Book Read Free

Blue Birds

Page 1

by Caroline Starr Rose




  To Jamie C. Martin

  G. P. Putnam’s Sons

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  375 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia

  New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

  penguin.com

  A Penguin Random House Company

  Copyright © 2015 by Caroline Starr Rose.

  Map illustration copyright © 2015 by Richard Amari.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Rose, Caroline Starr.

  Blue birds / Caroline Starr Rose.

  pages cm

  Summary: “As tensions rise between the English settlers and the Native peoples on Roanoke Island, twelve-year-old Alis forms an impossible friendship with a native girl named Kimi”—Provided by publisher. Includes glossary and historical notes.

  Includes bibliographical references (page ).

  1. Roanoke Colony—Juvenile fiction. 2. Roanoke Island (N.C.)—History—16th century—Juvenile fiction. [1. Novels in verse. 2. Roanoke Colony—Fiction. 3. Roanoke Island (N.C.)—History—16th century—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Lumbee Indians—Fiction. 6. Indians of North America—North Carolina—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.5.R67Blu 2015

  [Fic]—dc23

  2014012100

  ISBN 978-0-698-17351-4

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Version_1

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Map

  July 1587

  August 1587

  September 1587

  August 1590

  Glossary

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  July 1587

  Alis

  Almost three months we’ve journeyed,

  each wave pushing us farther

  from London,

  every day moving us closer

  to Virginia.

  But now we’re anchored on sandy banks

  in a place we’re not to be.

  The enormity of our circumstance

  comes crashing down around us.

  Though this is Virginia,

  it’s not our new home.

  We will be forced ashore

  miles from where

  our pilot, Ferdinando,

  promised to take us.

  Yet our Governor

  does nothing to stop him.

  Alis

  How ready I am to leave this ship,

  stretch my legs, be free!

  But not like this,

  tossed out

  like yesterday’s rubbish.

  Father stands in the pinnace,

  holds his hand to me.

  “Come, Alis.”

  I step into the smaller boat,

  less steady,

  less sturdy.

  Mother eases in,

  cradling her belly,

  perspiration at her temples,

  her once-starched collar

  dingy and askew.

  “What will we do?” Mother whispers.

  Her cheek rests on Father’s shoulder.

  “How will we reach the land

  that’s been promised us?”

  “We’ll find my brother and his men.”

  Uncle.

  I grasp the wooden bird

  in my pocket.

  I did not dream

  of seeing him so soon.

  Surely he and the other soldiers

  will set things right,

  speak sense to Ferdinando.

  Maybe he has already

  caught sight of the boats,

  will welcome us onshore.

  Alis

  Before me is a place

  few Englishmen have ever seen.

  I lean over the bow,

  try to will the pinnace faster

  to trees pointing heavenward,

  a flock of cranes rippling the sky.

  Mother grasps my plait,

  gives my hair a tug.

  “Careful,” she says.

  The boat cuts through the water

  as wind snaps our sails,

  rocks us with each wave

  toward land heavy with trees,

  thick with darkness.

  The mysterious island,

  Roanoke.

  Alis

  The pinnace drops anchor,

  and that savage, Manteo,

  offers me his hand,

  the Indian who came to England

  with the Governor

  after his first voyage here.

  I shake my head,

  for even though he’s lived in London

  and dresses as we do,

  I’ve seen the hair as long as a woman’s

  he hides underneath his hat.

  I will not let him touch me.

  My steps are uncertain

  after our ocean crossing,

  and when I stumble in the sand,

  I ignore Manteo’s amused smile,

  choose not to stand but sit and watch

  the scramble of people,

  the rising tide,

  the pinnace already making its way

  back to the ships

  for the last of us.

  I scan the banks for Uncle Samuel,

  but he is nowhere.

  Alis

  The Governor bids us to follow him

  across the sandy beach.

  Marsh grass swishes against my skirts.

  London’s crowded streets

  smelled of rot and filth.

  I’d hold my breath,

  race my friend

  down Fish Street to London Bridge.

  Neither Joan nor I ever made it

  without pulling in deep gulps of air

  as putrid as death.

  Here,

  damp wood mingles

  with the warm sea breeze.

  The forest rises up,

  takes us in,

  and in the woods,

  scattered all around,

  pink flowers,

  starred yellow in their centers,

  tremble with each footstep.

  I pluck a jaunty bloom,

  tuck it behind my ear.

  Even on summer days

  the London light was weak,

  fighting soot and drizzling clouds.

  Here,

  sunlit patches

  cut through highest branches,

  a brilliant red bird wings above.

  Her sharp notes climb up,

  spiral down.

  In London stray dogs roam in mangy coats

  scrounging for a scrap of meat.

  Here,

  waves lap the shore,

  crabs dance across the
sand,

  berry bushes reach as high

  as entryways at Bishop’s Gate.

  What a strange and wondrous place!

  KIMI

  They crash through the forest.

  I crouch behind trees,

  watching

  as they

  stumble

  through underbrush.

  Never did I think

  these strange ones would return.

  Yet here they are again.

  Some think

  they are spirits back from the dead.

  Some say

  they have invisible weapons

  that strike with sickness after they’ve gone.

  Father

  said they were people

  like us, only

  with different ways.

  But how can I believe him?

  Father

  is dead.

  Alis

  Ahead,

  people gather in a clearing.

  We must be near the settlement

  where a few soldiers

  lay claim for England.

  Last year,

  when Uncle left us,

  he promised we wouldn’t long be parted.

  After his time in the Queen’s service,

  he’d be home again.

  How surprised he’ll be

  to learn we’ve come!

  I want to run ahead,

  clutch him in a hug,

  show him how faithfully

  I’ve kept his wooden bird.

