Bloodroot E-Book

Daniel V. Meier Jr.

• Herausgeber: BQB Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

The beauty and the horrors of Jamestown 2609

A gripping account of survival in America's earliest settlement, Jamestown, Virginia.

Virginia, 1622.

Powhatan warriors prepare war paint from the sacred juice of the bloodroot plant, but Nehiegh, The English son-in-law of Chief Ochawintan has sworn never to kill again. He must leave before the massacre.

England 1609.

Matthew did not trust his friend, Richard's stories of Paradise in the Jamestown settlement, but nothing could have equipped him for the violence and privation that awaited him in this savage land.

Once ashore in the fledging settlement, Matthew experiences the unimaginable beauty of this pristine land and learns the meaning of hope, but it all turns into a nightmare as gold mania infests the community and Indians become an increasing threat. The nightmare only gets worse as the harsh winter brings on "the starving time" and all the grizzly horrors of a desperate and dying community that come with it.

Driven to the depths of despair by the guilt of his sins against Richard and his lust for that man's wife, Matthew seeks death.

In that moment of crisis, when he chooses death over a life of depravity, he unexpectedly finds new life among his sworn enemy, the Powhatan Indians.

What will this new life mean for Matthew, and will he survive?

Leseprobe

Bloodroot

© 2021 Daniel V. Meier, Jr. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying, or recording, except for the inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published in the United States by BQB Publishing

(an imprint of Boutique of Quality Books Publishing, Inc.)

www.bqbpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

978-1-952782-04-6 (p)

978-1-952782-05-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number 2021937624

Book design: Robin Krauss, www.bookformatters.com

Cover design: Rebecca Lown, www.rebeccalowndesign.com

First editor: Caleb Guard

Second editor: Andrea Vande Vorde

Map Illustrations: Rosana Kelcher

Praise for Bloodroot and Daniel V. Meier, Jr.

“By turns heartbreaking and fascinating…. A raw, powerful story.

Meier returns with a stunning story about a man caught in the grip of treachery, passion, and the inescapable flow of history. England 1609. After a minor scuffle with his master, the young Matthew, an apprentice carpenter, finds himself running away from the law, joining his best friend Richard on an excursion to the early British settlement of Jamestown, Virginia. But what begins as a journey to a promising land soon turns into a nightmare of impossible proportions with hunger and savagery testing the limits of humanity. With lust for Richard’s wife, Anne, Matthew soon embarks on a path of sin and treachery. But guilt soon takes over, and living becomes a burden.

Meier’s eye for detail is immaculate, whether it is the evocation of the rugged, unforgivable landscape of Virginia or the portrayal of the grizzly horrors of a desperate and dying community. He ably interweaves scenes of settlers’ everyday life along with the fantastical world of the native American culture and their legends and beliefs into the affecting narrative.

The characters are universally human in their emotion, be it honest, morally upright Richard or troubled Anne. Matthew is a triumph; he has loose morals and integrity is not something he values much, but Meier depicts him with humanity and compassion, making him thoroughly humane.

The narrative moves at a swift pace, building to shocking revelations as fate intertwines and Matthew eventually finds meaning in life. Meier’s skillful manipulation of interlocking plot strands, keen insight, and entertaining storytelling make it a page-turner.”

– The Prairies Book Review

“I thoroughly enjoyed yet another book by Daniel V. Meier. In Bloodroot, he returns to a familiar theme—the goodness and the brutality of man. Set in the early days of the Jamestown settlement in Virginia, when Matthew and his friend Richard arrive after a dangerous sea journey, they have very different goals. Richard’s unfailing belief in the goodness of man does not serve him well in the new rough colony which is run by fear and force. His character is well-drawn and while realizing he is naive in his beliefs, the reader is drawn to him. Matthew’s approach is more alert to the brutality of the adventurers, but at heart, he is a kind, fair, and just character.

The conditions of the settlement are so clearly drawn, and take you back four hundred years to suffer, cheer, and weep with the folk in Jamestown. The deprivations during the long, hard winter will make you shiver. The author’s descriptions of the ways people fought to stay alive will haunt me for days. The tenacity to cling to life is brilliantly depicted in this story of greed, pride, and superiority so unwisely let loose. In retrospect, it’s a miracle anyone survived and thrived. Highly recommended.”

