and Father ushers me to his work shed,
where we sit by the fire,
enjoy the luxury of a bit of tea.
“I was almost a man
when my brother was born.
But when you came,
your uncle Samuel was a boy,
and he stayed forever by your side.”
It warms me to think
I might be to our baby
as Uncle was to me.
Hours later,
Mrs. Archard finds us
beside the glowing coals,
her face as stern as always.
“You have a son,” she says.
Alis
He is pure sweetness,
soft as dough left to rise
by the fire,
swaddled in a blanket
and in his cradle laid.
He is all sighing,
squeaking,
blinking,
a marvelous creation,
my precious brother, Samuel,
tiny babe.
KIMI
Mother,
I feel
the emptiness you carry
every time you pull me close,
the ache that speaks of your missing one,
Alawa,
the longing to touch her again.
I should attend to you
as two daughters would,
yet so swiftly I deceive you
to meet my friend.
Alis
As Mrs. Dare and baby Virginia have done,
Mother and Samuel must both rest,
and since I’ve had a bit of bread
and Father works at the forge,
I kiss the baby’s head,
encourage Mother to sleep.
I watch until their eyes flutter closed,
escape outside into the sun
to breathe deep the salty breeze.
From post to post I wander,
hoping to find a guard who’s missing,
distracted from his work.
At the station near the garden,
I see Manteo within.
Our eyes meet.
He inclines his head toward the wall,
turns his back to me.
He gives me permission
to cross over?
He said it was dangerous
for me to be alone.
Out there
where a man could wait,
his arrow aimed to strike,
out there
where Kimi waits for me.
Does he signal
because he knows the way is clear?
In haste I go,
before I can change my mind,
before anyone might see.
KIMI
How she talks,
her blue eyes dancing,
holds her arms as though
cradling something dear.
A baby?
My memory revives.
Her mother was with child
when they first came.
What a gift this little one will be.
KIMI
It’s always here we meet.
So much Alis hasn’t seen.
“Come.”
I grab her hand,
pull her with me.
We run
past thick-limbed oaks,
the beech and ash and maple trees.
I show her maquowoc
hanging from his tail,
the earth below, his sky above,
the sweet goodness of the strawberry,
at the shore,
digging down,
how cool the sand can be.
Eyes closed,
Alis smiles,
her toes burrowed deep.
Alis
KIMI
What a world,
this place
Kimi’s opened to me.
We sit together,
content with silence,
satisfied
in knowing the other’s near.
Alis
The breeze turns menacing,
treetops bend,
creak like our ship tossed on the waves
those months at sea.
Alis
That evening,
Mother serves a watery pottage
while I hold sweet Samuel to my shoulder,
kiss him when the cottage shudders
with the lashing wind and rain.
Father does not eat.
“What is it, Dyonis?” Mother says.
She takes his hand in hers.
“The Governor’s assistants have talked.
We’ve asked him to leave with Ferdinando
once all our goods are onshore.”
I cannot believe what Father is saying.
Governor White must go
With our mutinous pilot?
The man who’s anchored here
for these five weeks,
who’s been no help
removing our possessions?
Who’s offered us no shelter
in the midst of our enemies?
The words spill from me.
“You want the Governor to desert us.”
Samuel’s face reddens.
He opens his mouth to howl.
Mother takes him from me,
gathers him in her arms.
“If he doesn’t go to England,
how will Sir Ralegh learn
what’s happened?” Father says.
No good has happened here,
but to have our leader go,
to believe he must—
My insides knot;
I can’t imagine eating
this scant meal.
Outside the wind screams,
echoing the eerie songs
of the Roanoke.
“The Governor said no.
He’s worried it will seem
he’s abandoned us.”
Father pounds his fist on the table.
The bread plate clatters.
“What does it matter how things appear?
Would he have us die
to keep his reputation?
Ferdinando wouldn’t bother telling
we’re at Roanoke
and not Chesapeake.
The Governor must be the one
to ensure the supply ships find us.
We’ll have to bribe the pilot
to take Governor White at all.”
“Dyonis,” Mother says,
her voice high,
light like a melody,
“Remember Alis.”
“Mother, I’ve seen everything you have!”
I think of Kimi.
I’ve seen more
than Mother knows.
“And what of that savage man?” Mother asks.
“Does he stay or go?”
“He stays as Lord of Roanoke Island,
as our connection to the Indians
and the Queen’s representative.”
Mother stands
abruptly,
snatches away
the bread plate.
“I do not trust him,” she says.
Alis
All night,
our home is cuffed by violent winds
and waves of rain,
a hurricane.
This settlement will fly apart,
will be ripped like weeds,
until each board is stripped away.
This village is as fragile as an egg
unprotected in its nest.
I pray
for peace
and silence,
for just an hour of rest.
KIMI
The lashing winds
strip the bark from our longhouses.
The second-planting corn bends its head,
weeping for the harvest
that will never come.
