1609, Winter of the Dead: A Novel of the Founding of Jamestown (14 page)

More trees were cleared from the surrounding forest and houses were built outside the fort. The ground was scraped to make additional fall gardens in which to raise pumpkins and winter wheat, though most of the newcomers had no idea of how to work a crop. Nat thought James Towne was beginning to sound and smell like London.

But there was something new and curious which had come on the ship from England this time. There were two women. One was a married lady named Lucy Forrest, a tall and quiet woman who spoke only with permission of her husband, Thomas. The other was a young girl named Ann Burras. She was Mistress Forrest's servant girl, and there was nothing quiet about her at all. In her mistress's presence, she was obedient and humble. But when she was off about her duties around the fort, drawing water and washing clothes and emptying chamber pots, she chattered to herself nonstop, complaining about the filthy conditions of James Towne and the constant stares of the men who lived there.

On one sunny afternoon as Nat was patching the walls of the church, he felt a dig in his ribs. He dropped the bucket of mud and it fell to its side with a clatter.

“Oh, I am sorry!” It was Ann, her hands on her hips, her nose wrinkled. A lock of hair had fallen from beneath the hood of her cape. “I meant to tease, not frighten.”

“I'm not frightened,” said Nat. “But you must learn that here in Virginia there are many things which can startle a man. Often it is a savage with a knife to slit the Englishman's throat or a club of bone to smash in his brains. You are lucky I didn't take you for a savage or I would have thrown you to the ground and stomped your neck.”

Ann's blue eyes grew wide and her lips twitched. “Sir, you speak so cruelly to me!”

“No, I speak honestly.”

Ann's eyebrows drew together in suspicion. But then she smiled. “You are a strong, honest man, I can see that.” Then she tossed her head and strolled off.

Nat made a point of speaking to her every day after that. He watched her as she worked with Mistress Forrest washing clothes and preparing meals over the fire outside their house. He helped her carry water and gave her his last deer hide. In spite of her nasal voice, she was not an ugly girl at all.

“Winters in Virginia are harsh,” he told Ann one evening at the riverside. “Many men starved last year.”

“How dreadful.”

“It is true,” said Nat. “You need only see the graves to know what we endured.”

Ann scowled and looked away across the river.

“But,” Nat continued, “I'm a good hunter. I can always get more. In fact, I am a true survivor here. I have a secret supply of treasure in the forest.”

Ann looked back at Nat, her eyes widening. She glanced around to make sure no one was gazing in her direction, and gave Nat a quick kiss on the cheek.

That evening, as Nat sat on his mattress removing his shoes, John Laydon said, “Miss Burras is pretty, isn't she?”

Nat shrugged. “I haven't noticed,” he said. Had John seen the kiss? Probably not. Most of the men thought Ann pretty. But it made Nat feel self-conscious, regardless.

“Play a role for me,” said John. “You are our town's actor, young Peacock. How would Ann act if a man were to ask her to marry him?”

“Do you want a farce or a drama?” asked Nat.

“I'll leave that up to you.”

Samuel said, “So you think you can act as a woman?”

William Love, bending over a torn linen shirt, said, “Let's see comedy!”

Nat pursed his lips and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. His eyebrows peaked as he said, “Oh, sir, you ask me for my hand? I am so flattered, but, sir, you are an old man, old enough to be my father! So I must decline, but I thank you warmly for your offer.”

Samuel rolled his eyes. William Love laughed. But John Laydon didn't seem amused.

Over the next few days, Ann made a point of waving to Nat and speaking to him. She stopped her complaining when she was near him, and she seemed to make of point of smoothing her skirts and tucking her hair carefully when she saw him coming in her direction.

After worship service in the church on a pleasant afternoon, Ann pulled Nat aside and said, “Show me the treasure you have in the forest.”

Nat felt his cheeks go red. He hadn't meant to tell anyone about the place where Laughing Boy, now that autumn had set in, had begun once more to leave food and symbols of peace between the two of them every ten days. Some days Laughing Boy would be there with the gift and he and Nat would go exploring or hunting. Other times the Powhatan only left the gift. But what if Ann saw Laughing Boy in the forest and was terrified? What if she thought food was not truly treasure? Could Nat trust her?