– Lucinda E. Clarke for Reader’s Favorite

Table of Contents

Chapter 1July 1609

Chapter 2Jamestown

Chapter 3A New Reality

Chapter 4The Lexicon

Chapter 5Talk Fairly and Trade Honestly

Chapter 6Proposal of Marriage

Chapter 7The Falls

Chapter 8Monacans

Chapter 9Fool’s Gold

Chapter 10Friendly Fire

Chapter 11Captain Smith

Chapter 12Convalescence

Chapter 13Thank God For An Honest Man

Chapter 14Dissension

Chapter 15Sound The Alarm

Chapter 16Holy Wedlock

Chapter 17The Demise of Decorum

Chapter 18Betrayal

Chapter 19The Well Has Run Dry

Chapter 20The Starving Time

Chapter 21Deliverance

Chapter 22A Cruel Act of Fate

Chapter 23Winter 1613

Chapter 24New Life

Chapter 25Bloodroot

Epilogue

Glossary

About the Author

Map Illustrator: Rosana Keleher

This book is dedicated to Elizabeth.

Acknowledgment

Caleb Guard, my editor, for his professionalism and assistance. Teeja Meier for her faith, patience, endurance, suggestions, hard work, and love.

CHAPTER 1

July 1609

I had fought this time more bitterly than before with my master of Exeter. He struck me once too often with his whip and, being a young man of almost twenty years, I was seized with a blind rage. I jerked the whip out of his hand, wrapped it around his shriveled neck, and started to haul him up on one of the crossbeams of his shop, but his choking and gagging brought my senses back, and I let him fall to the floor where he cursed me and swore that he would have me thrown in prison that very hour. My rage returned, and I kicked him until he lay unconscious at my feet like a heap of dirty rags.

I left his shop and the city of Exeter without stopping to gather my few belongings, and started out for the city of Plymouth where I had a friend who would shelter me until I could find new employment.

It was well after dark when I arrived in Plymouth and found my friend, Richard, busy packing his chests. He seemed extremely pleased, not just at my arrival but in what he called his “future prospect” in Virginia.

“How wonderful, how prophetic, that you have arrived at this hour! God himself must have guided you, my friend. I tell you truly, Matthew. It is a new promised land, a new Canaan,” he said to me while packing away his books in a smaller chest. “We are the ones chosen to leave this vile and sinful land. Virginia will be our new Paradise, where men can live the way their Creator intended: in goodness and charity.”

I had always known Richard to be a dreamer, but this, going to a wilderness like Virginia? I wondered if he had not lost his senses from too much reading and studying.

“I have heard of this place called Virginia, Richard, and I have heard that it is inhabited by naked savages who think nothing of bashing a man’s brains out or of eating their own people. And I have heard that this place is often as cold as it is here in England and as hot as it is in Spain, and that the air is filled with many sicknesses.”

“Rumors, gossip, exaggerations!” Richard said, pulling a pamphlet out of his book chest and thrusting it at me. “Read this,” he said, excited. “It was written by one of the London Company’s own members who has himself been to Virginia many times.”

I read through the pamphlet and returned it to him.

“It truly does sound like Paradise, Richard, but perhaps it sounds too good.”

“But it was written and published with the consent of the London Company. What reason would they have to lie about it? What profit would there be? Surely, they would be found out if they were not telling the truth.”

“I admit that what you say makes sense, but I don’t want to leave England. I am not the scholar that you are. Vice and corruption do not offend me the way they do you.”

“Then think of it this way. You are in need of employment. You have broken the terms of your apprenticeship by running away. You have assaulted your master. Good God, Matthew, you could go to prison for many years. And if you survive that, what would you do?”

His reasoning was sound. The very thought of prison stunned me into silence, and as long as I remained in England, my old master, Dorn, would not rest until he saw me behind bars. I was swept by a feeling of danger. I realized then how important my freedom was to me and how precious was my life. Few survive more than three years in the King’s prison.

“Come with me, Matthew. Virginia will be our new kingdom. It will be our chance to begin the world over again, the way it should be, a place full of love and happiness. As for the savages, they are only children in a Garden of Eden, waiting for the light of Christianity. You see, Matthew,” he moved closer to my face, his breathing short, his eyes dancing with excitement, “this is our opportunity to do what is right.”

I turned away, hoping the gesture would calm his passion.

“Do you have any ale?” I asked.

He stood up at once, erect as if I had slapped him across the face.

“I do not need ale now, Matthew. I have discovered that God’s own purest water is enough for me. My only interest now is in food and drink for the spirit.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, Richard, I would like a tankard of good ale and some food for my body.”

“I have some bread and sausage newly purchased today.”

“Thank you, my friend, but I would like to find a tavern and think on what you have proposed.”

