A Roll of the Bones

by Trudy J. Morgan-Cole

  Nancy was congratulating herself on her lucky escape when Ned swept past her. She had seen him earlier dancing with Jennet, but now he had Philip Guy’s son James, a sturdy little lad of about eight years, by the hands, and was whirling him about in a kind of jig till the child was nearly helpless with laughter. When the tune changed, Ned handed the boy over to his mother and collapsed onto the bench beside Nancy. “Come on now, dance with me.”

  “Marry, I think you’re better suited to playing the clown to amuse the children—you’ve a gift for that. And did you not just see me turn down a perfectly good offer?”

  “That wasn’t a perfectly good offer; that was George Whittington. He’s a conceited coxcomb, whereas I—”

  “Yes? You are what?”

  “An old friend. You’d not deny an old friend, would you?”

  “I would. I’d rather sit out and not dance at all.”

  “But you can’t do that, Nancy. Look around—three men for every woman. You’re going to have to dance sooner or later, and you may as well dance with someone you can trust not to tread on your toes.” He took her hand and she let herself be drawn to her feet. “We’ve danced before, after all. Remember Twelfth Night feasts, and Midsummer nights, back home in Bristol, when all the household danced together?”

  Nancy followed him into the line, where a set of couples was being formed up for the next tune. All the women were on their feet with partners now. As she and Ned joined the line, Nancy felt keenly the truth behind his words: every woman here was going to be claimed, sooner or later. There was John Teague with Liza, and George Lane leading Jennet; even the sturdy and taciturn Maggie was dancing with one of the new apprentices. All this pairing off was for the good of the colony. The masters might respect a maiden’s right to choose her partner, but no one would have much time for a woman who chose none at all.

  Well-a-day. Letting herself get dragged into a dance was one thing. The fiddler played, and Nancy followed the steps, turning about and about as she moved up the line, catching hands with one man and then another. There was Nicholas Guy, smiling at her; there was George Whittington with a smirk. Matt Grigg scarcely noticed her as their hands met and they flew round each other, his thoughts occupied with his new bride. She darted in and out of the line past the other women, then met Ned again at the top and let him claim her hand as they tripped back down between the line of dancers.

  The dancing went on for an hour or more; she danced twice more with Ned, and a few times with other fellows. Kathryn danced with her husband, but also, Nancy noticed, at least twice with the nobleman’s son, Thomas Willoughby. When she did get Kathryn alone again, Nancy planned to have a good long chat with her about that young fellow.

  Then there was the evening meal and a ration of brandy for everyone along with some vile-tasting berry wine Sally Butler had brewed. As dusk fell, the party broke up. Those who lived in the main dwelling-house prepared for bed, while the rest made their way back to the other two houses. Nancy, who had stayed behind to help Nell and Maggie with cleaning up the mess from supper, stepped outside alone into the crisp cool of the evening.

  Alone, she thought, trying out the taste and feel of the word. The walk from the main dwelling-house to the one where she lived was short, but how rare to have even a few minutes by herself. The dying light was shot through with gold and orange, and her shadow was long and black on the stony path. Around her, voices called good night as she walked past the garden and the goat pen. On the horizon over the dark line of forest, the sky had already begun to darken, and a single bright star appeared low over the trees. Nancy kept her eyes on her feet, as it was always necessary to do here, to avoid stumbling on rocks or tree roots. She did not notice the second shadow that joined hers till she heard Ned say, “I’m walking you home, if you had not noticed.”

  “As we live in the same house, I can hardly stop you.”

  “You’re contrary tonight. Did the dance put you in a foul mood, or that berry wine?”

  “What does it matter? The mood is here, and you’d do well to hasten along in silence before you get stung by it.”

  “I’ll take my chances. I’ve borne the sting of your tongue before.”

  He caught up and took her arm. She shrugged it away from him. “Ned, I’m not good company tonight, and I need no protection.”

  “The very time you want to be alone is when you most need a companion.”

  “In truth?” She stopped on the path, looked him full in the face for the first time since he’d caught up to her. “Who told you that nonsense?”

