He leaped, fell to his knees, then rolled over.
Tom and Pim had come closer also, and instantly, both fired. Pim’s was a clean
miss as his target, startled by my shot, made an abrupt move, paused, then began
to walk away.
They came up to me and we waited, hoping the deer might stop not far off, but
they continued to move on into the brush, and we let them go.
“The neck shot is best,” I commented, “if chance allows. If shot through the
heart or lungs they will often run a mile or more before dropping.”
Tom was the most skillful butcher among us, so he began skinning the animals
out, while Pim and I followed in the way they had gone. A deer will rarely
travel more than a mile from his home grounds if it can be avoided, so we hoped
they had but circled around. Whatever they had done, we saw them not again.
With our meat and the skins we returned to our camp, killing three turkeys on
the way.
So there was meat that night, but scarcely enough, and I knew we must go far
afield, must kill and dry the meat and prepare for the winter to come. Supplying
my small force was to be no small problem.
The days went swiftly by, working, hunting, clearing and planting land. During
this time I kept several men aboard the fluyt, now rechristened the Abigail,
cleaning her up, making minor repairs, and adding to her armament two guns
recovered from the burned vessel.
The stockade was completed and four swivel-guns were mounted on the walls. Two
more of the recovered guns from the burned-out wreck were hauled to the hilltop
where the stockade had been built and mounted to cover the river itself.
We saw no Indians, yet from time to time their tracks were seen, and twice we
saw canoes passing swiftly along the river in the dark.
“I do not trust them,” Jublain protested irritably. “These, if I mistake them
not, are Chowanokes.”
“I know nothing of them,” I said.
“Nor I,” he admitted, “but I served with a soldier who came with Lane, and he
spoke of them with no favor. They were allied to Wingina, who was a chief to the
south and a great enemy to all whites.
“If the Roanoke colony vanished, he would be the likely culprit.”
“And not the Spanish?”
“Aye, mayhap the Spanish, too.”
It was a lovely land, alive with flowers and richness of soil, but except when
cutting logs we avoided the swamp. There were alligators there as well as
snakes, and a dismal place it was. Yet it was the easiest way for us to procure
the timbers we needed, for a tree felled there could be towed by a boat easier
than it could be moved upon land. Nor had we any wish to make our position more
obvious by cutting trees. Taken from the swamp they left no gaping holes, nor
any sign of activity likely to be seen.
If the Indians left us alone we were content that it be so, although it was
trade with them I most desired, I preferred that we make our own position secure
first, for in dealing with a people of so vastly different a culture and
background we must ever be wary, for their understanding is not ours, nor is it
based on the same considerations.
Now I was indeed thankful for the long talks with Captain Tempany, with Coveney
Hasling, and with others, for each had served to broaden my viewpoint and the
depth of my understanding.
There was much to learn of people, much to learn of the art of government, which
had suddenly become my responsibility. I had already learned to listen to the
advice of others but to act only on my own beliefs, and to make my own
decisions.
The days went swiftly by, but soon there was on my table a growing map of the
area in which we lived. Along with it I began to note down what I knew of
Indians and what signs we had seen of them.
What of Potaka? On my earlier voyage we had met, and instantly had become
friends. He was an Eno, of a tribe from somewhere inland, I knew not exactly
where. It had been a year, perhaps somewhat more, since I had seen him. The Eno
were good hunters, but careful farmers and shrewd traders, and if any might have
a surplus for trade it would be the Eno … from the little I knew of the
Indians about here.
Our catch of fish was excellent, so I put more men to that service, and soon we
had racks of fish drying in the sun and had to maintain a guard to keep off the
birds. We killed many pigeons, of a kind that roosted in great numbers in the
trees and could be taken easily.
Inside our stockade but backed up against the outer wall were our cabins. One
for Abigail, Lila, and me, another for an armory, one for the storage of meat,
another for grain, a third for our trade goods, and the largest yet a barracks
for the men, although we maintained a crew of seven men aboard the Abigail.
We ate at a common table for I wished no stories to circulate that better food
was served us than was prepared for all.
When would winter come? It worried me that I did not know, and could only guess,
which made for bad planning. Despite the poor success of our hunting, for we
found little game, the fishing went well, and our crops came readily up,
promising a late but good harvest.
At the table, I explained the situation. “There are Indians up the river whom I
know, they are called the Eno. There are other Indians a little way off called
the Tuscarora, and I do not know them but other Indians fear them and they are
spoken of as fighters.
“There are Indians near us called the Chowanoke or Chowanoc, but they are a
small tribe. It may be that we can arrange an alliance that will offer
protection for both.
“Avoid Indian women. It may be some of you will wish to have Indian wives, but
first you must learn the Indian way, and to approach the father first and agree
upon the present you will give him.
“We are very few here, and must walk with care, always respectful of these
people.”
“They are savages,” Emmden muttered, “only savages!”
“But people, just as you and I, and they have customs as good for them as ours
for us. Treat them as equals.”
Emmden looked his disgust, but spoke no word against my order. Yet his manner
worried me. He had been a sailor aboard the Flemish ship and I liked not his
manner, and I spoke of him to Tilly and Jublain.
“Aye,” Jublain agreed, “yon’s a surly dog, and he’s found others of his kind.
They talk continually of going a-pirating and I doubt not they’d try if they
could find men enough.”
Despite the fact that our fort was on a low hill it was shielded from view by
the tall trees that made up the forest around the hill. That hill was stripped
of brush and trees that might offer concealment and prepared a good field of
fire for our weapons.
Meanwhile, those of us who knew how to use the bow resumed its use in our
hunting. In the fens we had grown up as archers, each of us skilled in hunting
with bow and arrow, so among us we numbered ten skilled archers and some who
were good enough. Our hunting, to save powder and lead, was now done with bows
and arrows.
The English longbow was a formidable weapon and despite the coming of firearms
we in the fens and others in rural parts of England kept our skill in its use,
competing in shooting at fairs and sometimes at markets. In the fens, where
hunting was less restricted, many a fenman kept meat on his table with the bow.
In the evenings we made arrows, improved our bows, and sharpened axes and saws
against the work to be done. They were quiet, busy times but we were in better
condition to survive than had those who came before us, for all were accustomed
to work, and aware of the need for it.
Nevertheless, we cut mast timbers and piled them above the ground to season, and
some of the men were riving shingles, working with a hoe and a maul to split
them off the larger chunks or logs. It was in my mind that sooner or later a
ship would come, and then we might sell our timber or trade to good effect.
Yet we had our own quarters to furnish as well, so we made stools, benches, and