The tavern was crowded with men like myself, on the move, without prospects, men on the watch for opportunity. I spotted a sailor seated with several other men at a corner table. The sailor was using tobacco, as were most of the men in the place, but he was smoking it in an unusual pipe, a short thing made out of dark clay, brightly painted and with a large bird’s feather fixed at the end.

I went over to them and asked if I could join their table. The sailor wanted to know for what purpose, and I explained that I was thinking of planting in Virginia and that from the look of his pipe, he was a man who might be acquainted with those parts. He laughed aloud, and I could see in the dim light of the candles that he had only a few teeth, and those were stained and crooked, and that his left eye was as white as marble.

The other two men looked at me suspiciously.

“Aye, lad, sit down,” the sailor shouted. He slapped the bench next to him with a gnarled hand. “I will tell you all you wish to know about that heathen land, but me throat be hot and wishes to be cooled by the sweet elixir of this fine tavern’s ale.”

I waved for the barmaid and ordered four tankards, a deed which would considerably reduce my finances.

“Now,” the sailor said, leaning back against the tavern’s wall and drawing smoke from his pipe. “Why would a lad such as yourself, a young gentleman, if I’m any judge of men, wish to go to such a place?”

“I am a carpenter, sir,” I said, trying to appear older than my years, “and work is not easy to find in England these days. I have heard that certain worthy gentlemen of these parts have set out to build a town in that land and would most likely have need of a man of my trade.”

The sailor nodded, and then, seeing the barmaid coming with both of her arms full of tankards, smiled happily. Almost as soon as our maid had sat the tankard before him, he buried his face in it for a long time. The other two men followed his example. I watched their Adam’s apples work in unison as they gulped down the ale.

“Aye, yes,” the sailor said, finally setting his drink before him and wiping the foam from his beard with the back of his hand. “They do have need of men with your skill in Virginia. They have need of every man they can get.”

The sailor laughed heartily and so did the other two men.

“And God knows,” he continued, “there is timber enough to build not only a town but a hundred cities the size of London. There is hardly a square yard where a good-sized tree does not grow. But for every man cutting a tree there be four and sometimes six to guard him against the bloody, throat-cutting savages. And often that is not enough, for there must be a hundred savages to every one Englishman. Nay, I say even a thousand savages to one of our men. What is wanting in Virginia is an English army, and not the merchants and gentlemen who are presently there. By God, as much as I despise those popish swine of Spain, I’ll say one thing good for them, they know how to plant a colony. None of this cowardly, weak-bellied, hands-off policy toward the savages for them.”

The sailor leaned closer to me. “If you want to find your fortune in Virginia, my lad, first learn to fight.”

“But that is true enough for any man,” said one of the other men.

“Aye, it’s true enough, but in Virginia it is always your life you’re fighting for. There is scarce any law even among our own men and none among the savages, save the hatchet and the arrow. But for a man who can use a sword and a musket, Virginia is a vast, rich land waiting to be claimed. You could be a king, my lad.”

“Or at least a lord,” the other man said.

They all laughed good-naturedly, not meaning to offend.

“Sir,” said I to the sailor, “you are certainly a fighting man yourself. Why have you not claimed your share of this new land?”

He laughed again, spitting some ale on his beard.

“True enough. I’ve done my share of fighting, but it was never for myself. It was always some quarrel between princes, and you see how I am rewarded.” He pointed to his dead eye. “Fighting is for young men such as yourself. We old men stand aside and pick at the spoils and tell everyone how glorious it all was when it is over.”

“Will your ship be taking the planters to Virginia?” I asked.

“Aye, that she will. Diamond is her name, and a good ship she is too, the luckiest ship that I ever served on. But I will not be aboard her. The sea has taken her toll of me. I am off to my little cottage in old North Devon, there to live happily among my sheep and cows and look out upon the sea from my window.”

There was much laughter at the sailor’s table after this. I ordered ale to be brought to our table until I had spent my last shilling. I listened with more than common interest as the sailor told stories of the foreign lands he had seen and the many strange wonders in these far-off places. But my thoughts were on Virginia, which during the course of the evening, began to be more favorable than the punishment and starvation that were sure to be mine if I remained in England.

In the early hours of the morning, I took my leave of the sailor and his friends with much good cheer and happy farewells and walked, half-dazed with ale and thoughts of Virginia, back to Richard’s room. I woke him from a sound sleep and said that I would go with him and that he must arrange passage for me.