  “My mother used to say it to me when I was a child.” He stopped walking, too, and they stood on the path, facing each other. Around them, the voices quieted as people went into the dwelling-houses and Cupids Cove settled itself for the night. Their house was furthest from the main dwelling, tucked just inside the palisade fence and close to the dark woods beyond. “I never thanked you, by the by, for going to see my parents. ’Twas kind of you.”

  She had gone to visit them the week before she left Bristol, telling them that she, too, was going out to the New World, and that she would carry messages to him. Ned’s father had gone to the curate to get him to write a letter. His mother had told Nancy all the family news: which of his brothers and sisters had married, and to whom; how many babies they had had. She had repeated the names of these nieces and nephews Ned would never see, trusting Nancy to carry them across the ocean.

  Thinking now of Ned’s mother’s face, longing for news of her faraway son, Nancy no longer had the spite to be angry at him. “I was glad to do it,” she said simply. “If you get Master Guy, or Mistress Kathryn, to write a letter for you and send it on a Bristol ship, they’ll be very glad to have news of you. Your mother misses you greatly.”

  “And I miss her.”

  “I miss everything,” Nancy said. “And I never even had my own family, as you did. The dearest person I had in Bristol was Kathryn, and she is here with me—but I miss Aunt Tib, and Master and Mistress Gale, and the children. I miss the hall and the hearth, and St. Stephen’s and the sound of church bells; all of it.” Her voice caught a little on the last words, and she bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could bear to keep from crying. She silently begged Ned not to tell her how beautiful Cupids Cove was, how she would soon fall in love with this New Found Land.

  Instead, he took her hands in his. “’Tis not so bleak if you form a new bond to replace the old ones.”

  She snatched her hands back. “Ned, please, no.”

  “Nancy,” he paused, and when she did not protest any further he took that for permission. “We have witnessed three weddings today. There will be more before winter. You know the truth of it, what I said when we were dancing. Every single man here wants a wife, and every woman will be claimed, sooner or later.”

  “And you think—what? That I might as well throw in my lot with you?” She tried to keep bitterness out of her tone, but she could see from the wrinkling of his brow that she had hurt him. I warned you about the sting of my tongue, she thought.

  “Is that so unwelcome to you? Is there someone else you fancy?”

  “No!” She turned away, picked up her skirt in one hand, and began striding up the path as quickly as she could, leaving him to scramble behind her. No, there is someone else you fancy. The memory of the night after Kathryn’s betrothal, the desire for their mistress that she had seen in his eyes then, lingered clear in her mind, three years later and half a world away. She had watched him watching Kathryn since they had arrived in the colony. She was sure Ned still desired her. Nancy would never be more than a cast-off, second-hand garment for him, a poor substitute for the woman he could never have. His offer of marriage was an insult, from one she had always thought of as a friend.

  The sun had fully set behind the trees now, and the sky was a rich blue shading almost to purple as one star after another appeared. Between now and moonrise it would be hard to find one’s way around the crisscrossing paths.
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  “Then why run away before I can even ask?” Ned persisted.

  She stopped, stilled her breathing, tried to calm her temper. “You said it yourself; we are old friends. Do not force me to say anything cruel to you.”

  She could barely see him in the fading light; she turned more towards the sound of his voice and the warmth of another human body nearby.

  “What cause is there for cruelty? The colony needs families to people the land. For all your mocking at me, you and I get on well. At least, we always have till now.”

  “I won’t marry you.” She would have cut out her own tongue before telling him the true reason. Instead she said a different thing, that was also true. “I’ve no wish to marry at all.”

  “But you must.”

  “I’ve no wish to marry just because John Guy needs folk to breed like cattle, to people his new land.” She turned away from Ned, leaving him once again to scramble behind her on the dark path. In the distance she heard voices, one female and one male. Laughter. A rushlight bobbed up the path. It must be Bess, coming back even later than Nancy, with someone walking her home. Someone who, unlike herself and Ned, had the sense to bring a light. “Must every woman here be married and breeding a baby before this year is out? If you think so little of me as that, I’d as lief be wed to a fool like George Whittington!”

