by Peter Roop
He looked at his daughter. “Samantha,” he said. “What I told is just within our family. No sense spreading more ill will.”
Samantha’s thoughts were jumbled. She needed time to sort her feelings. She nodded and said, “Thank you, Papa, for telling me. See to my pig, please.”
“I will. Fresh bacon will taste wonderful come the first hard freeze.”
The crowd thinned. The militia stopped drilling, and the men scattered to the taverns. Most folks living in Williamsburg retired for the evening. Those in for the fair from their farms and plantations had packed their wagons and were rolling out of town. Trails of dust followed them.
Samantha hurried. Night was not far off.
As she untied the Fish Hawk, Matthew called, “Sam, may I come with you? Papa says I can visit for a few days, now that the fair is over and the militia has practiced.”
Samantha smiled. “Of course, you can,” she said. “We will be pleased to have you.”
“Can we hunt? Papa gave me powder and lead for five shots.”
“I know where deer come to the river to drink,” she said. “We can go at sunset tomorrow.” Samantha paused. “Did you talk with Henry?”
“Yes,” Matthew answered. “He came to the store to speak with Papa while you were gone. He said to tell your parents he would be home later tonight. He and the Sons of Liberty have business this evening.”
Samantha concentrated on getting the Fish Hawk moving downstream in the current. The Fish Hawk glided on the ebbing tide. The falling evening breeze filled the sail just enough to move them gently along. As they drifted, Samantha and Matthew enjoyed the fiery setting sun, the bats darting after insects, and the frogs jumping. A woodpecker pecked for insects in an old pine. Rat-a-tat-tat.
“James was wondering if woodpeckers ever get headaches,” Samantha said.
She and Matthew laughed.
“Only James would wonder that,” Matthew said.
Samantha showed Matthew where the deer drank. She also pointed out the lodge of the muskrat that she planned to trap this winter. She and Matthew plotted the expeditions they would make while Matthew was visiting. They would hunt. Fish down on the James River. Maybe even sail partway to Norfolk if the winds were right.
Samantha saw the smoke first. “Look, Matthew!” She pointed over the forest.
“Someone’s burning trees to clear a new tobacco field,” Matthew suggested.
Samantha stared at the rising smoke. She took an oar and handed it to Matthew. “Paddle,” she ordered. “That fire is coming from our farm!”
Samantha dug her oar into the water. Whirls followed each dip as they paddled as hard as they could. Samantha kept her eye on the smoke. They rounded one bend, then another, and finally a third before the Byrd farm came into view.
“Our tobacco shed is on fire!” Samantha shouted.
Chapter 9
Pungent, black smoke swirled from the flames devouring the tobacco shed. The roof had collapsed. One wall remained. As they stared, yellow flames licked it. There was nothing they could do but watch the shed burn.
Papa’s hopes for buying more land died with the rising smoke. This was his last tobacco crop unless he got more land. Growing tobacco was so hard on the soil that new land was constantly needed to grow it. His land was used up, worn out. He had already switched to corn to raise food for Virginian soldiers. Now he would have no choice but to raise wheat too. The best money, however, lay in tobacco. Money that could send James to William and Mary. Money to help Henry buy land west of the Blue Ridge. If only he had received the land promised him for his war services. Then everything would be fine.
If only.
While Samantha gazed at the blaze, Matthew bent down and picked up a piece of crimson cloth.
“What is it?” Samantha asked as she took it from Matthew.
“A royalist badge,” Matthew explained. “Just as we Patriots wear hunting shirts, Tories wear these red cloth badges.”
“Whoever set the fire must have dropped it!” she exclaimed. “Wormley and his friends.”
“Wait until your father sees this,” Matthew said. “He will be madder than a cornered sheep!”
Just then, the wagon rolled into the farmyard. “Giddyap, you old nag!” Papa shouted at Jasper. Papa leaped out before the wagon stopped. “What in thundering tarnation happened?” he bellowed.
Samantha held out the red badge.
