by Paul Clayton
White’s heart raced, his breath coming fast. “But surely they can spare one small ship such as the Arrow.”
Sir Richard’s demeanor was unchanged. He shook his head. “No vessel can be spared now, not even a wherry. I am sorry, sir.”
White blinked his eyes rapidly, as if his vision was failing him. “My… my daughter and granddaughter are there, and the others… ” White’s voice grew plaintive, “they thought… we thought we were going to Chesapeake.” He looked at Grenville, suddenly hopeful. “You know of the dangers, sir. You were at Roanoke when… ”
“I believe Sir Richard has made the Privy Council’s decision clear, sir.” The younger gentleman’s tone was mildly scolding and condescending. “There is nothing that can be done.”
White lunged at the young man, slamming him against the wall. “Nothing can be done?” White shouted, spraying the man with spittle. “Nothing can be done? With a thousand savage bowmen only a day’s march from my daughter and granddaughter and you tell me that that nothing can be done!” White’s chest heaved with rage. “Do you not know what they do to their captives?” he shouted. “Do you not know?”
The young man’s mouth opened and closed, fishlike.
“Governor White… ”
White turned and looked at Sir Richard. Then White’s face collapsed and he released the man, storming out the door. The young man staggered to a stool and sat. He pulled his collar away, coughing.
Spencer turned to Sir Richard. “He is overwrought, m’Lord. Please forgive him.”
Sir Richard frowned thoughtfully. “Indeed. In all the years I have known John White, I have never known him to lose his temper so. Go to him, man, and try and calm him. Tell him that as soon as this bloody business with the Spaniards is over we will get him and his supplies to Virginia.”
Spencer nodded and rushed out to find White.
Chapter 20
April 21, 1588. Roanoke
Maggie walked with her friend Elizabeth, and Paulina, Anne, and the other serving women beneath a sunny, cloudless sky. Each carried a basket of seed corn as they headed down the path to the field the men had recently cleared for planting. Ahead of them, a couple dozen common men and soldiers walked with their hoes over their shoulders, talking quietly among themselves. This morning Maggie had watched a column of soldiers file out of the fort and head to the shallop for a trip to the mainland. The sight of them reminded her of what Thomas had said about gold hunting. Other common folk also spoke of a secret quest by the colony’s gentlemen to find gold. Maggie did not believe any of it. She thought that probably the gentlemen were just more interested in hunting and adventures, and the soldiers in lying about in the woods, than they were about working in the fields here or marching and drilling in the hot sun. And lately there was less and less talk of gold and more and more speculation about when a ship might call -- for now that spring had come, so, surely, would a ship.
Maggie removed the kerchief from around her head, enjoying the breeze on her brow. She knew it would be hot by midday but she didn’t mind, preferring that to the bitter cold they had endured over the winter. The cold had put an end to fifteen people. Maggie thought sadly of how little Sarah Hill had been among them. She had died three days after her mother, Alice, had died of the pox. No more would the little red-haired beauty read verse for the other children in that musical voice. Maggie frowned at the memory of the winter that had finally passed, a seemingly endless succession of gray, gloomy days and coal-black nights. Always they had hoped and prayed for sight of a ship, but the sea remained as gray and empty as the sky, giving them naught but cold and sorrow. Maggie thanked God for the simple pleasures that had got her through it all -- sitting before the fire in the evenings and talking with the Master and Eleanor, spinning at Eleanor’s wheel and her occasional play with Virginia.
They came out of the woods onto the cleared field, startling a flock of magpies that had settled down to peck at bugs and worms in the exposed earth. It had taken the men over a month of working mightily to clear the field of rocks and trees without the aid of oxen or horses and there had been much resistance to this work since all believed they would soon be going on to Chesapeake on ships when Governor White arrived. But Sir Robert Harvey, Master Dare, and the parson had insisted on putting in the crops anyway.
At the edge of the field Maggie caught sight of the blue of the sea between the scattered trees. She wondered if today would be the day Governor White’s ship would come in. The thought cheered her. A shouting started up as the men gathered into a knot around Sir Robert and Parson Lambert. Maggie saw Lionel among them, holding Humphrey’s hand. If the colony prospered, Lionel would do well, Maggie realized, for now Sir Robert had a great deal of affection for him.