He wanted to know how much money I had, and I confessed that it was all in the hands of the tavern keeper. Richard opened the chest where he had packed his clothes, dug out his purse and checked its contents.

“There is just enough for passage for us both,” he said triumphantly.

“Richard, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry yourself, Matthew. We will not need money in Virginia. Come,” he said, pulling on his shirt and britches. “I am sick of the waiting. The Diamond is at the dock now and will be sailing not many hours from now. Help me with my chests, Matthew. We will be the first on the wharf, and I will arrange passage for you with the Captain.”

I had never before seen Richard in such a haste. We placed his book chest on top of his clothes chest and together we bore them, with much effort, through the streets of Plymouth to the dock where our ship was still secured. Richard was correct. So far as I could determine, we were the only passengers yet to arrive. There were a few drunken sailors lying around the wharf, some sleeping, some yelling at phantoms in the night. I waited, sitting on a low group of pilings, while Richard went aboard the ship to speak with the Captain.

Except for the few shouting sailors, it was a strangely quiet night. The ship, with her fresh burden of supplies, rode in the still water like a majestic swan, asleep. The city of Plymouth seemed devoid of its human inhabitants and as empty and useless as a beach with no shells. The many scents of spring filled the air, and even dulled the occasional wave of putrefied stench from the harbor.

I lost myself in the sound of the water lapping up against the pilings and, for a terrible few moments, felt the old fears that I had known in childhood filling my breast. The fear that one morning I would wake up and find all those I knew gone, dead perhaps, leaving me completely alone. It was an icy feeling that started from the inside, as though I had drunk cold water too fast.

That fear had come true for me a few years ago, shortly after I had been apprenticed to Master Dorn. It remained for me the clearest memory for many years—the messenger riding up to Mr. Beanie’s shop and informing me that my parents had died in the fire of their house, and that I would be required by the solicitor to sign various papers regarding the remainder of their estate.

While I was about this sad business, I renewed my acquaintance with Richard, who was the only friend from my childhood and who had recently returned from Oxford to seek employment as a tutor. His friendship had guided me through those black moments when I felt that the very world must soon come to an end.

Richard returned from the ship shortly and said that the Captain would like to speak with me before giving his permission.

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know,” he said; this with a clear note of desperation in his voice. “He seems a fair man. His name is King, Captain William King. He is sailing as vice-Admiral of the fleet. We also have on board the illustrious Captain John Ratcliffe, apparently to resume his position as Governor of the colony and take it away from Captain Smith. We are among experienced men, Matthew. It is surely a good thing. Please go and speak with him. He took the money. He only wants to see you himself, I’m sure.”

Richard patted me on the shoulder, and I walked slowly onto the ship and to the Captain’s cabin. The door swung open, throwing the dim light of a lamp in my face.

“Enter,” the Captain said.

He was a man not as big as I am, but from his eyes and manner I could see that he more than made up for his lack of size by force of character. His beard and mustache were light red, and he walked with a hard step, solidly planting his feet wherever they fell. His voice was strong, having battled with the ocean winds for many years. His clothes were wrinkled from having slept in them too often.

“So, you want to go to Virginia?” he said, and continued without giving me a chance to answer. “Your friend says that you are a carpenter?”

He stopped and looked directly at me, demanding the truth.

“Well, sir, I served four years to a master carpenter of Exeter.”

“But you didn’t complete your apprenticeship?”

“No, sir, but I know as much as any master about the skill, and—”

“I’m sure you do, lad—quarreled with your master, did you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No, sir.”

“So you ran away?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Captain laughed mightily and flopped down in his chair.

“God’s wounds! It reminds me of my own youth, when I was apprenticed to a fishmonger of London. What a hard man he was. How I prayed many a time for God or some worthy soul to strike him dead. But, like most hard men, he only grew stronger. The time came when he proposed to beat me, and I hit him beside the face with one of his cold codfish. I liked it so much that I used it like a club and beat him until nothing was left of the cod but bloody strings of meat.”

The Captain laughed until his face glowed as red as his beard. He went into a coughing fit, and when that had subsided, he said, “Those fools in Virginia have need of your skill more than they realize. You may sail with us if you like. One more will not make a difference. But take care and do not go near my mariners. They’re a base lot, and some had as soon stick a dagger in you as not.”

I thanked the Captain for his courtesy and started to leave.

“Since you are here,” he said, “you can tell your friend that he can come aboard, but you and he are not to quarter among the stores. The best place is amidships.”

I thanked the Captain again and hurried off the ship to tell Richard what had taken place. He was very pleased, and we immediately began loading his belongings aboard the ship.