Papa threw it down. He ground it into the dirt with the heel of his boot. “Wormley is going to pay this time,” he growled. “The Sons of Liberty will see to it.”
“How do you know it was Wormley?” Mama asked.
“Has to be,” Papa said. “Nobody else is mean enough to burn a man’s tobacco.”
“He is meaner than a nest of disturbed water moccasins,” James chimed in.
Martha came up, crying. “What are we going to do?” she sniffed. “There won’t be money for sugar this winter. Or new lace. Or …”
Samantha sneered at her sister. She is the most selfish creature in Virginia, she thought. She didn’t dare say it out loud for fear of Mama’s reaction.
Papa took one last look at his burning shed and turned on his heels. “Let’s unload the wagon before it is too dark,” he said.
Samantha took charge of her pig. It had trotted home behind the wagon and lay exhausted in the dust. She brought water in a pan. Then she led the pig to the pen beside the barn. The pig wallowed in the dirt and settled in a corner.
“I’ll bring you slops later,” Samantha promised.
James unhitched Jasper, let him drink his fill at the water trough, and fed him hay and oats.
Mama and Martha went to prepare supper.
After feeding her pig, Samantha carried in an armload of firewood. She stirred the coals and added pine splinters for kindling. As the flames grew, she put in bigger pieces. She went to the well, filled a kettle with water, and hung it over the fire to heat.
Papa took his rifle from its pegs over the door. He oiled the long barrel and replaced the flint. He rattled his powder horn to check his powder and put new lead bullets into his pouch.
Mama watched him without saying a word. But when he stood up to leave, she blocked the doorway. “William Byrd, don’t you even think about going to Wormley’s plantation alone. He’s bound to have friends waiting for you to rush in like a wild boar. That’s just what he wants you to do, the coward that he is.” Mama knew all about Wormley’s cowardice.
“I’ll go,” Matthew volunteered. “Then Uncle William won’t be alone.”
“I’ll go too,” Samantha said.
“Me too,” James added.
Mama crossed her arms. “Not one of you is going to cross this sill unless you want to tangle with me.”
Papa stared at Mama, shrugged his shoulders, and put the rifle back on its pegs. Samantha frowned. Why had Papa backed down?
“You are right, dear,” he said. “We can deal with this in the morning. Henry will be here then.”
“You and Henry can go. I can’t stop you. You are grown men.” Mama turned to look at Samantha, Matthew, and James. “But you three, get any notion of going right out of your heads this very second.”
“Yes,” they chorused.
Samantha caught Matthew’s eye. He was thinking the same thing. They would find a way to join the men in the morning.
“Your water is boiling over,” Martha said sweetly to Samantha.
Samantha dashed to the fire and swung off the pot. She dipped out four bucketfuls and sloshed them into the wooden washtub that Papa had made from an old tobacco hogshead. Mama handed her a bar of lye soap. Samantha cleaned her muddy dress and corset. When she finished, her fingers were wrinkled, and she hated the dress more than ever. She hung it by the fire to dry overnight.
James and Matthew had already climbed up to the loft. She heard them settling down on their corn husk mattresses.
Martha was in bed when Samantha entered the small room they shared. Samantha set down
her candle and looked back. Papa was staring out the window, watching the last of the shed burn. A shower of sparks shot into the sky. He stood clenching and unclenching his fists. Samantha wondered what he was thinking. He stayed that way even after she blew out the candle.
Samantha quickly undressed and climbed into bed. She pushed the blanket to the side. It was too hot to sleep under it tonight. She closed her eyes. The day had been long, and she slipped quickly to sleep.
Chapter 10
Papa’s and Henry’s voices woke her.
“The farm smells like every pipe at Raleigh’s Tavern being smoked at once,” Henry said.
“Wormley burnt our tobacco shed,” Papa told him.
“What!” Henry exclaimed.
Mama said, “Hush! You’ll wake the children.”
Papa led Henry outside. Samantha heard their footsteps heading toward the shed. Ever so slowly, she felt along the cabin wall until her fingers touched a piece of cloth. She pulled on the cloth, revealing a narrow gap in the wall.