“How did little Virginia pass the night?” said Elizabeth, breaking into Maggie’s thoughts.
Eleanor’s baby daughter had kept Maggie and the Dares awake till early morning with the loud cough issuing from her tiny frame. Maggie and Eleanor had applied a poultice of sage leaves to her chest and that seemed to have helped. Maggie fondly remembered holding the little girl as she finally drifted off to sleep. She thought vaguely of someday holding her own babe in her arms.
“Virginia is better,” she said, “thank God.”
Sir Robert waved and called for the people to gather round. Maggie thought about what the common people were saying, that Sir Robert and his wife were schismatics, practicing their Catholic faith in secret. Maggie doubted that. But she did think Sir Robert a fine gentleman, no matter what his faith. Along with Master Dare and Governor White, he was one of the exceptions, the other gentlemen being cold and unconcerned about the needs of their servants. Indeed, Elizabeth was treated very poorly by her Master, Sir James Duncan. Maggie had heard from others that Sir James beat her for no good reason when he was drunk. Elizabeth stubbornly denied it, but Paulina swore she had seen it.
Parson Lambert bowed his head and led the assemblage in the Lord’s Prayer. After he finished, a faceless man in the crowd shouted out, “‘Tis too soon to put in a crop.”
“Nay,” said Sir Robert, “the good savage, Manteo, has told us that his people have already planted their fields a fortnight ago.”
“I believe it not,” someone shouted. Again, a faceless man and several of the more brazen soldiers laughed derisively.
“That will be enough,” said Sir Robert. Maggie looked around. The men kept their tongues as the regal-looking Sir Robert scanned the faces of the crowd. Lately the soldiers had been forgetting their place.
“Now,” said Sir Robert, “let us get to work.”
The assemblage broke up and soon Maggie was bending at the waist, pushing seed corn into the soft earth of a furrow chopped up by a soldier with a hoe working just ahead of her. Elizabeth worked to Maggie’s right and Paulina to her left. They talked quietly as they moved along the rows and the morning passed quickly. Before Maggie knew it, Captain Stafford and a squad of his soldiers had arrived with the noon day meal. Two of his men carried a long pole with a big, blackened pot of loblolly suspended beneath it. As the people gathered round, Maggie thought warmly of the handsome savage, Manteo. Hopefully he had caught conies or squirrels and the meat had been added to make the gruel more interesting. She recalled looking into his eyes and almost swooning. Surely the tall mysterious Croatoan had been sent by God to help them through this wilderness.
Lionel Fisher watched hungrily as Captain Stafford supervised the serving of the gruel. The loblolly kept them alive. That was all. Parson Lambert had recently allowed to Lionel at his cottage, after quickly and cautiously glancing at the door to ensure that it was closed, that the mainland Roanokes now bridled at their treatment by Captain Stafford’s soldiers and would no longer trade corn and game to the colony for trinkets and truk. And so Sir Robert, Ananias and the other gentlemen wanted to return to Croatoan to trade. But the captain and the Devon gentlemen were against it. Lionel tried to remember what the Croatoan woman had looked like, but could
not. But he remembered her warmth and he remembered his desire for her.
Lionel carried two bowls and held Humphrey by the hand. They waited in line with the others. When his turn came, Lionel gave the bowls to the soldier dispensing the gruel. The man put a beggarly dollop in each.
“Can you not give us more, man?” said Lionel. “That is not enough for him.”
“He does no work,” snarled the soldier, “so he needs no more’n that.”
Lionel’s face flushed red. He said nothing but he refused to move on.
“Move along,” said the soldier, “before I have yeh moved.”
Sir Robert came over. “Lionel Fisher does more than enough work for the two of them,” he said. “Now give him plenty for we have plenty.”
“Aye, sir,” said the soldier.
