1609, Winter of the Dead: A Novel of the Founding of Jamestown (4 page)

“All right, Nat,” said the mysterious man. “Pull.”

The rope went rigid and lifted Nat up off the barrel a few inches. But then he slammed back down again.

Nat said, “I lost my grip. I am too heavy!”

“Shhh, do not make a business of this,” said the man. “The gentlemen are still asleep and I would like to keep it that way. Let me get you out quickly. Hold tight.”

The rope inched up. Nat tried to will himself to weigh less by loosening his body's joints. The rope went up another four inches. Then it wavered, but didn't slip. It was pulled jerkily yet consistently upward, and in just a few moments, Nat was able to throw one foot up through the hatch, then another, and then he was pulled to the safety of the 'tween deck floor.

“How is your arm?” asked the man.

“It will be better soon,” answered Nat. He pulled himself out of the rope and then squinted at the man who had helped him. It was Jehu Robinson, a thin, very quiet man whose pallet was near the ladder.

“Thank you,” Nat said uncomfortably.

Jehu looked over at the mattresses, occupied by dozing gentlemen, then back at Nat. “I am ashamed these men would not help you,” he said. “We could all hear you. They are not all asleep, but hiding with their eyes closed. I suspect they are afraid to dirty their hands or bring out a callus on those smooth, unblemished palms.”

Nat said nothing. He didn't know what role to play with this unusual man.

“God forgive us our selfishness,” said Jehu. “Now, let us get back to our places before the gentlemen decide our yammering is so bothersome that we should both be dumped down into that hold!”

4

March 20, 1607

O
VER THE DAYS
that followed, there was nothing to see in the ocean but waves, an occasional fish leaping into the air, the fins of sharks slicing the water, and the other ships, sails stretched full, following behind.
Virginia,
thought Nat.
Where are you?
But the minutes on the upper deck were the best entertainment to be had, and Nat relished them. They took their time dumping urine and rodents into the water so they could savor the fresh air. At least Nat's arm was not broken and only ached on occasion.

One cloudy afternoon, as Nat and Richard stared out at the sparkling waves, tossing rats, an argument brewed behind them.

Nat recognized Gabriel Archer's voice immediately. He didn't think it would be wise to acknowledge the disagreement, so he looked ahead at the water, while tuning his ears in sharply. He held his finger to his lips so Richard would follow suit.

“Sir, I have often told you that Captain Smith is a troublemaker. His haughty attitude with the gentlemen has made him so loathsome I scarce can tolerate it. Must we endure him for such time until we are settled in Virginia?”

“We shall.” This was the voice of Captain Newport. “I've not seen reason to do anything other than that, Archer. He is a man of much knowledge of the sea. As prone as he is to try to tell others what to do, we need him.”

“Indeed!” said Archer. “I've as much knowledge as Smith and my experience is as valuable or more so. Yet I don't scheme to overthrow us all when we've arrived in Virginia.”

“I've not heard that kind of talk from Smith, either,” said Newport. “Is your imagination heightened by our time at sea?”

“Not my imagination, sir, but my understanding of the conniving mind and the untrustworthy soul.”

“I'll listen to this no more,” said Newport. “I've work to do.” There were footsteps across the deck to Newport's cabin at the stern of the ship.

Archer took a deep breath and blew it out noisily. He grumbled to himself. Then there was a whisper.

Nat glanced over his shoulder quickly. Kendall was there now, standing next to Archer. Both men's capes billowed like dark sails in the sea wind. The two were talking softly, and Nat couldn't hear what was being said. He looked back at the water and dropped a few more mice into the brine.

Then Archer said loudly, “There is the king himself!”

Curiosity took charge of Nat's feet and turned him around. At the center of the deck stood Kendall, Archer, and now Smith. Smith's chin was tipped upward and his hands were clenched at his sides. Surely, Nat thought, these men wouldn't resort to a brawl. That was something street urchins did, not captains.

Smith glanced at Richard and Nat. With a sharp jerk of his head, he said, “You two. Below, the both of you.”

Nat hesitated, and Smith shouted, “I said go now!”