Samantha sniffed and rolled over as if she were trying to get more comfortable. She didn’t dare wake Martha. A glimmer of moonlight shone through the hole. Not even Mama knew the hole was there. When Samantha was little, she used to look through it and watch chickens peck or puppies roughhouse. Now Samantha used the hole to check the daylight when she went early-morning hunting. She couldn’t see Papa and Henry, but she could hear them.
“What are we going to do?” Henry asked.
“I want you to ride over to Daniel Walker’s. He and his boys are the nearest members of the Sons of Liberty. Ride with them to the crossroads. I’ll meet you there. We’ll ride on to Wormley’s together.”
“Are you expecting trouble, Papa?” Henry asked.
“I’m not sure if Wormley’s friends are still there. The more of us, the better chance we have of catching him. Tell Daniel to bring a pillow.”
Why would he need to bring a pilow? Samantha wondered.
“I’ll bring the tar,” Papa said.
Samantha drew in her breath. They were going to tar and feather Wormley. This she had to see!
She slipped quietly out of bed and dressed quickly. She listened to Mama’s gentle snoring and stole past her to the loft ladder. She climbed up to wake Matthew. He would never forgive her if she saw the tar and feathering without him.
The loft was as dark as the bottom of a well. Samantha stood still, and like a hunter on the trail of her quarry, she listened. She heard both boys breathing. Which one was Matthew?
She knelt down and put out her hand. She felt an arm. She shook it and whispered, “Matthew?”
“What do you want?” came a sleepy voice. It was James!
“It’s me, Sam,” she said. “Don’t make a sound or you will wake Mama.”
She heard Henry gallop away.
“James, wake up Matthew. Something’s going on.”
James grunted and poked Matthew.
“What is it? It’s too early to go hunting,” Matthew said.
Samantha hissed, “Shh. Don’t say another word. Just follow me.”
“I’m coming too,” James said.
“No, you are not,” Samantha told him.
“Then I’ll wake Mama and tell her you went somewhere in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, all right,” Samantha said. “But no whining.”
“I don’t whine,” James retorted.
Samantha wasn’t about to argue with him. She just climbed back down the ladder. The boys followed silently.
Samantha paused by the door to take her hat. The boys got theirs as well. Samantha lifted the latch, and the three stepped into the night. She glanced around to see if she could spot Papa, but he was still in the barn.
Samantha led them to the dock. They huddled in the shadows and watched Papa lead Jasper out of the barn. Papa gripped a wooden bucket. Awkwardly, he climbed onto Jasper. The old horse trotted down the trail.
When Papa was out of sight, Samantha signaled for Matthew and James to follow her. Thank goodness for the moonlight, she thought as they trailed behind Papa.
When they were out of earshot of the house, Samantha stopped. “Papa and Henry and the Walkers are going to tar and feather Wormley,” she said.
“What!” James exclaimed.
“Tar and feather him for burning our tobacco,” she said. “Don’t you want to watch?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for all the tea in England!” Matthew said.
“Me neither,” James said.
“Then we’ll have to hurry. We’re on foot and they’re on horses,” Samantha told them. Without wasting another second, the three ran down the road.
The moon hovered overhead. Samantha guessed it was well past three in the morning. Dawn was not far away. They would have to hurry if they were going to see Wormley get his due and be back in bed before Mama awoke.
If only we had horses, Samantha thought. If only there was a shorter way to Wormley’s place.
Samantha stopped so suddenly that Matthew bumped into her, and James crashed into Matthew.
“What in tarnation?” Matthew asked.
“We’re going to take a shortcut,” she said. “Otherwise we’ll never get there in time.”
Samantha looked around to get her bearings. They were halfway to Wormley’s. If they followed the edge of his tobacco fields, they’d come to his slave quarters. They could slip past them and get to the main house before the others arrived.
She explained her plan to James and Matthew. When they reached the field, they ran along it until they were in sight of the slave quarters.
