Even fine tobacco land did you no good if there were no way to get the product to market. The shoals and the Virginia Burgesses made both sea and land access difficult, though many planters crossed the unlocated boundary into Virginia and disposed of their crops to ships waiting on the Nottoway or the Nansemond. Richard had been doing well with tar on the Machapungo, and he'd taken up his father's craft as a cooper when he married Pathelia. They'd sold Edward's land near the Scuppernong and he'd been considering the profits in land speculation when he'd been convinced by his brother to enter into business with him in Deep Creek. He'd begun having second thoughts. Milling was a slow and boring business. The millers he'd met while studying their operations with Joseph were a stolid, settled lot. Richard didn't want to become one of those, and he remembered his dread of any partnership that included Mary Bourne.
His new friend Teach's life was one of riches and adventure. Richard had known such men of adventure since he'd come to Carolina as a boy of Stephen's age. His brother Edward had lived that adventure for a brief time. Richard regretted that he was too old to live it. In any case, he was not a planter and he had no wish to be.
***
Pathelia Williams didn't show her age, but Stephen knew that she had to be over thirty. Her long blonde hair fell loose and curling from beneath her skullcap. The brown dress and green apron were clean, and her blue eyes twinkled like a child's. No wonder his Uncle Richard had married his dead brother's wife and had insisted on hurrying back to see her. His watched his uncle rush to embraced Pathelia as Captain Teach stood fingering his great, black beard. Stephen kissed his aunt, Carman was re-introduced, and they went into the house.
Stephen listened to Carman tell Pathelia Williams the details of her first husband's death. His uncle and Captain Teach continued drinking rum from the jug as Stephen drank rum and milk and watched the Captain's eyes narrow, focusing on Pathelia. By dark, the three men were drunk, with Captain Teach growing increasingly loud and disruptive. Twice he tipped the table over, spilling noggins of rum and beer. The second time he spilled the lighted lamp onto Pathelia's dress, setting it afire.
"I'll put it out!" Teach yelled, and with brute force pushed Richard from his wife, then fumbled clumsily with Pathelia's skirt, burrowing his face into her chest.
"Captain!" Carman insisted.
"She's my wife, Teach, not a swamp slut!" Richard yelled, and pulled Teach from his wife. A brief struggle followed, which ended with Teach seated back on the bench by the righted table.
"My friend has not slept for three nights, by dear," Carman said to Pathelia. "I'm sure he meant no harm. He's just drunk and tired. It's been a long day, has it not, Richard?"
"Aye, it's been a long day," Richard said, not completely satisfied.
"A long day, and I need a woman!" Teach called out. He stood up again, then fell backward over the bench.
"Let the great, black beard lie," Richard said. "Let him lie."
Richard took his wife outside. They stayed away as Stephen sat and talked into the night with his disfigured Uncle Thomas Carman. Captain Teach muttered in his sleep, but never moved.
Pathelia Williams remained inside the house the next morning as her husband bid farewell to Teach. The Captain seemed to remember nothing of the night before and gladly clapped Richard on the back, telling him what a good man he was, and how he looked forward to doing business with him. As the pirate stepped into the pirogue where Carman waited to take him to his ship, he tossed a small bag of coins to Richard.
"My compliments to your wife," he said. "She is a gracious and understanding hostess."
"And what business do you have with the likes of that man?" Pathelia Williams demanded of her husband when he went inside. Stephen thought she looked much older than on the previous day.
"To let him use my Machapungo land to careen his ship when time comes. And I sent word with Carman for Tobias Knight that Captain Teach is a friend of mine. Knight and Teach can form a profitable relationship, I think," Richard said.
"Well, you stay clear of him, husband. He's an evil man. His eyes shine out from all that hair like the eyes of a beast. He is a devil. You stay clear of the likes of him. I don't want to lose another husband to the devil's work."
Richard looked to his nephew and raised his eyebrows in mock terror.
Stephen had heard enough of his Uncle Richard's and Teach's conversations and mutterings to understand something of their deal. To serve as Teach's introduction to Thomas Knight, he carried two cured hams to the gentleman from Richard Williams. The Collector of Customs and Secretary to the Governor was known to have a taste for the meat cured with Anne Fewox's recipe. It would be a personal touch for opening conversation.
Richard was no close friend of Knight's, but they had been acquainted for some years. Knight had wed Catherine Glover, the widow of William Glover. Catherine Glover was a longtime friend of Richard's mother, and the Glovers had a daughter the same age as Richard's youngest daughter had been. William Glover had died in 1711—as had Governor Hyde, both victims of the fever which had swept through the colony just as the Indians were spreading slaughter. When scandal broke in the ordinaries over Knight's refusal to assume the debts of William Glover that came with the widow, Richard had been vocally supportive. Those had been debts owed to the Church, though, and many partisans complained that Knight was "robbing the Church." To quite them, Knight had become a vestryman in the West Parish of the Pasquotank Precinct, but people were talking, again. It was said that Tobias Knight was working with the pirates, trafficking in their stolen goods. The hams would introduce Teach to Knight, and Teach would introduce Richard's interest in profit-making cooperation.