  “And here he comes, pat on his cue,” Ned said, looking back on the path. They could see the outline now: a man with a girl on one arm and the rushlight held aloft in the other. Now there was a man’s voice from the other direction; Nicholas Guy, coming from his house, looking for his serving maids.

  “Nancy! Bess! Are you out there?”

  Ned called back. “I’m here with Nancy, sir, and George is coming behind us with Bess. We’re all safely home.” Then he lowered his voice and put his face close to Nancy’s ear. “You must understand—” he began.

  She hushed him with a gesture. “I understand enough. Still friends, only. Let us not speak of this again. Agree?”

  He hesitated a moment, long enough that George and Bess were almost upon them. Then, “Still friends,” he whispered.

  “What’s this, then? Dallying in the moonlight?” George Whittington laughed as he came upon them.

  “The moon’s not up yet, you dolt, unless you can see something the rest of us can’t,” Ned said. “The master’s waiting to bar the door, so let us make haste.”

  “I was promised a goodnight kiss,” Whittington protested. “And Ned, if you’ll not claim one from Nancy, I’ll take hers too!”

  “Now then, Whittington.” Nicholas Guy had come down the path, also carrying a light. “We have had a bit of a holiday, and much merriment, but we’ll have no loose talk. These young women are under my protection, and I hope soon to see them as well married as those who were wed today. Come in, all of you, and go to your beds.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Indeavour is Launched

  What aim you at in your Plantation?

  Sought you the Honour of our Nation?

  Or did you hope to raise your own renown?

  Or else to add a Kingdom to a Crown?

  Or Christ’s true Doctrine for to propagate?

  Or draw Savages to a blessed state?

  CUPIDS COVE AND TRINITY BAY

  OCTOBER-NOVEMBER 1612

  NED TUMBLEDIN TO HIS BED NEXT TO WHITTINGTON AND hoped the other man was already asleep. But no such luck; he began to talk in his piercing whisper. “God’s teeth, what a pleasure to have pretty maids around again! I had my eye on Molly, but now she’s wed I don’t mind Bess. One’s the same as the other—and have you seen the bubbies on her?”

  “Hush, man! The women are only down below.”

  “I care not if she hears me—I’ll not be long dropping my anchor in that harbour. What of you and Nan? You were having a fine cozy moment before we barged in on you.”

  “Shut up and go to sleep.”

  “Oh-ho, not so cozy at all, then. ’Twas you told me yourself Nancy was a spitfire. If you know her of old, you should have known what you were in for.”

  Ned said nothing; Whittington laughed and settled himself to sleep. But Ned lay awake, playing over the evening in his mind, wondering how it could all have gone so spectacularly wrong. When he ate with her at dinner, when he pulled her into the dance and she spun round the floor with him, he’d thought for certain matters were going his way. Marriage would be a sensible choice for them both. And if his thoughts, when he took her hand and skipped through the steps of the dance with her, were not entirely sensible ones — well, he could be romantic for both of them. If he had to win her hand first and then her heart, that was not the worst way to go about the business of marriage.

  Then she had flung his offer back in his face like she was flinging a pail of dishwater out the door. What a ham-fisted fool he’d been not to take more care! If he had not rushed into a proposal, she might have had time to realize that his feelings for her were true, and not merely a matter of convenience. “Damn me for a fool,” he said aloud, then tensed, fearing Whittington had heard. But all around him were the sounds of men snoring.

  In the morning he sought out John Guy. The governor was down at the wharf overseeing the loading of supplies onto the barque, and Ned had to wait a few minutes to catch his eye.

  “What is it…Perry?” Two years into life in the colony, the governor often still had that moment of hesitation before calling Ned, or most of the other workingmen, by name.

  “Is there room for another man on board the Indeavour, sir? I know ’tis short notice.”

  The governor frowned. “Last night, I would have said our crew was full, but just this morning Thomas Cowper woke complaining of his stomach, and I trust not he will be well enough to make the voyage. I can use another man, if you be willing.”

