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Robert stared at him in astonishment “We’re going ashore? Where are we?”

“I don’t rightly know where we are,” said Toby gruffly. “I’ve never been to Long Island, but ‘less you don’t mind starving, ye best do what I say.”

Elizabeth welcomed this distraction, which interrupted her ceaseless churning. Joan and Lisbet, wild with delight at being on shore, rolled on the shingle like puppies and plunged in and out of the eelgrass before Elizabeth could make them help her gather mussels and clams. At this task she was none too expert herself, and the disgusted Toby had to show her the good mussels from the poisonous and the bubbly spots in the mud which marked a buried quahog. And as the tide came in, the lobsters crawled up on the beach and Lisbet got her toe painfully pinched by one. Over the child’s shrieks, Toby said to Elizabeth, “Fine family for the wilderness
you
are. Lotta dunderheads. N’ there’s Uncle can’t even hit a nesting mallard!”

It was true that Robert’s gun had banged out twice and missed. Elizabeth said with apology, “I know, Toby. But we’ll learn. Don’t be so cross. Shall we make a fire and boil these things?” She indicated the pile of shellfish they had gathered.

He nodded. “Save all those quahog clamshells.”

“Why?” she asked, amazed that he should burden his boat with such truck.

“Because ye can make the purple wampum out o’ them, something to do of a winter evening, and these are specially fine ones.”

“Wampum beads - like the
Indians?”

“Aye, like the Indians and the Dutch, who call it seawant. ‘T passes for money down here, ye’ll find. Now, Aunt, stop blabbing and hasten. Cook up this stuff whilst I fill the water barrel at the creek.”

She opened her mouth to rebuke his speech. Toby was never over-courteous, yet it was unlike him to be quite so rude, unless he had been drinking rum, which she knew to be exhausted. Nor was it like Toby to hurry. Her rebuke was never spoken, for from the corner of her eyes she saw stealthy movement amongst the scrub pines on the shore behind them. A singing swish zoomed by her ear and a turkey-feathered arrow splattered the sand near Joan.

“The devil help us,” said Toby. “I feared it. Get to that rock!”

Elizabeth scooped up the children and obeyed without knowing that she moved. Behind a great upended boulder Toby squeezed next her. “Netop! Friend ! Netop!” he shouted over the rock, while keeping his loaded musket ready but out of sight.

Two grotesque painted faces peered through the pine branches. From one issued a furious harangue, completely unintelligible. Another arrow whizzed out and struck the sheltering rock.

Toby yelled in a mixture of Dutch and German, “We are friends, we mean no harm I”

The Indians shouted back in their own tongue, and one of them glided nearer.

“I’ll have to shoot,” muttered Toby. “Though I can’t hit both.”

Lisbet began to cry, a feeble wail. The nearest Indian jerked his head up, listened and laughed. He emerged on to the strip of beach, a young buck with feathered scalplock, naked except for a breech-clout. He sidled down the sand, seeking a better aim, fitted an arrow and drew his bow, while Elizabeth, Toby, and the little girls crept around the rock to keep it between them and the Indian.

“Toby,” Elizabeth whispered, crouching over her children. “Look
that
way!”

They had now exposed themselves to the other Indian who was also taking aim. It can’t end like this, Elizabeth thought. She wasn’t frightened, she was astonished. Surely death didn’t arrive on a sunny May morning, while one was clamming on a pretty beach. It was incongruous, funny - as a two-headed calf is funny. I wonder where Robert is, she thought, if he’s watching.

Robert was not watching. He was a quarter of a mile away in a salt marsh where he had finally shot a duck. But on the
Dolphin
they were watching, and as the second Indian pulled back his bowstring, a clear angry voice rang out from the boat.
“Michashong anurn dabanda!”

The startled Indian’s hand dropped from the bow. He stared first at his companion who was obviously also startled, then they both located the voice which continued a flow of indignant command.

“ ‘Tis your squaw,”. whispered Toby, exhaling sharply, his musket still poised. “They seem to understand her.”

Telaka stood on the deck, clinging to the mast and to Ben, who had summoned her. Her scars and her empty eyesocket showed clear in the sunlight, her blue cotton dress was stained and torn, her long black hair was matted, her arms were like trembling brown sticks, but she spoke with a power that daunted the hostile Indians. Careless now of the party hiding behind the rock, they moved to the waterline and shouted back at Telaka, who answered, then presently called to Elizabeth, “Missis - fetch me in boat! Fear not!I”

Toby, his musket under his arm, warily set off in the skiff and rowed to the
Dolphin.