Despite the soldier’s compliance, Lionel saw the hatred in his eyes. Many of the soldiers were louts, some of them little better than knaves and highwaymen, and they all needed more discipline than they were getting from Captain Stafford. And Lionel wasn’t the only one with that opinion, for he had heard Master Harvey say as much at table the other night.
After the loblolly was dispensed, Maggie sat in the shade of the pines with Elizabeth, Paulina, and Anne. They ate their porridge from wooden bowls, occasionally turning to stare at the waters of the sound. The talk naturally drifted to Governor White back in England. The warmth of spring had convinced everyone ships would soon arrive, and Maggie listened hopefully to the other women’s talk. She missed the governor’s kindnesses and sometimes she fancied that she should have gone back with him, but she knew that that would have been imprudent. Maggie was shocked to see Paulina lift the back of Elizabeth’s blouse and try to see beneath it.
Elizabeth turned round and slapped her hand.
“Show them yer bruises,” said Paulina.
“Nay,” said Elizabeth, adding nothing further.
Maggie had never known Elizabeth to shun talking about any subject. “Did you get hurt?” she asked.
Elizabeth shook her head as she spooned corn gruel into her mouth.
Maggie turned to Paulina. “What has happened?”
“Her master beat her last night.”
Maggie looked at her friend sadly. “Is it true?”
Elizabeth ignored her and continued to eat.
They fell silent for a time. A half-dozen soldiers walked by, one of them smiling over.
“There’s Paulina’s Captain of Horse,” said Anne to the others.
“But where are his horses?” said Elizabeth, smiling as she mockingly searched the area.
The others laughed.
“In Munster he served with a company of horse,” Paulina explained to Maggie and the others.
“Poor man,” said Anne mischievously, “what has he to ride here?”
“I hear tell he has found a nag,” said Elizabeth.
Paulina turned to her in mock anger. “At least he be capable of a good gallop, not like that old dray horse you’ve hitched up to. What is he called, Too-Ol’-For-It Jack? How old do he be, anyway?”
Maggie smiled as she listened to their talk, adding nothing. She enjoyed these women and their bawdy jokes, but she had already decided to begin elevating her thoughts and language. More gentlemen would be coming to Raleigh’s Virginia plantation and they would want women suited to their station. The other women took notice of Maggie’s silence, and slowly their talk grew serious. They discussed the savages in the surrounding territories.
“One of the soldiers said we need not fear Powhatan,” said Paulina. “They say he is eager to have English muskets, and that he is courting us to get them.”
“Hah!” challenged Elizabeth. “The day they give him muskets is the day I’ll head for the hills. Know you how afraid of him the other savages are?”
“And with good reason,” chimed in Anne. “They say that Powhatan has conquered another village and is expanding his empire.”
Elizabeth turned to Maggie. “Isn’t that right, Maggie? Tell her what Manteo has said about that devil, Powhatan.”
Maggie was about to speak when movement on the sound caught her eye. Elizabeth followed her eye.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Elizabeth hissed, getting to her feet. “A ship!”
Maggie saw a small vessel, much like their own shallop, which was presently tied up out of sight on the other side of the island, moving up the sound. This craft was still too far away to identify.
Sir Robert, Lionel, and Captain Stafford and some soldiers came running over.
Maggie went up to Lionel. “A sail!”
“Ours?” Lionel asked hopefully.
Before Maggie realized the implication of his question, she noticed Elizabeth pushing through the bushes. Elizabeth raised her pale blue shawl and waved it at the approaching vessel.
“Everyone! Get down,” Captain Stafford ordered gruffly, motioning them all to the ground. They quickly crouched down upon their haunches. Only Elizabeth remained standing, oblivious to those behind her as she waved her shawl. Captain Stafford crept up behind her and clamped his hand over her mouth, dragging her backward and down to her knees. Elizabeth whimpered and struggled uselessly.
“Fat cow!” hissed Stafford. “Shut up. Do yeh want to get us all killed?”
Elizabeth stopped her struggling and looked around. Her eyes were wide with fear as Captain Stafford continued to hold her tightly.
With her head down, Maggie could not see much. She heard the wind moving through the tops of the trees as they awaited the approach of the boat.