Coarse, cloth bags stuffed with straw had been provided for our bedding. We found a good place on the first deck, in the middle part of the ship, next to the hull where we would be protected from the weather on all sides. At first the place between the decks seemed so small and cramped that I began to feel a shortness of breath, but as I lay on my rude bedding next to Richard, the whole space appeared to open up and become as vast as the sky itself, and before long I was sound asleep.

It seemed only an instant of time before we heard the tramping of feet over our heads and voices calling out. We crawled over to the hatch and up the ladder to the main deck. It was well into the morning, and the sailors were running about the ship, preparing her for departure. The passengers were crowded on the quay, waiting their turn to walk over the wood planks to the ship. Most had a few possessions stuffed into cloth sacks, which they carried over their shoulders or under their arms. Some, like me, had nothing at all. Still others, mostly gentlemen, had large chests which the sailors handled with contempt, crashing them down on the deck with many curses.

They were mostly city people with the marks of their trades on their hands and faces. Most looked very pale and worn. Some were laborers with hard bodies. They stood together, looking suspiciously at everything and everyone. The gentlemen, in their fine clothes, stood off to one side and chatted among themselves.

I looked to the stern of the ship and saw Captain King pacing like a lion on the high poop deck. Now and then he would go to the rail and shout something to his men.

When all were aboard, the Captain gave the order to cast off from the quay, at which time men in two long boats strained at their oars, pulling the great ship slowly away from our last touch with England. The sight of the wharf moving away from me caused a peculiar pain in my breast. For a moment, if Richard had not been standing beside me, I would have jumped from the ship and swam joyfully back to shore. Instead I waited, not moving, listening to the Captain give the orders to get the ship under sail, soothed somewhat by the chants of the sailors as they went about their work.

We glided gently into Plymouth Sound where the Captain brought her up beside a fleet of ships, six of the larger tonnages and two pinnaces. There we dropped anchor, and within an hour, Captain King, along with Captain Ratcliffe and his rowers, had set out in our ship’s long boat to meet Captain Christopher Newport, a well-known privateer and Master of the newly built flagship named the Sea Venture.

The Captain had not been gone but a few minutes when a quarrel broke out among some of the passengers as to where their places would be on the ship. One of them pulled a dagger on the other and made as if to stab him with it. But before he could advance two paces, one of the larger sailors jumped in among them, holding a fid in his right hand, and with it he knocked the dagger from the attacker’s hand. The attacker, then in a rage, started for the sailor who, without the slightest hesitation, struck him on the side of his head and rendered the man senseless for over a quarter of an hour.

This incident put a quick end to the dispute, and most of the passengers went about preparing their places on the ship in silence. By evening the Captain returned, much flushed with wine and, staggering about the deck, ordered the Master’s Mate into his cabin. After a short while, the Master’s Mate emerged from the cabin and ordered the sailor on watch to look for a signal from the Sea Venture for getting underway.

We were served a delicious, hot meal of stew, containing much meat and bread and green plants and herbs. It would be our last hot meal for some time. Beer was served liberally, and we drank until we began to feel bloated and sleepy. Richard and I crawled around and over some of the passengers until we reached our beds, and there, fell onto them and slept like two newborn infants.

I was awakened suddenly by a sharp blow to my shoulder, and further aroused from my drowsiness by the cries of those nearest me. The sound of rushing water could be heard clearly against the hull, and my shoulder was pressed hard against the ship’s heavy oak frame. Some passengers had slid, with their bedding, against the hull. After overcoming the surprise of it, they made their way back to their former places, crawling and sliding over other passengers like sheep bounding away from a charging wolf. To my surprise, Richard was still asleep and did not seem in any danger of rolling against the hull. I saw no need to wake him, so I made my way out of the ship onto the main deck.

It was growing well light, although the sun was still down. The ship was crashing through the water under full sail, and it seemed that all around, the ships sailing with us were bobbing and leaping over the sea as though all had taken wing and were flying at top speed for Virginia. Behind our fleet lay the rocky coast of Devon, and ahead of us, open green sea.

The wind was blustering and blowing from the southwest, and as we bore away down the channel, the heel of the ship eased, and the pitching became less violent. The ship no longer burst through the waves but seemed to join with them, rising gently as the seas rolled in from our stern and we nestled down into the troughs as they rolled ahead of us.