  “I am, sir.”

  “Good enough. I had thought to leave today, but it looks as if ‘twill be to-morrow at least, so you will have time to pack up your gear.”

  And time to say good-bye to Nancy, Ned thought. He would be clever, this time. He’d not get tangled up in his words.

  But she proved hard to catch alone. It was a busy day, the twenty men going on the voyage preparing to leave and everyone else preparing to get along without them. Nancy was working in the dwelling-house with Mistress Kathryn and the other maids. Nicholas Guy and several of the men in the household were going on the voyage, though the two new bridegrooms, Matt Grigg and Tom Taylor, were staying behind with their wives.

  Mid-afternoon Fortune favoured him: he found Nancy with some of the other women a little distance from the settlement, picking the last of the red berries that grew on low bushes in the marshy ground. He waited till Nancy was bent at her work, a distance away from the others, then moved closer. “I wanted to say—”

  “Lord, Ned, you startled me! Don’t be sneaking up on me like that!”

  She sounded exactly as usual, only peevish in that way she had, that somehow twisted his heart. “Forgive me,” he said. “Not just for startling you. I am sorry if—”

  “Don’t start with your foolishness from last night. Say it was the brandy that loosened your tongue.”

  “But I—”

  “You were right about one thing: we have been friends, and I’m not so blessed with friends that I can afford to turn one away. So let’s have no more foolishness now, all right?”

  “Look, I only wanted to tell you that I’m going on the Indeavour to-morrow.”

  “You? You’ll be heaving your guts over the side before you’re out of the harbour.”

  “Don’t be harsh with me. I could drown, or be killed by the Indians. Then you’d be sorry.”

  “Well-a-day, then don’t get yourself killed.”

  “All I wanted to tell you was—”

  “You are determined to say this, despite every warning, aren’t you?” She rocked back onto her heels and looked at him.

  “Only that I meant what I said last night, but I went ab
out it all the wrong way. I’d take it kindly if you’d not agree to marry anyone else until I come back. Is that too much to ask?”

  Nancy brushed sweat from her forehead with her arm. “Do you have some fool notion that going off on the Indeavour will prove what a brave man you are, and then you’ll come back and pose the question again? For I’ll tell you now, you’re already a brave enough man, and my answer will be no different if you go sail around the coast or even if you meet a dozen wild men in the forest.”

  “Nor even if one of them puts an arrow through me, and I survive my deadly wound only to come back and declare my love for you?” He had not meant to jest about it, but when she was in this mood it was impossible for him not to play along with her.

  “Not if you were as full of arrows as a pincushion is of pins!” She laughed. “Less talk of love, please. I’ll not wed anyone while you are away—nor after you come back, neither. Will that content you?”

  “’Twill have to,” Ned said, nipping a few berries from her pail and popping them into his mouth. He did his best to walk away with a light step, whistling, so that she wouldn’t guess how her second refusal stung his pride.

  The next morning she was there along with all the others, gathered on the wharf as the men boarded the Indeavour and the smaller shallop that was to accompany it. Ned was glad that, having thrown his lot in with the expedition, he’d happened to replace a man who was to sail on the barque, for the men in the shallop had much the harder voyage ahead of them. The larger ship could better ride out the waves, and at least there was a deck to sleep on. Ned said his goodbyes, wishing he could take Nancy into his arms as he’d done the day she arrived. How quickly he had let that embrace go by! Now she gave him only a friendly hand in farewell and bade him to be safe.

  At least he was not likely to die of seasickness. The barque sailed close to the shores of Conception Bay, so that the swell of the waves troubled his stomach little, and he acquired his sea legs quickly. And shipboard life, despite its regular tasks, felt like something of a holiday after the busy season they had just put in on shore. The October weather continued clear and fine, though it was colder out here at sea. They spent several nights at Harbour Grace, where the fortifications Easton’s pirates had built earlier in the summer were now abandoned. Then they pushed on past Baccalieu Island and around the headland called The Grates, where they turned southwards, down into the big bay the fishermen knew as Trinity Bay.