Richard and Nat carried their buckets to the bow-side hatch. Richard scrambled down the ladder and dropped onto the floor. Nat followed, but halfway down, he stopped and climbed back up and peeked his head through the hatch.

Archer had his hand now on the hilt of his sword. Kendall's hand was on the dagger at his waist. Smith, feet planted apart with the rocking of the ship, still maintained clenched fists, but did not touch either of his weapons.

“Hail to our misguided lord!” said Archer. “The man who would crown himself king if chance presented itself.”

“King Smith,” said Kendall. “What a distasteful sound that is, and what a distasteful smell comes from his direction!”

“Sirs,” said Smith. “I've never said I would be king. Do not lower yourselves by speaking in such a manner.”

“Hah!” Archer's laugh was deep and without any humor. “You, sir, are the lowest. No one could lie upon this deck and be as low as you. The rats in the hold look down upon you, and the lice stay clear.”

Smith's hand went to his sword. “Recant, sir.”

“I will not take back the truth. I am not a liar.”

“Recant your words or you will regret the moment they left your lips.”

“I am not a liar!”

For a moment there was silence, except for the rush of the water and the call of sailors at the masts. Nat's hands trembled on the top ladder rung. The captains' hair and capes lifted and fell in the current of air, waving to each other in childlike taunts. The men stared hard and cold.

And then Smith drew his sword in a flash, and jumped toward Archer with the point to the man's throat. Kendall brayed and skipped away. Archer's eyes went wide as moons.

“Recant,” hissed Smith. “Or your words will be your death!”

Archer sputtered, clearly frightened. Then he managed, “No, sir. I'm afraid your actions here have only proven me correct.”

“Nat!” called Richard from below. “Get down here!”

Nat waved frantically to keep Richard still.

Smith stepped up closer to Archer, keeping the point of the sword at the man's neck. There was a bead of blood where the blade touched. Smith's teeth were bared, his nostrils flaring. “Deny your words, Archer!”

But there was a shouting from the door to the Great Cabin. Newport stood, hat in his hands, his mouth open in fury. Slamming his hat onto his head, he hurried down the ladder and shoved Smith and Archer apart. “What is this? On my good ship I have one captain ready to take the life of another?”

Smith sheathed his sword and said, “I have cause, sir. If you'd only seen the behavior of these two, of Archer and Kendall, you'd know why I acted as I did.”

But Archer threw his arms apart in a gesture of surprise. “I have no idea of which he speaks! The man charged me, unprovoked, and made to slit my throat!”

Kendall pushed from the side of the ship and stood by Archer. “It's true, my lord. Smith is rabid in his actions! The man would have murdered Archer had you not come upon us when you did. He must be taken into custody.”

“Yes,” said Archer. “Confine the man, that we might hang him when we reach the next island!”

But Smith stood straight and looked Newport directly in the eye. “Captain Newport, it was not without provocation that I pulled my sword. These two men have played their petty game of jealousy since we set sail from London.”

Newport said, “Give me your weapons, Smith.”

“Sir, these men called me names so foul that no man could tolerate such abuse!”

“We are innocent of such absurd charges,” said Archer. “Foul names? His mind plays tricks on him. You saw his actions. We have no option but to put the man in chains.”

Newport shook his head in resignation. “Smith, give me your weapons. I will have a court of inquiry tomorrow, but for now, you must be secured in your cabin.”

Smith stared angrily between Archer and Kendall, but then reluctantly handed his dagger and sword to Newport.

“He should be put into the galley, Captain Newport,” said Archer. “What punishment is it that he be allowed to stay in his own cabin, where I myself must sleep?”

“Sleep elsewhere, then, until court is held,” said Newport. “But until he is found guilty, he will not go into the galley.”

Newport then gestured to the door to Smith's cabin. Kendall and Archer glanced at each other. Then Archer said, “Will you not at least bind the man? He is a danger, sir, you saw it with your very eyes!”

“Not until the court!” said Newport. “Now I will speak no more of this until morning.”

Nat watched as Newport put Smith into his cabin. Then the captain called to a sailor and spoke with him quietly. The sailor stood, arms crossed, outside Smith's door. Clearly the cabin was to be guarded until court was held.

