curiosities to show us. Now Joseph was going, but not me. I watched jealously as the two figures, one tall and thin with a gray sack slung over his back, and one smaller with a blue cap, made their way down the steep path to the beach below. Then I turned back toward the pump. After filling the buckets, I struggled home under their weight.
The morning dragged on forever while I did my chores. I braided rushes for a new rug, listening all the while for the door of the shop downstairs to open. As soon as I heard it, I dropped the rushes and ran downstairs to the shop calling, “Let me see what you found. Let me see.” I pulled the curiosity basket from Joseph's hand and immediately started to empty it. “Did you find this?” I asked, holding up a sea lily, with its delicate branches and flowers.
“Papa found that one. I found this one,” he said. His long, oval face was unusually serious and important as he showed me a bullet-shaped curiosity. “Papa says it's called a thunderbolt.”
“Is it really a thunderbolt, from the sky? Tell me, Papa!”
“No, my dear,” Papa replied, “it only looks like a thunderbolt. It's a curiosity.”
“Was it a living creature once?”
“They say it was.”
“What kind of creature?”
“I don't know, my little monkey. No living creature I know of looks like that.”
“Where did you find this one?” I asked, holding up another curiosity.
In the midst of my questions I was called away to watch the little ones while Mama set out the soup and bread for dinner. But as soon as I could, I stole downstairs to the cabinet shop again where Papa was at work on the lathe. I picked the fossils up one by one. “Papa,” I shouted over the noise of the lathe, “Where did you find this one?”
Seeing that I was trying to say something, Papa removed his foot from the pedal so that he could hear me. I repeated my question, he started the lathe up again, shouting the answer as he turned the wooden block on the machine.
With all the shouting, it didn't take long before Mama called me away again. When I came upstairs, she glowered at me. “Your Papa is working and you are stopping him with foolish questions. What a bothersome child! I can't understand what has gotten into you.”
Though usually I was sensitive to a scolding, Mama's cross words that day had little effect. I was determined to learn everything that Joseph knew about curiosities and to be useful to Papa, too. That afternoon I went down to the shop again to sit at Papa's side while he cleaned the new finds. “Can I do one?” I asked.
“You must have a light, sure hand or you'll break the curiosity. Sit here and watch. You can brush away the bits and pieces of mud and shale I pry off with my needle,” Papa said.
I picked up the brush and watched as Papa worked the needle, carefully lifting the softer stone from the harder curiosity. “Papa, do you think someday I'll be a help?” Papa continued prying away the softer stone. “You are a help now, Mary. You run errands and you don't forget. You do your chores, you help Mama with the little ones, and soon you will learn to make lace. Mama depends upon you,” he said without looking up.
I cocked my head and brought it low so that it was on a level with his. “Papa, that's not what I mean. I mean a help to
you
with the curiosities. Helping Mama with the chores is dull.”
He put down the needle, stood up, and patted my head. “Dull or not, they must be done, Mary. We all have dull things to do.” He went over to the box on the floor where he kept his finds and began to search through it.
“But hunting for curiosities isn't dull. It's like a game,” I said after a minute.
Papa looked up from the box. His pale blue eyes took me in appraisingly. A smile slowly spread across his face, but he did not answer.
I remember my first fossil-hunting expedition as if it were yesterday. One day not long after I started to help Papa prepare the curiosities, when I was pleading as usual to be allowed to go to the beach with Papa and Joseph, Papa suddenly turned to Mama and asked, “Molly, don't you think we might let her come along?”
“Richard, whatever are you thinking?” Mama replied. “Girls don't belong down on the beach.”
“Only this once, Molly. When she sees how dirty and rough it is, she won't want to come again. She'll be happy to stay home with her knitting and the little ones.”
“I need her to keep them from getting underfoot so I can get my own work done,” Mama objected.
“Just this once,” Papa said.
I was in my cloak and wooden clogs and out the door before Mama had a chance to protest. I was going to find something magnificent and prove to Mama and Papa that I should be allowed to go curiosity hunting!
It was early. The town and the surrounding hills were shrouded in wet, gray mist, closing us into the small world of the shore. We walked along, glad to be out in the sharp salt air with the sound of the waves in our ears.
No sooner did we approach the cliffs of Black Ven than Papa began our lesson. “Joseph, where is the tide?” he asked.
“It's going out, Papa,” Joseph replied, glancing over his shoulder at me with a self-satisfied look.
“Yes, and that is the time to go curiosity hunting, when the tide is going out. Then you have plenty of time to do your work. You must always keep an eye on the tide and be sure to leave the beach in plenty of time before it is high again.”
“Papa, you once forgot,” I reminded him.
“Yes, and I'm thankful that I'm here to tell the tale. I was hammering right over there on a rock to break out a curiosity, when suddenly I realized that the sea was lapping at my feet. The beach on either side of me was underwater and in a short time I would have been underwater, too, if I hadn't climbed the cliff.”