Roanoke (The Keepers of the Ring)

by Angela Hunt

  “Why, whatever can ye be meaning, William?” The girl blushed and lowered her blue eyes demurely. She was not gentry, that much was obvious by her rough Irish speech and her freckled complexion, but her manners were good and mayhap she could rise above her birth, just as he planned to. If he couldn’t win the mistress, ‘twould be a shame to let his efforts in minding the maid go to waste.

  He shuffled the cards into his hand and lay the stack on the table. Gently, carefully, he removed his cap with one hand and placed his other on the soft hands Audrey held in her lap.

  “‘Tis not my place, but I can’t sleep another night without tellin’ ye this: you are a beautiful girl, Audrey Tappan, the most beautiful and bonny lass on the ship.”

  She blushed to the roots of her red hair, and he felt her hands clench under his. Ah, sure, and she thought he had been but playing a game ‘till now, and hadn’t he been? But ‘twas time to state his intentions, and make his claim before any of the other men on board realized how acute was the shortage of women bound for this colony.

  “Why, William, I—”

  He smiled at her confusion and pressed his finger across her pink lips. “Soft, dear, don’t say a word. ‘Tis enough that ye know how I feel about ye, and if the governor’s up to performing one marriage, mayhap he’ll perform another after we land at Chesapeake.”

  She paled then, and he smiled inwardly at his success. A gust of wind blew through the porthole and scattered the cards. William patted Audrey’s hand, then released it. “You’d best be getting back to your mistress,” he said, giving her a wink. “We’ll talk later, love.”

  She moved away as if in a daze, and when she was safely beyond hearing, James began to laugh. “How are ye going to marry that girl?” James asked. “Ye can’t marry until you are free, yet here ye are making promises—”

  “With any luck, old Roger Bailie will die from heatstroke before we reach land,” William said, stacking the marked cards into a neat pile. “I could set foot on Virginian soil as a free man, with my five hundred acres and Audrey’s five hundred acres—” He paused to figure in his head. “—With one thousand acres to my name.”

  James gave his friend a doubtful look, and William neatly stuffed the cards into his doublet pocket. “Anything can happen at sea, my friend.”

  From the small window on the passenger deck, Jocelyn studied the ship’s shadow on the ruffled surface of the sea. The ship had spread her wings like an eager hawk to take advantage of the rising wind, and the miles streamed out behind her, a white path stretching straight and true into the east. Jocelyn felt that God had suddenly smiled on the ship, but had he smiled on the quick marriage she had entered?

  “I heave you’ve gone and married the minister.”

  The words broke Jocelyn’s thoughts, and she looked down to see the petite form of Alice Chapman. She had only spoken with the lady a few times while aboard ship, but she knew that Alice’s husband had been the rector of a church in England.

  “Yes.” Jocelyn forced a smile. “I suppose I have.”

  The older woman noticed her hesitation. “Are you having second thoughts?” she asked, her hand coming to rest upon Jocelyn’s. Her eyes scanned Jocelyn’s face. “Why should you, my girl?”

  Jocelyn looked out to sea, not sure she could be totally honest with this woman or any other. “How can you know if a marriage is right?” she asked, twisting a handkerchief in her hands. “God didn’t write my answer on the wall. What if I have made a mistake?”

  The lady clucked in quiet pity. “My child, we don’t know anything until we take a step of faith. God has promised to direct our paths, and paths are made for walking, you know. The moment you accepted the minister as your husband, he became God’s choice for you.”

  “Really?” A bud of hope sprouted in Jocelyn’s heart.

  “Do you love him, dear?”

  Jocelyn pressed her lips together. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Jocelyn felt herself dimpling in embarrassment. “Well—you wouldn’t know it to look upon him, but he has a wonderful sense of humor. Often as we talked on the deck, he told me funny stories about growing up in the country. And he’s kind—haven’t you seen the gentle way he works with the young boys? And of course he’s honorable, and wants to serve God. I don’t think he fears the Indians or any danger we might meet in Virginia.” Her spirits lifted as she talked, and she ended by giving Mistress Chapman a shy smile. “I think I can trust him to be a good husband, even if he never loves me in the way I love him.”