I walked on unsteady legs to the ship’s bulwark and, holding onto the shrouds, watched the shore of England slowly recede. It occurred to me for the first time since I had decided on this adventure that I might never see England again; and though I had certainly suffered more there than necessary, it was still a home where the language and customs were known to me. I had never been abroad before this, not even to France or Holland. Now, through the uncertainty of fate, I found myself truly bound for an unknown land that might as well be one of the spheres of Heaven. I turned away. There was only one direction for me to look now, and that was to the sea.

It was about this time that several passengers came on deck and promptly ran to the bulwark, there to vomit and gasp as though they were dying. They were soon followed by many others until the whole bulwark was lined with people from stem to stern, all heaving and praying to God for relief. This, of course, was an occasion for much fun and joking among the sailors, some of whom added to the passengers’ misery by eating hunks of roasted meat or bread.

Richard also took his turn at the bulwark and I, at moments, began to feel a stirring uneasiness in my bowels. But, after a day or so, the uneasiness passed, as it did for most of the passengers, and we all settled down in our own spaces, such as they could be with 150 souls living as close to one another as if they all shared the same bed.

Yet there was little in the way of abuse toward the women. I suppose those who would commit such a crime knew that they had no chance of being undetected and would be instantly punished by being cast overboard. Almost every day a quarrel broke out among the men passengers, but nothing ever came of it—no blows were struck, only harsh words from men being too long in close quarters.

I seldom ever saw the gentlemen of our company since they occupied the cabin under the Captain’s cabin, and they seldom ventured out into the sun and salty ocean spray.

Richard spent much time with his books, reading Cicero and Pliny the Younger and making a vain attempt to write the texts into English from the Latin. He worked using the top of his chests as a table. I was concerned for his eyesight and advised him to do his work on deck, but he was afraid that he would be in the way of sailing the vessel, so I went to the Captain and asked if Richard could come on deck with his work. The Captain refused my request but said that he would try to procure a place for him in the gentlemen’s cabin where there would be more light.

In a short time, the Captain hailed for me to come to his place of watch next to the binnacle. I did and was told that the gentlemen had no objection so long as Richard pursued his work and did not sleep or eat or remain in their area after he had finished his noble and scholarly endeavors.

I quickly informed Richard of the Captain’s arrangements, but he did not seem overly pleased. I told him that it would not be wise to offend the Captain and the other gentlemen on board.

He looked at me strangely and said that he was quite content to do his studying among “these good people. But since you went to such a great deal of trouble for my sake, I will not offend you or the Captain.”

I preferred spending as much time on deck as I could, even in foul weather. The sight of those other eight ships sailing in company with us like a gaggle of great birds was always a happy one for me. The sea became a pure, sky blue and contained many strange and unexpected things. Once, a large sea turtle, with crusty barnacles and other sea growth on his back, surfaced near our ship. The sailors tried to capture him with a barbed lance, since turtle meat is considered a tasty delicacy among them, but failed. The turtle was too old and wise to be caught this way.

Late one afternoon we espied a group of whales near the bow of the ship. I could hear their blowing nearly a half a league off and see their water-spouts shooting up into the air, higher than any fountain that I had ever seen. The whales stayed with us well into the night, and their blowing and hissing began to worry the superstitious sailors.

I began to suspect the sailors had reason for their fears when one passenger after another died of the yellow fever and more from an unknown sickness. It was rumored that “The London Plague” was among us, but because I had never seen one of its victims, I could not be sure.

At the end of four or five weeks, we reached a place in the sea where masses of sea growth the color of amber floated together in great fields, sometimes as far as the eye could see. Some of the sailors feared that we would become entangled in this sea growth and remain locked in this place forever, but the Captain, being a knowledgeable man, sailed right through it without the slightest inhibition to our vessel and, indeed, the growth proved to be very thin on the surface and easily broken up.

I hauled some of this growth aboard with a fishing line and discovered that it contained many living creatures—crabs and shrimp, small fish and snails, and others which I had no knowledge of. Besides this, there were many fish floating on the surface, shaped like a piper’s bag, only with bodies as clear as a film of soap. The sailors called these Portuguese men-of-war and considered them very poisonous and deadly.

The mariners, seeing that I had an inclination for the sea, let me handle many of the deck lines and instructed me in most of the particulars in their uses. I was on the point of believing that a seafaring life might be a proper calling for me when six or eight days—by the master’s reckoning—from Cape Henry, the sky turned to a pale gray and the sea took on a tossed, oily look and the wind had a strange sigh in it.

By nightfall the wind had begun to moan like a lost soul, and the sea waves crashed against the ship with increasing fury. By daybreak—at least by the hourglass—the clouds were so thick and black that night scarcely became day.