Stephen thought of his uncle looking at him and raising his eyebrows. Stephen had been forced to walk away, so as not to laugh at his uncle and make his Aunt Pathelia more angry. His uncle made him laugh. His uncle was so different from his father; it was strange that they were brothers. His father had never lived anyplace but in that one house in Deep Creek. His father lived only to work and to work at planning for more work. His Uncle Richard had had an adventurous life. He'd lived in several places. He knew most of the people in this colony, it seemed.
What different men they were, Stephen thought. His father cared so much for what people thought of him, of his holdings, of his public morals, of his family. He didn't care so much about what his own family thought of him. He was a cold man, Stephen had told his brother. At least, to him. His father had never included him in a joke. His father's jokes weren't funny to Stephen.
His Uncle Richard was a free man. He was a strong man, and a brave one. He'd brought James back home through a hail of Indian's arrows and stones. He loved his wife and was faithful to her. If his father was faithful to his mother, it wasn't from love, but from a lack of passion and concern for what people would think.
Stephen wondered how long he could continue to live at Deep Creek. He realized that he didn't have to live there if he didn't want to. He was old enough, big enough, to go on his own. Captain Teach had wanted him. Others would. Or, he could still find Captain Teach if he needed to. His Uncle Richard was in business with the pirate!
Even in the swamp there was more freedom than there was at home. At Deep Creek he was a prisoner with no future. If his father built a mill and became wealthy, the mill would go to his brother James. Stephen felt no jealousy at all, just a small emptiness in knowing that, as second son, he would always be second best. At some time he would have to leave Deep Creek.
***
In mid-May, Thomas Biggs, Will, and four more crewmen arrived with his boat. They already carried hogsheads of tobacco that they'd boarded up the Roanoke River. The entrance to the Roanoke was difficult, Willy told Stephen. That's why his father had gone for the tobacco first, he said, before they had a heavy load of tar. The short, broad Cashie River ended its run between the mouths of the Chowan and the Roanoke, and small islands, mud flats, and piney swamp made navigation troublesome.
; "It's beautiful, virgin country, Stephen." Willy told him. "After you get past the mud flats into the river you start seeing the great old fields and the rich farmland that the settlers have opened. Many small planters, all looking fat and happy. There's an easy life to be had in Carolina, Cousin."
As they rode the current down the Chowan and into the Albemarle Sound, his Uncle Richard seemed to want solitude. He seemed busy with his thoughts, and offered little conversation. Stephen spent the time with Willy, telling of his struggle with the swamp and of the hidden society he'd seen. When he told of meeting and traveling with a pirate, his Quaker cousin's eyes opened in surprise and envy.
Robert Fewox met the boat at Scuppernong and said that Anne was visiting in Bath, and so they sailed on to Deep Creek.
James Williams let the froe hang by his side as he peered down the creek. He was right; it was his uncle's boat.
"It's Stephen and Uncle Richard!"
Mary Williams stuck her head out of the opening to the shelter she used during the day. Nights were still spent at Tom's house. She put down the knife she was using to skin a rabbit and wiped her hands on her apron. She hurried down to the landing.
Stephen jumped from the boat and wrapped the rope around the piling. He ran to his mother and put his arms around her.
"I was worried about you, Son," she said.
"No need to worry, Ma. I was with Uncle Richard and Grandpa. Nobody knows the swamp like Grandpa."
"Well, you come get something to eat. I know Grandpa didn't cook for you in the swamp," Mary Williams said. She led her son to the shed while Joseph Williams stood talking to his brother, never having acknowledged the return of his youngest son.
Joseph Williams had organized operations at Deep Creek. Separate work crews attended to the house or to the mill. Everyone had worked together to clear the debris of the fire. The only thing that remained was the chimney, and many of its bricks had crumbled.
Dick Harbut was in charge of constructing the mill, following Joseph and Richard's specifications. James and the four workers from the swamp labored on this, the more important of the projects. Grandpa Bourne, Stephen, and Willy worked with Thomas Biggs on the house. They were allowed framing timbers, but no additional workers.
Grandpa Bourne had returned from the swamp in fine mettle, insistent on turning over a hidden reserve of notes and coins he'd earned in many dealings as agent for swamp labor. The family was astounded at the cache, and Grandma Bourne had begun a series of accusations and harangues. Within weeks, Stephen grandfather was returned to what he'd been before their trip into the swamp. He wasn't master of himself in civilization, Stephen saw. It frightened him and he only felt sorry for his grandfather, again.
Grandma and Sister Mary were making soap and candles. They had always worked together. With supervision, Sister Mary was a good worker. Her soap always "made."
"Nobody makes better soap than Sister Mary does," her Grandma Bourne always said. The girl would beam when she heard it, and ask her to repeat it.
"Who makes the best soap, Grandma?"
Now they were making soap and candles for sale to neighbors who were looking for a way to help when they paddled their pirogues up the creek to watch progress on the mill. Stephen watched the odd pair at work and wondered if his grandmother spent so much time with his sister out of shame for what she'd done.