  The freckled hand over hers moved in a gentle patting motion. “Love is a decision, my dear, and today you have both made it. Trust God to do the rest.”

  The older woman moved away, and her words rang in Jocelyn’s heart as she stared out to sea. God would have to work a miracle to make Thomas love her. Could she trust him for that?

  The welcome wind of the afternoon blew into a thundering gale, and once again the passengers and seamen on the Lion were soaked, rattled, and rolled about on the ship. Jocelyn wanted to go to the afterdeck and find Thomas, but Eleanor panicked, afraid she would be knocked about and injure her baby. Agnes could not calm her, nor Audrey, only Jocelyn would do.

  The ship rocked for two full hours in the night, then finally the ocean calmed itself and Eleanor and the other women slept. Through the cannon ports Jocelyn could see the pinking of dawn in the east, and she climbed the narrow companionway to the upper deck to enjoy the morning breezes.

  The sailor atop the crow’s nest whistled appreciatively as she walked below, but Jocelyn ignored him and climbed to the quarterdeck at the stern of the ship. The deck gleamed in the early morning sun, fresh and clean from the storm. A gentle rain still fell, but Jocelyn welcomed it, for it washed the grime of sea salt from her hair and skin. Reaching out her hands to catch a few drops of the blessedly clean water, she stood silently with her eyes closed.

  Footsteps sounded and stopped beside her, and Jocelyn shook herself from her reverie and opened her eyes. Thomas Colman stood at the ship’s rail, his eyes focused on the sunrise, his slender back angled toward her. He must have seen her, though he did not speak, and she wondered if he prayed or meditated. She was about to go below, unwilling to disturb his thoughts if he wanted to be silent, but as she turned, he spoke.

  “Good morrow, Miss—Mistress Colman. Did you fare well in the storm?” His eyes did not move from the eastern horizon.

  “Yes.” She hurriedly wiped dried her wet hands on her skirt. “My cousin would not let me leave her. I would have, but—” She stopped. Did she dare mention that she wanted to find him?

  “You are quite a help to your cousin.” He gave her a quick glance over his shoulder. “You are to be commended. Self-sacrifice is a virtue, and seems to be part of your nature.”

  Jocelyn bit her lip. Were his words a genuine compliment, or did he measure her for her role as a minister’s wife?

  “I serve Eleanor because I love her.”

  “As I serve God.” His knuckles tightened on the railing. “Last night I thought God would surely sink us all, for, like Jonah, I fear I have sinned against him.”

  “You have sinned?” He was not making idle conversation; she could hear honest pain in his voice. She moved closer to his side. “What could you have possibly done?”

  “I married you.” The words struck at Jocelyn’s heart and she gasped as if he had thrown a dagger into her bosom. He continued, his words cutting her heart. “In the midst of the storm last night I thought I should come here, to this very deck, and throw myself overboard to appease our angry God. Then I remembered that God prepared a great fish for Jonah, and I believe he surely prepared a great fish to wait for me.”

  “In truth, you are speaking in riddles,” Jocelyn whispered, searching anxiously for the meaning behind his words. She dared to place her hand over his. “Why should our marriage be such a sin?”

  “I have wronged you.” He turned to face her, and his dark eyes glinted with the power
and passion for which she had searched in vain as they were married. “Verily, I made a mistake in marrying you, Jocelyn White. I pray you will forgive me. Mayhap you should see your uncle about having the marriage annulled.”

  “Annulled?” She clung to the rail for support as he pulled away. “How can you decree that you have made a mistake when I, too, have a voice in this matter? I would not have married you, sir, unless I was certain our marriage was according to God’s will and favor.”

  She gripped his arm and forced him to look at her. “I thought you saw, sir, that our marriage is the best solution for both of us. I have no one, now that my father is dead, except my uncle, and my uncle has judged it right that I marry you. And I love the same God you have pledged your life to serve! I can be your helper, your friend, your companion as you undertake your work in Virginia, so why would you turn me away?”

  Her breath came quickly; his eyes seemed to focus on her lips. “I had hoped you would refuse me. The work of the ministry demands all of a man . . .”