  But my legs are unsteady.

  Surely Mother needs me near.

  The baby we await

  fatigues her so easily.

  Her face is worn.

  Her golden hair

  tumbles loose about her shoulders,

  and I lace my arm through hers,

  maybe hurry her more than she would wish,

  but gently,

  so as not to tire her more.

  Governor White and his assistants draw together.

  All about us

  words clash and climb

  until the Governor calls for silence.

  Two men break away from the Governor’s side.

  He says they’ll go ahead,

  enter the settlement through the gate.

  Even though I shouldn’t,

  I release Mother’s arm,

  drop my bundle at her feet.

  “Alis!” she calls,

  but I pretend I cannot hear her,

  for I must find Uncle.

  I skirt the crowd.

  A fluttering blue bird draws me—

  one with plumes as lavish as a gown.

  I pray it leads me to him,

  my uncle,

  who knows so much of wild things,

  but the bird escapes me.

  Somehow

  I’ve run

  far beyond the others.

  Somehow

  I’ve reached a ditch

  encircling an earthen barrier—

  one ring inside another,

  like the moat surrounding London Wall.

  It isn’t hard to slip down the ditch’s side,

  scale the embankment within,

  and I’m in the settlement—

  if this place could be called that—

  with homes empty,

  deer wandering through open doors,

  vines twisting about windows.

  Two of our men walk about,

  one towering over the other,

  whose nose is a mountain

  of lumps and bumps.

  I step back from view,

  stumble,

  fall into a heap of ash,

  the charred remains of a building.

  A scream

  claws at my throat.

  Bleached bones

  litter the ground.

  Alis

  My

  stomach

  rebels.

  I clutch my skirts,

  run back

  to the others.

  Alis

  I slip into the crowd,

  careful to keep near its edge,

  where I won’t be so easily seen.

  But no one has noticed my absence,

  for all are focused on Governor White.

  Twice he’s come to Virginia

  to map the land,

  paint the creatures who live here,

  determine where our city would someday be.

  Our Governor knows this island

  better than any Englishman,

  and remembering this brings relief.

  We are secure

  with him near.

  “George Howe Sr. and Roger Bailie

  have surveyed the settlement,” he says.

  “It has been

  empty

  for some

  time.”

  “Empty?”

  someone shouts.

  “What of the soldiers?”

  another says.

  A woman wails.

  “Who will help us now?”

  Those bones were nothing more

  than seashells, I tell myself,

  the remnants of a deer.

  The Governor’s beard is grayer

  than when we first left England.

  He worries his cap in his hands.

  “We are unsure what has happened,” he says.

  The enormous man

  I saw within the settlement

  whispers to the Governor.

  I see him stiffen.

  “Mr. Howe says

  there is a building

  burned

  to its foundation,”

  Governor White says slowly,

  “the

  bones

  of a

  man.”

  Uncle is safe,

  I think the same words over and over,

  trying to unsee, unhear

  this horror.

  But dread surges through me.

  The Governor knows nothing

  more than the rest of us.

  The Governor studies his daughter,

  Mrs. Dare, heavy with child.

  “Ferdinando’s promised

  to leave us the pinnace.

  For now we will rebuild,

  stay through the fall and winter,

  and when spring comes,

  we’ll sail to Chesapeake

  and establish the City of Ralegh.”

  Father’s eyes are troubled.

  “Someone is dead.

  Does this not concern you?

  And what of the other soldiers?

  Surely we should search for them.”

  The Indian speaks.

  “Perhaps my people know something.

  They live on Croatoan,

  not far from here.”

  The Governor nods his head

  too vigorously.

  Father presses his lips together.

  I know how he thinks:

  The Governor’s too hasty

  to claim the pinnace.

  He should force Ferdinando to take us farther.

  He’s too quick

  to trust the soldiers are elsewhere, safe.

  “Mr. Howe will lead us in,” Governor White says.

  The other assistants step aside.

  Mr. Howe,

  with fingers big as sausages, points ahead.

  He strides toward the village,

  where Uncle

  is meant t
o be.

  The deer scatter.

  The abandoned buildings

  hold fast their secrets.

  Alis

  My thoughts fly to Mother.

  I scold myself for leaving her

  with two sets of things to carry

  and push back through the throng

  until I’m outside the village again.

  The sun has brightened her cheeks;

  she tries to pin her hair.

  “Mother!” I shout,

  and she looks to me.

  “Where have you been?

  And what’s this on your skirt?”

  She dusts my dress,

  shaking her head,

  ushers me to the settlement.

  I touch my ear,

  discover my flower is missing.

  Over my shoulder,

  I study the ground behind me.

  In the midst of the forest,

  something shifts

  like a branch might in a breeze.

  A shadow flits between the trees.

  This is no bird.

  No wind stirs the leaves.

  Something

  lurks

  in the woods.

  KIMI

  Never

  have there been

  women or children.

  The first men, they came

  with tools and gifts, left

  with Wanchese and Manteo

  journeying to their distant world.

  The second ones came

  with friendship that turned bitter,

  with illness,

  with drought,

  eating our seed corn,

  beheading Father,

  Wingina,

  our weroance,

  leader of the Roanoke.

  The third ones,

  so few in number,

  weren’t here long

  before Wanchese did away with them.

  I’ve always thought

  they were a people

  of only men.

  KIMI

  The woman

  embraces one

  who must be

  her daughter.

  How plain they are!

  No copper at their ears.

  I touch the pearls about my neck,

  their beauty still new to me.

  The girl turns her head,

  her eyes,

  light as the rain-rinsed sky,

  search the wood.

  I step back

  into

  darkness.

 

‹ Prev