given them much meat. They are pleased.”
“If they are your people,” I said, “they are our people.”
The remark pleased him, and he repeated what he had said before, that it would
be well for us to live with his people until the winter had come and gone.
“It may be,” I said, “if it pleases your people. But we must try to find a place
near the mountains … in a small valley, with water and timber.”
“There are many, and many more over the mountains.”
“What people live over the mountains?”
He shrugged. “All people hunt there, no people live.”
Together we went back to our camp. The fire was burning, the boats tied along
the bank now, and an awning of sailcloth had been raised, under which Abby was
lying.
Sitting down beside her, I told her we would remain where we were until our
child was born, and I told her of the Indians, whom she had not yet seen, and of
the buffalo I had killed.
“It is a good place,” I said, “and we can hunt nearby and gather fruit and nuts
to help our eating. It is such another place as this that we will find.”
“Why not here, Barnabas?” she asked me.
“No. It is lovely, but it is not the blue mountains. I think in those mountains
we will find a place we love, and another place, as well.”
“Another?”
“Someday we may wish to move on, or our children. We must think of our children.
The land we have passed through is too fair a land to lie empty as it is, and
more men will come and settle there.”
Abigail was listening, a smile on her face.
“There are mines to be opened here. I have heard much of metals the Spanish
found. And the furs we can trade with Peter Tallis.”
Holding her hand, I talked long of what we must do, of the planting of grain,
the saving of seed, the planting of fruit trees and vegetables.
Sakim came up to join us. “There are many plants here that I know, plants used
for medicine in other countries.”
Around the campfire, we talked. “It would grow whatever we need. Is it not so,
John?”
John Quill nodded. “It is true.” He looked around him and shook his head. “I
cannot believe it, Captain. So much land, and so few people, when in our country
people long for the land and have none, for it all belongs to the great lords.
Even the wild game is theirs.”
“Aye,” Tom Watkins agreed, “but trust not the red man. Have you seen their eyes
when they see what we have? Each of our boats becomes a treasure ship to them,
worth as much in their eyes as the richest Spanish galleon is to us.”
Tim Glasco spoke then. “We have come far, and we follow wherever you go, but
what is it you plan?”
So I told them, talking quietly, of the valley I sought. A place with good
water, good land, and timber for fuel and for building. Then to build first, as
before, a stockade and shelter, and then to survey for each a square mile of
land.
They stared at me. “A square mile?”
“Aye, and why not? There is land in plenty, and each should have, if we can
arrange it so, some stream frontage, some timber, some meadow. But at first I
think we should remain together, inside the stockade at night.
“During the day we can work our land. Perhaps a piece close by that belongs to
all, and which all work, and then each his own, further out. Within the stockade
we must have stores, a granary, and the blacksmith shop, and a shop where Magill
can weave and make barrels for us.
“There, with luck, we can build a small community, a world of our own. We will
also trap fur, and when we have sufficient we will go down to the sea and trade,
for more ships will come, and colonies will be established.”
Well I know that what I said would require doing, and no easy thing it would be,
and also now that we had come to a stop … or soon would … there would be
more chance of trouble among us. Circumstances had tended to weed out many of
those who might cause problems, but being human, there would be differences of
opinion, for the ideal situation may exist but not ideal people. Wise I might
not be, but I was wise enough to know that I myself would make mistakes. I was
subject to anger, to sorrow … I do not think to discouragement.
If we lived among the Indians we would soon become Indians, and it seemed best
that we keep to ourselves, be friendly, exchange gifts and favors, and with the
buffalo bull we had begun well, for the bringer of meat is welcome at any fire.
Up to now we had been fortunate, but now we faced a winter, perhaps not a hard
winter, for from what Wa-ga-su had said the winters were not bad … except
occasionally. Nonetheless, we would need fuel, food, and shelter, and much hard
work to have them.
All of us would change, and I myself had already changed, for suddenly I had
become a leader of men who depended upon me to lead them well. Now I had to
think carefully, and to plan, I had to be sure the work was evenly shared, and
the food as well. I wished not to interfere with the Indians nor their way of
life, but to learn from them. They knew the plants and animals of this country,
they knew the seasons and how high up the rivers a man could go by boat.
Whatever their thinking they had found a way of life in tune with the country, a
way that seemed good with them.
Abby was not one to lie long upon her bed, and soon she was with Lila, cooking,
sewing, and mending garments for the other men as well as myself. Her time was
soon, and I walked into the forest alone, worried, thinking of her, and knowing
little of such things as births, yet glad of the presence of Lila and Sakim.
Dark flowed the river past our grassy banks, whispering through the reeds and
rustling in eddies near the roots of old trees. Dappled was the water with light
and shadow, and above the water the changing leaves, for frost had come and
brought autumn colors to the forest. Soon the leaves would be gone, and the
trees bare until spring.
The forest aisles were a place for thinking, for all was still, with only the
rustling of small animals and birds. There was little time left to us to find
our winter haven and prepare for the cold and storms, so little time. And yet it
would be best to wait, to wait just a little longer.
My thoughts prowled the forest and saw in the mind’s eye the place we might
find, and one by one I went through the moves to be made, so many at work on a
stockade, so many on shelters, and so many for hunting and gathering. And there
must be changing about to give all a taste of each.
A move well planned is a move half-done, and I tried to think through every
phase. We would go, I decided, a little farther by water.
It was a Catawba who warned us.
He came suddenly, running from the trees beyond the clearing, screaming
“Occaneechee!” And he ran toward us, darting swiftly from side to side. I saw an
arrow strike near him and grabbed my musket at a rush from the trees along the
shore.
Turning, I fired from my hip at a charging Indian and saw the bullet strike him,
yet his step scarcely faltered. Even in that desperate moment I felt awe at the
man’s courage and his strength. He came on, and I dropped my musket and fired a
second time, with a pistol. He staggered then, but came on, and I killed him
with a knife, breast to breast.
There was firing everywhere, and then a sudden charge from the Catawba, taking
the attackers on the flank. Their presence was a total surprise, and the
Occaneechee attackers broke and fled. Turning sideways, I lifted a pistol,
brought it down in line, and shot another as he fled into the trees.
We moved out then in a rough crescent, those of us who could. I recharged my
musket and pistol and sank my knife hilt-deep in the soft, black loam to cleanse
it of blood, and we went after them. There was still a bit of fighting here and
there. I saw an Indian bending a bow at me and fired quickly … too quickly.
My shot barked the tree at his head but he was no squirrel and merely sprang