“They be Spaniards!” said Captain Stafford.
“How did they know we were here?” said the big soldier named Goliath.
“They may not know,” said Captain Stafford. “They may have found the channel opening on their own.
“But they be searching!” Goliath added.
“They be searching, aye,” said Captain Stafford, “but not for us. They be sailors mapping the coast for their officers.” He looked angrily at Elizabeth. “However… ”
“What?” said Goliath.
“Remember when we watered on Santa Cruz Island,” said Captain Stafford, “and several of our serving men ran away?”
“Ahh!” said Goliath. “May be they talked.”
Maggie raised her head slightly. She saw the little boat sailing closer. Three of the men appeared to be Spanish soldiers. They were armed with swords and one held a musket. A fourth man stood in the bow of the craft. A savage, he had a bow slung over his shoulder and his bare foot propped up on the gunnels. He was pointing in their direction as he spoke to the others. The Spanish soldiers scanned the shore suspiciously.
“Do yeh think they have seen us?” asked Goliath.
“Nay,” said Captain Stafford softly, “in spite of this one’s invitation.”
Maggie saw the captain’s muscles bulge as he rocked Elizabeth’s head. She felt sorry for her friend who was whimpering in pain, imploring the others with her eyes.
Captain Stafford switched hands and pulled his sword. The other soldiers pulled their swords. “Hawkins!” Captain Stafford called.
Young Lieutenant Hawkins, his thick yellow hair matted like straw, crawled up beside Captain Stafford. Captain Stafford spoke softly. “Take a squad of yer best musket men and hide in yonder trees. If they make ready to anchor, let them. Then attack their shallop on my signal.”
“Aye,” said Hawkins, crawling off.
“Goliath,” Captain Stafford called.
The big soldier raised his head. “Captain?”
“If they set foot on this here island we must kill them all. Not a one is to make it back into that boat. Do yeh understand?”
“Aye,” came the muttered reply. Goliath crawled off in the opposite direction.
Maggie thought she could hear the voices of the Spaniards. Still lying low, she looked out onto the sound. The boat was very near. She felt a chill as the savage’s eyes swept past her.
“Damn them!” Staff
ord said softly. “They be landing!”
Maggie lowered her head close to the ground. She heard Captain Stafford and his men whispering, heard them move off. She did not look up. She dared not move. A musket erupted suddenly, then another. Shouts and screams filled the forest. Maggie got to her knees. The savage she had seen on the Spanish boat was running right toward her. Panic immobilized her. Just as he was almost upon her another figure crashed into him, knocking him sprawling on the ground. Captain Stafford stood over the savage, sword in hand. The savage raised himself on his elbow. His eyes were wide with fear. He had no sword nor bow and blood pulsed from a bad gash in his side. “Espere!” he said in a hoarse whisper to Stafford. “Espere!”
The clang of swords erupted behind Maggie. Men cursed and shouted. Someone screamed and she saw Stafford raise his sword over his head. She covered her eyes with her hands as a crazed rush of horrifying images filled her head. She felt herself pulled back to another horror, another time. She was a child inside a great stone hall with many female voices echoing off the walls. The voices pleaded, full of terror and pain as screams and the crashes of iron pots and pottery rent the air. The giant figure of a young man loomed suddenly before her and she scuttled backward out of sight under a table. Something smashed to the floor and a terrifying male voice roared with laughter. Another male voice cried out, its timbre and pathos hurting her beyond physical pain. “Not in front of the girl!” the strangely familiar voice insisted, “for God’s sake, not… ” The sword came down.
Someone shook Maggie. Paulina helped her to her feet. “Maggie, are you well?”
Maggie opened her eyes. The savage lay dead not five feet away from her, one of his eyes looking right at her, the other staring up at the sky. Goliath stood beside Captain Stafford. Both men were breathing heavily.
“What shall we do with their boat?” asked Goliath.
“Sail it around to the leeward side,” said the captain, “quickly.”
“Maggie,” said Paulina, “come along.”
“I feel faint,” said Maggie, remaining where she was.
