for more goods and remain here. After a year I will sail again to England.”
Rufisco’s smile was ironic. “If you live.”
“Of course. Here or in England, all plans await the decision of the Master.”
The Lord had my trust, yet of others I was not so sure. The Indians were an
uncertainty, and so was Nick Bardle. He was a hard, vengeful man. Would he leave
matters as they stood?
“This Potaka,” Rufisco asked, “you trust him?”
“He seemed friendly, yet we will proceed with caution,” I replied.
Rufisco hoisted our sail, once we had rowed clear of our hide-out, and catching
a good wind we started upstream and made good time.
I kept a sharp lookout along the banks to see what manner of trees there might
be, for one in particular I sought.
Amazing was the variety. There was much willow and alder. I saw beech, tulip,
poplar, several kinds of pine, birch, hemlock, chestnut, and the white limbs of
buckeye. Further along I spotted here and there a sycamore, an ash, an elm. It
was in my mind to make longbows and arrows for silent hunting as well as to
conserve our supply of gunpowder.
Several times we saw smoke, and once we passed a considerable village with huts
that seemed, at the distance, to be made of bark. There was the smoke of a
half-dozen fires there, and numerous canoes drawn up on the banks. Dogs ran down
and barked angrily, but we were some distance off and we saw no Indians until we
had rounded the bend, when at the last moment I looked back and saw several,
whether men or women I could not tell, emerge from their huts.
“Did they see us?” Rufisco wondered.
“It is possible,” I said, “but they came late.”
Even as I spoke I was looking ahead. The shore of the river curved in and the
river narrowed. It was a bad place, bringing us dangerously close to the banks.
Sakim spoke suddenly. “Barnabas! Look!”
He pointed. Several Indians appeared momentarily in the willows, running abreast
of us. Then another, farther ahead, moving toward the narrow passage where we
would be closest in.
Glancing toward the passage, I saw no Indians, just some large dead tees
projecting into the water and making the narrow gap even more dangerous. The
wind was only fairly good. “Get out the oars,” I told Rufisco, “we’re going to
need them.”
I took my fowling piece from the thwart and looked to the priming, then replaced
it. The last thing we wanted was a fight.
I watched the stream, the shore, and held the tiller steady. No Indians
appeared.
Nearer … nearer. Sakim put his hand down to his musket.
No Indians. The sandy shores were empty. There seemed no movement in the trees
and brush beyond. I glanced upstream. If we could just get through the gap …
Suddenly, Rufisco grunted. Turning I saw three Indians emerge from the brush,
running hard. Behind them a fourth … a fifth.
The first one came quickly to a halt, lifted his bow and let fly an arrow. The
distance was right but he had been too eager, and the arrow fell astern.
A second arrow hit my pack, just ahead of me. A third flew over. Rufisco lifted
his musket and fired.
The heavy boom of the musket was like thunder. An Indian cried out and fell. As
Rufisco reloaded, I saw the Indian trying to rise, a great slash across his
thigh. He fell, blood covering his leg, and the others stood still as if frozen,
staring and frightened.
Rufisco put down his musket and took up the oars, dipping them deep to help the
sail. Soon we were out of the Indians’ range. Rufisco’s face was pale, his eyes
large as he stared at me. “Why do they wish to kill us, Barnabas?” he asked.
“We are strangers. We are not of their tribe, and they fear us. And we have
goods … what we have is a great treasure to them. It is the way of the world,
Rufisco.”
“But we come for trade!”
“Aye, and so did some of the ships taken at sea by privateers or pirates. We
will trade with whomever we can, but we will take nothing by capture unless we
are first attacked.”
“They will have no such feelings.”
“I do not know. Perhaps, perhaps not.”
The gig was moving smoothly upstream now. At a fork, we turned right, gliding
between low banks with scattered clumps of trees and some marsh. We saw no
Indians, but twice we saw deer, and several flocks of wild turkeys.
Suddenly I remembered something. The fine gray ash at the edge of our campfire.
Potash …
There was a need for potash in England, and a fine market for it. One need not
think only of furs, and the potash could be obtained by burning driftwood.
A prosaic cargo, certainly, but a needful one.
Suddenly, Sakim cried out, and I looked up from my daydreaming.
We had rounded a bend, and coming toward us, so close there could be no escape,
a dozen canoes … perhaps forty men … and all were armed.
“Stand fast!” I said sharply. “Hold your fire!”
Chapter 10
My first realization, after an immediate stab of fear, was that the Indians wore
no paint. There were stories enough in England about Indians painting for war.
“Put your weapons out of sight,” I said, “below the gunwhales. I think they are
peaceful.”
The canoes slowed their pace, gliding down to us, and then a hand lifted, palm
outward, and I recognized Potaka.
“It is my friend,” I explained.
Rufisco snorted. “No Indian is your friend,” he said. “Keep your gun handy.”
I lifted my hand in a sign of peace, and Potaka glided close. If he saw the guns
he made no sign of it, nor showed it by gesture or expression. “You come to
village?”
“We come,” I said.
“Good!”
He shouted to the others and they turned their canoes with a deft, easy maneuver
and ranged alongside us, before and aft.
Sunlight sparkled on the river as the clouds scattered before a warm south wind.
Beside us, the graceful birchbark canoes glided easily through the water, the
copper arms of the Indians moving in unison.
It was no small journey we had undertaken. Now they led the way, and we kept
pace, certain only that we had small choice. Their attitude was friendly, but
how could we know how genuine it was?
At night we camped ashore, and their hunters brought in meat in plenty. Good
venison it was, such as a man might not have in England without poaching on the
estate of some great lord.
The Indians were of short stature, and only a few of them were muscular except
with the long, lean muscles that indicate the runner. At wrestling I had no
doubt I could best any one of them, perhaps any two.
They talked much among themselves, and laughed a lot.
When we reached their village we found it was extensive, many huts of wattle and
daub construction, surrounding an open field.
All were busy, and they seemed to have a considerable store of grain. Potaka
told me they had three harvests each year and traded with less industrious
tribes nearby. There was much dressing of skins, parching of acorns, and
gathering of herbs from the forest.
Several times Potaka showed me men who had been injured in battle, occasionally
with tribes of Indians, but usually with the “Espanish,” whose northward
movement they had attempted to stop.
They were avid for trade, but we were cautious, telling them they must await the
coming of our ship for extensive trade, that we had but little. We began
cautiously enough, displaying only a few articles. I was surprised, for they
were an industrious folk and wanted needles, knives and axes more than beads and
fripperies.
On the first day we traded but little, and when the feasting began we
contributed from our small store. Potaka made a great speech, which he
translated in part as an account of his warfare on the side of the English
against the Spanish, a speech he had no doubt made before, but which his fellows
cheered lustily.
We talked much of the land about us, and Potaka traced routes on the ground,
using his finger or a twig to trace in the dirt.
One he indicated. “Warriors’ Path,” he said. He pointed at the western horizon,
then drew a wavy line and with gestures indicated that he described a mountain
ridge. At one point he pointed out a low place in the mountains, a wide gap.
“Here Warriors’ Path,” he said.
“And beyond?”
“Much good hunt, but much fight also. Many tribes come there, none stay. Is good
place, but dangerous place!”
“Someday,” I said to Potaka, “I want to travel that road.”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “It is long trail, many dangers.”