aboard (for there was much loot in the hold), the story was told.
Their voyage had been smooth, easy. They had crossed the Atlantic in sixty-five
days, making their first landfall far to the north, and seeing no other sails
until close in to the coast of Raleigh’s land when they saw topm’sts over the
horizon that soon disappeared.
Knowing that if I did join them it might be many weeks, they had looked about
for a location for a trading post, aware that such was my intent. They found
several, one of them on a creek just a little farther along the river from where
we were now anchored.
It was a few square miles of solid earth among the swamps that lay all about,
with thick forests of cypress, bays, and myrtles, laden with Spanish moss and
tropical vines. It was a place with a good breeze down the river, easy of access
by boat or canoe.
They had run some lines off to a couple of huge old cypresses, and going ashore,
had begun felling logs and clearing land.
They had been so occupied when Nick Bardle and his men appeared. They had left
the Jolly Jack anchored out of sight in a small bay, and had slipped through
winding waterways to the river above the ship, crossing the river at night and
concealing themselves under overhanging cypresses. Just before daylight they
pushed off and drifted down upon the silent ship.
Unknown to Bardle, Jublain and seven others had slept ashore to be prepared for
an early start, trimming logs for the fort they were to build. When the attack
began they had already gone into the woods to select trees for felling.
With only an instant’s warning, Tempany cut his lines and attempted to get away
downstream, hoisting canvas, and trying to deflect his guns to bring them to
bear on the boats. Yet this Bardle had expected, and suddenly the Jolly Jack
appeared in the rivermouth, cutting off any retreat. A broadside toppled the
mainm’st and holed the ship in three places. With water rushing in, no chance of
escape, with her father badly wounded, Abigail had herself ordered the ship run
aground.
Her father died within those last minutes, and as the ship struck, what was left
of the crew jumped to the mudflat and headed for the surrounding jungle.
Sakim, one of the last aboard, touched off two guns aimed at the Jolly Jack,
then helped Abigail to escape from the ship. Fleeing into the woods, they joined
forces with Jublain and his hastily gathered men, but there was nothing to be
done. Their ship was in flames, Tempany was dead, and escape into the swamp was
their only chance.
The vast and dismal swamp covered over two thousand square miles, a dense forest
of black gum, cypress, and juniper, tangled with Virginia creeper, honeysuckle,
and reeds. Much of it was deep, dark water, threatening and still. Sunlight
filtered through the boughs overhead, and only here and there was there solid
ground.
A ship’s boat had been taken into the swamp for use on some of the winding
waterways in hauling logs to the building site. Into this they climbed, slowly
gathering up a few stragglers, then escaping into the depths of the swamp.
The only food they had was a little brought ashore for the men working on the
fort.
Yet there were many deer, occasional bears, and many kinds of birds. Using much
ingenuity they had somehow managed to exist.
Bardle, after putting out the fires, had looted the ship, then set fire to what
was left and finished the burning. He had hunted for them, but a few well-placed
shots from the swamp itself had dissuaded him. After a while, he had sailed
away.
“You have not seen him since?”
“No,” Abigail said, “and we kept a good watch because we were expecting you. We
did not know how you would come, or when, but we all believed in you.”
“He will come back then,” I said, “and we must prepare for that.”
Long we talked that night, over the table and after, and I told her of my escape
from England, and the part Lila played, but adding little about the difficulties
on the island or my dealings with pirates. Yet as I spoke there came a little
hint of warning: I had another enemy now in Duval … and Hanberry, too, when it
came to that.
“For me,” I said at last, “there can be no question of returning. All that is
behind me, and from this moment we must build a new life in this land.”
With sadness, I looked at her. “Abigail, I thought of none of this when you
agreed to come with me. I had no idea I would forever cut off from all we know
of home, so I want to say now you are free to go. The fluyt is here. We’ve a
good crew. Tilly is a most able sailing-master and he can return you to
England.”
She filled my glass with ale. “You talk foolishness. I am no child to want only
the glitter and the glory. There are enough women in England for that, and for
all else, and good people they be, but I made my commitment to you long ago. If
you stay, I stay … and I want to stay.
“Bad as it was out there in the swamp, I came to love it, although I, too, long
for your blue mountains.”
“But you must realize that I must avoid contact with other Englishmen. The order
for my arrest will remain in force, and any ship that comes might bring those
who would take me back. From now on we are not only exiles from England, but
from Englishmen.”
“So be it, then. I am content.”
The night was filled with small rain. We had dropped down the river a bit and
anchored out of the current in the sound. Because of the darkness and the rain I
kept two men on watch, wary of what might befall.
Long I lay awake, considering what must be done. With Abigail to consider, I had
also to think of ways to divert her, to keep her content with our life, and I
thought of several. The first and most obvious I did not think of at all. Lila
did.
At daybreak I was in the cabin, charts spread out upon the great table, studying
the courses of the rivers. The place Tempany had chosen I liked full well, but
it was a place known to Bardle, a place where we might soon expect trouble,
hence it was in my thoughts to move.
Once again we set sail and returned to the northern sound.
We were seeking out a river of which I had some small acquaintance on my
previous voyage when Lila came to me with John Tilly.
“Here he is,” she said.
“I see … and a good man, too.”
“Of course he is a good man. He is a man of God.”
“Aren’t we all?” I said gently.
“I mean,” she said severely, “that John Tilly is a minister of God.”
Startled, I looked at him again. “Is this true, Tilly? I had no idea.”
“You had no reason to suspect it. You found me upon a ship of pirates. I was a
prisoner there until they discovered I was a capable seaman.”
“Well, we can always use a man of God. Nice to have you aboard, Tilly.”
“Captain Sackett,” Lila said severely, “you do not seem to understand. John
Tilly is a minister of God. As such he is empowered to perform marriages.”
I do not think I am unusually dense, yet the thought that sprang immediately to
mind was the wrong one. “Lila! You don’t mean to tell me! You’ve found a man?”
She flushed. “That is not what I mean. I am thinking of you and Miss Tempany.”
Well! For a moment I just stood there looking stupid, and then I said, “Of
course … of course, Lila. I was thinking of other things, I—”
“You had better go ask her,” she said gently, then.
“The Reverend and I will discuss what is to be done.”
I looked around at the grinning sailors. Jeremy, who was chuckling, Jublain with
his mocking smile, and Pim Burke. “Don’t look so damned superior!” I said
irritably. “That’s why she came out here. It is just what we’ve planned.”
“She’s down in the waist,” Pim said, grinning like a pleased ape. “Tell her
about it.”
Abruptly, I turned my back upon the lot of them and went down the ladder to
where she stood alone near the rigging, watching the riverbanks not so far off.
She looked up as I drew near. “You know he loved you very much,” she said.
“Who?”
“Father. He spoke to me of it many times.”
“He was a good man, a strong, kindly man.”