There was a cove before us, with a half moon of beach, but nearer there was a
smaller opening that seemed to be a creek mouth. As Sakim took in our sail, we
ran up this creek until we saw a great dead tree that had fallen half in the
water, half out. Sculling with an oar we worked close to it and tied up.
A bird sang and the water rustled. Overhead a white gull winged slowly past,
dropping a curious glance our way.
Standing up, I belted on my blade, thrust pistols into my waistband and took up
the fowling piece.
“No noise!” I warned. “Let us be very quiet. We are alone here, and we must know
something of where we are.”
We waded ashore, looking carefully around us. Some of the trees were pine, with
here and there a gnarled and ancient oak, much brush of kind I did not know, and
driftwood everywhere.
Our position seemed good. A small but deep creek flowed down through the
sandhills on the opposite side of the cove which we had seen. There was perhaps
an acre of ground scattered with driftwood and coarse grass that sloped down to
the creek. It was ringed with trees, sheltered from all view.
“No fire,” I said. “Break out some of the biscuit. We will eat that.”
Rufisco went back to the boat to get the biscuit and Sakim went further inland.
Soon he was back. “There is a spring whose water is not bad.” He had some
slender sticks in his hand. “I shall make a bow,” he said, “and arrows.”
After we had eaten lightly, careful of the food we had brought ashore, I left
Sakim at making his bow and went inland, moving quietly, working my way to what
seemed the highest of the sandhills.
When I reached it there was a good view on all sides. Toward the sea and to the
south was a broad sound, protected from the sea by barrier islands of sand.
There was no sign of a sail, yet I could not believe we had gotten away so
easily, nor that aNick Bardle would rest content.
Further along the shore I found where a fire had been built, but the ends of
charred wood that remained were old. There were many shells there where Indians,
or whoever the fire-builders had been, had eaten shellfish.
Many grassy meadows lay back from the shore, a fair land indeed, and promising
well for future farmers, if such there came to be. Nowhere did I see any signs
of recent men—only the remains of fires and a few sticks cut by some crude
implement.
I saw many ducks and geese, and several times brown and somewhat speckled birds
flew up, very large birds, many of them as big as geese. These must be the
turkeys of which Gosnold had told.
After a while, I came down to the bank of the stream on which we had camped, but
far above our camp site. It was enough to tell me that this river offered no
access to the higher country. That must be found elsewhere.
On high ground again I sat down just to look and to study.
We must find a river, sail up the river and inland for a short distance, then
establish a base. Part of our goods we would bury, and carefully conceal the
place of hiding. If attacked or robbed we must not lose all. Then I must
approach some strong chieftain and establish an alliance with him, and choose a
site on the river for a town.
A river-crossing not too far from the sea, a place where Indians were used to
come, yet reachable by ocean vessels. For it was in my mind to establish a
trading post which would grow into a city. Rome had begun at a river crossing,
and London, too.
Now we were in new land, a free land, a land to be shaped as we wished, and I
hoped then that those who came after me would want, as I wanted, a safe land for
people, for homes, for freedom.
All this was good, this open land. I thought of the crowded streets of London,
of the poor I had seen there, and of many of the men with whom I’d worked in the
quarries, each hungry for his own bit of land. Why not here?
Not all the land for a few great lords, but a piece of land for each man, land
to grow crops, to keep bees and a cow.
Suddenly there was movement. Below me, moving in single file, four savages moved
stealthily. Four armed with bows, moving toward the point on which we had
camped!
Four of them, three of us, but we were scattered, and neither Sakim nor Rufisco
knew of their coming.
Four … and they were painted for war. I had heard of that.
My position was a good one, for I stood close to the trunk of a huge oak,
thicker than two of me; and beside me were others, almost as large. There were
fallen timbers about; it was not an easy place to approach.
What to do? I hesitated to shoot a man who had not seen me, yet if I didn’t they
would stalk and kill me if they could.
And if they were allowed to go on they would find my friends and perhaps kill
them, too.
Something brushed leaves behind me, and I turned swiftly. An Indian stood there,
but he lifted his hand, palm out. “No enemy you,” he said, and he pointed at the
four warriors in the trail below “There enemy!”
A half dozen Indians came up through the trees, and scarcely glancing at me,
sifted through the brush and trees along the hillside.
“I am Barnabas,” I said. “I come to trade and to learn.”
“I am Potaka. I speak white man many time. I friend.”
“I have two friends.” I held up two fingers. “There. …” I pointed. “No hurt.”
He was gone, and I waited. For several minutes I waited, heard a piercing yell,
then a running and a movement in the brush.
Suddenly, one of the Indians I had seen in the trail below came running toward
me. There was a long scratch on his arm and he carried a bloody knife. He rushed
through the brush and burst into the clearing where I stood.
For a moment he stopped, as if transfixed, but I stared back at him and made no
move. He looked, grunted something, then was gone. Obviously, I had astonished
him.
Potaka came back, on the run. “He come?”
“That way,” I pointed. “He came, and he fled. Very quick.”
Potaka hesitated, then sheathed his knife. “It is enough. We kill two.”
“You speak very good English.”
He smiled broadly. “Me friend Englishman. No friend Espanish. Sometime Espanish
fight us. Sometime English fight Espanish. One time Englishman, Potaka fight
Espanish together. You like?”
“Your village is near?”
“Far … two sleeps.” He pointed inland. “You come?”
“Later.”
Potaka looked about. “You are only three?”
“Our ship comes back soon,” I said, casually. “We were left to find friendly
Indians who wish to trade. We wish to trade knives, needles, and cloth for
furs.”
“Come to my village. Welcome. No parlay to them. They kill.”
He was a man of medium height, strong, no darker than many a Portuguese, and
quick in his movements. His expression was friendly, and there was much about
him I liked.
“We fight Espanish many time,” he said. “Englishman live among us … long
time.”
“Is he with you now?”
“No more. He live four, five year, then he say he see behind mountains. Maybe
seven moons pass. Maybe dead now.”
From my belt I took a knife. It was keen of blade, and as long as my forearm. I
extended it to him, haft first. “For you, my friend,” I said, and gave it to
him.
He knelt suddenly, tracing with his finger in the dust. He pointed to the river
nearby. Then with his finger he showed the river, a trail leading from it.
“Village here,” he said. “You come.”
He picked up his spear. “You come,” he repeated, and then he was gone.
I waited, listening. There was no sound for a long time, and so I went down
through the trees toward our camp, and after a long walk, arrived there.
Rufisco greeted me. Sakim emerged from the willows. “There was fighting?”
Rufisco asked.
“Among the Indians,” I said, “and I may have made a friend.”
“I do not trust them,” Rufisco muttered. “They are savages.”
“What is a savage?” I asked, shrugging. “It is another way of life. We will be
cautious, my friends, we will be bold and we will be honest. If that does not
work, we will fight—when the time comes.
“There are many of them and only three of us. I think it would be well to