  Jocelyn pulled herself up to her full height and lifted her chin. “I am strong, sir, and not easily bowed. You have reasons for regretting this marriage, but I swear I will not require much of you. But you have given your word, and to cast me aside—”

  He leaned closer and she felt the power of his gaze. “Would you stay with a man thirteen years older than you?”

  “Yes.”

  “A man of the common folk, and you being a lady?”

  “In Virginia all men are equal.”

  “You, young and virtuous, would be wife to a man who has left his son? A man who has buried a wife already?”

  “My own mother died before her time; I never faulted my father for it. And you have done what is best for your son, I have no doubt.”

  “You would marry an imperfect man, a man who has committed the vilest sins recorded in the Holy Scriptures?”

  “Who among us has not sinned? And do not the Scriptures say that one sin is as another in the eyes of God? I am as vile a sinner as you, Thomas Colman, and as dedicated to God’s service.”

  She felt her cheeks burning; she had not felt so alive in weeks, and he seemed to shrivel as she blazed up at him. “I understand your reluctance, for I know your character better than you think, Thomas Colman. You may think you were wrong to marry me, but you would commit a greater wrong if you turn me away.”

  He said nothing for a moment, but his look traveled up and down her. “Yes,” he whispered finally, smiling as his eyes watered in the damp breeze that blew in their faces. “That would be a sin.”

  She caught her breath at the unexpected warmth in his words. He lifted his hand to her hair and caressed her with his eyes for a brief moment, then abruptly turned and left the quarterdeck.

  Jocelyn sighed in exasperation. He saw her all too clearly, read her face like an open book, but kept himself carefully guarded. Did grief hold him prisoner? Very well. If he still grieved for his wife, she would be patient. But God had called her to serve with this man, and serve she would, until he finally found freedom in her love.

  Though she herself had been uncertain of the wisdom of their marriage, she knew that after this moment she would never look back.

  “My father crossed the western ocean in only twenty-eight days two years ago,” Eleanor whispered one hot afternoon. She lay on her back upon the hard wooden floor and her skin glistened with perspiration even though Agnes had not ceased to fan her for the last hour. “We have been at sea how long now, Jocelyn?”

  “Forty and two days,” Jocelyn murmured, drawing her knees to her chest under her long skirt. She rested her head on her arms. “Surely we are nearly done with this endless ocean.”

  “Ananias assures me so every day, but every night I find myself lying here on this floor,” Eleanor said, the ghost of a smile crossing her face. A small twinge of discomfort fluttered across her brow, but she dismissed it with another smile. “In truth, my baby is impatient, too. He kicks in protest.”

  “What does the reverend your husband say, Mistress Jocelyn?” Agnes asked, a new tone of respect in her voice.

  Jocelyn shrugged. “He knows no more than we do. I doubt if even Simon Fernandes knows when we will reach land.”

  “I heard the lookout say he spotted birds yesterday,” Audrey volunteered, opening her eyes from where she lay on the floor. Jocelyn had thought her asleep, for the girl had been unusually quiet and thoughtful in the last few days. “The seamen say if birds are about, land is no more than two days away.”

  “I wouldn’t know, bein’ as I don’t talk to the seamen,” Agnes retorted loftily, lifting her chin. “A lady’s maid shouldn’t mix with the likes of them . . .”

  Jocelyn sighed and rose . She could not bear the stifling atmosphere of the confining hold for one moment more, and though she knew Fernandes had been short-tempered with any passenger who dared ascend to the upper deck, she would gladly risk a confrontation with the captain for ten minutes of the breeze in her hair.

  She climbed the narrow companionway to the deck and nodded to a seaman who grinned at her. “Please, I won’t get in the way, but I must have a breath of air,” she whispered.

  “Aye, missy, and would I be denying ye breath for your pretty self? Stand over there behind the capstan, and the captain won’t be seein’ ye for a good time. But ‘twill do me eyes good just to look at ye.”

  Jocelyn smiled her thanks and moved to the rail beside the capstan, a large, revolving drum used to raise and lower the anchor. She stood at the rail for a long time, her eyes closed. The rhythmic thump of waves against the ship, the sailors’ sea songs, and the mellow creaks and groans of the ship’s timbers were nothing but background noise now, and she thought she could hear the breathing of sea creatures, mayhap a whale or porpoise. Several times she had seen dolphins racing the ship, but today all was quiet on the broad expanse of the deep.