The wind became an ever-present roar. The ship pitched and rolled almost beyond control, and every wave that crashed against her sides sent a hideous tremor through her, powerful enough to shake her timbers loose.

Somehow the ship held together, but the passengers had a hard time of it. Most had tied themselves with ropes to some part of the vessel’s structure, whether it was a nail sticking out of the deck or a huge crossbeam. Some held on with their hands and some clung to others who were themselves tied down. It was impossible to move about the ship without a fast hold onto something solid. If one ever lost his grip, even for a moment, or tried to jump free-handed to the next handhold, he would be instantly thrown tumbling until he collided with a fixed part of the ship. At one time, a passenger near the forward part of our hold lost his grip and rolled into a group of men and women who were hanging on to a center stanchion. The force knocked them loose, and all went tumbling about the deck like feathers dumped from a pillow.

Most everyone became sick, and there was not a corner or any part of the ship that water did not find its way into. Richard covered his book chest with his bedding and lashed himself there, vowing to me in a voice above the din of the storm and screams of the passengers that he would not release himself until the storm had passed or until he drowned. A shout rose from the hold that we were sinking, and screams erupted all about me, both from men and women. People tore at their clothes in desperation. One man’s fear of drowning was so great that he attempted to stab himself but lost his dagger in a severe roll of the ship and watched it tumble into the hold. Knowing that rumor can often be worse than the truth, I made my way over to the hatch and looked down into the hold. Water had filled the bottom of the ship with a black sludge which covered most of our stores. Several sailors were wading in this bilge water with candles in hand, searching with eyes and hands for leaks along the ship’s hull. I climbed up to the main deck and asked if I could be of assistance. The boatswain shouted that I could join with his men at the pumps and soon more men came up to take their turn at the pumps. Even the gentlemen did not hesitate to earn a few blisters on their hands when it came to saving the ship.

For days we did nothing but stand to the pumps, each man taking his turn until exhaustion forced him to retire. Still we could gain no headway against the water in the ship. The Captain, who had remained at his station on the poop deck day and night during the storm, ordered all souls aboard who could stand on their feet—men and women—to work at bailing the ship with buckets. This action, 1 know, saved the ship, for the water started to diminish in the holds, and by the sixth day the storm had abated, the sun returned, and the sea—although still swelling and rolling—had spent its fury.

We had lost sight of our companion ships on the second day of the storm, and all wondered what had become of them. Some said that we were blown into an unknown sea where we were doomed to sail forever, never seeing land again. But the Captain took a sighting of the sun and put us at a degree of latitude only a few leagues north of Chesapeake Bay.

We altered course, very cheerful and happy, and made for Cape Charles with all sails billowing out so that we looked like a great cloud moving over the waves. On the morning watch we sighted land, appearing like a flat, white line on the horizon. We ghosted well off this shore, heading to the south until we reached Cape Charles and entered the calm and beautiful waters of the Chesapeake.

There, at the entrance to the King James River, rode four of the ships from our fleet: Blessing, Falcon, Lion, and Unitie. They hailed us with many good cheers and even fired off some of their ordnance. The Captain brought our ship skillfully up to their rode and dropped anchor. Our ship had hardly taken hold of the ground when two long boats came skimming over the water to our side. Most of the ships’ captains and a rough-faced captain of the land fort had come to inspect our ship’s damage and confer with our captain as to what course of action would be taken.

It was decided to leave the pinnace, with her crew of mariners, at the entrance to the river to await the arrival of Swallow, Virginia and Sea Venture while we, with the remaining ships, would depart for Jamestown on the next flooding tide.

All of the passengers, including me, spent the remainder of the day drying out in the hot sun. We laid all of our bedding and clothes that were wet on every part of the ship exposed to the air. Through a miracle, Richard’s books were spared. Not a single drop of water soiled them. The sailors busied themselves with making what repairs they could to the ship. Since I had nothing but the clothes on my back to be concerned with, I helped them where I could, pulling on lines when told to, and generally lending the weight of my shoulders when it was needed.

As soon as the tide changed in our favor, we weighed anchor, hoisted our topsails, and glided in line with the other ships up the river to Jamestown. We arrived there late in the afternoon, and as we were the last in line, dropped anchor. All the other ships found places at the quay that provided enough deep water for their draft.