Someone tugged on Nat's shoe, and he looked down. It was Edward Brookes. The man was holding a waste bucket. “Make yourself useful, boy,” he said. “There are three more buckets ready to be emptied. Now, be quick!”

That night, when Nat lay down to sleep, his mind wouldn't let go of what he'd seen. He pulled out his paper, flattened the rumples from the surface, and uncapped the ink. He wrote,

If Archer and Kendall knew I saw the truth. If they realized that I saw the provocation Smith was subjected to, they would throw me into the sea like a pan of vomit.

He rolled onto his side and tucked his hand beneath his head and shivered. Then he wrote,

What will happen in the court of inquiry tomorrow? If Smith is found innocent, all will be well, except that Archer and Kendall will continue to make their trouble. But if Smith is found guilty, he will be confined in the hold, down with the vermin and the stench of the bilge. And when we reach land, he will surely be hanged.

When Nat went to sleep at last, he dreamed of a rope about his neck and men laughing at him. He was being hoisted up to mizzenmast to the great blue sky, unable to breathe.

He clutched at his throat and screamed as the rope grew tighter and tighter.

Nat's legs kicked out as his vision shattered; he found himself in the blackness of the 'tween deck, lying on a thin, straw-stuffed mattress.

He sat up. His hands went instantly to his neck, and he was relieved to find the dream noose gone. He wondered if he had called out in his sleep, but no one around seemed disturbed, not even the irritable Samuel Collier.

Nat lay back down and linked his fingers beneath his head. Maybe he hadn't yelled, but he was surprised that the dreadfully loud hammering of his heart hadn't startled any of the gentlemen out of their mysterious, mindless sleeps.

5

March 21, 1607

T
HE COURT OF
inquiry was held out on the upper deck, and only gentlemen were allowed to attend. Nat paced the 'tween deck, rolling his pebbles in his palms, wondering if he should go up the ladder and tell what he had seen. They certainly couldn't hang Smith if they knew the truth of the incident. Surely Newport was a man concerned with truth and fairness.

But in spite of the taunting dream, he knew it was best to say nothing. To play the idiot.

Richard was curious about what was going on up the ladder, but he didn't let on. He was weaving a small mat with some loose straw he'd found, bending over it and pretending to be intensely content to be at this task.

Samuel sat on his pallet, driven to distraction by Nat's pacing.

“Sit down, urchin,” he commanded. “With so much back and forth you'll tip the ship over and we'll all drown.”

“Tell the lapdog to be silent, Nat,” said Richard, looking up from his weaving.

“I will not be silent,” said Samuel. “I am free and I may speak as I wish.”

Nat took a breath and blew it out through his teeth.

Then there were men's voices and footsteps on the ladder. Nat's hands found each other and made a single, tight fist.

It was a pair of sailors, who squinted about and then gazed at Nat.

“You, boy!” called one sailor. “You are the one!”

“Me?” asked Nat. His heart pounded in anticipation.

“You are called for to speak at the inquiry!” said the sailor.

Dear God!
Nat thought.
Someone knows I was watching! Who could it have been? What am I to say? What is to happen?

“What're ya waiting for, get up here now!”

Nat glanced at Richard and Samuel, who were both watching with the same stunned expression. Then he followed the sailors up the ladder and to the Great Cabin at the stern of the ship.

He'd never been inside this room and had never expected to be. Whatever cleaning or vermin extermination was done for Captain Newport was handled by one of the sailors. It was not a large space compared to the width and breadth of the 'tween deck, but it had a feeling of light and grandeur. There were two oak cots against either side, with a desk covered in rolled charts, instruments, pens, and inkwells, a cabinet for clothing, a shelf for books, and several lanterns hanging on brass hooks. Small square windows revealed the sea to either side, and they allowed in plenty of sunlight, enough for men to see during this daytime hour without lighting the lanterns.

But it was crowded this morning. Men stood in tight clusters, all facing the side of the room where Captain Smith stood in his shackles. Newport was at the desk, hands folded, clearly exasperated yet keeping his emotions in check. Archer was up, pacing as best he could in the cramped quarters. This inquiry had been going on for over an hour now.