Near the slave cabins, they stopped and listened. Samantha did not hear anything alarming. She motioned the boys on. They slipped behind the last cabin. Wormley’s house loomed on a hilltop. Trees surrounded it like guards on duty. There were plenty of hiding places. Samantha thought, We’ll watch, leave, and be back home before anyone knows we’re missing.
Crash!
James kicked over a wooden pail.
“Hoowwll! Hoowwll!” Wormley’s pack of hounds chorused.
Chapter 11
“Run!” Samantha shouted, pushing Matthew and James.
The dogs barked fiercely. Samantha looked back. Candlelight flickered in the big house. A gun blast split the night. The dogs howled as if after a bear. Samantha turned and ran and did not look again.
Out of breath, the three stopped deep in the woods.
“How could you be so stupid?” Samantha snarled at James.
“I hope he doesn’t loose the dogs,” he whimpered.
They listened intently. The dogs quieted. Without a word, the threesome trudged through the woods until they reached the road.
After a while, they stopped, this time listening for horses. Papa and Henry would return this way.
“Come on,” Samantha urged. “We have to get home before Papa.”
“Ah, Sam,” complained James. “I can’t go any further.”
“You’ll wish you had when Papa cuts a new switch.”
James took a huge breath and started running. Samantha and Matthew were close behind.
Soon they heard the steady pounding of horses’ hooves. “Here comes Papa,” Samantha whispered. “Quick. Hide!”
“Where?” cried James.
“Oh, just follow me,” she said, exasperated. If only he could do something right.
Samantha glanced around for a suitable hiding place. A massive oak stood off the trail. She crashed through the underbrush with Matthew and James behind her.
The beat of the horses’ hooves reminded Samantha of the drummers in the militia. Was it only yesterday? So much had happened so fast that she could not keep track. They ducked behind the tree, panting like overheated dogs. In the dim light, they saw Papa and Henry gallop towards them.
“Stay still,” Samantha ordered. No one moved until Papa and Henry had ridden past. They left their hiding place after the horses had disappeared around the bend.
“I ho
pe there wasn’t poison ivy,” James whispered. He scratched his arms.
“If there was, you deserve to itch,” Samantha said. “After all, you woke the dogs.”
She stalked toward the farm.
Now what are we going to do? Samantha worried. They couldn’t sneak past Papa and Mama. As soon as she lifted the latch, they would know.
If only they had beaten Papa back.
She stopped where the forest met their fields. Inside the house, a light glowed. Samantha sighed. They were in for a switching. Samantha rubbed her backside. She could already feel the switch’s sting.
The sweet smell of tobacco lingered. The moon hung in a tall pine. To the east, the sky was brightening from black to gray. A new day had begun.
“Let face the music,” Samantha said.
Matthew agreed.
James held back. “Wait, Sam,” he snapped.
Chapter 12
Samantha stopped in her tracks. “Now what?” she hissed.
“Let’s take the Fish Hawk,” said James. “We’ll pretend we went fishing early. Then we’ll have an excuse for being gone.”
Samantha considered his suggestion. It might work, especially since they hadn’t wakened Mama when they left.
Samantha patted James on the back. “Let’s try,” she said.
Accepting her leadership again, the boys followed Samantha to the dock. They climbed into the skiff. Matthew sat in the bow, ready to untie the Fish Hawk when Samantha gave the command. James sat in the middle, eager to do something else to help.
“Cast off,” she whispered. Matthew untied the painter and the Fish Hawk drifted away. The flowing tide was carrying them towards Williamsburg.
Samantha let them drift while she made up her mind what to do. Would it make a difference if they rode the incoming tide towards Williamsburg or paddled downstream? Either way they could fish. But where would they have the best chance of catching something? Downstream, she figured. So downstream they would go.
Samantha waited until they drifted out of earshot of the house. Then she said, “The current is taking us toward Williamsburg. We’ll have to paddle the opposite direction.”
“Right,” Matthew said, grasping the situation.