When Telaka came ashore, she disdained Elizabeth’s support, and stood proudly alone on the beach. She spoke again to the two Indians, and Elizabeth distinguished the words “Mayn Mianos” and “Siwanoy”. The Indians grunted, and bowed slightly. Telaka turned to her mistress. “They are Corchaugs,” she said. “Hate white man. This their land. They say you steal their wampum. I say you hungry. Only want food. They know my father, Sachem Mianos. Corchaugs have peace with my Siwanoy tribe.”

“Tell ‘em,” cut in Toby, “if they’ll let us take food and water we’ll give ‘em white man’s knives, or a hoe. As they like.”

Telaka interpreted this, turned back to Toby. “They want to see first. Don’t know white man’s things.”

When Toby again returned from the
Dolphin,
Robert walked on to the beach carrying a mallard. He stopped dead at the sight of the Indians.

“It’s all right now, I think,” said Elizabeth quickly. “There
was
danger, but Telaka stopped them. Don’t say anything. Put the gun down.”

The Corchaug braves pointed at the duck, which was certainly very small, pointed at Robert’s fowling piece and shook with laughter. They spoke to Telaka, who translated. “They say white man’s fire-rod go bang, bang, but get nothing. White man stupid”

Robert Rushed, but Elizabeth said, “Well, at least they won’t want our guns.”

Telaka nodded. “They not sure what guns can do. Very simple tribe.”

They did, however, appreciate the knives Toby brought, fine sharp English steel with heavy wooden hilts. The hoes, which they had never seen, they disdained. They squatted down, testing and fondling their knives.

“They say you may eat and get water, but leave quahog shells alone,” said Telaka. “They wait till you go.”

It was an uneasy meal, and would have been inadequate for the remaining journey, except that while the mess of shellfish - clams, mussels and lobsters - was boiling in the iron pot from the
Dolphin,
one of the braves suddenly disappeared. He came back soon with a large wild hen turkey slung over his shoulder. He threw the turkey contemptuously down at Robert’s feet, and removed the arrow from its breast. “He says you can take this,” said Telaka.

The Corchaugs watched each passage of the skiff, until the Feakes were again stowed on board the
Dolphin.
They frowned, murmuring to each other as Toby unfurled the sail and the shallop moved sluggishly away from shore. The wind was still in the west, but Toby dared not stay within bow-shot too long. Telaka advised against it. The Corchaugs were unpredictable. They might decide they wanted more knives, or with renewed hostility might summon the rest of the tribe. There was nothing for it but to get away and hope the wind would change before the boat was driven back east too far.

At least they had the turkey to supplement the scanty remains of beans and salt beef. As Elizabeth started plucking the bird, she said to Telaka, “Rest now, my dear. I need not tell you of our gratitude.”

“Aye - “ said Toby gruffly from the tiller. “ ‘Twas a bad spot ye saved us from. Have some beer.” He offered the squaw a pull from his own tin mug, a sacrifice, since the beer keg was near empty. Telaka accepted, then, licking a finger, held it up to the wind. “Chekefuana blow too much,” she said. “I will tell him to stop, we need Wompanand to take us to Monakewaygo.” She crept unsteadily to the bow, crouched there, and began a low chanting.

“What’s all that mean?” said Toby, staring at the squaw.

“The winds, I think - “ said Elizabeth. “Chekefuana is the god of the west.”

“Pah!” said Toby, spitting scornfully over the gunwale.

Nevertheless, in an hour the wind veered. Dark clouds formed, raindrops spattered on the deck, and by nightfall the
Dolphin
was skimming down the Sound before a moderate nor’easter. By then Telaka had ceased chanting and gone below to lie on her pallet and retch with seasickness.

The next day, although it cleared, the east wind held. Toby kept close to shore as they skimmed past tiny new settlements. Relieved at the prospect of soon getting rid of his unwieldy boatload, Toby amiably named these villages as they glided by. That red mountain near the mouth of the Quinnipiac River sheltered a few houses called Roodberg by the Dutch, New Haven by the English, who were establishing themselves there under a minister named Davenport, and a merchant, Mr. Theophilus Eaton. A few thatched roofs farther west along the coast Toby could not name, but he recognized Norwalk where he had been with Daniel Patrick, because though there were no English houses, there was an Indian village on one of the little islands.