But she smiled and took his arm, and Nat knew it would be all right.

Ann had to wait until early the next morning, when her mistress thought she was washing clothes in the river. She and Nat crept through the tall stalks of unharvested corn and entered the forest.

Immediately Ann seemed uncomfortable. “It's too hard to walk. My shoes are not for such rough ground.”

“Watch your step,” said Nat. “You'll get used to it.”

Ann said, “Humph,” and held the hem of her skirt to keep it off the briars. She kept close to Nat, grabbing his shoulder when her balance teetered and grumbling. “Why would you have treasure so far out here? What good is it if you can't grab it up when you want to look at it?”

Nat said nothing.

“Is it gold? Silver? Pearls, perhaps!” said Ann.

Nat felt his teeth grind together. Pearls? This was a mistake. She had never been hungry, even if she was a mere servant girl.

“Nathaniel, where is the treasure? What is it?”

Nat stopped and said, “There is the treasure, Ann.” On the ground, wrapped in large sycamore leaves, was a gift of several small squash, three ears of corn, and some beautiful red-gold feathers. “I have lived in Virginia for more than a year. I've learned that there are other treasures besides gold. Food is more precious. Someday I'll find gold, but for now, I give thanks for food. And there, beneath that pile of stones, are five blue glass beads. Worthless to either of us in England, but like money here, I have them hidden in case I find need to give one to the natives. They find them exquisite.”

Ann tilted her head and chuckled for a second. Nat thought she would think about it for a moment and then realize what he was saying was true. But her face drew in and she frowned. “Surely you are teasing me,” she said. “Now, where is the real treasure?”

Nat put an ear of corn in Ann's hand. “Here. Look at it. It is gold-colored, is it not? And it is smooth like gold. I am given gifts of food regularly, and I hide them in my sack in my cottage until the worst of times. In my sack now are many ears of corn. This way I do not have to depend on the other men of James Towne.”

“I thought you were a rich man.”

“In a way I am.”

“Where does this food come from?”

“A Powhatan boy.”

“Powhatan? You mean a savage?”

“Yes,” said Nat. “But he is truly not savage.”

Ann gave the corn back but said nothing.

Three days later, John Laydon caught Nat by the arm as he was tossing grain to the pigs. “I have a deal for you, comedian. You give me the sack of victuals you have been hiding in our cottage and the glass beads you have buried in the woods, and I won't tell John Smith that you stole from him and have been illegally keeping food to yourself. That will be your death, boy, and you know I tell the truth.”

Nat gave John the sack, and the man put it in his trunk. He took John into the forest and dug up the beads. Four weeks later, John and Ann Burras were married in the church with the blessing of Mistress Forrest and Reverend Hunt and under the jealous eye of a couple hundred lonely men.

24

December 30, 1608

John Smith has done it again! Samuel Collier was taken on an expedition to the native village of Waraskoyack, and did not return with the men. I heard from Edward Pising that John Smith left Samuel with Powhatan, “assuring the king perpetual love,” in order to keep the peace and for Samuel to learn the language. Someday, Pising says, Samuel may come back to us with this knowledge, and, as with Thomas Savage, we will all benefit. I did not know Thomas Savage, but I knew Richard. I knew Samuel. And for all the page's irritable spirits, I would not have wished this upon him.

Nicholas Skot has told me he is afraid he will be next to be taken away, and asked me what he should do. I told him I do not know. Just as we are unable to tell when we offend the Powhatans and bring attack upon ourselves or when we please them and bring about assistance, I am unable to know the heart and mind of John Smith when it comes to matters such as the trading of boys.

I do not hate Smith as the councilors do, but I do not revere him the way the commoners do. His turn has come to be president of the James Towne council and he is a harsher ruler than the others, which is to our benefit. He makes everyone work. Those not hunting or collecting food are set to building and repairing our homes and the fort walls or splitting logs and putting them on ships to sail for England in a few days.

But regardless, I cannot stomach the man as I once did.