When Grandpa Bourne offered to pay for the house their father had refused, at first, James reported to Stephen. But when Grandpa Bourne had insisted, saying that he wanted to build a house which neighbors in Norfolk County would be envious of, their father changed his mind. The house would have two stories and a gambrel roof, the new Dutch style hip-roof that he liked
That was the beginning to Grandma Bourne's tirades, James said. She had exploded; worse than she'd ever done before.
"What is a gambrel roof? How do you know what a gambrel roof is and I don't? Since when have you been looking at roofs?"
"I've always looked at roofs," Grandpa had said.
After three weeks of their mother's nagging, their father agreed to allow volunteers to work on the house and to let Harbut spend some time on the house at the later stages. The finishing that required a carpenter could wait. Everyone knew something about building a house. Tom Biggs had raised three.
Stephen was pleased. He wasn't interested in the mill and he desperately didn't want to work under his father. Grandpa Bourne and he had already learned how to work together in the swamp. He got along well with his Uncle Thomas, and Willy was envious and eager. Stephen was sorry not to be working with James. James was better with tools than he, and James often helped him when they worked together.
Stephen noticed other differences from his brother, now that they'd spent time apart. James bragged about the excursion that he'd taken while his brother was away. He'd gone into Norfolk Town, ridden in a carriage with young Mister Boush, and gone to the tavern that that young man frequented. He'd listened to other young fops telling stories of their trips to London. They'd talked of girls, wine, and the theater. There were coffee shops on every street, they'd said. James's dream was to go to London. Stephen didn't share that dream. His thoughts went back to Carolina.
At night the men talked about their work, and that was another relief to Stephen. He didn't have to spend time with his father and he didn't have to hear about the mill. He didn't want to know anything about it. His uncle seemed tired of it, too. In his second week back, Stephen heard loud words being exchanged between his father and his Uncle Richard. It was over immediately, and his Uncle Thomas Biggs made the boys go back to work chipping at mortise joints in the sills.
On a Friday afternoon in early July, his Uncle Richard called Stephen to the edge of the old orchard.
"I'm going into Norfolk Town to search-out word on ship arrivals. Want to row along with me?" he asked Stephen.
Stephen's wanted to go, but wondered why his uncle had such a strange smile on his face.
"I think, maybe, it's time you had a woman," his uncle whispered.
Stephen stopped breathing.
James and his father walked to the landing as the boat returned the next morning. James caught the line his uncle threw while his father turned back and went to the hut that the family was staying in. Two other huts housed the Bournes with the Harbuts, and Richard with the workers.
Richard and Stephen had stopped singing when they saw Joseph waiting. James gave them a hand and they stepped from the boat, but Stephen stumbled and fell, anyway. Richard helped him up and whispered to his nephew to be quiet, that the family was still asleep.
"Pa says you're not to work on the house today. He said tell you to dress those four timbers he'd laid out for me to work on. He says you're to dress those logs before you get any sleep."
"Dress those four logs! I'll be up till tomorrow morning. My arms will fall off!" Stephen giggled and slipped to the ground.
James helped him up again.
"You smell like cheap liquor and cheap whores," he said.
"I do," Stephen admitted. "Yes, I do."
Stephen leaned against a tree and took off his shirt. He threw it into the water, then took off his shoes and hose. He turned around and jumped into the creek. He ducked his head, washing his hair and face, trying to rid himself of the smell. The exuberance of the wine and whore were wearing off. His head was splitting, his stomach churned, and his nose was still full of the smell of stale piss and sweat. He'd never forget the girl. She was about his age but she was nearly toothless and she was filthy. He remembered his uncle laughing at his blush when the girl slipped a grimy hand inside Stephen's pants. Even as he tried to wash the filth away he felt himself stir again with memory of the thrill.
On Sunday morning, Stephen was shaken awake by his mother. He'd only slept a few hours, having been at his punishment dressing timbers until nearly midnight, aided by a bright moon and two torches. He tried to hold onto his dream of Nancy Manning, but his mother's voice chased it away.
"G
et up, boy. You've need of church today. Get up!"
His mother knew about the girl! He opened his eyes.
"Big enough to go whoring, are you? God saw you with the wench. God saw you! And now you're dreaming about her, are you?" She glanced down at the rise in his bedclothes, then coldly into his eyes.
"You risk eternal hellfire for that? Get up from there!"
Stephen was shaken. How did she know? What would he say? The rise in his bedclothes had fallen and he got up from his bed of straw and ran to throw water on his face.
Mary Bourne had not been raised in the Church, but she took to it with fervor when she married Joseph Williams. That was one thing about his wife that her husband appreciated. The county knew her as a pious woman and that helped his stature in the community. She'd even approved when he'd paid to have their last minister give him and James reading lessons. They'd be able to read the Bible to her, she said. But very little had come of the lessons, and they had ended when the minister left the parish, soon thereafter.
Becoming Americans Page 44