The next morning everyone was up at dawn. “ ‘Twill not be long now,” said Toby to the excited hovering Feakes. He ran his stumpy finger over a tattered chart he had made. “See that spit o’ land ahead?” he said, pointing towards a heavily wooded promontory and glancing down at his chart “That’s called Shippan by the Rippowam Indians, their Sagamore Wascussue lives there, or maybe ‘tis Ponus, a great chief in these parts. Don’t remember. But there was a couple o’ Englishmen from Wethersfieid chaffering for land thereabouts when I came by last month.”

“I hope,” said Robert anxiously, “the savages down here aren’t like those Corchaugs on Long Island. You don’t think there’s been any danger for the Patricks, do you?”

Toby shrugged. “Far as I can see an Indian’s a varmint, an’ I wouldn’t trust any of ‘em.”

“My
tribe is friendly,” said Telaka, suddenly appearing in the hatch, her eye darting disapproval at Toby. “Siwanoys friends with Patrick who is good man. Will be friends with Feakes, but not like bad things said of them.” She glared again at Toby.

Toby did not even listen to this speech, for he was busy trimming his sail and steering his clumsy boat as far south as he could get her, to avoid a cluster of humpbacked rocks which showed above the water. They continued down the middle of the Sound, far out because the tide was low, the shadows of rocks and shoals visible. The coastline showed no distinguishing features to Elizabeth, but she was conscious of her squaw’s tenseness. Telaka gripped the corner of the hatch and muttered to herself in Indian, obviously naming landmarks. Suddenly she straightened and put her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, an astonishing intimacy. “Look!” she cried, pointing far to the right of the bow. “Look, Missis! Monakewaygo - the white sands!”

Telaka’s thrill communicated itself to Elizabeth. They peered ahead towards a long white strip gilded by the rising sun. Never before, except that night at Sandwich before they sailed on the
Lyon,
had Elizabeth seen a real beach, and then the sands had been brown, not of this shining purity. There were canoes drawn up in a tiny cove and several curls of smoke rose above the trees.

 “My people,” said Telaka below her breath. “They camp there now near the sand gods for fishing.”

“I wonder where the Patricks may be lodged,” said Robert eagerly. “Is this where they’d be, Toby? Where’s his hut?”

“Down there a piece - “ said Toby. “D’ye see that wet stony bit ‘tween the neck and the mainlands ‘Tis a deep passage at high water. Patricks’re not far from it on t’other or
cove
side. I’ll wait here to get through wi’ the tide.”

He steered inland and they saw movement on shore. Indians running back and forth, pointing to the
Dolphin,
and gathering near the narrow pebbly isthmus.

As the
Dolphin
dropped anchor a hundred yards from shore, Telaka stood up. She waved to the curious crowd of Indians, making signs with her fingers. For a moment they gaped at her, then an old woman screamed out “Telaka!” and ran to the water’s edge, her arms outstretched. “It is my mother,” said Telaka. “Those sachems behind are my brothers, Amogerone and Keofferam.” For the first time since Elizabeth had known her the squaw seemed conscious of her horrible appearance. She loosened her right braid, pulling the black hair forward so that it covered the scarred half of her face. The Feakes embarked in the skiff. Elizabeth forgot Telaka and the Indians as a big man with red hair came running from the forest to the isthmus.

“By God, it
can’t
be!” he cried as the skiff touched shore. “Damme if I believe me eyes I Rob! Bess! and the children. Damme, but ‘tis good to see ye. I can’t believe it i”

He whanged Robert across the shoulders, pumping his hand, and he engulfed Bess in a great hug. “Ha’ ye come on a jaunt?” he cried. “Are ye junketing about? Holy Mary, I’m glad to see ye!”

“We’ve come to stay, Dan,” said Robert, looking up at his friend with trustful joy. “We’ve come to settle here.”

Patrick instinctively looked towards Elizabeth for confirmation of this astonishing news. She nodded slowly. “ ‘Tis true. We’ve fled from Watertown - from the Bay. We’ll plant ourselves here with you - if you want us.”

Moisture sprang to Patrick’s blue eyes. “If we
want
ye! Anneke’ll be - be - “ He stopped, unable to express what this would mean to Anneke. “She’s the only white woman,” he went on. “ ‘Tis lonesome - no mincing that. A hard life - we’d a’most lost heart. But wi’ you folks here - -” He broke off, blew his nose between his fingers, wiped it on his buckskin sleeve. “Ffaith I’m blubbering like a baby. Now then, up to our hut wi’ ye. I can’t wait to see Anneke’s face!”