I didn’t like the situation. I must speak with Armand. I paused, scowling, and studied the movement of the water. The deeper channel was there, I was sure, and the tide might have taken the vessel deeper into the channel, beaching it somewhere on a bank or shore if it had not sunk.
Nearby was a mound, low and long. Kicking a boot toe into it, I exposed a thick mass of seashells. Obviously, savages had long lived here, taking their living from the sea. We ourselves might profit from their experience, for the great number of sea birds could only be attracted by great numbers of fish.
From the sand I picked a broken arrowhead, beautifully made by chipping away flakes of stone. It reminded me again that I must have a bow.
After glancing all about, I sat down on the shell mound. Nearby, there was an old log that had sloughed off some great sheets of bark. They might be too brittle for my purpose. It would be better to peel fresh bark from a standing tree, but I would take this, just in case.
I walked over and picked up the bark, and came upon several other arrowheads. These were intact, and I pocketed them for future use. As I straightened up with a sheet of bark in my hands, I saw her.
Rather, I saw a bit of the poop beyond a wall of leaves. Squatting on my heels, I looked again. Only from that position could I see the vessel.
It was time I returned to the boat, where they would be expecting me to be, and then to the camping area, where I might find food.
All was still at the boat. Placing my bark on the ground, I looked about, measuring the trees for a better selection of bark. Nearby was another and more recently fallen tree that looked better than what I had, but the bark I’d brought back would prove a convenient excuse for my absence if one was needed.
I found a small canvas-wrapped bundle of tools in the sail locker and went to work. Trimming off the end of the plank, with a hatchet I cut a strip of bark of the size needed. I made holes and with an awl stitched the bark into place with cords drawn through the holes. As I worked, I considered my situation.
Don Manuel disliked me, that was obvious enough. Don Diego had been polite, but no more. The third man, whose name was still unknown to me, was in no position to do more than register an opinion. I trusted none of them.
As for Guadalupe Romana, she was but a pawn in the game, and I had seen how quickly she showed submission when Don Manuel spoke. Was she genuinely obedient? Was even her fear genuine? Or was it part of a pretense she was carrying on?
With the job half-done I walked back to the fire. They were moving about, and Conchita was at the fire. She threw a quick glance my way and seemed friendly. I walked to the fire and extended my bands. “I shall soon have the boat fixed.” I spoke only for her ears. “Let Armand know.”
“Si.” She was squatting, Indian-fashion, at the fireside. “Cuidado!”
Be careful. Aye, I would that.
Don Manuel looked at us suspiciously, although he could have heard neither of us. He came to the fire.
“The boat is repaired?” His tone was brusque.
“Soon,” I said. “It will be makeshift, but it will serve if we are not pushed against rocks, and if we keep to quiet waters.”
He ignored me, paying no attention to my comments. Suddenly he asked, “You have experience of boats, Captain?”
“As a lad I fished in waters off our coast. They were often rough waters.”
“You could take us to Florida?”
“With God’s help. First it would be wise to see if there are people on the Savannah River. We might even find a ship there. There was a French fort, but I believe your people captured it.”
“Don Diego!” He had joined us. “I suggest what food we have be rationed. It must last us at least a week, perhaps two.”
He smiled at my ignorance. “You jest, Captain. We have food for a day, perhaps two.”
“But your packs! I have seen large packs—”
“Clothing, Captain. You would not expect us to dress like beggars? When we again appear before civilized people, they must understand who and what we are. We could not appear in poor costume, or clothes soiled by travel. It would be most unbecoming.”
For a moment I was speechless. “Don Diego,” I spoke carefully, “you must face reality. It cannot be much less than four hundred miles to Saint Augustine, although I do not know its exact location. Even the Savannah is far, and I am afraid you will be very hungry before you arrive … if you arrive.”
“You jest, Captain. I do not think it—”
“I do not jest, and the sooner you understand the situation the better. To the north of us there is nothing, although there are rumors that the English have tried a settlement there.
“To the south of us … somewhere … are Spanish settlements. Between here and there are savages who have often been badly treated by the Spanish and who will not be friendly. This is an unknown coast with many shoals, few bays or coves. Trouble is everywhere.
“We can catch fish from the sea. We may even kill a deer, but only at the risk of attracting enemies.
“There is no one to help you, no one to save you, no miracle we can expect. You have no servant you can command to bring food, and nowhere to bring it from if there were. The clothing you so carefully brought with you is not even likely to clothe your bodies at burial, for the savages will take it.”
Don Diego’s face was stiff with shock, I suspect not so much at the facts I laid before him as my manner of speaking. In many ways these people were children, for always before there had been a servant or a slave to do their bidding, and no need for them to lift a hand. It was simply a fact: they disdained any sort of physical labor, and disdained those who did it.
Don Diego was not accustomed to having facts so cruelly thrust upon him. His dignity was offended.
He stood speechless. His lips worked with unframed words. Guadalupe seemed wryly amused.
“What had you planned to do?” I asked, at last.
“Planned? There could be no plan. The ship was sinking. We seized what we could and got into the boat. We did not think of food. Why, we …”
They simply had not thought, or believed it necessary.
“What happened to the others? To the sailing master? To the rest of the crew?”
“I do not know. There was another boat, I believe. I do not know what happened to it.”
“Well, my friends, you will now have decisions to make, work to do, and much hard travel. Whether you live or die will depend on you.”
“I think not, Captain,” Guadalupe said, sweetly. “It will depend on you. After all, Captain, we have had someone to think for us and care for us because we have been able to pay. If we ask you to do this for us, what will we have to pay you?”
For a moment our eyes met. Slowly, I smiled. Her eyes widened and became wary. Perhaps she feared what I might say, but I merely bowed. “I will do what can be done, and all I ask is passage to Europe. If, that is, you want my assistance.”
“We can kill deer!” Don Manuel was contemptuous. “We are skilled at hunting.”
“At killing, you mean? I doubt not that most of your hunting was done on game preserves where beaters drive the game close to you to be killed. It will be different here.
“Here you must stalk your deer, get very close, and be sure of your shot. Then you must butcher the deer, clean it, and remove the cuts of meat you will need. You must also skin the deer, as the hide will be useful for making moccasins.”
“Moccasins! We have our boots!”
“How long will they last when you wade streams, struggle through swamps and bushes? And what of the women? Their slippers are suitable for ballrooms, but not for walking in the forest.”
Don Diego brushed aside my objections. “We have the boat, Captain, which you are so kindly repairing.”
“The boat?” I shrugged. “Much can happen in four hundred miles. This will not be like floating upon a lake. There will be times when we must get into the water and drag the boat through shallows or over sand. We do not know what lies before us.”