  Keeping a careful eye out for Captain Fernandes, she moved away from the starboard side of the ship toward the bow. As the bowsprit rose and fell, flecks of sea spray fell upon her cheek and the moist Caribbean air blew through her hair. She inhaled deeply. Ah, Audrey’s sailor was right, she could smell land, a rich, earthy, humid, living scent of trees and grass and

  animals . . .

  She leaned dangerously forward, scanning the horizon. Clouds hung lazily between the sea and sky, but something brown did seem to rise in the distance. She turned and looked up toward the crow’s nest, a question on her face.

  “Yes, Mistress Colman,” Simon Fernandes stood behind her, and she jumped. “That is Dominica on the horizon. We have arrived.”

  “Does my uncle know?” Despite her displeasure at seeing the captain, she felt like screaming with joy.

  Fernandes nodded. “I have told him myself. He wants us to land immediately, of course, but that is impossible.”

  Jocelyn’s heart sank. “We cannot land?”

  “Of course not. These are the waters of the Caribbean; the Spaniards race their treasure ships through these waters and would escape us if we were anchored in the harbor. Part of our mission, Mistress Colman, is to recapture the value of goods that have been pirated from our English ships.”

  “But we need water!” Jocelyn’s hands gripped her skirt in rage. Could he not look at her and the others and see how badly they needed fresh food, fruit, and water for bathing? “Please, captain, let us anchor wherever we can. My cousin and Mistress Harvie are pregnant, Mistress Viccars has an infant, the young boys have grown so pale. Why, George Howe’s leg is infected, and there is no fresh water to cleanse his wound—”

  “We will land when I give the order,” Fernandes answered, stepping back. “You are too much like your uncle, Mistress Colman. You forget who commands this ship. Now I’d like you to rejoin the others below decks.”

  Jocelyn squared her shoulders and moved past him to the companionway. ‘Twouldn’t be fair to tell the others that she’d actually seen land. The sight and smell of land, with no hope of lan
ding, would be too great a frustration.

  TWELVE

  The Lion spent the next three weeks cruising through the islands of the Caribbean. John White grew more angry with each day that he and his people were held prisoner aboard ship, but Simon Fernandes, intent upon finding and capturing the cargoes of Spanish treasure ships, cared only for piracy. After three weeks with no sign of Spanish ships, neither man was satisfied.

  Finally Fernandes anchored off St. Croix and allowed his passengers three days and nights on the island. Despite her joy at being released from the filthy ship, Jocelyn looked forward to going ashore with mixed feelings. As a married woman, would she spend her nights with her husband, or would Thomas expect her to remain with the women?

  Once the shallop deposited them on shore, Jocelyn no longer had time to worry. While she and several other women gathered fruits that resembled green apples, Thomas went off with a group of men to scout the seashore for food.

  The green fruit proved to be poisonous, and the women who ate of it felt their mouths burning within minutes. Several of the women’s tongues swelled to the point that they could not speak, and Elizabeth Viccars’ nursing infant was even affected through his mother’s milk.

  Hours later, the group of meat hunters returned, exhausted from struggling to carry a giant sea turtle back to camp. While searching for water, another group made the mistake of bathing in a stagnant pond. The water proved to be a miasma, poisoning those who drank from or bathed in it, and caused such swelling that those who splashed their faces in it could not see for five or six days.

  By nightfall, fully half the colonists lay moaning or retching as they lay on palmetto fronds in the sand, while the others nursed them with healthy slices of tortoise and handfuls of fresh water, finally found on the far side of the island.

  Jocelyn’s youth and strength had borne the poor food and conditions on the ship easily enough, but the ravages of the bitter fruit left her weak and wanting to die. Audrey lay stricken, too, and was of no help, so Jocelyn curled into a tight knot and lay quietly in the sand, her arms wrapped around her aching stomach. “Please, Father God,” she mumbled over her swollen tongue, not caring who heard her, “Let this be the end. If this is what you have in store for us, show mercy and end it now.”