CHAPTER 2

Jamestown

I don’t truly know what I had expected to see. No one on our ship had been to this place before except some few of the sailors. There had been much talk about what we would find, and we all began to have a vision of an English city, much like Plymouth, built in the midst of a tropical garden. What we saw was a rude fort made of palisades and surrounded on most sides by a stinking marsh.

The passengers seemed dumbstruck at this sight and most stood in erect silence, looking as though they had been dazed by terrible news. The sailors soon shook us out of our stupor and started helping us embark onto the longboats to row us ashore. We landed on the beach almost at the fort’s gateway and assembled there to wait for our belongings and the remainder of the passengers. When all were safely ashore, we streamed into the fort, lugging whatever we had, and since I had nothing, I helped Richard with his two chests. We assembled in the center of the fort and waited in the heat for almost an hour for the Governor to make his appearance.

It was very hot in the fort and the smell, like rotted flesh, caused some of our company to become sick. A woman standing near Richard fell to the ground, unconscious. The people around her stepped quickly away, forming a cleared circle. There had been talk of plague in the ship and at the fort. Richard, being more enlightened than most of us, rushed to her side and called for water.

“She has only fainted from heat and thirst,” he shouted.

An officer pushed his way through the crowd and knelt beside the woman. Richard held her head up gently while the soldier sprinkled some of the water from his flask over her forehead, and in a few minutes she revived. The soldier offered her the flask of water, and she drank it so hungrily that I thought she might faint again.

Soon everyone began to complain of thirst and hunger. Others also fainted and were removed to a place away from the crowd. After a long while, we were given a biscuit made from the flour of ground pagatowr, the Indian corn, and each was allowed one cup of water from a common water barrel. The passengers found pagatowr bread coarse and uneatable and, at first, Richard and I found the food very nauseous, but I convinced him that we should eat it for our strength.

Richard had arranged a seat from his chest for the girl who had first fainted to sit on, and she sat staring as though she was in a trance. Richard talked with her in a low voice and discovered that her name was Anne Breton and that she was a servant to a gentlewoman, Mrs. Fitzsimmons, who had come to live with her husband in Virginia. Mrs. Fitzsimmons had asked her to report what the present governor had to say, if important. But as for her, she would be busy sorting out her belongings and inspecting suitable lodgings.

The crowd surged inward, and people stirred around us in quick eddy currents as though we were all fish in a pond disturbed by a small stone. A path was cleared near us. Captain John Smith, followed by two men in tattered garments, entered our group and walked past us to a raised platform near the church. He walked briskly, carrying himself like a soldier, and looking straight ahead, he mounted the temporary platform that had been made from a few planks and empty barrels.

He looked slowly over the three hundred or so people assembled around him, stopping occasionally to dwell on a particular face. A deep hush settled over the crowd. Their groans, their sighs were all silenced. Even the dust inside the fort seemed to stop still in the air.

One look at Captain Smith and there was no question of him being an able man. His strong beard and long mustache seemed more to burn like the bush of Moses. His eyes, fed with this same fire, shone as bright as jewels. He spoke, and his voice carried to all corners of the fort.

“Welcome, citizens,” he said. “Let us first get down upon our knees and give thanks to God for bringing you here in safety.”

We knelt down and followed the Captain in a prayer of gratitude. When it was over, we rose to our feet once again and gave our complete attention to Captain Smith.

“My countrymen, most of you have come through the many dangers of sea travel to land here and found a new country. Perhaps you were told that this is a land flowing with milk and honey, that gold lies in every path and roadway, that whatever a man wants he has merely to stretch out his hand and it will be given to him. My countrymen, nothing can be farther from the truth. There is no milk here because there are no cows, and the honey is the food of the savages. There is no gold here or in any parts of the country that I have explored. There is not even a simple pathway or roadway such as you have known in England, and if a man stretches out his hand in this country, a waiting savage will chop it off with his hatchet.

This is what awaits you, my friends, here in Virginia; a journey ten times—nay, a hundred times more hazardous than what you have known upon the sea.”

A low moan arose from the crowd.

“If you are to survive in this country, you will have to work until your hands become as the toughest leather, and until you drop from exhaustion. Do not expect to live in luxury for your toil. It will be enough that you can eat and find shelter for yourselves. That is the true condition of life in Virginia.

“All victuals will be kept in a common storehouse; that includes meats, grains, fruits—all that is eaten. There is a common well where all may get water. Each day after prayers you may draw your rations from the storehouse and at no time before or after. No man will be allowed to live off the labor of another. Every man will do his share of work for the common good, for no man will eat who does not work.”

At this point, a noise was heard in the crowd, a man shouting.