Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (16 page)

BOOK: Dangerous Dreams: A Novel
2.12Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Elyoner touched Emily’s cheek, gave her an understanding smile. “That says much, Emily Colman.” After a brief silence, she said, “And Master Tayler . . . he too appears quite drawn to you. Do you care for him?” Elyoner immediately shook her head. “Forget I asked that, Em. ’Tis not my business.”

Emily smiled. “No. I don’t mind talking about it, Ellie. You’re my close friend—my close,
older
,
wiser
friend—and I value your opinion on any subject. So to answer your question, yes, I
do
care for him, though, as you know, he’s considerably older than I. He’s amusing and witty but can also be very serious. He’s suffered difficult times, and I think there’s yet much to learn about him. However, I like what I’ve seen so far and want to see more. Do you know him?”

“Only that he comes from a wealthy family and . . . well, I’ve heard some idle rumors, but I pay no attention to such. I prefer to be my own judge.”

“What have you heard?” Emily raised an expectant eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Em, I shouldn’t have said anything. I really don’t believe any of us should go around talking rumors. The colony’s too small, and it will inevitably foster bad feelings we can ill afford.”

“Very well.” The two then sat in silence, watching George, until Emily spoke in a measured tone. “ Elyoner, are you afraid?”

Elyoner looked flatly into Emily’s eyes. “Emily, I’m terrified . . . terrified for myself, for Father, for Ananias, and especially for this little one here inside me.” She patted her belly. “What happened to Master Howe changed everything. Before, we knew we were in the wrong place and that it
might
turn out to be unfriendly, but now we know death may strike at any
moment. That makes a big difference: it means we can never relax and must be ever watchful. That’s
not
how I want to live my life.”

“Nor I.”

“I assume you heard about the Assistants’ meeting this afternoon? I’m told quite a few men besides the Assistants were there and voiced opinions.”

“I was here with George, but I heard the shouting.”

“Well, there were many cries for retaliation against the Savages, and quite a number of men were ready to man the shallops and row to the mainland to attack them that very moment. Father said he, Ananias, and Roger Baylye spoke against such action. Actually, your friend, Master Tayler, to his credit, was another calming voice.”

Emily nodded twice. “Good to hear.”

“As Father points out, retaliation is a rather foolish notion for several reasons. First, the Savages reside on the main; second, we’ve far fewer soldiers than Lane had; and third, the Savages surely watch us day and night, which makes surprise rather difficult. Another problem is that we don’t know for certain where their village is. Father knows where it
was
, a year ago, after they left the island, but that knowledge isn’t worth much now. So about the only opportunity for surprise would be a night attack, where the rowers could see the Savages’ fires and row toward them. But if the village is inland and not visible from the water, that won’t work either.”

“So what are we going to do? We can’t just sit here and wait for the next attack.”

“No, we can’t. So tomorrow, Father’s taking a few Assistants and soldiers, and Manteo, to Manteo’s village, down the Sound, to give them gifts and to parley. He wants to assure them of our friendship and persuade them to show us how they hunt and fish and preserve meat and fish. He also wants them to help us befriend the other nearby tribes. That was a mouthful! I need a breath.”

Emily held a pewter cup of water to George’s lips. “Well, as much as I miss Master Howe and detest the brutality of his murder, I think we must find peace with these people or perish. So your father’s plan seems a good beginning, even though ’tis with a different tribe than killed Master Howe.”

“You sense much for your years, Emily Colman. I—” Elyoner tensed, clutched her stomach. “Huuh . . . huuh . . . huuh!” She took a deep breath.

“Elyoner, are you well?”

She moaned as the air seeped slowly from her lungs. “I . . . I think so.” Her face suddenly paled; sweat beaded her forehead.

Emily quickly stood while tying the top of her smock, then slipped into her shirt and pulled on her skirt. She put her arms around Elyoner to steady her. “You don’t look good. Come, we’re going to find Agnes.”

Elyoner took another deep breath, let it ease out slowly to relax the tautness in her cheeks. “I think this little rascal . . . huuh . . . wants to see the world soon.” She stood with Emily’s help, and the two shuffled toward the door.

John White stood with his Assistants and Manteo at the meeting place on the shore. He had not wanted to risk another debacle instigated and enflamed by eavesdroppers, such as had occurred the previous day when they had met in the village. So they had returned to the earlier, more private meeting place; and as he had instructed, each man held a musket or a stout English longbow at his side, and most carried a sword and dagger at the waist. As before, four soldiers formed a wide semi-circle around the group, while the water provided security to the rear.

White fidgeted with his mustache as he anguished over what information to relay first. Several of them already knew the results of the meeting with Manteo’s people, and he surmised they had already told the others; so he hardened himself for an uproar, decided to proceed in the order things had transpired.

“Gentlemen, as some of you know, we had a most fruitful meeting with Manteo’s people this morning. After they recognized Manteo, they greeted us warmly and provided us a most pleasing feast. We then offered them gifts and set about convincing them that we want nothing but their friendship and help in teaching us their methods of living here. They agreed to help us but asked that we provide them a badge of recognition so we won’t mistake
them for some other, perhaps unfriendly people. I must tell you that their request is well founded, for precisely the situation they fear occurred with Lane, and several of Manteo’s people were wounded. Most recovered, but one remains crippled and unable to walk, which greatly burdens my mind and heart. So I agreed to provide them such means of recognition when they arrive here tomorrow. But more on that in a moment.” The rare absence of protest encouraged him, emboldened him to broach the unpleasant news.

