tied him to a stake for burning. Using his two feet he had edged a burning brand
around, working with the still unburned end, and tilting it, got it to fall
against the rawhide that held his ankles. His legs free, he had somehow gotten
free his hands, sprang through the flames at the back, and run into the woods.
They had immediately followed, but he eluded them. Then, wounded, sick,
exhausted, he had fallen down near the edge of the swamp, where, smelling blood,
the alligator had come for him.
With the coming of night the great gates to our fort were closed and barred. The
smaller gate which opened on the river side was also barred. Two sentries walked
the walls at night, and a system of signals was arranged with those men who
remained aboard the fluyt, where a watch was also kept.
Nothing in my nature permitted me to trust to fortune, for it was my belief that
good luck came to those who work hard and plan well. So far we had remained free
from trouble with Indians. Hopefully, it would remain so.
Each night a different man was officer of the watch, a duty I divided with
Jublain, Pirnmerton Burke, and Sakim. On this night, Pim was on duty, and he
awakened me at a few minutes past midnight.
“Barnabas? Can you come?”
“What is it?” As ever, I was immediately awake.
“I don’t know. But you’d better come.”
He disappeared soundlessly. I got up and began quickly dressing.
“What is it, Barnabas?” Abigail was awake.
“I don’t know. But I fear it is trouble, for Pim is not easily alarmed.”
Taking up my pistols, buckling on my sword, and then taking a musket, I slipped
out into the night. Behind me I heard Abigail stirring about. I mounted the
ladder to the wall.
A guard loomed beside me. It was a man I knew as a Newfoundlander, a good,
sturdy man, Ned Tanner. “They’re out there, Cap’n,” he whispered, “and it is I
who thinks there’s a-plenty of them.”
“Stand by, then.”
Walking on around the walk below the wall to the other guard, I found Pim Burke.
“Tanner says there’s a lot of them out there. What say you?”
“Aye,” the guard, a swarthy, husky chap from Bristol, spoke softly. “They’ve
something in mind, Captain. They’ve been all about below the walls.”
Listening, I could hear the movements of men, but what they planned I could not
guess. “Pim,” I said, “do you go below and roust out six good men. Let the
others rest, if they’ve the will to. It may be a long day before us.”
Now to take a stockaded position is not an easy thing if the defenders be alert.
With cannon, it was a simple thing, without them almost impossible without
negligence on the part of the defenders. Yet the very fact they had not yet
attacked spoke of some preparation, which implied some knowledge of making war
and strong positions. This implied there might be a white man among them.
The Spanish, who had settlements in the land of Florida, were not happy with
England’s attempts to settle Virginia, and it might be that a small party of
Spanish were directing this effort. Of course, that was pure speculation, I had
no facts.
A glance at the stars told me almost an hour had gone by since I had first been
awakened. The ladder behind me creaked as the men climbed to their positions.
With moving about upon the walkway and listening, much time had passed, yet I
had no idea of what they planned. Below me at least two and perhaps more of them
were moving about, perhaps only seeking to find a way to enter.
I spoke softly. “What is it you want?” And I used the Catawba tongue.
There was abrupt silence.
“We do not sleep,” I continued, “but we wish no trouble. If you would talk, come
to us in the light, and we shall speak. If you come by night, we have no choice
but to believe you enemies.”
Again a silence. Then a voice, “Release the Catawba. He is ours.”
“He is his own. You do not have him. We do not have him.”
“Put him outside, and we will take him and go.”
“He is a good man. He works beside us. We will not put him away. He has come to
our village for protection.”
“Then we shall take him. I, whom am Naguska, say this.”
“You are a Tuscarora?”
“So it is.”
“The Tuscarora are a proud people. They are fine warriors. But I am English. We
do not surrender those who have come to us for aid.”
“So be it.” He seemed not too displeased. “You will die for it. All of you.”
Then, surprisingly, he said in English, “You are a weak people, you English. And
you tell lies about your country beyond the water. You are a small people. You
cannot hunt. You have no fur. You have no big trees. You have only your big
canoes and a hunger for things that belong to others.”
“You speak English?”
“My father was English. He taught me many words before I saw his weakness. He
was no warrior. He was no hunter. He could do nothing … nothing that becomes a
man.”
“In our land only some men are warriors, and there is little game, so few of us
are hunters. We obtain what is needed by barter.”
“Bah! It is a woman’s wayl A warrior takes what he needs!”
“Who was your father?”
“He was nobody. He could only scratch marks upon paper, upon bark, upon whatever
he had. He told me they were charms, so we did not burn them, but they did him
no good.”
“He is dead?”
“Long ago. It is well that he died. I had great shame to have no other father.”
“I thought with you it was the mother’s brother who was important to the boy?”
“Well, it was so. My mother’s brother was a great warrior!”
He seemed willing enough to talk, and while he talked there was no fighting. I
whispered as much to Pim, but advised him to be doubly alert.
“Come to the gate by day, and come alone. I would speak with you, Naguska.”
“By day? By day you shall all be dead. Or prisoners, to die by the torch.”
“You said your father made marks upon paper and bark. Do you have that paper and
the bark? I should like to see it.”
“I have them. I know where they are hidden. My father was a weak man. He could
use no weapon, he could not hunt. He was much laughed at for his weakness. With
him always it was only what he could put upon paper.”
I heard a series of strange sounds. I tried to identify them.
Suddenly, I knew! Ladders! They had ladders!
Along various spots in the wall were small bundles of grass and twigs that could
be quickly lighted. Taking one from its cubbyhole, I struck a light and touched
it off with a spark. As it sprang into flame, I held it over the wall
In the brief flare of light a dozen savage, painted faces glared up at me, then
the ladders started to rise.
An arrow struck near me. Aiming at the nearest man’s chest, I fired.
They came with a rush.
18
“Ladders!” I shouted the word so all would know what to expect.
Ladders. I had never heard of an Indian using such things, yet Naguska was only
half Indian, and he might have learned many things from the father he seemed to
despise.
There was a burst of firing. Somebody dropped another lighted bundle, and then
another. Two Indians were attempting to take a wounded man away, and a ladder
dropped into place near me. I grabbed the top of it and shoved it from the wall.
One man let go and fell off, another one rode the ladder back toward me.
My blade was there to meet his chest as he fell against the wall. For a moment
his face was very near to me, and then I was drawing the blade clear.
Other men were climbing up from below. The whole lot of our men had been brought
up by the firing but, suddenly, there was a lull.
“More bundles!” I shouted. “Don’t let them get away with the ladders!”
Here and there a shot followed. Then all was silence. Around us the velvet of
night lay gently. A faint breeze stirred in from die sea, and there was left a
smell of burned wood, grass, and gunpowder.
Then there was another aroma … fresh coffee! Some of the men had not tasted
it, for the substance was new in England, yet Abigail had long been familiar
with it from her travels on her father’s ship in the Red Sea and the Indian