But we are safe
here in our village.
This is enough.
Wanchese says the English
know nothing of the hurricane’s might,
and his men pound their heels on the earth,
raise their gourd rattles,
sing for their destruction.
Alis
Like the becalmed winds,
I’m less anxious now.
We,
all of us,
pick through the ruins from yesterday’s storm:
the reeds torn from rooftops,
doors thrown across the common,
benches piled like street rubbish,
branches strewn everywhere.
I gather wood
knowing Father and the other assistants
are talking to the Governor,
demanding he desert us so he might
direct supply ships,
ask for help moving to Chesapeake,
beg for rescue from the quick foes we’ve made.
George waits at the barracks
where they’re sequestered,
acts as messenger
to tell us news,
but as of yet,
there is none,
only a silent building.
Then Mr. Dare
opens the door
and signals to George,
who runs from woodpile to woodpile
spreading latest word.
His freckled cheeks
are burned a deepened red.
Before he reaches me,
I know what he will say.
The men have come to an agreement.
There is no turning back.
Alis
I remind Mother of the berries
the day we came,
and she allows me to search for them,
if I stay close to the boys who are hunting.
George assures her I’ll be safe.
No Indians will approach us
with his musket near.
We pass Manteo,
who shores up the wall
now further damaged
from the wind and rain.
He nods to me,
and I to him,
a reminder of the secret we share.
Once we’re beyond the gate,
I send the boys on,
for they are just as anxious
to be rid of me
as I am of them.
I pretend to search nearby
until they disappear.
KIMI
Footsteps fall
so close we might be seen.
I reach for Alis’s hand,
pull her behind the huckleberry.
The English boys
swing their weapons side to side
as they lurch about.
No deer will approach
such movement and noise.
How serious they are,
trying on
the stern faces of men.
Hidden in the bushes,
I pretend I am one of them.
Alis bites her lips
to keep from laughing.
Alis
KIMI
The boys pass by.
We climb high into a sprawling tree,
settle on a sturdy branch.
From here we can see everything.
The sunshine,
the dancing breeze,
I cannot help but swing my legs.
Alis hums,
her music
strange and beautiful.
I use my voice to follow.
So rich her sounds
that echo mine.
I stop my song to listen.
Kimi’s music fades.
“No,” I say.
“Please sing again.”
I lift my voice
in harvest songs,
a sad lament,
a child’s simple melody.
My skin prickles as though from cold,
though sunlight pours down on me.
Never have I heard
such grace, such mystery.
In this moment,
all is right,
all is just
as it should be.
KIMI
The boys approach.
We scramble down,
rush to fill our bowls with berries.
“Good-bye,” Alis whispers,
leaves our hiding place,
calls to the boys to wait.
Alis
Ferdinando and the Governor
will sail on the morrow.
I write to Joan,
try to describe
this remarkable world.
I do not speak of hardship,
only the sharp ocean air,
my baby Samuel,
the blue bird that makes a home here.
I cannot mention Kimi.
Fathers encourage sons
to send letters, too,
for their mothers to learn of their safety,
for a small measure of comfort.
Will they tell what happened
with Mr. Howe?
How our men mistakenly fought
our only friends?
And what of George?
Is his mother back in England,
hoping for news of their arrival?
I shudder to think of the message
he might compose,
then shake my head,
remember him marching with that musket,
anger dancing in his eyes.
Surely it is better
no one sends her word.
Alis
The Governor,
bedecked in his finest clothing,
proclaims to all
his intention to sail away,
tell of our difficulties,
send back supplies and more settlers
next spring, the earliest moment
ships can come again.
Though the assistants voted for this,
the faces of those around me
show not everyone is pleased
with his leaving.
Governor White acts
as if it’s his idea to go,
he says,
come spring, the rest of us
will sail to Chesapeake,
leave Manteo behind
to rule for England.
“There is one thing
I must tell you,” the Governor says.
He hesitates and starts again.
�
�I can’t go without your knowing.”
Like the winds that hinted at the hurricane,
whispers stir the crowd,
and all shove closer to the Governor,
whose wearied eyes
are those of an old man.
“My last time here,
we struggled with the Roanoke.
Our soldiers attacked their camp,
beheaded their leader, Wingina.”
My heart beats
wildly within me.
“In haste we sailed home,
not knowing
a new ship had left
with more soldiers to be stationed here.
I prayed we would find them safe.”
He says no more,
his shoulders hunched like one defeated.
Father strides to his side.
“Why did you
not speak of this
sooner?”
“At first, there was no reason.
We were bound for Chesapeake,
where new land, different tribes awaited,
a chance to start anew.
But when Ferdinando left us,
I did not want to frighten,
prayed for an opportunity to make peace.”
His voice quakes.
“It was a foolish hope.”
“No harm will come to us
while I am here,” Manteo says.
Father laughs.
“What power do you have,
one man against two tribes?”
Blue Birds Page 9