“We also learned that the Savages who reside on the main directly across from the island are the ones who killed George Howe and murdered our two soldiers last year. They further informed us that the thirteen men who survived last year’s attack frantically rowed their boat to some unknown place. So, they may yet be alive and waiting for us to find them.”

Several Assistants commenced an undercurrent of whispers that quickly spread through the assembly.

“These Savages are the very ones Lane attacked here on this island and whose headman he killed, and I must point out that this occurred
before
the murders of our two soldiers and George Howe. I say this so you may understand that the Savages’ actions against us have not been without provocation.”

The whispers diminished to a fragile silence as Thomas Stevens stepped forward. “John, I understand that Lane probably angered these Savages, but that was long ago and certainly no justification for George Howe’s murder.
We’ve
done
nothing
to provoke them. So what action do you propose to deter further attacks against us? Truly, man, we cannot live like this indefinitely: carrying weapons and taking soldiers everywhere we go. ’Tis simply not practical on an extended basis. By and by, a man needs a good, quiet moment of reflection alone in the forest, while he does his business, if you know what I mean.”

A burst of laughter erupted from the group. White grinned.

“I
do
know what you mean, Tom, and I share your view . . . most definitely I share your view. To that purpose, I asked Manteo’s mother, the leader of their people, to contact the other tribes in our vicinity and summon them to a meeting with us here tomorrow when the sun is overhead. We’ll bestow gifts on all who attend, as well as assurances of friendship,
and we shall then ask them for their friendship and assistance in return.” He assumed a somber but determined look. “We shall also use this opportunity to impress them with our progress on the palisades, and our strength. So I want every man to be present in the gathering place and in possession of every weapon he owns: swords, daggers, muskets, longbows, even hammers and axes. If we had more ammunition, I’d also demonstrate our muskets to remind them of our firepower. But with George Howe gone and his son in a stupor, we’re without a foundry to cast ammunition for a time. We might, instead, demonstrate the power of an English longbow and perhaps show them a little swordsmanship. We want them to know that any attack against us will be met with force and cost them dearly.”

“And what,” William Willes asked, “will we do if George Howe’s murderers do not come to your meeting. What do you intend to do to punish them for what they did and deter them from doing it again?”

That was the question White had dreaded all day, hoped no one would ask; for he knew there was but one viable answer, and that answer was the one he most loathed giving—the promise of an action he had sworn never to allow. “If that happens, William”—he took a deep breath—“we shall have no choice but to attack and punish them.”

Most nodded agreement. Roger Baylye and a few others did not, instead looked gravely at one another then back at White, whose eyes blinked with uncertainty as he spoke. “But though I’ve said that, I do not wish it, and indeed, gravely fear the consequences such an action will most assuredly provoke. We are not strong; our existence is fragile and our soldiers untested. And even though I am not a soldier, I can see that such an action could unleash a chain of unintended events that culminates in our annihilation.” He shook his head. “And we must, therefore, exhaust every possibility for peace before we allow that chain of misfortunes to begin.”

Baylye slowly, methodically clapped his hands together. Three others joined him. “John, you speak wisely.” He looked from man to man. “Gentlemen, if we take such an action, we will surely endanger our own existence. I do not know these people we speak of, and I do not know their intentions toward us. But I think we must conceive another course of action
toward them—one that can produce the end we seek without threatening our lives and those of our families.”

After a long silence, Stevens, who had a red, angry face, shouted, “God’s teeth, John, we must teach the Savages a lesson!”

Willes said, “Aye, a strong, ruthless attack would eliminate them as a threat to the colony and send a clear message to any others contemplating trouble. To hell with your meeting, John.”

White’s insides churned. He knew Baylye was right but also knew the wheels of regrettable fortune had begun to turn. “Gentlemen, I implore you to aid me in finding a way to obtain peace without more bloodshed. But I reluctantly concede such a course will be difficult to conceive and more difficult to implement. So, let us pray these Savages join the others here tomorrow and that we convince them to end the bloodshed and conclude a viable, lasting peace with us.”

“But John,” Stevens said, “even if they come and agree with your proposal, how will we punish them for George Howe’s murder, and how will we ensure they keep their word?”

“Thomas, in all candor, after my experiences here with Lane, I’m far more worried about us keeping
our
word than I am about the Savages keeping theirs.”

Emily rubbed her sleeve across her sweaty brow, bent and scooped a ladle of water from the bucket at her feet, gulped it down. She picked up two pieces of firewood and laid them on the fire that burned ten feet in front of her cottage. The fire had combined with the intense heat and humidity of the day to soak her clothes with perspiration, smear sweaty soot all over her face, and make her appreciate how much more pleasant candle-making was on a cool day in England.

A large, black metal pot about two feet in diameter sat on the fire, supported by a circle of rocks, open on one side, that held the pot about ten inches off the ground and left room for new logs to be added when needed. The pot held over twelve inches of melted animal fat, while a barrel of solid
fat, for replenishing the melting pot, sat several feet away. The fat barrel had been brought from England to sustain their candle-making needs until an adequate supply of local fat could be accumulated.

Other books

McLevy by James McLevy
Wraiths of the Broken Land by Zahler, S. Craig
Tussinland by Monson, Mike
Joust by Mercedes Lackey
What We Leave Behind by Weinstein, Rochelle B.
Pride's Harvest by Jon Cleary
Pack Investigator by Crissy Smith