Smith visits the natives and trades for food when the storehouse supplies grow slim. I think he enjoys the adventure a bit too much, leaving most of us behind to labor. I wonder if he misses the beads I took. I wonder if, on his trips, he has seen Richard. I have asked him, but he ignored me, as if such a matter is past and should remain past. Pocahontas, the young Powhatan girl, still comes on occasion with baskets of food. We are not starving as we did the last winter, and though I avoid Smith, I do give him credit for his steadfast control. He even makes everyone, from carpenter to sailor to tailor to gentleman, drill with muskets daily so we might be better ready if we are attacked again. Captains Archer and Wingfield obey, but they secretly rebel by continuing to steal from the storehouse when no one is around. I doubt I am the only one who has seen them sneaking out with food under their cloaks, but no one yet seems up to challenging them. They must remember the man who was executed for treason our first summer. Accusing our leaders would be nearly as bad as speaking against the king.

William Love seems pleased to have chores other than hunting and fishing. With many new men now, he is busy with tailoring, mending clothes and stitching new trousers from the small stock of fabric which arrived from London. He is not much with a musket. He can't even hit a tree stump. But he does have talent with a needle.

John Laydon and his wife have a cottage to themselves now. I am certain Ann is enjoying the little extra food which was my very reluctant wedding gift. I believe I even saw the blue beads around her neck, hiding just beneath her collar. John and Ann watch me like hawks, seeing if I try to go again into the woods alone. I've not been back since October. A handful of extra food is not worth the hangman's noose. I hope John is happy with Mistress Laydon. He can have her. I wish him luck with such a spiteful girl.

My shoes have holes in them. They won't last another year.

25

June 3–27, 1609

N
AT HAD THOUGHT
that, once off the
Susan Constant,
his duty of rat-catcher was over. But it wasn't.

The first of the garden's yields came in early June, and the storehouses were filled with potatoes, peas, and radishes. Other crops had been planted now, the corn, squash, beans, and cabbages, which, if all went well, would be ready to harvest in August. It was hot, but there were still occasional cool mornings and evenings, making it seem as though spring had forgotten its time was done. Sometimes, in the early days of June, the men would find themselves feeling more merry than usual, and a gentleman would pull out the flute he'd carried over on the ship and play a happy, dancing tune.

Nat even found his own feet tapping to the music as he sat at the edge of the gatherings. Yes, he knew there was gold still to be found. Perhaps it didn't sit on the top of the soil as he'd thought, perhaps it wasn't glittering in the fields or sparkling in the streams, but it was there, certainly. Underground, maybe. In a cave, at the bottom of a pond or lake. But it was there. And Nat knew that once James Towne had grown strong and no longer had to fight daily for a piece of bread, then there would be time for him to go exploring once more. This time he'd take a shovel.

But then, on a morning in the middle of the month, as the men gathered at the door to the storehouse for their rations of vegetables and last year's corn, there was a shout of dismay.

“Rats!”

“Damn the vermin! They've helped themselves to our store!”

“How dreadful!” said Ann Laydon.

Nat stood on tiptoe to peer over the shoulder of the tall man in front of him. He could see inside the shadowy store, and indeed the place was alive with the creatures. How could they have gotten in and multiplied so quickly in just a week? There had been a few times when the storehouse had borne vermin, but only in small numbers and found before much damage could be done. But this time it seemed as if a sea of rats were swimming in the stock, crawling over and under barrels and crates and in and out of cracks they had gnawed into the wood.

“Back up,” demanded John Smith. The men backed up. Smith motioned for Nicholas Skot, who came up reluctantly. His hair hadn't seen a comb in many weeks, and looked like a greasy tangle of seaweed.

“Boy,” said Smith. “You and Peacock are assigned to rid this place of the rats. I want every one gone by dusk.”

And so Nat and Nicholas were on rat duty. With clubs in hand, they crept through the crates and barrels of food, smacking rats and tossing them out the door. Nicholas said, “Why do we not just shoot the damnable things?” but Nat reminded him what would happen if a matchlock musket caused a spark in the storehouse. A rat infestation would seem like nothing compared to a roaring blaze.